He whose advent'rous keel ploughs the rough seas, Takes interest of fate for wealth's increase. He that in battle traffics, and pitch'd fields, Reaps with his sword rich harvests, which war yields. Base parasites repose their drunken heads, Laden with sleep and wine, on Tyrian beds; And he that melts in Lust's adult'rous fire, Gets both reward and pleasure for his hire. But Learning only, midst this wanton heat, Hath (save itself) nothing to wear or eat; Faintly exclaiming on the looser Times, That value Wit and Arts below their crimes. IV. Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli. The fate of books is diverse as man's sense: Two critics ne'er shar'd one intelligence. V. I would not in my love too soon prevail: An easy conquest makes the purchase stale.[1] [_Epigrams._] This little bunch of epigrams is of no particular value, but being so small may be given for completeness' sake. The first three Hannah found in both Pickering and Malone 22 MSS., together with V, which, I suppose, shocked him so that he did not print it. The _Pro captu lectoris_, which is the best, is in Malone only.] [Footnote 1: From a copy most kindly made for me by Mr. Nichol Smith. It is a harmless enough, and rather neat, translation of Petronius, _Nolo quod cupio, &c._] The following group of poems has been printed by Mr. Mason, the first as authentic, the others as doubtful. He points out that _The Complaint_ and _On his Shadow_ are autograph, and written on the same sheet of paper as the lines _Upon the Untimely Death of J. K._ The text here printed has been supplied by Mr. Percy Simpson from the original MSS., and the few textual notes are his. In view of the uncertainty of the bulk of the matter I [G. S.] have not thought it worth while to add any annotation of the more general kind. In addition, Mr. Mason prints a translation of a Latin elegy on Dr. Spenser, President of Corpus Christi College, Oxford; the Latin text of this in Rawlinson MS. D. 912, fol. 305 verso, is in King's autograph, but the translation is not, and moreover it is so tinkered and changed as to suggest the efforts of a far from facile, if very conscientious, copyist. This has not been printed, and only the first of the following poems can with certainty be ascribed to King. _Upon the Untimely Death of J. K., first born of HK._ Blessed Spirit, thy infant breath, Fitter for the quire of saints Than for mortals here beneath, Warbles joys, but mine complaints-- Plaints that spring from that great loss Of thy little self, sad cross. Yet do I still repair thee by desire Which warms my benumbed sense, but like false fire.