Labour'd with different maladies,
His such a stomach, mine such eyes,
As would not bear strong exercise,
In drowsy mood to sleep resort;
Mæcenas to the tennis-court.
Next at Cocceius' farm we're treated,
Above the Caudian tavern seated;
His kind and hospitable board

With choice of wholesome food was stored.
Now, O ye Nine, inspire my lays!
To nobler themes my fancy raise!
Two combatants, who scorn to yield
The noisy, tongue-disputed field,
Sarmentus and Cicirrus, claim
A poet's tribute to their fame;
Cicirrus of true Oscian breed,
Sarmentus, who was never freed,
But ran away. We don't defame him;
His lady lives, and still may claim him.
Thus dignified, in harder fray

These champions their keen wit display,
And first Sarmentus led the way.

"Thy locks," quoth he, "so rough and coarse, Look like the mane of some wild horse."

We laugh; Cicirrus undismay'd

"Have at you!" cries, and shakes his head.
""Tis well," Sarmentus says, "you've lost
That horn your forehead once could boast;
Since, maim'd and mangled as you are,
You seem to butt." A hideous scar
Improved, 'tis true, with double grace
The native horrors of his face.
Well, after much jocosely said
Of his grim front, so fiery red
(For carbuncles had blotch'd it o'er
As usual on Campania's shore),

"Give us," he cried, "since you're so big,

A sample of the Cyclop's jig!

Your shanks methinks no buskins ask,
Nor does your phiz require a mask."
To this Cicirrus: "In return
Of you, sir, now I fain would learn,
When 'twas, no longer deem'd a slave,
Your chains you to the Lares gave?
For though a scrivener's right you claim,
Your lady's title is the same.

But what could make you run away,
Since, pigmy as you are, each day
A single pound of bread would quite

O'erpower your puny appetite?"

Thus joked the champions, while we laugh'd, And many a cheerful bumper quaff'd.

To Beneventum next we steer;

Where our good host by over care

In roasting thrushes lean as mice
Had almost fallen a sacrifice.
The kitchen soon was all on fire,
And to the roof the flames aspire;
There might you see each man and master
Striving, amidst this sad disaster,

To save the supper. Then they came
With speed enough to quench the flame.
From hence we first at distance see
The Apulian hills, well known to me,
Parch'd by the sultry western blast;
And which we never should have past,
Had not Trivicius by the way
Received us at the close of day.
But each was forced at entering here
To pay the tribute of a tear,

For more of smoke than fire was seen-
The hearth was piled with logs so green.
From hence in chaises we were carried
Miles twenty-four, and gladly tarried
At a small town, whose name my verse
(So barbarous is it) can't rehearse.
Know it you may by many a sign,
Water is dearer far than wine;
There bread is deem'd such dainty fare,
That every prudent traveller

His wallet loads with many a crust;
For at Canusium you might just
As well attempt to gnaw a stone
As think to get a morsel down:
That too with scanty streams is fed;
Its founder was brave Diomed.

Good Varius (ah, that friends must part!)
Here left us all with aching heart.

At Rubi we arrived that day,

Well jaded by the length of way,

And sure poor mortals ne'er were wetter:
Next day no weather could be better;
No roads so bad; we scarce could crawl
Along to fishy Barium's wall.

The Egnatians next, who by the rules
Of common sense are knaves or fools,
Made all our sides with laughter heave,
Since we with them must needs believe
That incense in their temples burns,
And without fire to ashes turns.
To circumcision's bigots tell
Such tales! for me, I know full well
That in high heaven, unmoved by care,
The gods eternal quiet share:
Nor can I deem their spleen the cause,
While fickle Nature breaks her laws.
Brundusium last we reach and there
Stop short the muse and traveller.

1759.

THE NINTH SATIRE OF THE FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.

DESCRIPTION OF AN IMPERTINENT. ADAPTED TO THE PRESENT TIMES, 1759

SAUNTERING along the street one day,

On trifles musing by the way

66

Up steps a free familiar wight
(I scarcely knew the man by sight.)
Carlos," he cried, " your hand, my dear;
I rejoice to meet you here!
Pray- I see you well?"
So, so;
E'en well enough, as times now go
The same good wishes, sir, to you."
Finding he still pursued me close-
"Sir, you have business I suppose."
'My business, sir, is quickly done,
'Tis but to make my merit known.
Sir, I have read"-" O learned sir,
You and your learning I revere."
Then sweating with anxiety,
And sadly longing to get free,
Gods, how I scampered, scuffled for't,
Ran, halted, ran again, stopp'd short,
Beckon'd my boy, and pull'd him near,
And whisper'd nothing in his ear.

Teased with his loose unjointed chat-
"What street is this? What house is that?"
O Harlow, how I envied thee

Thy unabashed effrontery,

Who darest a foe with freedom blame,

And call a coxcomb by his name!

When I returned him answer none,
Obligingly the fool ran on,

"I see you're dismally distress'd,
Would give the world to be released.
But by your leave, sir, I shall still
Stick to your skirts, do what you will.
Pray which way does your journey tend?"
"O, 'tis a tedious way, my friend;
Across the Thames, knows where,
I would not trouble you so far."
"Well, I'm at leisure to attend you."
"Are you?" thought I,
befriend you."
No ass with double panniers rack'd,
Oppress'd, o'erladen, broken-back'd,
E'er look'd a thousandth part so dull
As I, nor half so like a fool.
"Sir, I know little of myself
(Proceeds the pert conceited elf),
If Gray or Mason you will deem
Than me more worthy your esteem
Poems I write by folios

As fast as other men write prose;
Then I can sing so loud, so clear,

That Beard cannot with me compare.
In dancing too I all surpass,

Not Cooke can move with such a grace."
Here I made shift with much ado
To interpose a word or two.-

"Have you no parents, sir, no friends,
Whose welfare on your own depends?"
"Parents, relations, say you? No.
They're all disposed of long ago."
"Happy to be no more perplex'd!
My fate too threatens, I go next.
Despatch me, sir, 'tis now too late,
Alas! to struggle with my fate!
Well, I'm convinc'd my time is come-
When young, a gipsy told my doom.
The beldame shook her palsied head,
As she perused my palm, and said;
Of poison, pestilence, and war,
Gout, stone, defluxion, or catarrh,
You have no reason to beware.
Beware the coxcomb's idle prate;
Chiefly, my son, beware of that.
Be sure, when you behold him, fly,
Out of all earshot, or you die."

To Rufus' hall we now draw near
Where he was summon'd to appear,
Refute the charge the plaintiff brought,
Or suffer judgment by default.

"For Heaven's sake, if you love me, wait
One moment! I'll be with you straight."
Glad of a plausible pretence-
"Sir, I must beg you to dispense
With my attendance in the court.
My legs will surely suffer for't."

66

Nay, prithee, Carlos, stop awhile!" Faith, sir, in law I have no skill. Besides, I have no time to spare, I must be going you know where." "Well, I protest I'm doubtful now Whether to leave my suit or you!" "Me without scruple!" I reply, "Me by all means, sir!"-" No, not I. Allons, Monsieur!" "Twere vain, you know, To strive with a victorious foe. So I reluctantly obey,

And follow where he leads the way. "You and Newcastle are so close, Still hand and glove, sir-I suppose.' "Newcastle, let me tell you, sir, Has not his equal everywhere."

"Well. There indeed your fortune's made. Faith, sir, you understand your trade. Would you but give me your good word Just introduce me to my lord,

་

I should serve charmingly by way
Of second fiddle, as they say:

What think you sir? 'twere a good jest.
'Slife, we should quickly scout the rest."
"Sir, you mistake the matter far,
We have no second fiddles there-
Richer than I some folks may be;
More learned, but it hurts not me.
Friends though he has of different kind,
Each has his proper place assign'd."
"Strange matters these alleged by you!"
Strange they may be, but they are true."
"Well then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever,
Now I long ten times more than ever
To be advanced extremely near
One of his shining character.

Have but the will-there wants no more,

'Tis plain enough you have the power.
His easy temper (that's the worst)
He knows, and is so shy at first."
"But such a cavalier as you-

-, sir, you'll quickly bring him to!"
"Well; If I fail in my design,
Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the saucy servile tribe

Denied, what think you of a bribe?
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow;
Never attempt to visit him
But at the most convenient time;
Attend him on each levee day,
And there my humble duty pay-
Labour, like this, our want supplies;
And they must stoop who mean to rise."
While thus he wittingly harangued,
For which you'll guess I wish'd him hang'd,
Campley, a friend of mine, came by-
Who knew his humour more than I ;
We stop, salute, and-" Why so fast,
Friend Carlos! Whither all this haste?"
Fired at the thought of a reprieve,

I pinch him, pull him, twitch his sleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout,
Do everything but speak plain out:
While he, sad dog, from the beginning
Determined to mistake my meaning,
Instead of pitying my curse,

By jeering made it ten times worse.

66

Campley, what secret (pray!) was that
You wanted to communicate?"

"I recollect. But 'tis no matter.
Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter.
E'en let the secret rest. "Twill tell
Another time, sir, just as well."