THEY call thee rich-I deem thee poor,
Since, if thou darest not use thy store,
But savest it only for thine heirs,
The treasure is not thine, but theirs.
ANOTHER.
A MISER traversing his house,
Espied, unusual there, a mouse,
And thus his uninvited guest
Briskly inquisitive address'd:
"Tell me, my dear, to what cause is it
I owe this unexpected visit?"
The mouse her host obliquely eyed,
And, smiling, pleasantly replied:
"Fear not, good fellow, for your hoard!
I come to lodge, and not to board."
ART thou some individual of a kind
Long-lived by nature as the rook or hind?
Heap treasure, then, for if thy need be such,
Thou hast excuse, and scarce canst heap too much.
But man thou seem'st, clear therefore from thy breast
This lust of treasure-folly at the best!
For why shouldst thou go wasted to the tomb,
To fatten with thy spoils thou know'st not whom?
ON THE GRASSHOPPER.
HAPPY Songster, perch'd above,
On the summit of the grove,
Whom a dewdrop cheers to sing
With the freedom of a king.
From thy perch survey the fields
Where prolific nature yields
Nought that, willingly as she,
Man surrenders not to thee.
For hostility or hate
None thy pleasures can create.
Thee it satisfies to sing
Sweetly the return of spring,
Herald of the genial hours,
Harming neither herbs nor flowers.
Therefore man thy voice attends
Gladly-thou and he are friends;
Nor thy never-ceasing strains,
Phoebus or the muse disdains
As too simple or too long,
For themselves inspire the song.
Earth-born, bloodless, undecaying,
Ever singing, sporting, playing,
What has nature else to show
Godlike in its kind as thou?
CHARON receive a family on board,
Itself sufficient for thy crazy yawl,
Apollo and Diana, for a word
By me too proudly spoken, slew us all.
ON FEMALE INCONSTANCY.
RICH, thou hadst many lovers-poor, hast none,
So surely want extinguishes the flame,
And she who call'd thee once her pretty one,
And her Adonis, now inquires thy name.
Where wast thou born, Sosicrates, and where,
In what strange country can thy parents live,
Who seem'st, by thy complaints, not yet aware
That want's a crime no woman can forgive!
FOND youth! who dream'st that hoarded gold
Is needful, not alone to pay
For all thy various items sold,
To serve the wants of every day;
Bread, vinegar, and oil, and meat,
For savoury viands season'd high;
But somewhat more important yet-
I tell thee what it cannot buy.
No treasure, hadst thou more amass'd
Than fame to Tantalus assign'd,
Would save thee from a tomb at last,
But thou must leave it all behind.
I give thee, therefore, counsel wise;
Confide not vainly in thy store,
However large-much less despise
Others comparatively poor;
But in thy more exalted state
A just and equal temper show,
That all who see thee rich and great,
May deem thee worthy to be so.
ON PALLAS BATHING, FROM A HYMN OF CALLIMACHUS.
NOR oils of balmy scent produce,
Nor mirror for Minerva's use,
Ye nymphs who lave her; she array'd
In genuine beauty, scorns their aid.
Not even when they left the skies.
To seek on Ida's head the prize
From Paris' hand, did Juno deign,
Or Pallas in the crystal plain
Of Simois' stream her locks to trace,
Or in the mirror's polish'd face,
Though Venus oft with anxious care
Adjusted twice a single hair.
TO DEMOSTHENES.
Ir flatters and deceives thy view,
This mirror of ill-polish'd ore;
For, were it just, and told thee true,
Thou wouldst consult it never more.
ON A SIMILAR CHARACTER.
You give your cheeks a rosy stain,
With washes dye your hair;
But paint and washes both are vain
To give a youthful air.
Those wrinkles mock your daily toil,
No labour will efface 'em,
You wear a mask of smoothest oil,
Yet still with ease we trace 'em.
An art so fruitless then forsake,
Which though you much excel in,
You never can contrive to make
Old Hecuba young Helen.
ON AN UGLY FELLOW.
BEWARE, my friend! of crystal brook,
Or fountain, lest that hideous hook,
Thy nose, thou chance to see;
Narcissus' fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou wouldst pine,
As self-enamour'd he.
WHEN Aulus, the nocturnal thief made prize
Of Hermes, swift-wing'd envoy of the skies,
Hermes, Arcadia's king, the thief divine,
Who when an infant stole Apollo's kine,
And whom, as arbiter and overseer
Of our gymnastic sports, we planted here;
"Hermes," he cried, you meet no new disaster;
Ofttimes the pupil goes beyond his master."
PITY, says the Theban bard,
From my wishes I discard;
Envy, let me rather be,
Rather far, a theme for thee.
Pity to distress is shown,
Envy to the great alone-
So the Theban-But to shine
Less conspicuous be mine!
I prefer the golden mean,
Pomp and penury between;
For alarm and peril wait
Ever on the loftiest state,
And the lowest to the end
Obloquy and scorn attend.
ON A BATTERED BEAUTY.
HAIR, wax, rouge, honey, teeth you buy,
A multifarious store!
A mask at once would all supply,
Nor would it cost you more.
ON PEDIGREE.
FROM EPICHARMUS.
My mother! if thou love me, name no more
My noble birth! Sounding at every breath
My noble birth, thou kill'st me. Thither fly,
As to their only refuge, all from whom
Nature withholds all good besides; they boast
Their noble birth, conduct us to the tombs
Of their forefathers, and, from age to age
Ascending, trumpet their illustrious race:
But whom hast thou beheld, or canst thou name,
Derived from no forefathers? Such a man
Lives not; for how could such be born at all?
And, if it chance that, native of a land
Far distant, or in infancy deprived
Of all his kindred, one, who cannot trace
His origin, exist, why deem him sprung
From baser ancestry than theirs who can?
My mother! he whom nature at his birth
Endow'd with virtuous qualities, although
An Ethiop and a slave, is nobly born.
I SLEPT when Venus enter'd: to my bed
A Cupid in her beauteous hand she led,
A bashful seeming boy, and thus she said:
"Shepherd, receive my little one! I bring
An untaught love, whom thou must teach to sing.”
She said, and left him. I, suspecting nought,
Many a sweet strain my subtle pupil taught,
How reed to reed Pan first with osier bound,
How Pallas form'd the pipe of softest sound,
How Hermes gave the lute, and how the quire
Of Phoebus owe to Phoebus' self the lyre.
Such were my themes; my themes nought heeded he,
But ditties sang of amorous sort to me,
The pangs that mortals and immortals prove
From Venus' influence and the darts of love.
Thus was the teacher by the pupil taught;
His lessons I retain'd, he mine forgot.
OFT we enhance our ills by discontent,
And give them bulk beyond what nature meant.
A parent, brother, friend deceased, to cry-.
"He's dead indeed, but he was born to die"-
Such temperate grief is suited to the size
And burden of the loss, is just and wise.
But to exclaim, "Ah! wherefore was I born,
Thus to be left for ever thus forlorn ?"
Who thus laments his loss invites distress,
And magnifies a woe that might be less,
Through dull despondence to his lot resign'd,
And leaving reason's remedy behind.
ON ONE IGNORANT AND ARROGANT.
THOU mayst of double ignorance boast,
Who know'st not that thou nothing know'st.
PRUDENT SIMPLICITY.
THAT thou mayst injure no man, dove-like be, And serpent-like, that none may injure thee!
SUNSET AND SUNRISE.
CONTEMPLATE, when the sun declines,
Thy death with deep reflection!
And when again he rising shines,
The day of resurrection!
TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS.
I WISH thy lot, now bad, still worse, my friend; For when at worst, they say, things always mend.
THE works of ancient bards divine,
Aulus, thou scorn'st to read;
And should posterity read thine,
It would be strange indeed!
WHEN little more than boy in age,
I deem'd myself almost a sage :
But now seem worthier to be styled,
For ignorance, almost a child.
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