Classic Poem

" Besides the things that you have told,
Tiresias, let me be so bold,
As your opinion to demand
How I the loss of house and land
May be enabled to repair
By what expedient, art, or care?
Why do you laugh?" — " O fam'd for tricks!
Is't not enough your route to fix,
That you may Ithaca regain,
And in your native country reign?"
— " O thou that never spoke a lie,
You see how stript, how poor am I,
Returning by your prophecy.
Where my wife's suitors I shall find,
Nor wealth nor flocks have left behind:
But race and virtue without cash,
And property are errant trash" —
" Since poverty so much you dread
There is no further to be said:
Learn how to flourish in a trice.
If any thing that's scarce and nice,
A thrush for your own private snack
Be sent you, presto! in a crack,
The spoil to some old dupe convey,
Who lives in the most splendid way.
Whate'er your garden, or your field,
Of fruit, or other dainties yield,
Let him taste first, a guest by far
More venerable than the Lar.
And tho' a wretch of upstart pride,
A fugitive for laws defied,
By perjury or fratricide:
Yet if he chuses at his call
You must attend, and give the wall" —
— " What cheek by jole, shall I be caught
With a vile Dama, filthy thought?
Not so still arm'd above my match
At Troy did I myself attach" — —
— " The sequel is you must be poor" —
— " This my brave spirit shall endure —
And oftentimes I've underwent
Fatigues of greater hardiment,
Yet prithee, prophet, tell me plain,
How I shall cash and substance gain." —
— " In troth I told you, and repeat
The lesson, practise your deceit,
To coax old men to make their will,
And put you in a codicile.
Nor if a cunning knave or two,
Shou'd see the hook and bite it thro",
Or from your hope recede dismay'd,
Or for one blank relinquish trade.
If any matter great or small,
Be canvass'd in the judgment-hall,
Whiche'er be rich without a child,
Tho' he his betters has revil'd,
Be you the fav'rer of his cause,
And one of honour or applause
Despise, and more so, if he house
A hopeful son, or breeding spouse.
" My Lord — your Grace " — (a title suits
And in a drunken ear dilutes)
" Me has your virtue made a friend;
I know the law, can points defend.
And they shall rather have my eyes,
Than your great dignity despise,
And with a deaf-nut fob you off:
That you shall have nor loss nor scoff,
Is ever my peculiar care. "
Then bid him to his home repair,
And cocker up his carcase there.
Persist — hold out — your stumps bestir,
And be yourself sollicitor.
Whether the Dog star's FIERY FEAT
Crack poor dumb statues with his heat,
Or fat-gut Furius puff and blow,
And on the Alpine hills below,
Shall disembogue the hoary snow.
" Sir, don't you see (some one will cry
Jogging his elbow by the bye)
Your indefatigable friend
So clean the case to comprehend. "
With baits like these your plan pursue,
More fish will come to stock the stew.
Again, if any man shou'd rear
(Worth you some hundred pounds a year)
An ailing son — lest you shou'd seem
Too open in your courteous scheme,
As batchelor — by slow degrees
Creep in and gradual offices,
And for the second heir apply
So haply, if the lad shou'd die,
To all you may yourself advance —
This is an admirable chance.
Whoever puts into your hand
His WILL to read: at first withstand,
And push the parchment rolls aside;
Yet let it be obliquely ey'd
So as to catch a glance of that,
The second item wou'd be at,
Whether with many you're co-heir,
Or come into the whole affair.
Full oft some scriv'ner or old fox
The gaping crow deludes and mocks,
And tho's he's shrewder than the rest
Nasica be Coranus' jest' —
— — " What, are you mad, or by design
Do you obscurities divine?" —
— — " Ulysses all that I foresee
Of surety shall, or shall not be,
For from Apollo wise and great,
I have obtain'd this skill in fate."
— " Then, if you please, pray, sir, unveil
The mystic meaning of your tale." —
" What time that youth of race divine,
Who from Eneas draws his line,
The Parthian's terror shall be crown'd,
And both by sea and land renown'd;
Nasica known for sneaking ways,
Who loves deduction when he pays,
Shall have his stately girl allied
To stout Coranus, as his bride.
The son-in-law shall then proceed
To the old churl to give the deed,
Which, first, he'll frequently refuse,
But, being closely press'd, peruse.
And while in silent mood he hums,
He'll find there's neither sum nor sums,
And nothing left for him and his,
But leave to make a rueful phiz.
To things which we've been led to name,
And also — if a subtle dame
Or freed-slave manage an old man,
Make one amongst them if you can.
Praise them, that in the self-same strain,
You absent may be prais'd again:
This helps — but it is best of all
By far to storm the Capitol.
Does he write verses? sorry stuff?
Be sure to praise them well enough.
Is he a wencher? do not wait
For him to be importunate;
But forward of your own accord
Your wife to him you call your lord."
— " What, wou'd you intimate that she,
The chaste and sage Penelope
Can be seduc'd, whom from her course
So many suitors cou'd not force?" —
— " The reason is, that youths of thrift
Were there still grudging of a gift,
A race that chose with stomachs keen
The cubbard, rather than the queen.
Thus your Penelope is chaste,
Who if she once had got a taste
Of one old dotard, with a view
To share the perquisite with you,
No more wou'd startle from her aim,
Than a staunch hound will quit his game.
The fact that I'm about to tell,
When I was old, at Thebes befell.
Thus by her will an old hag there
Was carried to her grave — the heir
With corpse upon his shoulders went
Naked and oil'd, to this intent,
That she might give the slip at last
Tho' dead, to him who stuck so fast.
Wherefore be cautious, nothing spare,
Likewise by no means over-bear.
The splenetic and the morose
Will hate the babler as too gross;
Nor keep too silent by the bye;
Be Davus in the comedy,
Stand with your most obsequious head
Aside, as in a state of dread.
Ply him with complaisant grimace;
Pray him to veil his precious face,
If once you find the air too brisk,
And from the croud at any risk
Shoulder him out — and if inclin'd
To talk, stick to him ear and mind.
If he love praising to excess,
Have at him, keep him up and press,
Till with his hands to heav'n with wrath
He cries, " O 'tis too much in troth. "
But keep it up as at the first,
Until his tumid bladder burst.
When he at last by his decease,
Shall give your service full release,
And you shall fairly look on this,
In certainty of waking bliss,
" Ulysses is the heir I name,
To the fourth part of all I claim. "
What, has my Dama run his race —
O where shall I that man replace?
Likewise appearances to save,
Urge now and then how great and brave!
Then cry a little if you will,
'Tis exultation's utmost skill.
Nor be, to your direction left,
His tomb of elegance bereft.
The funeral a concourse draws,
With all the neighbourhood's applause.
Mean time if one of your co-heirs
Shou'd think of settling his affairs,
As lab'ring with a dang'rous cough,
Tell him you're ready to cut off
Whatever house and farm he likes,
And any sum the bargain strikes. —
But Proserpine, so stern to drive
The Ghosts, recals me — live and thrive."