The legacies of Tadius too are flown; Nor tell me, in a dying father's tone, Live on the use; and never dip thy lands: But yet what's left for me? What 's left, my friend! Ask that again, and all the reft I spend. Is not my fortunes at my own command? Pour oil, and pour it with a plenteous hand, With fodden nettles, and a fing'd sow's head? Truck wares for wares, and trudge from pole to pole: That men may fay, when thou art dead and gone, See what a vaft eftate he left his fon! How How large a family of brawny knaves, CON } TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS. Prologue to the First Satire Satire the First, in Dialogue betwixt the Poet and 308 310 END OF DRYDEN'S POEMS. |