John Gay had his faults as a man and as a poet, and it were easy finding fault with him in both capacities. But

"Poor were the triumph o'er the timid hare;"

and he was, by his own shewing, as well as Queen Caroline's, "the Hare with many friends." Let us, instead, drop a "tear over his fate," and pay a tribute, short, but sincere, to his true, though limited genius.



GAY'S FABLES.

* * * * *

INTRODUCTION.

PART I.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE PHILOSOPHER.

Remote from cities lived a swain, Unvexed with all the cares of gain; His head was silvered o'er with age, And long experience made him sage; In summer's heat, and winter's cold, He fed his flock and penned the fold; His hours in cheerful labour flew, Nor envy nor ambition knew: His wisdom and his honest fame Through all the country raised his name. 10 A deep philosopher (whose rules Of moral life were drawn from schools) The shepherd's homely cottage sought And thus explored his reach of thought: 'Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil? Hast thou old Greece and Rome surveyed, And the vast sense of Plato weighed? Hath Socrates thy soul refined, And hast thou fathomed Tully's mind? 20 Or like the wise Ulysses, thrown By various fates, on realms unknown, Hast thou through many cities strayed, Their customs, laws, and manners weighed?' The shepherd modestly replied, 'I ne'er the paths of learning tried; Nor have I roamed in foreign parts To read mankind, their laws and arts; For man is practised in disguise, He cheats the most discerning eyes; 30 Who by that search shall wiser grow, When we ourselves can never know? The little knowledge I have gained, Was all from simple nature drained; Hence my life's maxims took their rise, Hence grew my settled hate to vice. The daily labours of the bee Awake my soul to industry. Who can observe the careful ant, And not provide for future want? 40 My dog (the trustiest of his kind) With gratitude inflames my mind. I mark his true, his faithful way, And in my service copy Tray. In constancy and nuptial love, I learn my duty from the dove. The hen, who from the chilly air, With pious wing protects her care; And every fowl that flies at large, Instructs me in a parent's charge. 50 From nature too I take my rule, To shun contempt and ridicule. I never, with important air, In conversation overbear. Can grave and formal pass for wise, When men the solemn owl despise? My tongue within my lips I rein; For who talks much, must talk in vain. We from the wordy torrent fly: Who listens to the chattering pye? 60 Nor would I, with felonious flight, By stealth invade my neighbour's right; Rapacious animals we hate: Kites, hawks, and wolves deserve their fate. Do not we just abhorrence find Against the toad and serpent kind? But envy, calumny, and spite, Bear stronger venom in their bite. Thus every object of creation Can furnish hints to contemplation; 70 And from the most minute and mean, A virtuous mind can morals glean.' 'Thy fame is just,' the sage replies; 'Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. Pride often guides the author's pen, Books as affected are as men: But he who studies nature's laws, From certain truth his maxims draws; And those, without our schools, suffice To make men moral, good, and wise.' 80

* * * * *

TO HIS HIGHNESS

WILLIAM, DUXE OF CUMBERLAND.[1]

FABLE I.

THE LION, THE TIGER, AND THE TRAVELLER.

Accept, young Prince, the moral lay And in these tales mankind survey; With early virtues plant your breast, The specious arts of vice detest. Princes, like beauties, from their youth Are strangers to the voice of truth; Learn to contemn all praise betimes; For flattery's the nurse of crimes; Friendship by sweet reproof is shown, (A virtue never near a throne); 10 In courts such freedom must offend, There none presumes to be a friend. To those of your exalted station Each courtier is a dedication. Must I too flatter like the rest, And turn my morals to a jest? The Muse disdains to steal from those Who thrive in courts by fulsome prose. But shall I hide your real praise, Or tell you what a nation says? 20 They in your infant bosom trace The virtues of your royal race; In the fair dawning of your mind Discern you generous, mild, and kind; They see you grieve to hear distress, And pant already to redress. Go on, the height of good attain, Nor let a nation hope in vain. For hence we justly may presage The virtues of a riper age. 30 True courage shall your bosom fire, And future actions own you sire. Cowards are cruel, but the brave Love mercy, and delight to save. A tiger roaming for his prey, Sprung on a traveller in the way; The prostrate game a lion spies, And on the greedy tyrant flies; With mingled roar resounds the wood, Their teeth, their claws distil with blood; 40 Till vanquished by the lion's strength, The spotted foe extends his length. The man besought the shaggy lord, And on his knees for life implored. His life the generous hero gave, Together walking to his cave, The lion thus bespoke his guest: 'What hardy beast shall dare contest My matchless strength! you saw the fight, And must attest my power and right. 50 Forced to forego their native home, My starving slaves at distance roam. Within these woods I reign alone, The boundless forest is my own. Bears, wolves, and all the savage brood, Have dyed the regal den with blood. These carcases on either hand, Those bones that whiten all the land, My former deeds and triumphs tell, Beneath these jaws what numbers fell.' 60 'True,' says the man, 'the strength I saw Might well the brutal nation awe: But shall a monarch, brave like you, Place glory in so false a view? Robbers invade their neighbours' right, Be loved: let justice bound your might. Mean are ambitious heroes' boasts Of wasted lands and slaughtered hosts. Pirates their power by murders gain, Wise kings by love and mercy reign. 70 To me your clemency hath shown The virtue worthy of a throne. Heaven gives you power above the rest, Like Heaven to succour the distress'd.' 'The case is plain,' the monarch said; 'False glory hath my youth misled; For beasts of prey, a servile train, Have been the flatterers of my reign. You reason well: yet tell me, friend, Did ever you in courts attend? 80 For all my fawning rogues agree, That human heroes rule like me.'

* * * * *

FABLE II.

THE SPANIEL AND THE CAMELEON.

A spaniel, bred with all the care That waits upon a favourite heir, Ne'er felt correction's rigid hand; Indulged to disobey command, In pampered ease his hours were spent; He never knew what learning meant. Such forward airs, so pert, so smart, Were sure to win his lady's heart; Each little mischief gained him praise; How pretty were his fawning ways! 10 The wind was south, the morning fair, He ventured forth to take the air. He ranges all the meadow round, And rolls upon the softest ground: When near him a cameleon seen, Was scarce distinguished from the green. 'Dear emblem of the flattering host, What, live with clowns! a genius lost! To cities and the court repair: A fortune cannot fail thee there: 20 Preferment shall thy talents crown, Believe me, friend; I know the town.' 'Sir,' says the sycophant, 'like you, Of old, politer life I knew: Like you, a courtier born and bred; Kings leaned an ear to what I said. My whisper always met success; The ladies praised me for address, I knew to hit each courtier's passion, And flattered every vice in fashion. 30 But Jove, who hates the liar's ways, At once cut short my prosperous days; And, sentenced to retain my nature, Transformed me to this crawling creature. Doomed to a life obscure and mean, I wander in the sylvan scene. For Jove the heart alone regards; He punishes what man rewards. How different is thy case and mine! With men at least you sup and dine; 40 While I, condemned to thinnest fare, Like those I flattered feed on air.'

* * * * *

FABLE III.

THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, AND THE FAIRY.

Give me a son! The blessing sent, Were ever parents more content? How partial are their doting eyes! No child is half so fair and wise. Waked to the morning's pleasing care, The mother rose, and sought her heir. She saw the nurse, like one possess'd, With wringing hands, and sobbing breast. 'Sure some disaster hath befell: Speak, nurse; I hope the boy is well.' _10 'Dear madam, think not me to blame; Invisible the fairy came: Your precious babe is hence conveyed, And in the place a changeling laid. Where are the father's mouth and nose, The mother's eyes, as black as sloes? See here a shocking awkward creature, That speaks a fool in every feature.' 'The woman's blind,' the mother cries; 'I see wit sparkle in his eyes.' _20 'Lord! madam, what a squinting leer; No doubt the fairy hath been here.' Just as she spoke, a pigmy sprite Pops through the key-hole, swift as light; Perched on the cradle's top he stands, And thus her folly reprimands: 'Whence sprung the vain conceited lie, That we the world with fools supply? What! give our sprightly race away, For the dull helpless sons of clay! _30 Besides, by partial fondness shown, Like you we doat upon our own. Where yet was ever found a mother, Who'd give her booby for another? And should we change for human breed, Well might we pass for fools indeed.'

* * * * *

FABLE IV.

THE EAGLE, AND THE ASSEMBLY OF ANIMALS.

As Jupiter's all-seeing eye Surveyed the worlds beneath the sky, From this small speck of earth were sent, Murmurs and sounds of discontent; For every thing alive complained, That he the hardest life sustained. Jove calls his eagle. At the word Before him stands the royal bird. The bird, obedient, from heaven's height, Downward directs his rapid flight; _10 Then cited every living thing, To hear the mandates of his king. 'Ungrateful creatures, whence arise These murmurs which offend the skies? Why this disorder? say the cause: For just are Jove's eternal laws. Let each his discontent reveal; To yon sour dog, I first appeal.' 'Hard is my lot,' the hound replies, 'On what fleet nerves the greyhound flies, _20 While I, with weary step and slow, O'er plains and vales, and mountains go. The morning sees my chase begun, Nor ends it till the setting sun.' 'When,' says the greyhound, 'I pursue, My game is lost, or caught in view; Beyond my sight the prey's secure: The hound is slow, but always sure. And had I his sagacious scent, Jove ne'er had heard my discontent.' _30 The lion craved the fox's art; The fox, the lion's force and heart: The cock implored the pigeon's flight, Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light: The pigeon strength of wing despised, And the cock's matchless valour prized: The fishes wished to graze the plain; The beasts to skim beneath the main. Thus, envious of another's state, Each blamed the partial hand of Fate. _40 The bird of heaven then cried aloud, 'Jove bids disperse the murmuring crowd; The god rejects your idle prayers. Would ye, rebellious mutineers, Entirely change your name and nature, And be the very envied creature? What, silent all, and none consent! Be happy then, and learn content: Nor imitate the restless mind, And proud ambition, of mankind.' _50

* * * * *

FABLE V.

THE WILD BOAR AND THE RAM.

Against an elm a sheep was tied, The butcher's knife in blood was dyed: The patient flock in silent fright, From far beheld the horrid sight. A savage boar, who near them stood, Thus mocked to scorn the fleecy brood. 'All cowards should be served like you. See, see, your murderer is in view: With purple hands and reeking knife, He strips the skin yet warm with life; 10 Your quartered sires, your bleeding dams, The dying bleat of harmless lambs, Call for revenge. O stupid race! The heart that wants revenge is base.' 'I grant.' an ancient ram replies, 'We bear no terror in our eyes; Yet think us not of soul so tame, Which no repeated wrongs inflame; Insensible of every ill, Because we want thy tusks to kill. 20 Know, those who violence pursue, Give to themselves the vengeance due; For in these massacres we find The two chief plagues that waste mankind: Our skin supplies the wrangling bar, It wakes their slumbering sons to war; And well revenge may rest contented, Since drums and parchment were invented.'

* * * * *

FABLE VI.

THE MISER AND PLUTUS.

The wind was high, the window shakes, With sudden start the miser wakes; Along the silent room he stalks; Looks back, and trembles as he walks! Each lock and every bolt he tries, In every creek and corner prys, Then opes the chest with treasure stored, And stands in rapture o'er his hoard; But, now with sudden qualms possess'd, He wrings his hands, he beats his breast. _10 By conscience stung, he wildly stares; And thus his guilty soul declares: 'Had the deep earth her stores confined, This heart had known sweet peace of mind. But virtue's sold. Good gods, what price Can recompense the pangs of vice! O bane of good! seducing cheat! Can man, weak man, thy power defeat? Gold banished honour from the mind, And only left the name behind; _20 Gold sowed the world with every ill; Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill: 'Twas gold instructed coward hearts, In treachery's more pernicious arts. Who can recount the mischiefs o'er? Virtue resides on earth no more!' He spoke, and sighed. In angry mood, Plutus, his god, before him stood. The miser, trembling, locked his chest; The vision frowned, and thus address'd: _30 'Whence is this vile ungrateful rant? Each sordid rascal's daily cant. Did I, base wretch, corrupt mankind? The fault's in thy rapacious mind. Because my blessings are abused, Must I be censured, cursed, accused? Even virtue's self by knaves is made A cloak to carry on the trade; And power (when lodged in their possession) Grows tyranny, and rank oppression. _40 Thus, when the villain crams his chest, Gold is the canker of the breast; 'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride, And every shocking vice beside. But when to virtuous hands 'tis given, It blesses, like the dews of heaven: Like Heaven, it hears the orphan's cries, And wipes the tears from widows' eyes; Their crimes on gold shall misers lay, Who pawned their sordid souls for pay? _50 Let bravoes then (when blood is spilt) Upbraid the passive sword with guilt.'

* * * * *

FABLE VII.

THE LION, THE FOX, AND THE GEESE.

A lion, tired with state affairs, Quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares, Resolved (remote from noise and strife) In peace to pass his latter life. It was proclaimed; the day was set; Behold the general council met, The fox was viceroy named. The crowd To the new regent humbly bowed. Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend, And strive who most shall condescend. 10 He straight assumes a solemn grace, Collects his wisdom in his face. The crowd admire his wit, his sense: Each word hath weight and consequence. The flatterer all his art displays: He who hath power, is sure of praise. A fox stept forth before the rest, And thus the servile throng address'd. 'How vast his talents, born to rule, And trained in virtue's honest school: 20 What clemency his temper sways! How uncorrupt are all his ways! Beneath his conduct and command, Rapine shall cease to waste the land. His brain hath stratagem and art; Prudence and mercy rule his heart; What blessings must attend the nation Under this good administration!' He said. A goose who distant stood, Harangued apart the cackling brood: 30 'W'hene'er I hear a knave commend, He bids me shun his worthy friend. What praise! what mighty commendation! But 'twas a fox who spoke the oration. Foxes this government may prize, As gentle, plentiful, and wise; If they enjoy the sweets, 'tis plain We geese must feel a tyrant reign. What havoc now shall thin our race, When every petty clerk in place, 40 To prove his taste and seem polite, Will feed on geese both noon and night!'

* * * * *

FABLE VIII.

THE LADY AND THE WASP.

What whispers must the beauty bear! What hourly nonsense haunts her ear! Where'er her eyes dispense their charms, Impertinence around her swarms. Did not the tender nonsense strike, Contempt and scorn might soon dislike. Forbidding airs might thin the place, The slightest flap a fly can chase. But who can drive the numerous breed? Chase one, another will succeed. _10 Who knows a fool, must know his brother; One fop will recommend another: And with this plague she's rightly curs'd, Because she listened to the first. As Doris, at her toilet's duty, Sat meditating on her beauty, She now was pensive, now was gay, And lolled the sultry hours away. As thus in indolence she lies, A giddy wasp around her flies. _20 He now advances, now retires, Now to her neck and cheek aspires. Her fan in vain defends her charms; Swift he returns, again alarms; For by repulse he bolder grew, Perched on her lip, and sipp'd the dew. She frowns, she frets. 'Good God!' she cries, 'Protect me from these teasing flies! Of all the plagues that heaven hath sent, A wasp is most impertinent.' _30 The hovering insect thus complained: 'Am I then slighted, scorned, disdained? Can such offence your anger wake? 'Twas beauty caused the bold mistake. Those cherry lips that breathe perfume, That cheek so ripe with youthful bloom, Made me with strong desire pursue The fairest peach that ever grew.' 'Strike him not, Jenny,' Doris cries, 'Nor murder wasps like vulgar flies: _40 For though he's free (to do him right) The creature's civil and polite.' In ecstacies away he posts; Where'er he came, the favour boasts; Brags how her sweetest tea he sips, And shows the sugar on his lips. The hint alarmed the forward crew; Sure of success, away they flew. They share the dainties of the day, Round her with airy music play; _50 And now they flutter, now they rest, Now soar again, and skim her breast. Nor were they banished, till she found That wasps have stings, and felt the wound.

* * * * *

FABLE IX.

THE BULL AND THE MASTIFF.

Seek you to train your fav'rite boy? Each caution, every care employ: And ere you venture to confide, Let his preceptor's heart be tried: Weigh well his manners, life, and scope; On these depends thy future hope. As on a time, in peaceful reign, A bull enjoyed the flowery plain, A mastiff passed; inflamed with ire, His eye-balls shot indignant fire; _10 He foamed, he raged with thirst of blood Spurning the ground the monarch stood, And roared aloud, 'Suspend the fight; In a whole skin go sleep to-night: Or tell me, ere the battle rage, What wrongs provoke thee to engage? Is it ambition fires thy breast, Or avarice that ne'er can rest? From these alone unjustly springs The world-destroying wrath of kings.' _20 The surly mastiff thus returns: 'Within my bosom glory burns. Like heroes of eternal name, Whom poets sing, I fight for fame. The butcher's spirit-stirring mind To daily war my youth inclined; He trained me to heroic deed; Taught me to conquer, or to bleed.' 'Cursed dog,' the bull replied, 'no more I wonder at thy thirst of gore; _30 For thou, beneath a butcher trained, Whose hands with cruelty are stained; His daily murders in thy view, Must, like thy tutor, blood pursue. Take then thy fate.' With goring wound, At once he lifts him from the ground; Aloft the sprawling hero flies, Mangled he falls, he howls, and dies.

* * * * *

FABLE X.

THE ELEPHANT AND THE BOOKSELLER.

The man who, with undaunted toils, Sails unknown seas to unknown soils, With various wonders feasts his sight: What stranger wonders does he write! We read, and in description view Creatures which Adam never knew: For, when we risk no contradiction, It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction. Those things that startle me or you, I grant are strange; yet may be true. _10 Who doubts that elephants are found For science and for sense renowned? Borri records their strength of parts, Extent of thought, and skill in arts; How they perform the law's decrees, And save the state the hangman's fees; And how by travel understand The language of another land. Let those, who question this report, To Pliny's ancient page resort; _20 How learn'd was that sagacious breed! Who now (like them) the Greek can read! As one of these, in days of yore, Rummaged a shop of learning o'er; Not, like our modern dealers, minding Only the margin's breadth and binding; A book his curious eye detains, Where, with exactest care and pains, Were every beast and bird portrayed, That e'er the search of man surveyed, _30 Their natures and their powers were writ, With all the pride of human wit. The page he with attention spread, And thus remarked on what he read: 'Man with strong reason is endowed; A beast scarce instinct is allowed. But let this author's worth be tried, 'Tis plain that neither was his guide. Can he discern the different natures, And weigh the power of other creatures _40 Who by the partial work hath shown He knows so little of his own? How falsely is the spaniel drawn! Did man from him first learn to fawn? A dog proficient in the trade! He the chief flatterer nature made! Go, man, the ways of courts discern, You'll find a spaniel still might learn. How can the fox's theft and plunder Provoke his censure or his wonder; _50 From courtiers' tricks, and lawyers' arts, The fox might well improve his parts. The lion, wolf, and tiger's brood, He curses, for their thirst of blood: But is not man to man a prey? Beasts kill for hunger, men for pay.' The bookseller, who heard him speak, And saw him turn a page of Greek, Thought, what a genius have I found! Then thus addressed with bow profound: _60 'Learn'd sir, if you'd employ your pen Against the senseless sons of men, Or write the history of Siam, [2] No man is better pay than I am; Or, since you're learn'd in Greek, let's see Something against the Trinity.' When wrinkling with a sneer his trunk, 'Friend,' quoth the elephant, 'you're drunk; E'en keep your money and be wise: Leave man on man to criticise; _70 For that you ne'er can want a pen Among the senseless sons of men. They unprovoked will court the fray: Envy's a sharper spur than pay. No author ever spared a brother; Wits are game-cocks to one another.'

* * * * *

FABLE XI.

THE PEACOCK, THE TURKEY, AND THE GOOSE.

In beauty faults conspicuous grow; The smallest speck is seen on snow. As near a barn, by hunger led, A peacock with the poultry fed; All viewed him with an envious eye, And mocked his gaudy pageantry. He, conscious of superior merit, Contemns their base reviling spirit; His state and dignity assumes, And to the sun displays his plumes; 10 Which, like the heaven's o'er-arching skies, Are spangled with a thousand eyes. The circling rays, and varied light, At once confound their dazzled sight: On every tongue detraction burns, And malice prompts their spleen by turns. 'Mark, with what insolence and pride The creature takes his haughty stride!' The turkey cries. 'Can spleen contain? Sure never bird was half so vain! 20 But were intrinsic merit seen, We turkeys have the whiter skin.' From tongue to tongue they caught abuse; And next was heard the hissing goose: 'What hideous legs! what filthy claws! I scorn to censure little flaws! Then what a horrid squalling throat! Even owls are frighted at the note.' 'True; those are faults,' the peacock cries; 'My scream, my shanks you may despise: 30 But such blind critics rail in vain: What, overlook my radiant train! Know, did my legs (your scorn and sport) The turkey or the goose support, And did ye scream with harsher sound, Those faults in you had ne'er been found! To all apparent beauties blind, Each blemish strikes an envious mind.' Thus in assemblies have I seen A nymph of brightest charms and mien, 40 Wake envy in each ugly face; And buzzing scandal fills the place.

* * * * *

FABLE XII.

CUPID, HYMEN, AND PLUTUS.

As Cupid in Cythera's grove Employed the lesser powers of love; Some shape the bow, or fit the string; Some give the taper shaft its wing, Or turn the polished quiver's mould, Or head the dart with tempered gold. Amidst their toil and various care, Thus Hymen, with assuming air, Addressed the god: 'Thou purblind chit, Of awkward and ill-judging wit, 10 If matches are not better made, At once I must forswear my trade. You send me such ill-coupled folks, That 'tis a shame to sell them yokes. They squabble for a pin, a feather, And wonder how they came together. The husband's sullen, dogged, shy; The wife grows flippant in reply: He loves command and due restriction, And she as well likes contradiction: 20 She never slavishly submits; She'll have her will, or have her fits. He this way tugs, she t'other draws: The man grows jealous, and with cause. Nothing can save him but divorce; And here the wife complies of course.' 'When,' says the boy, 'had I to do With either your affairs or you? I never idly spent my darts; You trade in mercenary hearts. 30 For settlements the lawyer's fee'd; Is my hand witness to the deed? If they like cat and dog agree, Go, rail at Plutus, not at me.' Plutus appeared, and said, ''Tis true, In marriage gold is all their view: They seek not beauty, wit, or sense; And love is seldom the pretence. All offer incense at my shrine, And I alone the bargain sign. 40 How can Belinda blame her fate? She only asked a great estate. Doris was rich enough, 'tis true; Her lord must give her title too: And every man, or rich or poor, A fortune asks, and asks no more.' Av'rice, whatever shape it bears, Must still be coupled with its cares.

* * * * *

FABLE XIII.

THE TAME STAG.

As a young stag the thicket pass'd, The branches held his antlers fast; A clown, who saw the captive hung, Across the horns his halter flung. Now safely hampered in the cord, He bore the present to his lord. His lord was pleased; as was the clown, When he was tipp'd with half-a-crown. The stag was brought before his wife; The tender lady begged his life. _10 'How sleek's the skin! how speck'd like ermine! Sure never creature was so charming!' At first within the yard confined, He flies and hides from all mankind; Now bolder grown, with fixed amaze, And distant awe, presumes to gaze; Munches the linen on the lines, And on a hood or apron dines: He steals my little master's bread, Follows the servants to be fed: _20 Nearer and nearer now he stands, To feel the praise of patting hands; Examines every fist for meat, And though repulsed, disdains retreat: Attacks again with levelled horns; And man, that was his terror, scorns. Such is the country maiden's fright, When first a red-coat is in sight; Behind the door she hides her face; Next time at distance eyes the lace; _30 She now can all his terrors stand, Nor from his squeeze withdraws her hand. She plays familiar in his arms, And every soldier hath his charms. From tent to tent she spreads her flame; For custom conquers fear and shame.

* * * * *

FABLE XIV.

THE MONKEY WHO HAD SEEN THE WORLD.

A Monkey, to reform the times, Resolved to visit foreign climes: For men in distant regions roam To bring politer manners home, So forth he fares, all toil defies: Misfortune serves to make us wise. At length the treach'rous snare was laid; Poor Pug was caught, to town conveyed, There sold. How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady's room! 10 Proud as a lover of his chains, He day by day her favour gains. Whene'er the duty of the day The toilet calls; with mimic play He twirls her knot, he cracks her fan, Like any other gentleman. In visits too his parts and wit, When jests grew dull, were sure to hit. Proud with applause, he thought his mind In every courtly art refined; 20 Like Orpheus burnt with public zeal, To civilise the monkey weal: So watched occasion, broke his chain, And sought his native woods again. The hairy sylvans round him press, Astonished at his strut and dress. Some praise his sleeve; and others gloat Upon his rich embroidered coat; His dapper periwig commending, With the black tail behind depending; 30 His powdered back, above, below, Like hoary frost, or fleecy snow; But all with envy and desire, His fluttering shoulder-knot admire. 'Hear and improve,' he pertly cries; 'I come to make a nation wise. Weigh your own words; support your place, The next in rank to human race. In cities long I passed my days, Conversed with men, and learnt their ways. 40 Their dress, their courtly manners see; Reform your state and copy me. Seek ye to thrive? in flattery deal; Your scorn, your hate, with that conceal. Seem only to regard your friends, But use them for your private ends. Stint not to truth the flow of wit; Be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit. Bend all your force to spatter merit; Scandal is conversation's spirit. 50 Boldly to everything attend, And men your talents shall commend. I knew the great. Observe me right; So shall you grow like man polite.' He spoke and bowed. With muttering jaws The wondering circle grinned applause. Now, warm with malice, envy, spite, Their most obliging friends they bite; And fond to copy human ways, Practise new mischiefs all their days. 60 Thus the dull lad, too tall for school, With travel finishes the fool; Studious of every coxcomb's airs, He drinks, games, dresses, whores, and swears; O'erlooks with scorn all virtuous arts, For vice is fitted to his parts.

* * * * *

FABLE XV.

THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE PHEASANTS.

The sage, awaked at early day, Through the deep forest took his way; Drawn by the music of the groves, Along the winding gloom he roves: From tree to tree, the warbling throats Prolong the sweet alternate notes. But where he pass'd, he terror threw, The song broke short, the warblers flew; The thrushes chattered with affright, And nightingales abhorred his sight; 10 All animals before him ran, To shun the hateful sight of man. 'Whence is this dread of every creature? Fly they our figure or our nature?' As thus he walked in musing thought, His ear imperfect accents caught; With cautious step he nearer drew, By the thick shade concealed from view. High on the branch a pheasant stood, Around her all her listening brood; 20 Proud of the blessings of her nest, She thus a mother's care expressed: 'No dangers here shall circumvent, Within the woods enjoy content. Sooner the hawk or vulture trust, Than man; of animals the worst: In him ingratitude you find, A vice peculiar to the kind. The sheep whose annual fleece is dyed, To guard his health, and serve his pride, 30 Forced from his fold and native plain, Is in the cruel shambles slain. The swarms, who, with industrious skill, His hives with wax and honey fill, In vain whole summer days employed, Their stores are sold, their race destroyed. What tribute from the goose is paid! Does not her wing all science aid! Does it not lovers' hearts explain, And drudge to raise the merchant's gain? 40 What now rewards this general use? He takes the quills, and eats the goose. Man then avoid, detest his ways; So safety shall prolong your days. When services are thus acquitted, Be sure we pheasants must be spitted.'

* * * * *

FABLE XVI.

THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE.

A pin, who long had served a beauty, Proficient in the toilet's duty, Had formed her sleeve, confined her hair, Or given her knot a smarter air, Now nearest to her heart was placed, Now in her mantua's tail disgraced: But could she partial fortune blame, Who saw her lovers served the same? At length from all her honours cast; Through various turns of life she pass'd; 10 Now glittered on a tailor's arm; Now kept a beggar's infant warm; Now, ranged within a miser's coat, Contributes to his yearly groat; Now, raised again from low approach, She visits in the doctor's coach; Here, there, by various fortune toss'd, At last in Gresham Hall[3] was lost. Charmed with the wonders of the show, On every side, above, below, 20 She now of this or that enquires, What least was understood admires. 'Tis plain, each thing so struck her mind. Her head's of virtuoso kind. 'And pray what's this, and this, dear sir?' 'A needle,' says the interpreter. She knew the name. And thus the fool Addressed her as a tailor's tool: 'A needle with that filthy stone, Quite idle, all with rust o'ergrown! 30 You better might employ your parts, And aid the sempstress in her arts. But tell me how the friendship grew Between that paltry flint and you?' 'Friend,' says the needle, 'cease to blame; I follow real worth and fame. Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art, That virtue virtues can impart? Of all his talents I partake, Who then can such a friend forsake? 40 'Tis I directs the pilot's hand To shun the rocks and treacherous sand: By me the distant world is known, And either India is our own. Had I with milliners been bred, What had I been? the guide of thread, And drudged as vulgar needles do, Of no more consequence than you.'

* * * * *

FABLE XVII.

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND THE WOLF.

A wolf, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold: Deep in the wood secure he lay, The thefts of night regaled the day. In vain the shepherd's wakeful care Had spread the toils, and watched the snare: In vain the dog pursued his pace, The fleeter robber mocked the chase. As Lightfoot ranged the forest round, By chance his foe's retreat he found. _10 'Let us awhile the war suspend, And reason as from friend to friend.' 'A truce?' replies the wolf. 'Tis done. The dog the parley thus begun: 'How can that strong intrepid mind Attack a weak defenceless kind? Those jaws should prey on nobler food, And drink the boar's and lion's blood; Great souls with generous pity melt, Which coward tyrants never felt. _20 How harmless is our fleecy care! Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.' 'Friend,' says the wolf, 'the matter weigh; Nature designed us beasts of prey; As such when hunger finds a treat, 'Tis necessary wolves should eat. If mindful of the bleating weal, Thy bosom burn with real zeal; Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech; To him repeat the moving speech; _30 A wolf eats sheep but now and then, Ten thousands are devoured by men. An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse.'

* * * * *

FABLE XVIII.

THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY AND EVERYBODY.

Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view. The traveller leaping o'er those bounds, The credit of his book confounds. Who with his tongue hath armies routed, Makes even his real courage doubted: But flattery never seems absurd; The flattered always take your word: Impossibilities seem just; They take the strongest praise on trust. 10 Hyperboles, though ne'er so great, Will still come short of self-conceit. So very like a painter drew, That every eye the picture knew; He hit complexion, feature, air, So just, the life itself was there. No flattery with his colours laid, To bloom restored the faded maid; He gave each muscle all its strength, The mouth, the chin, the nose's length. 20 His honest pencil touched with truth, And marked the date of age and youth. He lost his friends, his practice failed; Truth should not always be revealed; In dusty piles his pictures lay, For no one sent the second pay. Two busts, fraught with every grace A Venus' and Apollo's face, He placed in view; resolved to please, Whoever sat, he drew from these, 30 From these corrected every feature, And spirited each awkward creature. All things were set; the hour was come, His pallet ready o'er his thumb, My lord appeared; and seated right In proper attitude and light, The painter looked, he sketched the piece, Then dipp'd his pencil, talked of Greece, Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air; 'Those eyes, my lord, the spirit there 40 Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire; The features fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant are very hard to hit; But yet with patience you shall view As much as paint and art can do. Observe the work.' My lord replied: 'Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Besides, my mouth is somewhat long; Dear sir, for me, 'tis far too young.' 50 'Oh! pardon me,' the artist cried, 'In this, the painters must decide. The piece even common eyes must strike, I warrant it extremely like.' My lord examined it anew; No looking-glass seemed half so true. A lady came, with borrowed grace He from his Venus formed her face. Her lover praised the painter's art; So like the picture in his heart! 60 To every age some charm he lent; Even beauties were almost content. Through all the town his art they praised; His custom grew, his price was raised. Had he the real likeness shown, Would any man the picture own? But when thus happily he wrought, Each found the likeness in his thought.

* * * * *

FABLE XIX.

THE LION AND THE CUB.

How fond are men of rule and place, Who court it from the mean and base! These cannot bear an equal nigh, But from superior merit fly. They love the cellar's vulgar joke, And lose their hours in ale and smoke. There o'er some petty club preside; So poor, so paltry is their pride! Nay, even with fools whole nights will sit, In hopes to be supreme in wit. _10 If these can read, to these I write, To set their worth in truest light. A lion-cub, of sordid mind, Avoided all the lion kind; Fond of applause, he sought the feasts Of vulgar and ignoble beasts; With asses all his time he spent, Their club's perpetual president. He caught their manners, looks, and airs; An ass in every thing, but ears! _20 If e'er his highness meant a joke, They grinned applause before he spoke; But at each word what shouts of praise! Good gods! how natural he brays! Elate with flattery and conceit, He seeks his royal sire's retreat; Forward, and fond to show his parts, His highness brays; the lion starts. 'Puppy, that cursed vociferation Betrays thy life and conversation: _30

Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race, Are trumpets of their own disgrace.' 'Why so severe?' the cub replies; 'Our senate always held me wise.' 'How weak is pride!' returns the sire; 'All fools are vain, when fools admire! But know what stupid asses prize, Lions and noble beasts despise.'

* * * * *

FABLE XX.

THE OLD HEN AND THE COCK.

Restrain your child; you'll soon believe The text which says, we sprung from Eve. As an old hen led forth her train, And seemed to peck to shew the grain; She raked the chaff, she scratched the ground, And gleaned the spacious yard around. A giddy chick, to try her wings, On the well's narrow margin springs, And prone she drops. The mother's breast All day with sorrow was possess'd. 10 A cock she met; her son she knew; And in her heart affection grew. 'My son,' says she, 'I grant your years Have reached beyond a mother's cares; I see you vig'rous, strong, and bold; I hear with joy your triumphs told. Tis not from cocks thy fate I dread; But let thy ever-wary tread Avoid yon well; that fatal place Is sure perdition to our race. 20 Print this my counsel on thy breast; To the just gods I leave the rest.' He thanked her care; yet day by day His bosom burned to disobey; And every time the well he saw, Scorned in his heart the foolish law: Near and more near each day he drew, And longed to try the dangerous view. 'Why was this idle charge?' he cries; 'Let courage female fears despise. 30 Or did she doubt my heart was brave, And therefore this injunction gave? Or does her harvest store the place, A treasure for her younger race? And would she thus my search prevent? I stand resolved, and dare the event.' Thus said. He mounts the margin's round, And pries into the depth profound. He stretched his neck; and from below With stretching neck advanced a foe: 40 With wrath his ruffled plumes he rears, The foe with ruffled plumes appears: Threat answered threat, his fury grew, Headlong to meet the war he flew, But when the watery death he found, He thus lamented as he drowned: 'I ne'er had been in this condition, But for my mother's prohibition.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXI.

THE RAT-CATCHER AND CATS.

The rats by night such mischief did, Betty was every morning chid. They undermined whole sides of bacon, Her cheese was sapped, her tarts were taken. Her pasties, fenced with thickest paste, Were all demolished, and laid waste. She cursed the cat for want of duty, Who left her foes a constant booty. An engineer, of noted skill, Engaged to stop the growing ill. _10 From room to room he now surveys Their haunts, their works, their secret ways; Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade, And whence the nightly sally's made. An envious cat from place to place, Unseen, attends his silent pace. She saw, that if his trade went on, The purring race must be undone; So, secretly removes his baits, And every stratagem defeats. _20 Again he sets the poisoned toils, And puss again the labour foils. 'What foe (to frustrate my designs) My schemes thus nightly countermines?' Incensed, he cries: 'this very hour This wretch shall bleed beneath my power.' So said. A pond'rous trap he brought, And in the fact poor puss was caught. 'Smuggler,' says he, 'thou shalt be made A victim to our loss of trade.' _30 The captive cat, with piteous mews, For pardon, life, and freedom sues: 'A sister of the science spare; One interest is our common care.' 'What insolence!' the man replied; 'Shall cats with us the game divide? Were all your interloping band Extinguished, of expelled the land, We rat-catchers might raise our fees, Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!' _40 A cat, who saw the lifted knife, Thus spoke, and saved her sister's life: 'In every age and clime we see, Two of a trade can ne'er agree. Each hates his neighbour for encroaching; Squire stigmatises squire for poaching; Beauties with beauties are in arms, And scandal pelts each other's charms; Kings too their neighbour kings dethrone, In hope to make the world their own. _50 But let us limit our desires; Nor war like beauties, kings, and squires! For though we both one prey pursue, There's game enough for us and you.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXII.

THE GOAT WITHOUT A BEARD.

'Tis certain, that the modish passions Descend among the crowd, like fashions. Excuse me then, if pride, conceit, (The manners of the fair and great) I give to monkeys, asses, dogs, Fleas, owls, goats, butterflies, and hogs. I say that these are proud. What then? I never said they equal men. A goat (as vain as goat can be) Affected singularity. _10 Whene'er a thymy bank he found, He rolled upon the fragrant ground; And then with fond attention stood, Fixed o'er his image in the flood. 'I hate my frowsy beard,' he cries; 'My youth is lost in this disguise. Did not the females know my vigour, Well might they loathe this reverend figure.' Resolved to smoothe his shaggy face, He sought the barber of the place. _20 A flippant monkey, spruce and smart, Hard by, professed the dapper art; His pole with pewter basins hung, Black rotten teeth in order strung, Ranged cups that in the window stood, Lined with red rags, to look like blood, Did well his threefold trade explain, Who shaved, drew teeth, and breathed a vein. The goat he welcomes with an air, And seats him in his wooden chair: _30 Mouth, nose, and cheek the lather hides: Light, smooth, and swift the razor glides. 'I hope your custom, sir,' says pug. 'Sure never face was half so smug.' The goat, impatient for applause, Swift to the neighbouring hill withdraws: The shaggy people grinned and stared. 'Heyday! what's here? without a beard! Say, brother, whence the dire disgrace? What envious hand hath robbed your face?' _40 When thus the fop with smiles of scorn: 'Are beards by civil nations worn? Even Muscovites have mowed their chins. Shall we, like formal Capuchins, Stubborn in pride, retain the mode, And bear about the hairy load? Whene'er we through the village stray, Are we not mocked along the way; Insulted with loud shouts of scorn, By boys our beards disgraced and torn?' _50 'Were you no more with goats to dwell, Brother, I grant you reason well,' Replies a bearded chief. 'Beside, If boys can mortify thy pride, How wilt thou stand the ridicule Of our whole flock? Affected fool! Coxcombs, distinguished from the rest, To all but coxcombs are a jest.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXIII.

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER CATS.

Who friendship with a knave hath made, Is judged a partner in the trade. The matron who conducts abroad A willing nymph, is thought a bawd; And if a modest girl is seen With one who cures a lover's spleen, We guess her not extremely nice, And only wish to know her price. 'Tis thus that on the choice of friends Our good or evil name depends. 10 A wrinkled hag, of wicked fame, Beside a little smoky flame Sate hovering, pinched with age and frost; Her shrivelled hands, with veins embossed, Upon her knees her weight sustains, While palsy shook her crazy brains: She mumbles forth her backward prayers, An untamed scold of fourscore years. About her swarmed a numerous brood Of cats, who, lank with hunger, mewed. 20 Teased with their cries, her choler grew, And thus she sputtered: 'Hence, ye crew. Fool that I was, to entertain Such imps, such fiends, a hellish train! Had ye been never housed and nursed, I, for a witch had ne'er been cursed. To you I owe, that crowds of boys Worry me with eternal noise; Straws laid across, my pace retard, The horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's guard), 30 The stunted broom the wenches hide, For fear that I should up and ride; They stick with pins my bleeding seat, And bid me show my secret teat.' 'To hear you prate would vex a saint; Who hath most reason of complaint?' Replies a cat. 'Let's come to proof. Had we ne'er starved beneath your roof, We had, like others of our race, In credit lived as beasts of chase. 40 'Tis infamy to serve a hag; Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag; And boys against our lives combine, Because, 'tis said, you cats have nine.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXIV.

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SNAIL.

All upstarts insolent in place, Remind us of their vulgar race. As, in the sunshine of the morn, A butterfly (but newly born) Sat proudly perking on a rose; With pert conceit his bosom glows; His wings (all-glorious to behold) Bedropp'd with azure, jet, and gold, Wide he displays; the spangled dew Reflects his eyes, and various hue. 10 His now-forgotten friend, a snail, Beneath his house, with slimy trail Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies, In wrath he to the gard'ner cries: 'What means yon peasant's daily toil, From choking weeds to rid the soil? Why wake you to the morning's care, Why with new arts correct the year, Why glows the peach with crimson hue, And why the plum's inviting blue; 20 Were they to feast his taste design'd, That vermin of voracious kind? Crush then the slow, the pilfering race; So purge thy garden from disgrace.' 'What arrogance!' the snail replied; 'How insolent is upstart pride! Hadst thou not thus with insult vain, Provoked my patience to complain, I had concealed thy meaner birth, Nor traced thee to the scum of earth. 30 For scarce nine suns have waked the hours, To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers, Since I thy humbler life surveyed, In base, in sordid guise arrayed; A hideous insect, vile, unclean, You dragged a slow and noisome train; And from your spider-bowels drew Foul film, and spun the dirty clew. I own my humble life, good friend; Snail was I born, and snail shall end. 40 And what's a butterfly? At best, He's but a caterpillar, dress'd; And all thy race (a numerous seed) Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXV.

THE SCOLD AND THE PARROT.

The husband thus reproved his wife: 'Who deals in slander, lives in strife. Art thou the herald of disgrace, Denouncing war to all thy race? Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage, Which spares no friend, nor sex, nor age? That vixen tongue of yours, my dear, Alarms our neighbours far and near. Good gods! 'tis like a rolling river, That murmuring flows, and flows for ever! 10 Ne'er tired, perpetual discord sowing! Like fame, it gathers strength by going.' 'Heyday!' the flippant tongue replies, How solemn is the fool, how wise! Is nature's choicest gift debarred? Nay, frown not; for I will be heard. Women of late are finely ridden, A parrot's privilege forbidden! You praise his talk, his squalling song; But wives are always in the wrong.' 20 Now reputations flew in pieces, Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces. She ran the parrot's language o'er, Bawd, hussy, drunkard, slattern, whore; On all the sex she vents her fury, Tries and condemns without a jury. At once the torrent of her words Alarmed cat, monkey, dogs, and birds: All join their forces to confound her; Puss spits, the monkey chatters round her; 30 The yelping cur her heels assaults; The magpie blabs out all her faults; Poll, in the uproar, from his cage, With this rebuke out-screamed her rage: 'A parrot is for talking prized, But prattling women are despised. She who attacks another's honour, Draws every living thing upon her. Think, madam, when you stretch your lungs, That all your neighbours too have tongues. 40 One slander must ten thousand get, The world with interest pays the debt.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXVI.

THE CUR AND THE MASTIFF.

A sneaking cur, the master's spy, Rewarded for his daily lie, With secret jealousies and fears Set all together by the ears. Poor puss to-day was in disgrace, Another cat supplied her place; The hound was beat, the mastiff chid, The monkey was the room forbid; Each to his dearest friend grew shy, And none could tell the reason why. _10 A plan to rob the house was laid, The thief with love seduced the maid; Cajoled the cur, and stroked his head, And bought his secrecy with bread. He next the mastiff's honour tried, Whose honest jaws the bribe defied. He stretched his hand to proffer more; The surly dog his fingers tore. Swift ran the cur; with indignation The master took his information. _20 'Hang him, the villain's cursed,' he cries; And round his neck the halter ties. The dog his humble suit preferred, And begged in justice to be heard. The master sat. On either hand The cited dogs confronting stand; The cur the bloody tale relates, And, like a lawyer, aggravates. 'Judge not unheard,' the mastiff cried, 'But weigh the cause on either side. _30 Think not that treachery can be just, Take not informers' words on trust. They ope their hand to every pay, And you and me by turns betray.' He spoke. And all the truth appeared, The cur was hanged, the mastiff cleared.

* * * * *

FABLE XXVII.

THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.

'Is there no hope?' the sick man said. The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow. When thus the man with gasping breath; 'I feel the chilling wound of death: Since I must bid the world adieu, Let me my former life review. I grant, my bargains well were made, But all men over-reach in trade; _10

'Tis self-defence in each profession, Sure self-defence is no transgression. The little portion in my hands, By good security on lands, Is well increased. If unawares, My justice to myself and heirs, Hath let my debtor rot in jail, For want of good sufficient bail; If I by writ, or bond, or deed, Reduced a family to need, 20 My will hath made the world amends; My hope on charity depends. When I am numbered with the dead, And all my pious gifts are read, By heaven and earth 'twill then be known My charities were amply shown' An angel came. 'Ah, friend!' he cried, 'No more in flattering hope confide. Can thy good deeds in former times Outweigh the balance of thy crimes? 30 What widow or what orphan prays To crown thy life with length of days? A pious action's in thy power, Embrace with joy the happy hour. Now, while you draw the vital air, Prove your intention is sincere. This instant give a hundred pound; Your neighbours want, and you abound.' 'But why such haste?' the sick man whines; 'Who knows as yet what Heaven designs? 40 Perhaps I may recover still; That sum and more are in my will? 'Fool,' says the vision, 'now 'tis plain, Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain, From every side, with all your might, You scraped, and scraped beyond your right; And after death would fain atone, By giving what is not your own.' 'While there is life, there's hope,' he cried; 'Then why such haste?' so groaned and died. 50

* * * * *

FABLE XXVIII.

THE PERSIAN, THE SUN, AND THE CLOUD.

Is there a bard whom genius fires, Whose every thought the god inspires? When Envy reads the nervous lines, She frets, she rails, she raves, she pines; Her hissing snakes with venom swell; She calls her venal train from hell: The servile fiends her nod obey, And all Curl's[4] authors are in pay, Fame calls up calumny and spite. Thus shadow owes its birth to light. _10 As prostrate to the god of day, With heart devout, a Persian lay, His invocation thus begun: 'Parent of light, all-seeing Sun, Prolific beam, whose rays dispense The various gifts of providence, Accept our praise, our daily prayer, Smile on our fields, and bless the year.' A cloud, who mocked his grateful tongue, The day with sudden darkness hung; _20 With pride and envy swelled, aloud A voice thus thundered from the cloud: 'Weak is this gaudy god of thine, Whom I at will forbid to shine. Shall I nor vows, nor incense know? Where praise is due, the praise bestow.' With fervent zeal the Persian moved, Thus the proud calumny reproved: 'It was that god, who claims my prayer, Who gave thee birth, and raised thee there; _30 When o'er his beams the veil is thrown, Thy substance is but plainer shown. A passing gale, a puff of wind Dispels thy thickest troops combined.' The gale arose; the vapour toss'd (The sport of winds) in air was lost; The glorious orb the day refines. Thus envy breaks, thus merit shines.

* * * * *

FABLE XXIX.

THE FOX AT THE POINT OF DEATH.

A fox, in life's extreme decay, Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay; All appetite had left his maw, And age disarmed his mumbling jaw. His numerous race around him stand To learn their dying sire's command: He raised his head with whining moan, And thus was heard the feeble tone: 'Ah, sons! from evil ways depart: My crimes lie heavy on my heart. 10 See, see, the murdered geese appear! Why are those bleeding turkeys here? Why all around this cackling train, Who haunt my ears for chicken slain? The hungry foxes round them stared, And for the promised feast prepared. 'Where, sir, is all this dainty cheer? Nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here. These are the phantoms of your brain, And your sons lick their lips in vain.' 20 'O gluttons!' says the drooping sire, 'Restrain inordinate desire. Your liqu'rish taste you shall deplore, When peace of conscience is no more. Does not the hound betray our pace, And gins and guns destroy our race? Thieves dread the searching eye of power, And never feel the quiet hour. Old age (which few of us shall know) Now puts a period to my woe. 30 Would you true happiness attain, Let honesty your passions rein; So live in credit and esteem, And the good name you lost, redeem.' 'The counsel's good,' a fox replies, 'Could we perform what you advise. Think what our ancestors have done; A line of thieves from son to son: To us descends the long disgrace, And infamy hath marked our race. 40 Though we, like harmless sheep, should feed, Honest in thought, in word, and deed; Whatever henroost is decreased, We shall be thought to share the feast. The change shall never be believed, A lost good name is ne'er retrieved.' 'Nay, then,' replies the feeble fox, '(But hark! I hear a hen that clocks) Go, but be moderate in your food; A chicken too might do me good.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXX.

THE SETTING-DOG AND THE PARTRIDGE.

The ranging dog the stubble tries, And searches every breeze that flies; The scent grows warm; with cautious fear He creeps, and points the covey near; The men, in silence, far behind, Conscious of game, the net unbind. A partridge, with experience wise, The fraudful preparation spies: She mocks their toils, alarms her brood; The covey springs, and seeks the wood; _10 But ere her certain wing she tries, Thus to the creeping spaniel cries: 'Thou fawning slave to man's deceit, Thou pimp of luxury, sneaking cheat, Of thy whole species thou disgrace, Dogs shall disown thee of their race! For if I judge their native parts, They're born with open, honest hearts; And, ere they serve man's wicked ends, Were generous foes, or real friends.' _20 When thus the dog, with scornful smile: 'Secure of wing, thou dar'st revile. Clowns are to polished manners blind, How ignorant is the rustic mind! My worth, sagacious courtiers see, And to preferment rise, like me. The thriving pimp, who beauty sets, Hath oft enhanced a nation's debts: Friend sets his friend, without regard; And ministers his skill reward: _30 Thus trained by man, I learnt his ways, And growing favour feasts my days.' 'I might have guessed,' the partridge said, 'The place where you were trained and fed; Servants are apt, and in a trice Ape to a hair their master's vice. You came from court, you say. Adieu,' She said, and to the covey flew.

* * * * *

FABLE XXXI.

THE UNIVERSAL APPARITION.

A rake, by every passion ruled, With every vice his youth had cooled; Disease his tainted blood assails; His spirits droop, his vigour fails; With secret ills at home he pines, And, like infirm old age, declines. As, twinged with pain, he pensive sits, And raves, and prays, and swears by fits, A ghastly phantom, lean and wan, Before him rose, and thus began: 10 'My name, perhaps, hath reached your ear; Attend, and be advised by Care. Nor love, nor honour, wealth, nor power, Can give the heart a cheerful hour, When health is lost. Be timely wise: With health all taste of pleasure flies.' Thus said, the phantom disappears. The wary counsel waked his fears: He now from all excess abstains, With physic purifies his veins; 20 And, to procure a sober life, Resolves to venture on a wife. But now again the sprite ascends, Where'er he walks his ear attends; Insinuates that beauty's frail, That perseverance must prevail; With jealousies his brain inflames, And whispers all her lovers' names. In other hours she represents His household charge, his annual rents, 30 Increasing debts, perplexing duns, And nothing for his younger sons. Straight all his thought to gain he turns, And with the thirst of lucre burns. But when possessed of fortune's store, The spectre haunts him more and more; Sets want and misery in view, Bold thieves, and all the murd'ring crew, Alarms him with eternal frights, Infests his dream, or wakes his nights. 40 How shall he chase this hideous guest? Power may perhaps protect his rest. To power he rose. Again the sprite Besets him, morning, noon, and night! Talks of ambition's tottering seat, How envy persecutes the great, Of rival hate, of treacherous friends, And what disgrace his fall attends. The Court he quits to fly from Care, And seeks the peace of rural air: 50 His groves, his fields, amused his hours; He pruned his trees, he raised his flowers. But Care again his steps pursues; Warns him of blasts, of blighting dews, Of plund'ring insects, snails, and rains, And droughts that starved the laboured plains. Abroad, at home, the spectre's there: In vain we seek to fly from Care. At length he thus the ghost address'd: 'Since thou must be my constant guest, 60 Be kind, and follow me no more; For Care by right should go before.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXXII.

THE TWO OWLS AND THE SPARROW.

Two formal owls together sat, Conferring thus in solemn chat: 'How is the modern taste decayed! Where's the respect to wisdom paid? Our worth the Grecian sages knew; They gave our sires the honour due; They weighed the dignity of fowls, And pried into the depth of owls. Athens, the seat of learned fame, With general voice revered our name; 10 On merit, title was conferred, And all adored the Athenian bird.' 'Brother, you reason well,' replies The solemn mate, with half-shut eyes; 'Right. Athens was the seat of learning, And truly wisdom is discerning. Besides, on Pallas' helm we sit, The type and ornament of wit: But now, alas! we're quite neglected, And a pert sparrow's more respected.' 20 A sparrow, who was lodged beside, O'erhears them soothe each other's pride, And thus he nimbly vents his heat: 'Who meets a fool must find conceit. I grant, you were at Athens graced, And on Minerva's helm were placed; But every bird that wings the sky, Except an owl, can tell you why. From hence they taught their schools to know How false we judge by outward show; 30 That we should never looks esteem, Since fools as wise as you might seem. Would ye contempt and scorn avoid, Let your vain-glory be destroyed: Humble your arrogance of thought, Pursue the ways by Nature taught; So shall you find delicious fare, And grateful farmers praise your care: So shall sleek mice your chase reward, And no keen cat find more regard.' 40

* * * * *

FABLE XXXIII.

THE COURTIER AND PROTEUS.

Whene'er a courtier's out of place The country shelters his disgrace; Where, doomed to exercise and health, His house and gardens own his wealth, He builds new schemes in hopes to gain The plunder of another reign; Like Philip's son, would fain be doing, And sighs for other realms to ruin. As one of these (without his wand) Pensive, along the winding strand _10 Employed the solitary hour, In projects to regain his power; The waves in spreading circles ran, Proteus arose, and thus began: 'Came you from Court? For in your mien A self-important air is seen. He frankly owned his friends had tricked him And how he fell his party's victim. 'Know,' says the god, 'by matchless skill I change to every shape at will; _20 But yet I'm told, at Court you see Those who presume to rival me.' Thus said. A snake with hideous trail, Proteus extends his scaly mail. 'Know,' says the man, 'though proud in place, All courtiers are of reptile race. Like you, they take that dreadful form, Bask in the sun, and fly the storm; With malice hiss, with envy gloat, And for convenience change their coat; _30 With new-got lustre rear their head, Though on a dunghill born and bred.' Sudden the god a lion stands; He shakes his mane, he spurns the sands; Now a fierce lynx, with fiery glare, A wolf, an ass, a fox, a bear. 'Had I ne'er lived at Court,' he cries, 'Such transformation might surprise; But there, in quest of daily game, Each able courtier acts the same. _40 Wolves, lions, lynxes, while in place, Their friends and fellows are their chase. They play the bear's and fox's part; Now rob by force, now steal with art. They sometimes in the senate bray; Or, changed again to beasts of prey, Down from the lion to the ape, Practise the frauds of every shape.' So said, upon the god he flies, In cords the struggling captive ties. _50 'Now, Proteus, now, (to truth compelled) Speak, and confess thy art excelled. Use strength, surprise, or what you will, The courtier finds evasions still: Not to be bound by any ties, And never forced to leave his lies.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXXIV.

THE MASTIFFS.

Those who in quarrels interpose, Must often wipe a bloody nose. A mastiff, of true English blood, Loved fighting better than his food. When dogs were snarling for a bone, He longed to make the war his own, And often found (when two contend) To interpose obtained his end; He gloried in his limping pace; The scars of honour seamed his face; 10 In every limb a gash appears, And frequent fights retrenched his ears. As, on a time, he heard from far Two dogs engaged in noisy war, Away he scours and lays about him, Resolved no fray should be without him. Forth from his yard a tanner flies, And to the bold intruder cries: 'A cudgel shall correct your manners, Whence sprung this cursed hate to tanners? 20 While on my dog you vent your spite, Sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite.' To see the battle thus perplexed, With equal rage a butcher vexed, Hoarse-screaming from the circled crowd, To the cursed mastiff cries aloud: 'Both Hockley-hole and Mary-bone The combats of my dog have known. He ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted, Attacks in public, to be parted. 30 Think not, rash fool, to share his fame: Be his the honour, or the shame.' Thus said, they swore, and raved like thunder; Then dragged their fastened dogs asunder; While clubs and kicks from every side Rebounded from the mastiff's hide. All reeking now with sweat and blood, Awhile the parted warriors stood, Then poured upon the meddling foe; Who, worried, howled and sprawled below. 40 He rose; and limping from the fray, By both sides mangled, sneaked away.

* * * * *

FABLE XXXV.

THE BARLEY-MOW AND THE DUNGHILL.

How many saucy airs we meet From Temple Bar to Aldgate Street! Proud rogues, who shared the South-Sea prey, And sprung like mushrooms in a day! They think it mean, to condescend To know a brother or a friend; They blush to hear their mother's name, And by their pride expose their shame. As cross his yard, at early day, A careful farmer took his way, _10 He stopped, and leaning on his fork, Observed the flail's incessant work. In thought he measured all his store, His geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er; In fancy weighed the fleeces shorn, And multiplied the next year's corn. A Barley-mow, which stood beside, Thus to its musing master cried: 'Say, good sir, is it fit or right To treat me with neglect and slight? _20 Me, who contribute to your cheer, And raise your mirth with ale and beer? Why thus insulted, thus disgraced, And that vile dunghill near me placed? Are those poor sweepings of a groom, That filthy sight, that nauseous fume, Meet objects here? Command it hence: A thing so mean must give offence' The humble dunghill thus replied: 'Thy master hears, and mocks thy pride: _30 Insult not thus the meek and low; In me thy benefactor know; My warm assistance gave thee birth, Or thou hadst perished low in earth; But upstarts, to support their station, Cancel at once all obligation.'

* * * * *

FABLE XXXVI.

PYTHAGORAS AND THE COUNTRYMAN.

Pythag'ras rose at early dawn, By soaring meditation drawn, To breathe the fragrance of the day, Through flowery fields he took his way. In musing contemplation warm, His steps misled him to a farm, Where, on the ladder's topmost round, A peasant stood; the hammer's sound Shook the weak barn. 'Say, friend, what care Calls for thy honest labour there?' 10 The clown, with surly voice replies, 'Vengeance aloud for justice cries. This kite, by daily rapine fed, My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread, At length his forfeit life has paid; See on the wall his wings displayed, Here nailed, a terror to his kind, My fowls shall future safety find; My yard the thriving poultry feed, And my barn's refuse fat the breed.' 20 'Friend,' says the sage, 'the doom is wise; For public good the murderer dies. But if these tyrants of the air Demand a sentence so severe, Think how the glutton man devours; What bloody feasts regale his hours! O impudence of power and might, Thus to condemn a hawk or kite, When thou, perhaps, carniv'rous sinner, Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!' 30 'Hold,' cried the clown, with passion heated, 'Shall kites and men alike be treated? When Heaven the world with creatures stored, Man was ordained their sovereign lord.' 'Thus tyrants boast,' the sage replied, 'Whose murders spring from power and pride. Own then this man-like kite is slain Thy greater luxury to sustain; For "Petty rogues submit to fate, That great ones may enjoy their state."'[5] 40



FABLE XXXVII.

THE FARMER'S WIFE AND THE RAVEN.

'Why are those tears? why droops your head? Is then your other husband dead? Or does a worse disgrace betide? Hath no one since his death applied?' 'Alas! you know the cause too well: The salt is spilt, to me it fell. Then, to contribute to my loss, My knife and fork were laid across; On Friday too! the day I dread! Would I were safe at home in bed! 10 Last night (I vow to heaven 'tis true) Bounce from the fire a coffin flew. Next post some fatal news shall tell, God send my Cornish friends be well!' 'Unhappy widow, cease thy tears, Nor feel affliction in thy fears, Let not thy stomach be suspended; Eat now, and weep when dinner's ended; And when the butler clears the table, For thy desert, I'll read my fable.' 20 Betwixt her swagging panniers' load A farmer's wife to market rode, And, jogging on, with thoughtful care Summed up the profits of her ware; When, starting from her silver dream, Thus far and wide was heard her scream: 'That raven on yon left-hand oak (Curse on his ill-betiding croak) Bodes me no good.' No more she said, When poor blind Ball, with stumbling tread, 30 Fell prone; o'erturned the pannier lay, And her mashed eggs bestrewed the way. She, sprawling in the yellow road, Railed, swore and cursed: 'Thou croaking toad, A murrain take thy whoreson throat! I knew misfortune in the note.' 'Dame,' quoth the raven, 'spare your oaths, Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes. But why on me those curses thrown? Goody, the fault was all your own; 40 For had you laid this brittle ware, On Dun, the old sure-footed mare, Though all the ravens of the hundred, With croaking had your tongue out-thundered, Sure-footed Dun had kept his legs, And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'



FABLE XXXVIII.

THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.

In other men we faults can spy, And blame the mote that dims their eye, Each little speck and blemish find, To our own stronger errors blind. A turkey, tired of common food, Forsook the barn, and sought the wood; Behind her ran her infant train, Collecting here and there a grain. 'Draw near, my birds,' the mother cries, 'This hill delicious fare supplies; _10 Behold, the busy negro race, See, millions blacken all the place! Fear not. Like me with freedom eat; An ant is most delightful meat. How bless'd, how envied were our life, Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife! But man, cursed man, on turkeys preys, And Christmas shortens all our days: Sometimes with oysters we combine, Sometimes assist the savoury chine. _20 From the low peasant to the lord, The turkey smokes on every board. Sure men for gluttony are cursed, Of the seven deadly sins the worst.' An ant, who climbed beyond his reach, Thus answered from the neighbouring beech: 'Ere you remark another's sin, 27 Bid thy own conscience look within; Control thy more voracious bill, Nor for a breakfast nations kill.' _30

* * * * *

FABLE XXXIX.

THE FATHER AND JUPITER.

The man to Jove his suit preferred; He begged a wife. His prayer was heard, Jove wondered at his bold addressing: For how precarious is the blessing! A wife he takes. And now for heirs Again he worries heaven with prayers. Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boys And a fine girl reward his joys. Now, more solicitous he grew, And set their future lives in view; _10 He saw that all respect and duty Were paid to wealth, to power, and beauty. 'Once more,' he cries, 'accept my prayer; Make my loved progeny thy care. Let my first hope, my favourite boy, All fortune's richest gifts enjoy. My next with strong ambition fire: May favour teach him to aspire; Till he the step of power ascend, And courtiers to their idol bend. _20 With every grace, with every charm, My daughter's perfect features arm. If heaven approve, a father's bless'd.' Jove smiles, and grants his full request. The first, a miser at the heart, Studious of every griping art, Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain; And all his life devotes to gain. He feels no joy, his cares increase, He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace; _30 In fancied want (a wretch complete) He starves, and yet he dares not eat. The next to sudden honours grew: The thriving art of Courts he knew: He reached the height of power and place; Then fell, the victim of disgrace. Beauty with early bloom supplies His daughter's cheek, and points her eyes. The vain coquette each suit disdains, And glories in her lover's pains. _40 With age she fades, each lover flies; Contemned, forlorn, she pines and dies. When Jove the father's grief surveyed, And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid, Thus spoke the god: 'By outward show, Men judge of happiness and woe: Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct the eternal will? Seek virtue; and, of that possess'd, To Providence resign the rest' _50

* * * * *

FABLE XL.

THE TWO MONKEYS.

The learned, full of inward pride, The Fops of outward show deride: The Fop, with learning at defiance, Scoffs at the pedant, and the science: The Don, a formal, solemn strutter, Despises Monsieur's airs and flutter; While Monsieur mocks the formal fool, Who looks, and speaks, and walks by rule. Britain, a medley of the twain, As pert as France, as grave as Spain; 10 In fancy wiser than the rest, Laughs at them both, of both the jest. Is not the poet's chiming close Censured by all the sons of prose? While bards of quick imagination Despise the sleepy prose narration. Men laugh at apes, they men contemn; For what are we, but apes to them? Two monkeys went to Southwark fair, No critics had a sourer air: 20 They forced their way through draggled folks, Who gaped to catch jack-pudding's jokes; Then took their tickets for the show, And got by chance the foremost row. To see their grave, observing face, Provoked a laugh throughout the place. 'Brother,' says Pug, and turned his head, 'The rabble's monstrously ill bred.' Now through the booth loud hisses ran; Nor ended till the show began. 30 The tumbler whirls the flap-flap round, With somersets he shakes the ground; The cord beneath the dancer springs; Aloft in air the vaulter swings; Distorted now, now prone depends, Now through his twisted arms ascends: The crowd, in wonder and delight, With clapping hands applaud the sight. With smiles, quoth Pug, 'If pranks like these The giant apes of reason please, 40 How would they wonder at our arts! They must adore us for our parts. High on the twig I've seen you cling; Play, twist and turn in airy ring: How can those clumsy things, like me, Fly with a bound from tree to tree? But yet, by this applause, we find These emulators of our kind Discern our worth, our parts regard, Who our mean mimics thus reward.' 50 'Brother,' the grinning mate replies, 'In this I grant that man is wise. While good example they pursue, We must allow some praise is due; But when they strain beyond their guide, I laugh to scorn the mimic pride, For how fantastic is the sight, To meet men always bolt upright, Because we sometimes walk on two! I hate the imitating crew.' 60

* * * * *

FABLE XLI.

THE OWL AND THE FARMER.

An owl of grave deport and mien, Who (like the Turk) was seldom seen, Within a barn had chose his station, As fit for prey and contemplation. Upon a beam aloft he sits, And nods, and seems to think by fits. So have I seen a man of news, Or _Post-boy_, or _Gazette_ peruse; Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound, And fix the fate of Europe round. _10 Sheaves piled on sheaves, hid all the floor; At dawn of morn, to view his store The farmer came. The hooting guest His self-importance thus express'd: 'Reason in man is mere pretence: How weak, how shallow is his sense! To treat with scorn the bird of night, Declares his folly, or his spite. Then too, how partial is his praise! The lark's, the linnet's chirping lays _20 To his ill-judging ears are fine; And nightingales are all divine. But the more knowing feathered race See wisdom stamped upon my face. Whene'er to visit light I deign, What flocks of fowl compose my train! Like slaves they crowd my flight behind, And own me of superior kind.' The farmer laughed, and thus replied: 'Thou dull important lump of pride, _30 Dar'st thou with that harsh grating tongue, Depreciate birds of warbling song? Indulge thy spleen. Know, men and fowl Regard thee, as thou art an owl. Besides, proud blockhead, be not vain, Of what thou call'st thy slaves and train. Few follow wisdom or her rules; Fools in derision follow fools.'

* * * * *

FABLE XLII.

THE JUGGLERS.

A juggler long through all the town Had raised his fortune and renown; You'd think (so far his art transcends) The devil at his fingers' ends. Vice heard his fame, she read his bill; Convinced of his inferior skill, She sought his booth, and from the crowd Defied the man of art aloud: 'Is this, then, he so famed for sleight? Can this slow bungler cheat your sight! _10 Dares he with me dispute the prize? I leave it to impartial eyes.' Provoked, the juggler cried, ''tis done. In science I submit to none.' Thus said, the cups and balls he played; By turns, this here, that there, conveyed. The cards, obedient to his words, Are by a fillip turned to birds. His little boxes change the grain: Trick after trick deludes the train. _20 He shakes his bag, he shows all fair; His fingers spreads, and nothing there; Then bids it rain with showers of gold, And now his ivory eggs are told. But when from thence the hen he draws, Amazed spectators hum applause. Vice now stept forth, and took the place With all the forms of his grimace. 'This magic looking-glass,' she cries, (There, hand it round) 'will charm your eyes.' _30 Each eager eye the sight desired, And every man himself admired. Next to a senator addressing: 'See this bank-note; observe the blessing, Breathe on the bill.' Heigh, pass! 'Tis gone. Upon his lips a padlock shone. A second puff the magic broke, The padlock vanished, and he spoke. Twelve bottles ranged upon the board, All full, with heady liquor stored, _40 By clean conveyance disappear, And now two bloody swords are there. A purse she to a thief exposed, At once his ready fingers closed; He opes his fist, the treasure's fled; He sees a halter in its stead. She bids ambition hold a wand; He grasps a hatchet in his hand. A box of charity she shows, 'Blow here;' and a churchwarden blows, _50 'Tis vanished with conveyance neat, And on the table smokes a treat. She shakes the dice, the boards she knocks, And from all pockets fills her box. She next a meagre rake address'd: 'This picture see; her shape, her breast! What youth, and what inviting eyes! Hold her, and have her.' With surprise, His hand exposed a box of pills, And a loud laugh proclaimed his ills. _60 A counter, in a miser's hand, Grew twenty guineas at command. She bids his heir the sum retain, And 'tis a counter now again. A guinea with her touch you see Take every shape, but charity; And not one thing you saw, or drew, But changed from what was first in view. The juggler now in grief of heart, With this submission owned her art: _70 'Can I such matchless sleight withstand? How practice hath improved your hand! But now and then I cheat the throng; You every day, and all day long.'

* * * * *

FABLE XLIII.

THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.

Upon a time a neighing steed, Who grazed among a numerous breed, With mutiny had fired the train, And spread dissension through the plain. On matters that concerned the state The council met in grand debate. A colt, whose eye-balls flamed with ire, Elate with strength and youthful fire, In haste stept forth before the rest, And thus the listening throng addressed: 10 'Good gods! how abject is our race, Condemned to slavery and disgrace! Shall we our servitude retain, Because our sires have borne the chain? Consider, friends, your strength and might; 'Tis conquest to assert your right. How cumbrous is the gilded coach! The pride of man is our reproach. Were we designed for daily toil, To drag the ploughshare through, the soil, 20 To sweat in harness through the road, To groan beneath the carrier's load? How feeble are the two-legged kind! What force is in our nerves combined! Shall then our nobler jaws submit To foam and champ the galling bit? Shall haughty man my back bestride? Shall the sharp spur provoke my side? Forbid it, heavens! Reject the rein; Your shame, your infamy disdain. 30 Let him the lion first control, And still the tiger's famished growl. Let us, like them, our freedom claim, And make him tremble at our name.' A general nod approved the cause, And all the circle neighed applause. When, lo! with grave and solemn pace, A steed advanced before the race, With age and long experience wise; Around he cast his thoughtful eyes, 40 And, to the murmurs of the train, Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain: 'When I had health and strength, like you, The toils of servitude I knew; Now grateful man rewards my pains, And gives me all these wide domains. At will I crop the year's increase My latter life is rest and peace. I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains. 50 But doth not he divide the care, Through all the labours of the year? How many thousand structures rise, To fence us from inclement skies! For us he bears the sultry day, And stores up all our winter's hay. He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain; We share the toil, and share the grain. Since every creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need, 60 Appease your discontented mind, And act the part by heaven assigned.' The tumult ceased. The colt submitted, And, like his ancestors, was bitted.

* * * * *

FABLE XLIV.

THE HOUND AND THE HUNTSMAN.

Impertinence at first is borne With heedless slight, or smiles of scorn; Teased into wrath, what patience bears The noisy fool who perseveres? The morning wakes, the huntsman sounds, At once rush forth the joyful hounds. They seek the wood with eager pace, Through bush, through brier, explore the chase. Now scattered wide, they try the plain, And snuff the dewy turf in vain. _10 What care, what industry, what pains! What universal silence reigns. Ringwood, a dog of little fame, Young, pert, and ignorant of game, At once displays his babbling throat; The pack, regardless of the note, Pursue the scent; with louder strain He still persists to vex the train. The huntsman to the clamour flies; The smacking lash he smartly plies. _20 His ribs all welked, with howling tone The puppy thus expressed his moan: 'I know the music of my tongue Long since the pack with envy stung. What will not spite? These bitter smarts I owe to my superior parts.' 'When puppies prate,' the huntsman cried, 'They show both ignorance and pride: Fools may our scorn, not envy raise, For envy is a kind of praise. _30 Had not thy forward noisy tongue Proclaimed thee always in the wrong, Thou might'st have mingled with the rest, And ne'er thy foolish nose confess'd. But fools, to talking ever prone, Are sure to make their follies known.'

* * * * *

FABLE XLV.

THE POET AND THE ROSE.

I hate the man who builds his name On ruins of another's fame. Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown, Imagine that they raise their own. Thus scribblers, covetous of praise, Think slander can transplant the bays. Beauties and bards have equal pride, With both all rivals are decried. Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature, Must call her sister, awkward creature; 10 For the kind flattery's sure to charm, When we some other nymph disarm. As in the cool of early day A poet sought the sweets of May, The garden's fragrant breath ascends, And every stalk with odour bends. A rose he plucked, he gazed, admired, Thus singing as the muse inspired: 'Go, rose, my Chloe's bosom grace; How happy should I prove, 20 Might I supply that envied place With never fading love! There, phoenix-like, beneath her eye, Involved in fragrance, burn and die! Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find More fragrant roses there; I see thy withering head reclined With envy and despair! One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love.' 30 'Spare your comparisons,' replied An angry rose, who grew beside. 'Of all mankind, you should not flout us; What can a poet do without us! In every love-song roses bloom; We lend you colour and perfume. Does it to Chloe's charms conduce, To found her praise on our abuse? Must we, to flatter her, be made To wither, envy, pine and fade?' 40

* * * * *

FABLE XLVI.

THE CUR, THE HORSE, AND THE SHEPHERD'S DOG.

The lad of all-sufficient merit, With modesty ne'er damps his spirit; Presuming on his own deserts, On all alike his tongue exerts; His noisy jokes at random throws, And pertly spatters friends and foes; In wit and war the bully race Contribute to their own disgrace. Too late the forward youth shall find That jokes are sometimes paid in kind; 10 Or if they canker in the breast, He makes a foe who makes a jest. A village-cur, of snappish race, The pertest puppy of the place, Imagined that his treble throat Was blest with music's sweetest note: In the mid road he basking lay, The yelping nuisance of the way; For not a creature passed along, But had a sample of his song. 20 Soon as the trotting steed he hears, He starts, he cocks his dapper ears; Away he scours, assaults his hoof; Now near him snarls, now barks aloof; With shrill impertinence attends; Nor leaves him till the village ends. It chanced, upon his evil day, A pad came pacing down the way: The cur, with never-ceasing tongue, Upon the passing traveller sprung. 30 The horse, from scorn provoked to ire, Flung backward; rolling in the mire, The puppy howled, and bleeding lay; The pad in peace pursued the way. A shepherd's dog, who saw the deed, Detesting the vexatious breed, Bespoke him thus: 'When coxcombs prate, They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate; Thy teasing tongue had judgment tied, Thou hadst not, like a puppy, died.' 40

* * * * *

FABLE XLVII.

THE COURT OF DEATH.

Death, on a solemn night of state, In all his pomp of terror sate: The attendants of his gloomy reign, Diseases dire, a ghastly train! Crowd the vast court. With hollow tone, A voice thus thundered from the throne: 'This night our minister we name, Let every servant speak his claim; Merit shall bear this ebon wand;' All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand. _10 Fever, with burning heat possess'd, Advanced, and for the wand address'd: 'I to the weekly bills appeal, Let those express my fervent zeal; On every slight occasion near, With violence I persevere.' Next Gout appears with limping pace, Pleads how he shifts from place to place, From head to foot how swift he flies, 19 And every joint and sinew plies; _20 Still working when he seems suppress'd, A most tenacious stubborn guest. A haggard spectre from the crew Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due: 'Tis I who taint the sweetest joy, And in the shape of love destroy: My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face, Prove my pretension to the place.' Stone urged his ever-growing force. And, next, Consumption's meagre corse, _30 With feeble voice, that scarce was heard, Broke with short coughs, his suit preferred: 'Let none object my ling'ring way, I gain, like Fabius, by delay; Fatigue and weaken every foe By long attack, secure, though slow.' Plague represents his rapid power, Who thinned a nation in an hour. All spoke their claim, and hoped the wand. Now expectation hushed the band, _40 When thus the monarch from the throne: 'Merit was ever modest known, What, no physician speak his right! None here! but fees their toils requite. Let then Intemperance take the wand, Who fills with gold their zealous hand. You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest, (Whom wary men, as foes, detest,) Forego your claim; no more pretend: Intemperance is esteemed a friend; _50 He shares their mirth, their social joys, And, as a courted guest, destroys. The charge on him must justly fall, Who finds employment for you all.'

* * * * *

FABLE XLVIII.

THE GARDENER AND THE HOG.

A gard'ner, of peculiar taste, On a young hog his favour placed; Who fed not with the common herd; His tray was to the hall preferred. He wallowed underneath the board, Or in his master's chamber snored; Who fondly stroked him every day, And taught him all the puppy's play; Where'er he went, the grunting friend Ne'er failed his pleasure to attend. _10 As on a time, the loving pair Walked forth to tend the garden's care, The master thus address'd the swine: 'My house, my garden, all is thine. On turnips feast whene'er you please, And riot in my beans and peas; If the potato's taste delights, Or the red carrot's sweet invites, Indulge thy morn and evening hours, But let due care regard my flowers: _20 My tulips are my garden's pride, What vast expense those beds supplied!' The hog by chance one morning roamed, Where with new ale the vessels foamed. He munches now the steaming grains, Now with full swill the liquor drains. Intoxicating fumes arise; 27 He reels, he rolls his winking eyes; Then stagg'ring through the garden scours, And treads down painted ranks of flowers. _30 With delving snout he turns the soil, And cools his palate with the spoil. The master came, the ruin spied, 'Villain, suspend thy rage,' he cried. 'Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot, My charge, my only charge forgot? What, all my flowers!' No more he said, But gazed, and sighed, and hung his head. The hog with stutt'ring speech returns: 'Explain, sir, why your anger burns. _40 See there, untouched, your tulips strown, For I devoured the roots alone.' At this the gard'ner's passion grows; From oaths and threats he fell to blows. The stubborn brute the blow sustains; Assaults his leg, and tears the veins. Ah! foolish swain, too late you find That sties were for such friends designed! Homeward he limps with painful pace, Reflecting thus on past disgrace: _50 Who cherishes a brutal mate Shall mourn the folly soon or late.