Epode VI.
Against Cassius Severus, a rerevileful and wanton Poet.
Thou village-cur! why dost thou bark at me?
A wolf might come, and go, for thee.
At me thou open'st wide, and think'st that I
Will bark with thee for company.
I'm of another kind, and bravely dare
(Like th' mastiff) watch my flock with care:
Dare hunt through snow, and seize that savage beast
That might my darling folds molest:
Thou (only in the noise thou mak'st) robust
10Leav'st off the chase; leap'st at a crust,
But have a care! for if I vent my spleen,
I (for a shift) can make thee grin:
I'll make thee (if iambics once I sing)
To die, like Bupalus, in a string.
When any man insults o'er me, shall I
Put finger in mine eye and cry?
Epode X. Against Maevius, a Poet.
And art thou shipp'd, friend Doggerel!—get thee gone,
Thou pest of Helicon.
Now for an hurricane to bang thy sides,
Curst wood, in which he rides!
An east-wind tear thy cables, crack thy oars,
While every billow roars.
With such a wind let all the Ocean swell
As wafted Noll to Hell:
No friendly star o'er all the Sea appear
10While thou be'st there;
Nor kinder destiny there mayst thou meet
Than the proud Grecian Fleet,
When Pallas did their Admiral destroy
Return'd from ruin'd Troy.
Methinks I see the mariners faint, and thee
Look somewhat scurvily:
Thou call'st on Jove, as if great Jove had time
To mind thy Grub-street Rhyme,
When the proud waves their heads to Heav'n do rear
20Himself scarce free from fear:
Well! If the Gods should thy wreck'd carcase share
To beasts or fowls of th' air,
I'll sacrifice to them, that they may know
I can be civil too.
X. 7 The great storm of September 2, 1658, the day before Cromwell's death.
18 Marvell in 1678, and Otway in The Atheist, 1684, first mentioned the vicus infaustus which humour (or the want of it) renamed 'Milton' Street, from the proximity of Bunhill Fields.
Epode XI. To Pettius his Chamber-fellow.
Ah, Pettius! I have done with Poetry,
I've parted with my liberty
For Cupid's slavery.
Cupid, that peevish God, has singled out
Me, from among the rhyming rout,
For boys and girls to flout:
December now has thrice stript every tree,
Since bright Inachia's tyranny
Has laid its chains on me.
10Now fie upon me! all about the town
My Miss I treated up and down,
I for a squire was known.
Lord, what a whelp was I! to pule and whine,
To sigh, to sob, and to repine!
For thy sake, Mistress mine!
Thou didst my verse, and thou my Muse despise,
My want debas'd me in thine eyes.
Thou wealth, not wit, didst prize.
Fuddled with wine and love my secrets flew,
20Stretch'd on those racks, I told thee true
What did myself undo.
Well!—plague me not too much, imperious dame,
Lest I blaspheme thy charming name,
And quench my former flame.
I can give others place, and see thee die
Damn'd with their prodigality,
If I set on't, so stout am I.
Thou know'st, my friend, thus have I often said,
When, by her sorceries misled,
30Thou bad'st me home to bed:
Ev'n then my practice gave my tongue the lie,
I could not her curst house pass by:
I fear'd, but could not fly.
Since that, for young Lyciscus I'm grown mad;
Inachia such a face ne'er had,
It is a lovely lad.
From his embraces I shall ne'er get free,
Nor friends' advice, nor infamy
Can disentangle me:
40Yet if some brighter object I should spy,
That might perhaps debauch my eye,
And shake my constancy.
Epode XV. To his Sweetheart Neaera.
It was a lovely melancholy night;
The Moon, and every star shone bright;
When thou didst swear thou wouldst to me be true,
And do as I would have thee do:
False woman! round my neck thy arms did twine,
Inseparable as the elm and vine:
Then didst thou swear thy passion should endure
To me alone sincere and pure,
Till sheep and wolves should quit their enmity,
10And not a wave disturb the sea.
Treacherous Neaera! I have been too kind,
But Flaccus can draw off, thou'lt find;
He can that face (as thou dost him) forswear,
And find (it may be) one as fair:
And let me tell thee, when my fury's mov'd,
I hate devoutly, as I lov'd.
But thou, blest gamester, whosoe'er thou be
That proudly dost my drudgery,
Didst thou abound in numerous flocks, and land,
20Wert heir to all Pactolus' sand;
Though in thy brain thou bor'st Pythagoras,
And carried'st Nereus in thy face,
She'd pick another up, and shab thee off,
And then 'twill be my turn to laugh.
XV. 23 'Shab off' seems to be still provincially used both in the intransitive sense 'sneak off' and in the transitive as here 'bundle off.'
Epode XVII. To Canidia.
I yield, Canidia, to thy art,
Take pity on a penitent heart:
By Proserpine, Queen of the Night,
And by Diana's glimmering light,
By the mysterious volumes all,
That can the stars from Heaven call;
By all that's sacred I implore
Thou to my wits wouldst me restore.
The brave Achilles did forgive
10King Telephus, and let him live,
Though in the field the King appear'd,
And war with Mysian bands prepar'd.
When on the ground dead Hector lay,
Expos'd, to birds and beasts a prey;
The Trojan Dames in pity gave
Hector an honourable grave.
Ulysses's mariners were turn'd to swine,
Transform'd by Circe's charms divine;
Yet Circe did their doom revoke,
20And straight the grunting mortals spoke:
Each in his pristine shape appears,
Fearless of dogs to lug their ears.
Oh! do not my affliction scorn!
Enough in conscience I have borne!
My youth and fresh complexion's gone,
Dwindled away to skin and bone.
My hair is powd'red by thy care,
And all my minutes busy are.
Day Night, and Night the Day does chase,
30Yet have not I a breathing space!
Wretch that I am! I now believe,
No pow'r can from thy charms reprieve:
Now I confess thy magic can
Reach head and heart, and unman man.
What wouldst thou have me say? what more?
O Seas! O Earth! I scorch all o'er!
Hercules himself ne'er burnt like me,
Nor th' flaming Mount in Sicily:
O cease thy spells, lest I be soon
40Calcin'd into a pumice-stone!
When wilt th' ha' done? What must I pay?
But name the sum, and I obey:
Say: Wilt thou for my ransom take
An hecatomb? or shall I make
A bawdy song t'advance thy trade,
Or court thee with a serenade?
Wouldst thou to Heav'n, and be a star?
I'll hire thee Cassiopeia's Chair.
Castor, to Helen a true friend,
50Struck her defaming poet blind;
Yet he, good-natur'd gentleman,
Gave the blind bard his eyes again.
Since this, and much more thou canst do,
O rid me of my madness too!
From noble ancestors thy race,
No vulgar blood purples thy face:
Thou searchest not the graves of th' poor,
But necromancy dost abhor:
Gen'rous thy breast, and pure thy hands,
60Whose fruitful womb shall people lands,
And ere thy childbed-linen's clean,
Thou shall be up and to't again.
Canidia's Answer.
Go—hang thyself:—I will not hear,
The rocks as soon shall lend an ear
To naked mariners that be
Left to the mercy of the Sea.
Marry come up!—Shall thy bold pride
The mysteries of the Gods deride?
Presumptuous fool! commit a rape
On my repute, and think to 'scape!
Make me a town-talk? Well! ere thou die
10Cupid shall vengeance take; or I.
Go, get some ratsbane!—'twill not do,
Nay, drink some aqua-fortis too:
No witch shall take thy life away;
Who dares say, Go, when I bid Stay?
No!—I'll prolong thy loathed breath,
And make thee wish in vain for death.
In vain does Tantalus espy
Fruits, he may taste but with his eye.
In vain does poor Prometheus groan,
20And Sisyphus stop his rolling stone:
Long may they sigh, long may they cry,
But not control their destiny.
And thou in vain from some high wall
Or on thy naked sword mayst fall,
In vain (to terminate thy woes)
Thy hands shall knit the fatal noose:
For on thy shoulders then I'll ride,
And make the Earth shake with my pride.
Think'st thou that I, who when I please
30Can kill by waxen images,
Can force the Moon down from her sphere,
And make departed ghosts appear,
And mix love-potions!—thinks thy vanity,
I cannot deal with such a worm as thee?
Finis.