Sidor som bilder
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Our Grand Beau ? Pollio seem'd not half so lad
When got a Drachma cou'd in Rome be bad.
When treble Use he proffer'd for a Friend,
And tempting Bribes did to the Scriv'ners send,
Yet none be found so mucb' a Fool to lend.
Hard Fate! untrolld is now the Charming Dye,
The Play-House and the Parks uavisited muß lie;
The Beauteous Nympha in vain he does adore,
And bis gilt Chariot Wheels muft Rowl no more.

But why these frightful Wrinkles ia thy Prime ??
That few old Age so long before the time;
At loweft Ebb of Fortune when you lay
(Contented then) bow Merry was the Day.
But ob the Curse of withing to be Great:
Dazzled with Hope we cannot see the Cheat; -
Where wild Ambition in the Heart we find,
Parewel Content and Quiet of the Mind.
For Glittering Clouds we leave the folid Shoar,
And wonted Happiness returns no more.
Til such aspiring Thoughts had filla thy Breaft,
No Man fo pleasant, such a chearful Guest;
So Brisk, fo Gay, of that engaging Air,
No Mirth was Crown'd till Nevolus.was there ::
The Scene's now chang'd, that frolick Genius Aed,
And Gloomy Thought seems enter'd in its-steady
Thy Cloaths worn out, not Hands nor Lionen cleans.
And thy bare Skin through the large Rents is feen;
Thy Locks uncomba likę, a rough Wood appeargin
And

every Part feems suited to thy Care.
Where's now. that labour'd Nicencís, in thy Dressyr
And all those Arts that did the Spark express?
A Look fo palc no Quartane ever gave,
Thy dwindled Legs leem crawling to a Grave

A Fop in Rome, that had mun.our his Blaten.

When

When we are touch'd with some important Ill,
How vainly Silence would our Grief conccal!
Sorrow nor Joy can be disguis'd by Art,
Our Foreheads blab the Secrets of our Heart :
By which (alas) 'tis evident and plain
Thy Hopes are dash'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 unsought,
Where Love's dark Pleafures might be sold and bought?
From human View you hid thesë Deeds. of Luft,
But Gods in Brass and Marble you cou'd truf:
Ceres 4 her self not fcap'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 succeeded in their Turn.

New. This Life I own to some has Prosp?rous beca; But I have no such Golden Minutes seen:

you bit the Cause of my Distress,
None has Earn’d more, and been Rewarded less;
all I can gain is but a Threadbare Coat,
And that with utmost Pains and Drudgiog got:
Some Single Money too, but that (alas)
Broken and Counterfeit will hardly pass.
whilft others, pamper'd in their shameless 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 conceald Fate's prying Pow'r extends:
And if our Stars of their kind InAuence fail,
The Gifts of Nature, what will they avail?

3 The Temples, and Images + To the Temple of (etis, of their Gods, were (by Night) only the Chast and furi&eft. the Common Places of Amigo Mairons were admitted, br. nation,

The

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The Gifts of Nature! Curse upon the Thought,
By that alonę I am to Ruin brought.
Old Virro did the Fatal Secret hear
(But Curse on Fame that bore it to his Ear.)
What soft Address his wooing did begin?
Wbat Oaths, what Promises to draw me in?
Scarce cou'd they fail to make a Virgin Sin.
Who wou'd not then swear Nevolus had sped,
And Golden Show'rs were dropping on his Head?
But ob this Wretch, this Prodigy behold!
A Slave at once to Letchery and Gold!
For in the set of his lewd Brutal Joy,
Sirrah! My Rogue (he cries) mine own dear Boy!
My Lad, My Lite! already ask for more?
I paid la ft Bout, and you must quit the Score:
“ Poor five 5 Seftertia have been all my Gains,
" And what is that for such detested Pains?
What is an Ease and Pleasure, cou'dft thou say
(Where Nature's Law forbids) to force my way
To the digested Meals of yesterday?
The Slave more toild and harrass’d will be found,
Who digs his Master's Buttocks, than his Ground:
But sure old Virro thinks himself a Boy,
Whom fove once more might languish to enjoy:
Sees not his wither'd Face and grizly

. Hair,
But would be thought Smooth, Charming, Soft, and Fair:
With Female Pride wou'd have his Love be sought,
And every Smile with a Rich Prefent bought.

Say, Goat, for whom this Mass of Wealth you Heap? For whom thy hoarded Bags in silence sleep? Apulian Farms, for the Rich Soil admir’d? And thy large Fields where Falcons may be tir'd? Thy Fruitful Vineyards On Campanian Hills? (Thoʻnone drinks less, yet none more Vessels fills)

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$ A small Coin among the Romansg

From

From such a Store 'tis barbarous to grudge
A small Relief to your Exbaufted Drudge:
Weigh well the Matter, wer't not fitter muck

The Poor Inbabitants of yonder Thatch
Gall'd me their Lord (who to Extreams am driven)
Than to some worthless Sycophant be given?
(Yet what smooth Sycophant by thee can gain?
When Luft it self strikes thy Flint-Heart in vain?)
A Beggar! Fie! 'tis Impudence, (he cry'd)
And such mean shifting Answers still reply'd:
But Rent unpaid, says Begg, till Virro Grant;
(How ill does Modesty confift with Want ?)
My single Boy (like 6 Polyphemus' Eye)
Mourns bis harla Fate, and weeps for a Supply.
One will not do, hard Labour'd and hard Fed,
How then shall Hungry two expect their Bread?
What shall I say, when rough December storms?
When Frosts, and Snow, have crampt their Naked Arms?
What Comforts without Møny can I bring?
Will they be satisfy'd to think on Springs

These Motives urg'd to his Obdurate Mind,
Is casting Water to the adverse Wind;.
But one thing yet, base Wretch, I must impart;
Thy self shalt own, ungrateful as thou art:
At your Intreaties, had not I obey'd;
Srill your deluded wife had been a Maid: -
Down on the Bridal-bed a Maid frie lay,
A Maid the cose, at the approaching Day.
Another Night, thy lumpish Love The try'd,
But still she rose, a Virgin, and a Bride:
What cou'd have touch'd her more! away the fungi
And every

Street of thy loft Manhood rung.

Bt A Gyant of Sicily, and Porchead, which : Vites by one of the Cyclops who had | Craft put out, and efcsp'd buc one Eys, and that in his from him, 650

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