So the Theban-But to shine
Less conspicuous be mine!
I prefer the golden mean
Pomp and penury between.
For alarm and peril wait
Ever on the loftiest state,
And the lowest, to the end,
Obloquy and scorn attend.
FT we enhance our ills by discontent,
And give them bulk beyond what nature meant.
A parent, brother, friend deceas'd, to cry—
"He's dead indeed, but he was born to die."
Such temperate grief is suited to the size,
And burthen of the loss, is just, and wise.
But to exclaim, "Ah! wherefore was I born,
Thus to be left, for ever thus folorn?"
Who thus laments his loss, invites distress,
And magnifies a woe that might be less,
Through dull despondence to his lot resigned,
And leaving reason's remedy behind.
I slept, when Venus enter’d: Το my bed
A Cupid in her beauteous hand she led
A bashful-seeming boy, and thus she said:
Shepherd receive my little one! I bring
"An untaught love, whom thou must teach to sing."
She said, and left him. I suspecting nought
Many a sweet strain my subtle pupil taught,
How reed to reed Pan first with ozier bound
How Pallas form'd the pipe of softest sound,
How Hermes gave the lute, and how the quire
Of Phoebus owe to Phoebus' self the lyre.
Such were my themes; my themes nought heeded he,
But ditties sang of am'rous sort to me,
The pangs that mortals and immortals prove
From Venus' influence, and the darts of love.
Thus was the teacher by the pupil taught
His lessons I retain'd, and mine forgot.
TRANSLATIONS from HORACE and VIRGIL.
(Printed in Duncombe's Horace.)
A humourous Description of the Author's Journey from Rome to Brudusium.
'TWAS a long journey lay before us,
When I, and honest Heliodorus,
Who far in point of rhetoric
Surpasses ev'ry living Greek,
Each leaving our respective home,
Together sally'd forth from Rome.
First at Aricia we alight,
And there refresh, and pass the night,
Our entertainment rather coarse
Than sumptuous, but I've met with worse.
Thence o'er the causeway soft and fair
To Apiiforum we repair.
But as this road is well supply'd
(Temptation strong!) on either side
We split the journey, and perform
In two days time what's often done
By brisker travellers in one.
Here, rather choosing not to sup
Than with bad water mix my cup,
After a warm debate in spite
Of a provoking appetite,
I sturdily resolv'd at last
To balk it, and pronounce a fast,
And in a moody humour wait,
While my less dainty comrades bait.
Now o'er the spangled hemisphere
Diffus'd, the starry train appear,
When there arose a desp'rate brawl
The slaves and bargemen, one and all,
Rending their throats (have mercy on us!)
As if they were resolv'd to stun us.
"Steer the barge this way to the shore!
"I tell you, we'll admit no more!
Plague! Will you never be content ?"
Thus a whole hour at least is spent,
While they receive the sev'ral fares,
And kick the mule into his gears.
Happy, these difficulties past,
Could we have fall'n asleep at last!
But, what with humming, croaking, biting,
Gnats, frogs, and all their plagues uniting,
These tunefnl natives of the lake
Conspir'd to keep us broad awake.
Besides, to make the concert full
Two maudlin wights, exceeding dull,
The bargeman and a passenger,
Each in his turn, essay'd an air
In honour of his absent fair.
At length the passenger, opprest
With wine, left off, and snor'd the rest.
The weary bargeman too gave o'er,
And hearing his companion snore,
Seiz'd the occasion, fix'd the barge,
Turn'd out his mule to graze at large,
And slept, forgetful of his charge.
And now the sun o'er eastern hill,
Discover'd, that our barge stood still;
one, whose anger vex'd him sore, With malice fraught, leaps quick on shore; Plucks up a stake, with many a thwack Assails the mule and driver's back.
Then slowly moving on with pain,
At ten Feronia's stream we gain,
And in her pure and glassy wave
Our hands and faces gladly lave.
Climbing three miles, fair Anxur's height
We reach, with stony quarries white.
While here, as was agreed, we wait,
'Till charg'd with bus'ness of the state,
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