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The FOURTH EPISTLE of the FIRST Book of

HORACE'S EPISTLES *.

A MODERN IMITATION.

SAY+, St. John, who alone perufe

With candid eye, the mimic Muse,
What schemes of politics, or laws,
In Gallic lands the patriot draws!
Is then a greater work in hand,

Than all the tomes of Haines's band?
"Or fhoots he folly as it flies?
"Or catches manners as they rife?"
Or, urg'd by unquench'd native heat,
Does St. John Greenwich sports repeat?
Where (emulous of Chartres' fame)
Ev'n Chartres' felf is fcarce a name.

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*This fatire on Lord Bolingbroke, and the praise bestowed on him in a letter to Mr. Richardson, where Mr. Pope fays

"The fons fhall blush their fathers were his foes;" being fo contradictory, probably occafioned the former to be fuppreffed. S.

Ad ALBIUM TIBULLUM.

+ Albi, noftrorum fermonum candide judex, Quid nunc te dicam facere in regione Pedana ? Scribere, quod Caffi Parmenfis opufcula vincat ? An tacitam filvas inter reptare falubres ?

Το

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To you (th' all-envy'd gift of Heaven)
Th' indulgent gods, unask'd, have given
A form complete in every part,

And, to enjoy that gift, the art.

What could a tender mother's care
Wish better, to her favourite heir,
Than wit, and fame, and lucky hours,
A ftock of health, and golden fhowers,
And graceful fluency of speech,
Precepts before unknown to teach?

Amidst thy various ebbs of fear;
And gleaming hope, and black despair,
Yet let thy friend this truth impart,
A truth I tell with bleeding heart,
(In justice for your labours past)
That every day shall be your last;
That every hour you life renew
Is to your injur'd country due.

In fpight of fears, of mercy fpight,
My genius ftill must rail, and write.

Di tibi formam,
Di tibi divitias dederant, artemque fruendi.
+ Quid voveat dulci nutricula majus alumno,
Quam fapere, & fari poffet quæ fentiat, & cui
Gratia, fama, valetudo contingat abunde,
non deficiente crumena ?

Inter fpem, curamque, timores inter & iras.
| Omnem crede diem tibi diluxiffe fupremum.
Me pinguem, & nitidum bene curata cute vifes,
Cum ridere voles Epicuri de grege porcum.

Bb 2

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Hafte

Hafte to thy Twickenham's fafe retreat,

And mingle with the grumbling great :
There, half devour'd by fpleen, you'll find
The rhyming bubbler of mankind;
There (objects of our mutual hate)
We'll ridicule both church and ftate,

CON

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