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Doors with Laurels; and a Bull,
Milk white, and large, lead to the Capitol;
Sejanus with a Rope, is dragg'd along;
The Sport and Laughter of the giddy Throng!
Good Lord, they cry, what Ethiop Lips he has,
How foul a Saout, and what a hanging Face?
By Heav'n, I never cou'd endure bis Sight;
But say, how came his monstrous Crimes to Light ?
What is the Charge, and who the Evidence
(The Saviour of the Nation and the Prince?)
Nothing of this; but our old Cefar sent
A noisie Letter to His Parliament :
Nay Sirs, if Cæfar writ, I ask no more,
He's guilty; and the Question's out of Door.
How goes the Mob? (for that's a mighty Thing, )
When the King's Trump, the Mob are for the King
They follow Fortune, and the common Cry
Is fill against the Rogue condemn'd to die.

But the same very Mob, that Rascal Crowd,
Had ay'd Sejanus, with a Shout as loud;
Had his Designs ( by Fortune's Favour blest)
Succeeded, and the Prince's Age opprest.
But long, long face, the Times have chang'd their face,
The People grown degenerate and base:
Not suffer'd now the Freedom of their Choice,
To make their Magistrates, and sell their Voice,

Our wise Fore-Fathers, great by Sea and Land,
Had once the Pow'r and absolute Command;
All Offices of Trust, themselves dispos'd;
Rais'd whom they pleas'd, and whom they pleas'd Depos'd.
But we who give our native Rights away,
And our enflav'd Pofterity betray,
Are now reduc'd to beg an Alms, and go
On Holidays to see a Puppet Show,

There was a damn'd Design, cries one, no doubt ;
For Warrants are already issued out:

I met

I met Brutidius in a mortal Fright;
He's dipt for certain, and plays least in light:
I fear the Rage of our offended Prince,
Who thinks the Senate Nack in his Defence!
Come let us halte, our Loyal Zeal to show,
And spurn the wretched Corps of Cæsar's Foe :
But let our Slaves be present there, left they
Accuse their Masters, and for Gain betray.
Such were the Whispers of those jealous Times,
About Sejarus' Punishment, and Crimes,

Now tell me truly, woud't thou change thy Fate
To be, like him, first Minister of State ?
To have thy Levees crouded with Resort,
Of a depending, gaping, servile Court:
Dispose all Honours of the Sword and Gowa,
Grace with a Nod, and ruin with a Frown;
To hold thy Prince in pupil Age, and sway
That Monarch, whom the master'd World obey 2
While he, intent on secret Lufts alone,
Lives to himself, abandoning the Throne;
Coop'd 3 in a narrow Ife, observing Dreams
With flattering Wizards, and erecting Schemes!

I well believe, thou wou'd it be Great as he;
For ev'ry Man's a Fool to that degree;
All wish the dire Prerogative to kill;
Ev’n they wou'd have the Pow'r, who want the Will:
But wou'dlt thou have thy Wishes understood,
To take the Bad together with the Good?
Wou'dit thou not rather chuse a small Renown,
To be the May'r of some poor paltry Towo,

3 The Isand of Caprea, which, for some years with Diviners lies about a League out at Soothsayers, and worse ComSea from the Campanian Shore, pany

And from thence was the Scene of Tiberius's dispatch'd all his Orders to Pleasures in the latter Part the Senate. of his Reiga. There he liv'd

Bigly to look, and barb'rously to speak;
To pound false Weights, and scanty Measures break?
Then, grant we that Sejanus went astray
la ev'ry Wish, and knew not how to pray:
For be who grasp'd the World's exhausted Store
Yet never had enough, but wilh'd for more,
Rais'd a top-heavy Tow'r, of monstrous height,
Which mould'ring, cruth'd him underneath the Weight.

What did the mighty Pompey's Fall beget?
It Ruin'd 4 him, who Greater than the Great,
The Stubborn Pride of Roman Nobles broke;
And bent their haughty Necks beneath his Yoke:
What else, but his immoderate Luft of Pow's,
Pray’rs made and granted in a Luckless Hour?
For few Usurpers to the Shades descend
By a dry Death, or with a quiet End.

The Boy, who scarce bas paid his Entrance
To his proud Pedant, or declin'd a Noun,
(So small an Elf, that when the Days are foul,
He and his Satchel must be born to School, )
Yet prays, and hopes, and aims at nothing less,
To s prove a Tully, or Demofthenes :
But both those Orators, so much renown'd,
In their own Depths of Eloqueace were drown'd;
The Hand and Head were never lost, of chose
Who dealt in Dogrel, or who punn'd in Profe.

une o foretund the Dying Notes of Rome; Till I, thy Conful sole, confold thy Doom.

His 4 Juliøs Casar, who got the Captains, who had then made better of Pompey, that was himself Master of Athens. tilld The Great.

Tully was murdered by M. Ans Demosthenes and Tully, thony's Order, in return for both died for their Oratory. thofe Inveđives he had made Demofthenes gave himself Poy- againft him. Ton, to avoid being carried to 6 The Latin of this Couplet Antipater, one of Alexander's is a Famous verfe of Tnly's,

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His Fate had crept below the lifted Swords,
Had all his Malice been to murder Words.
I rather wou'd be Mevius, thrash for Rimes
Like his, the Scorn and Scandal of the Times,
Than 7 that Philipique fatally Divine,
Which is inscrib'd the Second, should be mine.
Nor he, the Wonder of the Grecian Throng,
Who drove them with the Torrent of his Tongue,
Who shook the Theaters, and sway'd the State
Of Athens, found a more propitious Fate.
Whom, born beneath a boding Horoscope,
His Sire, the blear-ey'd Vulcan of a Shop,
From Mars his Forge, sent to Minerva's Schools,
To learn th'unlucky Art of wheedling Fools.

With Itch of Honour, and Opinion, vain,
All things beyond their native Worth we strain :
The 8 Spoils of War, brought to Feretrian Fove,
An empty Coat of Armour hung above
The Conqueror's Chariot, and in Triumph born,
A Streamer from a boarded Galley torn,
A Chap-falo Beaver loosely hanging by
The Cloven Helm, an Arch of Victory,
On whose high Convex fits a Captive Foe,
And lighing casts a mournful Look below;
Of ev'ry Nation, each Illustrious Name,
Such Toys as these have cheated into Fame:
Exchanging solid Quiet, to obtain
The wiady Satisfaction of the Brain.

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in which he sets out the Hap- 1 against M. Anthony,
piness of his own Consullip; Ail'd by him Philippics, in
Famous for the Vanity, and imitation of Demosthenes; who
the ill Poetry of it. For Tully had given that Name before
as he had a great deal of the to those he made against Phie
one, so he had no great Share lip of Macedon.
of the other.

8 This is a Mock-Account 2 The Orations of Tully, J. of a Roman Triumph.


So much the Thirst of Honour fires the Blood;
So many wou'd be Great, so few be Good.
For who wou'd Virtue for her self regard,
Or Wed, without the Portion of Reward?
Yet this mad Chace of Fame, by few pursu'd,
Has drawn Destruction on the Multitude :
This Avarice of Praise in Times to come,
Those long Inscriptions, crowded on the Tomb,
Shou'd fome wild Fig-Tree take her native bent,
And heave below the gaudy Monument,
Wou'd crack the Marble Titles, and disperse
The Characters of all the lying Verse.
For Sepulchres themselves must crumbling fall
In Time's Abyss, the common Grave of all.

Great Hannibal within the Balance lay;
And tell how many Pounds his Alhes weigh;
Whom Africk was not able to contain,
Whose Length runs level with th’Atlantick Main,
And wearies fruitful Nilus, to convey
His Sun-beat Waters by so long a Way;
Which Eshiopia's double Clime divides,
And Elephants in other Mountains hides.
Spain first he won, the Pyrenæans past,
And steepy Alps, the Mounds that Nature cast:
And with corroding Juices, as he weat,
A Passage through the living Rocks he rent.
Then, like a Torrent, rowling from on high,
He pours bis head-long Rage on Italy ;
In three Victorious Battels over-run;
Yet still uneasie, cries There's nothing done,
Till, level with the Ground, their Gates are laid;
And Punick Flags on Roman Tow'rs display'd.
Ask what a Face belong'd to his high Fame:
His Picture scarcely wou'd deserve a Frame:

A Sign-Post Dawber wou'd disdain to paint · The one-ey'd Hero on his Elephant.

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