Sidor som bilder

Where, deftitute of help, forlorn and bare,


He wearies the deaf Gods with fruitless
Their images, the relicts of the wreck,
Torn from the naked poop, are tided back
By the wild waves, and, rudely thrown ashore,
Lie impotent; nor can themfelves restore.
The vessel sticks, and fhews her open'd fide,
And on her shatter'd maft the mews in triumph ride.
From thy new hope, and from thy growing store,
Now lend affiftance, and relieve the poor.
Come; do a noble act of charity;

A pittance of thy land will fet him free.
Let him not bear the badges of a wreck,
Nor beg with a blue table on his back:
Nor tell me that thy frowning heir will fay,
'Tis mine that wealth thou squander'st thus away;
What is 't to thee, if he neglect thy urn,

Or without fpices lets thy body burn?
If odours to thy ashes he refuse,

Or buys corrupted caffia from the Jews?
All thefe, the wifer Beftius will reply,
Are empty pomp, and dead-mens luxury:
We never knew this vain expence, before
Th' effeminated Grecians brought it o'er:
Now toys and trifles from their Athens come;
And dates and pepper have unfinew'd Rome.
· Our sweating hinds their fallads, now, defile,
Infecting homely herbs with fragrant oil.
But to thy fortune be not thou a slave:
For what haft thou to fear beyond the grave?


And thou who gap'ft for my eftate, draw near;
For I would whisper fomewhat in thy ear.

Hear'ft thou the news, my friend? th' exprefs is come
With laurel'd letters from the camp to Rome:

Cæfar falutes the queen and fenate thus:
My arms are on the Rhine victorious.
From mourning altars fweep the dust away:
Ceafe fafting, and proclaim a fat thanksgiving-day.
The goodly emprefs, jollily inclin❜d,

Is to the welcome bearer wondrous kind.:
And, fetting her good housewifery afide,
Prepares for all the pageantry of pride.
The captive Germans, of gigantic size,
Are rank'd in order, and are clad in frize:

The spoils of kings and conquer'd camps we boast,
Their arms in trophies hang on the triumphal post.
Now, for fo many glorious actions done

In foreign parts, and mighty battles won :
For peace at home, and for the public wealth,
I mean to crown a bowl to Cæfar's health:
Besides, in gratitude for such high matters,
Know I have vow'd two hundred gladiators.
Say, would'st thou hinder me from this expence ;
I difinherit thee, if thou dar'ft take offence.
Yet more, a public largefs I defign

Of oil and pies, to make the people dine :
Control me not, for fear I change my will.
And yet methinks I hear thee grumbling ftill,
You give as if you were the Perfian king :
Your land does not fo large revenues bring,


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Well; on my terms thou wilt not be my heir?
If thou car'ft little, lefs fhall be my care:
Were none of all my father's fifters left :
Nay, were I of my mother's kin bereft :
None by an uncle's or a grandame's fide,
Yet I could fome adopted heir provide.
I need but take my journey half a day
From haughty Rome, and at Aricia stay,
Where Fortune throws poor Manius in my way.
Him will I choose: What! him of humble birth,
Obfcure, a foundling, and a son of earth?
Obfcure? Why pr'ythee what am I? Ì know
My father, grandfire, and great-grandfire too.
If farther I derive my pedigree,

I can but guess beyond the fourth degree.
The rest of my forgotten ancestors

Were fons of earth, like him, or fons of whores.


Yet, why would't thou, old covetous wretch, afpire

To be my heir, who might'ft have been my fire?
In Nature's race, fhould ft thou demand of me
My torch, when I in courfe run after thee?
Think I approach thee, like the God of gain,
With wings on head and heels, as poets feign:
Thy moderate fortune from my gift receive;
Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave.
But take it as it is, and afk no more.

What, when thou haft embezzled all thy ftore?
Where's all thy father left? 'Tis true, I grant,
Some I have mortgag'd, to fupply my want:


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