JUVENAL

THE

NINTH SATYR

By STEPHEN HARVEY, Efq;,

The ARGUMENT.

Juvenal here fin Dialogue with Nevolus) expofes the deteftable Vice then practis'din Rome, andthe Covetousness of a Rich old Citizen, which so prevail'd over his Pleafure, that he would not gratifie the Drudge who bad fo often Oblig'd him in the lewd Enjoyment of his Defire.

TELL

JUVENAL.

ELL me, why, faunt'ring thus from Place to Place, 1 meet thee (Nevolus) with a Clouded Face?

What Human Ills can urge to this degree?

Not Vanquifht Marfyas had a Brow like thee;
Nor Ravola fo fneak'd and hung his Head,

Catch'd with that lewd Bawd Rhodope in Bed:

TA Phrygian, who challeng ing Apollo. at Mufick, was o“

vercome, and flead alive for. his Prefumption,

Y

Our Grand Beau Pollio feem'd not half fo fad
When not a Drachma cou'd in Rome be had.
When treble Use he proffer'd for a Friend,
And tempting Bribes did to the Seriv'ners fend,
Yet none he found fo much a Fool to lend.
Hard Fate! untroll'd is now the Charming Dye,
The Play-House and the Parks unvifited muft lie;
The Beauteous Nymph in vain he does adore,
And his gilt Chariot Wheels muft Rowl no more.
But why these frightful Wrinkles in thy Prime?
That fhew old Age fo long before the time;
At loweft Ebb of Fortune when you lay
(Contented then) how Merry was the Day.
But oh the Curfe of withing to be Great:
Dazzled with Hope we cannot fee the Cheat;-
Where wild Ambition in the Heart we find,
Farewel Content and Quiet of the Mind.
For Glittering Clouds we leave the folid Shoar,
And wonted Happiness returns no more.
Till fuch afpiring Thoughts had fill'd thy Breaft,
No Man fo pleafant, fuch a chearful Guest;
So Brisk, fe Gay, of that engaging Air,
No Mirth was Crown'd till Nevolus was there:
The Scene's now chang'd, that frolick Genius fled,
And Gloomy Thought feems enter'd in its stead;
Thy Cloaths worn out, not Hands nor Linnen clean,
And thy bare Skin through the large, Rents is feen;
Thy Locks uncomb'd like a rough Wood appear,
And every Part feems fuited to thy Care.
Where's now that labour'd Niceness, in thy Dress,
And all thofe Arts that did the Spark exprefs?
A Look fo pale no Quartane ever gave,
Thy dwindled Legs feem crawling to a Grave

A.Fop in Rome, that had an out his late

T

}

When

When we are touch'd with some important Ill,
How vainly Silence would our Grief conceal!
Sorrow nor Joy can be difguis'd by Art,
Our Foreheads blab the Secrets of our Heart:
By which (alas) 'tis evident and plain

Thy Hopes are dafh'd, and thy Endeavours vain;
And yet 'tis ftrange! But lately thou wert known
For the most envied Stallion of the Town.

What conscious 3 Shrine, what Cell by thee unfought,
Where Love's dark Pleafures might be fold and bought?
From human View you hid thefe Deeds of Luft,
But Gods in Brafs and Marble you could truft:.
Ceres her felf not feap'd, for where can be
From Bawds and Prostitutes an Altar free?
Nor didst thou only for the Females burn,
The Husband and the Wife fucceeded in their Turn,
New. This Life I own to fome has Profp'rous been;
But I have no fuch Golden Minutes feen:
Right have you hit the Caufe of my Distress,
None has Earn'd more, and been Rewarded lefs;
All I can gain is but a Threadbare Coat,
And that with utmoft Pains and Drudging got:
Some Single Money too, but that (alas)
Broken and Counterfeit will hardly pafs.
Whilft others, pamper'd in their fhameless Pride,
Are ferv'd in Plate, and in their Chariots ride:
Tell me what Mortal can his Grief contain,
That has, like me, fuch Reason to complain?
On Fate alone Man's Happiness depends,
To Parts conceal'd Fate's prying Pow'r extends:
And if our Stars of their kind Influence fail,
The Gifts of Nature, what will they avail?

3 The Temples, and Images of their Gods, were (by Night) the Common Places of Affignation,

To the Temple of Certs only the Chaft and friteft Marrons were admitted, &r.

The