Children's Play Tho Traversing with Streams of Blood they meet They tread no Carkase yet beneath their Feet And Scandal think 't to have none Slain out-right Between two Hosts that for Religion Fight This whets their Rage to search for Stones as large As they cou'd lift or with both Hands discharge Not altogether of a size if match'd With those which Ajax once or Turnus snatch'd For their Defence or by Tydides thrown That brusht Aeneas Crest and struck him down Of Weight wou'd make two Men strein hard to Raise Such Men as liv'd in honest Homer's Days Whom Gyants yet to us we must allow Dwindled into a Race of Pygmies now The Mirth and Scorn of Gods that see us Fight Such little Wasps and yet so full of spight For bulk meer Insects yet in Mischief strong And spent so ill our short Life 's much too long Fresh Forces now of Tâ—â—tyrites from Town With Swords and Darts to Aid their Friends come down Who with fleet Arrows levell'd from a far E're They themselves appâ—ach'd secure the War Hard set before what cou'd the Ombites do They fly their pressing Foes as fast pursue An Ombite Wretch by head-long hast betray'd And falling down i' th' Rout is Pris'ner made Whose Flesh torn off by Lumps the Rav'nous Foe In Morsells cut to make it further go His Bones clean Pickt his very Bones they gnaw No Stomack 's baulkt because the Corpse is raw T' had been lost Time to Dress him keen Desire Supplies the want of Kettle Spit and Fire Prometheus Ghost is sure o're-joy'd to see His Heav'n-stoâ—n Fire from such disaster free Nor seems the sparkling Element less pleas'd than he The Guests are found too num'rous for the Treat But all it seems who had the Luck to Eat Swear they ne're tasted more Delicious Meat They swear and such good Palates you shou'd trust Who doubts the Relish of the first free gust Since one who had i' th' Rear excluded been And cou'd not for a Taste o' th' Flesh come in Licks the soild Earth which he thinks full as good While reeking with a manglâ—d Omâ—iâ—'s Blood The Vascons once with Man's Flesh as 't is sed Kept Life and Soul together grant they did Their Case was diff'rent with long Siege distress'd And all Extremities of War oppress'd For Miserable to the last Degree Th' Excuse of such a Practice ought to be With Creatures Vermin Herbs and Weeds sustain'd While Creatures Vermin Herbs or Weeds remain'd Till to such meagre Spectacles reduc'd As ev'n Compassion in the Foe produc'd Acquitted by the Manes of the Dead And Ghosts of Carkasses on which they Fed. By Zeno's Doctrine we are taught 't is true For Life's support no harmless thing to do But Zeno never to the Vascons read 'T is since their Days that Civil Arts have spred 'T was lately Brittish Lawyers from the Gaul Learnt to Harrangue and Eloquently bawl Thule hopes next t' improve her Northern Stile And Plant where yet no Spring did ever Smile With Flow'rs of Rhetorick her Frozen Isle That Brave the Vascons were we must confess Who Fortitude preserv'd in such Distress Yet not the Brightest their Example Shines Eclips'd by the more Noble Saguntines Who both the Foe and Famine to beguile For Dead and Living rais'd one common Pile Maeotis first did Impious Rites devise Of Treating God's with Humane Sacrifice But Salvage Egypt's Cruelty exceeds The Scythian Shrine where tho the Captive Bleeds Secure of Burial when his Life is fled The Murd'ring Knife'sthrown by when once the Victim's Dead Did Famine to this Monst'rous Fact compell Or did the Miscreants try this Conj'ring Spell In time of Drought to make the Nile to swell Amongst the rugged Cimbrians or the Race Of Gauls or fiercer Tartars can you Trace An out-rage of Revenge like This pursu'd By an Effeminate Scoundrel Multitude Whose utmost Daring is to cross the Nile In Painted Boats to fright the Crocodile Can Men or more resenting Gods invent Or Hell inflict Proportion'd Punishment On Varlets who cou'd Treat Revenge and Spight With such a Feast as Famine's self wou'd fright Compassion proper to Mankind appears Which Nature Witness'd when she let us Tears Of tender Sentiments we only give Those Proofs To Weep in our Prerogative To shew by pittying Looks and melting Eyes How with a Suff'ring Friend we Sympathize Nay Tears will ev'n from a Wrong'd Orphan slide When his false Guardian at the Bar is try'd So tender so unwilling to Accuse So oft the Roses on his Cheek bedews So soft his Tresses fill'd with trickling Pearl You 'd doubt his Sex and take him for a Girl B'Impulse of Nature tho to us unknown The Party be we make the Loss our own And Tears steal from our Eyes when in the Street With some betrothed Virgin 's Hearse we meet Or Infant 's Fun'ral from the cheated Womb Convey'd to Earth and Cradled in a Tomb. Who can all Sense of Others Ills escape Is but a Brute at best in Humane shape This Natural Piety did first refine Our Wit and rais'd our Thoughts to Things Divine This proves our Spirit of the Gods descent While that of Beasts is Prone and down-ward bent To them but Earth-born Liâ—e thâ—y did dispence To us for mutual Aid Caelestial Sense From straggling Mountainers for Publick Good To Rank in Tribes and quit the Salvage Wood. Houses to build and them contiguous make For cheerful Neighbour-hood and 〈◊〉 sake In War a Common Standard to Erect A Wounded Friend in Battle to Protect The Summons take of the same Trumpet 's Call To Sally from one Port or Man on publick Wall But Serpents now more Anâ—ty maintain From spotted Skins the Leopard do's refrain No weaker Lion's by a stronger slain Nor from his larger Tuâ—ks the Forrest Bore Commission takes his Brother Swine to Gore Tyger with Tyger Bear with Bear you 'll find In Leagues Offensive and Defensive join'd But lawless Man the Anvil dares profane And Forg'd that Steel by which a Man is slain Which Earth at first for Plowshares did afford Nor yet the Smith had learnt to form a Sword An impious Crew we have beheld whose Rage Their En'mies very Life cou'd not Asswage Unless they Banquet on the Wretch they slew Devour the Corps and lick the Blood they drew What think you wou'd Pythagoras have sed Of such a Feast or to what Desart fled Who Flesh of Animals refus'd to Eat Nor held all sorts of Pulse for lawful Meat The End of the Fifteenth Satyr EXPLANATORY NOTES ON THE FIFTEENTH SATYR THE Crocodile A sort of Bird in those Parts that is a great destroyer of Serpents Thebes in Baeotia had seven Gates this in Egypt an Hundred and therefore call'd Hecatompylus This Colossus or Marble Statue of Memnon held a Harp in its Hand which utter'd Musical sounds when struck by the Beams of the rising Sun which Strabo tells us that he both saw and heard but confesses he is not able to
Sex Nor yet by help of all their wicked Art Bring Offspring to secure their Husband's Heart Nature too much i' th' dire Embrace is forc'd But ne're joins Influence with Desires so curs'd Incestuous Births and Monstâ—rs may appear But teeming Males not Earth nor Hell can bear Yet Graâ—â—hus thou degen'rate Son of Fame Thy Pranks are stigmatiz'd with greater blame Theirs was a privaâ—e thine an open Shame Who like a Fencer on a Publick Stage Hast made thy self the Scandal of the Age. Nor can Roâ—â—â—'s Noblest Blood with thine compare While thou maâ—'st Pâ—stime for the Theatre To what dir◠〈◊〉 can we assign these Crimes But to that reigning Atheism of the Times Ghosts Stygian Lakes and Frogs with croaking Note And Charon wafting Souls in leaky Boat Are now thought Fables to fright Fools conceiv'd Or Children and by Children scarce believ'd Yet give thou Credit What can we suppose The Temperate Curii and the Scipio's What will Fabricius or Camillus think When they behold from their Elisium's brink An Atheist's Soul to last Perdition sink How will they from th' assaulted Banks rebound And wish for Sacred Rites to purge th' unhallow'd ground In vain O Rome thou dost thy Conquest boast Beyond the Orcades short-nighted Coast Since free the conquer'd Provinces remain From Crimes that thy Imperial City stain Yet Rumour speaks if we may credit Fame Of one Armenian Youth who since he came Has learn'd the impious Trade and does exceed The lewdest Pathicks of our Roman Breed Blessings of Commerce he was sent 't is said For Breeding hither And he 's fairly bred Fly Foreign Youths from our polluted Streets And e're unman'd regain your Native Seats Lest while for Traffick here too long you stay You learn at last to trade th' Italian way And with curs'd Merchandise returning home Stock all your Country with the Figs of Rome The End of the Second Satyr EXPLANATORY NOTES ON THE SECOND SATYR SUppos'd by some to be Caesar Pompey and Crassus but by others more probably Augustus Anthony and Lepidus The Lex Iulia against Adultery Viz. Deform'd and so resembling Domitian The Law so called from Scantinius against whom it was put in Execution Suppos'd to be the Colledge of Priests appointed by Domitian to Celebrate the Quinquatria to Minerva Perverted Rites Because here Women were Excluded from the Mysteries as Men were elsewhere from Ceres's Worship Cotyttus Orgies The Goddess of Impudence Worshipp'd at Athens A Strumpet in her Life time that us'd to Dance Naked with most Obscene Gestures An Instance of Extraordinary Effeminacy it being the Custom for only Women to Swear by Goddesses the Men by Iove Hercules c. Alluding to the Priests of the Phrygian Goddesses who were castrated Viz. The One to Punish the Other to Expiate such Unnatural Crimes He means one of the Salii or Priests of Mars who carry'd his Shield and Implements and was Brawny enough to Dance under them at his Festival Câ—elestia Martis Arma ferunt Salii Ov. Fast. 3. Mars Father of Romulus who Founded Rome Emrods call'd in Latin Ficus THE THIRD SATYR OF JUVENAL Translated into ENGLISH VERSE BY Mr. DRYDEN ARGUMENT OF THE Third Satyr The Story of this Satyr speaks it self Umbritius the suppos'd Friend of Juvenal and himself a Poet is leaving Rome and retiring to Cumae Our Author accompanies him out of Town Before they take leave of each other Umbritius tells his Friend the Reasons which oblige him to lead a private life in an obscure place He complains that an honest man cannot get his bread at Rome That none but Flatterers make their Fortunes there That Grecians and other Foreigners raise themselves by those sordid Arts which he describes and against which â—e bitterly inveighs He reckons up the several Inconveniencies which arise from a City life and the many Dangers which attend it Upbraids the Noblemen with Covetousness for not Rewarding good Poets and arraigns the Government for starving them The great Art of this Satyr is particularly shown in Common Places and drawing in as many Vices as cou'd naturally fall into the compass of it THE THIRD SATYR GRiev'd tho I am an Ancient Friend to lose I like the Solitary Seat he chose In quiet Cumae fixing his Repose Where far from Noisy Rome secure he Lives And one more Citizen to Sybil gives The Road to Bajae and that soft Recess Which all the Gods with all their Bounty bless Tho I in Prochyta with greater ease Cou'd live than in a Street of Palaces What Scene so Deâ—art or so full of Fright As tow'ring Houses tumbling in the Night And Rome on Fire beheld by its own Blazing Light But worse than all the clatt'ring Tiles and worse Than thousand Padders is the Poet's Curse Rogues that in Dog-days cannot Rhime forbear But without Mercy read and make you hear Now while my Friend just ready to depart Was packing all his Goods in one poor Cart He stopp'd a little at the Conduit-Gate Where Numa modell'd once the Roman State In Mighty Councels with his Nymphs retir'd Though now the Sacred Shades and Founts are hir'd By Banish'd Jews who their whole Wealth can lay In â— smalâ— Basket on a Wisp of Hay Yet such our Avarice is that every Tree Pays for his Head not Sleep it self is free Nor Place nor Persons now are Sacred held From their own Grove the Muses are expell'd Into this lonely Vale our Steps we bend I and my sullen discontented Friend The Marble Caves and Aquaeducts we view But how Adult rate now and different from the true How much morâ— Beauteous had the Fountain been Embellish't with her first Created Green Where Crystal Streams through living Turf had run Contented with an Urn of Native Stone Then thus Vmbricius with an Angry Frown And looking back on this degen'rate Town Since Noble Arts in Rome have no supporâ— And ragged Virtue not a Friend at Court No Profit rises from th' ungrateful Stage My Poverty encreasing with my Age 'T is time to give my just Disdain a vent And Cursing leave so base a Government Where Dedalâ—â— his borrow'd Wings laid by To that obscure Retreat I chuse to fly While yet few furrows on my Face are seen While I walk upright and Old Age is green And Lachesis has somewhat left to spin Now now ' tisâ— time to quit this cursed place And hide from Villains my too honest Face Here let Arturius live and such as he Such Manners will with such a Town agree Knaves who in full Assemblies have the knack Of turning Truth to Lies and White to Black Can hire large Houses and oppress the Poor By farm'd Excise can cleanse the Common-shoare And rent the Fishery can bear the dead And teach their Eyes dissembled Tears to shed All this for Gain for Gain they sell their very Head These Fellows see what Fortune's pow'r can do Were once the Minstrels of a Country Show Follow'd the Prizâ—s through
lash the Pupil and defraud the Ward Then then I say or wou'd say if I durst But thus provok'd I must speak out or burst FRIEND Once more forbear PERSIUS I cannot rule my Spleen My scorn Rebels and tickles me within First to begin at Home our Authors write In lonely Rooms secur'd from publick sight Whether in Prose or Verse 't is all the same The Prose is Fustian and the Numbers lame All Noise and empty Pomp a storm of words Lab'ring with sound that little Sence affords They Comb and then they order ev'ry Hair A Gown or White or Scour'd to whiteness wear A Birth-day Jewel bobbing at their Ear Next gargle well their Throats and thus prepar'd They mount a God's Name to be seen and heard From their high Scaffold with a Trumpet Cheek And Ogling all their Audience e're they speak The nauseous Nobles ev'n the Chief of Rome With gaping Mouths to these Rehearsals come And pant with Pleasure when some lusty line The Marrow pierces and invades the Chine At open fulsom Bawdry they rejoice And slimy Jests applaud with broken Voice Base Prostitute thus dost thou gain thy Bread Thus dost thou feed their Ears and thus art fed At his own filthy stuff he grins and brays And gives the sign where he expects their praise Why have I Learn'd say'st thou if thus confin'd I choak the Noble Vigour of my Mind Know my wild Fig-Tree which in Rocks is bred Will split the Quarry and shoot out the Head Fine Fruits of Learning Old Ambitious Fool Dar'st thou apply that Adage of the School As if 't is nothing worth that lies conceal'd And Science is not Science till Reveal'd Oh but 't is Brave to be Admir'd to see The Crowd with pointing Fingers cry That 's he That 's he whose wondrous Poem is become A Lecture for the Noble Youth of Rome Who by their Fathers is at Feasts Renown'd And often quoted when the Bowls go round Full gorg'd and flush'd they wantonly Rehearse And add to Wine the Luxury of Verse One clad in Purple not to lose his time Eats and recites some lamentable Rhime Some Senceless Phyllis in a broken Note Snuffling at Nose or croaking in his Throat Then Graciously the mellow Audience Nod Is not th' Immortal Authour made a God Are not his Manes blest such Praise to have Lies not the Turf more lightly on his Grave And Roses while his lowd Applause they Sing Stand ready from his Sepulcher to spring All these you cry but light Objections are Meer Malice and you drive the Jest too far For does there Breath a Man who can reject A general Fame and his own Lines neglect In Câ—dar Tablets worthy to appear That need not Fish or Franckincense to fear Thou whom I make the adverse part to bear Be answer'd thus If I by chance succeed In what I Write and that 's a chance indeed Know I am not so stupid or so hard Not to feel Praise or Fames deserv'd Reward But this I cannot grant that thy Applâ—use Is my Works ultimate or only Cause Prudence can ne're propose so mean a prize For mark what Vanity within it lies Like Labeo's Iliads in whose Verse iâ— found Nothing but trifling care and empty sound Such little Elegies as Nobles Write Who wou'd be Poets in Apollo's spight Them and their woful Works the Muse defies Products of Citron Beds and Golden Canopies To give thee all thy due thou hast the Heart To make a Supper with a fine dessert And to thy threed-bare Friend a cast old Sute impart Thus Brib'd thou thus bespeak'st him tell me Friend For I love Truth nor can plain Speech offend What says the World of me and of my Muse The Poor dare nothing tell but flatt'ring News But shall I speak thy Verse is wretched Rhyme And all thy Labours are but loss of time Thy strutting Belly swells thy Pauâ—ch is high Thou Writ'st not but thou Pissest Poetry All Authours to their own defects are blind Hadst thou but Ianus like a Face behind To see the People what spâ—ay-Mouths they make To mark their Fingeâ—s pointed at thy back Their Tongues loll'd out a foot beyond the pitch When most a thirst of an Apulian Bitch But Noble Scriblers are with Flatt'ry fed For none dare find their Faults who Eat their Bread To pass the Poets of Patrician Blood What is 't the common Reader takes for good The Verse in fashion is when Numbers flow Soft without Sence and without Spirit â—low So smooth and equal that no sight can â—ind The Riveâ— where the polish'd piece was join'd So even all with such a steady view As if he shut one Eye to level true Whether the Vulgar Vice his Satyr stings The Peoples Riots or the Rage of Kings The gentle Poet is alike in all His Reader hopes no rise and fears no fall FRIEND Hourly we see some Raw Pin-feather'd tâ—ing Attempt to mount and Fights and Heroes sing Who for false quantities was whipt at School But t'other day and breaking Grammar Rule Whose trivial Art was never try'd above The bare description of a Native Grove Who knows not how to praise the Country store The Feasts the Basketâ— nor the fatted Bore Nor paint the flowry Fields that painâ— themselves before Where Romulus was Bred and Quiâ—â—iuâ— Born Whose shining Plough-share was in Furrows worn Met by his trembling Wife returning Home And Rustically Joy'd as Chief of Rome She wip'd the Sweat from the Dictator's Brow And o're his Back his Robe did rudely throw The Lictors bore in State their Lord 's Triumphant Plough Some love to hear the Fustian Poet roar And some on Antiquated Authours pore Rummage for Sense and think those only good Who labour most and least are understood When thou shalt see the Blear-Ey'd Faâ—hers Teach Their Sons this harsh and mouldy sort of Speech Or others new affected ways to try Of wanton smoothness Female Poetry One wou'd enquire from whence this moâ—ley Stilâ— Did first our Roman Purity defile For our Old Dotards cannot keep their Seat But leap and catch at all that 's obsolete Others by Foolish Oâ—tentation fed When call'd before the Bar to save their Head Bring trifling Tropes instead of solid Sence And mind their Figures more than their Defence Are pleas'd to hear their thick-scull'd Judges cry Well mov'd oh finely said and decently Theft says th' Accuser to thy Charge I lay O Pedius What does gentle Pedius say Studious to please the Genius of the Times With Periods Points and Tropes he slurs his Crimes He Robb'd not but he Borrow'd from the Poor And took but with intention to restore He lards with flourishes his long Harangue 'T is fine say'st thou what to be Prais'd and Hang Effeminate Roman shall such Stuff prevail To tickle thee and make thee wag thy Tail Say shou'd a Shipwrack'd Saylor sing his woe Woud'st thou be mov'd to pity or bestow An Alms What 's more prepost'rous than to see A