You'll find, for laughter fitly bred, An hog by Epicurus fed *.

Francis.

Monf. Dacier + obferves, that this epiftle is all ironical; for Tibullus, according to him, having exhausted his fortune by extravagance, had now retired to the country, to recruit his finances, and avoid the importunity of his creditors.

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extravagant courses, by fetting before his eyes the infamy and miferable life of Albius, Nenne vides Albi ut male vivat filius?

the French editor of Horace is not the first au

thor who maintained this extraordinary opinion. An old grammariant, whofe comment on Ho race, Cafpar Barthius owns he perufed, but to whom Dacier was willing to fink his obligations, though he alfo must have feen him, has out-done the French critic in what he writes of Tibullus. "Fuit hic Albius" (fays this uncommon genius) "eques Romanus, qui primus in amatorio earmine habetur: eum per ironiam irridet Horatius, quafi rem bene gefferit, cum in juventa omnia prodegerit, et poftea verfibus victum quæfiverit. Ergo ubi eum laudat, fe innuit Horatius; ubi vituperat fe, & Epicurum nominat, Albium intelligit, quem ridendum ait quod prodegerit omnia, jam nihil habens, quo, ut folebat, cutem curare poffet: quod vero ait

Di tibi divitias dederint, &c.

manifefta ironia eft, nam Epicuri non credentes deos habere curam rerum humanarum, omnia prodigunt; quod poftquam factum eft omnibus funt ridiculi.'

Whence this "femi-prifcus Grammaticus" (for fo Brockhufius calls him) drew thefe particulars relating to our poet, is not known: but that Dacier fhould adopt them, is matter of wonder; as, in all probability, the French man had read Tibullus's panegyric §, which plainly fhows that the diminution of his fortune was not owing to his own intemperance. And if the grammarian had perufed his elegies | with ever fo little attention, he would have feen, that Tibullus was rather religious than otherwife, and by no means an Epi. curean, at least in belief.

But, fay fome critics, who have too thoughtlefsly embraced this opinion, does not Horace confirm it, where he tells us, that his father warned him, when a young man, from purfuing

courfe was worth upwards of three thoufand pounds fterling.-There are alfo innumerable paffages in his elegies", which prove, that he was by no means in diftreffed circumftances, though lefs wealthy than his ancestors. Again, is it to be imagined, that the rich and generous Meffala would have fuffered fo fine a genius, and one whom he regarded fo much, to have been diftreffed by his creditors? And, to crown all, as Tibullus was confeffedly fome years younger than Horace, with what propriety could Horace's father propofe Tibullus as an example not to be followed by his fon?

When fuch were the friends of Tibullus, and his poetical abilities had long since obtained him univerfal applaufe, he could have found no difficulty in getting admiflion to the learned court of Augurus. How then, afk the commentators, has it come to pass, that he never once mentions either that emperor, or Mæcenas, both whom his brother poets celebrated with fuch a lavishness of praife? And yet, add they, there are many parts of his writings where thofe patrons of genius might have been introduced with uncommon propriety?

True to the principles of the republic, and a real friend to the liberties of the people, Tibullus never could prevail upon himself to flatter those, whatever affection they expreffed for the mufes, whom his principles taught him to deteft as the enflavers of his country.

This, as Pope emphatically expreffes it," kept "him facred from the great," who, doubtless, perceived with fecret difpleafure (for Auguftus and Mæcenas well knew the importance of having the poets on their fide), that no lofs of fortune, and no allurement of mbition, could induce Tibullus to join in the general chorus of their praife. Although both the emperor and his favourite muft in their hearts have applauded our poet's integrity; yet that mental applause, in all probability, would not have fecured Tibullus from the effects of their difpleasure, had it not been for the intereft which he had with Meffala.

Befides Meffala, Valgius, and Macer, Tibullus mentions Cornutus, Marathus, Titius, and Meffalinus. The conjectures of the critics concerning thefe Romans, are inferted in the notes to the elegies, where their names occur.

Soon after this, Tibullus fell in love with Ne zra. It is true, that the elegies he wrote to Ne

See the notes on the first elegy of the first book, and on the firft and third elegy of the fecond.

æra, in every edition of our poet, follow thofe, in which he celebrates Nemefis: yet as Ovid (who could not well be mistaken in what related to one whom he regarded fo much as Tibullus) fays that Nemefis was his laft mistress, and as it is probable that the fifth elegy of the fecond book (our poet being then certainly very fond of Nemefis) was written between the years 732 and 734, when Auguftus wintered in Samos, that is, a fhort time before our poet's death, we suppose, although the learned gentleman who favoured the author with the notes marked B, is of a different opinion, that Neæra was the third object of his affections.

Fabricius conjectures, from her name, that she was a woman of the town; Neæra, in the declension of the Roman empire, being a synonimous term for a courtezan *: but Fabricius fhould have confidered that Tibullus wrote in the Auguftan age. Befides, it appears from Homert, from Valerius Flaccus, and from an old marble ftatue preferved by Pignorius §, that women of the first rank, and most unfufpected modefty, were called by that name. Without, however, these authorities, Tibullus himself fcreens this favourite from the imputation of libertinifm, by beftowing on her the epithet cafta || He alfo characterises her parents, as people of virtue and fortune.

It appears from the second and third elegy of the third book, that Neæra, after a long courtfhip, having confented to marry Tibullus, was fomehow or other forced away from him. This gave our poet an uncommon concern, which was redoubled, when he difcovered, that the herfelf had not only been acceffary to her being carried off, but meant alfo to marry his rival.

Mr. Dart, in his Life of Tibullus, is of opinion, that Neæra was the fame with Glycera. But why, then, does our poet not call her by that name? Befides, if any one will attentively per. ufe Horace's confolatory ode to our author on the infidelity of Glycera, and compare it with many paffages in the third book of Tibullus, he will eafily fee, that Mr. Dart must be mistaken.

Tibullus, who had hitherto been unsuccessful in his addreffes to the fair, was not more fortunate in his laft miftrefs; for, if Nemefis (for fo was the called) poffeffed beauties of mind and perfon equal to thofe of Delia and Neæra, her extreme avarice obfcured them all. And though Martial. founds Tibullus's chief claim to poetical reputation on the elegies he addreffed to that lady,

Fama eft arguti Nemesis formosa Tibulli,

we have our poet's authority for afferting, the they produced no effect upon her.

Whether Nemesis ever abated of her rigour t Tibullus, his elegies do not inform us. It is deed probable fhe did, especially fince Ovid prefents her as fincerely grieved at Tibulla death, which, according to Marfus, a cotemp rary poet, happened foon after that of Virgil: Te quoque, Virgilio comitem, non æqua, Tibu Mors juvenem campos mifit ad Elyfios: Ne foret, aut elegis molles qui fleret amores; Aut caneret forti regia beila pede. Thee! young Tibullus, to th' Elysian plain Death bid accompany great Maro's fhade; Determin'd that no poet fhould remain, Or to fing wars, or weep the cruel maid.

For Tibullus died either A. U. C. 735, year of Virgil's death, or the year after, in forty-fourth or forty-fifth year of his age.

Nor was Marfus the only poet who celebr this melancholy event: Ovid, who had to friendship than admiration for Tibullus, bas mortalized both himself and his friend in the lowing beautiful elegy; which, containing further particulars relating to our poet, will a proper conclufion to this life, which, fre fcantinefs, as well as the little authority d of the materials, the author is forry he render more complete.

If Thetis, if the blushing Queen of Morn,
For mortal fons; come. Elegy forlorn!
If mighty 'goddeffes could tafte of woe

Come, weeping dame! and bid thy trefle
Thou bear'ft, foft miftrefs of the tearful e

From grief thy name, now name alas to For fee thy favourite bard, thy glory lie

Stretch'd on yon funeral pile, ah! lif See Venus' fon, his torch extinguish'd bra

His quiver all revers'd, and broke his bew, See penfive how he droops with flagging wi And strikes his bared bosom many a blew. Loofe and neglected, scatter'd o'er his neck, His golden locks drink many a falling tear What piteous fobs, as if his heart would break. Shake his fwoln cheek? Ah forrow too f

Memnona fi mater, mater ploravit Achilles, Et tangunt magnas triftia fata deos; Flebilis indignos, Elegia, folve capillos,

Ah nimis ex vero nunc tibi nomen erit! Ille tui vates operis, tua fama, Tibullus

Ardet in extracto corpus inane rogo. Ecce, puer Veneris fert everfamque pharetra Et fractos arcus, et fine luce facem. Adfpice, demiffis ut eat miferabilis alis; Pectoraque infeftâ tundat aperta maut. Excipiunt fparfi lacrymas per colla capilli, Oraque fingultu concutiente fonant.

* Lib. iii. El. 8.

† Aurora.

Thus, fair Iülus! for thy godlike fire *,

'Tis faid, he weeping from thy roof withdrew : Nor deeper mourn'd the queen of foft defire †, When the grim boar her lov'd Adonis flew. And yet we bards are fondly call'd divine,

Are facred held, the gods' peculiar care :
There are, that deem us of th' ethereal line,
That fomething of the Deity we share.

But what can death's abhorred stroke withstand?
Say what so facred he will not profane ?
On all the monster lays his dusky hand,
And poets are immortal deem'd in vain.
Thee, Orpheus, what avail'd thy heavenly fire?
Thy mother-mufe, and beast-inchanting fong?
The god for Linus fwept his mournful lyre,

And with a father's woes the forefts rung.
Great Homer fee, from whofe eternal spring
Pierian draughts the poet train derive,
Not he could 'fcape the fell remorseless king †,
His lays alone the greedy flames furvive.
Still live the work of ages, Ilion's fame,
And the flow web by nightly craft unwove:
So Nemefis fhall live, and Delia's name;
This his first paffion, that his recent love.
Now what avails, ye fair! each holy rite,
Each painful fervice for your lover paid?
Reclufe and lonely that you pass'd the night?
Or fought th' Egyptian cymbal's fruitless aid?
When partial fate thus tears the good away,
(Forgive, ye juft! th' involuntary thought)
I'm led to doubt of Jove's eternal sway,

And fear that gods and heaven are words of nought.

Fratris in Æneæ fic illum funere dicunt

Egreffum tectis, pulcher Jüle, tuis.
Nec minus eft confufa Venus moriente Tibullo,
Quam juveni rupit, cum ferus inguen aper.
At facri vates, et divûm cura vocamur :

Sunt etiam, qui nos numen habere putent.
Scilicet omne facrum mors importuna profanat:
Omnibus obfcuras injicit illa manus.
Quid pater Ifmario, quid mater profuit, Orpheo?
Carmine quid victas obftupuiffe feras?
Elinon in fylvis idem pater, Ælinon, altis
Dicitur invitâ concinuiffe Lyiâ

Adfpice Moonidem, à quo, ceu fonte perenni,
Vatum Pieriis ora rigantur aquis;

Hunc quoque fummo dies nigro fubmerfit Averno;
Effugiunt avidos carmina fola rogos.
Durat opus vatum Trojani fama laboris,
Tardsque nocturno tela retexta dolo.
Sic Nemefis longum, fic Delia nomen habebit,
Altera cura recens, altera primus amor.

Quid nunc facra juvant? quid nunc Ægyptia profunt

Siftra? quid in vacuo fecubuiffe toro?
Cum rapiant mala fata bonos, (ignofcite faffo)
Sollicitor nullos effe putare Deos.

Live pious, you must die: religion prize,

Death to the tomb will drag you from the fane: Confide in verfe; lo! where Tibullus lies!

His all a little urn will now contain !

Thee, facred bard! could then funereal fires Snatch from us? on thy bofom durft they feed? Not fanes were fafe, not Jove's refulgent spires From flames that ventur'd on this impious deed The beauteous queen that reigns in Eryx towers, From the fad fight averts her mournful face; There are, that tell of soft and pearly showers Which down her lovely checks their courfes

trace.

Yet better thus, than on Phæacia's strand,
Unknown, unpitied, and unfeen to die:
His clofing eyes here felt a mother's hand,
Her tender hands each honour'd rite fupply.
His parting fhade here found a fifter's care,
Who fad attends, with treffes loofe and torn:
The fair he lov'd his dying kiffes fhare,

Nor quit the pyre afflicted and forlorn. "Farewel, dear youth!" thus Delia parting cry'd, "How bleft the time, when I infpir'd the lay? "You liv'd, were happy; every care defy'd, "While I poffefs'd your heart, untaught to stray." To whom thus Nemefis, in fcornful mood,

"Mine was the lofs, then why art thou distress'd? "Me, only me with parting life he view'd; "My hand alone with dying ardour press'd f."

Vive pius; moriere pius: cole facra; colentem
Mors gravis à templis in cava busta trahet.
Carminibus confide bonis; jacet ecce Tibullus,
Vix manet è toto parva quod urna capit.
Tene, facer vates, flammæ rapuere rogales?
Pectoribus pafci nec timuere tuis?
Aurea fanctorum potuiffent templa deorum
Urere, quæ tantum fuftinuere nefas.
Avertit vultus, Erycis quæ poffidet arces,

Sunt quoque, qui lacrymas continuiffe negent. Sed tamen hoc melius, quam fi Phæacia tellus Ignotum vili fubpofuiffent humo.

Hic certè manibus fugientes preffit ocellos

Mater; & in cineres ultima dona tulit: Hic foror in partem miferâ cum matre doloris Venit, inornatas dilaniata comas.

amata

Cum tuis fua junxerunt Nemefifque, priorque Ofcula: nec folos deftituere rogos. Delia difcedens, " Felicius," inquit, "Sum tibi; vixifti, dum tuus ignis eram." Cui Nemefis, " Quid," ait," tibi fint mea damna dolori ?

"Me tenuit moriens deficiente manu."

*The Capitol.

† Alluding ironically to the following passage in the |firft Elegy, which Tibullus there applies to Delia, Te videam fuprema mibi cum venerit bora ! Te teneam moriens deficiente manu !

O may I view thee with life's parting ray!
And thy dear hand with dying ardor prefs!

And yet, if ought beyond this mouldering clay
But empty name and fhadowy form remain,
Thou liv't, dear youth for ever young and gay,
For ever bleft, fhalt range th' Elyfian plain.
And thou, Catullus! learned gallant mind,
(Faft by thy fide thy Calvus will attend)
With ivy wreaths thy youthful temples twin'd,
Shalt fpring to hail th' arrival of thy friend.
And Gallus too profufe of life and blood,

If no fad breach of friendship's law deprive,

Si tamen è nobis aliquid, nifi nomen et umbra,
Reftat; in Elyfiâ valle Tibullus erit.
Obvius huic venies hederâ juvenilia cinctus

Tempora, cum Calvo, docte Catulle, tuo.
Tu quoque (falfum temerati crimen amici)

Sanguinis atque animæ prodige, Galle, tuæ.

This hand immortal of the blest and good, Thy fhade fhall join, if fhades at all forvive. Thou, polish'd bard! thy lofs though here w

mourn,

Haft fwell'd the facred number of the bleft; Safe reft thy gentle bones within their urn! Nor heavy prefs the earth upon thy breast!

His comes ubra tua eft; fi quà eft modò corpers umbra;

Auxifti numeros, culte Tibulle, pios.
Offa quieta, precor, tutâ requiefcite in urn;
Et fit humus cineri non onerofa tuo.

THE glitt'ring ore let others vainly heap,

O'er fertile vales extend th' enclosing mound; With dread of neighb'ring foes forfake their fleep, And start aghaft at ev'ry trumpet's found. Me humbler scenes delight, and calmer days; A tranquil life fair poverty fecure! Then boaft, my hearth, a fmall but cheerful blaze, And riches grafp who will, let me be poor.

Nor yet be hope a ftranger to my door,

But o'er my roof, bright goddess, still prefide! 10 With many a bounteous autumn heap my floor, And fwell my vats with muft, a purple tide. My tender vines I'll plant with early care, And choiceft apples, with a skilful hand; Nor blush, a ruftic, oft to guide the share, Or goad the tardy ox along the land.

Let me a fimple fwain, with honeft pride,

20

30

If chance a lambkin from its dam should roam, Or fportful kid, the little wanderer chide, And in my bosom bear exulting home. Here Pales I bedew with milky fhow'rs, Luftrations yearly for my fhepherd pay, Revere each antique ftone bedeck'd with flow'rs, That bounds the field, or points the doubtful way. My grateful fruits, the earliest of the year, Before the rural god fhall duly wait. From Ceres' gifts I'll cull each browner ear, And hang a wheaten wreath before her gate. The ruddy god fhall fave my fruit from stealth, And far away each little plunderer fcare: And you, the guardians once of ampler wealth, My household gods, fhall fill my offerings thare. My num'rous herds, that wanton'd o'er the mead, The choiceft fatling then could richly yield; Now fearce I fpare a little lamb to bleed A mighty victim for my fcanty field. And yet a lamb fhall bleed, while, rang'd around, The village youths fhall ftand in order meet, With ruftic hymns, ye gods, your praise refound, And future crops and future wines entreat. 40 Then come, ye pow'rs, nor fcorn my frugal board, Nor yet the gifts clean earthen bowls convey; With these the firft of men the gods ador'd, And form'd their fimple fhape of ductile clay. My little flock, ye wolves, ye robbers, spare," Too mean a plunder to deferve your toil; For wealthier herds the nightly theft prepare; There seek a nobler prey, and richer spoil.

50

For treafur'd wealth, nor ftores of golden wheat,
The hoard of frugal fires, I vainly call;
A little farm be mine, a cottage neat
And wonted couch where balmy sleep may fall.
"What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,

"And clafp a fearful mistress to my breast: "Or lull'd to flumber by the beating rain, "Secure and happy fink at laft to reft." Thefe joys be mine!-O grant me only thefe, And give to others bags of fhining gold, Whofe fteely heart can brave the boift'rous feas, The ftorm wide-wafting, or the ftiff'ning cold. 60 Content with little, I would rather stay

Than spend long months amid the wat'ry waste : In cooling fhades elude the fcorching ray

Befide fome fountain's gliding waters plac'd.

O perish rather all that's rich and rare,

The diamond quarry, and the golden vein, Than that my abfence coft one precious tear, Or give fome gentle maid a moment's pain. With glitt'ring fpoils, Meffala, gild thy dome, Be thine the noble task to lead the brave: A lovely foe me captive holds at home, Chain'd to her fcornful gate, a watchful flave. Inglorious poft!—And yet I heed not fame :

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Th' applaufe of crowds for Delia I'd refign: To live with thee I'd bear the coward's name, Nor 'midft the fcorn of nations once repine. With thee to live I'd mock the ploughman's toil, Or on fome lonely mountain tend my sheep; At night I'd lay me on the flinty foil,

And happy 'midst thy dear embraces fleep. 80 What drooping lover heeds the Tyrian bed,

While the long night is pafs'd with many a sigh: Nor fofteft down with richeft carpets spread, Nor whifp'ring rills, can close the weeping eye. Of threefold iron were his rugged frame,

Who when he might thy yielding heart obtain, Could yet attend the calls of empty fame, Or follow arms in queft of fordid gain. Unenvy'd let him drive the vanquish'd hoft,

Thro' captive lands his conquering armies lead; Unenvy'd wear the robe with gold imbofs'd, 90 And guide with folemn ftate his foaming fteed. O may I view thee with life's parting ray,

And thy dear hand with dying ardor prefs: Sure thou wilt weep-and on thy lover's clay, With breaking heart, print many a tender kifs;