HORACE, ODE xxii. LIB. i.

FREELY TRANSLATED BY LORD ELD-N.

THE* man who keeps a conscience pure,
(If not his own, at least his Princ e's,)
Through toil and danger walks secure,
Looks big and black, and never winces!
Not want has he of sword or dagger,
Cock'd hat or ringlets of GERAMB ;
Though Peers may laugh, and Papists swagger
He does not care one single d-mn!

Whether midst Irish chairmen going,
Or through St. Giles's alleys dim,
'Mid drunken Sheelahs, blasting, blowing,
No matter, 'tis all one to him.

66

* Integer vitæ scelerisque purus.
Non eget Mauri jaculis nequ e arcu,
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis.

Fusce, pha retra.

Sive per Syrteis iter æstuosas,
Sive facturus per inhospitalem
Caucasum, vel quæ loca fabu losus
Lambit Hydaspes.

The noble translator had, at first, laid the scene of these imagined dangers of his Man of Conscience among the Papists of Spain, and had translated the words quæ loca fabulosus lambit Hyda spes" thus-"The fabling Spaniard licks the French;" but, recollecting that it is our interest just now to be respectful to Spanish Catholics (though there is certainly no earthly reason for our being even commonly civil to Irish ones,) he altered the passage as it stands at present.

For instance, I, one evening late,
Upon a gay vacation sally,

Singing the praise of Church and State,
Got (God knows how) to Cranbourne-Alley,

When lo! an Irish Papist darted

Across my path, gaunt, grim and big—
Ild but frown, and off he started,
car'd at me even without my wig!

Yo a more fierce and raw-bon'd dog
Goes not to Mass in Dublin City,

Namque me silvâ lupus in Sabinâ,
Dum meam canto Lalagen, et ultra
Terminum curis vagor expeditis
Fugit inermem.

I cannot help calling the reader's attention to the culiar ingenuity with which these lines are para. phrased. Not to mention the happy conversion of the Wolf into a Papist, (seeing that Romulus was suckled by a Wolf, that Rome was founded by Romulus, and that the Pope has always reigned at Rome,) there is something particularly neat in supposing “ultra term. inum" to mean vacation-time; and then the modest consciousness with which the Noble and Learned Translator has avoided touching upon the words “curis expeditis," (or, as it has been otherwise read,) causis "expeditis," and the felicitous idea of his being "inermis" when "without his wig," are altogether the most delectable specimens of paraphrase in our language.

† Quale portentum neque militaris

Daunia in latis alit æsculetis,
Nec Juba tellus generat, leonum
Arida nutrix.

Nor shakes his brogue o'er Allen's Bog,
Nor spouts in Catholic Committee!

Oh!* place me midst O'ROURKES, O'TOOLES,
The ragged royal-blood of TARA;
Or place where DICK M-RT-N rules
The houseless wilds of CONNEMARA ;

Off Church and State I'll warble still Though ev'n DICK M-RT-N's self should grumble;

Sweet Church and State, like JACK and JILL, Sot lovingly upon a hill

Ah! ne'er like JACK and JILL to tumble !

* Pone me pigris ubi nulla campis

Arbor æstiva recreatur aura:

Quod latus mundi, nebulæ, malusque
Jupiter urget.

I must here remark, that the said Dick M-rt-n Deing a very good fellow, it was not at all fair to make a "malus Jupiter" of him.

Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo
Dulce loquentem.

There cannot be imagined a more happy illustration of the inseparability of Church and State, and their (what is called) “standing and falling together," than this ancient apologue of Jack and Jill. Jack, of course, represents the State in this ingenious little Allegory.

Jack fell down,

And broke his Crown,

And Jill came tumbling after.

EPIGRAM.

FROM THE FRENCH.

"I never give a kiss (says Prue)
To naughty man, for I abhor it."
She will not give a kiss 'tis true :

She'll take one though, and thank you for it!

ON A SQUINTING POETESS.

To no one Muse does she her glance confine, But has an eye, at once, to all the Nine!

ΤΟ

Moria pur quando vuol, non è bisogna mutar ni faccia ni voce per esser un Angelo.*

DIE when you will, you need not wear
At heaven's Court a form more fair
Than Beauty here on earth has given;
Keep but the lovely looks we see—
The voice we hear-and you will be
An Angel ready-made for Heaven!

*The words addressed by Lord Herbert of Cherbury to the beautiful Nun at Murano.-See his Life.

THE

NEW COSTUME OF THE MINISTERS

Nova monstra creavit.

Ovid Metamorph. L. i. v. 437.

HAVING sent off the troops of brave Major

САМАС,

With a swinging horse-tail at each valorous

back,

And such helmets, God bless us as never deck'd any

Male creature before, except Signor GIOVANNI. "Let's see" said the R-G-T (like TITUS perplex'd

With the duties of empire)" whom shall I dress "next?"

He looks in the glass-but perfection is there, Wir, whiskers, and chin-tufts all right to a hair:*

* That model of Princes, the Emperor Commodus, was particularly luxurious in the dressing and ornamenting of his hair. His conscience, however, would not suffer him to trust himself with a barber, and he used, accordingly, to burn off his beard-" timore tonsoris," says Lampridius. (Hist. August. Scriptor.) The dissolute AElius Verus, too, was equally attentive to the decoration of his wig. (See Jul. Capitolin.)---