Once a poor Rogue, 'tis true, I trod the Street,
And trudg'd to Rome upon my naked Feet:
Gold is the greatest God; though yet we fee
No Temples rais'd to Money's Majefty,
No Altars fuming to her Pow'r Divine,
Such as to Valour, Peace and Virtue shine,
And Faith, and Concord: 23 where the Stork on high
Seems to falute her Infant Progeny :
Prefaging pious Love with her auspicious Cry.
But fince our Knights and Senators account,
To what their fordid begging Vails amount,
Judge what a wretched fhare the Poor attends,
Whose whole Subfiftence on thofe Alms depends!
Their Houfhold-Fire, their Rayment, and their Food,
Prevented 24 by those Harpies; when a Wood
Of Litters thick befiege the Donor's Gate,
And begging Lords and teeming Ladies wait
The promis'd Dole: Nay, fome have learn'd the Trick
To beg for absent Perfons; feign them fick,
Clofe mew'd in their Sedans, for fear of Air:
And for their Wives produce an empty Chair.
This is my Spoufe: Difpatch her with her Share.
'Tis 25 Galla: Let her Lady fhip but peep:
No, Sir, 'tis pity to disturb her Sleep.
23 where the Stork on bigh, &c. Perhaps the Storks were us'd to build on the top of the Temple dedicated to Concord.
24 Prevented by thoje Harpies: He calls the Roman Knights, &c. Harpies, or Devourers: In thofe Days the Rich made Doles intended for the poor : But the Great were either fo Covetous, or fo Needy, that they came in their Litters to
demand their fhares of the Largefs; and thereby prevented, and confequently starv'd the Poor.
25 'Tis Galla, &c. The meaning is, that Noblemen would cause empty Litters to be carried to the Giver's Door, pretending their Wives were within them: 'Tis Galla, that is, my Wife: the next Words, Let ber Ladyfhip but peep, are
Such fine Employments our whole Days divide:
The Salutations of the Morning tide
Call up the Sun; thofe ended, to the Hall
We wait the Patron, hear the Lawyers baul ;
Then 26 to the Statues; where amidft the Race
Of Conqu❜ring Rome, fome Arab fhews his Face,
Infcrib'd with Titles, and profanes the Place;
Fit to be piss'd against, and somewhat more.
The great Man, home conducted, shuts his Door;
Old Clients, weary'd out with fruitless Care,
Dismiss their hopes of eating, and despair.
Though much against the Grain forc'd to retire,
Buy Roots for Supper, and provide a Fire.
Mean time his Lordship lolls within at Ease,
Pamp'ring his Paunch with Foreign Rarities;
Both Sea and Land are ranfack'd for the Feast ;
And his own Gut the fole invited Gueft.
Such Plate, fuch Tables, Dishes drest so well,
That whole Eftates are fwallow'd at a Meal.
Ev'n Parafites are banish'd from his Board:
(At once a fordid and luxurious Lord:)
Prodigious Throat, for which whole Boars are dreft;
(A Creature form'd to furnish out a Feast.)
But prefent Punishment pursues his Maw,
When furfeited and fwell'd, the Peacock raw
of the Servants who diftributes the Dole; Let me fee her, that I may be fure she is within the Litter. The Husband answers, fhe is afleep, and to open the Litter would disturb her Rest.
26 Then to the Statues, &c. The Poet here tells you how the Idle pafs'd their time; in going first to the Levees of the Great, then to the Hall, that is to the Temple of Apollo,
to hear the Lawyers Plead, then to the Market-place of Auguftus, where the Statues of the famous Romans were fet in Ranks on Pedestals: Amongst which Statues were feen those of Foreigners, fuch as Arabs, &c. who for no Defert, but only on the account of their Wealth, or Favour, were placed amongst the Nobleft.
He bears into the Bath; whence want of Breath,
Repletions, Apoplex, inteftate Death.
His Fate makes Table-talk, divulg'd with Scorn,
And he, a Jest, into his Grave is born.
No Age can go beyond us; Future Times
Can add no farther to the present Crimes.
Our Sons but the fame things can wish and do;
Vice is at ftand, and at the highest flow.
Then Satyr fpread thy Sails; take all the Winds can blow.
Some may, prehaps, demand what Mufe can yield
Sufficient Strength for fuch a spacious Field?
From whence can be deriv'd fo large a Vein,
Bold Truth to speak, and spoken to maintain?
When God-like Freedom is so far bereft
The Noble Mind, that fcarce the Name is left ?
Ere Scandalum Magnatum was begot,
No matter if the Great forgave or not:
But if that honeft Licence now you take,
If into Rogues Omnipotent you rake,
Death is your Doom. impail'd upon a Stake;
Smear'd o'er with Wax, and set on fire, to light
The Streets, and make a dreadful Blaze by Night.
Shall they who drench'd three Uncles in a draught
Of Poys'nous Juice be then in Triumph brought,
Make Lanes among the People where they go,
And, mounted high on downy Chariots, throw
Difdainful Glances on the Crowd below?
Be filent, and beware, if fuch you
'Tis Defamation but to fay, That's He!
Against 27 bold Turnus the Great Trojan Arm,
Amidst their strokes the Poet gets no Harm :
27 Against bold Turnus, &c. A Poet may fafely write an Heroick Poem, such as that of
Virgil, who defcribes the Duel of Turnus and Æneas; or of Homer who writes of Achilles
Achilles may in Epique Verfe be flain,
And none of all his Myrmidons complain:
Hylas may drop his Pitcher, none will cry;
Not if he drown himself for Company:
But when Lucilius brandishes his Pen,
And flashes in the Face of Guilty Men,
A cold Sweat ftands in drops on ev'ry part;
And Rage fucceeds to Tears, Revenge to Smart:
Mufe, be advis'd; 'tis paft confid'ring time,
When enter'd once the dang'rous Lifts of Rhime:
Since none the Living-Villains dare implead,
Arraign them in the Perfons of the Dead.
and Hector; or the Death of | Well after it. But 'tis dange
Hylas the Catamite of Hercules:
who stooping for Water, dropt his Pitcher, and fell into the
rous to write Satire like Lu
The ARGUMENT.
The Poet, in this Satyr, inveighs against the Hypocrifie of the Philofophers, and Priests of his Time; the Effeminacy of Military Officers, and Magiftrates. Which Corruption of Manners in general, and more particularly of unnatural Vices, be imputes to the Atheftical Principles that then prevail'd.
'm fick of Rome, and wifh my felf convey'd
When Hypocrites read Lectures, and a Sot,
Because into a Gown and Pulpit got,
The' furfeit-gorg'd, and reeking from the Stews,
Nothing but Abftinence for's Theme will chufe.
The Rakehells too pretend to Learning-----Why?
Chryfippus, Statue decks their Library.
Who makes his Clofet finest is most Read;
The Dolt that with an Ariftotle's Head,
Cary'd to the Life, as once adorn'd his. Shelf,
Streight fets up for a Stagyrite himself.
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