The bargeman and a passenger,
Each in his turn, essayed an air
In honour of his absent fair.
At length the passenger, oppressed
With wine, left off, and snored the rest.
The weary bargeman too gave o'er,
And hearing his companion snore,
Seized the occasion, fixed the barge,
Turned out his mule to graze at large,
And slept forgetful of his charge.

And now the sun o'er eastern hill Discovered that our barge stood still; When one, whose anger vexed him sore, With malice fraught, leaps quick on shore,

Plucks up a stake, with many a thwack Assails the mule and driver's back.

Then slowly moving on with pain, At ten Feronia's stream we gain, And in her pure and glassy wave Our hands and faces gladly lave. Climbing three miles, fair Anxur's height We reach, with stony quarries white.

While here, as was agreed, we wait, Till, charged with business of the state, Mecenas and Cocceius come (The messengers of peace) from Rome, My eyes, by watery humours blear And sore, I with black balsam smear. At length they join us, and with them Our worthy friend Fonteius came; A man of such complete desert, Antony loved him at his heart. At Fundi we refused to bait, And laughed at vain Aufidius' state, A prætor now, a scribe before, The purple-bordered robe he wore, His slave the smoking censer bore. Tired, at Muræna's we repose, At Formia sup at Capito's.

With smiles the rising morn we greet, At Sinuessa pleased to meet With Plotius, Varius, and the bard Whom Mantua first with wonder heard. The world no purer spirits knows, For none my heart more warmly glows. Oh! what embraces we bestowed, And with what joy our breasts o'erflowed! Sure while my sense is sound and clear, Long as I live, I shall prefer A gay, good-natured, easy friend, To every blessing Heaven can send.

At a small village, the next night, Near the Vulturnus, we alight; Where, as employed on state affairs, We were supplied by the purveyors Frankly at once, and without hire, With food for man and horse, and fire. Capua next day betimes we reach, Where Virgil and myself, who each Laboured with different maladies, His such a stomach, mine such eyes, As would not bear strong exercise, In drowsy mood to sleep resort; Mæcenas to the tennis-court. Next at Cocceius' farm we're treated, Above the Caudian tavern seated; His kind and hospitable board With choice of wholesome food was stored.

Now, O ye Nine, inspire my lays! To nobler themes my fancy raise! Two combatants, who scorn to yield The noisy, tongue-disputed field, Sarmentus and Cicirrus, claim A poet's tribute to their fame; Cicirrus of true Oscian breed, Sarmentus, who was never freed, But ran away. We won't defame him; His lady lives, and still may claim him. Thus dignified, in harder fray These champions their keen wit display, And first Sarmentus led the way. "Thy locks," quoth he, “so rough and

coarse,

Look like the mane of some wild horse." We laugh: Cicirrus undismayed, "Have at you!" cries, and shakes his head.

""Tis well," Sarmentus says, "you've lost

That horn your forehead once could boast;

Since maimed and mangled as you are,
You seem to butt." A hideous scar
Improved ('tis true) with double grace
The native horrors of his face.
Well; after much jocosely said
Of his grim front, so fiery red,
(For carbuncles had blotched it o'er,
As usual on Campania's shore,)
"Give us," he cried, since you're so

big,

A sample of the Cyclops' jig!

C

Your shanks methinks no buskins ask,
Nor does your phiz require a mask.”
To this Cicirrus: "In return
Of you, sir, now I fain would learn,
When 'twas, no longer deemed a slave,
Your chains you to the Lares gave.
For though a scrivener's right you claim,
Your lady's title is the same.
But what could make you run away,
Since, pigmy as you are, each day
A single pound of bread would quite
O'erpower your puny appetite?"
Thus joked the champions, while we
laughed,

And many a cheerful bumper quaffed.
To Beneventum next we steer;
Where our good host by over care
In roasting thrushes lean as mice
Had almost fallen a sacrifice.
The kitchen soon was all on fire,
And to the roof the flames aspire.
There might you see each man and

master

Striving, amidst this sad disaster,

To save the supper. Then they came
With speed enough to quench the flame.
From hence we first at distance see
The Apulian hills, well known to me,
Parched by the sultry western blast;
And which we never should have past,
Had not Trivicus by the way
Received us at the close of day.
But each was forced at entering here
To pay the tribute of a tear,

For more of smoke than fire was seen,
The hearth was piled with logs so green.

From hence in chaises we were carried
Miles twenty-four, and gladly tarried
At a small town, whose name my verse
(So barbarous is it) can't rehearse.
Know it you may by many a sign,
Water is dearer far than wine.
There bread is deemed such dainty fare,
That every prudent traveller
His wallet loads with many a crust;
For at Canusium, you might just
As well attempt to gnaw a stone
As think to get a morsel down.
That too with scanty streams is fed;
Its founder was brave Diomed.

Good Varius (ah, that friends must part!)
Here left us all with aching heart.
At Rubi we arrived that day,
Well jaded by the length of way,
And sure poor mortals ne'er were wetter.
Next day no weather could be better;
No roads so bad; we scarce could crawl
Along to fishy Barium's wall.

The Egnatians next, who by the rules
Of common sense are knaves or fools,
Made all our sides with laughter heave,
Since we with them must needs believe,
That incense in their temples burns,
And without fire to ashes turns.
To circumcision's bigots tell
Such tales! for me, I know full well,
That in high heaven, unmoved by care,
The gods eternal quiet share:

Nor can I deem their spleen the cause
Why fickle Nature breaks her laws.
Brundusium last we reach and there
Stop short the Muse and Traveller.

Beckoned my boy, and pulled him near, And whispered nothing in his ear.

Teased with his loose unjointed chat, "What street is this? What house is that?"

O Harlow! how I envied thee
Thy unabashed effrontery,

Who darest a foe with freedom blame,
And call a coxcomb by his name!
When I returned him answer none,
Obligingly the fool ran on,
"I see you're dismally distressed,
Would give the world to be released,
But, by your leave, sir, I shall still
Stick to your skirts, do what you will.
Pray which way does your journey tend?"
"Oh! 'tis a tedious way, my friend,
Across the Thames, the Lord knows
where:

I would not trouble you so far.
"Well, I'm at leisure to attend you."-
"Are you?" thought I, "the De'il
befriend you!"

No ass with double panniers racked,
Oppressed, o'erladen, broken-backed,
E'er looked a thousandth part so dull
As I, nor half so like a fool.
"Sir, I know little of myself,"
Proceeds the pert conceited elf,
"If Gray or Mason you will deem
Than me more worthy your esteem.
Poems I write by folios,

As fast as other men write prose.
Then I can sing so loud, so clear,
That Beard cannot with me compare.
In dancing, too, I all surpass,

Not Cooke can move with such a grace."

Here I made shift, with much ado,
To interpose a word or two.-
"Have you no parents, sir? No friends,
Whose welfare on your own depends?"
"Parents, relations, say you? No.
They're all disposed of long ago.'
"Happy to be no more perplexed!
My fate too threatens,
go next.

Dispatch me, sir, 'tis now too late,
Alas! to struggle with my fate!
Well, I'm convinced my time is come.
When young, a gipsy told my doom;
The beldame shook her palsied head,
As she perused my palm, and said,

'Of poison, pestilence, or war, Gout, stone, defluxion, or catarrh, You have no reason to beware. Beware the coxcomb's idle prate; Chiefly, my son, beware of that; Be sure, when you behold him, fly Out of all earshot, or you die!"""

To Rufus' Hall we now drew near, Where he was summoned to appear, Refute the charge the plaintiff brought, Or suffer judgment by default. "For Heaven's sake, if you love me, wait One moment! I'll be with you straight." Glad of a plausible pretence—

Sir, I must beg you to dispense With my attendance in the court. My legs will surely suffer for't.""Nay, prithee, Carlos, stop awhile!" "Faith, sir, in law I have no skill. Besides, I have no time to spare, I must be going, you know where.""Well, I protest, I'm doubtful now, Whether to leave my suit or you!"."Me, without scruple!" I reply, "Me, by all means, sir!"-"No, not I. Allons, Monsieur!" 'Twere vain, you To strive with a victorious foe. [know, So I reluctantly obey,

And follow where he leads the way.

"You and Newcastle are so close; Still hand and glove, sir, I suppose?" "Newcastle (let me tell you, sir,) Has not his equal everywhere." "Well. There indeed your fortune's made!

Faith, sir, you understand your trade.
Would you but give me your good word!
Just introduce me to my lord.
I should serve charmingly by way
Of second fiddle, as they say:
What think you, sir? 'twere a good jest.
'Slife, we should quickly scout the
rest."-

"Sir, you mistake the matter far,
We have no second fiddles there.
Richer than I some folks may be:
More learned, but it hurts not me.
Friends though he has of different kind,
Each has his proper place assigned."
'Strange matters these, alleged by
[true."-
"Strange they may be, but they are

66

you!"

C 2

"Well, then, I vow, 'tis mighty clever,
Now I long ten times more than ever
To be advanced extremely near
One of his shining character."-

"Have but the will-there wants no

more,

'Tis plain enough you have the power.
His easy temper (that's the worst)
He knows, and is so shy at first.
But such a cavalier as you--

Lord, sir, you'll quickly bring him to!" 'Well; if I fail in my design,

66

Sir, it shall be no fault of mine.
If by the saucy servile tribe
Denied, what think you of a bribe?
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow,
But try my luck again to-morrow.
Never attempt to visit him
But at the most convenient time,
Attend him on each levee day,
And there my humble duty pay.
Labour, like this, our want supplies;
And they must stoop, who mean to rise."
While thus he wittingly harangued,
For which you'll guess I wished him
hanged,

Campley, a friend of mine, came by,
Who knew his humour more than I.
We stop, salute, and-"Why so fast,

Friend Carlos? whither all this haste?"
Fired at the thoughts of a reprieve,
I pinch him, pull him, twitch his sleeve,
Nod, beckon, bite my lips, wink, pout,
Do everything but speak plain out:
While he, sad dog, from the beginning,
Determined to mistake my meaning,
Instead of pitying my curse,

By jeering made it ten times worse.
"Campley, what secret, pray, was that
You wanted to communicate?"
"I recollect. But 'tis no matter.-
Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter.
E'en let the secret rest. 'Twill tell
Another time, sir, just as well."

Was ever such a dismal day?
Unlucky cur! he steals away,
And leaves me, half bereft of life,
At mercy of the butcher's knife;
When sudden, shouting from afar,
See his antagonist appear!

The bailiff seized him quick as thought. "Ho, Mr. Scoundrel! Are you caught? Sir, you are witness to the arrest."

66

Ay, marry, sir, I'll do my best." The mob huzzas; away they trudge, Culprit and all, before the judge. Meanwhile I luckily enough (Thanks to Apollo) got clear off.

Far be the thought, and far the strain,
Which breathes the low desire,
How sweet soe'er the verse complain,
Though Phoebus string the lyre.

Come then, fair maid (in nature wise),
Who, knowing them, can tell
From generous sympathy what joys
The glowing bosom swell;

PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE."

In justice to the various powers Of pleasing, which you share, Join me, amid your silent hours, To form the better prayer.

"

With lenient balm may Oberon hence
To fairy-land be driven,
With every herb that blunts the sense
Mankind received from heaven.

"Oh! if my Sovereign Author please, Far be it from my fate To live unblest in torpid ease,

And slumber on in state;

"Each tender tie of life defied,
Whence social pleasures spring:
Unmoved with all the world beside,
A solitary thing."

Some Alpine mountain wrapt in snow,
Thus braves the whirling blast,
Eternal winter doomed to know,
No genial spring to taste;

In vain warm suns their influence shed,
The zephyrs sport in vain,
He rears unchanged his barren head,
Whilst beauty decks the plain.

What though in scaly armour dressed,
Indifference may repel
The shafts of woe, in such a breast
No joy can ever dwell.

'Tis woven in the world's great plan,
And fixed by Heaven's decree,
That all the true delights of man
Should spring from Sympathy.
'Tis Nature bids, and whilst the laws
Of Nature we retain,
Our self-approving bosom draws
A pleasure from its pain.

Thus grief itself has comforts dear

The sordid never know; And ecstasy attends the tear,

When virtue bids it flow.

For when it streams from that pure

Where'er the heavenly nymph is seen,
With lustre-beaming eye,
A train, attendant on their queen,
(Her rosy chorus) fly.

The jocund Loves in Hymen's band,
With torches ever bright,

And generous Friendship hand in hand,
With Pity's watery sight.

The gentler Virtues too are joined,
In youth immortal warm,
The soft relations which combined
Give life her every charm.

The Arts come smiling in the close,
And lend celestial fire;

The marble breathes, the canvas glows,
The Muses sweep the lyre.

"Still may my melting bosom cleave
To sufferings not my own;
And still the sigh responsive heave,
Where'er is heard a groan.

"So Pity shall take Virtue's part,
Her natural ally,

And fashioning my softened heart,
Prepare it for the sky.'

This artless vow may Heaven receive,
And you, fond maid, approve;
So may your guiding angel give
Whate'er you wish or love.

So may the rosy-fingered hours
Lead on the various year,
And every joy, which now is yours,
Extend a larger sphere.

And suns to come, as round they wheel,
Your golden moments bless,
With all a tender heart can feel,
Or lively fancy guess.