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Or, in a mortgage, prove a Lawyer's fare;
Or, in a jointure, vanish from the heir ; 17@
Or in pure' equity (the case not clear)
The Chanc'ry takes your rents for twenty year:
At beft, it falls to some ® ungracious son,
Who cries, “My father's damn'd, and all's my own.
Shades, that to Bacon could retreat afford,

175
Become the portion of a booby Lord;
And Hemsley, once proud Buckingham's delight,
Slides to a Scriv'ner or a city Knight.

Let lands and houses have what Lords they will, Let Us be fix'd, and our own masters still. 180

in the concluding part, obliged him to diversify the sentiment. They are equally noble: but Horace's is expressed with the greater force.

THE

FIRST EPISTLE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK

OF

HORACE.

EPISTOLA I.

RIMA diete mihi, summa dicende camcna,

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Spe&atum satis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iteram antiquo me includere ludo. !

Non eadem eft actas, non mens. Veianius, armis

Hérculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;

Ne popolum extrema toties exoret ærenas

''Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui personet aurem;

Solves fenescentem mature sanus equum, ne

peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.

Nunc itaque et versus, et caetera ludicra pono:

Vzr. 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's borse, The fame of this heavy Poct, however problematical elsewhere, was universally received in the City of London. His vesfification is bere cxa&ly described : 'dift, and not strong; Aately and

EPIST LE I.

. SI

To L. BOLINGBROKE.

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T. JOHN, whose love indulg'd my labours paft,

Matures my present, and shall bound my lak/ Why will you break the Sabbath of my days? Now fick alike of Envy and of Praise. Public too long, ah let me hide my Age!

5 See Modeft · Cibber now has left the Stage: Our Gen'rals now, retir'd to their Estates, Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates, In Life's cool Ev'ning satiate of Applause, Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's cause,

A voice there is, that whispers in my ear, II ('Tis Reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear) s Friend Pope! be prudent, let your & Muse take

- breath, " And never gallop Pegasus to death; " Left ftiff, and stately, void of fire or force, “ You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's

" horse." Farewell then Verse and Love, and ev'ry Toy, The Rhyines and Rattles of the Man or Boy;

yet dull, like the sober and low-paced Animal generally employed w mount the Lord Mayor and therefore' here humouroully opposed to Pegalus.

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