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THE judicious Cafaubon, in his proem to this fatire, tells us, that Ariftophanes the grammarian being afked, what poem of Archilochus's Iambics he preferred before the reft; answered, the longest. His answer may justly be applied to this fifth fatire; which, being of a greater length than any of the reft, is alfo, by far, the most inftructive: for this reafon I have selected it from all the others, and inscribed it to my learned master, Doctor Busby; to whom I am not only obliged myself for the best part of my own education, and that of my two fons ; but have also received from him the first and trueft tafte of Perfius. May he be pleased to find in this tranflation, the gratitude, or at least some small acknowledgment of his unworthy fcholar, at the

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distance of twenty-four years, from the time when I departed from under his tuition.

This fatire confists of two distinct parts: the first contains the praises of the ftoick philofopher Cornutus, mafter and tutor to our Perfius. It alfo declares the love and piety of Perfius, to his well-deferving mafter; and the mutual friendship which continued betwixt them, after Perfius was now grown a man. As alfo his exhortation to young noblemen, that they would enter themselves into his inftitution. From whence he makes an artful transition into the fecond part of his fubject: wherein he first complains of the floth of scholars, and afterwards perfuades them to the pursuit of their true liberty: Here our author excellently treats that paradox of the Stoicks, which affirms, that only the wife or virtuous man is free; and that all vicious men are naturally flaves. And, in the illuftration of this dogma, he takes up the remaining part of this inimitable fatire.



Infcribed to the Reverend Dr. BUSBY.

The Speakers PERSIUS and CORNUTU S.


F ancient ufe to poets it belongs,


To with themfelves an hundred mouths and
tongues :

Whether to the well lung'd tragedian's rage
They recommend the labours of the ftage,
Or fing the Parthian, when transfix'd he lies,
Wrenching the Roman javelin from his thighs.


And why would'st thou these mighty morfels chufe,

Of words unchew'd, and fit to choak the Muse ?
Let fuftian poets, with their stuff, be gone,

And fuck the mists that hang o'er Helicon;
When Progne or Thyeftes' feast they write;
And, for the mouthing actor, verse indite.
Thou neither, like a bellows, fwell'ft thy face,
As if thou wert to blow the burning mafs

Of melting ore; nor canft thou ftrain thy throat,
Or murmur in an undistinguish'd note,

Like rolling thunder till it breaks the cloud,
And rattling nonsense is discharg’d aloud.
Soft elocution does thy style renown,

And the fweet accents of the peaceful gown :


Gentle or fharp, according to thy choice,
To laugh at follies, or to lafh at vice.

Hence draw thy theme, and to the stage permit
Raw-head and bloody-bones, and hands and feet,
Ragoufts for Tereus or Thyestes drest;

'Tis task enough for thee t' expose a Roman feast.

'Tis not, indeed, my talent to engage
In lofty trifles, or to fwell my page
With wind and noife; but freely to impart,
As to a friend, the fecrets of my heart;
And, in familiar speech, to let thee know
How much I love thee, and how much I owe.
Knock on my heart: for thou hast skill to find
If it found folid, or be fill'd with wind;

And, through the veil of words, thou view'ft the
naked mind.

For this a hundred voices I defire,

To tell thee what a hundred tongues would tire;
Yet never could be worthily exprest,

How deeply thou art seated in my breaft.
When first my childish robe refign'd the charge,
And left me, unconfin'd, to live at large;
When now my golden bulla (hung on high
To houshold Gods) declar'd me past a boy;
And my white shield proclaim'd my liberty
When with my wild companions, I could roll
From street to street, and fin without control;
Just at that age, when manhood fet me free,
I then depos'd myself, and left the reins to thee.




On thy wife bofom I repos'd my head,
And by my better Socrates was bred.
Then thy ftreight rule fet virtue in my fight,
The crooked line reforming by the right.
My reason took the bent of thy command,
Was form'd and polish'd by thy skilful hand :
Long fummer-days thy precepts I rehearse;
And winter-nights were fhort in our converse :
One was our labour, one was our repose,
One frugal fupper did our studies close.

Sure on our birth fome friendly planet fhone;
And, as our fouls, our horofcope was one:
Whether the mounting Twins did heaven adorn,
Or with the rifing Balance we were born;
Both have the fame impreffions from above;
And both have Saturn's rage, repell'd by Jove.
What star I know not, but fome ftar I find,
Has given thee an ascendant o'er my mind.

Nature is ever various in her frame:
Each has a different will; and few the fame :
The greedy merchants, led by lucre, run
To the parch'd Indies, and the rifing fun;
From thence hot pepper and rich drugs they bear,
Bartering, for fpices, their Italian ware;
The lazy glutton fafe at home will keep,
Indulge his floth, and batten with his fleep:
One bribes for high preferments in the state;
A fecond shakes the box, and fits up late:


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