TRUTH TOLD AT LAST.
SAYS Pontius in rage, contradicting his wife, You never yet told me one truth in your life.' Vex'd Pontia no way could this thesis allow, 'You're a cuckold, (says she) do I tell you truth now?'
DUKE DE NOAILLES.
VAIN the concern which you express,
That uncall'd Alard will possess
Your house and coach, both day and night,
And that Macbeth was haunted less
By Banquo's restless sprite.
With fifteen thousand pounds a-year,
Do you complain you cannot bear
An ill you may so soon retrieve?
Good Alard, faith, is modester
By much than you believe.
Lend him but fifty louis d'or,
And
you shall never see him more:
Take the advice; probatum est.
Why do the gods indulge our store,
But to secure our rest?
LET IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
READER, I was born, and cried;
I crack'd, I smelt, and so I died:
Like Julius Cæsar's was my death,
Who in the senate lost his breath.
Much alike entomb'd does lie
The noble Romulus and I:
And when I died, like Flora fair,
I left the commonwealth my heir.
FROM THE GREEK.
GREAT Bacchus, born in thunder and in fire,
By native heat asserts his dreadful sire.
Nourish'd near shady rills and cooling streams,
He to the nymphs avows his amorous flames.
To all the brethren at the Bell and Vine,
The moral says, ' Mix water with your wine.'
Aspice, venturo lætentur ut omnia sæclo:
O mihi tam longæ maneat pars ultima vitæ
Spiritus, et quantum sat erit tua dicere facta!
VIRG. Ecl. IV.
THY elder look, great Janus, cast
Into the long records of ages pass'd;
Review the years in fairest action dress'd
With noted white, superior to the rest;
Æras derived, and chronicles begun
From empires founded, and from battles won:
Show all the spoils by valiant kings achieved,
And groaning nations by their arms relieved;
The wounds of patriots in their country's cause,
And happy power sustain'd by wholesome laws;
In comely rank call every merit forth,
Imprint on every act its standard worth;
The glorious parallels then downward bring
To modern wonders, and to Britain's king:
With equal justice and historic care,
Their laws, their toils, their arms, with his compare ;
Confess the various attributes of Fame
Collected and complete in William's name;
To all the listening world relate,
(As thou dost his story read)
That nothing went before so great,
And nothing greater can succeed.
Thy native Latium was thy darling care,
Prudent in peace, and terrible in war;
The boldest virtues that have govern'd earth,
From Latium's fruitful womb derive their birth.
Then turn to her fair written page,
From dawning childhood to establish'd age,
The glories of her empire trace,
Confront the heroes of thy Roman race,
And let the justest palm the victor's temples grace.
The son of Mars reduced the trembling swains,
And spread his empire o'er the distant plains;
But yet the Sabins' violated charms
Obscured the glory of his rising arms.
Numa the rights of strict religion knew,
On every altar laid the incense due;
Unskill'd to dart the pointed spear,
Or lead the forward youth to noble war.
Stern Brutus was with too much horror good,
Holding his fasces stain'd with filial blood.
Fabius was wise, but with excess of care,
He saved his country, but prolonged the war;
While Decius, Paulus, Curius, greatly fought,
And by their strict examples taught
How wild desires should be controll'd
And how much brighter virtue was than gold;
They scarce their swelling thirst of fame could hide,
And boasted poverty with too much pride.
Excess in youth made Scipio less revered;
And Cato, dying, seem'd to own he feared.
Julius with honour tamed Rome's foreign foes;
But patriots fell, ere the Dictator rose:
And while with clemency Augustus reign'd,
The monarch was adored, the city chain'd.
With justest honour be their merits dress'd,
But be their failings, too, confess'd:
Their virtue, like their Tyber's flood,
Rolling its course, design'd the country's good;
But oft the torrent's too impetuous speed
From the low earth tore some polluting weed
And with the blood of Jove there always ran
Some viler part, some tincture of the man.
Few virtues after these so far prevail,
But that their vices more than turn the scale;
Valour grown wild by pride, and power by rage,
Did the true charms of majesty impair;
Rome, by degrees, advancing more in age,
Show'd sad remains of what had once been fair,
Till Heaven a better race of men supplies,
And glory shoots new beams from western skies.
Turn then to Pharamond and Charlemain,
And the long heroes of the Gallic strain;
Experienced chiefs, for hardy prowess known,
And bloody wreaths in venturous battles won.
From the first William, our great Norman king,
The bold Plantagenets and Tudors bring
Illustrious virtues, who by turns have rose
In foreign fields to check Britannia's foes;
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