Here I enjoy my private thoughts; nor care
What rots for sheep the fouthern winds prepare:
Survey the neighb'ring fields, and not repine,
When I behold a larger crop than mine:
To fee a beggar's brat in riches flow,
Adds not a wrinkle to my even brow;
Nor, envious at the fight, will I forbear
My plenteous bowl, nor bate my bounteous cheer.
Nor yet unfeal the dregs of wine that stink
Of cafk; nor in a nafty flaggon drink;

Let others ftuff their guts with homely fare;
For men of diff'rent inclinations are;
Tho born perhaps beneath one common star.
In minds and manners twins oppos'd we fee
In the fame fign, almoft the fame degree:
One, frugal, on his birth-day fears to dine;
Does at a penny's coft in herbs repine,
And hardly dares to dip his fingers in the brine.
Prepar'd as prieft of his own rites to stand,
He sprinkles pepper with a sparing hand.
His jolly brother, oppofite in sense,
Laughs at his thrift; and lavish of
Quaffs, crams, and guttles, in his own defence.
For me, I'll ufe my own; and take my fhare;
Yet will not turbots for my flaves prepare;

expence,

}

Nor be so nice in taste myself to know
If what I fwallow be a thrush, or no.

Live on thy annual income; spend thy store;
And freely grind, from thy full threshing-floor;
Next harvest promifes as much, or more.
Thus I would live: but friendship's holy band,
And offices of kindness hold my hand:

My friend is shipwreck'd on the Brutian strand,
His riches in th' Ionian main are loft;

And he himself ftands fhiv'ring on the coaft;
Where, deftitute of help, forlorn and bare,
He wearies the deaf Gods with fruitless pray'r.
Their images, the relicks of the wrack,
Torn from the naked poop, are tided back
By the wild waves, and rudely thrown ashore,
Lie impotent; nor can themfelves restore.
The veffel sticks, and fhews her open'd fide,
And on her shatter'd maft the mews in triumphride.
From thy new hope, and from thy growing store,
Now lend affiftance, and relieve the poor.
Come; do a noble act of charity;

A pittance of thy land will fet him free.
Let him not bear the badges of a wreck,
Nor beg with a blue table on his back:
Nor tell me that thy frowning heir will fay,
'Tis mine that wealth thou fquander'ft thus away;

What is't to thee, if he neglect thy urn,
Or without fpices lets thy body burn?
If odours to thy ashes he refuse,
Or buys corrupted caffia from the Jews?
All these, the wifer Beftius will reply,
Are empty pomp, and dead-men's luxury:
We never knew this vain expence, before
Th' effeminated Grecians brought it o'er :
Now toys and trifles from their Athens come;
And dates and pepper have unfinew'd Rome.
Our sweating hinds their fallads, now, defile,
Infecting homely herbs with fragrant oil.
But, to thy fortune be not thou a flave:
For what haft thou to fear beyond the grave?
And thou who gap'ft for my eftate, draw near;
For I would whisper fomewhat in thy ear.
Hear'st thou the news, my friend? th' express is

come

With laurell❜d letters from the camp to Rome:
Cæfar falutes the queen and fenate thus:
My arms are on the Rhine victorious.
From mourning altars fweep the duft away:
Ceafe fafting, and proclaim a fat thanksgiving day.
The goodly emprefs, jollily inclin'd,

Is to the welcome bearer wond'rous kind:

And, fetting her good housewifry aside,
Prepares for all the pageantry of pride.
The captive Germans, of gigantic fize,
Are rank'd in order, and are clad in frize:
The fpoils of kings, and conquer'd camps we boaft,
Their arms in trophies hang on the triumphal poft.
Now, for fo many glorious actions done

In foreign parts, and mighty battles won:
For peace at home, and for the public wealth,
I mean to crown a bowl to Cæfar's health:
Befides, in gratitude for fuch high matters,
Know I have vow'd two hundred gladiators.
Say, wouldst thou hinder me from this expence?
I difinherit thee, if thou dar'ft take offence.
Yet more, a public largefs I defign

Of oil and pies, to make the people dine:
Controul me not, for fear I change my will.
And yet methinks I hear thee grumbling ftill,
You give as if you were the Perfian king:
Your land does no fo large revenues bring.
Well; on my terms thou wilt not be my heir?
If thou car'ft little, lefs fhall be my care:
Were none of all my father's fifters left;
Nay, were I of my mother's kin bereft :
None by an uncle's or a grandame's fide,
Yet I could fome adopted heir provide.

I need but take my journey half a day

From haughty Rome, and at Aricia ftay,
Where fortune throws poor Manius in my way.
Him will I choofe: What him, of humble birth,
Obfcure, a foundling, and a fon of earth?
Obfcure? Why pr'ythee what am I? I know
My father, grandfire, and great-grandfire too:
If farther 1 derive my pedigree,

I can but guefs beyond the fourth degree.
The rest of my forgotten ancestors,

Were fons of earth, like him, or fons of whores. Yet why wouldst thou, old covetous wretch, af ire

To be my heir, who might'ft have been my fire?
In nature's race, fhouldft thou demand of me
My torch, when I in course run after thee?
Think I approach thee, like the God of gain,
With wings on head and heels, as poets feign:
Thy mod'rate fortune from my gift receive;
Now fairly take it, or as fairly leave.
But take it as it is, and afk no more.

What, when thou hast embezzel'd all thy store?
Where's all thy father left? 'Tis true, I grant,
Some I have mortgag'd, to fupply my want: