Preach this among the brawny guards, fay'st thou, And see if they thy doctrine will allow : The dull fat captain, with a hound's deep throat, Would bellow out a laugh, in a base note ; And prize a hundred Zeno's just as much As à clipt fixpence, or a fchilling Dutch.

a

THIS fixth satire treats an admirable common-place

of moral philosophy; of the true use of riches. They certainly are intended, by the power who bestows them, as instruments and helps of living commodiously ourselves; and of administering to the wants of others, who are oppressed by fortune. There are two extremes in the opinions of men concerning them. One error, though on the right hand, yet a great one, is, that they are no helps to a virtuous life ; the other places all our happiness in the acquisition and possession of them; and this is, undoubtedly, the worse extreme. The menn betwixt these, is the opinion of the Stoicks; which is, that riches may be useful to the leading

:

a virtuous life; in case we rightly understand how to give according to right reason; and how to receive what is given us by others. The virtue of giving. well, is called liberality: and it is of this virtue that Perfius writes in this satire ; wherein he not only shews the lawful use of riches, but also Mharply inveighs against the vices which are opposed to it; and especially of those, which confift in the defects of giving or spending; or in the abuse of riches. He writes to Cæfius Bassus his friend, and a poet alfo. Enquires first of his health and studies; and afterwards informs him of his own, and where he is now resident. He gives an account of himself, that he is endeavouring, by little and little, to wear off his vices ; and particularly, that he is combating ambition, and the desire of wealth. He dwells upon the latter vice : and, being sensible that few men either defire or use riches as they

ought, he endeavours to convince them of their ** folly ; which is the main design of the whole fatire,

:

T H E SI X TH SAT I R E.

TO CÆSIUS BASSUS, A LYRIC POET.

HA

AS winter caus'd thee, friend, to change thy seat,

And seek in. Sabine air a warm retreat? Say, dost thou yet the Roman harp command? Do the strings answer to thy noble hand ?

Gro

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Great master of the Mufe, inspir'd to fing
The beauties of the firf-created spring i
The pedigree of Nature to rehearse,
And found the Maker's work, in equal verse.
Now sporting on thy lyre the loves of youth,
Now virtuous age, and venerable truth;
Expressing juftly Sappho's wanton art
Of odes, and Pindar's more majestic part,

For me, my wariner constitution wants
More cold, than our Ligurian yįnter grants i
And therefore, to my native shores retir'd,
I view the coast old Ennius once admir'd;
Where clifts on either sides their points display ;
And, after, opening in an ampler way,
Afford the pleasing prospect of the bay.
'Tis worth your while, o Romans, to regard
The port of Luna says our learned Bard;
Who in a drunken dream beheld his soul
The fifth within the transmigrating roll;
Which first a peacock, then Euphorbus was,
Then Homer next, and next Pythagoras ;
And last of all the line did into Ennius pars.

Secure and free from business of the state,
And more secure of what the vulgar prate,
Here I enjoy my private thoughts; nor care
What rots for sheep the southern winds prepare :
Survey the neighbouring fields, anı! not repine,
When I behold a larger crop than mine :
o see a beggar's brat in riches flow,

dist a wrinkle to my even brow;

Nor,

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Nor, envious at the fight, will I forbear
My plenteous bowl, nor bate my bounteous cheer.
Nor

yet unseal the dregs of wine that stinks
Of cask ; nor in a nasty flaggon drink;
Let others stuff their guts with homely fare ;
For men of different inclinations are;
Though born perhaps beneath one common star.
In minds and manners twins oppos'd we fee
In the same sign, almost the same degree :
One, frugal, on his birth-day fears to dine;
Does at a penny's cost in herbs repine,
And hardly dares to dip his fingers in the brine.
Prepar'd as prieft of his own rites to stand,
He fprinklus pepper with a tparing hand.
Ilis jolly brother, opposite in fense,
Laughs at his thrift; and, lavish of expence,
Quaffs, crams, and guttles, in his own detence.

For me, I'll use my own; and take iny fhare ;
Yet will not turbois for

my faves

prepare;
Nor be to nice in tate myíelf to know
If what I swallow be a thrush, or no.
Live on thy annual income; spend thy store ;
And freely grind, from thy full threshing-toor ;
Next harveit promises as much, or more.
Thus I would live: but friendship's holy band,
And offices of kindness, hold my hand :
My friend is thipwreck'd on the Brutian strand,
His riches in thi’lonian main are loft ;
And lie hintelf itanus shivering on the coast;

Whe

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