Ill health fome just indulgence may engage, 90 32 Our fathers prais'd rank Ven'fon. You fuppofe Perhaps, young men! our fathers had no nose. Not fo: a Buck was then a weeck's repaft, And 'twas their point, I ween, to make it laft; More pleas'd to keep it till their friends could come, 9, Than eat the fweeteft by themselves at home. 33 Why had not I in thofe good times my birth, Ere coxcomb-pyes or coxcombs were on earth? Unworthy he, the voice of Fame to hear, #34 That fweeteft mufic to an honeft ear; (For 'faith, Lord Fanny! you are in the wrong, "The worlds good word is better than a song) #Who has not learn'd, 35 fresh fturgeon and ham-pye #Are no rewards for want, and infamy! "When Luxury has lick'd upon all thy pelf, 105. Curs'd by thy 36 neighbours, thy trustees, thyself, To friends, to fortune, to mankind a fhaine, Think how pofterity will treat thy name; "And 37 buy a rope, that future times may tell Thou haft at leaft beftow'd one penny well. 110 38"Right, cries his Lordship, for a rogue in need "To have a Tafte is infolence indeed : "In me 'tis noble, fuits my birth and ftare, "My wealth unwieldy, and my heap too great." Then, like the Sun, let 39 Bounty fpread her ray, 115 And shine that fuperfluity away. Cur eget indignus quifquam, te divite? quare 4° Templa ruunt antiqua Deûm? cur, improbe, carae Non aliquid patriae tanto emetiris acervo? Uni nimirum tibi recte femper erunt res? 43 Quo magis his credas: puer hunc ego parvus Ofellum Integris opibus novi non latius ufum, NOTES. VER. 117, 118. Oh Impudence of wealth! with all thy flora, How dar'st thou let one worthy man be poor? ) . Cur eget indignus quifquam, te divite? is here admirably paraphrased. And it is obfervable in these Imitations, that where our Poet keeps to the fentiments of Horace, he rather piques himself in excelling the most finished touches of his Original, than in correcting or improving the more inferior parts. Of this elegance of ambition all his Writings bear fuch marks, that it gave countenance to an invidious impu. tation, as if his chief talent lay in copying finely. But if ever there was an inventive genius in Poetry it was Pope's. But his fancy was fo corrected by his judgment, and his imitation 'fo fpirited by his genius, that what he improved truck the vulgar eye more strongly than what he invented. VER. 122. As No1**o's was, &c.) I think this ligh: ftroke of fatire ill placed; and hurts the dignity of the preceding morality. liorace was very ferious, and properly fo, when he said, Oh impudence of wealth! with all thy ftore, How dar'ft thou let one worthy man be poor? As M**o's was, but not at five per cent.. 125 44 Who thinks that Fortune cannot change her mind, Prepares a dreadful jeft for all mankind. And 4 who ftands fafeft? tell me, is it he That spreads and fwells in puff'd Prosperity, Or bleft with little, whofe preventing care In peace provides fit arms against a war? 43 Thus BETHEL spoke, who always speaks his thought, And as I love, would imitate the Man. NOTES. cur, Improbe ! caræ Non aliquid patriæ tanto emetiris acervo. 130 He remembered, and hints with juft indignation, at thofe luxurious Patricians of his old party; who, when they had agreed to establish a fund in the cause of Freedom, under the conduc of Brutus, could never be perfuaded to withdraw from their expenfive pleasures what was fufficient for the fupport of fo great a caufe. He had prepared his apology for this liberty, in the preceding line, where he pays a fine compliment to Auguftus: quare Templa ruint antiqua Deum? which oblique Panegyric the Imitator has very properly turned into a iuft ftroke of fatire. VER. 133. In South-fea days not happier, e) Mr. Pope had South-fea ftock, which he did not fell out. It was valued at between twenty and thirty thousand pounds when it fell. Quám nunc 44 accifis. Videas, metato in agello, Cum pecore et gnatis, fortem mercede colonum, Vicinus; bene erat, non pifcibus urbe petitis, Poft hoc ludus erat 48 cuppa porare magistra: Ac venerata Ceres, ita culnio furgeret alto, Explicuit vino contractae feria frontis. Saeviat atque novos moveat Fortuna tumultus! Quantum hinc imminuet? quanto aut ego parcius, aut vos, O pueri, nituiftis, ut huc 49 novus incola venit? NOTES. VER. 150. And, what's more rare, a Poet Jhall Jay Grace.) The pleafantry of this line confifts in the fuppofed rarity of a Poet's having a table of his own; or a fenfe of gratitude for the The Lord of Thousands, than if now 44 Excis'd; 135 Than in five acres now of rented land. Content with little I can piddle here 149 On 43 brocoli and mutton, round the year; Then 49 chearful healths (your Mistress fhall have place) And yours, my friends? thro' whofe free-op'ning gate bleffings he receives NOTES. But it contains, too, a fober reproof of People of Condition, for their unmanly and brutal difufe of fo |