He bears into the bath; whence want of breath,
Repletion, apoplex, inteftate death.
His fate makes table-talk, divulg'd with fcorn,
And he, a jeft, into his grave is borne.

No age can go beyond us; future times
Can add no farther to the prefent crimes.
Our fons but the fame things can wifh and do;
Vice is at ftand, and at the highest flow.

Then fatire fpread thy fails; take all the winds can blow.
Some may, perhaps, demand what Mufe can yield
Sufficient ftrength for fuch a fpacious field;
From whence can be deriv'd fo large a vein,
Bold truth to fpeak, and spoken to maintain ?
When god-like freedom is so far bereft
The noble mind, that scarce the name is left?
Ere fcandalum magnatum was begot,

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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 ftreets, and make a dreadful blaze by night.
Shall they who drench'd three uncles in a draught
Of pois'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 9 bold Turnus the great Trojan arm,
Amidst their strokes the poet gets no harm:

fee;

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9 Against bold Turnus, &c. A poet may fafely write an heroick poem, fuch as that of Virgil, who defcribes the duel of Turnus and neas; or of Homer who writes of Achilles and Hector; or the death of Hylas the Catamite of Hercules; who stooping for water, dropt his pitcher, and fell into the well after it, But it is dangerous to write fatire like Lucilius.

Achilles may in epic verse 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 fweat ftands in drops on ev'ry part;
And rage fucceeds to tears, revenge to fmart:
Mufe, be advis'd; 'tis paft confidering 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.

THE

THE

THIRD SATIRE.

O F

JUVEN A L.

THE ARGUMENT.

The ftory of this fatire fpeaks itself. Umbritius, the fuppofed friend of Juvenal, and himself a poet, is leaving Rome, and retiring to Cuma. Our author accompanies him out of town. Before they take leave of each other, Umbritius tells his friend the reafons which oblige him to lead a private life, in an obfcure place. He complains that an honest man cannot get his bread at Rome. That none but flatterers make their fortunes there: that Grecians and other foreigners raife themselves by thofe fordid arts which he defcribes, and against which he bitterly inveighs. He reckons up the feveral inconveniencies which arife from a city life; and the many dangers which attend it. Upbraids the noblemen with covetousness, for not rewarding good poets; and arraigns the government for ftarving them. The great art of this fatire is particularly Jhown in common places; and drawing in as many vices, as could naturally fall into the compass of it.

G

'Riev'd tho' I am an ancient friend to lose,
I like the folitary feat he chofe :

I

In quiet Cumæ fixing his repofe :

Where, far from noify Rome fecure he lives,

And one more citizen to Sybil gives.

1 Cumæ, a small city in Campania, near Puteoli, or Puzzolo, as

it is called. The habitation of the Cumaan Sybil.

The

The road to 2 Baja, and that foft recess

Which all the Gods with all their bounty bless,
Tho' I in 3 Prochyta with greater ease
Could live, than in a ftreet of palaces.
What scene so desert, or so full of fright,
As tow'ring houfes tumbling in the night,

And Rome on fire beheld by its own blazing light?
But worse than all the clatt'ring tiles; and worfe
Than thousand padders, is the poet's curfe.
Rogues that 4 in dog-days cannot rhime forbear:
But without mercy read, and make you hear.
Now while my friend, juft ready to depart,
Was packing all his goods in one poor cart;
He stopp'd a little at the Conduit-gate,
Where 5 Numa modell'd once the Roman ftate,
In mighty councils with his 6 nymph retir'd:
Tho' now the facred fhades and founts are hir'd
By banish'd Jews, who their whole wealth can lay
In a small basket, on a wifp of hay;

Yet fuch our av'rice is, that ev'ry tree

Pays for his head; nor fleep itself is free :
Nor place, nor perfons, now are facred held,
From their own grove the Mufes are expell'd.
Into this lonely vale our fteps we bend,
I and my fullen difcontented friend :

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The marble caves, and aquæducts we view ;
But how adult'rate now, and different from the true!

2 Baiæ; another little town in Campania, near the sea: a pleafant place.

3 Prochyta: A fmall barren island belonging to the kingdom of Naples.

4 In dog-days, The poets in Juvenal's time, used to rehearse their poetry in Auguft.

Numa. The fecond king of Rome; who made their laws and inftituted their religion.

6 Nymph Egeria, a nymph or goddess, with whom Numa feigned to converfe by night; and to be inftructed by her in modelling his fuperftitions.

How

How much more beauteous had the fountain been
Embellish'd with her firft created green,

Where chrystal ftreams thro' living turff had run,
Contented with an urn of native ftone !

Then thus Umbritius (with an angry frown, And looking back on this degen'rate town,) Since noble arts in Rome have no support, And ragged virtue not a friend at court, No profit rifes from th' ungrateful stage, My poverty encreafing with my age, 'Tis time to give my just disdain a vent, And, curfing, leave fo bafe a government. Where 7 Dedalus his borrow'd wings laid by, To that obfcure retreat I chufe to fly: While yet few furrows on my face are seen, While I walk upright, an old age is green, And 8 Lachefis has fomewhat left to spin. Now, now 'tis time to quit this curfed place, And hide from villains my too honeft face: Here let 9 Arturius live, and fuch as he; Such manners will with fuch a town agree. Knaves who in full affemblies have the knack Of turning truth to lies, and white to black; Can hire large houfes, and opprefs the poor By farm'd excife; can cleanse the common-fhoar; And rent the fishery; can bear the dead; And teach their eyes diffembled tears to shed, All this for gain; for gain they fell their very head. Thefe fellows (fee what fortune's power can do) Were once the minstrels of a country fhow: Follow'd the prizes thro' each paltry town, By trumpet-cheeks and bloated faces known.

7 Where Dedalus, &c. Meaning at Cumæ.

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8 Lachefis; one of the three deftinies, whofe office was to fpin the life of every man; as it was of Clotho to hold the diftaff, and Atropos to cut the thread.

9 Arturius. Any debauched wicked fellow who gains by the times.

But