Achilles may in epic verse be slain,
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 stands in drops on every part; And rage succeeds to tears, revenge to smart: Muse, be advised; 'tis past considering time, When enter'd once the dangerous lists of rhyme : Since none the living villains dare implead Arraign them in the persons of the dead.

JUVENAL.

SATIRE II.

BY MR. TATE.

The Argument.

The poet, in this Satire, inveighs against the hypocrisy of the philosophers and priests of his time; the effeminacy of military officers and magistrates; which corruption of manners in general, and more particularly of unnatural vices, he impates to the atheistical principles that then prevailed.

I'm sick of Rome, and wish myself convey' Where freezing seas obstruct the merchant's trade; When hypocrites read lectures, and a sot, Because into a gown and pulpit got,

Though surfeit-gorged, and reeking from the stews, Nothing but abstinence for his theme will choose. The rakehells too pretend to learning-Why? Chrysippus' statue decks their library.

Who makes his closet finest is most read: The dolt that with an Aristotle's head, Carved to the life, has once adorn'd his shelf, Straight sets up for a Stagyrite himself. Precise their look; but to the brothel come, You'll know the price of philosophic bum.

You'd swear, if you their bristled hides survey'd, That for a bear's caresses they are made; 'Yet of their obscene part they take such care, That (like baboons) they still keep Podex bare; To see 't so sleek and trimm'd the surgeon smiles, And scarcely can, for laughing, lance the piles. Since silence seems to carry wisdom's power, The' affected rogues, like clocks, speak once an hour.

Those grizzled locks which Nature did provide,
In plenteous growth, their asses' ears to hide,
The formal slaves reduce to a degree

Short of their eyebrows-Now I honour thee,
Thee, Peribonius, thou profess'd he-whore,
And all thy crimes impute to Nature's score:
Thou, as in harlot's dress thou art attired,
For aught I know, with harlot's itch art fired;
Thy form seems for the Pathic trade design'd,
And generously thou dost own thy kind.
But what of those lewd miscreants must become,
Who preach morality, and shake the bum?

Varillus cries, shall I fear Sextus' doom,
Whose haunches are the common sink of Rome?
Let him cry blackmoor-devil, whose skin is white;
And bandy legs, who treads himself upright;
Let him reprove that's innocent-In vain
The Gracchi of sedition must complain.
'Twould make you swear the planets from their
spheres,

Should Verres peach thieves, Milo murderers, Clodius tax bawds, Cethegus Catiline,

I

Or Scylla's pupils Scylla's rules decline.

1 Supposed by some to be Cæsar, Pompey, and Crassus; bat by others (more probably) Augustus, Anthony, and Lepidus.

Yet we have seen a modern magistrate

Restore those rigid laws that did create
In Mars and Venus dread, himself the while,
With impious drugs and potions, did beguile
The teeming Julia's womb, and thence did wrest
Crude births, that yet the' incestuous sire con-
fess'd.

How shall such hypocrites reform the state,
On whom the brothels can recriminate?

Of this we have an instance great and new
In a cock zealot of this preaching crew,
Whose late harangue the gaping rabble drew.
His theme, as fate would have't, was fornication,
And as, i'the' fury of his declamation,

He cried Why sleeps the Julian law, that awed
This vice;'-Laronia, an industrious bawd

(As bawds will run to lectures), nettled much
To have her copyhold so nearly touch'd,
With a disdainful smile, replied, Bless'd times,
That made thee censor of the age's crimes!
Rome now must needs reform, and vice be stopp'd,
Since a third Cato from the clouds is dropp'd.
But tell me, sir, what perfume strikes the air
From your most reverend neck o'ergrown with
For modestly we may presume, I trow, [hair?
"Tis not your natural grain-The price I'd know,
And where 'tis sold; direct me to the street,
And shop, for I with no such essence meet.
Let me entreat you, sir, for your own sake,`
Use caution, and permit the laws to take
A harmless nap, lest the Scantinian wake.

2 The Lex Julia against adultery.

3 Viz. deformed, and so resembling Domitian.

The law so called, from Scantinius, against whom it was put in execution.

Our wise forefathers took their measures right,
Nor wreak'd on fornicators all their spite,
But left a limbo for the sodomite.

If

you
commission-courts must needs erect
For manners, put the test to your own sect.
But you by number think yourselves secure,
While our thin squadron must the brunt endure.
With grief I must confess our muster's few,
And much with civil broils impair'd, while you
Are to the devil and to each other true.
Your penal laws against us are enlarged,
On whom no crimes, like what you act, are charged.
Flavia may now and then turn up for bread,
But chastely with Catulla lies abed.

Your Hispo acts both sexes' parts; before
A fornicator, and behind a whore:

We ne'er invade your walks; the client's cause
We leave to your confounding, and the laws.
If now and then an Amazonian dame
Dares fight a public prize, 'tis sure less shame
Than to behold your unnerved sex set in
To needle-work, and like a damsel spin.
How Hister's bondman his sole heir became,
And his conniving spouse so rich a dame,
Is known; that wife with wealth must needs be
Who is content to make a third in bed. [sped,
You nymphs, that would to coach and six arrive,
Marry, keep counsel, and ye are sure to thrive !
Yet these obnoxious men, without remorse,
Against our tribe will put the laws in force,
Clip the dove's wing, and give the vulture course.'
Thus spoke the matron :-The convicted crew
From so direct a charge, like lightning flew.
It must be so.-Nor, vain Metellus, shall
From Rome's tribunal thy harangues prevail