I give thee, therefore, counsel wise;
Confide not vainly in thy store,
However large— much less despise
Others comparatively poor;

But in thy more exalted state

A just and equal temper show,

That all who see thee rich and great
May deem thee worthy to be so.

ON

PALLAS, BATHING,

FROM A HYMN OF CALIMACHUS.

NOR oils of balmy scent produce, Nor mirror for Minerva's use, Ye nymphs who lave her; she, array'd In genuine beauty scorns their aid. Not even when they left the skies To seek on Ida's head the prize From Paris' hand, did Juno deign, Or Pallas in the crystal plain

Of Simois' stream her locks to trace, Or in the mirror's polished face, Though Venus oft with anxious care Adjusted twice a single hair.

TO DEMOSTHENES.

Ir flatters and deceives thy view,
This mirror of ill polish'd ore;

For were it just, and told thee true,
Thou wouldst consult it never more,

ON A

SIMILAR CHARACTER.

You give your cheeks a rosy stain,
With washes dye your hair,

But paint and washes both are vain
To give a youthful air.

Those wrinkles mock your daily toil,
No labour will efface 'em,
You wear a mask of smoothest oil,
Yet still with ease we trace 'em.

An art so fruitless then forsake,

Which though you much excel in,

You never can contrive to make
Qld Hecuba young Helen.

ON AN UGLY FELLOW.

BEWARE, my friend! of crystal brook,
Or fountain, lest that hideous hook,
Thy nose, thou chance to see;
Narcissus' fate would then be thine,
And self-detested thou wouldst pine,
As self-enamour'd he.

ON A

BATTERED BEAUTY.

HAIR, wax, rouge, honey, teeth, you buy,

A multifarious store!

A mask at once would all supply,
Nor would it cost you more.

ON A THIEF.

WHEN Aulus, the nocturnal thief, made prize Of Hermes, swift-wing'd envoy of the skies, Hermes, Arcadia's king, the thief divine, Who, when an infant, stole Apollo's kine, And whom, as arbiter and overseer Of our gymnastic sports, we planted here; 'Hermes," he cried, "you meet no new disaster; "Ofttimes the pupil goes beyond his master."

ON PEDIGREE.

FROM EPICHARMUS.

My mother, if thou love me, name no more
My noble birth! Sounding at every breath
My noble birth, thou kill'st me. Thither fly,
As to their only refuge, all from whom
Nature withholds all good besides; they boast
Their noble birth, conduct us to the tombs
Of their forefathers, and from age to age
Ascending, trumpet their illustrious race :
But whom hast thou beheld, or canst thou name,
Deriv'd from no forefather? Such a man

Lives not; for how could such be born at all?
And if it chance, that native of a land
Far distant, or in infancy depriv'd

Of all his kindred, one, who cannot trace
His origin, exist, why deem him sprung
From baser ancestry than theirs, who can ?
My mother! he, whom nature at his birth
Endow'd with virtuous qualities, although
An Æthiop and a slave, is nobly born.

ON ENVY.

PITY, says the Theban bard,
From my wishes I discard;

Cc

Envy, let me rather be,

Rather far a theme for thee!
Pity to distress is shown,
Envy to the great alone-
So the Theban-But to shine
Less conspicuous be mine!
I prefer the golden mean
Pomp and penury between;
For alarm and peril wait
Ever on the loftiest state,
And the lowest, to the end,
Obloquy and scorn attend.

BY PHILEMON.

OFT we enhance our ills by discontent, And give them bulk, beyond what nature meant. A parent, brother, friend deceas'd, to cry— "He's dead indeed, but he was born to die" Such temperate grief is suited to the size And burthen of the loss; is just and wise. But to exclaim, "Ah! wherefore was I born, "Thus to be left, for ever thus forlorn?" Who thus laments his loss, invites distress, And magnifies a wo that might be less, Through dull despondence to his lot resign'd, And leaving reason's remedy behind.