distance of twenty-four years, from the time when I departed from under his tuition.
This fatire confifts of two diftin&t parts: the first con
tains the praises of the ftoick philofopher Cornutus, mafter and tutor to our Perfius. It alfo declares the love and piety of Perfius, to his well-deferving master; and the mutual friendship which continued betwixt them, after Perfius was now grown a man. As also his exhortation to young noblemen, that they would enter themselves into his inftitution. From whence he makes an artful transition into the fecond part of his fubject: wherein he first complains of the floth of scholars, and afterwards perfuades them to the pursuit of their true liberty: Here our author excellently treats that paradox of the Stoicks, which affirms, that only the wife or virtuous man is free; and that all vicious men are naturally flaves. And, in the illuftration of this dogma, he takes up the remaining part of this inimitable fatire.
Infcribed to the Reverend Dr. BUSBY.
The Speakers PERSIUS and CORNUTU S.
F ancient ufe to poets it belongs,
To with themselves an hundred mouths and
tongues :
Whether to the well lung'd tragedian's rage
They recommend the labours of the stage,
Or fing the Parthian, when transfix'd he lies,
Wrenching the Roman javelin from his thighs.
And why would'st thou these mighty morfels chufe,
Of words unchew'd, and fit to choak the Muse?
Let fustian poets, with their stuff, be gone,
And fuck the mists that hang o'er Helicon;
When Progne or Thyeftes' feast they write;
And, for the mouthing actor, verse indite.
Thou neither, like a bellows, fwell'st thy face,
As if thou wert to blow the burning mafs
Of melting ore; nor canst thou strain thy throat,
Or murmur in an undistinguish'd note,
Like rolling thunder till it breaks the cloud,
And rattling nonfenfe is discharg'd aloud.
Soft elocution does thy ftyle renown,
And the sweet accents of the peaceful gown :
Another shakes the bed, diffolving there,
Till knots upon his gouty joint appear,
And chalk is in his crippled fingers found;
Rots like a doddard oak, and piecemeal falls to ground;
Then his lewd follies he would late repent;
And his past years, that in a mift were spent.
PERSIUS.
But thou art pale, in nightly ftudies, grown,
To make the ftoick inftitutes thy own:
Thou long with ftudious care haft till'd our youth,
And fown our well-purg'd ears with wholesome truth.
From thee both old and young, with profit, learn
The bounds of good and evil to difcern.
CORNUTUS.
Unhappy he who does this work adjourn,
And to to-morrow would the fearch delay :
His lazy morrow will be like to-day.
But is one day of eafe too much to borrow?
CORNUTUS.
Yes, fure for yesterday was once to-morrow.
That yesterday is gone, and nothing gain'd:
And all thy fruitless days will thus be drain'd;
For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask,
And wilt be ever to begin thy task;
Who, like the hindmoft chariot-wheels, art curst,
Still to be near, but ne'er to reach the first.
O freedom! first delight of human kind!
Not that which bondmen from their masters find,
The privilege of doles: not yet t' infcribe
Their names in this or t' other Roman tribe :
That falfe enfranchisement with eafe is found:
Slaves are made citizens, by turning round.
How, replies one, can any be more free?
Here 's Dama, once a groom of low degree,
Not worth a farthing, and a fot befide;
So true a rogue, for lying's fake he ly'd;
But, with a turn, a freeman he became;
Now Marcus Dama is his worthip's name.
Good Gods who would refuse to lend a fum,
If wealthy Marcus furety will become!
Marcus is made a judge, and for a proof
Of certain truth, He faid, it is enough.
A will is to be prov'd; put in your claim;
'Tis clear, if Mareus has fubfcrib'd his name.
This is true liberty, as I believe :
What can we farther from our caps receive,
Than 'as we please without control to live?
Not more to noble Brutus could belong.
Hold, fays the ftoick, your affumption 's wrong:
I grant, true freedom you have well defin'd:
But, living as you lift, and to your mind,
And loosely tack'd, all must be left behind.
What, fince the prætor did my fetters loole,
And left me freely at my own dispose,
May I not live without control and awe,
Excepting ftill the letter of the law?
Hear me with patience while thy mind I free
From thofe fond notions of falfe liberty:
'Tis not the prætor's province to bestow
True freedom; nor to teach mankind to know
What to ourselves, or to our friends, we owe.
He could not fet thee free from cares and ftrife,
Nor give the reins to a lewd vicious life:
As well he for an afs a harp might string,
Which is against the reason of the thing;
For reafon still is whispering in your ear,
Where you are fure to fail, th' attempt forbear.
No need of public fanctions this to bind,
Which Nature has implanted in the mind:
Not to pursue the work, to which we 're not design'd.
Unfkill'd in hellebore, if thou should'st try
To mix it, and mistake the quantity,
The rules of physic would against thee cry.
The high-fhoe'd ploughman, should he quit the land,
To take the pilot's rudder in his hand,
Artless of stars, and of the moving fand,
The gods would leave him to the waves and wind,
And think all fhame was loft in human kind.
Tell me, my friend, from whence hadft thou the
So nicely to distinguish good from ill-?'
Or by the found to judge of gold and brafs,
What piece is tinker's metal, what will pass?
And what thou art to follow, what to fly,
This to condemn, and that to ratify?
When to be bountiful, and when to fpare,
But never craving, or opprest with care?
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