Satyr II. To T:--- M.---y. On Law.

Health & advice an old acquaintance sends,
Health & advice, the wish & debt of friends,
Tis fitt I teach the templar how to thrive,
Who teaches me with temperance to live.
Be still then murmuring Clients for a while,
Ye noisy four Court walls awhile be still,
Splitt with hard banter, & the Lawyers tongue,
Now Give a gentler Eccho to my song.
Of Law I sing, inspire my weaker pen,
Lost Suits, & pleaders little usd to gain.

That angry Justice to her heaven went
There seems not so confessd an argument,
As Lawyers thriving in her name below,
When were she here again, again she'd go.
Thus courtiers, if a Kings from care wthdrawn,
Rise without meritt, & with fraud rule on.

All Law was conscience once, unmixd wth tricks,
Found out by interest, or for politicks:
To his award each happy village stands,
Whose awfull virtue most respect commands,
Nor bribes, nor favour swayd the rigid man,
But all his acts in golden order ran;
Till love of gain, or fame, found out ye croud,
& rose by seeming good, above the good.
From this gross error to relieve their lands
Projecting patriots gave their helping hands:
Then Laws were putt in writing, courts were reard,
& Men for forehead, & strong lungs preferrd,
A friend or whore became a heightning clause,
& mony grew the meritt of the cause.

Woud you be taught your paths of gain to tread,
But man wants little teaching to be bad,
Gett impudence, each nation has its share,
Or something which does wondrous like appear,
Scotch confidence, the vanity of France,
The surly English air, the Irish ignorance,
All stand for this, or up to this advance.
Letts hear the other side, the Judge commands,
& Tully rises with his brief in hand,
Tully so known, so little heard of late,
But bauling Matho wont give over yet,
Forbid & shameless still he quotes ye lawes
Till want of time & his unceasing noise,
Staves of a Judgement or obtains the cause.
Thus what the first of every term he gaines,
So great a family so well maintaines.
Poor modesty, as old records declare,
Was starvd to death behind the foremost barr.
Have many words, nor spare ye breath you sell,
Your Clients pleasd you labour, tho' you fail;
Hence fluent Nevolus his great success,
Smoothly he utters, finds his words with ease,
his reasons places in the clearest light,
& pleads with humour, where he has not right.
Livy, whose country talks upon his words,
Shows reason, reason if the cause affords,
& by his happy fault of speaking long
Makes some believe he shows it in ye wrong.
Your terms are too of wondrous consequence,
To dazzle ignorance, & puzzle sence.
& many private tricks besides are known,
Which practise finds, or custom has sett down.
Young Brutus, who so quickly came in play,
To gainfull fame found this effectuall way,
In formâ pauperis much he undertook,
As men who fish take worm upon ye hook,
& to be often heard, for nothing often spoke.
With this last rule I close my whole advice,
Take all you can, he looses who deny's,
Who by one side is usd may honest be,
But he is rich who takes of both his fee.
& least you want a story of your art,
Hear how began this double-dealing part.

In times of yore, & Æsops vocall grove,
When fingers talkd of something else then Love,
The hands fell out, the plaintiff, left maintaind,
The right in all things tho unjustly reignd.
Then this her plea, that had her answer heard,
This brought deponents, that Cross bills preferrd.
After a Long debate to make them pay,
(for you as well may hope to gett away,
for nought, as allmost nought) the Judges say,
What ere the world in other things intends,
To shew how much we wish relations friends,
As often as we can, the court decrees,
To use you both alike in taking fees

Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)
105 Views

Translation

Find a translation for this poem in other languages:

Select another language:

  • - Select -
  • Chinese - Simplified 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
  • Chinese - Traditional 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
  • Spanish Español (Spanish)
  • Esperanto Esperanto (Esperanto)
  • Japanese 日本語 (Japanese)
  • Portuguese Português (Portuguese)
  • German Deutsch (German)
  • Arabic العربية (Arabic)
  • French Français (French)
  • Russian Русский (Russian)
  • Kannada ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
  • Korean 한국어 (Korean)
  • Hebrew עברית (Hebrew)
  • Ukrainian Український (Ukrainian)
  • Urdu اردو (Urdu)
  • Hungarian Magyar (Hungarian)
  • Hindi मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
  • Indonesian Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Italian Italiano (Italian)
  • Tamil தமிழ் (Tamil)
  • Turkish Türkçe (Turkish)
  • Telugu తెలుగు (Telugu)
  • Thai ภาษาไทย (Thai)
  • Vietnamese Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
  • Czech Čeština (Czech)
  • Polish Polski (Polish)
  • Indonesian Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
  • Romanian Românește (Romanian)
  • Dutch Nederlands (Dutch)
  • Greek Ελληνικά (Greek)
  • Latin Latinum (Latin)
  • Swedish Svenska (Swedish)
  • Danish Dansk (Danish)
  • Finnish Suomi (Finnish)
  • Persian فارسی (Persian)
  • Yiddish ייִדיש (Yiddish)
  • Armenian հայերեն (Armenian)
  • Norwegian Norsk (Norwegian)
  • English English (English)

Discuss this Thomas Parnell poem with the community:

Citation

Use the citation below to add this poem to your bibliography:

Style:MLAChicagoAPA

"Satyr II. To T:--- M.---y. On Law." Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2019. Web. 12 Nov. 2019. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/37061/satyr-ii.--to-t:----m.---y.-on-law.>.

We need you!

Help us build the largest poetry community and poems collection on the web!

Our favorite collection of

Famous Poets

»

Thanks for your vote! We truly appreciate your support.