"Hold," cry'd the Clown, with passion heated, "Shall kites and men alike be treated? When Heaven the world with creatures stor'd, Man was ordain'd their sovereign lord."

"Thus tyrants boast," the Sage reply'd, "Whose murders spring from power and pride. Own then this manlike kite is slain, Thy greater luxury to sustain ; For petty rogues submit to Fate, That great ones may enjoy their state.""

FABLE XXXVII.

THE FARMER'S WIFE AND THE RAVEN. "WHY are those tears? why droops your head? Is then your other husband dead?

Or does a worse disgrace betide?
Hath no one since his death apply'd?"
"Alas! you know the cause too well;
The salt is spilt, to me it fell;
Then, to contribute to my loss,
My knife and fork were laid across;
On Friday too! the day I dread !
Would I were safe at home in bed!
Last night (I vow to Heaven 'tis true)
Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.
Next post some fatal news shall tell :
God send my Cornish friends be well!

"Unhappy Widow, cease thy tears,
Nor feel affliction in thy fears;
Let not thy stomach be suspended;
Eat now, and weep when dinner's ended;
And, when the butler clears the table,
For thy desert I'll read my Fable."

Betwixt her swagging panniers' load
A Farmer's Wife to market rode,
And, jogging on, with thoughtful care,
Summ'd up the profits of her ware ;
When, starting from her silver dream,
Thus far and wide was heard her scream.
"That Raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak!)
Bodes me no good." No more she said,

When poor blind Ball, with stumbling tread,
Fell prone; o'erturned the pannier lay,

And her mash'd eggs bestrow'd the way.
She, sprawling in the yellow road,

Each little speck and blemish find;
To our own stronger errours blind.

A Turkey, tir'd of common food,
Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;
Behind her ran an infant train,
Collecting here and there a grain.
"Draw near, my birds! the mother cries,
This hill delicious fare supplies;
Behold the busy negroe race,

See millions blacken all the place!
Fear not; like me, with freedom eat;
An Ant is most delightful meat.

How bless'd, how envy'd, were our life,
Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife ¡
But man, curs'd man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days.
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the savoury chine;
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes on every board,
Sure men for gluttony are curs'd,
Of the seven deadly sins the worst."

An Ant, who climb'd beyond his reach, Thus answer'd from the neighbouring beech: "Ere you remark another's sin,

Bid thy own conscience look within;
Control thy more voracious bill,

Nor for a breakfast nations kill."

FABLE XXXIX.

THE FATHER AND JUPITER.

THE Man to Jove his suit preferr'd; He begg'd a wife: his prayer was heard. Jove wonder'd at his bold addressing; For how precarious is the blessing!

A wife he takes: and now for heirs Again he worries Heaven with prayers. Jove nods assent: two hopeful boys And a fine girl reward his joys.

A murrain take thy whoreson throat!

I knew misfortune in the note."

"Dame," quoth the Raven, "spare your oaths, Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes. But why on me those curses thrown ? Goody, the fault was all your own ;

For, had you laid this brittle ware

On Dun, the old sure footed mare,
Though all the Ravens of the hundred

With croaking had your tongue out-thundered,
Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,

And you, good woman, sav'd your eggs."

FABLE XXXVIII.

THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.

IN other men we faults can spy, And blame the mote that dims their eye, ! Garth's Dispensary.

All Fortune's richest gifts enjoy.
My next with strong ambition fire;
May favour teach him to aspire,
Till he the step of power ascend,
And courtiers to their idol bend!
With every grace, with every charm,
My daughter's perfect features arm.
If Heaven approve, a Father 's bless'd."
Jove smiles, and grants his full request.

The first, a miser at the heart,
Studious of every griping art,
Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain,
And all his life devotes to gain.
He feels no joy, his cares increase,
He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace;
In fancy'd want (a wretch complete)
He starves, and yet he dares not eat.
The next to sudden honours grew;
The thriving art of courts he knew ;
He reach'd the height of power and place,
Then fell the victim of disgrace.

Beauty with early bloom supplies His daughter's cheeks, and points her eyes. The vain coquette each suit disdains, And glories in her lovers' pains. With age she fades, each lover flies; Contemn'd, forlorn, she pines and dies. When Jove the Father's grief survey'd, And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid, Thus spoke the god: "By outward show Men judge of happiness and woe. Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct th' eternal will? Seek virtue; and, of that possest, To Providence resign the rest."

"Brother," the grinning mate replies, In this I grant that man is wise: While good example they pursue, We must allow some praise is due; But, when they strain beyond their guide, I laugh to scorn the mimic pride; For how fantastic is the sight, To meet men always bolt upright, Because we sometimes walk on two! I hate the imitating crew."

FABLE XL.

THE TWO MONKEYS.

THE learned, full of inward pride,
The fops of outward show deride;
The fop, with learning at defiance,
Scoffs at the pedant and the science:
The Don, a formal solemn strutter,
Despises Monsieur's airs and flutter;
While Monsieur mocks the formal fool,
Who looks, and speaks, and walks, by rule.
Britain, a medley of the twain,

As pert as France, as grave as Spain,
In fancy wiser than the rest,
Laughs at them both, of both the jest.
Is not the poet's chiming close
Censur'd by all the sons of prose ?
While bards of quick imagination
Despise the sleepy prose narration.
Men laugh at apes: they men contemn;
For what are we but apes to them?

Two Monkies went to Southwark fair;
No critics had a sourer air:

They forc'd their way through draggled folks,
Who gap'd to catch Jack Pudding's jokes;
Then took their tickets for the show,
And got by chance the foremost row.
To see their grave observing face,
Provok'd a laugh through all the place.
"Brother," says Pug, and turn'd his head,
"The rabble's monstrously ill-bred."

Now through the booth loud hisses ran,
Nor ended till the show began.
The tumbler whirls the flip-flap round,
With somersets he shakes the ground;
The cord beneath the dancer springs;
Aloft in air the vaulter swings;
Distorted now, now prone depends,
Now through his twisted arms ascends;
The crowd, in wonder and delight,

With clapping hands applaud the sight.

With smiles, quoth Pug, "If pranks like these
The giant apes of reason please,
How would they wonder at our arts!
They must adore us for our parts.
High on the twig I've seen you cling,
Play, twist, and turn in airy ring:
How can those clumsy things, like me,
Fly with a bound from tree to tre?
But yet, by this applause, we find
These emulators of our kind

Discern our worth, our parts regard,
Who our mean mimics thus reward"

FABLE XLI.

THE OWL AND THE FARMER,

AN Owl of grave deport and mien,
Who (like the Turk) was seldom seen,
Within a barn had chose his station,
As fit for prey and contemplation:
Upon a beam aloft he sits,

And nods, and seems to think by fits.
So have I seen a man of news
Or Post-boy or Gazette peruse,
Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound,
And fix the fate of Europe round.
Sheaves pil'd on sheaves hid all the floor:
At dawn of morn to view his store
The Farmer came. The hooting guest
His self-importance thus exprest :

"Reason in man is mere pretence:
How weak, how shallow, is his sense!
To treat with scorn the bird of night,
Declares his folly or his spite.
Then, too, how partial is his praise!
The lark's, the linnet's, chirping lays,
To his ill-judging ears, are fine
And nightingales are all divine:
But the more knowing feather'd race
Sce wisdom stamp'd upon my face.
Whene'er to visit light I deign,
What flocks of fowl compose my train!
Like slaves, they crowd my flight behind,
And own me of superior kind."

The Farmer laugh'd, and thus reply'd: "Thou dull important lump of pride, Dar'st thou with that harsh grating tongue Depreciate birds of warbling song? Indulge thy spleen: know men and fowl Regard thee, as thou art, an Owl. Besides, proud blockhead! be not vain Of what thou call'st thy slaves and train; Few follow Wisdom or her rules; Fools in derision follow fools."

L

FABLE XLII.

THE JUGGLERS.

A JUGGLER long through all the town Had rais'd his fortune and renown; You'd think (so far his art transcends) The devil at his fingers' ends.

Vice heard his fame, she read his bill; Convinc'd of his inferior skill, She sought his booth, and from the crowd. Defy'd the man of art aloud.

"Is this then he so fam'd for sleight? Can this slow bungler cheat your sight

Dares he with me dispute the prize? I leave it to impartial eyes."

Provok'd, the Juggler cry'd," "Tis done;
In science I submit to none."

Thus said, the cups and balls he play'd;
By turns this here, that there, convey'd.
The cards, obedient to his words,
Are by a fillip turn'd to birds.
His little boxes change the grain:
Trick after trick deludes the train.

He shakes his bag, he shows all fair;
His fingers spread, and nothing there;
Then bids it rain with showers of gold;
And now his ivory eggs are told;
But, when from thence the hen he draws,
Amaz'd spectators hum applause.

Vice now stept forth, and took the place,
With all the forms of his grimace.

"This magic looking-glass;" she cries, "(There, haud it round) will charm your eyes." Fach eager eye the sight desir'd,

And every man himself admir'd.

Next, to a senator addressing,

"See this bank-note; observe the blessing, Breathe on the bill. Heigh, pass! "Tis gone." Upon his lips a padlock shown.

A second puff the magic broke;
The padlock vanish'd, and he spoke.

Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board,
All full, with heady liquor stor❜d,
By clean conveyance disappear,
And now two bloody swords are there.
A purse she to a thief expos'd;
At once his ready fingers clos'd.
He opes his fist, the treasure's fled;
He sees a halter in its stead.

She bids Ambition hold a wand;
He grasps a hatchet in his hand.

A box of charity she shows.

"Blow here ;" and a church-warden blows.
'Tis vanish'd with conveyance neat,
And on the table smokes a treat.

She shakes the dice, the board she knocks,
And from all pockets fills her box.

She next a meagre rake addrest.
"This picture see; her shape, her breast!
What youth, and what inviting eyes!
Hold her, and have her." With surprise,
His hand expos'd a box of pills,
And a loud laugh proclaim'd his ills.

A counter, in a miser's hand,

Grew twenty guineas at cominand.
She bids his heir the sum retain,
And 'tis a counter now again.

A guinea with her touch you see
Take every shape but Charity;
And not one thing you saw, or drew,
But chang'd from what was first in view.
The Juggler now, in grief of heart,
With this submission own'd her art.

"Can I such matchless sleight withstand!
How practice hath improv'd your hand!
But now and then I cheat the throng;
You every day, and all day long."

FABLE XLIII.

THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.

UPON a time a neighing Steed, Who graz'd among a numerous breed,.

With mutiny had fir'd the train,
And spread dissension through the plain.
On matters that concern'd the state
The Council met in grand debate.
A Colt, whose eye-balls flam'd with ire,
Elate with strength and youthful fire,
In haste stept forth before the rest,
And thus the listening throng addrest.
"Good gods! how abject is our race,
Condemn'd to slavery and disgrace!
Shall we our servitude retain,

Because our sires have borne the chain?
Consider, friends! your strength and might;
"Tis conquest to assert your right.
How cumbrous is the gilded coach!
The pride of man is our reproach.
Were we design'd for daily toil,

To drag the plough share throughthe soil,
To sweat in harness through the road,
To groan beneath the carrier's load?
How feeble are the two-legg'd kind!
What force is in our nerves combin'd!
Shall then our nobler jaws submit
To foam and champ the galling bit?
Shall haughty man my back bestride?
Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?
Forbid it, Heavens! Reject the rein;
Your shame, your infamy, disdain.
Let him the lion first control,
And still the tiger's famish'd growl.
Let us, like them, our freedom claim,
And make him tremble at our name.'

A general nod approv'd the cause,
And all the circle neigh'd applause.
When, lo! with grave and solemn pace,
A Steed advanc'd before the race,
With age and long experience wise;
Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,
And, to the murmurs of the train,
Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain.

"When I had health and strength, like you, The toils of servitude I knew ; Now grateful man rewards my pains, And gives me all these wide domains. At will I crop the year's increase; My latter life is rest and peace. I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains; But doth not be divide the care, Through all the labours of the year? How many thousand structures rise, To fence us from inclement skies! For us he bears the sultry day, And stores up all our winter's hay. He sows, he reaps, the harvest's gain; We share the toil, and share the grain. Since every creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need, Appease your discontented mind, And act the part by Heaven assign'd."

The tumult ceas'd. The Colt submitted, And, like his ancestors, was bitted.

FABLE XLIV.

THE HOUND AND THE HUNTSMAN.

IMPERTINENCE at first is borne

With heedless slight, or smiles of scorn;

Teas'd into wrath, what patience bears The noisy fool who perseveres?

The morning wakes, the Huntsman sounds,
At once rush forth the joyful Hounds;
They seek the wood with eager pace,

Through bush, through brier, explore the chase:
Now scatter'd wide, they try the plain,
And snuff the dewy turf in vain.
What care, what industry, what pains!
What universal silence reigns!

Ringwood, a dog of little fame,
Young, pert, and ignorant of game,
At once displays his babbling throat;
The pack, regardless of the note,
Pursue the scent; with louder strain
He still persists to vex the train.

The Huntsman to the clamour flies, The smacking lash he smartly plies. His ribs all welk'd, with howling tone The puppy thus express'd his moan:

"I know the music of my tongue Long since the pack with envy stung, What will not spite? These bitter smarts I owe to my superior parts."

"When puppies prate," the Huntsman cry'd,
They show both ignorance and pride:
Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise;
For envy is a kind of praise,

Had not thy forward noisy tongue
Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong,
Thon might'st have mingled with the rest,
And ne'er thy foolish nose confest;
But fools, to talking ever prone,
Are sure to make their follies known."

FABLE XLV.

THE POET AND THE ROSE.

I HATE the man who builds his name
On ruins of another's fame.
Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown,
Imagine that they raise their own.
Thus scribblers, covetous of praise,
Think slander can transplant the bays,
Beauties and bards have equal pride,
With both all rivals are decry'd.
Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature,
Must call her sister awkward creature;
For the kind flattery's sure to charm,
When we some other nymph disarm.
As in the cool of early day
A Poet sought the sweets of May,
'The garden's fragrant breath ascends,
And every stalk with odour bends;
A Rose he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd,
Thus singing, as the Muse inspir'd :

"Go, Rose, my Chloe's bosom grace;
How happy shall I prove,
Might I supply that envy'd place
With never fading love!

"There, phenix-like, beneath her eye, Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die.

Know, hapless flower! that thou shalt find
More fragrant Roses there;

I see thy withering head reclin'd
With envy and despair!

One common fate we both must prove;
You die with envy, I with love."

Spare your comparisons," reply'd An angry Rose, who grew beside. "Of all mankind you should not flout us; What can a Poet do without us? In every love-song Roses bloom; We lend you colour and perfume: Does it to Chloe's charms conduce, To found her praise on our abuse? Must we, to flatter her, be made To wither, envy, pine, and fade ?"

FABLE XLVI.

The cur, the HORSE, AND THE SHEPHERD'S DOG,

THE lad of all-sufficient merit

With modesty ne'er damps his spirit;
Presuming on his own deserts,
On all alike his tongue exerts;
His noisy jokes at random throws,
And pertly spatters friend and foes.
In wit and war the bully race
Contribute to their own disgrace:
Too late the forward youth shall find
That jokes are sometimes paid in kind;
Or, if they canker in the breast,
He makes a foe who makes a jest.

A village Cur, of snappish race,
The pertest puppy of the place,
Imagin'd that his treble throat
Was blest with music's sweetest note;
In the mid road he basking lay,
The yelping nuisance of the way;
For not a creature pass'd along,
But had a sample of his song.
Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears;
Away he scowers, assaults his hoof;
Now near him snarls, now barks aloof;
With shrill impertinence attends,
Nor leaves him till the village ends.
It chanc'd, upon his evil day,
A pad came pacing down the way;
The Cur, with never-ceasing tongue,
Upon the passing traveller sprung.
The Horse, from scorn provok'd to ire,
Flung backward; rolling in the mire,
The puppy howl'd, and bleeding lay;
The pad in peace pursu'd his way.

A Shepherd's Dog, who saw the deed,
Detesting the vexatious breed,
Bespoke him thus "When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate;
Thy teasing tongue had judgment try'd,
Thou hadst not like a puppy dy'd."

FABLE XLVII.

THE COURT OF DEATH.

DEATH, on a solemn night of state, In all his pomp of terrour sate: Th' attendants of his gloomy reign, Diseases dire, a ghastly train! Crowd the vast court. With hollow tone, A voice thus thunder'd from the throne: "This night our minister we name, Let every servant speak his claim;

Merit shall bear this ebon wand."

All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand.
Fever, with burning heat possest,
Advanc'd, and for the wand addrest:
"I to the weekly bills appeal,
Let those express my fervent zeal;
On every slight occasion near,
With violence I persevere."

Next Gout appears, with limping pace,
Pleads how he shifts from place to place;
From head to foot how swift he flies,
And every joint and sinew plies;
Still working when he seems supprest,
A most tenacious stubborn guest.

A haggard spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due:
""Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the shape of Love destroy:
My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face,
Prove my pretension to the place."

Stone urg'd his ever-growing force;
And, next, Consumption's meagre corse,
With feeble voice, that scarce was heard,
Broke with short coughs, his suit preferr'd:
"Let none object my lingering way,
I gain, like Fabius, by delay;
Fatigue and weaken every foe
By long attack, secure, though slow."
Plague represents his rapid power,
Who thinn'd a nation in an hour.

All spoke their claim, and hop'd the wand. Now expectation hush'd the band; When thus the monarch from the throne : "Merit was ever modest known. What, no physician speak his right! None here! but fees their toils requite. Let then Intemperance take the wand, Who fills with gold their zealous hand. You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest, (Whom wary men, as foes, detest) Forego your claim; no more pretend; Intemperance is esteem'd a friend; He shares their mirth, their social joys, And as a courted guest destroys. The charge on him must justly fall, Who finds employment for

you

all.'

Indulge thy morn and evening hours;
But let due care regard my flowers:
My tulips are my garden's pride:
What vast expense those beds supply'd !"
The Hog by chance one morning roam'd,
Where with new ale the vessels foam'd:
He munches now the steaming grains,
Now with full swill the liquor drains.
Intoxicating fumes arise;

He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;
Then staggering through the garden scours,
And treads down painted ranks of flowers.
With delving snout he turns the soil,
And cools his palate with the spoil.

The master came, the ruin spy'd;
"Villain! suspend thy rage," he cry'd.
"Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot,
My charge, my only charge, forgot?
What, all my flowers!" No more he said,
But gaz'd, and sigh'd, and hung his head.
The Hog with stuttering speech returns:
Explain, sir, why your anger burns.
See there, untouch'd, your tulips strown,
For I devour'd the roots alone."

At this the Gardener's passion grows; From oaths and threats he fell to blows. The stubborn brute the blows sustains, Assaults his legs, and tears the veins.

"Ah! foolish swain! too late you find That sties were for such friends design'd!" Homeward he limps with painful pace, Reflecting thus on past disgrace: "Who cherishes a brutal mate, Shall mourn the folly soon or late."

FABLE XLIX.

THE MAN AND THE FLEA.

WHETHER on earth, in air, or main, Sure every thing alive is vain!

Does not the hawk all fowls survey,
As destin'd 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,
"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!"
"What dignity's in human nature!"
Says Man, the most conceited creature,
As from a cliff he cast his eye,

And view'd 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,

A