Befriend me, my good stars, and all goes right : 5
One happy hour is to a soldier better,
Than mother Juno's recommending letter,
Or Venus, when to Mars she would prefer
My suit, and own the kindness done to her.
See what our common privileges are:
As, first, no saucy citizen shall dare

10

To strike a soldier, nor, when struck, resent
The wrong, for fear of farther punishment:
Not though his teeth are beaten out, his eyes
Hang by a string, in bumps his forehead rise, 15
Shall he presume to mention his disgrace,
Or beg amends for his demolish'd face.
A booted judge shall sit to try his cause,
Not by the statute, but by martial laws;
Which old Camillus order'd, to confine
The brawls of soldiers to the trench and line:
A wise provision; and from thence 'tis clear,
That officers a soldier's cause should hear:
And taking cognizance of wrongs receiv'd,
An honest man may hope to be reliev'd.
So far 'tis well: but with a gen'ral cry,

The regiment will rise in mutiny,

25

7 Juno was mother to Mars the god of war: Venus was his mistress.

20 Camillus (who being first banished by his ungrateful countrymen the Romans, afterwards returned, and freed them from the Gauls,) made a law, which prohibited the soldiers from quarrelling without the camp, lest upon that pretence they might happen to be absent when they ought to be on duty.

30

The freedom of their fellow-rogue demand,
And, if refus'd, will threaten to disband.
Withdraw thy action, and depart in peace;
The remedy is worse than the disease:
This cause is worthy him, who in the hall
Would for his fee, and for his client, bawl:
But wouldst thou, friend, who hast two legs alone,
(Which, heav'n be prais'd, thou yet mayst call thy

own)

Wouldst thou to run the gauntlet these expose
To a whole company of hob-nail'd shoes?
Sure the good-breeding of wise citizens

35

Should teach 'em more good-nature to their shins. Besides, whom canst thou think so much thy

friend,

40

Who dares appear thy business to defend?
Dry up thy tears, and pocket up th' abuse,
Nor put thy friend to make a bad excuse :
The judge cries out, Your evidence produce.
Will he, who saw the soldier's mutton-fist,
And saw thee maul'd, appear within the list,
To witness truth? When I see one so brave,
The dead, think I, are risen from the
grave;
And with their long spade beards, and matted hair,

45

32 This cause is worthy him, &c.] The poet names a Modenese lawyer, whom he calls Vagellius; who was so impudent that he would plead any cause, right or wrong,

without shame or fear.

37 hob-nail'd shoes] The Roman soldiers wore plates of iron under their shoes, or stuck them with nails, as country. men do now.

Our honest ancestors are come to take the air. 50
Against a clown, with more security,

A witness may be brought to swear a lie,
Than, though his evidence be full and fair,
To vouch a truth against a man of war.

More benefits remain, and claim'd as rights, 55
Which are a standing army's perquisites.
If any rogue vexatious suits advance
Against me for my known inheritance,
Enter by violence my fruitful grounds,

Or take the sacred landmark from my bounds, Those bounds which, with procession and with pray'r,

65

And offer'd cakes, have been my annual care:
Or if my debtors do not keep their day,
Deny their hands, and then refuse to pay;
I must with patience all the terms attend,
Among the common causes that depend,
Till mine is call'd; and that long look'd-for day
Is still encumber'd with some new delay:
Perhaps the cloth of state is only spread,
Some of the quorum may be sick a-bed;
That judge is hot, and doffs his gown, while this
O'er night was bousy, and goes out to piss:

70

62 Landmarks were used by the Romans, almost in the same manner as now; and as we go once a year in procession, about the bounds of parishes, and renew them, so they offered cakes upon the stone or landmark.

69 The Courts of Judicature were hung and spread, as with us; but spread only before the hundred judges were to sit and judge public causes, which were called by lot.

So many rubs appear,

the time is gone

For hearing, and the tedious suit goes on:
But buff and beltmen never know these cares,

No time, no trick of law, their action bars:
Their cause they to an easier issue put:
They will be heard, or they lug out, and cut.
Another branch of their revenue still
Remains, beyond their boundless right to kill, 80
Their father yet alive, impower'd to make a will.
For, what their prowess gain'd, the law declares,
Is to themselves alone, and to their heirs :
No share of that goes back to the begetter,
But if the son fights well, and plunders better,
Like stout Coranus, his old shaking sire
Does a remembrance in his will desire:
Inquisitive of fights, and longs in vain
To find him in the number of the slain :
But still he lives, and, rising by the war,
Enjoys his gains, and has enough to spare:
For 'tis a noble general's prudent part

To cherish valour, and reward desert:

90

Let him be daub'd with lace, live high, and whore; Sometimes be lousy, but be never poor.

95

81 The Roman soldiers had the privilege of making a will, in their father's life-time, of what they had purchased in the wars, as being no part of their patrimony. By this will they had power of excluding their own parents, and giving the estate so gotten to whom they pleased. Therefore, says the poet, Coranus (a soldier contemporary with Juvenal, who had raised his fortune by the wars) was courted by his own father, to make him his heir.

TRANSLATIONS FROM PERSIUS.

THE FIRST SATIRE OF PERSIUS.

ARGUMENT OF THE PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST SATIRE.

THE design of the author was to conceal his name and quality. He lived in the dangerous times of the tyrant Nero; and aims particularly at him in most of his satires. For which reason, though he was a Roman knight, and of a plentiful fortune, he would appear in this prologue but a beggarly poet, who writes for bread. After this, he breaks into the business of the first satire; which is chiefly to decry the poetry then in fashion, and the impudence of those who were endeavouring to pass their stuff upon the world.

PROLOGUE TO THE FIRST SATIRE.

5

I NEVER did on cleft Parnassus dream,
Nor taste the sacred Heliconian stream;
Nor can remember when my brain inspir'd,
Was, by the Muses, into madness fir'd.
My share in pale Pyrene I resign;
And claim no part in all the mighty Nine.
Statues, with winding ivy crown'd, belong
To nobler poets, for a nobler song:
Heedless of verse, and hopeless of the crown,
Scarce half a wit, and more than half a clown, 10
Before the shrine I lay my rugged numbers down.