A
SATIRE
in
the
Manner
of
PERSIUS
,
in
a
Dialogue
between
ATTICUS
and
EUGENIO
.
By
the
late
Lord
HERVEY
.
ATTICUS
.
WHY
wears
my
pensive
friend
that
gloomy
brow
?
Say
,
whence
proceeds
th'
imaginary
woe
?
What
prosp'rous
villain
hast
thou
met
to-day
?
Or
hath
afflicted
Virtue
cross'd
thy
way
?
Is
it
some
crime
unpunish'd
you
deplore
,
Or
right
subverted
by
injurious
Power
?
Be
this
or
that
the
cause
,
'tis
wisely
done
To
make
the
sorrows
of
mankind
your
own
:
To
see
the
injur'd
pleading
unredress'd
,
The
proud
exalted
,
and
the
meek
oppress'd
,
Can
hurt
thy
health
,
and
rob
thee
of
thy
rest
.
Your
cares
are
in
a
hopeful
way
to
cease
,
If
you
must
find
perfection
to
find
peace
.
But
reck
thy
malice
,
vent
thy
stifled
rage
,
Inveigh
against
the
times
and
lash
the
age
.
—
Perhaps
just
recent
from
the
court
you
come
,
O'er
public
ills
to
ruminate
at
home
:
Say
,
which
of
all
the
wretches
thou
hast
seen
Hath
thrown
a
morsel
to
thy
hungry
spleen
?
What
worthless
member
of
that
medley
throng
,
Who
basely
acts
,
or
tamely
suffers
wrong
?
He
,
who
to
nothing
but
his
int'rest
true
,
Cajoles
the
fool
he's
working
to
undo
:
Or
that
more
despicable
timorous
slave
,
Who
knows
himself
abus'd
,
yet
hugs
the
knave
?
Perhaps
you
mourn
our
senate's
sinking
fame
,
That
shew
of
freedom
dwindled
to
a
name
:
Where
hireling
judges
deal
their
venal
laws
,
And
the
best
bidder
hath
the
justest
cause
;
What
then
?
They
have
the
pow'r
,
and
who
shall
dare
to
blame
The
legal
wrong
that
bears
Astraea's
name
?
Besides
,
such
thoughts
shou'd
never
stir
the
rage
Of
youthful
gall
;
—
reflection
comes
with
age
:
'Tis
our
decaying
life's
autumnal
fruit
,
The
bitter
produce
of
our
latest
shoot
,
When
ev'ry
blossom
of
the
tree
is
dead
,
Enjoyment
wither'd
,
and
our
wishes
fled
:
Thine
still
is
in
its
spring
,
on
ev'ry
bough
Fair
Plenty
blooms
,
and
youthful
Odours
blow
;
Season
of
joy
,
too
early
to
be
wise
,
The
time
to
covet
pleasures
,
not
despise
:
Yours
is
an
age
when
trifles
ought
to
please
,
Too
soon
for
reason
to
attack
thy
ease
.
Tho'
soon
the
hour
shall
come
,
when
thou
shalt
know
'Tis
vain
fruition
ull
,
and
empty
shew
.
But
late
examine
,
late
inspect
mankind
,
If
seeing
pains
,
'tis
prudence
to
be
blind
.
Let
not
their
vices
yet
employ
thy
thoughts
,
Laugh
at
their
follies
,
ere
you
weep
their
faults
:
And
when
(
as
sure
you
must
)
at
length
you
find
What
things
men
are
,
resolve
to
arm
your
mind
.
Too
nicely
never
their
demerits
scan
,
And
of
their
virtues
make
the
most
you
can
.
Silent
avert
the
mischief
they
intend
,
And
cross
,
but
seem
not
to
discern
,
their
end
:
If
they
prevail
,
submit
,
for
prudence
lies
In
suffering
well
.
—
'Tis
equally
unwise
,
To
see
the
injuries
we
won't
resent
,
And
mourn
the
evils
which
we
can't
prevent
.
EUGENIO
.
You
counsel
well
to
bid
me
arm
my
mind
.
Wou'd
the
receipt
were
easy
,
as
'tis
kind
;
But
hard
it
is
for
misery
to
reach
That
fortitude
prosperity
can
teach
.
Cou'd
I
forbid
what
has
been
to
have
been
,
Or
lodge
a
doubt
on
truths
myself
have
seen
;
Cou'd
I
divest
remembrance
of
her
store
,
And
say
,
collect
these
images
no
more
;
Cou'd
I
dislodge
sensation
from
my
breast
,
And
charm
her
wakeful
faculties
to
rest
;
Cou'd
I
my
nature
and
myself
subdue
,
I
might
the
method
you
prescribe
pursue
.
But
if
unfeign'd
afflictions
we
endure
,
If
reason's
our
disease
,
and
not
our
cure
,
Then
seeming
ease
is
all
we
can
obtain
;
As
one
,
who
long
familiariz'd
to
pain
,
Still
feels
the
smart
,
but
ceases
to
complain
.
Tho'
young
in
life
,
yet
long
inur'd
to
care
,
Thus
I
submissive
every
evil
bear
:
If
unexpected
ills
alone
are
hard
,
Mine
shou'd
be
light
,
who
am
for
all
prepar'd
:
No
disappointments
can
my
peace
annoy
,
Disuse
has
wean'd
me
from
all
hopes
of
joy
:
The
vain
pursuit
for
ever
I
give
o'er
,
Repuls'd
I
strive
,
betray'd
I
trust
no
more
:
Mankind
I
know
,
their
nature
,
and
their
art
,
Their
vice
their
own
,
their
virtue
but
a
part
;
Ill
play'd
so
oft
,
that
all
the
cheat
can
tell
,
And
dang'rous
only
where
'tis
acted
well
.
In
different
classes
rang'd
,
a
different
name
Attends
their
practice
,
but
the
heart's
the
same
.
Their
hate
is
interest
,
interest
too
their
love
,
On
the
same
springs
these
different
engines
move
:
That
sharpens
malice
,
and
directs
her
sting
,
And
thence
the
honey'd
streams
of
flattery
spring
.
Long
I
suspected
what
at
last
I
know
:
I
thought
men
worthless
,
now
I've
prov'd
'em
so
;
Reluctant
prov'd
it
,
by
too
sure
a
rule
,
I
learn'd
my
science
in
a
painful
school
.
He
buys
e'en
wisdom
at
too
dear
a
price
,
Who
pays
my
sad
experience
to
be
wise
.
Why
did
I
hope
,
by
sanguine
views
possess'd
,
That
Virtue
harbour'd
in
a
human
breast
?
Why
did
I
trust
to
Flattery's
specious
wile
,
The
April
sunshine
of
her
transient
smile
?
Why
disbelieve
the
lessons
of
the
wise
,
That
taught
me
young
to
pierce
her
thin
disguise
?
I
thought
their
rancour
,
not
their
prudence
,
spoke
,
That
age
perverse
in
false
invectives
broke
;
I
thought
their
comments
on
this
gaudy
scene
The
effects
of
phlegm
,
and
dictated
by
spleen
;
That
jealous
of
the
joys
themselves
were
past
,
Their
envy
try'd
to
pall
their
children's
taste
:
Like
the
deaf
adder
to
the
charmer's
tongue
,
I
gave
no
credit
to
the
truths
they
sung
;
But
,
happy
in
a
visionary
scheme
,
Still
sought
companions
worthy
my
esteem
:
The
tongue
,
the
heart's
interpreter
I
deem'd
,
And
judg'd
of
what
men
were
by
what
they
seem'd
;
I
thought
each
warm
professor
meant
me
fair
,
Each
supple
sycophant
a
friend
sincere
.
The
solemn
hypocrite
,
whose
close
design
Mirth
never
interrupts
,
nor
love
,
nor
wine
,
Who
talks
on
any
secret
but
his
own
,
Collecting
all
,
communicating
none
;
Who
still
attentive
to
what
others
say
,
Observes
to
wound
,
or
questions
to
betray
;
Of
him
as
guardian
of
my
private
thought
,
In
morning
counsels
cool
resolves
I
sought
;
To
him
still
open
,
cautiously
consign'd
The
inmost
treasures
of
my
secret
mind
;
My
joys
,
and
griefs
delighted
to
impart
,
In
sacred
confidence
unmix'd
with
art
;
That
dangerous
pleasure
of
the
honest
heart
!
Whene'er
I
purpos'd
to
unbend
my
soul
In
social
banquets
,
where
the
circling
bowl
To
gladness
lifts
all
sorrows
but
despair
,
And
gives
a
transient
Lethe
to
our
care
;
I
chose
the
men
whose
talents
entertain
And
season
converse
with
a
lively
strain
;
Who
thoughtless
still
,
by
hope
,
nor
fear
perplex'd
,
Enjoy
the
present
hour
,
and
risque
the
next
.
These
not
the
luxury
of
slothful
ease
,
Soft
downy
beds
,
nor
balmy
slumbers
please
;
While
wakeful
kings
on
purple
couches
own
The
secret
sorrows
of
their
envy'd
crown
,
And
wait
revolving
light
,
with
shorter
rest
Than
e'en
those
wretches
by
their
power
opprest
:
This
jocund
train
,
devoted
to
delight
,
In
chearful
vigils
still
protract
the
night
,
Nor
dread
the
cares
approaching
with
the
day
;
Thro'
each
vicissitude
for
ever
gay
.
With
such
I
commun'd
,
pleas'd
that
I
cou'd
find
Recess
so
grateful
to
the
active
mind
:
And
while
the
youths
in
sprightly
contest
try
,
With
humorous
tale
,
or
apposite
reply
,
Or
amorous
song
,
or
inoffensive
jest
,
(
The
test
of
wit
)
to
glad
the
lengthen'd
feast
;
My
soul
,
said
I
,
depend
upon
their
truth
,
For
fraud
inhabits
not
the
breast
of
youth
;
Indulge
thy
genius
here
,
be
free
,
be
safe
,
Mirth
is
their
aim
,
they
covet
but
to
laugh
;
Pure
from
deceit
,
as
ignorant
of
care
,
Their
friendship
,
and
their
joys
are
both
sincere
.
I
judg'd
their
nature
,
like
their
humour
good
;
As
if
the
soul
depended
on
the
blood
;
And
that
the
seeds
of
honesty
must
grow
Wherever
health
resides
,
or
spirits
flow
.
I
see
my
error
:
but
I
see
too
late
:
'Tis
vain
inspection
to
look
back
on
Fate
.
—
What
are
the
men
who
most
esteem'd
we
find
,
But
such
whose
vices
are
the
most
refin'd
?
Blind
preference
!
for
vice
like
poison
shews
,
The
surest
death
is
in
the
subtlest
dose
.
—
To
such
reflections
when
I
turn
my
mind
,
I
loath
my
being
,
and
abhor
mankind
.
What
joy
for
truth
,
what
commerce
for
the
just
,
If
all
our
safety's
founded
on
distrust
;
If
all
our
wisdom
is
a
mean
deceit
,
And
he
who
prospers
but
the
ablest
cheat
!
ATTICUS
.
O
early
wise
!
how
well
hast
thou
defin'd
The
worth
,
the
joys
,
the
friendship
of
mankind
!
EUGENIO
.
Blest
be
the
pow'rs
,
I
know
their
abject
state
.
ATTICUS
.
Yet
bear
with
this
,
and
hope
a
better
fate
.
Thrice
happy
they
,
who
view
with
stable
eyes
The
shifting
scene
,
who
temp'rate
,
firm
,
and
wise
,
Can
bear
its
sorrows
,
and
its
joys
despise
;
Who
look
on
disappointments
,
shocks
,
and
strife
,
And
all
the
consequential
ills
of
life
,
Not
as
severities
the
gods
impose
,
But
easy
terms
indulgent
Heav'n
allows
To
man
,
by
short
probation
to
obtain
Immortal
recompence
for
transient
pain
.
Th'
intent
of
Heav'n
thus
rightly
understood
,
From
every
evil
we
extract
a
good
:
This
truth
divine
implanted
in
the
heart
,
Supports
each
drudging
mortal
thro'
his
part
;
Gives
a
delightful
prospect
to
the
blind
;
The
friendless
thence
a
constant
succour
find
:
The
wretch
by
fraud
betray'd
,
by
pow'r
oppress'd
,
With
this
restorative
still
soothes
his
breast
;
This
suffering
Virtue
chears
,
this
Pain
beguiles
,
And
decks
Calamity
herself
in
smiles
.
When
Mead
and
Freind
have
ransack'd
ev'ry
rule
,
Taught
in
Hippocrates'
and
Galen's
school
,
To
quiet
ills
that
mock
the
leech's
art
,
Which
opiates
fail
to
deaden
in
the
heart
,
This
cordial
still
th'
incurable
sustains
:
He
triumphs
in
the
sharp
instructive
pains
,
Nor
like
a
Roman
hero
,
falsely
great
,
With
impious
hand
anticipates
his
fate
;
But
waits
resign'd
the
slow
approach
of
death
;
Till
that
great
Power
who
gave
,
demands
his
breath
.
Such
are
thy
solid
comforts
,
love
divine
,
Such
solid
comforts
,
O
my
friend
,
be
thine
.
On
this
firm
basis
thy
foundation
lay
,
Of
happiness
unsubject
to
decay
.
On
man
no
more
,
that
frail
support
,
depend
,
The
kindest
patron
,
or
the
warmest
friend
;
The
warmest
friend
may
one
day
prove
untrue
,
And
interest
change
the
kindest
patron's
view
.
Hear
not
,
my
friend
,
the
fondness
they
profess
,
Nor
on
the
trial
grieve
to
find
it
less
:
With
patience
each
capricious
change
endure
;
Careful
to
merit
where
reward
is
sure
.
To
Providence
implicitly
resign'd
,
Let
this
grand
precept
poise
thy
wavering
mind
:
With
partial
eyes
we
view
our
own
weak
cause
,
And
rashly
scan
her
upright
equal
laws
:
For
undeserv'd
she
ne'er
inflicts
a
woe
,
Nor
is
her
recompence
unsure
,
tho'
slow
.
Unpunish'd
none
transgress
,
deceiv'd
none
trust
,
Her
rules
are
fixt
,
and
all
her
ways
are
just
.