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Like Orpheus burnt with public zeal,
To civilize the Monkey weal:
So watch'd occafion, broke his chain,
And fought his native woods again.

The hairy fylvans round him prefs,
Aftonish'd at his ftrut and drefs.
Some praise his fleeve; and others glote
Upon his rich embroider'd coat;
His dapper periwig commending,
With the black tail behind depending:
His powder'd back, above, below,
Like hoary frott, or fleecy fnow;
But all with envy and defire
His flutt'ring fhoulder-knot admire.
Hear and improve, he pertly cries;
I come to make a nation wife.

Weigh your own worth, fupport your place,
The next in rank to human race.
In cities long I pafs'd my days,
Convers'd with men, and learn'd their ways.
Their dress, their courtly manners fee;
Reform your state, and copy me.
Seek ye to thrive in flatt'ry deal;
Your fcorn, 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 fpatter merit;
Scandal is converfation's fpirit.
Boldly to ev'ry thing attend,
And men your talents thall commend.
I knew the great. Obferve me right;

So fhall you grow like man polite.

As thus he walk'd in mufing thought,
His ear imperfect accents caught;
With cautious fteps he nearer drew:
By the thick fhade concea!'d from view,
High on the branch a Pheasant stood;
Around her all her lift'ning brood;
Proud of the bleffings of her nest,
She thus a mother's care exprefs'd:
No dangers here fhall circumvent;
Within the woods enjoy content.
Sooner the hawk or vulture trust
Than Man, of animals the worlt;
In him ingratitude you find;
A vice peculiar to the kind.

The fheep, whofe annual fleece is dyed
To guard his health, and ferve his pride,
Forc'd from his fold and native plain,
Is in the cruel shambles flain.
The fwarms who, with induftrious skill,
His hives with wax and honey fill.
In vain whole fummer days employ'd,
Their ftores are fold, their race deftroy'd.
What tribute from the goofe is paid!
Does not her wing all fcience aid?
Does it not lovers hearts explain,
And drudge to raise the merchant's gain?
What now rewards this gen'ral use?
He takes the quills, and eats the goose.
Man then avoid, deteft his ways;
So fafety fhall prolong your days.
When fervices are thus acquitted,
Be fure we Pheasants must be spitted.

He fpoke, and bow'd. With mutt'ring jaws $136. FABLE XVI. The Pin and the Nee

The wond'ring circle grinn'd applause.
Now, warm with malice, envy, spite,
Their moft obliging friends they bite;
And, fond to copy human ways,
Practife new mischiefs all their days.

Thus the dull Lad, too tall for school,
With travel finishes the fool;
Studious of ev'ry coxcomb's airs,

He drinks, games, dreffes, whores, and swears;
O'erlooks with fcorn all virtuous arts;
For vice is fitted to his parts.

$135. FABLE XV.

The Philofopher and the Pheasants. THE Sage, awak'd at early day, Thro' the deep foreft took his way; Drawn by the mufic of the groves, Along the winding gloom he roves: From tree to tree the warbling throats Prolong the fweet alternate notes. But where he pafs'd he terror threw; The fong broke fhort, the warblers flew ; The thrushes chatter'd with affright, And nightingales abhorr'd his fight; All anim Is before him ran, To thun te hateful fight of man.

Wher ce is this dread of ev'ry creature? Fly they our figure, or our nature?

A PIN, who long had ferv'd a beauty,
Proficient in the toilet's duty.

Had form'd her fleeve, confin'd her hair,
Or given her knot a smarter air,
Now nearest to her heart was plac❜ð,
Now in her mantua's tail difgrac'd:
But could the partial fortune blame,
Who faw her lover ferv'd the fame.

At length, from all her honours caft,
Through various turns of life the pals'd;
Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm;
Now kept a beggar's infant warm;
Now, rang'd within a mifer's coat,
Contributes to his yearly groat:
Now rais'd again from low approach,
She vitits in the doctor's coach;
Here, there, by various fortune toft,
At laft in Gresham-hall was loft.
Charm'd with the wonders of the show,
On ev'ry fide, above, below,
She now of this or that enquires;
What leaft was understood admires.
Iis plain, each thing fo ftruck her mind,
Her head's of virtuoso kind.

And pray what's this, and this, dear Sir? A Needle, fays the interpreter. She knew the name: and thus the fool Addrefs'd her as a taylor's tool.

A need

A net with that filthy ftone,
C, with ruft o'ergrown!
Ya night employ your parts,
And the tempftrefs in her arts.
Beni me how the friendship grew,
Sewes that paltry Aint and you.

Fred, fays the Needle, ceafe to blame;
I was real worth and fame.
Known the loadstone's pow'r and art,
Tev virtues can impart?
Catents I partake;
Esch a friend forfake!
at the pilot's hand

the rocks and treach'rous fand; the diftant world is known, Ander India is our own. hat I with a finers been bred,

dba? the guide of thread, 42-g'd is vulgar needles do, Amate conlequence than you.

17 FABLE XVII. The Shepherd's Dog
and the Wolf.

A We hunger fierce and bold,
Rangexans, and thinn'd the fold;
Daod fecure he lay;
Taight regal'd the day.

benherd's wakeful care

Etre toils, and watch'd the snare; ate Dog purfued his pace,

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fester ber mock'd the chace.
As Lt ang'd the foreft round,
se's retreat he found.

As the Wolf. 'Tis done.
T Dette arey thus begun :
Baca the bong intrepid mind
Arta a ak defenceless kind?
Ta prey on nobler food,
And the bar's and lion's blood;
Great gen'rous pity melt,
W coward tyrants never felt.
*s is our fleecy care!
be, ad let thy mercy spare.

ys the Wolf, the matter weigh;

deign'd us beafts of prey;

when hunger finds a treat,

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ry Wolves fhould eat.

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of the bleating weal,

abarn with real zeal,

d thy tyrant lord befeech; Tat the moving speech: Ats theep but now and then; Imants are devour'd by men. Abe may prove a curfe; Beaded friend is worse.

Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes ev'n his real courage doubted:
But flatt'ry never feems abfurd,
The flatter'd always take your word:
Impoffibilities seem juft;

They take the strongest praife on trust.
Hyperboles, tho' ne'er fo great,
Will ftill come fhort of felf-conceit.

So very like, a Painter drew,
That ev'ry eye the picture knew;
He hit complexion, feature, air,
So juft, the life itself was there.
No flatt'ry with his colours laid,
To bloom reftor'd the faded maid;
He gave each muscle all its strength;
The mouth, the chin, the nofe's length,
His honeft pencil touch'd with truth,
And mark' the date of age and youth.
He loft his friends, his practice fail'd;
Truth fhould not always be reveal'd;
In dufty piles his pictures lay,
For no one fent the fecond pay.
Two buftos, fraught with ev'ry grace,
A Venus and Apollo's face,
He plac'd in view; refolv'd to please
Whoever fat, he drew from these;
From thefe corrected ev'ry feature,
And fpirited each awkward creature.

All things were fet; the hour was come,
His pallet ready o'er his thumb,
My Lord appear'd; and, feated right
In proper attitude and light,

The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,
Then dipp'd his pencil, talk'd of Greece.
Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;
Thofe eyes, my Lord, the spirit there
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.
Obferve the work. My Lord replied,
Till now I thought my mouth was wide;
Befides, my nose is somewhat long ;
Dear Sir, for me 'tis far too young.

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 examin'd it anew;
No looking-glafs feem'd half fo true.

A Lady came; with borrow'd grace,
He from his Venus form'd her face.
Her lover prais'd the Painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
To ev'ry age fome charm he lent;
Ev'n beauties were almost content.

138 FALLE XVIII. The Painter who pleafed Thre all the town his art they prais'd;

body and every body.

en fufpect your tale untrue,

ibility in view.

Taver leaping o'er those bounds, The craft of his book confounds,

His cuftom grew, his price was rais'd.
Had he the real likenefs fhewn,
Would any man the picture own?
But when thus happily he wrought,
Each found the likeness in his thought.

§ 139.

139. FABLE XIX. The Lion and the Cub. How fond are men of rule and place, Who court it from the mean and bale! These cannot bear an equal nigh, But from fuperior merit fly. They love the cellar's vulgar joke, And lofe their hours in ale and firoke, There o'er fome petty club prefide; So poor, fo paltry is their pride! Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit, In hopes to be fupreme in wit. If these can read, to these I write, To fet their worth in trueft light.

A Lion-cub, of fordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;

Fond of applaufe he fought the feasts
Of vulgar and ignoble beafts;
With affes all his time he spent;
Their club's perpetual prefident,
He caught their manners, looks, and airs;
An afs in ev'ry thing but ears!
If e'er his highness meant a joke,
They grinn'd applaufe before he fpoke;
But at each word what fhouts of praife!
Good gods! how natural he brays!
Elate with flatt'ry and conceit,
He feeks his royal fire's retreat;
Forward, and fond to shew his parts,
His highnefs brays; the Lion starts:
Puppy! that curs'd vociferation
Betrays thy life and converfation:
Coxcombs, an ever-noify race,
Are trumpets of their own difgrace.
Why fo fevere? the Cub replies;
Our fenate always held me wife.

How weak is pride! returns the fire;
All fools are vain when fools admire !
But know, what stupid affes prize,
Lions and noble beaits defpife.

§ 140. FABLE XX. The Old Hen and the Cock. RESTRAIN your child; you 'll foon believe The text which fays, We fprung from Eve.' As an old Hen led forth her train, And feem'd to peck to fhew the grain; She rak'd the chaff, the fcratch'd the ground, And glean'd the spacious yard around. A giddy Chick, to try her wings, On the well's narrow margin fprings, And prone the drops. The mother's breaft All day with forrow was poffeft.

A Cock the met; her fon fhe knew,
And in her heart affection grew.

My fon, fays the, I grant your years
Have reach'd beyond a mother's cares.
I fee you vig'rous, ftrong, 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; the fatal place
Is fure perdition to our race.
Print this my counfel on thy breast:
To the just gods I leave the reit.

He thank'd her care; yet day by day His bofom burn'd to disobey; And ev'ry time the well he faw, Scorn'd in his heart the foolish law: Near and more near each day he drew, And long'd to try the dang'rous view.

Why was this idle charge? he cries; Let courage female fears defpife. Or did the doubt my heart was brave, And therefore this injunction gave? Or does her harvest store the place, A treafure for her younger race? And would the thus my fearch prevent? I ftand refolv'd, and dare th' event.

Thus faid, he mounts the margin's rou And pries into the depth profound. He ftretch'd his neck; and from below With ftretching neck advanc'd a foe: With wrath his ruffled plumes he rears, The foe with ruffled plumes appears: Threat answer'd threat; his fury grew; Headlong to meet the war he flew; But when the wat`ry death he found, He thus lamented as he drown'd:

I ne'er had been in this condition,
But for my mother's prohibition.

$141. FABLE XXI. The Rat-Catcher and C
THE rats by night such mitchief did,
Betty was ev'ry morning chid:
They undermin'd whole tides of bacon;
Her cheele was fapp'd, her tarts were taken
Her palties, fenc'd with thickeft pafte,
Were all demolith'd and laid waite.
She curs'd the Cat for want of duty,
Who left her foes a conftant booty.
An Engineer of noted skill
Engag'd to ftop the growing ill.

From room to room he now furveys Their haunts, their works, their fecret wa Finds where they 'fcape an ambuscade, And whence the nightly fally's made.

An envious Cat from place to place,
Unfeen attends his filent pace.
She faw that, if his trade went on,
The purring race muit be undone;
So fecretly removes his baits,
And ev'ry ftratagem defeats.

Again he fets the poison'd toils,
And Pufs again the labour foils.

"What foe (to fruftrate my designs) "My fchemes thus nightly countermines? Incens'd, he cries: "this very hour "The wretch fhall bleed beneath my pow'r. So faid-a pond'rous trap he brought, And in the fact poor Pufs was caught. "Smuggler," fays he, "thou shalt be ma "A victim to our lofs of trade."

The captive Cat, with piteous mews, For pardon, life, and freedom fues. "A fifter of the science spare; "One int'reft is our common care.”

"What infolence!" the man replied; "Shall Cats with us the game divide?

"W

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"Weral your interloping band
Extinh'd, or expell'd the land,
We Ex-catchers might raise our fees,
guardians of a nation's cheese!"
A Cit, who faw the lifted knife,
Tha (poke, and fav'd her fifter's life:
In ev'ry age and clime we see,
Two of a trade can ne'er agree.

Each hates his neighbour for encroaching;
Squire figmatifes fquire for poaching;
⚫ with beauties are in arms,
*And fadal pelts each other's charms;
Kng to their neighbour kings dethrone,
'la bose to make the world their own.
At us limit our defires;

Het war like beauties, kings, and squires;
For tho' we both one prey pursue,
There's game enough for us and you.'

(142. PABLE XXII. The Goat without a Beard.
Tis certain that the modifh paffions
Dicend among the crowd, like fashions.
Exce, then, if pride, conceit
(The of the fair and great),
I give to monkeys, affes, hogs,
Fless, cals, goats, butterflies, and dogs.
I hay that these are proud: what then?
Inver aid they equal men.

A Goat (as vain as Goat can be)
Aced ingularity.

Wer a thymy bank he found,
He&upon the fragrant ground;
And then with fond attention ftood,
Fateh mage in the flood.
• 1 tate my frowly beard," he cries;
My youth alot in this difguife.
Did not the females know my vigour,
Welight they loath this rev'rend figure."
Resolv'd to fmooth his fhaggy face,
Heught the barber of the place.
A post monkey, fpruce and smart,
Hane by profefs'd the dapper art;

poe with pewter bafons hung;
Back rotten teeth in order ftrung;
acups that in the window ftood,
Lat with red rags, to look like blood,
The bis threefold trade explain:

Stubborn in pride, retain the mode,
And bear about the hairy load?
Whene'er we through the village stray,
Are we not mock'd along the way,
Infulted with loud fhouts of scorn,
By boys our beards difgrac'd and torn?"
Were you no more with Goats to dwell,
Brother, I grant you reafon well,'
Replies a bearded chief.-' Befide,
If boys can mortify thy pride,
How wilt thou ftand the ridicule
Of our whole flock? Affected fool!
Coxcombs diftinguish'd from the reft,
To all but coxcombs are a jelt.'

$143. FABLE XXIII. The Old Woman
and her Cats.

WHO friendship with a knave hath made,
Is judg'd a partner in the trade.
The matron who conducts abroad
A willing nymph, is thought a bawd;
And if a modeft girl is feen
With one who cures a lover's fpleen,
We guefs her not extremely nice,
And only with to know her price.
'Tis thus that on the choice of friends
Our good or evil name depends.

A wrinkled Hag, of wicked fame,
Befide a little finoky flame

Sat hov'ring, pinch'd with age and frost:
Her fhrivell'd hands, with veins emboit,
Upon her knees her weight fuftains,
While palfy fhook her crazy brains:
She mumbles forth her backward pray'rs,
An untam'd fcold of fourscore years.
About her fwarm'd a num'rous brood
Of Cats, who lank with hunger mew'd.

Teas'd with their cries, her choler grew;
And thus the fputter: Hence, ye crew!

Fool that I was, to entertain

Such imps, fuch fiends, a hellish train!
Had ye been never hous'd and nurs'd,
I for a witch had ne'er been curs'd.
To you I owe that crowds of boys
Worry me with eternal noife;
Straws laid across my pace retard;

The horfe-fhoe's nail'd (each threshold's guard),
The stunted broom the wenches hide,

Watay'd, drew teeth, and breath'd a vein. For fear that I should up and ride ;

The Goat he welcomes with an air,

at bin in his wooden chair: Mofe, and cheek the lather hides; mooth, and fwift, the razor glides. I hope your cuftom, Sir," fays pug; never face was half fo fmug.' The Goat, impatient for applaule, to the neighb'ring hill withdraws; fary people grinn'd and star'd: ghday! what's here, without a beard? , brother, whence the dire difgrace? What envious hand hath robb'd your face? When thas the fop, with smiles of fcorn: Are beards by civil nations worn? Muscovites have mow'd their chins. we, like formal Capuchins,

They ftick with pins my bleeding feat,
And bid me fhew my fecret teat.'

"To hear you prate would vex a faint:
Who hath moft reafon of complaint?"
Replies a Cat. “Let's come to proof:
Had we ne'er ftarv'd beneath your roof,
We had, like others of our race,
In credit liv'd, as beafts of chace.
'Tis infamy to ferve a hag;
Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag;
And boys against our lives combine,
Becaufe 'tis faid your cats have mine.”

$144. FABLE XXIV. The Butterfly and Snail.
ALL upftarts infolent in place
Remind us of their vulgar race.

As,

As, in the funshine of the morn,
A Butterfly but newly born
Sat proudly perking on a rofe,
With pert conceit his bofom glows;
His wings, all glorious to behold,
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he difplays; the fpangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.

His now-forgotten friend, a Snail,
Beneath his houfe, with flimy trail,
Crawls o'er the grafs; whom when he fpies,
In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:

"What means yon peafant's daily toil,
From choking weeds to rid the foil?
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?
Were they to feat his taste design'd,
That vermin of voracious kind?
Crush then the flow, the pilf'ring race;
So purge thy garden from difgrace."

What arrogance!' the Snail replied;
How infolent is upftart pride!
Had thou not thus, with infult vain,
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the fcum of earth.
For fcarce nine funs have wak'd the hours,
To fwell the fruit and paint the flow'rs,
Since I thy humbler life furvey'd,
In bafe and fordid guise array'd;
A hideous infect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a flow and noifome train;
And from your fpider-bowels drew
Foul film, and spun the dirty clue.
I own my humble life, good friend;
Snail was I born. and Snail shall end.
And what's a Butterfly? At best
He's but a caterpillar dreft;
And all thy race (a num'rous feed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'

Now reputations flew in pieces, Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces She ran the Parrot's language o`er, Bawd, huffy, drunkard, flattern, whore; On all the fex fhe vents her fury; Tries and condemns without a jury.

At once the torrent of her words Alarm'd cat, monkey, dogs, and birds; All join their forces to confound her; Pufs fpits, the monkey chatters round her The yelping cur her heels affaults; The magpye blabs out all her faults; Poll, in the uproar, from his cage, With this rebuke out fcream'd her rage: "A Parrot is for talking priz'd, But prattling women are despis'd. She who attacks another's honour Draws ev'ry living thing upon her. Think, Madam, when you ftretch your lur That all your neighbours too have tongues: One flander muft ten thousand get; The world with int'rest pays the debt."

The Cur and the Ma

§ 146. FABLE XXVI. A SNEAKING Cur, the master's ipy, Rewarded for his daily lie, With fecret jealousies and fears Set all together by the ears. Poor Pufs to-day was in difgrace, Another cat fupplied 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.

A plan to rob the houfe was laid: The thief with love feduc'd the maid; Cajol'd the Cur, and itrok'd his head, And bought his fecrecy with bread. He next the Maftiff's honour tried; Whofe honeft jaws the bribe defied. He ftretch'd his hand to proffer more; The furly dog his fingers tore.

Swift ran the Cur; with indignation The mafter took his information.

§ 145. FABLE XXV. The Scold and the Parrot. Hang him, the villain's curft, he cries;

THE husband thus reprov'd his wife:

"Who deals in flander lives in strife.
Art thou the herald of difgrace,
Denouncing war to all thy race?
Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage,
Which fpares no friend, nor fex, nor age?
That vixen tongue of yours, my dear,
Alarms our neighbours far and near.
Good gods! 'tis like a rolling river,
That murm'ring flows, and Hows for ever!
Ne'er tir'd, perpetual difcord fowing!
Like fame, it gathers ftrength by going."

Heighday! the flippant tongue replies,
How folemn is the fool, how wife!
Is nature's choicelt gift debarr'd?
Nay, frown not, for I will be heard.
Women of late are finely ridden;
A parrot's privilege forbidden

You praife his talk, his fqualling fong;
But wives are always in the wrong.

And round his neck the halter ties.

The Dog his humble fuit preferr'd,
And begged in justice to be heard.
The mafter fat. 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 of either fide.
Think not that treach'ry can be just;
Take not informers' words on trust.
They ope their hand to ev'ry pay,
And you and me by turns betray.

He fpoke; and all the truth appear'd: The Cur was hang'd, the Mastiff clear'd. The Sick Man &

the Angel.

§ 147. FABLE XXVII. Is there no hope? the Sick Man faid; The filent doctor thook his head,

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