And well revenge may rest contented,

Since drums and parchment were invented.'

FABLE VI.

THE MISER AND PLUTUS.

THE wind was high, the window shakes,
With sudden start the miser wakes;
Along the silent room he stalks;

Looks back, and trembles as he walks!
Each lock and every bolt he tries,
In every creek and corner prys,

Then opes the chest with treasure stored,
And stands in rapture o'er his hoard;
But, now with sudden qualms possess'd,
He wrings his hands, he beats his breast.
By conscience stung, he wildly stares;
And thus his guilty soul declares:

'Had the deep earth her stores confined,
This heart had known sweet peace of mind.
But virtue's sold. Good gods, what price
Can recompense the pangs of vice!

O bane of good! seducing cheat!

Can man, weak man, thy power defeat?
Gold banished honour from the mind,
And only left the name behind;
Gold sowed the world with every ill;

Gold taught the murderer's sword to kill:
'Twas gold instructed coward hearts,
In treachery's more pernicious arts.
Who can recount the mischiefs o'er?
Virtue resides on earth no more!'

He spoke, and sighed. In angry mood,
Plutus, his god, before him stood.
The miser, trembling, locked his chest;
The vision frowned, and thus address'd:
Whence is this vile ungrateful rant?
Each sordid rascal's daily cant.

Did I, base wretch, corrupt mankind?
The fault's in thy rapacious mind.
Because my blessings are abused,
Must I be censured, cursed, accused?
Even virtue's self by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade;

And power (when lodged in their possession)
Grows tyranny, and rank oppression.
Thus, when the villain crams his chest,
Gold is the canker of the breast;
'Tis avarice, insolence, and pride,
And every shocking vice beside.
But when to virtuous hands 'tis given,
It blesses, like the dews of heaven:
Like Heaven, it hears the orphan's cries,
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes;
Their crimes on gold shall misers lay,
Who pawned their sordid souls for pay?
Let bravoes then (when blood is spilt)
Upbraid the passive sword with guilt.'

FABLE VII.

THE LION, THE FOX, AND THE GEESE.

A LION, tired with state affairs,

Quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares,

Resolved (remote from noise and strife)
In peace to pass his latter life.

It was proclaimed; the day was set;
Behold the general council met,
The fox was viceroy named. The crowd
To the new regent humbly bowed.
Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend,
And strive who most shall condescend.
He straight assumes a solemn grace,
Collects his wisdom in his face.
The crowd admire his wit, his sense:
Each word hath weight and consequence.
The flatterer all his art displays:
He who hath power, is sure of praise.
A fox stept forth before the rest,
And thus the servile throng address'd.

'How vast his talents, born to rule,
And trained in virtue's honest school:
What clemency his temper sways!
How uncorrupt are all his ways!
Beneath his conduct and command,
Rapine shall cease to waste the land.
His brain hath stratagem and art;
Prudence and mercy rule his heart;
What blessings must attend the nation.
Under this good administration!'

He said. A goose who distant stood,
Harangued apart the cackling brood:
'Whene'er I hear a knave commend,
He bids me shun his worthy friend.
What praise! what mighty commendation!
But 'twas a fox who spoke the oration.
Foxes this government may prize,

As gentle, plentiful, and wise;

If they enjoy the sweets, 'tis plain
We geese must feel a tyrant reign.
What havoc now shall thin our race,
When every petty clerk in place,
To prove his taste and seem polite,
Will feed on geese both noon and night!'

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FABLE VIII.

THE LADY AND THE WASP.

WHAT Whispers must the beauty bear!
What hourly nonsense haunts her ear!
Where'er her eyes dispense their charms,
Impertinence around her swarms.
Did not the tender nonsense strike,
Contempt and scorn might soon dislike.
Forbidding airs might thin the place,
The slightest flap a fly can chase.

But who can drive the numerous breed?
Chase one, another will succeed.

Who knows a fool, must know his brother;
One fop will recommend another:

And with this plague she 's rightly curs'd,
Because she listened to the first.

As Doris, at her toilet's duty,
Sat meditating on her beauty,
She now was pensive, now was gay,
And lolled the sultry hours away.

As thus in indolence she lies,

A giddy wasp around her flies.

He now advances, now retires,
Now to her neck and cheek aspires.

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Her fan in vain defends her charms;
Swift he returns, again alarms;
For by repulse he bolder grew,

Perched on her lip, and sipp'd the dew.
She frowns, she frets.

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Good God!' she cries,

'Protect me from these teasing flies!

Of all the plagues that heaven hath sent,
A wasp is most impertinent.'

The hovering insect thus complained:
'Am I then slighted, scorned, disdained?
Can such offence your anger wake?
'Twas beauty caused the bold mistake.
Those cherry lips that breathe perfume,
That cheek so ripe with youthful bloom,
Made me with strong desire pursue
The fairest peach that ever grew.'
'Strike him not, Jenny,' Doris cries,
"Nor murder wasps like vulgar flies:
For though he's free (to do him right)
The creature's civil and polite.'

In ecstacies away he posts;
Where'er he came, the favour boasts;
Brags how her sweetest tea he sips,
And shows the sugar on his lips.
The hint alarmed the forward crew;
Sure of success, away they flew.
They share the dainties of the day,
Round her with airy music play;
And now they flutter, now they rest,
Now soar again, and skim her breast.
Nor were they banished, till she found
That wasps have stings, and felt the wound.

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