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FABLE XLIX.

THE MAN AND THE FLEA.

Whether on earth, in air, or main, Sure everything alive is vain! Does not the hawk all fowls survey, As destined only for his prey? And do not tyrants, prouder things, Think men were born for slaves to kings? When the crab views the pearly strands, Or Tagus, bright with golden sands; Or crawls beside the coral grove, And hears the ocean roll above; 10 'Nature is too profuse,' says he, 'Who gave all these to pleasure me!' When bordering pinks and roses bloom, And every garden breathes perfume; When peaches glow with sunny dyes, Like Laura's cheek, when blushes rise; When with huge figs the branches bend, When clusters from the vine depend; The snail looks round on flower and tree, And cries, 'All these were made for me!' 20 'What dignity's in human nature!' Says man, the most conceited creature, As from a cliff he cast his eye, And viewed the sea and arched sky; The sun was sunk beneath the main, The moon and all the starry train Hung the vast vault of heaven. The man His contemplation thus began: 'When I behold this glorious show, And the wide watery world below, 30 The scaly people of the main, The beasts that range the wood or plain, The winged inhabitants of air, The day, the night, the various year, And know all these by heaven design'd As gifts to pleasure human kind; I cannot raise my worth too high; Of what vast consequence am I!' 'Not of the importance you suppose,' Replies a flea upon his nose. 40 'Be humble, learn thyself to scan; Know, pride was never made for man. 'Tis vanity that swells thy mind. What, heaven and earth for thee designed! For thee, made only for our need, That more important fleas might feed.'

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FABLE L.

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care. Tis thus in friendships; who depend On many, rarely find a friend. A hare, who in a civil way, Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. 10 Her care was never to offend, And every creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round; 20 Till fainting in the public way, Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew, When first the horse appeared in view! 'Let me,' says she, 'your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight; To friendship every burden's light.' The horse replied—'Poor honest puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus; 30 Be comforted, relief is near; For all your friends are in the rear.' She next the stately bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord— 'Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley mow: 40 And when a lady's in the case, You know all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the goat is just behind.' The goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; 'My back,' says she, 'may do you harm; The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.' The sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: 50 Said he was slow, confessed his fears; For hounds cat sheep, as well as hares. She now the trotting calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed. 'Shall I,' says he, 'of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler passed you by; How strong are those! how weak am I! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. 60 Excuse me then. You know my heart, But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament! Adieu! For see the hounds are just in view.'

* * * * *

PART II.

PUBLISHED AFTER GAY'S DEATH, BY THE DUKE OF QUEENSBERRY.

FABLE I.

THE DOG AND THE FOX.

TO A LAWYER.

I know you lawyers can with ease Twist words and meanings as you please; That language, by your skill made pliant, Will bend to favour every client; That 'tis the fee directs the sense, To make out either side's pretence. When you peruse the clearest case, You see it with a double face: For scepticism's your profession; You hold there's doubt in all expression. _10 Hence is the bar with fees supplied, Hence eloquence takes either side. Your hand would have but paltry gleaning Could every man express his meaning. Who dares presume to pen a deed. Unless you previously are fee'd? 'Tis drawn; and, to augment the cost, In dull prolixity engrossed. And now we're well secured by law, Till the next brother find a flaw. _20 Read o'er a will. Was't ever known, But you could make the will your own; For when you read,'tis with intent To find out meanings never meant. Since things are thus, _se defendendo_, I bar fallacious innuendo. Sagacious Porta's[6] skill could trace Some beast or bird in every face. The head, the eye, the nose's shape, Proved this an owl, and that an ape. _30 When, in the sketches thus designed, Resemblance brings some friend to mind, You show the piece, and give the hint, And find each feature in the print: So monstrous like the portrait's found, All know it, and the laugh goes round. Like him I draw from general nature; Is't I or you then fix the satire? So, sir, I beg you spare your pains In making comments on my strains. _40 All private slander I detest, I judge not of my neighbour's breast: Party and prejudice I hate, And write no libels on the state. Shall not my fable censure vice, Because a knave is over-nice? And, lest the guilty hear and dread, Shall not the decalogue be read? If I lash vice in general fiction, Is't I apply, or self-conviction? _50 Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame, If men in morals are the same? I no man call an ape or ass: Tis his own conscience holds the glass; Thus void of all offence I write; Who claims the fable, knows his right. A shepherd's dog unskilled in sports, Picked up acquaintance of all sorts: Among the rest, a fox he knew; By frequent chat their friendship grew. _60 Says Reynard—' 'Tis a cruel case, That man should stigmatise our race, No doubt, among us rogues you find, As among dogs, and human kind; And yet (unknown to me and you) There may be honest men and true. Thus slander tries, whate'er it can, To put us on the foot with man, Let my own actions recommend; No prejudice can blind a friend: _70 You know me free from all disguise; My honour as my life I prize.' By talk like this, from all mistrust The dog was cured, and thought him just. As on a time the fox held forth On conscience, honesty, and worth, Sudden he stopp'd; he cocked his ear; And dropp'd his brushy tail with fear. 'Bless us! the hunters are abroad— What's all that clatter on the road?' _80 'Hold,' says the dog, 'we're safe from harm; 'Twas nothing but a false alarm. At yonder town, 'tis market day; Some farmer's wife is on the way; 'Tis so, (I know her pyebald mare) Dame Dobbins, with her poultry ware.' Reynard grew huff. Says he, 'This sneer From you I little thought to hear. Your meaning in your looks I see; Pray, what's Dame Dobbins, friend, to me? _90 Did I e'er make her poultry thinner? Prove that I owe the Dame a dinner.' 'Friend,' quoth the cur, 'I meant no harm; Then, why so captious? why so warm? My words in common acceptation, Could never give this provocation. No lamb (for ought I ever knew) May be more innocent than you.' At this, galled Reynard winced and swore Such language ne'er was given before: _100 'What's lamb to me? the saucy hint— Show me, base knave, which way you squint, If t'other night your master lost Three lambs, am I to pay the cost? Your vile reflections would imply That I'm the thief. You dog, you lie.' 'Thou knave, thou fool,' the dog replied, 'The name is just, take either side; Thy guilt these applications speak; Sirrah,'tis conscience makes you squeak.' _110 So saying, on the fox he flies, The self-convicted felon dies.

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FABLE II.

THE VULTURE, THE SPARROW, AND OTHER BIRDS.

TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY.

Ere I begin, I must premise Our ministers are good and wise; So, though malicious tongues apply, Pray what care they, or what care I? If I am free with courts; be't known, I ne'er presume to mean our own. If general morals seem to joke On ministers, and such like folk, A captious fool may take offence; What then? he knows his own pretence. _10 I meddle with no state affairs, But spare my jest to save my ears. Our present schemes are too profound, For Machiavel himself to sound: To censure them I've no pretension; I own they're past my comprehension. You say your brother wants a place, ('Tis many a younger brother's case,) And that he very soon intends To ply the Court, and tease his friends. _20 If there his merits chance to find A patriot of an open mind, Whose constant actions prove him just To both a king's and people's trust; May he with gratitude attend, And owe his rise to such a friend. You praise his parts, for business fit, His learning, probity, and wit; But those alone will never do, Unless his patron have them too. _30 I've heard of times (pray God defend us, We're not so good but He can mend us) When wicked ministers have trod On kings and people, law and God; With arrogance they girt the throne, And knew no interest but their own. Then virtue, from preferment barr'd, Gets nothing but its own reward. A gang of petty knaves attend 'em, With proper parts to recommend 'em. _40 Then if their patron burn with lust, The first in favour's pimp the first. His doors are never closed to spies, Who cheer his heart with double lies; They flatter him, his foes defame, So lull the pangs of guilt and shame. If schemes of lucre haunt his brain, Projectors swell his greedy train; Vile brokers ply his private ear With jobs of plunder for the year; _50 All consciences must bend and ply; You must vote on, and not know why: Through thick and thin you must go on; One scruple, and your place is gone. Since plagues like these have cursed a land, And favourites cannot always stand; Good courtiers should for change be ready, And not have principles too steady: For should a knave engross the power, (God shield the realm, from that sad hour,) _60 He must have rogues, or slavish fools: For what's a knave without his tools? Wherever those a people drain, And strut with infamy and gain, I envy not their guilt and state, And scorn to share the public hate. Let their own servile creatures rise By screening fraud, and venting lies; Give me, kind heaven, a private station,[7] A mind serene for contemplation: _70 Title and profit I resign; The post of honour shall be mine. My fable read, their merits view, Then herd who will with such a crew. In days of yore (my cautious rhymes Always except the present times) A greedy vulture skilled in game, Inured to guilt, unawed by shame, Approached the throne in evil hour, And step by step intrudes to power; _80 When at the royal eagle's ear, He longs to ease the monarch's care. The monarch grants. With pride elate, Behold him minister of state! Around him throng the feathered rout; Friends must be served, and some must out, Each thinks his own the best pretension; This asks a place, and that a pension. The nightingale was set aside, A forward daw his room supplied. _90 'This bird,' says he, 'for business fit, Hath both sagacity and wit. With all his turns, and shifts, and tricks, He's docile, and at nothing sticks. Then, with his neighbours one so free, At all times will connive at me.' The hawk had due distinction shown, For parts and talents like his own. Thousands of hireling cocks attends him, As blustering bullies, to defend him. _100 At once the ravens were discarded, And magpies with their posts rewarded. 'Those fowls of omen I detest, That pry into another's nest, State-lies must lose all good intent; For they foresee and croak the event. My friends ne'er think, but talk by rote, Speak what they're taught, and so to vote.' 'When rogues like these,' a sparrow cries, 'To honours and employments rise, _110 I court no favour, ask no place; For such preferment is disgrace. Within my thatched retreat I find (What these ne'er feel) true peace of mind.'

* * * * *

FABLE III.

THE BABOON AND THE POULTRY.

TO A LEVEE-HUNTER.

We frequently misplace esteem, By judging men by what they seem, To birth, wealth, power, we should allow Precedence, and our lowest bow. In that is due distinction shown, Esteem is virtue's right alone. With partial eye we're apt to see The man of noble pedigree. We're prepossess'd my lord inherits In some degree his grandsire's merits; 10 For those we find upon record: But find him nothing but my lord. When we with superficial view, Gaze on the rich, we're dazzled too. We know that wealth well understood, Hath frequent power of doing good: Then fancy that the thing is done, As if the power and will were one. Thus oft the cheated crowd adore The thriving knaves that keep them poor. 20 The cringing train of power survey: What creatures are so low as they! With what obsequiousness they bend! To what vile actions condescend! Their rise is on their meanness built, And flattery is their smallest guilt. What homage, rev'rence, adoration, In every age, in every nation, Have sycophants to power addressed! No matter who the power possessed. 30 Let ministers be what they will, You find their levees always fill. Even those who have perplexed a state, Whose actions claim contempt and hate, Had wretches to applaud their schemes, Though more absurd than madmen's dreams. When barbarous Moloch was invoked, The blood of infants only smoked! But here (unless all history lies) Whole realms have been a sacrifice. 40 Look through all Courts—'Tis power we find, The general idol of mankind, There worshipped under every shape; Alike the lion, fox, and ape Are followed by time-serving slaves, Rich prostitutes, and needy knaves. Who, then, shall glory in his post? How frail his pride, how vain his boast! The followers of his prosperous hour Are as unstable as his power. 50 Power by the breath of flattery nursed, The more it swells, is nearer burst. The bubble breaks, the gewgaw ends, And in a dirty tear descends. Once on a time, an ancient maid, By wishes and by time decayed, To cure the pangs of restless thought, In birds and beasts amusement sought: Dogs, parrots, apes, her hours employed; With these alone she talked and toyed. 60 A huge baboon her fancy took, (Almost a man in size and look,) He fingered everything he found, And mimicked all the servants round. Then, too, his parts and ready wit Showed him for every business fit. With all these talents, 'twas but just That pug should hold a place of trust: So to her fav'rite was assigned The charge of all her feathered kind. 70 'Twas his to tend 'em eve and morn, And portion out their daily corn. Behold him now with haughty stride, Assume a ministerial pride. The morning rose. In hope of picking, Swans, turkeys, peacocks, ducks and chicken, Fowls of all ranks surround his hut, To worship his important strut. The minister appears. The crowd Now here, now there, obsequious bowed. 80 This praised his parts, and that his face, T'other his dignity in place. From bill to bill the flattery ran: He hears and bears it like a man: For, when we flatter self-conceit, We but his sentiments repeat. If we're too scrupulously just, What profit's in a place of trust? The common practice of the great, Is to secure a snug retreat. 90 So pug began to turn his brain (Like other folks in place) on gain. An apple-woman's stall was near, Well stocked with fruits through all the year; Here every day he crammed his guts, Hence were his hoards of pears and nuts; For 'twas agreed (in way of trade) His payments should in corn be made. The stock of grain was quickly spent, And no account which way it went. 100 Then, too, the poultry's starved condition Caused speculations of suspicion. The facts were proved beyond dispute; Pug must refund his hoards of fruit: And, though then minister in chief, Was branded as a public thief. Disgraced, despised, confined to chains, He nothing but his pride retains. A goose passed by; he knew the face, Seen every levee while in place. 110 'What, no respect! no reverence shown? How saucy are these creatures grown! Not two days since,' says he, 'you bowed The lowest of my fawning crowd.' 'Proud fool,' replies the goose,''tis true, Thy corn a fluttering levee drew! For that I joined the hungry train, And sold thee flattery for thy grain. But then, as now, conceited ape, We saw thee in thy proper shape.' 120

* * * * *

FABLE IV.

THE ANT IN OFFICE.

TO A FRIEND.

You tell me, that you apprehend My verse may touchy folks offend. In prudence too you think my rhymes Should never squint at courtiers' crimes: For though nor this, nor that is meant, Can we another's thoughts prevent? You ask me if I ever knew Court chaplains thus the lawn pursue. I meddle not with gown or lawn; Poets, I grant, to rise must fawn. _10 They know great ears are over-nice, And never shock their patron's vice. But I this hackney path despise; 'Tis my ambition not to rise. If I must prostitute the Muse, The base conditions I refuse. I neither flatter nor defame, Yet own I would bring guilt to shame. If I corruption's hand expose, I make corrupted men my foes. _20 What then? I hate the paltry tribe; Be virtue mine; be theirs the bribe. I no man's property invade; Corruption's yet no lawful trade. Nor would it mighty ills produce, Could I shame bribery out of use, I know 'twould cramp most politicians, Were they tied down to these conditions. 'Twould stint their power, their riches bound, And make their parts seem less profound. _30 Were they denied their proper tools, How could they lead their knaves and fools? Were this the case, let's take a view, What dreadful mischiefs would ensue; Though it might aggrandise the state, Could private luxury dine on plate? Kings might indeed their friends reward, But ministers find less regard. Informers, sycophants, and spies, Would not augment the year's supplies. _40 Perhaps, too, take away this prop, An annual job or two might drop. Besides, if pensions were denied, Could avarice support its pride? It might even ministers confound, And yet the state be safe and sound. I care not though 'tis understood I only mean my country's good: And (let who will my freedom blame) I wish all courtiers did the same. _50 Nay, though some folks the less might get, I wish the nation out of debt. I put no private man's ambition With public good in competition: Rather than have our law defaced, I'd vote a minister disgraced. I strike at vice, be't where it will; And what if great folks take it ill? I hope corruption, bribery, pension, One may with detestation mention: _60 Think you the law (let who will take it) Can _scandalum magnatum_ make it? I vent no slander, owe no grudge, Nor of another's conscience judge: At him, or him, I take no aim, Yet dare against all vice declaim. Shall I not censure breach of trust, Because knaves know themselves unjust? That steward, whose account is clear, Demands his honour may appear: _70 His actions never shun the light, He is, and would be proved upright. But then you think my fable bears Allusion, too, to state affairs. I grant it does: and who's so great, That has the privilege to cheat? If, then, in any future reign (For ministers may thirst for gain;) Corrupted hands defraud the nation, I bar no reader's application. _80 An ant there was, whose forward prate Controlled all matters in debate; Whether he knew the thing or no, His tongue eternally would go. For he had impudence at will, And boasted universal skill. Ambition was his point in view; Thus, by degrees, to power he grew. Behold him now his drift attain: He's made chief treasurer of the grain. _90 But as their ancient laws are just, And punish breach of public trust, 'Tis ordered (lest wrong application Should starve that wise industrious nation) That all accounts be stated clear, Their stock, and what defrayed the year: That auditors should these inspect, 97 And public rapine thus be checked. For this the solemn day was set, The auditors in council met. _100 The granary-keeper must explain, And balance his account of grain. He brought (since he could not refuse 'em) Some scraps of paper to amuse 'em. An honest pismire, warm with zeal, In justice to the public weal, Thus spoke: 'The nation's hoard is low, From whence doth this profusion flow? I know our annual funds' amount. Why such expense, and where's the account?' _110 With wonted arrogance and pride, The ant in office thus replied: 'Consider, sirs, were secrets told, How could the best-schemed projects hold? Should we state-mysteries disclose, 'Twould lay us open to our foes. My duty and my well-known zeal Bid me our present schemes conceal. But on my honour, all the expense (Though vast) was for the swarm's defence. _120 They passed the account as fair and just, And voted him implicit trust. Next year again the granary drained, He thus his innocence maintained: 'Think how our present matters stand, What dangers threat from every hand; What hosts of turkeys stroll for food, No farmer's wife but hath her brood. Consider, when invasion's near, Intelligence must cost us dear; _130 And, in this ticklish situation, A secret told betrays the nation. But, on my honour, all the expense (Though vast) was for the swarm's defence.' Again, without examination, They thanked his sage administration. The year revolves. The treasure spent, Again in secret service went. His honour too again was pledged, To satisfy the charge alleged. _140 When thus, with panic shame possessed, An auditor his friends addressed: 'What are we? Ministerial tools. We little knaves are greater fools. At last this secret is explored; 'Tis our corruption thins the hoard. For every grain we touched, at least A thousand his own heaps increased. Then for his kin, and favourite spies, A hundred hardly could suffice. _150 Thus, for a paltry sneaking bribe, We cheat ourselves, and all the tribe; For all the magazine contains, Grows from our annual toil and pains.' They vote the account shall be inspected; The cunning plunderer is detected; The fraud is sentenced; and his hoard, As due, to public use restored.

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FABLE V.

THE BEAR IN A BOAT.

TO A COXCOMB.

That man must daily wiser grow, Whose search is bent himself to know; Impartially he weighs his scope, And on firm reason founds his hope; He tries his strength before the race, And never seeks his own disgrace; He knows the compass, sail, and oar, Or never launches from the shore; Before he builds, computes the cost; And in no proud pursuit is lost: 10 He learns the bounds of human sense, And safely walks within the fence. Thus, conscious of his own defect, Are pride and self-importance check'd. If then, self-knowledge to pursue, Direct our life in every view, Of all the fools that pride can boast, A coxcomb claims distinction most. Coxcombs are of all ranks and kind: They're not to sex or age confined, 20 Or rich, or poor, or great, or small; And vanity besets them all. By ignorance is pride increased: Those most assume who know the least; Their own false balance gives them weight, But every other finds them light. Not that all coxcombs' follies strike, And draw our ridicule alike; To different merits each pretends. This in love-vanity transcends; 30 That smitten with his face and shape, By dress distinguishes the ape; T'other with learning crams his shelf, Knows books, and all things but himself. All these are fools of low condition, Compared with coxcombs of ambition. For those, puffed up with flattery, dare Assume a nation's various care. They ne'er the grossest praise mistrust, Their sycophants seem hardly just; 40 For these, in part alone, attest The flattery their own thoughts suggest. In this wide sphere a coxcomb's shown In other realms beside his own: The self-deemed Machiavel at large By turns controls in every charge. Does commerce suffer in her rights? 'Tis he directs the naval flights. What sailor dares dispute his skill? He'll be an admiral when he will. 50 Now meddling in the soldier's trade, Troops must be hired, and levies made. He gives ambassadors their cue, His cobbled treaties to renew; And annual taxes must suffice The current blunders to disguise When his crude schemes in air are lost, And millions scarce defray the cost, His arrogance (nought undismayed) Trusting in self-sufficient aid, 60 On other rocks misguides the realm, And thinks a pilot at the helm. He ne'er suspects his want of skill, But blunders on from ill to ill; And, when he fails of all intent, Blames only unforeseen event. Lest you mistake the application, The fable calls me to relation. A bear of shag and manners rough, At climbing trees expert enough; 70 For dextrously, and safe from harm, Year after year he robbed the swarm. Thus thriving on industrious toil, He gloried in his pilfered spoil. This trick so swelled him with conceit, He thought no enterprise too great. Alike in sciences and arts, He boasted universal parts; Pragmatic, busy, bustling, bold, His arrogance was uncontrolled: 80 And thus he made his party good, And grew dictator of the wood. The beasts with admiration stare, And think him a prodigious bear. Were any common booty got, 'Twas his each portion to allot: For why, he found there might be picking, Even in the carving of a chicken. Intruding thus, he by degrees Claimed too the butcher's larger fees. 90 And now his over-weening pride In every province will preside. No talk too difficult was found: His blundering nose misleads the hound. In stratagem and subtle arts, He overrules the fox's parts. It chanced, as, on a certain day, Along the bank he took his way, A boat, with rudder, sail, and oar, At anchor floated near the shore. 100 He stopp'd, and turning to his train, Thus pertly vents his vaunting strain: 'What blundering puppies are mankind, In every science always blind! I mock the pedantry of schools. What are their compasses and rules? From me that helm shall conduct learn. And man his ignorance discern.' So saying, with audacious pride, He gains the boat, and climbs the side. 110 The beasts astonished, lined the strand, The anchor's weighed, he drives from land: The slack sail shifts from side to side; The boat untrimmed admits the tide, Borne down, adrift, at random toss'd, His oar breaks short, the rudder's lost. The bear, presuming in his skill, Is here and there officious still; Till striking on the dangerous sands, Aground the shattered vessel stands. 120 To see the bungler thus distress'd, The very fishes sneer and jest. Even gudgeons join in ridicule, To mortify the meddling fool. The clamorous watermen appear; Threats, curses, oaths, insult his ear: Seized, thrashed, and chained, he's dragged to land; Derision shouts along the strand.

* * * * *

FABLE VI.

THE SQUIRE AND HIS CUR.

TO A COUNTRY GENTLEMAN.

The man of pure and simple heart Through life disdains a double part. He never needs the screen of lies His inward bosom to disguise. In vain malicious tongues assail; Let envy snarl, let slander rail, From virtue's shield (secure from wound) Their blunted, venomed shafts rebound. So shines his light before mankind, His actions prove his honest mind. _10 If in his country's cause he rise, Debating senates to advise, Unbribed, unawed, he dares impart The honest dictates of his heart. No ministerial frown he fears, But in his virtue perseveres. But would you play the politician, Whose heart's averse to intuition, Your lips at all times, nay, your reason Must be controlled by place and season. _20 What statesman could his power support Were lying tongues forbid the court? Did princely ears to truth attend, What minister could gain his end? How could he raise his tools to place, And how his honest foes disgrace? That politician tops his part, Who readily can lie with art: The man's proficient in his trade; His power is strong, his fortune's made. _30 By that the interest of the throne Is made subservient to his own: By that have kings of old, deluded, All their own friends for his excluded. By that, his selfish schemes pursuing, He thrives upon the public ruin. Antiochus,[8] with hardy pace, Provoked the dangers of the chase; And, lost from all his menial train, Traversed the wood and pathless plain. _40 A cottage lodged the royal guest! The Parthian clown brought forth his best. The king, unknown, his feast enjoyed, And various chat the hours employed. From wine what sudden friendship springs! Frankly they talked of courts and kings. 'We country-folks,' the clown replies, 'Could ope our gracious monarch's eyes. The king, (as all our neighbours say,) Might he (God bless him) have his way, _50 Is sound at heart, and means our good, And he would do it, if he could. If truth in courts were not forbid, Nor kings nor subjects would be rid. Were he in power, we need not doubt him: But that transferred to those about him, On them he throws the regal cares: And what mind they? Their own affairs. If such rapacious hands he trust, The best of men may seem unjust. _60 From kings to cobblers 'tis the same: Bad servants wound their master's fame. In this our neighbours all agree: Would the king knew as much as we.' Here he stopp'd short. Repose they sought, The peasant slept, the monarch thought. The courtiers learned, at early dawn, Where their lost sovereign was withdrawn. The guards' approach our host alarms, With gaudy coats the cottage swarms. _70 The crown and purple robes they bring, And prostrate fall before the king. The clown was called, the royal guest By due reward his thanks express'd. The king then, turning to the crowd, Who fawningly before him bow'd, Thus spoke: 'Since, bent on private gain, Your counsels first misled my reign, Taught and informed by you alone, No truth the royal ear hath known, _80 Till here conversing. Hence, ye crew, For now I know myself and you.' Whene'er the royal ear's engross'd, State-lies but little genius cost. The favourite then securely robs, And gleans a nation by his jobs. Franker and bolder grown in ill, He daily poisons dares instil; And, as his present views suggest, Inflames or soothes the royal breast. _90 Thus wicked ministers oppress, When oft the monarch means redress. Would kings their private subjects hear, A minister must talk with fear. If honesty opposed his views, He dared not innocence excuse. 'Twould keep him in such narrow bound, He could not right and wrong confound. Happy were kings, could they disclose Their real friends and real foes! _100 Were both themselves and subjects known, A monarch's will might be his own. Had he the use of ears and eyes, Knaves would no more be counted wise. But then a minister might lose (Hard case!) his own ambitious views. When such as these have vexed a state, Pursued by universal hate, Their false support at once hath failed, And persevering truth prevailed. _110 Exposed their train of fraud is seen; Truth will at last remove the screen. A country squire, by whim directed, The true stanch dogs of chase neglected. Beneath his board no hound was fed, His hand ne'er stroked the spaniel's head. A snappish cur, alone caress'd, By lies had banished all the rest. Yap had his ear; and defamation Gave him full scope of conversation. _120 His sycophants must be preferr'd, Room must be made for all his herd: Wherefore, to bring his schemes about, Old faithful servants all must out. The cur on every creature flew, (As other great men's puppies do,) Unless due court to him were shown, And both their face and business known, No honest tongue an audience found: He worried all the tenants round; _130 For why, he lived in constant fear, Lest truth, by chance, should interfere. If any stranger dare intrude, The noisy cur his heels pursued. Now fierce with rage, now struck with dread, At once he snarled, bit, and fled. Aloof he bays, with bristling hair, And thus in secret growls his fear: 'Who knows but truth, in this disguise, May frustrate my best-guarded lies? _140 Should she (thus masked) admittance find, That very hour my ruin's signed.' Now, in his howl's continued sound, Their words were lost, their voice was drown'd. Ever in awe of honest tongues, Thus every day he strained his lungs. It happened, in ill-omened hour, That Yap, unmindful of his power, Forsook his post, to love inclined; A favourite bitch was in the wind. _150 By her seduced, in amorous play, They frisked the joyous hours away. Thus, by untimely love pursuing, Like Antony, he sought his ruin. For now the squire, unvexed with noise, An honest neighbour's chat enjoys. 'Be free,' says he, 'your mind impart; I love a friendly open heart. Methinks my tenants shun my gate; Why such a stranger grown of late? _160 Pray tell me what offence they find: 'Tis plain they're not so well inclined.' 'Turn off your cur,' the farmer cries, 'Who feeds your ear with daily lies. His snarling insolence offends; 165 'Tis he that keeps you from your friends. Were but that saucy puppy check'd, You'd find again the same respect. Hear only him, he'll swear it too, That all our hatred is to you. _170 But learn from us your true estate; 'Tis that cursed cur alone we hate.' The squire heard truth. Now Yap rushed in; The wide hall echoes with his din: Yet truth prevailed; and with disgrace, The dog was cudgelled out of place.

* * * * *

FABLE VII.

THE COUNTRYMAN AND JUPITER.

TO MYSELF.

Have you a friend (look round and spy) So fond, so prepossessed as I? Your faults, so obvious to mankind, My partial eyes could never find. When by the breath of fortune blown, Your airy castles were o'erthrown; Have I been over-prone to blame, Or mortified your hours with shame? Was I e'er known to damp your spirit, Or twit you with the want of merit? 10 'Tis not so strange, that Fortune's frown Still perseveres to keep you down. Look round, and see what others do. Would you be rich and honest too? Have you (like those she raised to place) Been opportunely mean and base? Have you (as times required) resigned Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind? If these are scruples, give her o'er; Write, practise morals, and be poor. 20 The gifts of fortune truly rate; Then tell me what would mend your state. If happiness on wealth were built, Rich rogues might comfort find in guilt; As grows the miser's hoarded store, His fears, his wants, increase the more. Think, Gay, (what ne'er may be the case,) Should fortune take you into grace, Would that your happiness augment? What can she give beyond content? 30 Suppose yourself a wealthy heir, With a vast annual income clear! In all the affluence you possess, You might not feel one care the less. Might you not then (like others) find With change of fortune, change of mind? Perhaps, profuse beyond all rule, You might start out a glaring fool; Your luxury might break all bounds; Plate, table, horses, stewards, hounds, 40 Might swell your debts: then, lust of play No regal income can defray. Sunk is all credit, writs assail, And doom your future life to jail. Or were you dignified with power, Would that avert one pensive hour? You might give avarice its swing, Defraud a nation, blind a king: Then, from the hirelings in your cause, Though daily fed with false applause, 50 Could it a real joy impart? Great guilt knew never joy at heart. Is happiness your point in view? (I mean the intrinsic and the true) She nor in camps or courts resides, Nor in the humble cottage hides; Yet found alike in every sphere; Who finds content, will find her there. O'erspent with toil, beneath the shade, A peasant rested on his spade. 60 'Good gods!' he cries, ''tis hard to bear This load of life from year to year. Soon as the morning streaks the skies, Industrious labour bids me rise; With sweat I earn my homely fare, And every day renews my care.' Jove heard the discontented strain, And thus rebuked the murmuring swain: 'Speak out your wants then, honest friend: Unjust complaints the gods offend. 70 If you repine at partial fate, Instruct me what could mend your state. Mankind in every station see. What wish you? Tell me what you'd be.' So said, upborne upon a cloud, The clown surveyed the anxious crowd. 'Yon face of care,' says Jove, 'behold, His bulky bags are filled with gold. See with what joy he counts it o'er! That sum to-day hath swelled his store.' 80 'Were I that man,' the peasant cried, 'What blessing could I ask beside?' 'Hold,' says the god; 'first learn to know True happiness from outward show. This optic glass of intuition—— Here, take it, view his true condition.' He looked, and saw the miser's breast, A troubled ocean, ne'er at rest; Want ever stares him in the face, And fear anticipates disgrace: 90 With conscious guilt he saw him start; Extortion gnaws his throbbing heart; And never, or in thought or dream, His breast admits one happy gleam. 'May Jove,' he cries, 'reject my prayer, And guard my life from guilt and care. My soul abhors that wretch's fate. O keep me in my humble state! But see, amidst a gaudy crowd, Yon minister, so gay and proud, 100 On him what happiness attends, Who thus rewards his grateful friends!' 'First take the glass,' the god replies: 'Man views the world with partial eyes.' 'Good gods!' exclaims the startled wight, 'Defend me from this hideous sight! Corruption, with corrosive smart, Lies cankering on his guilty heart: I see him, with polluted hand, Spread the contagion o'er the land, 110 Now avarice with insatiate jaws, Now rapine with her harpy claws His bosom tears. His conscious breast Groans, with a load of crimes oppress'd. See him, mad and drunk with power, Stand tottering on ambition's tower. Sometimes, in speeches vain and proud, His boasts insult the nether crowd; Now, seized with giddiness and fear, He trembles lest his fall is near. 120 'Was ever wretch like this?' he cries; 'Such misery in such disguise! The change, O Jove, I disavow; Still be my lot the spade and plough.' He next, confirmed by speculation, Rejects the lawyer's occupation; For he the statesman seemed in part, And bore similitude of heart. Nor did the soldier's trade inflame His hopes with thirst of spoil and fame, 130 The miseries of war he mourned; Whole nations into deserts turned. By these have laws and rights been braved; By these were free-born men enslaved: When battles and invasion cease, Why swarm they in a land of peace? 'Such change,' says he, 'may I decline; The scythe and civil arms be mine!' Thus, weighing life in each condition, The clown withdrew his rash petition. 140 When thus the god: 'How mortals err! If you true happiness prefer, 'Tis to no rank of life confined, But dwells in every honest mind. Be justice then your sole pursuit: Plant virtue, and content's the fruit.' So Jove, to gratify the clown, Where first he found him set him down.

* * * * *

FABLE VIII.

THE MAN, THE CAT, THE DOG, AND THE FLY.

TO MY NATIVE COUNTRY.

Hail, happy land, whose fertile grounds The liquid fence of Neptune bounds; By bounteous Nature set apart, The seat of industry and art! O Britain! chosen port of trade, May luxury ne'er thy sons invade; May never minister (intent His private treasures to augment) Corrupt thy state. If jealous foes Thy rights of commerce dare oppose, _10 Shall not thy fleets their rapine awe? Who is't prescribes the ocean law? Whenever neighbouring states contend, 'Tis thine to be the general friend. What is't, who rules in other lands? On trade alone thy glory stands. That benefit is unconfined, Diffusing good among mankind: That first gave lustre to thy reigns, And scattered plenty o'er thy plains: _20 'Tis that alone thy wealth supplies, And draws all Europe's envious eyes. Be commerce then thy sole design; Keep that, and all the world is thine. When naval traffic ploughs the main, Who shares not in the merchant's gain? 'Tis that supports the regal state, And makes the farmer's heart elate: The numerous flocks, that clothe the land, Can scarce supply the loom's demand; _30 Prolific culture glads the fields, And the bare heath a harvest yields. Nature expects mankind should share The duties of the public care. Who's born for sloth?[9] To some we find The ploughshare's annual toil assign'd. Some at the sounding anvil glow; Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw; Some, studious of the wind and tide, From pole to pole our commerce guide: _40 Some (taught by industry) impart With hands and feet the works of art; While some, of genius more refined, With head and tongue assist mankind: Each, aiming at one common end, Proves to the whole a needful friend. Thus, born each other's useful aid, By turns are obligations paid. The monarch, when his table's spread, Is to the clown obliged for bread; _50 And when in all his glory dress'd, Owes to the loom his royal vest. Do not the mason's toil and care Protect him from the inclement air? Does not the cutler's art supply The ornament that guards his thigh? All these, in duty to the throne, Their common obligations own. 'Tis he (his own and people's cause) Protects their properties and laws. _60 Thus they their honest toil employ, And with content their fruits enjoy. In every rank, or great or small, 'Tis industry supports us all. The animals by want oppressed, To man their services addressed; While each pursued their selfish good, They hungered for precarious food. Their hours with anxious cares were vex'd; One day they fed, and starved the next. _70 They saw that plenty, sure and rife, Was found alone in social life; That mutual industry professed, The various wants of man redressed. The cat, half-famished, lean and weak, Demands the privilege to speak. 'Well, puss,' says man, 'and what can you To benefit the public do?' The cat replies: 'These teeth, these claws, With vigilance shall serve the cause. _80 The mouse destroyed by my pursuit, No longer shall your feasts pollute; Nor rats, from nightly ambuscade, With wasteful teeth your stores invade.' 'I grant,' says man, 'to general use Your parts and talents may conduce; For rats and mice purloin our grain, And threshers whirl the flail in vain: Thus shall the cat, a foe to spoil, Protect the farmer's honest toil,' _90 Then, turning to the dog, he cried, 'Well, sir; be next your merits tried.' 'Sir,' says the dog, 'by self-applause We seem to own a friendless cause. Ask those who know me, if distrust E'er found me treacherous or unjust? Did I e'er faith or friendship break? Ask all those creatures; let them speak. My vigilance and trusty zeal Perhaps might serve the public weal. _100 Might not your flocks in safety feed, Were I to guard the fleecy breed? Did I the nightly watches keep, Could thieves invade you while you sleep?' The man replies: ''Tis just and right; Rewards such service should requite. So rare, in property, we find Trust uncorrupt among mankind, That, taken, in a public view, The first distinction is your due. _110 Such merits all reward transcend: Be then my comrade and my friend.' Addressing now the fly: 'From you What public service can accrue?' 'From me!' the flutt'ring insect said; 'I thought you knew me better bred. Sir, I'm a gentleman. Is't fit That I to industry submit? Let mean mechanics, to be fed By business earn ignoble bread. _120 Lost in excess of daily joys, No thought, no care my life annoys, At noon (the lady's matin hour) I sip the tea's delicious flower. On cakes luxuriously I dine, And drink the fragrance of the vine. Studious of elegance and ease, Myself alone I seek to please.' The man his pert conceit derides, And thus the useless coxcomb chides: _130 'Hence, from that peach, that downy seat, No idle fool deserves to eat. Could you have sapped the blushing rind, And on that pulp ambrosial dined, Had not some hand with skill and toil, To raise the tree, prepared the soil? Consider, sot, what would ensue, Were all such worthless things as you. You'd soon be forced (by hunger stung) To make your dirty meals on dung; _140 On which such despicable need, Unpitied, is reduced to feed; Besides, vain selfish insect, learn (If you can right and wrong discern) That he who, with industrious zeal, Contributes to the public weal, By adding to the common good, His own hath rightly understood.' So saying, with a sudden blow, He laid the noxious vagrant low. _150 Crushed in his luxury and pride, The spunger on the public died.

* * * * *

FABLE IX.

THE JACKALL, LEOPARD, AND OTHER BEASTS

TO A MODERN POLITICIAN.

I grant corruption sways mankind; That interest too perverts the mind; That bribes have blinded common sense, Foiled reason, truth, and eloquence: I grant you too, our present crimes Can equal those of former times. Against plain facts shall I engage, To vindicate our righteous age? I know, that in a modern fist, Bribes in full energy subsist. _10 Since then these arguments prevail, And itching palms are still so frail, Hence politicians, you suggest, Should drive the nail that goes the best; That it shows parts and penetration, To ply men with the right temptation. To this I humbly must dissent; Premising no reflection's meant. Does justice or the client's sense Teach lawyers either side's defence? _20 The fee gives eloquence its spirit; That only is the client's merit. Does art, wit, wisdom, or address, Obtain the prostitute's caress? The guinea (as in other trades) From every hand alike persuades. Man, Scripture says, is prone to evil, But does that vindicate the devil? Besides, the more mankind are prone, The less the devil's parts are shown. _30 Corruption's not of modern date; It hath been tried in every state. Great knaves of old their power have fenced, By places, pensions, bribes, dispensed; By these they gloried in success, And impudently dared oppress; By these despoticly they swayed, And slaves extolled the hand that paid; Nor parts, nor genius were employed, By these alone were realms destroyed. _40 Now see these wretches in disgrace, Stripp'd of their treasures, power, and place; View them abandoned and forlorn, Exposed to just reproach and scorn. What now is all your pride, your boast? Where are your slaves, your flattering host? What tongues now feed you with applause? Where are the champions of your cause? Now even that very fawning train Which shared the gleanings of your gain, _50 Press foremost who shall first accuse Your selfish jobs, your paltry views, Your narrow schemes, your breach of trust, And want of talents to be just. What fools were these amidst their power! How thoughtless of their adverse hour! What friends were made? A hireling herd, For temporary votes preferr'd. Was it, these sycophants to get, Your bounty swelled a nation's debt? _60 You're bit. For these, like Swiss attend; No longer pay, no longer friend. The lion is, beyond dispute, Allowed the most majestic brute; His valour and his generous mind Prove him superior of his kind. Yet to jackals (as 'tis averred) Some lions have their power transferred; As if the parts of pimps and spies To govern forests could suffice. _70 Once, studious of his private good, A proud jackal oppressed the wood; To cram his own insatiate jaws, 73 Invaded property and laws; The forest groans with discontent, Fresh wrongs the general hate foment, The spreading murmurs reached his ear; His secret hours were vexed with fear. Night after night he weighs the case, And feels the terrors of disgrace. _80 'By friends,' says he, 'I'll guard my seat, By those malicious tongues defeat: I'll strengthen power by new allies, And all my clamorous foes despise.' To make the generous beasts his friends, He cringes, fawns, and condescends; But those repulsed his abject court, And scorned oppression to support. Friends must be had. He can't subsist. Bribes shall new proselytes inlist. _90 But these nought weighed in honest paws; For bribes confess a wicked cause: Yet think not every paw withstands What had prevailed in human hands. A tempting turnip's silver skin Drew a base hog through thick and thin: Bought with a stag's delicious haunch, The mercenary wolf was stanch: The convert fox grew warm and hearty, A pullet gained him to the party; _100 The golden pippin in his fist, A chattering monkey joined the list. But soon exposed to public hate, The favourite's fall redressed the state. The leopard, vindicating right, Had brought his secret frauds to light, As rats, before the mansion falls, Desert late hospitable walls, In shoals the servile creatures run, To bow before the rising sun. _110 The hog with warmth expressed his zeal, And was for hanging those that steal; But hoped, though low, the public hoard Might half a turnip still afford. Since saving measures were profess'd, A lamb's head was the wolf's request. The fox submitted if to touch A gosling would be deemed too much. The monkey thought his grin and chatter, Might ask a nut or some such matter. _120 'Ye hirelings, hence,' the leopard cries; 'Your venal conscience I despise. He who the public good intends, By bribes needs never purchase friends. Who acts this just, this open part, Is propp'd by every honest heart. Corruption now too late hath showed, That bribes are always ill-bestowed, By you your bubbled master's taught, Time-serving tools, not friends, are bought.' _130

* * * * *

FABLE X.

THE DEGENERATE BEES.

TO THE REVEREND DR SWIFT, DEAN OF ST PATRICK'S.

Though Courts the practice disallow, A friend at all times I'll avow. In politics I know 'tis wrong: A friendship may be kept too long; And what they call the prudent part, Is to wear interest next the heart, As the times take a different face, Old friendships should to new give place. I know too you have many foes, That owning you is sharing those, _10 That every knave in every station, Of high and low denomination, For what you speak, and what you write, Dread you at once, and bear you spite. Such freedoms in your works are shown They can't enjoy what's not their own; All dunces too, in church and state, In frothy nonsense show their hate; With all the petty scribbling crew, (And those pert sots are not a few,) _20 'Gainst you and Pope their envy spurt, The booksellers alone are hurt. Good gods! by what a powerful race (For blockheads may have power and place) Are scandals raised and libels writ! To prove your honesty and wit! Think with yourself: Those worthy men, You know, have suffered by your pen. From them you've nothing but your due. From thence, 'tis plain, your friends are few. _30 Except myself, I know of none, Besides the wise and good alone. To set the case in fairer light, My fable shall the rest recite; Which (though unlike our present state) I for the moral's sake relate. A bee of cunning, not of parts, Luxurious, negligent of arts, Rapacious, arrogant, and vain, Greedy of power, but more of gain, _40 Corruption sowed throughout the hive, By petty rogues the great ones thrive. As power and wealth his views supplied, 'Twas seen in over-bearing pride. With him loud impudence had merit; The bee of conscience wanted spirit; And those who followed honour's rules, Were laughed to scorn for squeamish fools, Wealth claimed distinction, favour, grace; And poverty alone was base. _50 He treated industry with slight, Unless he found his profit by't. Eights, laws, and liberties gave way, To bring his selfish schemes in play. The swarm forgot the common toil, To share the gleanings of his spoil. 'While vulgar souls of narrow parts, Waste life in low mechanic arts, Let us,' says he, 'to genius born, The drudgery of our fathers scorn. _60 The wasp and drone, you must agree, Live with more elegance than we. Like gentlemen they sport and play; No business interrupts the day; Their hours to luxury they give, And nobly on their neighbours live.' A stubborn bee, among the swarm, With honest indignation warm, Thus from his cell with zeal replied: 'I slight thy frowns, and hate thy pride. _70 The laws our native rights protect; Offending thee, I those respect. Shall luxury corrupt the hive, And none against the torrent strive? Exert the honour of your race; He builds his rise on your disgrace. 'Tis industry our state maintains: 'Twas honest toils and honest gains That raised our sires to power and fame. Be virtuous; save yourselves from shame. _80 Know, that in selfish ends pursuing, You scramble for the public ruin.' He spoke; and from his cell dismissed, Was insolently scoffed and hissed. With him a friend or two resigned, Disdaining the degenerate kind. 'These drones,' says he, 'these insects vile, (I treat them in their proper style,) May for a time oppress the state, They own our virtue by their hate; _90 By that our merits they reveal, And recommend our public zeal; Disgraced by this corrupted crew, We're honoured by the virtuous few.'

* * * * *



FABLE XI.

THE PACK-HORSE AND THE CARRIER.

TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN.

Begin, my lord, in early youth, To suffer, nay, encourage truth: And blame me not for disrespect, If I the flatterer's style reject; With that, by menial tongues supplied, You're daily cocker'd up in pride. The tree's distinguished by the fruit, Be virtue then your sole pursuit; Set your great ancestors in view, Like them deserve the title too; 10 Like them ignoble actions scorn: Let virtue prove you greatly born. Though with less plate their sideboard shone, Their conscience always was their own; They ne'er at levees meanly fawned, Nor was their honour yearly pawned; Their hands, by no corruption stained, The ministerial bribe disdained; They served the crown with loyal zeal; Yet, jealous of the public weal, 20 They stood the bulwark of our laws, And wore at heart their country's cause; By neither place or pension bought, They spoke and voted as they thought. Thus did your sires adorn their seat; And such alone are truly great. If you the paths of learning slight, You're but a dunce in stronger light; In foremost rank the coward placed, Is more conspicuously disgraced. 30 If you to serve a paltry end, To knavish jobs can condescend, We pay you the contempt that's due; In that you have precedence too. Whence had you this illustrious name? From virtue and unblemished fame. By birth the name alone descends; Your honour on yourself depends: Think not your coronet can hide Assuming ignorance and pride. 40 Learning by study must be won, 'Twas ne'er entailed from son to son. Superior worth your rank requires; For that mankind reveres your sires; If you degenerate from your race, Their merits heighten your disgrace. A carrier, every night and morn, Would see his horses eat their corn: This sunk the hostler's vails, 'tis true; But then his horses had their due. 50 Were we so cautious in all cases, Small gain would rise from greater places. The manger now had all its measure; He heard the grinding teeth with pleasure; When all at once confusion rung; They snorted, jostled, bit, and flung: A pack-horse turned his head aside, Foaming, his eye-balls swelled with pride. 'Good gods!' says he, 'how hard's my lot! Is then my high descent forgot? 60 Reduced to drudgery and disgrace, (A life unworthy of my race,) Must I too bear the vile attacks Of rugged scrubs, and vulgar hacks? See scurvy Roan, that brute ill-bred, Dares from the manger thrust my head! Shall I, who boast a noble line, On offals of these creatures dine? Kicked by old Ball! so mean a foe! My honour suffers by the blow. 70 Newmarket speaks my grandsire's fame, All jockies still revere his name: There yearly are his triumphs told, There all his massy plates enrolled. Whene'er led forth upon the plain, You saw him with a livery train; Returning too with laurels crowned, You heard the drums and trumpets sound. Let it then, sir, be understood, Respect's my due; for I have blood.' 80 'Vain-glorious fool!' the carrier cried, 'Respect was never paid to pride. Know, 'twas thy giddy wilful heart Reduced thee to this slavish part. Did not thy headstrong youth disdain To learn the conduct of the rein? Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit, In vicious frolics fancy spirit. What is't to me by whom begot? Thou restive, pert, conceited sot. 90 Your sires I reverence; 'tis their due: But, worthless fool, what's that to you? Ask all the carriers on the road, They'll say thy keeping's ill bestowed. Then vaunt no more thy noble race, That neither mends thy strength or pace. What profits me thy boast of blood? An ass hath more intrinsic good. By outward show let's not be cheated; An ass should like an ass be treated.' 100

* * * * *

FABLE XII.

PAN AND FORTUNE.

TO A YOUNG HEIR.

Soon as your father's death was known, (As if the estate had been their own) The gamesters outwardly express'd The decent joy within your breast. So lavish in your praise they grew, As spoke their certain hopes in you. One counts your income of the year, How much in ready money clear. 'No house,' says he, 'is more complete; The garden's elegant and great. 10 How fine the park around it lies! The timber's of a noble size! Then count his jewels and his plate. Besides, 'tis no entailed estate. If cash run low, his lands in fee Are, or for sale, or mortgage free.' Thus they, before you threw the main, Seem to anticipate their gain. Would you, when thieves were known abroad, Bring forth your treasures in the road? 20 Would not the fool abet the stealth, Who rashly thus exposed his wealth? Yet this you do, whene'er you play Among the gentlemen of prey. Could fools to keep their own contrive, On what, on whom could gamesters thrive? Is it in charity you game, To save your worthy gang from shame? Unless you furnished daily bread, Which way could idleness be fed? 30 Could these professors of deceit Within the law no longer cheat, They must run bolder risks for prey, And strip the traveller on the way. Thus in your annual rents they share, And 'scape the noose from year to year. Consider, ere you make the bet, That sum might cross your tailor's debt. When you the pilfering rattle shake, Is not your honour too at stake? 40 Must you not by mean lies evade To-morrow's duns from every trade? By promises so often paid, Is yet your tailor's bill defrayed? Must you not pitifully fawn, To have your butcher's writ withdrawn? This must be done. In debts of play Your honour suffers no delay: And not this year's and next year's rent The sons of rapine can content. 50 Look round. The wrecks of play behold, Estates dismembered, mortgaged, sold! Their owners, not to jails confined, Show equal poverty of mind. Some, who the spoil of knaves were made, Too late attempt to learn their trade. Some, for the folly of one hour, Become the dirty tools of power, And, with the mercenary list, Upon court-charity subsist. 60 You'll find at last this maxim true, Fools are the game which knaves pursue. The forest (a whole century's shade) Must be one wasteful ruin made. No mercy's shewn to age or kind; The general massacre is signed. The park too shares the dreadful fate, For duns grow louder at the gate, Stern clowns, obedient to the squire, (What will not barbarous hands for hire?) 70 With brawny arms repeat the stroke. Fallen are the elm and reverend oak. Through the long wood loud axes sound, And echo groans with every wound. To see the desolation spread, Pan drops a tear, and hangs his head: His bosom now with fury burns: Beneath his hoof the dice he spurns. Cards, too, in peevish passion torn, The sport of whirling winds are borne. 80 'To snails inveterate hate I bear, Who spoil the verdure of the year; The caterpillar I detest, The blooming spring's voracious pest; The locust too, whose ravenous band Spreads sudden famine o'er the land. But what are these? The dice's throw At once hath laid a forest low. The cards are dealt, the bet is made, And the wide park hath lost its shade. 90 Thus is my kingdom's pride defaced, And all its ancient glories waste. All this,' he cries, 'is Fortune's doing: 'Tis thus she meditates my ruin. By Fortune, that false, fickle jade, More havoc in one hour is made, Than all the hungry insect race, Combined, can in an age deface.' Fortune, by chance, who near him pass'd, O'erheard the vile aspersion cast. 100 'Why, Pan,' says she, 'what's all this rant? 'Tis every country-bubble's cant; Am I the patroness of vice? Is't I who cog or palm the dice? Did I the shuffling art reveal, 105 To mark the cards, or range the deal? In all the employments men pursue, I mind the least what gamesters do. There may (if computation's just) One now and then my conduct trust: 110 I blame the fool, for what can I, When ninety-nine my power defy? These trust alone their fingers' ends, And not one stake on me depends. Whene'er the gaming board is set, Two classes of mankind are met: But if we count the greedy race, The knaves fill up the greater space. 'Tis a gross error, held in schools, That Fortune always favours fools. 120 In play it never bears dispute; That doctrine these felled oaks confute. Then why to me such rancour show? 'Tis folly, Pan, that is thy foe. By me his late estate he won, But he by folly was undone.'

* * * * *

FABLE XIII.

PLUTUS, CUPID, AND TIME.

Of all the burdens man must bear, Time seems most galling and severe: Beneath this grievous load oppressed, We daily meet some friend distressed. 'What can one do? I rose at nine. 'Tis full six hours before we dine: Six hours! no earthly thing to do! Would I had dozed in bed till two.' A pamphlet is before him spread, And almost half a page is read; _10 Tired with the study of the day, The fluttering sheets are tossed away. He opes his snuff-box, hums an air, Then yawns, and stretches in his chair. 'Not twenty, by the minute hand! Good gods:' says he, 'my watch must stand! How muddling 'tis on books to pore! I thought I'd read an hour or more, The morning, of all hours, I hate. One can't contrive to rise too late.' _20 To make the minutes faster run, Then too his tiresome self to shun, To the next coffee-house he speeds, Takes up the news, some scraps he reads. Sauntering, from chair to chair he trails; Now drinks his tea, now bites his nails. He spies a partner of his woe; By chat afflictions lighter grow; Each other's grievances they share, And thus their dreadful hours compare. _30 Says Tom, 'Since all men must confess, That time lies heavy more or less; Why should it be so hard to get Till two, a party at piquet? Play might relieve the lagging morn: By cards long wintry nights are borne: Does not quadrille amuse the fair, Night after night, throughout the year? Vapours and spleen forgot, at play They cheat uncounted hours away.' _40 'My case,' says Will, 'then must be hard By want of skill from play debarred. Courtiers kill time by various ways; Dependence wears out half their days. How happy these, whose time ne'er stands! Attendance takes it off their hands. Were it not for this cursed shower The park had whiled away an hour. At Court, without or place or view, I daily lose an hour or two; _50 It fully answers my design, When I have picked up friends to dine, The tavern makes our burden light; Wine puts our time and care to flight. At six (hard case!) they call to pay. Where can one go? I hate the play. From six till ten! Unless in sleep, One cannot spend the hours so cheap. The comedy's no sooner done, But some assembly is begun; _60 Loit'ring from room to room I stray; Converse, but nothing hear or say: Quite tired, from fair to fair I roam. So soon: I dread the thoughts of home. From thence, to quicken slow-paced night, Again my tavern-friends invite: Here too our early mornings pass, Till drowsy sleep retards the glass.' Thus they their wretched life bemoan, And make each other's case their own. _70 Consider, friends, no hour rolls on, But something of your grief is gone. Were you to schemes of business bred, Did you the paths of learning tread. Your hours, your days, would fly too fast; You'd then regret the minute past, Time's fugitive and light as wind! 'Tis indolence that clogs your mind! That load from off your spirits shake; You'll own and grieve for your mistake; _80 A while your thoughtless spleen suspend, Then read, and (if you can) attend. As Plutus, to divert his care, Walked forth one morn to take the air, Cupid o'ertook his strutting pace, Each stared upon the stranger's face, Till recollection set them right; For each knew t'other but by sight. After some complimental talk, Time met them, bowed, and joined their walk. _90 Their chat on various subjects ran, But most, what each had done for man. Plutus assumes a haughty air, Just like our purse-proud fellows here. 'Let kings,' says he, 'let cobblers tell, Whose gifts among mankind excel. Consider Courts: what draws their train? Think you 'tis loyalty or gain? That statesman hath the strongest hold, Whose tool of politics is gold. _100 By that, in former reigns, 'tis said, The knave in power hath senates led. By that alone he swayed debates, Enriched himself and beggared states. Forego your boast. You must conclude, That's most esteemed that's most pursued. Think too, in what a woful plight That wretch must live whose pocket's light. Are not his hours by want depress'd? Penurious care corrodes his breast. _110 Without respect, or love, or friends, His solitary day descends.' 'You might,' says Cupid, 'doubt my parts, My knowledge too in human hearts, Should I the power of gold dispute, Which great examples might confute. I know, when nothing else prevails, Persuasive money seldom fails; That beauty too (like other wares) Its price, as well as conscience, bears. _120 Then marriage (as of late profess'd) Is but a money-job at best. Consent, compliance may be sold: But love's beyond the price of gold. Smugglers there are, who by retail, Expose what they call love, to sale, Such bargains are an arrant cheat: You purchase flattery and deceit. Those who true love have ever tried, (The common cares of life supplied,) _130 No wants endure, no wishes make, But every real joy partake, All comfort on themselves depends; They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends. Love then hath every bliss in store: 'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Each other every wish they give, Not to know love, is not to live.' 'Or love, or money,' Time replied, 'Were men the question to decide, _140 Would bear the prize: on both intent, My boon's neglected or misspent. 'Tis I who measure vital space, And deal out years to human race. Though little prized, and seldom sought, Without me love and gold are nought. How does the miser time employ? Did I e'er see him life enjoy? By me forsook, the hoards he won, Are scattered by his lavish son. _150 By me all useful arts are gained; Wealth, learning, wisdom is attained. Who then would think (since such, my power) That e'er I knew an idle hour? So subtle and so swift I fly, Love's not more fugitive than I. Who hath not heard coquettes complain Of days, months, years, misspent in vain? For time misused they pine and waste, And love's sweet pleasures never taste. _160 Those who direct their time aright, If love or wealth their hopes excite, In each pursuit fit hours employed, And both by Time have been enjoyed. How heedless then are mortals grown! How little is their interest known? In every view they ought to mind me; For when once lost they never find me.' He spoke. The gods no more contest, And his superior gift confess'd; _170 That time when (truly understood) Is the most precious earthly good.

* * * * *

FABLE XIV.

THE OWL, THE SWAN, THE COCK, THE SPIDER, THE ASS, AND THE FARMER.

TO A MOTHER.

Conversing with your sprightly boys, Your eyes have spoke the mother's joys. With what delight I've heard you quote Their sayings in imperfect note! I grant, in body and in mind, Nature appears profusely kind. Trust not to that. Act you your part; Imprint just morals on their heart, Impartially their talents scan: Just education forms the man. 10 Perhaps (their genius yet unknown) Each lot of life's already thrown; That this shall plead, the next shall fight, The last assert the church's right. I censure not the fond intent; But how precarious is the event! By talents misapplied and cross'd, Consider, all your sons are lost. One day (the tale's by Martial penned) A father thus addressed his friend: 20 'To train my boy, and call forth sense, You know I've stuck at no expense; I've tried him in the several arts, (The lad no doubt hath latent parts,) Yet trying all, he nothing knows; But, crab-like, rather backward goes. Teach me what yet remains undone; 'Tis your advice shall fix my son.' 'Sir,' says the friend, 'I've weighed the matter; Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter: 30 Make him (nor think his genius checked) A herald or an architect.' Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known) He heard the advice, and took his own. The boy wants wit; he's sent to school, Where learning but improves the fool: The college next must give him parts, And cram him with the liberal arts. Whether he blunders at the bar, Or owes his infamy to war; 40 Or if by licence or degree The sexton shares the doctor's fee: Or from the pulpit by the hour He weekly floods of nonsense pour; We find (the intent of nature foiled) A tailor or a butcher spoiled. Thus ministers have royal boons Conferred on blockheads and buffoons: In spite of nature, merit, wit, Their friends for every post were fit. 50 But now let every Muse confess That merit finds its due success. The examples of our days regard; Where's virtue seen without reward? Distinguished and in place you find Desert and worth of every kind. Survey the reverend bench, and see, Religion, learning, piety: The patron, ere he recommends, Sees his own image in his friends. 60 Is honesty disgraced and poor? What is't to us what was before? We all of times corrupt have heard, When paltry minions were preferred; When all great offices by dozens, Were filled by brothers, sons, and cousins. What matter ignorance and pride? The man was happily allied. Provided that his clerk was good, What though he nothing understood? 70 In church and state, the sorry race Grew more conspicuous fools in place. Such heads, as then a treaty made, Had bungled in the cobbler's trade. Consider, patrons, that such elves, Expose your folly with themselves. 'Tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care, To fix each genius in its sphere. Your partial hand can wealth dispense, But never give a blockhead sense. 80 An owl of magisterial air, Of solemn voice, of brow austere, Assumed the pride of human race, And bore his wisdom in his face; Not to depreciate learned eyes, I've seen a pedant look as wise. Within a barn, from noise retired, He scorned the world, himself admired; And, like an ancient sage, concealed The follies public life revealed. 90 Philosophers of old, he read, Their country's youth to science bred, Their manners formed for every station, And destined each his occupation. When Xenophon, by numbers braved, Retreated, and a people saved, That laurel was not all his own; The plant by Socrates was sown; To Aristotle's greater name The Macedonian[10] owed his fame. 100 The Athenian bird, with pride replete, Their talents equalled in conceit; And, copying the Socratic rule, Set up for master of a school. Dogmatic jargon learnt by heart, Trite sentences, hard terms of art, To vulgar ears seemed so profound, They fancied learning in the sound. The school had fame: the crowded place With pupils swarmed of every race. 110 With these the swan's maternal care Had sent her scarce-fledged cygnet heir: The hen (though fond and loath to part) Here lodged the darling of her heart: The spider, of mechanic kind, Aspired to science more refined: The ass learnt metaphors and tropes, But most on music fixed his hopes. The pupils now advanced in age, Were called to tread life's busy stage. 120 And to the master 'twas submitted, That each might to his part be fitted. 'The swan,' says he, 'in arms shall shine: The soldier's glorious toil be thine. The cock shall mighty wealth attain: Go, seek it on the stormy main. The Court shall be the spider's sphere: Power, fortune, shall reward him there. In music's art the ass's fame Shall emulate Corelli's[1] name. 130 Each took the part that he advised, And all were equally despised; A farmer, at his folly moved, The dull preceptor thus reproved: 'Blockhead,' says he, 'by what you've done, One would have thought 'em each your son: For parents, to their offspring blind, Consult, nor parts, nor turn of mind; But even in infancy decree What this, what t'other son should be. 140 Had you with judgment weighed the case, Their genius thus had fixed their place: The swan had learnt the sailor's art; The cock had played the soldier's part; The spider in the weaver's trade With credit had a fortune made; But for the fool, in every class The blockhead had appeared an ass.'

* * * * *

FABLE XV.

THE COOK-MAID, THE TURNSPIT, AND THE OX.

TO A POOR MAN.

Consider man in every sphere, Then tell me is your lot severe? 'Tis murmur, discontent, distrust, That makes you wretched. God is just. I grant, that hunger must be fed, That toil too earns thy daily bread. What then? Thy wants are seen and known, But every mortal feels his own. We're born a restless, needy crew: Show me the happier man than you. 10 Adam, though blest above his kind, For want of social woman pined, Eve's wants the subtle serpent saw, Her fickle taste transgressed the law: Thus fell our sires; and their disgrace The curse entailed on human race. When Philip's son, by glory led, Had o'er the globe his empire spread; When altars to his name were dressed, That he was man, his tears confessed. 20 The hopes of avarice are check'd: The proud man always wants respect. What various wants on power attend! Ambition never gains its end. Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits and corporeal pain? He, barred from every use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health. Another in a beauteous wife Finds all the miseries of life: 30 Domestic jars and jealous fear Embitter all his days with care. This wants an heir, the line is lost: Why was that vain entail engross'd? Canst thou discern another's mind? Why is't you envy? Envy's blind. Tell Envy, when she would annoy, That thousands want what you enjoy. 'The dinner must be dished at one. Where's this vexatious turnspit gone? 40 Unless the skulking cur is caught, The sirloin's spoiled, and I'm in fault.' Thus said: (for sure you'll think it fit That I the cook-maid's oaths omit) With all the fury of a cook, Her cooler kitchen Nan forsook. The broomstick o'er her head she waves; She sweats, she stamps, she puffs, she raves. The sneaking cur before her flies: She whistles, calls; fair speech she tries. 50 These nought avail. Her choler burns; The fist and cudgel threat by turns; With hasty stride she presses near; He slinks aloof, and howls with fear. 'Was ever cur so cursed!' he cried, 'What star did at my birth preside? Am I for life by compact bound To tread the wheel's eternal round? Inglorious task! Of all our race No slave is half so mean and base. 60 Had fate a kinder lot assigned, And formed me of the lap-dog kind, I then, in higher life employed, Had indolence and ease enjoyed; And, like a gentleman, caress'd, Had been the lady's favourite guest. Or were I sprung from spaniel line, Was his sagacious nostril mine, By me, their never-erring guide, From wood and plain their feasts supplied 70 Knights, squires, attendant on my pace, Had shared the pleasures of the chase. Endued with native strength and fire, Why called I not the lion sire? A lion! such mean views I scorn. Why was I not of woman born? Who dares with reason's power contend? On man we brutal slaves depend: To him all creatures tribute pays, And luxury employs his days.' 80 An ox by chance o'erheard his moan, And thus rebuked the lazy drone: 'Dare you at partial fate repine? How kind's your lot compared with mine! Decreed to toil, the barbarous knife Hath severed me from social life; Urged by the stimulating goad, I drag the cumbrous waggon's load: 'Tis mine to tame the stubborn plain, Break the stiff soil, and house the grain; 90 Yet I without a murmur bear The various labours of the year. But then consider, that one day, (Perhaps the hour's not far away,) You, by the duties of your post, Shall turn the spit when I'm the roast: And for reward shall share the feast; I mean, shall pick my bones at least.' ''Till now,' the astonished cur replies, 'I looked on all with envious eyes. 100 How false we judge by what appears! All creatures feel their several cares. If thus yon mighty beast complains, Perhaps man knows superior pains. Let envy then no more torment: Think on the ox, and learn content.' Thus said: close following at her heel, With cheerful heart he mounts the wheel.



FABLE XVI.

THE RAVENS, THE SEXTON, AND THE EARTH-WORM.

TO LAURA.

Laura, methinks you're over nice. True, flattery is a shocking vice; Yet sure, whene'er the praise is just, One may commend without disgust. Am I a privilege denied, Indulged by every tongue beside? How singular are all your ways! A woman, and averse to praise! If 'tis offence such truths to tell, Why do your merits thus excel? _10 Since then I dare not speak my mind, A truth conspicuous to mankind; Though in full lustre every grace Distinguish your celestial face: Though beauties of inferior ray (Like stars before the orb of day) Turn pale and fade: I check my lays, Admiring what I dare not praise. If you the tribute due disdain, The Muse's mortifying strain _20 Shall like a woman in mere spite, Set beauty in a moral light. Though such revenge might shock the ear Of many a celebrated fair; I mean that superficial race Whose thoughts ne'er reach beyond their face; What's that to you? I but displease Such ever-girlish ears as these. Virtue can brook the thoughts of age, That lasts the same through every stage. _30 Though you by time must suffer more Than ever woman lost before; To age is such indifference shown, As if your face were not your own. Were you by Antoninus[1] taught? Or is it native strength of thought, That thus, without concern or fright, You view yourself by reason's light? Those eyes of so divine a ray, What are they? Mouldering, mortal clay. _40 Those features, cast in heavenly mould, Shall, like my coarser earth, grow old; Like common grass, the fairest flower Must feel the hoary season's power. How weak, how vain is human pride! Dares man upon himself confide? The wretch who glories in his gain, Amasses heaps on heaps in vain. Why lose we life in anxious cares, To lay in hoards for future years? _50 Can those (when tortured by disease) Cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease? Can those prolong one gasp of breath, Or calm the troubled hour of death? What's beauty? Call ye that your own? A flower that fades as soon as blown. What's man in all his boast of sway? Perhaps the tyrant of a day. Alike the laws of life take place Through every branch of human race, _60 The monarch of long regal line Was raised from dust as frail as mine. Can he pour health into his veins, Or cool the fever's restless pains? Can he (worn down in Nature's course) New-brace his feeble nerves with force? Can he (how vain is mortal power!) Stretch life beyond the destined hour? Consider, man; weigh well thy frame; The king, the beggar is the same. _70 Dust forms us all. Each breathes his day, Then sinks into his native clay. Beneath a venerable yew, That in the lonely church-yard grew, Two ravens sat. In solemn croak Thus one his hungry friend bespoke: 'Methinks I scent some rich repast; The savour strengthens with the blast; Snuff then, the promised feast inhale; I taste the carcase in the gale; _80 Near yonder trees, the farmer's steed, From toil and daily drudgery freed, Hath groaned his last. A dainty treat! To birds of taste delicious meat.' A sexton, busy at his trade, To hear their chat suspends his spade. Death struck him with no further thought, Than merely as the fees he brought. 'Was ever two such blundering fowls, In brains and manners less than owls! _90 Blockheads,' says he, 'learn more respect; Know ye on whom ye thus reflect? In this same grave (who does me right, Must own the work is strong and tight) The squire that yon fair hall possessed, Tonight shall lay his bones at rest. Whence could the gross mistake proceed? The squire was somewhat fat indeed. What then? The meanest bird of prey Such want of sense could ne'er betray; _100 For sure some difference must be found (Suppose the smelling organ sound) In carcases (say what we can) Or where's the dignity of man?' With due respect to human race, The ravens undertook the case. In such similitude of scent, Man ne'er eould think reflections meant. As epicures extol a treat, And seem their savoury words to eat, _110 They praised dead horse, luxurious food, The venison of the prescient brood. The sexton's indignation moved, The mean comparison reproved; The undiscerning palate blamed, Which two-legged carrion thus defamed. Reproachful speech from either side The want of argument supplied: They rail, revile: as often ends The contest of disputing friends. _120 'Hold,' says the fowl; 'since human pride With confutation ne'er complied, Let's state the case, and then refer The knotty point: for taste may err.' As thus he spoke, from out the mould An earth-worm, huge of size, unrolled His monstrous length. They straight agree To choose him as their referee. So to the experience of his jaws, Each states the merits of his cause. _130 He paused, and with a solemn tone, Thus made his sage opinion known: 'On carcases of every kind This maw hath elegantly dined; Provoked by luxury or need, On beast, on fowl, on man, I feed; Such small distinctions in the savour, By turns I choose the fancied flavour, Yet I must own (that human beast) A glutton is the rankest feast. _140 Man, cease this boast; for human pride Hath various tracts to range beside. The prince who kept the world in awe, The judge whose dictate fixed the law, The rich, the poor, the great, the small, Are levelled. Death confounds them all. Then think not that we reptiles share Such cates, such elegance of fair: The only true and real good Of man was never vermin's food. _150 'Tis seated in the immortal mind; Virtue distinguishes mankind, And that (as yet ne'er harboured here) Mounts with his soul we know not where. So, good man sexton, since the case Appears with such a dubious face, To neither I the cause determine, For different tastes please different vermin.'

END OF GAY'S FABLES.



SONGS.



SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

1

All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, The streamers waving in the wind, When black-eye'd Susan came aboard. Oh! where shall I my true-love find? Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, If my sweet William sails among the crew.

2

William, who high upon the yard Rock'd with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below; The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands, And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

3

So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast, (If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,) And drops at once into her nest. The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

4

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.

5

Believe not what the landmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind. They'll tell thee, sailors, when away, In every port a mistress find: Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

6

If to fair India's coast we sail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view, Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

7

Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn; Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms, William shall to his dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.

8

The boatswain gave the dreadful word, The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard: They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head. Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: Adieu! she cries; and waved her lily hand.

* * * * *

A BALLAD,

FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.

1

'Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind; A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined. Wide o'er the foaming billows She casts a wistful look; Her head was crown'd with willows, That trembled o'er the brook.

2

Twelve months are gone and over, And nine long tedious days. Why didst thou, venturous lover, Why didst thou trust the seas? Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean, And let my lover rest: Ah! what's thy troubled motion To that within my breast?

3

The merchant, robb'd of pleasure, Sees tempests in despair: But what's the loss of treasure, To losing of my dear? Should you some coast be laid on, Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd find a richer maiden, But none that loves you so.

4

How can they say that nature Has nothing made in vain; Why then beneath the water Should hideous rocks remain? No eyes the rocks discover, That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep.

5

All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd she for her dear; Repaid each blast with sighing, Each billow with a tear; When o'er the white wave stooping, His floating corpse she spied; Then, like a lily drooping, She bow'd her head, and died.

END OF GAY'S SONGS.

Footnotes:

[Footnote 1: Second son of George II.; born in 1721; he was five years old at the date of the publication of the 'Fables,' which were written for his instruction. He is 'Culloden' Cumberland.]

[Footnote 2: 'Siam,' a country famous for elephants.]

[Footnote 3: 'Gresham Hall,' originally the house of Sir Thomas Gresham in Winchester. It was converted by his will into a college, no remains of which now exist.]

[Footnote 4: 'Curl,' a famous publisher to Grub Street.]

[Footnote 5: Garth's Dispensary.]

[Footnote 6: 'Porta:' a native of Naples, famous for skill in the occult sciences. He wrote a book on Physiognomy, seeking to trace in the human face resemblances to animals, and to infer similar correspondences in mind.]

[Footnote 7: '——When impious men bear sway, The post of honour is a private station.'-ADDISON.]

[Footnote 8: 'Antiochus': See Plutarch.]

[Footnote 9: Barrow.]

[Footnote 10: 'The Macedonian:' Alexander the Great.]

[Footnote 11: 'Corelli:' Arcangelo, the greatest fiddler, till Paganini, that has appeared. He was born in the territory of Bologna, in 1653, and died in 1713.]

[Footnote 12: 'Antoninus:' Marcus, one of the few emperors who have been also philosophers.]



THE

LIFE OF WILLIAM SOMERVILLE.

* * * * *

There is a chapter in an old history of Iceland which has often moved merriment. The title of it is, "Concerning Snakes in Iceland," and the contents are, "Snakes in Iceland there are none." We suspect, when our "Life of William Somerville" is ended, not a few will find in it a parallel for that comprehensive chapter, although we strenuously maintain that the fault of an insipid and uninteresting life is not always to be charged on the biographer.

In "Sartor Resartus" our readers remember an epitaph, somewhat coarse, although disguised in good dog-Latin, upon a country squire, and his sayings and doings in this world. We have not a copy of that work at hand, and cannot quote the epitaph, nor would we, though we could, since even the dog-Latin is too plain and perspicuous for many readers. We recommend those, however, who choose to turn it up; and they will find in it (with the exception of the writing of "the Chase") the full history of William Somerville, of whom we know little, but that he was born, that he hunted, ate, drank, and died.

He was born in 1682; but in what month, or on what day, we are not informed. His estate was in Warwickshire, its name Edston, and he had inherited it from a long line of ancestors. His family prided itself upon being the first family in the county. He himself boasts of having been born on the banks of Avon, which has thus at least produced two poets, of somewhat different calibre indeed—the one a deer-stealer, and the other a fox-hunter—Shakspeare and Somerville. Somerville was educated at Winchester School, and was afterwards elected fellow of New College. From his studies—of his success in which we know nothing—he returned to his native county, and there, says Johnson, "was distinguished as a poet, a gentleman, and a skilful and useful justice of the peace;"—we may add, as a jovial companion and a daring fox-hunter. His estate brought him in about L1500 a-year, but his extravagance brought him into pecuniary distresses, which weighed upon his mind, plunged him into intemperate habits, and hurried him away in his 60th year. Shenstone, who knew him well, thus mourns aver his departure in one of his letters:—"Our old friend Somerville is dead; I did not imagine I could have been so sorry as I find myself on this occasion. Sublatum quoerimus, I can now excuse all his foibles; impute them to age and to distressed circumstances. The last of these considerations wrings my very soul to think on; for a man of high spirit, conscious of having (at least in one production) generally pleased the world, to be plagued and threatened by wretches that are low in every sense; to be forced to drink himself into pains of the body in order to get rid of the pains of the mind, is a misery."

Somerville died July 19, 1742, and was buried at Wotton, near Henley-on-Arden. His estate went to Lord Somerville in Scotland, but his mother, who lived to a great age, had a jointure of L600. He describes himself, in verses addressed to Allan Ramsay, as

"A squire, well-born and six feet high."

He seems, from the affection and sympathy discovered for him by Shenstone, to have possessed the virtues as well as the vices of the squirearchy of that age; their frankness, sociality, and heart, as well as their improvidence and tendency to excess; and may altogether be called a sublimated Squire Western.

As to his poetry, much of it is beneath criticism. His "Fables," "Tales," "Hobbinol, or Rural Games," &c., have all in them poetical lines, but cannot, as a whole, be called poetry. He wrote some verses, entitled "Address to Addison," on the latter purchasing an estate in Warwickshire (he gave his Countess L4000 in exchange for it). In this there are two lines which Dr Johnson highly commends, saying "They are written with the most exquisite delicacy of praise; they exhibit one of those happy strokes that are seldom attained."—Here is this bepraised couplet:—