Speak out your wants then, honeft friend :
Unjust complaints the gods offend.
If you repine at partial fate,
Inftruct me what could mend your
Mankind in every station fee.

ftate.

What with you? tell me what you'd be.
So faid, upborne upon a cloud,
The clown furvey'd the anxious croud.
Yon face of care, fays Jove, behold,
His bulky bags are fill'd with gold.
See with what joy he counts it o'er!
That fum to day hath fwell'd his store.
Were I that man, (the peasant cry'd)
What bleffing could I ask befide?

Hold, fays the GOD; first learn to know
True happiness from outward fhow.
This optic glafs of intuition-

Here, take it, view his true condition.
He look'd, and faw the mifer's breast,
A troubled ocean, ne'er at rest;
Want ever ftares him in the face,
And fear anticipates difgrace:
With confcious guilt he faw him ftart;
Extortion gnaws his throbbing heart;
And never, or in thought or dream,
His breaft admits one happy gleam.
May fove, he cries, reject my pray❜r,
And guard my life from guilt and care.
My foul abhors that wretch's fate,
O keep me in my humble state!
But fee amidst a gawdy crowd,
Yon minifter fo gay and proud;
On him what happiness attends,
Who thus rewards his grateful friends!
First take the glafs, the God replies;
Man views the world with partial eyes.
Good gods! exclaims the ftartled wight,
Defend me from this hideous fight!
Corruption, with corrofive fmart,
Lies cank'ring on his guilty heart:

I fee

I fee him, with polluted hand,
Spread the contagion o'er the land.
Now av'rice with infatiate jaws,
Now rapine with her harpy claws,
His bofom tears. His confcious breaft
Groans with a load of crimes oppreft.
See him, mad and drunk with power,
Stand tott'ring on ambition's tower.
Sometimes, in fpeeches vain and proud,
His boafts infult the nether crowd;
Now, feiz'd with giddinefs and fear,
He trembles left his fall is near.

Was ever wretch like this, he cries!
Such mifery in fuch disguise!
The change, O Jove, I difavow;
Still be my lot the fpade and plough.
He next, confirm'd by fpeculation,
Rejects the lawyer's occupation;
For he the ftatefman feem'd in part,
And bore fimilitude of heart,

Nor did the foldier's trade inflame
His hopes with thirft of fpoil and fame:
The miseries of war he mourn'd;
Whole nations into defarts turn'd.

By these have laws and rights been brav'd;
By thefe was free-born man inflav'd:
When battles and invafion cease,

Why fwarm they in the lands of peace
Such change (fays he) may I decline;
The fcythe and civil arms be mine!

Thus, weighing life in each condition,
The clown withdrew his rafh petition.
When thus the God: How mortals err !
If you true happiness prefer,
'Tis to no rank of life confin'd,
But dwells in ev'ry honeft mind.
Be juftice then your fole purfuit;
Plant virtue, and content's the fruit.
So Jove, to gratify the clown,
Where firft he found him fet him down.

:

The PACK-HORSE and the CARRIER.

[GAY.]

TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN.

EGIN, my Lord, in early youth,

And blame me not for difrefpect,
If I the flatt'rer's ftyle reject;
With that by menial tongues fupply'd,
You're daily cocker'd up in pride.
The tree's diftinguish'd by the fruit,
Be virtue then your first purfuit:
Set your great ancestors in view,
Like them deferve the title too;
Like them ignoble actions fcorn:
Let virtue prove you greatly born.

Though with lefs plate their fide-board fhone,
Their confcience always was their own;
They ne'er at levees meanly fawn'd,

Nor was their honour yearly pawn'd;
Their hands, by no corruption ftain'd,
The minifterial bribe difdain'd;
They ferv'd the crown with loyal zeal,
Yet jealous of the publick weal;
They ftood the bulwark of our laws,
And wore at heart their country's caufe ;
By neither place or penfion bought,
They fpoke and voted as they thought.
Thus did your fires adorn their feat;
And fuch alone are truly great.

If you the paths of learning flight,
You're but a dunce in ftronger light:
In foremost rank, the coward, plac'd,
Is more confpicuously disgrac'd.
If you to ferve a paltry end,
To knavifh jobs can condescend,
We pay you the contempt that's due;
In that you have precedence too.

Whence

Whence had you this illuftrious name?
From virtue and unblemish'd fame.
By birth the name alone descends;
Your honour on yourfelf depends.
Think not your coronet can hide
Affuming ignorance and pride.
Learning by ftudy must be won,
'Twas ne'er entail'd from fon to for.
Superior worth your rank requires ;
For that mankind reveres your fires;
If you degenerate from your race,
Their merits heighten your difgrace.

A Carrier, ev'ry night and morn,
Would fee his horfes eat their corn.
This funk the hostler's vails, 'tis true;
But then his horfes had their due.
Were we fo cautious in all cafes,
Small gain would rife from greater places.
The manger now had all its measure;
He heard the grinding teeth with pleasure :
When all at once confufion rung;
They fnorted, juftled, bit, and flung.
A Pack-horfe turn'd his head afide,
Foaming, his eye-balls fwell'd with pride.
Good gods! (fays he) how hard's my lot!
Is then my high descent forgot?
Reduc'd to drudg'ry and disgrace,
(A life unworthy of my race)
Muft I too bear the vile attacks
Of ragged fcrubs, and vulgar hacks?
See fcurvy Roan, that brute ill-bred,
Dares from the manger thrust my
head!
Shall I, who boast a noble line,
On offals of thefe creatures dine?
Kick'd by old Baal! fo mean a foe!
My honour fuffers by the blow.
Newmarket fpeaks my grandfire's fame,
All jockeys ftill revere his name:
There yearly are his triumphs told,
There all his mafly plates enroll'd...

Whene'er

Whene'er led forth upon the plain,
You saw him with a liv'ry train;
Returning too with laurels crown'd,
You heard the drums and trumpets found.
Let it then, Sir, be understood,
Refpect's my due, for I have blood.
Vain-glorious fool (the Carrier cry'd).
Refpect was never paid to pride.
Know, 'twas thy giddy wilful heart
Reduc'd thee to this flavish part.
Did not thy headftrong youth difdain
To learn the conduct of the rein?
Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit,
In vicious frolics fancy fpirit.
What is't to me by whom begot?
Thou reftiff, pert, conceited fot.
Your fires I reverence; 'tis their due :
But worthlefs fool, what's that to you?
Ak all the Carriers on the road,
They'll fay, thy keeping's ill beftow'd.
Then vaunt no more thy noble race,
That neither mends thy ftrength or pace.
What profits me thy boaft of blood?
An afs hath more intrinfic good.
By outward fhew let's not be cheated:
An afs fhould like an afs be treated.

The YOUTH and the PHILOSOPHER.

A

A FABLE.

[Whitehead.]

Whom Plato's philofophic care
Had form'd for virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,
Would often boat his matchlefs skill,
To curb the fteed and guide the wheel.
And as he pafs'd the gazing throng
With graceful eafe, and fmack'd the thong,

The