Where, destitute of help, forlorn, and bare, He wearies the Deaf Gods with Fruitless Pray'r. Their Images, the Relicks of the Wrack, Torn from the Naked Poop, are tided back, By the Wild Waves, and rudely thrown ashore, Lye impotent: Nor can themselves restore. The Vessel sticks, and shows her open'd side, 70 And on her shatter'd Mast the Mews in Triumph ride. From thy new hope, and from thy growing store, Now lend Assistance, and relieve the Poor. Come; do a Noble Act of Charity; A Pittance of thy Land will set him free. Let him not bear the Badges of a Wrack Norbeg with a blue Table on his back. Nor tell me that thy frowning Heir will say, 'Tis mine that Wealth thou squander'st thus away: What is't to thee, if he neglect thy Urn, 80 The 'goodly Empress, Jollily inclin'd, Their Arms in Trophies hang, on the 109 Now, for so many Glorious Actions done In Foreign parts, and mighty Battels won; For Peace at Home, and for the publick Wealth, I mean to Crown a Bowl to Casar's Health: I Disinherit thee, if thou dar'st take Offence. 120 And yet methinks I hear thee grumbling still, You give as if you were the Persian King; Your Land does no such large Revenues bring. Well; on my Terms thou wilt not be my If thou car'st little, less shall be my care: Him will I chuse: What him, of humble Obscure, a Foundling, and a Son of Earth? Obscure! Why prithee what am I? I know My Father, Grandsire, and great Grandsire Yet why shou'd'st thou, old covetous Wretch, aspire To be my Heir, who might'st have been my Sire? In Nature's Race, shou'd'st thou demand of me My 12Torch, when I in course run after thee? Think I approach thee like the God of Gain, With Wings on Head, and Heels, as Poets feign: Thy mod'rate Fortune from my Gift receive; Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave. Some I have mortgag'd, to supply my want: Nor tell me, in a dying Father's tone, Be careful still of the main chance, my Son; Put out the Principal, in trusty hands: Live of the Use; and never dip thy Lands: But yet what's left for me? What's left, my Friend! 161 Ask that again, and all the rest I spend. Upon my Sallads, Boy: Shall I be fed With sodden Nettles, and a sing'd Sow's head? 'Tis Holyday; provide me better Cheer; 'Tis Holyday, and shall be round the Year. Shall I my Household Gods, and Genius, cheat, To make him rich, who grudges me my Meat, 170 That he may loll at ease; and pamper'd high, When I am laid, may feed on Giblet Pye? And when his throbbing Lust extends the Vein, Have wherewithall his Whores to entertain? Shall I in homespun Cloath be clad, that he His Paunch in triumph may before him see? Go Miser, go; for Lucre sell thy Soul; Truck Wares for Wares, and trudge from Pole to Pole : That Men may say, when thou art dead and gone, See what a vast Estate he left his Son! 180 How large a Family of Brawny Knaves, Well fed, and fat as 13 Capadocian Slaves ! Increase thy Wealth, and double all thy Store ; 'Tis done : Now double that, and swell the score; To ev'ry thousand add ten thousand more. Then say, "Chrysippus, thou who wou'dst confine Thy Heap, where I shall put an end to mine. The End of the Sixth Satyr. NOTES TO THE 1 AND seek in Sabine Air, &c. All the Studious, and particularly the Poets, about the end of August, began to set themselves on Work; Refraining from Writing during the Heats of the Summer. They wrote by Night, and sate up the greatest part of it. For which Reason the Product of their Studies was call'd their Elucubrations, or Nightly Labours. They who had Country Seats retir'd to them, while they Studied: As Persius did to his, which was near the Port of the Moon in Etruria; and Bassus to his, which was in the Country of the Sabines, nearer Rome. 2 Now Sporting on thy Lyre, &c. This proves Casius Bassus to have been a Lyrick Poet: 'Tis said of him, that by an Eruption of the Flameing Mountain Vesuvius, near which the greatest part of his Fortune lay, he was Burnt himself together with all his Writings. 3 Who, in a Drunken Dream, &c. I call it a Drunken Dream of Ennius; not that my Author SIXTH SATYR. in this place gives me any encouragement for the Epithete; but because Horace, and all who mention Ennius, say he was an Excessive Drinker of Wine. In a Dream, or Vision, call you it which you please, he thought it was reveal'd to him, that the Soul of Pithagoras was Transmigrated into him: As Pithagoras before him believ'd that himself had been Euphorbus in the Wars of Troy. Commentators differ in placing the order of this Soul, and who had it first. I have here given it to the Peacock, because it looks more according Ito the Order of Nature that it shou'd lodge in a Creature of an Inferiour Species, and so by Gradation rise to the informing of a Man. And Persius favours me, by saying that Ennius was the Fifth from the Pithagorean Peacock. My Friend is Shipwreck'd on, &c. Perhaps this is only a fine Transition of the Poet to introduce the business of the Satyr, and not that any such Accident had happen'd to one of the Friends of Persius. But, however, this is the most Poetical Description of any in our Author: And since he and Lucan were so great Friends, I know not but Lucan might help him in two or three of these Verses, which seem to be written in his stile; certain it is that besides this Description of Shipwreck, and two Lines more, which are at the End of the Second Satyr, our Poet has written nothing Elegantly. I will therefore Transcribe both the passages, to justifie my Opinion. The following are the last Verses saving one of the Second Satyr. Compositum jus, fasque animi; sanctosque recessus Mentis, & incoctum generoso pectus honesto: The others are those in this present Satyr, which are subjoyn'd. -- trabe ruptâ, Bruttia Saxa Prendi. Amicu inops Remque omnem, surdaque vota Condidit lonio: Jacet ipse in Littore; & und Ingentes de puppe Dei: Jamque obvia Mergis Costa vatis lacera. 5 From thy new hope, &c. The Latin is, Nunc & de Cespite vivo, frange aliquid. Casaubon only opposes the Cespes vivus, which word for word is the living Turf, to the Harvest or Annual Income; I suppose the Poet rather means, sell a piece of Land already Sown, and give the Money of it to my Friend who has lost all by Shipwreck; That is, do not stay till thou hast Reap'd, but help him immediately, as his Wants require. Not Beg with a Blue Table, &c. Holiday Translates it a Green Table: The sence is the same, for the Table was painted of the Sea Colour; which the Shipwrecked Person carried on his back, expressing his Losses thereby, to excite the Charity of the Spectators. Or without Spices, &c. The Bodies of the Rich, before they were burnt, were Imbalm'd with Spices, or rather Spices were put into the Urn, with the Relicks of the Ashes. Our Author here Names Cinnamon and Cassia, which Cassia was sophisticated with Cherry Gum: And probably enough by the Jews, who Adulterate all things which they sell. But whether the Ancients were acquainted with the Spices of the Molucca Islands, Ceylon, and other parts of the Indies; or whether their Pepper and Cinnamon &c. were the same with ours, is another Question. As for Nutmegs and Mace, 'tis plain that the Latin Names of them are Modern. 8 Cæsar salutes, &c. The Casar here mention'd is Caius Caligula, who affected to Triumph over the Germans, whom he never Conquer'd, as he did over the Britains; and accordingly sent Letters, wrapt about with Laurels, to the Senate, and the Empress Casonia, whom I here call Queen, though I know that name was not us'd amongst the Romans; but the word Empress wou'd not stand in that Verse: For which reason I Adjourn'd it to another. The Dust which was to be swept away from the Altars, was either the Ashes which were left there, after the last Sacrifice for Victory, or might perhaps mean the Dust or Ashes which were left on the Altars since some former Defeat of the Romans by the Germans: After which overthrow, the Altars had been neglected. Casonia, Wife to Caius Caligula, who afterwards, in the Reign of Claudius, was propos'd, but ineffectually, to be Marry'd to him, after he had Executed Messalina for Adultery. 10 The Captive Germans, &c. He means only such as were to pass for Germans in the Triumph; Large-Body'd Men, as they are still, whom the Empress Cloath'd new, with Course Garments, for the greater Ostentation of the Victory. 11 Know, I have vow'd Two Hundred Gladia tors. A hundred pair of Gladiators were beyond the Purse of a private Man to give; therefore this is only a threatning to his Heir, that he cou'd do what he pleas'd with his Estate. 12 should'st thou demand of me my Torch, &c. Why should'st thou, who art an Old Fellow, hope to outlive me, and be my Heir, who am much Younger. He who was first in the Course, or Race, delivered the Torch, which he carried, to him who was Second. 13 Well Fed, and Fat as Cappadocian Slaves. Who were Famous for their Lustiness, and being, as we call it, in good likeing. They were set on a Stall when they were expos'd to Sale, to show the good Habit of their Body, and made to play Tricks before the Buyers, to show their Activity and Strength. Then say, Chrysippus, &c. Chrysippus, the Stoick, invented a kind of Argument, consisting of more than three Propositions, which is called Sorites, or a heap. But as Chrysippus cou'd never bring his propositions to a certain stint, so neither can a Covetous Man bring his Craving Desires to any certain Measure of Riches, beyond which he cou'd not wish for any more. The others are not likely to mislead. Many of his proper names are eccentric. Greek and Roman names may sometimes owe their forms to misprints, but even Ben Jonson regularly appears as Johnson. INDEX OF FIRST LINES A King is sought to guide the growing State A quire of bright Beauties in Spring did appear A Virgin Poet was serv'd up to day Acis, the Lovely Youth, whose loss I mourn All humane things are subject to decay As when a Tree's cut down, the secret root As, when some Great and Gracious Monarch dies As, when some Treasurer lays down the Stick Auspicious Poet, wert thou not my Friend Behold yon Mountains hoary height Blind Love, to this hour By a dismal Cypress lying Calm was the Even, and clear was the Sky Can Life be a Blessing Celia, that I once was blest . 374 Celimena, of my heart Chloe found Amyntas lying Chronos, Chronos, mend thy Pace Creator Spirit, by whose aid 379 374 201 202 369 125 396 404 |