THE WISH. Written by Dr. POPE Fellow of the ROYAL SOCIETY. Haec satis est orare Jovem. Hor. ——— nil Divitiae poterint regales addere majus. Id. LONDON: Printed in the Year MDCXCVII. To the Right Honourable CHARLES Lord Clifford, Grandson and Heir to Richard E. of Burlington and Cork, AND One of the Gentlemen of His Majesty's BED— CHAMBER. MY LORD, THE Honour and Respect which I had for your Lordship's Father, is not wholly unknown to you; as also, with what Condescension, Familiarity, and Kindness, he always used me. I own, those Days which I spent in his Lordship's Conversation in France, were without Comparison, the very best Part of my Life. I designed to have made my Gratitude Public; and to that End, Composed a small Treatise, and Dedicated it to him, which he not only saw, but was also pleased graciously to accept: But before I could get it Printed, he died, to the great Loss of the Public, and all good Men; but to none so much as me, for my Damage is irreparable, unless your Lordship succeeds him in his Favour to me, as you do in his Honour and Virtues, which I hope, but dare not expect. I humbly present your Lordship with this Copy of Verses, an Earnest of something of a greater Bulk, but I dare not say of a better Composition; for if the Approbation of my Friends, has not imposed upon my Credulity, and my Taste does not deceive me, this is the most kindly, and palatable Fruit, that ever my Cultivation has produced: I wish it were worthy your Acceptation; however, I hope, I am excusable, having offered to your Lordship the best of my Substance. I conclude, begging pardon for my Presumption, and praying Heaven to continue, and increase the Felicities of your noble Family. I am, My LORD, your Lordship's most humble, and obedient Servant W. POPE. THE PROLOGUE TO THE WISH; Being a Parafrase on these Verses of Horace. QUid dedicatum poscit Apollinem Vates, quid orat? de patera novum Fundens Liquorem? Hor. Ode 31. Lib. 1. Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia Rivus, Quem Mandela bibit, Rugosus frigore Pagus. Quid sentire putas? Quid credis Amice precari? Id. Ep. 18. Lib. 1. That is, When Poets offering at Apollo's Shrine, Out of the sacred Goblets pour new Wine, What do they wish? what do they then desire? When I'm at Epsom, or on Bansted▪ Down, Free from the Wine, and Smoke, and Noise o'th' Town, When I those Water's drink, and breathe that Air, What are my Thoughts? what's my continual Prayer? THE WISH. I. IF I live to be Old, ¹ for I find I go ² down, Let this be my Fate. In a ³ Country Town, May I have a warm House▪ with a ⁴ Stone at the Gate, And a ⁵ cleanly young Girl▪ to rub my bald Pate. CHORUS. May I govern my ⁶ Passion with an absolute Sway, And grow ⁷ Wiser, and Better as my Strength wears away, Without Gout, or Stone, by a gentle decay. Krom en stijf, van Ouderdom gheboghen. Crooked, and stiff, and bowed with Age. ¹ La lunga Eta m' imbianchi il Crine, E la Vecchiezza pur in'incurvi, e prema. Petr. Vedendo la notte, e'l verno a tato. E dopo le Spalle, i mesi Gai. 1. Petr. That is, With Snowy Hairs, Temples with Furrows ploughed, And by the Weight of Years, my Body bowed. Winter, and an eternal Night comes on, And all my merry Years, and Days are gone. ² Labuntur anni, nec pietas moram Rugis, & instanti senectae Afferet, indomitaeque morti. Hor. Ocyor Cervis, & agente Ventos Ocyor Euro. Id. That is Years fly away, nor can our Piety stop The approach of wrinkled Age, and certain Death, Swifter than Hearts, or Wind. Ocyor & Caeli flammis, & Tigride foeta. Lucan. That is Swifter than Lightning, and Tigers new with young. Son giunto all loco, Ove vita scende, chi all sin cade. Petr. Sondo Jo cola giunto ove declina. L' Etate omai cadente, a la vecchiezza. Id. La vita fugge, e non s' arresta un' hora, E la Morte vien dietro a gram giornate. Id. Morte gia per ferir have alzato il brachio, Per l'estre megiornate del mia vita. Rotto da gli anni, e d'ul camino stanco. Id. Volan l' hore, e i giorni, egli anni, e i mesi, E con brevissimo intervallo, Habbiamo a cercar altri paesi. Id. E bien che il giorno che la vita serra Sia force assai vicino e non previsto. Tasso. La vita fugge, e la morte e soura le Spalle. Petr. La morte s' appressa, e el viver fugge, I di miei piu leggier che nissun Cervo, Fuggon come ombre. Id. I di miei piu correnti che Saetta. Fra misery, e peccati, Se son andati e Sol morte n' aspetta. Non corpse mai si lievament all varco Di fugitivo Cervo un Leopardo. Id. Non posso il giorno che la vita serra, Antiveder per la corporea Vela, Ma variarsi il pelo. Veggio, e dentro cangiarsi ogni desire, Hor i I' me credo all tiempo de'l partire, Esser vicino: o non molto d'a Lungo. Id. Mai non usci Veltro di Catena, Ne mai Saetta, d' Arco fu mandata, Ne falcon mai d'al Ciel discese a Valle, Che non restasse a lei dietro alle Spalle. Boiardo. Falcon mai non fu si veloce Quando da'l Ciel in giu con gran ruina Viena la preda rapido e feroce. Agostini. Si presto s'en fugge e si leggiero, Ch'e tardo a seguirlo, once o'l pensiero. Q. Marini. Pui lento di molto e men Veloce Giran Turco, o Parto, da grand'ossa arcata, Da concavo mettal globo di piombo. E da racchiusa Valle il Turbo Sbocca, O da Squarciata nube il fulgor Scocca. Rondine sopra rio Vola men presta. Bracciol. Nonsi rapida mai Cerva da l'onde, Door il' Arcier attend a rivolge il pied, Ne d'avanti a Sparrier per l'arria pura, Sua salute a cercar Tortora Vola. Idem. E va men presto. Fulgore che per nube ardendo scoppia. Idem. Gns tijt gael, als cen snelle stroom. And zijn als skhymmen van een droom. Jac. Cats. Which may be thus Translated. I am thither come, Where Life makes haste down, and grows near its end In my Old Age, and with one Foot i'th' Grave, Life flies apace, and does not rest one Hour, And Death makes great Marches to overtake her With his hand listed up ready to strike. In the last Day of Life Broken with Years, and tired with the long Way. The Hours, Days, Months and Years, do swiftly pass, All of us here in a small Space of Time, Must march from hence, and other Quarters seek. I can't foresee the last Day of my Life, Although perhaps it may not be far off, Life flies away and Death treads on his Heels, Life flies, and Death comes nearer every hour, My Days are swifter than a Hart or Arrow. No Leopard ever ran so fast After a flying Bear. I can't foresee through my corporeal Veil, The precise Day whereon my Life shall end; But I perceive by my changed Hair and Thoughts, There's little distance betwixt me and Death. The fleetest Greyhound slipped after a Hare, The Arrow shot with great strength from a Bow, The Falcon stooping at his Prey i'th' air, Are Slow, if with Life's Swiftness they compare▪ Times coarse so nimble is, and light, No Leopard, nor no Thought can move so fast. Much more slow, Are Arrows sent from Turc, or Parthian Bow. Faster than Globe of Lead From Concave-Metal, or Lightning flies from Heaven; Swallows upon a River, fly more flow. Faster than a Hart, Who's seen a Huntsman, with his Gun in hand, Faster than from a Hawk, the Turtle flies To save her Life, or Lightning from the Skies: Time passes faster than the swiftest Stream, Our Life is as the Shadow of a Dream. ³ O Rus quando ego te videam? quandoque licebit Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno & inertibus horis, Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitae? That is Oh Country! when shall I retire to thee With a few Books well chose, and a true Friend, Free from the hurries which great Towns attend, Led such a Life the Gods shall envy me? ⁴ By the help whereof, I may mount my easy Pad Nag, mentioned in the Third Stanza; in the West of England, they call it an Upping-stock. 5 Quae non offendat sordibus, Hor. That is, One whose Look may not turn your Stomach. ⁶ Animum rege qui nisi paret Imperat, hunc Frenis, hunc tu compescae Catenis. That is, Over your Passions, keep a watchful hand, For if they don't obey, they will command. Lenior, & melior fiam, accedento Senecta. Hor. That is, Milder and better may I be The nearer I approach to my last Day. II. May my ¹ little House stand on the ² Side of a Hill, With an easy Descent, to a Mead, and a ³ Mill, That when I've a mind, I may bear my Boy read, In the Mill, if it reins, if it's dry, in the Mead. May I govern, etc. ¹ Parva sed apta Domus. i e. A little but convenient House. Cheto annidarmi in retirato Albergo. Senza mai paventar d' Arm od' Armati, Forze, insidie, rapine, Oltraggi, aguati. Imp. That is, In a retired and quiet Cell, From Soldiers free, and dire Effects of Arms, Thefts, Robberies, Murders, Insults, Rapes, Alarms, May I in Peace and Safety dwell. Cui siu di giunco il suol, di Can il Muro, E di fraschi, e di paglie il tetto intesto, Consumero con gioia il tempo, e le hore, E fia che Jo rida d'auer bell cerchio all meno Si non di Lauro il Crin, d'uliva il Seno. Imperiale. That is, In quiet Cottage with green Rushes paved, And walled about with Reeds together joined. Covered with Straw, or Boughs o'th' Neighbouring Trees. I could spend all my Life, in Joy, and Ease, And tho' to crown my Head no Bays I find, The Peaceful Olive shall adorn my Mind. Be ato chi in part Erme, e lontane, Chi d'al Vulgo, e dal mondo, hor ti sequestri, E'l vasto mar de le misery umane Mirando vai da quelli scogli Alpestri, Bella tranquillita, che men villain, Le belue sono, e gli animal Silvestri Che non e l'uom, men fido e men Sincero, Che quanto fera è men, tanto è piu fera. Qui non pal●hi dorati, O marmi impressi, Con pompa d'arte imitatrice appare, Ma bella di natura, erbe, cypress, Palm, Valli, boschettis, apre piu rare. Fontane a rivo rami e spesse Cantan semplici Augei note piu chiare. Che'l finto suon di lusingtuera voce, Ch' all Orecchie piacendo, al' Alman noce. Bracciolini. In English thus, Happy are they, if any such there be, Who live retired from worldly Business free, In some remote and solitary place, Sequestered from the Vulgar and the World, Who see with Scorn from the Alps snowy Tops. The immense Sea of human Misery: Oh blessed Tranquillity! Oh heavenly Life! And better Company of Beasts than men! For men less faithful are, and less sincere, The best Man comes the nearest to a Beast. Instead of Marble Pillars here are seen Tall Pyramids of Cypress always green, Then arched and gilded Roofs, the azure Sky Heaven's Canopy, yields more Delight to th' Eye. Palms, Myrtle Groves, Green Valleys, Mountains, Hills: And Springs branched into various murmuring Rills Here the untaught Bird sings his natural Song, More valuable than Sirens vocal Art, Pleasant to th' Ear, and hurtful to the Heart. ¹ Neither on the Top, or the Bottom, the best situation for a House, or a City, affording both Conveniency of Cellars, and a Descent to carry off the Waters▪ 2 It will be thought the Old Man has made a very ill Choice of a Mill to hear his Boy read in, but they who make this Objection, either know not, or at least do not consider, that Noise helps Deafness, which is incident to Old Age. That this is a Truth, both Experience and Reason evidence. I have known several, who could hear little or nothing in their Chambers, but when they were in a Coach rattling upon the Stones, heard very well. I also knew a Lady in Essex, whose Name was Tyrrel, who while she had occasion to discourse, used to beat a great Drum, without which, she could not hear at all; the Reason whereof is this, The most frequent Cause of Deafness, is the Relaxation of the Tympanum, or Drum of the Ear, which by this violent and continual Agitation of the Air, is extended, and made more Tied, and Springy, and better reflects, Sounds, like a Drum new braced. III. Near a shady ¹ Grove, and a murmuring Brook, With the Ocean at ² Distance, whereupon I may look, With a spacious Plain, without Hedge or Style, And an easy Pad-Nag, to ride out a ³ Mile. May I govern, etc. 1 Et paulum silvae super his foret. Hor. That is, And on my Land a little Tuft of Trees. Fons etiam Rivo dare nomen idoneus, ut nec Frigidior Thracum, neque purior ambiat Hebrum. Id. Et tecto vicinus Jugis Aquae Fons. Id. That is, And near my House a Spring that always flows. Labuntur altis interim ripis aquae Fontesque lymphis obstrepunt manantibus Somons quod invitet leves. Hor. — Per pronum trepidans cum murmure rivum. Id, Levis crepante lympha desilit Pede. Id. Vnde loquaces. Lymphae desiliunt. Idem. The Sense whereof is this, And a Spring fit to give a River Name Colder than it, none are in Thracia found Clearer than it, none Hebrus Hill surround. The Noise of Water tumbling down the Hills And bubbling of the Springs provoking Sleep. Runs murmuring as if it were afraid, Runs nimbly down the Hill and Music makes With ' creaking of its liquid Shoes. Waters in their Descent talking aloud. Vn Fonte ch' a bagnar invita La labbra, alto cader da un vivo sasso That is, A Clear Spring issuing from a Rock Inviting thirsty Travellers to drink. Chiara Fontana Sorgea d'un sasso, e acque fresche e dolce Spargea sovament mormorando. Pet. That is, A copious Spring pouring down from a Rock, Its Waters cold as Ice, and clear as Crystal. Il roco mormorar di lucid'onde SH' ode de una fiorita e fresca riva. That is, Upon the cool and flowery Bank of th' River We heard the hoarse Sound of the murmuring Waters. La fonte discorrea pe'l mezzo d'un Prato D'arbore antique e, e belle ombre adorno Ch'i viandanti co'l mormorin grato Aber invita, e far seco soggiorno. That is, A silver Stream Runs through the Field with shady Trees adorned, And by its gentle murmurs seems to invite The Passengers to drink, and stay all night. Quell roco suon, chi fuor discioglie Il mormorante strepitoso Rivo. That is, The hoarse Sound of the raped River. Il mormorio del Acque, Chi da'l collo vicin, di sasso in sasso, A scherzar cala, placidetta, e fresca. Imper. That is, The murmuring Noise of the cold pleasant Stream, Sporting and leaping from one Stone to another, Chiari Rivi mormorando intorno Sempre l'erbe vi fan tenere, e nove, E rendea ad Auscultator dolce concento, Rottotra picciol sassi il correr lento. Ariosto. That is, Clear murmuring Rivers pass, Filling the Vale with Flowers, Herbs and Grass, And to the Travellers, sweet Music make, When they ride Post, over the rattling Pebbles. Rive correnti di fontane vive, All caldo tiempo, giu per l'erbe fresce. Petr. That is, Rivers descending from perpetual Springs Ith' Heat o'th' Year refresh the scorched Grass. Il murmurar di liquidi Cristalli, Giu per lucidi, fresci, rivi, e snelli. Petr. That is, The murmuring Sound the liquid Crystal makes When it runs swiftly in cold lucid Streams. Da'l cavo sen d'inaccessibil rupi. Traboccar un Rio, ne la profunda Valle E cresciuto in torrente, infra quei sassi Muover con roco suon tumidi i passi. Gratiani. That is, To see a small Stream, from a hollow Rock Grown to a furious Torrent in the Vale, Move proudly, murmuring at every step. Scorrea deal verde prato, all lato manco, Vn lompido Ruscell, che dolce invita Con l'acque pure, in so l'estiva rabbia Facea de i Viandanti all arse Labbia. That is, Through the Green Field a River runs, And courteously all Travellers invites To drink its Waters, wholesome, cool, and clear, And quench their Thirst in the great heat o'th' Year. 2 Neptunum procul à terris spectare furentem. Hor. That is Safe upon Land to see the raging Sea. Jactantibus aequora ventis, E terra, magnum alterius spectare Laborem Tua sine parte pericli. Non quia vexari quemquam est jucunda voluptas, Sed quibus ipse malis careas quid cernere suave est. Lucr. That is, To him that's safe, 'tis pleasant to behold Seamen in Storms, labouring to save their Lives, Not that another's Misery affords Pleasure, The Pleasure comes from this, that we are safe. iv With Horace and ¹ Petrarch, and Two or Three more Of the best Wits that reign▪ d in the Ages before, With ² roast Mutton, rather than Uen'son or Teal, And clean, tho' course Linen at every Meal. May I govern, etc. ¹ A famous Italian Poet, who flourished in the Thirteenth Century, he was one of the first restorers of Learning. The Author of this Wish has begun to write his Life, and designs (God willing) in a short time to publish it. ² Simple and parable Meat. Parabilem amo venerem. Hor. That is, My delight is in things easily procured. Accipe nunc victus tenuis quae quantaque secum Afferat, imprimis valeas bene, nam variae res noceant homini credas, memor illius escae Quae simplex olim tibi sederit, ut simul assis Miscueris Elixa, simul conchylia Turdis, Dulcia se in bilem vertent, stomachoque tumultum Lenta feret pituita, vides ut pallidus omnis Coena desurgat dubia, quin corpus onustum Hosternii vitiis, animum quoque praegravat una, Atque affigit humi Divinae particulam Aurae. Which may be thus Translated. Learn the Effects of spare and simple Diet, First it preserves thy Health, which various Meats Destroy, you'll grant▪ this when you call to mind How easily you digested Oxford Commons. If you mix boiled, roast, fried, and flesh with fish, Sweet things turn Choler, and Phlegm loads the Stomach. Behold how pale, how sickly they appear Who spend their Nights in Feasts, their Days in Sleep, But that's not all, the worst is yet behind, Their diseased Bodies influence the Mind. And nail to th' ground that Particle of Jove. Pago il cor di poco, il suo ben crede Pascer so parca ma pulita mensa Piu di piacer che vivande il corpo In vece de piu lauti e piu chiari Cibi, Onde s' aggrava il' nauseato Gusto, E onde ohime la Vita altrui si accorcia. Imper. That is, He with content at his own Table sits Served with clean Linen and with common Meat, Eating no more than what suffices Nature, And thence with Appetite rises to his Studies Taking more care to feed his Soul, than Body, Variety he shuns and newfound Dishes, Which bring their Thousands to untimely Death. Ne turpe toral, ne sordida mappa Corruget nares, ne non & Cantharus & Lanx Ostendat tibi te. Hor. Lest the foul Tablecloth and dirty Napkins Should make you loathe your meat. Lest you should see your Face i'th' greasy Plates. Et mundus victus non deficiente crumena. Id. That is, Clean Diet and some Money in my Purse. Mundaeque parvo sub lare pauperum Coenae. Hor. That is, And cleanly Suppers in a homely Cottage. Pauperies immunda domus procul absit, ego utrum. Hor. Nave serar magna an parva ferar unus & idem. Hor. That is, From unclean Poverties attacks secured, 'twill be all one to me to make the Port In a small Wherry or a first rate Ship. V With a ¹ Pudding on Sundays, with stout humming Liquor, And Remnants of Latin to welcome the vicar, With ² Monte-Fiascone or ³ Burgundy Wine To drink the ⁴ King's health as oft as I dine. ¹ Tho the Poet never eats any, he provides this Dish for his Guest, but principally in observance of the old English Custom, to let no Sunday pass without a Pudding. From this, and many passages before, it is evident that he is a very superstitious Fellow. ² A Town in Tuscany clebrated for good Wine, and the Epitaf of a Dutch Man buried there; all the Books which treat of Travelling through Italy relate the story at large. But since it may be new to some who shall read this, I will set it down in few words; A Dutch Traveller with his Servant lighted at the Inn which lies out of the Town, and thence sent his Servant into it to find the best Wine, ordering him to write Est upon the door of the House wherein he found good Wine; where he found better, Est, Est; where the best, Est, Est, Est: The Servant obeyed his Commands punctually. The Master follows, and finds the Tavern bearing this last Inscription, and drank so much, that it cast him into a Fever, whereof he died. His Servant buried him in the Church, engraving upon his Tombstone this Epitaf, which is still to be seen there. Est, Est, Est. Propter nimium Est, Jo de Fuc. D. meus mortuus est. That is, Here lies my Master, due East and West, By taking too much, of Est, Est, Est. ³ Beauln, A Town in the Dukedom of Burgundy, famous for a magnificent Hospital, and the excellency of its Wines, which are incomparably the best in France, if not in the World. Experto crede Roberto. i e. I do not speak this by hear-say. ⁴ So Horace writing to Augustus. Hinc ad vina redit laetus & alteris Te mensis adhibet Deum. Te multa prece, te prosequitur mero. Diffuso Pateris, & laribus tuum Miscet nomen, ut Graecia Castoris Et magni memor Herculis. Longas ô utinam Rex bone ferias Praestes Hesperiae, dicimus integro Sicci mane die, dicimus Widi Cum nox Oceano subest. This may be thus Parafrased. When second Course comes in, Then we begin To bless the Gods and thee, mingling your Names, With many Prayers, and Glasses filled with Wine We drink your Health, crying, King live for ever. Not Hercules, nor Castor ever found Such Love in Greece, as thou in English ground, For the World's good, may Heavens preserve thee long. This is our sober, and our drunken Song. Our first i'th' Morning, and last Prayer at Night. VI May my Wine be Uermillion, may my Malt-drink be pale, In neither extreme, or too mild or too stolen. In lieu of Deserts, Unwholesome and Dear, Let ¹ Lodi or Parmesan bring up the Rear. May I govern, etc. ¹ Laus Pompey, a wonderful fertile Town in the Duchy of Milan, whose Cheese is of greater Fame, than Parmesan. VII. Nor ¹ Tory, or Wig, Observator or Trimmer May I be, nor against the Laws torrent a Swimmer May I mind what I speak, what I writ, and hear read, But with matters of State ne'er trouble my head. May I govern, etc. ¹ Those odious Names of Distinction, kindled great Animosity, and Strangeness, and even Hatred, betwixt Friends and Relations, which are not (I fear) yet throughly extinguished. VIII. Let the Gods who dispose of every King's Crown, Whomsoever they please, set up and pull down. I'll pay the whole Shilling imposed on my head, Tho I go without ¹ Claret that Night to my Bed. May I govern, etc. ¹ If that should happen, it would be a shrewd Affliction to the Poet. IX. I'll bleed without grumbling, tho' ¹ that Tax should appear As oft as New Moons, or Weeks in a Year, For why should I let a seditious Word fall? ² Since my Lands in ³ Utopia pay nothing at all. May I govern, etc. ² A Poll Bill. ² A good Encouragement to pay for his Head, & c. 3 A Place in Jupiter, or the Moon, or some other of the Planets, for it is not to be found in the Map of the World. X. Tho' I care not for Riches, may I not be so poor, That the Rich without shame cannot enter my Door, ¹ May they court my converse, may they take much delight, My ² old Stories to hear in a Winter's long Night. May I govern, etc. 1 Pauperemque dives me petet. 2 Aniles ex re fabellas, Hor. That is, Let the Rich look after me. Old Stories aptly applied. XI. My small stock of Wit may I not misapply, To flatter great men be they never so high. Nor misspend the ³ few Moment's I steal from the Grave, In fawning, or cringing, like a Dog or a Slave. May I govern, etc. 3 Quell poco viver che m' avanza. Petr. That is, The small remainder of my Life. XII. May none whom I love, to so great ¹ Riches rise As to slight their Acquaintance, and their old Friends despise. So Low, or so High, may none of them be, As to move either Pity, or Envy in me. May I govern, etc. 1 No de Dios tanto bien a nuestros Amigos que nos desconoscam. A Spanish Proverb, In English thus, Let not God make our Friends so rich as to forget us. XIII. A Friendship I wish for, but alas 'tis in vain, Jove's Store-House is empty and can't it supply, So firm, that no change of Times, Envy, or Gain, Or Flattr'y, or Woman, should have Power to untie. May I govern, etc. XIV. But if Friends prove unfaithful, and Fortune a ¹ Whore, Still may I be Uirtuous, though I am Poor, My Life then, as useless, may I freely resign, When no longer I relish, true Wit, and good Wine. May I govern, etc. ¹ Fortuna saevo laeta negocio, Ludum insolentem ludere pertinax. Transmutat incertos honores Nunc mihi, nunc alii benigna. Hor. Laudo manentem, si celeres quatit Pennas, resigno quae dedit, & mea Virtute me involvo. Hor. Hinc apicem rapax Fortuna cum stridore acuto Sustulit, hic posuisse gaudet. Hor. Something to this purpose. Fortune delights to play her cruel Game, And, as the wind, is never long the same, But to change Favourites always inclined, Sometimes to me, sometimes to thee she's kind. When thou thinkest thou hast her as sure as a Gun She'll up with her Scut, and away she'll run. I am well pleased while she vouchsafes to stay, But if she claps her wings, and scuds away, What I've received, I patiently lay down, And wrap myself in my own virtue's Gown. Fortune fly's wantonly about the World, And changes Crowns and Kingdoms every day. XV. To out live my ¹ Senses may it not be my Fate, To be blind, to be deaf, to know nothing at all, But rather let Death come before 'tis so late, And while there's some Sap in it, may my Tree fall. May I govern, etc. ³ May I not lose my Sight, my Hearing, and my Memory, and be a Burden to my Friends, and myself, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Telluris inutile Pondus, a dead unuseful Burden to the Ground. Di guai pieno, e d'angoscie e fatto in tutto. Spiacevol, e molesto a tutti, anzi a me medessimo. Petr. That is, In Pain and Anguish altogether troublesome Not only to my Friends, but to myself. Vltima semper Expectanda dies homini est, dicique beatus Ante obitum nemo supremaque funera debet. Ovid. That is, No Man can be called Happy till he's dead, 'tis the last Hour denominates the Life. If you tell an Italian, such a one is a rich, or happy man; he'll reply, Dammi lo morto, as much as to say, Let me see dead, and then 'twill be evident whether he is or not; before that, no true Judgement is to be made. Some corporeal and intellectual vigour. ⁴ May I die. XVI. I hope I shall have no occasion to send For Priests, or Fysicians, till I am so near mine End ¹ That I have eat all my Bread, and drunk my last Glass, ² Let them come then, and set their Seals to my Pass. May I govern, etc. ¹ The Poet alludes to a Tradition amongst the Turks, who believe, that when any one is born into the World, there is such a Quantity of Meat and Drink set before him, which when he has consumed, he must die. The Moral whereof is, He that desires to live long, must be sparing in his Meat and Drink. ² That I may die Canonicament e con tutti gli ordini. i e. Die regularly, observing all the Ceremonies, Formalities, and Punctualities, A la Coustume, which is according to our barbarous Translation, To a Cow's Thumb. XVII. With a Courage undaunted, may I face my last Day, And when I am dead may the better sort say, ¹ In the Morning, when sober, in the Evening, when mellow ' He's gone, and left not behind him his Fellow. May I govern, etc. ¹ Dicimus integro Sicci mane die, dicimus Vnidi, Cum nox Oceano subest. These Verses are Translated before. SH' io vissi in guerra, e in tempesta, Morai in pace, e in porto, e se la Stanza Furio vana, almen sia la partita honesta. Petr. That is, Tho I have lived in War, and in a Storm, Oh may I die in Peace, and in a Port Tho the first Parts I acted on Lises Stage Were vain, may my last Exit make amends. XVIII. Without any ¹ Noise when I've pass do't the Stage, And decently acted what part ² Fortune gave, And put off my ³ Uests in a ⁴ cheerful Old Age, May a few honest Fellows see me laid in my Grave. May I govern, etc. ¹ Secretum iter & fallentis semita vitae. Hor. Nec vixit male, qui natus moriensque fefellit. Idem. That is He Happy is who lived and died unknown. 2 Quem dederat cursum Fortuna peregi. Virgil. That is, I've run the Race by Fortune me assigned. ³ My Garments of Flesh, wherein I acted my Part on the Stage of the World, when the Farce is done, and the Curtain drawn. Al por giu di questa spoglia. Petr. Lasciando in terra le squarciete vele. Idem. That is, When I put off my tattered Rags, And leave them here behind me on the Earth. Quando de terreno Carcere uscendo, lascirai tu e sparta Questa mia grave, e frale, e mortal Gonna. Petr. That is, When I'm released out of this Mortal Prison, Leaving my heavy, frail, and mortal Gown. E quel velo Che per alto destin mi venne in sort. Id. That is, That Veil that Heavens appointed me to wear: precor integra Cum ment nec turpem senectam Degere, nec cithara carentem. That is, In a cheerful Old Age, and my Senses entire, VIII. I care not whether under a Turf, or a Stone, With any Inscription upon it, or none, If a Thousand Years hence, ¹ Here lies W. P. Shall be read on my Tomb, what is it to me? May I govern, etc. ¹ The Poet Presumes he shall have a very short and modest Epitaf if any, only the Two First Letters of his Name. S'el Latino o'l Greco Parlan di me dopo la morte, e un' Vento. Pet. That is, If the Romans or Grecians speak of me after my death, 'tis but Wind. XX. Yet one Wish I add, for the sake of those ¹ Few Who in reading these Lines any Pleasure shall take, May I leave a good ² Fame, and a sweet smelling Name. AMEN. Here an End of my WISHES I make. May I govern my Passion with an absolute Sway, And grow Wiser, and Better, as my Strength wears away, Without Gout, or Stone, by a gentle Decay. 1 Non ut me miretur turba Laboro. Contentus paucis Lectoribus. i e. I design not to be read by many, nor covet the applause of the Populace. ² Quae post Fata venit, Gloria sera venit. Mart. i e. Fame comes too late when it comes after Death. Though Fame will not concern me after I am Dead, yet I wish for it, because it will be a Pleasure to my surviving Friends. Si quos superesse volunt Dii. Hor. i e. If I do not (which has happened to many Old Men) outlive all my Friends. FINIS.