Sivut kuvina

let their excellencies atone for my imperfec- which is instruction, must yet allow, that, tions, and those of my sons. I have perus’d without the means of pleasure, the instrucsome of the satires which are done by tion is but a bare and dry philosophy: a other hands, and they seem to me as per- crude preparation of morals, which we may fect in their kind as anything I have seen have from Aristotle and Epictetus, with in English verse. The common way which more profit than from any poet. Neither we have taken is not a literal translation, Holyday nor Stapylton have imitated Jubut a kind of paraphrase; or somewhat venal in the poetical part of him, his diction which is yet more loose, betwixt a para- and his elocution. Nor had they been poets, phrase and imitation. It was not possible as neither of them were, yet, in the way for us, or any men, to have made it pleasant they took, it was impossible for them to any other way. If rend'ring the exact sense have succeeded in the poetic part. of these authors, almost line for line, had The English verse which we call heroic been our business, Barten Holyday had consists of no more than ten syllables; the done it already to our hands; and, by the Latin hexameter sometimes rises to sevenhelp of his learned notes and illustrations, teen; as, for example, this verse in Virgil: not only Juvenal and Persius, but, what yet is more obscure, his own verses, might be

Pulverulenta putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum. understood.

Here is the difference of no less than seven But he wrote for fame, and wrote to syllables in a line, betwixt the English and scholars; we write only for the pleasure the Latin. Now the medium of these is about and entertainment of those gentlemen and fourteen syllables; because the dactyl is a ladies, who, tho' they are not scholars, are more frequent foot in hexameters than the not ignorant: persons of understanding and spondee. But Holyday, without considering good sense, who, not having been conversant that he writ with the disadvantage of four in the original, or at least not having made syllables less in every verse, endeavors to Latin verse so much their business as to be make one of his lines to comprehend the sense critics in it, would be glad to find if the wit of one of Juvenal's. According to the falsity of our two great authors be answerable to of the proposition was the success. He was their fame and reputation in the world. We forc'd to crowd his verse with ill-sounding have, therefore, endeavor'd to give the pub- monosyllables, of which our barbarous lanhic all the satisfaction we are able in this guage affords him a wild plenty; and by kind.

that means he arriv'd at his pedantic end, And if we are not altogether so faithful which was to make a literal translation. to our author, as our predecessors Holyday His verses have nothing of verse in them, and Stapylton, yet we may challenge to but only the worst part of it, the rhyme; ourselves this praise, that we shall be far and that, into the bargain, is far from good. more pleasing to our readers. We have But, which is more intolerable, by cramming follow'd our authors at greater distance, his ill-chosen and worse-sounding monotho' not step by step, as they have done: for syllables so close together, the very sense oftentimes they have gone so close, that they which he endeavors to explain is become have trod on the heels of Juvenal and Per- more obscure than that of his author; so sius, and hurt them by their too near ap- that Holyday himself cannot be understood, proach. A noble author would not be pur- without as large a commentary as that sued too close by a translator. We lose his which he makes on his two authors. For spirit, when we think to take his body. The my own part, I can make a shift to find grosser part remains with us, but the soul the meaning of Juvenal without his notes; is flown away in some noble expression, or but his translation is more difficult than his some delicate turn of words or thought. author. And I find beauties in the Latin to Thus Holyday, who made this way his recompense my pains; but, in Holyday and choice, seiz'd the meaning of Juvenal; but Stapylton, my ears, in the first place, are the poetry has always scap'd him.

mortally offended; and then their sense is so They who will not grant me that pleasure perplex'd, that I return to the original, as the is one of the ends of poetry, but that it is more pleasing task, as well as the more easy. only a means of compassing the only end, This must be said for our translation, that, if we give not the whole sense of Ju- works, he does himself justice on them, by venal, yet we give the most considerable giving them as bad as they bring. But since part of it: we give it, in general, so clearly,

no man will rank himself with ill writers, that few notes are sufficient to make us

't is easy to conclude, that if such wretches

could draw an audience, he thought it no intelligible. We make our author at least

hard matter to excel them, and gain a greater appear in a poetic dress. We have actually made him more sounding, and more elegant,

esteem with the public. Next he informs us

more openly, why he rather addicts himself than he was before in English; and have en- to satire, than any other kind of poetry. And deavor'd to make him speak that kind of here he discovers that it is not so much his English which he would have spoken had indignation to ill poets, as to ill men, which he liv'd in England, and had written to this has prompted him to write. He therefore age. If sometimes any of us (and 't is but gives us a summary and general view of the seldom) make him express the customs and

vices and follies reigning in his time. So that manners of our native country rather than

this first satire is the natural groundwork of of Rome, 't is either when there was some

all the rest. Herein he confines himself to no kind of analogy betwixt their customs and

one subject, but strikes indifferently at all

men in his way: in every following satire he ours, or when, to make him more easy to

has chosen some particular moral which he vulgar understandings, we gave him those

would inculcate ; and lashes some particumanners which are familiar to us. But I

lar vice or folly (an art with which our lamdefend not this innovation; 't is enough if I pooners are not much acquainted). But our can excuse it. For, to speak sincerely, the poet being desirous to reform his own age, manners of nations and ages are not to be

and not daring to attempt it by an overt confounded; we should either make them

act of naming living persons, inveighs only English, or leave them Roman. If this can

against those who were infamous in the neither be defended nor excus'd, let it be

times immediately preceding his, whereby

he not only gives a fair warning to great pardon'd at least, because it is acknowledg'd;

men, that their memory lies at the mercy of and so much the more easily, as being a

future poets and historians, but also, with fault which is never committed without some

a finer stroke of his pen, brands ev'n the pleasure to the reader.

living, and personates them under dead men's Thus, my Lord, having troubled you with a tedious visit, the best manners will be shewn in the least ceremony. I will slip

I have avoided as much as I could possibly away while your back is turn'd, and while the borrow'd learning of marginal notes and you are otherwise employ'd; with great con

illustrations, and for that reason have transfusion for having entertain'd you so long

lated this satire somewhat largely ; and freely

own (if it be a fault) that I have likewise with this discourse, and for having no other recompense to make you, than the worthy thought they

would not much edify the reader.

omitted most of the proper names, because I labors of my fellow-undertakers in this

To conclude, if in two or three places I have work, and the thankful acknowledgments, deserted all the commentators, 't is because I prayers, and perpetual good wishes, of, thought they first deserted my author, or at MY LORD,

least have left him in so much obscurity, that Your Lordship's

too much room is left for guessing.
Most oblig'd, most humble,
And most obedient Servant,

Still shall I hear, and never quit the

score, Aug. 18, 1692.

Stunn’d with hoarse Codrus'. Theseid, o'er

and o'er ?

Shall this man's elegies and t'other's play THE FIRST SATIRE OF

Unpunish'd murther a long summer's day? JUVENAL

Huge Telephus, a formidable page,

Cries vengeance; and Orestes'bulky rage, THE ARGUMENT

Unsatisfied with margins closely writ, The poet gives us first a kind of humorous Foams o'er the covers, and not finish'd yet. reason for his writing : that being provok'd

No man can take a more familiar note by hearing so many ill poets rehearse their Of his own home, than I of Vulcan's grot,





my best,


Or Mars his grove,' or hollow winds that And after him the wretch in pomp convey'd, blow

Whose evidence his lord and friend betray'd, From Ætna's top, or tortur'd ghosts below. And but the wish'd occasion does attend I know by rote the fam'd exploits of From the poor nobles the last spoils to Greece;

rend, The Centaurs' fury, and the Golden Fleece; Whom ev'n spies dread as their superior Thro' the thick shades th' eternal scribbler

fiend, bawls,

And bribe with presents; or, when presents And shakes the statues on their pedestals. fail, The best and worst 5 on the same theme They send their prostituted wives for bail: employs

When night-performance holds the place of His Muse, and plagues us with an equal merit, noise.

And brawn and back the next of kin disProvok'd by these incorrigible fools,

herit; I left declaiming in pedantic schools; For such good parts are in preferment's Where, with men-boys, I strove to get re

way, nown,

The rich old madam never fails to pay Advising Sylla to a private gown.

Her legacies, by nature's standard giv'n, But, since the world with writing is pos- One gains an ounce, another gains eleven: sess'd,

A dear-bought bargain, all things duly I'll versify in spite; and do

weigh'd, To make as much waste paper as the For which their thrice concocted blood is rest.

paid: But why I lift aloft the Satire's rod, With looks as wan, as he who in the brake And tread the path which fam'd Lucilius ? At unawares has trod upon a snake; trod,

Or play'd at Lyons 13 a declaiming prize, Attend the causes which my Muse have led: For which the vanquish'd rhetorician dies. When sapless eunuchs mount the marriage- What indignation boils within my veins, bed;

When perjur'd guardians, proud with imWhen mannish Mævia,s that two-handed pious gains, whore,

Choke up the streets, too narrow for their Astride on horseback hunts the Tuscan boar;

trains ! When all our lords are by his wealth out- Whose wards, by want betray'd, to crimes

vied, Whose razor on my callow beard was Too foul to name, too fulsome to be read ! tried;

When he who pill’d his province scapes the When I behold the spawn of conquer'd laws, Nile,

And keeps his money,

tho' he lost his cause: Crispinus,10 both in birth and manners vile, His fine begg'd off, contemns his infamy, Pacing in pomp, with cloak of Tyrian dye, Can rise at twelve, and get him drunk ere Chang'd oft a day for needless luxury;

three; And finding oft occasion to be fann'd, Enjoys his exile, and, condemn'd in vain, Ambitious to produce his lady-hand; Leaves thee, prevailing province,14 to comCharg'd with light summer-rings 11 his fin

plain! gers sweat,

Such villainies rous'd Horace 15 into Unable to support a gem of weight

wrath; Such fulsome objects meeting everywhere, And 't is more noble to pursue his path, 'T is hard to write, but harder to forbear. Than an old tale of Diomede to repeat,

To view so lewd a town, and to refrain, Or lab’ring after Hercules to sweat, What hoops of iron could my spleen con- Or wand'ring in the winding maze of tain !

Crete; When pleading Matho, 12 borne abroad for Or with the winged smith aloft to fly, air,

Or flutt'ring perish with his foolish boy. With his fat paunch fills his new-fashion'd With what impatience must the Muse chair,



are led






The wife by her procuring husband sold ? For tho' the law makes null th' adulterer's

deed Of lands to her, the cuckold may succeed; Who his taught eyes up to the ceiling throws,

89 And sleeps all over but his wakeful nose. When he dares hope a colonel's command, Whose coursers kept, ran out his father's

land; Who, yet a stripling, Nero's chariot

drove, Whirld o'er the streets, while his vain

master strove With boasted art to please his eunuch

love.16 Would it not make a modest author dare To draw his table-book within the square, And fill with notes, when lolling at his ease, Mæcenas-like,17 the happy rogue he sees 99 Borne by six wearied slaves in open view, Who cancel'd an old will and forg'd a new; Made wealthy at the small expense of sign

ing With a wet seal, and a fresh interlining ?

The lady, next, requires a lashing line, Who squeez'd a toad into her husband's

wine: So well the fashionable med'cine thrives, That now 't is practic'd ev'n by country

wives; Pois’ning, without regard of fame or fear: And spotted corps are frequent on the bier. Wouldst thou to honors and preferments

climb, Be bold in mischief, dare some mighty

crime, Which dungeons, death, or banishment de


And scarcely mooring on the cliff, implor'd An oracle how man might be restor'd; When soften'd stones and vital breath en

sued, And virgins naked were by lovers view'd; Whatever since that Golden Age was done, What humankind desires, and what they

shun, Rage, passions, pleasures, impotence of will, Shall this satirical collection fill.

What age so large a crop of vices bore, Or when was avarice extended more ? When were the dice with more profusion

thrown ? The well-fill'd fob not emptied now alone, But gamesters for whole patrimonies play; The steward brings the deeds which must

convey The lost estate: what more than madness

reigns, When one short sitting many hundreds

drains, And not enough is left him to supply Board-wages, or a footman's livery? What age so many summer seats did

see? Or which of our forefathers far'd so well, As on seven dishes, at a private meal? Clients of old were feasted; now a poor Divided dole is dealt at th' outward door, Which by the hungry rout is soon dis

patch'd: The paltry largess, too, severely watch'd Ere given; and every face observ'd with care,

150 That no intruding guest usurp a share. Known, you receive: the crier calls aloud Our old nobility of Trojan blood, Who gape among the crowd for their

precarious food. The prætors' and the tribunes' voice is

heard; The freedman justles, and will be preferr’d;

first serv’d,” he cries; "and I, in spite Of your great lordships, will maintain my

right. Tho’ born a slave, tho' my torn ears are

bor'd,20 'T is not the birth, 't is money makes the

lord. The rents of five fair houses I receive; What greater honors can the purple give ? The poor patrician 21 is reduc'd to keep In melancholy walks a grazier's sheep:



“First come,

For virtue is but dryly prais’d, and sterves. Great men, to great crimes, owe their

plate emboss'd, Fair palaces, and furniture of cost; And high commands: a sneaking sin is

lost. Who can behold that rank old lecher keep His son's corrupted wife, and hope to Or that male-harlot, or that unfledg'd boy, Eager to sin, before he can enjoy ? If nature could not, anger would indite Such woful stuff as I or S- -11 write. Count from the time, since old Deuca

lion's 19 boat, Rais'd by the flood, did on Parnassus float;

sleep? 18

I 20



on high 23




Not Pallas nor Licinius 22 had my treasure; Tho' much against the grain, forc'd to reThen let the sacred tribunes wait my lei


Buy roots for supper, and provide a fire. Once a poor rogue, 't is true, I trod the Meantime his lordship lolls within at ease, street,

Pamp'ring his paunch with foreign rarities; And trudg'd to Rome upon my naked Both sea and land are ransack'd for the feet:

feast, Gold is the greatest god; tho' yet we see And his own gut the sole invited guest. No temples rais'd to Money's majesty, 170 Such plate, such tables, dishes dress'd so No altars fuming to her pow'r divine,

well, Such as to Valor, Peace, and Virtue shine, That whole estates are swallow'd at a meal. And Faith, and Concord: where the stork Ev'n parasites are banish'd from his board:

(At once a sordid and luxurious lord:) Seems to salute her infant progeny,

Prodigious throat, for which whole boars Presaging pious love with her auspicious

are dress'd; cry

(A creature form'd to furnish out a feast.) But since our knights and senators account But present punishment pursues his maw, To what their sordid begging vails amount, When, surfeited and swellid, the peacock Judge what a wretched share the poor attends,

He bears into the bath; whence want of Whose whole subsistence on those alms de

breath, pends!

Repletions, apoplex, intestate death. Their household fire, their raiment, and His fate makes table talk, divulg'd with their food,

scorn, Prevented by those harpies; 24 when a wood And he, a jest, into his grave

is borne. Of litters thick besiege the donor's gate,

No age can go beyond us; future times 220 And begging lords and teeming ladies wait Can add no farther to the present crimes. The promis'd dole: nay, some have learn'd Our sons but the same things can wish the trick

and do; To beg for absent persons; feign them sick, Vice is at stand, and at the highest flow. Close mew'd in their sedans, for fear of Then, Satire, spread thy sails; take all air;

the winds can blow. And for their wives produce an empty Some may, perhaps, demand what Muse can chair.

yield “This is my spouse: dispatch her with her Sufficient strength for such a spacious field; share.

From whence can be deriv'd so large a 'Tis Galla." 25 “ Let her ladyship but vein,

Bold truths to speak, and spoken to main“No, sir, 't is pity to disturb her sleep.” 190 tain, Such fine employments our whole days When godlike freedom is so far bereft divide:

The noble mind, that scarce the name is The salutations of the morning tide

left. Call the sun; those ended, to the hall Ere scandalum magnatum was begot, We wait the patron, hear the lawyers bawl; No matter if the great forgave or not: Then to the statues; 26 where, amidst the But if that honest license now you take,

If into rogues omnipotent you rake, Of conqu’ring Rome, some Arab shews Death is your doom, impal'd upon a stake, his face,

Smear'd o'er with wax, and set on fire, to Inscrib'd with titles, and profanes the

light place;

The streets, and make a dreadful blaze by Fit to be piss'd against, and somewhat more. night. The great man, home conducted, shuts his Shall they, who drench'd three uncles in door:

a draught Old clients, wearied out with fruitless care, | Of pois’nous juice, be then in triumph Dismiss their hopes of eating, and despair;




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