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THE

FIRST EPISTLE

OF THE

FIRST BOOK

O F

HORACE.

EPISTOLA I.

RIMA dicte mihi, fumma dicende camena,

PRIMA

Spectatum fatis, et donatum jam rude, quaeris,

Maecenas, iterum antiquo me includere ludo.

Non eadem eft aetas, non mens. Veianius, armis

Herculis ad poftem fixis, latet abditus agro;

Ne populum extrema toties exoret arena.

f Eft mihi purgatam crebro qui perfonet aurem ; Solve & fenefcentem mature fanus equum, ne

Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.

NOTES.

VER. 3. Sabbath of my days?] i. e. The 49th year, the age of the Author.

VER. 8. Hang their old Trophies o'er the Garden gates,] An occafional ftroke of Satire on ill-placed ornaments. He has more openly ridiculed them in his Epifile on Tafte.

с

с

EPISTLE I

To L. BOLINGBROKE.

b

T. JOHN, whose love indulg'd my labours past, Matures my prefent, and fhall bound my last ! 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!

d

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 fatiate of Applause,
Nor fond of bleeding, ev'n in BRUNSWICK's cause,

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f A Voice there is, that whispers in my ear, II ('Tis Reafon's voice, which fometimes one can hear) "Friend Pope! be prudent, let your Mufe take "breath,

&

"And never gallop Pegafus to death;

NOTES.

"Load fome vain Church with old theatric state,
"Turn Arcs of Triumph to a garden gate.

VER. 10. ev'n in Brunswick's caufe.] In the former Editions it was, Britain's caufe. But the terms are fynony

mous,

h

Nunc itaque et verfus, et caetera ludicra pono:

Quid verum atque decens, curo et rogo, et omnis in

hoc fum:

* Condo, et compono, quae mox depromere poffim. Ac ne forte roges, 1 quo me duce, quo Lare tuter : Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri,

Quo me cunque rapit tempeftas, deferor hofpes. Nunc agilis fio, et merfor " civilibus undis,

Virtutis verae cuftos, rigidufque fatelles:

*

Nunc in Ariftippi P furtim praecepta relabor,
Et mihi res, non me rebus, fubjungere conor.

↑ Ut nox longa, quibus mentitur amica; diesque
* Omnis Ariftippum decuit color, et ftatus, et res. P.

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NOTES.

VER. 16. You limp, like Blackmore on a Lord Mayor's borfe.] The fame of this heavy Poet, however problematical elsewhere, was univerfally received in the City of London. His verfification is here exactly described: stiff,

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