monly finned against right reafon, and offended in their requests. The third part confifts in fhewing the repugnances of thofe prayers and wishes, to those of other men, and inconfiftencies with themfelves. He fhews the original of these vows, and fharply inveighs against them: and laftly, not only corrects the falle opinion of mankind concerning them, but gives the true doctrine of all addrefes made to heaven, and how they may be made acceptable to the Powers above, in excellent precepts, and more worthy of a Chriftian than a Heathen.
Dedicated to his friend PLOTIUS MACRINUS, on his birth-day.
ET this aufpicious morning be exprest
With a white stone, distinguish'd from the rest: White as thy fame, and as thy honour clear; And let new joys attend on thy new added year. Indulge thy genius, and o'erflow thy foul, Till thy wit sparkle, like the chearful bowl. Pray; for thy pray'rs the test of heav'n will bear; Nor need'ft thou take the Gods afide, to hear:
While others, ev'n the mighty men of Rome,
Big fwell'd with mischief, to the temples come;
And in low murmurs, and with coftly fmoke,
Heav'n's help, to profper their black vows invoke.
So boldly to the Gods mankind reveal
What from each other they, for shame, conceal.
Give me good fame, ye Pow'rs, and make me just :
Thus much the rogue to public ears will truft:
In private then :-When wilt thou, mighty Jove,
My wealthy uncle from this world remove?
Or-O thou Thund'rer's fon, great Hercules,
That once thy bounteous Deity would please
To guide my rake, upon the chinking found
Of some vaft treasure, hidden under ground!
O were my pupil fairly knock'd o' th' head;
I should poffefs th' eftate, if he were dead!
He's fo far gone with rickets, and with th' evil,
That one fmall dofe will fend him to the devil.
This is my neighbour Nerius his third fpoufe, Of whom in happy time he rids his houfe. But eternal wife!--Grant heav'n I may my
Survive to see the fellow of this day!
Thus, that thou mayft the better bring about
Thy wishes, thou art wickedly devout:
In Tyber ducking thrice, by break of day,
To wash th' obfcenities of night away.
But pr'ythee tell me, ('tis a small request)
With what ill thoughts of Jove art thou poffeft?
Wouldst thou prefer him to fome man? Suppose
I dipp'd among the worst, and Staius chofe?
Which of the two would thy wife head declare
The trustier tutor to an orphan heir?
Or, put it thus:---Unfold to Staius, ftreight,
What to Jove's ear thou didst impart of late:
He'll ftare, and, O good Jupiter! will cry;
Can't thou indulge him in this villainy!
And think'ft thou, Jove himself, with patience
Can hear a pray'r condemn'd by wicked men?
That, void of care, he lolls fupine in state,
And leaves his bus'ness to be done by fate?
Because his thunder fplits fome burley tree,
And is not darted at thy house and thee?
Or that his vengeance falls not at the time,
Juft at the perpetration of thy crime:
And makes thee a fad object of our eyes,
Fit for Ergenna's pray'r and facrifice?
What well-fed off'ring to appease the God,
What pow'rful prefent to procure a nod,
Haft thou in ftore? What bribe haft thou prepar'd,
To pull him, thus unpunish'd, by the beard?
Our fuperftitions with our life begin:
Th' obfcene old grandam, or the next of kin,
The new-born infant from the cradle takes,
And first of spittle a lustration makes:
Then in the spawl her middle-finger dips,
Anoints the temples, forehead, and the lips,
Pretending force of magick to prevent,
By virtue of her nafty excrement.
Then dandles him with many a mutter'd pray'r
That heav'n would make him fome rich mifer's
Lucky to ladies, and, in time, a king;
Which to enfure, fhe adds a length of navel-ftring.
But no fond nurse is fit to make a pray'r:
And Jove, if Jove be wife, will never hear;
Not tho fhe prays in white, with lifted hands:
A body made of brafs the crone demands
For her lov'd nurfling, ftrung with nerves of wire,
Tough to the last, and with no toil to tire:
Unconscionable vows, which when we use,
We teach the Gods, in reafon, to refuse.
Suppose they were indulgent to thy wish;
Yet the fat intrails in the fpacious dish,
Would stop the grant: the very over-care
And naufeous pomp, would hinder half the pray'r.
Thou hop'ft with facrifice of oxen flain
To compass wealth, and bribe the God of gain,
To give thee flocks and herds, with large increase;
Fool! to expect them from a bullock's greafe!
And think'st that when the fatten'd flames afpire,
Thou fee'ft th' accomplishment of thy defire!
Now, now, my bearded harvest gilds the plain,
The scanty folds can scarce my sheep contain,
And showers of gold come pouring in amain!
Thus dreams the wretch, and vainly thus dreams
Till his lank purse declares his money gone.
Should I prefent them with rare figur'd plate,
Or gold as rich in workmanship as weight;
O how thy rifing heart would throb and beat,
And thy left fide, with trembling pleasure, fweat!
Thou measur'st by thyfelf the Pow'rs Divine;
Thy Gods are burnish'd, gold and filver is their
fhrine.
Thy puny Godlings of inferior race,
Whofe humble ftatues are content with brass,
Should fome of thefe, in vifions purg'd from
Foretel events, or in a morning dream;
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