Narcissus' fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou would'st pine
As self-enamour'd he,

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 a Thief.

WHEN Aulus, the nocturnal thief, made prize

Of Hermes, swift-winged 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;
Oftimes the pupil goes beyond his master.

On Pedigree, from Epicharmus.

My mother! if thou love me, name no more
My noble birth! Sounding at every breath

My

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
Deriv'd 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 depriv'd

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.

On Envy.

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 shewn:
Envy to the great alone-

!

So

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.

By Philemon.

OFT we enhance our ills by discontent,

And give them bulk beyond what nature meant.
A parent, brother, friend deceas'd, to cry—
"He's dead indeed, but he was born to die."

Such temperate grief is suited to the size,
And burthen of the loss, is just, and wise.
But to exclaim, "Ah! wherefore was I born,
Thus to be left, for ever thus folorn ?"
Who thus laments his loss, invites distress,
And magnifies a woe that might be less,
Through dull despondence to his lot resigned,
And leaving reason's remedy behind.

By Moschus.

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 ozier bound

How Pallas form'd the pipe of softest sound,
How Hermes gave the lute, and how the quire
Of Phœbus owe to Phoebus' self the lyre.

Such were my themes; my themes nought heeded he,
But ditties sang of am'rous sort tɔ 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, and mine forgot..

Тт

APPENDIX.

(No. 3.)

TRANSLATIONS from HORACE and VIRGIL.

THE

FIFTH SATIRE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK OF HORACE.

(Printed in Duncombe's Horace.)

A humourous Description of the Author's Journey from Rome to Brudusium.

'TWAS a long journey lay before us,

When I, and honest Heliodorus,

Who far in point of rhetoric

Surpasses ev'ry living Greek,
Each leaving our respective home,
Together sally'd forth from Rome.

First at Aricia we alight,

And there refresh, and pass

the night,

Our entertainment rather coarse

Than sumptuous, but I've met with worse.
Thence o'er the causeway soft and fair
To Apiiforum we repair.

But as this road is well supply'd

(Temptation strong!) on either side

With