THE defign 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 noft of his fatires. For which reafon, 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 firft fatire; which is chiefly to decry the poetry then in fafhion, and the impudence of those who were endeavouring to pass their stuff upon the world. PROLOGUE то т н Е I FIRST SATIR E. NEVER did on cleft Parnaffus dream, Nor tafte the facred Heliconian stream; And claim no part in all the mighty Nine. The hungry witlings have it in their eye; ARGU ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST SATIRE. I NEED not repeat, that the chief aim of the author is against bad poets in this fatire. But I must add, that he includes alfo bad orators, who began at that time (as Petronius in the beginning of his book tells us) to enervate manly eloquence, by tropes and figures, ill-placed and worfe applied. Amongst the poets, Perfius covertly frikes at Nero; fome of whofe verfes he recites with fcorn and indignation. He alfo takes notice of the noblemen and their abominable poetry, who, in the luxury of their fortunes, fet up for wits and judges. The fatire is in dialogue, betwixt the author and his friend or monitor; who difluades him from this dangerous attempt of exposing great men. But Perfius, who is of a free spirit, and has not forgotten that Rome was once a commonwealth, breaks through all thofe difficulties, and boldly arraigns the falfe judgment of the age in which he lives. The reader may ob ́ ferve that our poet was a ftoick philofopher; and that all his moral fentences, both here and in all the rest of his fatires, are drawn from the dogmas of that fect. THE FIRST SATIRE. In Dialogue betwixt the Poer and his FRIEND or MONITOR. H PERSIU S. OW anxious are our cares, and yet how vain Friend. Thy fpleen contain: For none will read thy fatires. Perfius. This to me? Friend. None; or what's next to none, but two or three. 'Tis hard, I grant. Perfius. 'Tis nothing; I can bear That paltry fcribblers have the public ear: That this vaft univerfal fool, the town, Should cry up Labeo's ftuff, and cry me down. They damn themselves; nor will my Muse descend I weigh no merit by the common scale. But |