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This kite, by daily rapine fed,

Fell prone; o'erturn'd the panniers lay, My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread,

And 'her mash'd eggs bestrew'd the way. At length his forfeit life hath paid;

She, sprawling in the yellow road, See on the wall his wings display'd ; Raild, swore, and curs’d: Thou croaking toad, Here naild, a terror to his kind,

A murrain take thy whoreson throat! My fowls shall future safety find;

I knew misfortune in the note. My yard the thriving poultry feed,

Dame, quoth the Raven, spare your paths, And my barn's refuse fat the breed.

Unclench your fist,

wipe your clothes. Friend, says the Sage, the doom is wise; But why on me those curses thrown? For public good the murd'rer dies.

Goody, the fault was all your own; But if these tyrants of the air

For had you laid this britile ware Demand a sentence so severe;

On Dun, the old sure-footed mare, Think how the glutton man devours; Though all the Ravens of the hundred What bloody feasts regale his hours !

With croaking had your tongue out-thunder'd, 0, impudence of pow'r and might,

Sure-footed Dun had kept his legs,
Thus to condemn a hawk or kite,

And you, good woman, sav'd your eggs.
When thou perhaps, carniv'rous sinner,
Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!

$ 115.

The Turkey and the

Hold ! cried the Clown, with passion heated,
Shall kites and men alike be treated ?

In other men we faults can spy,
When Heaven the world with creatures stor’d, And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Man was ordain'd their sov’reign lord. Each little speck and blemish find;

Thus tyrants boast, the sage replied, To our own stronger errors blind.
Whose murders spring from power and pride. A Turkey, tir'd of common food,
Own then this manlike kite is slain

Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;
Thy greater lux’ry to sustain ;

Behind her ran her infant train, For *“ Petty rogues submit to fate,

Collecting here and there a grain. That great ones may enjoy their state.” Draw near, my birds, the mother cries,

This hill delicious fare supplies; $ 114. FABLE XXXVII. The Farmer's Wife See, millions blacken all the place!

Behold, the busy Negro race: and the Raven.

Fear not.

Like me with freedom eat;
Why are those tears? why droops your head? An Ant is most delightful meat.
Is then your other husband dead

How bless’d, how envied were our life,
Or does a worse disgrace betide;

Could we but ’scape the poult'rer's knife! Hath no one since his death applied ?

But man, curs’d man! on Turkey preys, Alas! you know the cause too well :

And Christmas shortens all our days; The salt is spilt, to me fell.

Sometimes with oysters we combine, Then to contribute to my loss,

Sometimes assist the sav'ry chine. My knife and fork were laid across ;

From the low peasant to the lord, On Friday too! the day I dread!

The Turkey smokes on ev'ry board. Would I were safe at home in bed !

Sure men for gluttony are curs'd, Last night (I vow to heaven 'tis true)

Of the seven deadly sins the worst. Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.

An Ant, who climb'd beyond his reach, Next post some fatal news shall tell;

Thus answer'd from the neighb'ring beech: God send my Cornish friends be well!

you remark another's sin, Unhappy widow, cease thy tears,

Bid thy own conscience look within ; Nor feel affliction in thy fears :

Control thy more voracious bill,
Let not thy stomach be suspended ;

Nor for a breakfast nations kill.
Eat now, and weep when dinner 's ended!
And when the butler clears the table,

$ 116. FABLE XXXIX. The Father and, For thy desert I'll read my fable.

Jupiter. Betwixt her swagging panniers' load The Man to Jove his suit preferr’d: A farmer's wife to market rode,

He begg'd a wife; his pray'r was heard. And jogging on, with thoughtful care,

Jove wonder'd at his bold addressing: Summ'd up the profits of her ware;

For how precarious is the blessing! When, starting from her silver dream,

A wife he takes. And now for heirs Thus far and wide was heard her scream : Again he worries Heaven with

prayers. That Raven on yon left-hand oak

Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boys (Curse on his ill-betiding croak !)

And a fine girl reward his joys. Bodes me no good. No more she said,

No more solicitous he grew, When poor blind Ball, with stumbling tread,

And set their future lives in view;

He saw that all respect and duty • Garth's Dispensary.

Were paid to wealth, to pow's, and beauty.





Once more he cries, Accept my pray'r; To see their grare, observing face, Make my lov'd progeny thy care.

Provok'd a laugh through all the place. Let my first hope, my fav'rite boy,

Brother, says Pug, and turn'd his head, All fortune's richest gifts enjoy.

The rabble's monstrously ill-bred ! My next with strong ambition fire:

Now through the booth loud hisses ran ; May favor teach him to aspire,

Nor ended till the show began. Till he the step of pow'r ascend,

The tumbler whirls the flip-flap round, And courtiers to their idol bend!

With somersets he shakes the ground; With ev'ry grace, with ev'ry charm,

The cord beneath the dancer springs; My daughter's perfect features arm.

Aloft in air the vaulter swings; If Heaven approve, a Father 's blest :

Distorted now, now prone depends, Jove smiles, and grants his full request. Now through his twisted arm ascends : The first, a miser at the heart,

The crowd in wonder and delight, Studious of ev'ry griping art,

With clapping hands applaud the sight. Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain, With smiles, quoth Pug, If pranks like these And all his life devotes to gain.

The giant apes of reason please, He feels no joy, his cares increase,


would they wonder at our arts ! He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace;

They must adore us for our parts.
In fancied want (a wretch complete !) High on the twig I've seen you cling,
He starves, and yet he dares not eat.

Play, twist, and turn in airy ring;
The next to sudden honors grew :

How can those clumsy things, like me, The thriving art of courts he knew :

Fly with a bound from tree to tree? He reach'd the height of pow'r and place, But yet, by this applause we find Then fell the viction of disgrace.

These emulators of our kind Beauty with early bloom supplies

Discern our worth, our parts regard, His daughter's cheek, and points her eyes. Who our mean mimics thus reward. The vain coquette each suit disdains,

Brother, the grinning mate replies, And glories in her lovers' pains.

In this I grant that man is wise. With age she fades, each lover Aies,

While good example they pursue,
Contemn'd, forlorn, she pines and dies. We must allow some praise is due ;

When Jove the Father's grief survey'd, But when they strain beyond their guide,
And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid, I laugh to scorn the mimic pride;
Thus spoke the god : By outward show For how fantastic is the sight,
Men judge of happiness and woc :

To meet men always bolt upright,
Shall ignorance of good and ill

Because we sometimes walk on two!
Dare to direct th' Eternal Will?

I hate the imitating crew.
Seek virtue: and, of that possest,
To Providence resign the rest.

§ 118. FABLE XLI. The Owl and the Farmer. § 117. FABLE XL. The Two Monkeys.

An Owl of grave deport and mien,

Who (like the Turk) was seldom seen, The learned, full of inward pride,

Within a barn had chose his station, The Fops of outward show deride :

As fit for prey and contemplation. The Fop, with learning at defiance,

Upon a beam aloft he sits, Scoffs ai the pedant, and the science:

And nods, and seems to think, by fits. The Don, a formal, solemn strutter,

So have I seen a man of news Despises Monsiear's airs and flutter;

Or Post-boy or Gazette peruse; While Monsieur mocks the formal fool, Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound, Who looks, and speaks, and walks by rule. And fix the fate of Europe round. Britain, a medley of the twain,

Sheaves pil'd on sheaves hid all the floor : As pert as France, as grave as Spain,

At dawn of morn, to view his store,
In fancy wiser than the rest,

The Farmer came. The hooting guest
Laughs at them both, of both the jest. ris self-importance thus express'd :
Is not the poet's chiming close

Reason in man is mere pretence:
Censur'd by all the sons of prose?

How weak, how shallow is his sense! While bards of quick imagination

To treat with scorn the Bird of Night,
Despise the sleepy prose narration.

Declares his folly or his spite.
Men laugh at apes, they men contemn, Then too, how partial is his praise !
For what are we but apes to them?

The lark's, the linnet's chirping lays,
Two Mookeys went to Southwark fair, To his ill-judging ears are fine,
No critics had a sourer air:

And nightingales are all divine.
They forc'd their way through draggled folks, But the more knowing feather'd race
Who yap'd to catch jack-pudding's jokes ; See wisdom stamp'd upon my face.
Then cook their tickets for the show,

M'hene'er to visit lighi l deign, And got by chance the foremost row.

What flocks of fowl compose my train !


Like slaves, they crowd my flight behind, 'Tis vanish'd with conveyance neat,
And own me of superior kind.

And on the table smokes a treat.
The Farmer laugh'd, and thus replied : She shakes the dice, the board she knocks,
Thou dull important lump of pride,

And from all pockets fills her box. Dar’st thou, with that harsh grating tongue, She next a ineagre rake address'd : Depreciate birds of warbling song?

This picture see; her shape, her breast ! Indulge thy spleen. Know, men and fowl What youth, and what inviting eyes : Regard thee as thou art, an Owl.

Hold her, and have her. With surprise, Besides, proud blockhead, be not vain His hand expos'd a box of pills, Of what thou call'st thy slaves and train. And a loud laugh proclaim'd his iils. Few follow wisdom, or her rules;

A counter in a miser's hand Fools in derision follow fools.

Grew twenty guincas at cominand.

She bids his heir the sum retain, $ 119. FABLE XLII. The Jugglers.

And 'tis a counter now again.
A JUGGLER long through all the town A guinea with her touch you see
Had rais'd his fortune and renown:

Take ev'ry shape, but Charity:
You'd think (so far his art transcends)

And not one thing you saw, or drew, The devil at his fingers' ends.

But chang'd from what was first in view. Vice heard his fame, she read his bill; The Juggler now, in grief of heart, Convinc'd of his inferior skill,

With this submission owu'd her art: She sought his booth, and from the crowd Can I such matchless sleight withstand? Defied the man of art aloud:

How practise hath improv'd your hand!
Is this then he so fam'd for sleight?

But now and then I cheat the throng;
Can this slow bungler cheat your sight? You ev'ry day, and all day long.
Dares he with me dispute the prize?
I leave it to impartial eyes.

§ 120. FABLE XLIII. The Council of Horse. Provok'd, the Juggler cried, 'Tis done; Upon a time, a neighing Steed, In science 1 submit to none.

Who graz'd among a num'rous breed, Thus said, the cups and balls he play'd, With mutiny had fir'd the train, By turns this here, that there, convey'd ; And spread dissension through the plain. The cards, obedient to his words,

On matters that concern'd the state Are by a fillip turn'd to birds.

The council met in grand debate. His little boxes change the grain ;

A Colt, whose eye-balls Aam'd with ire, Trick after trick deludes the train.

Elate with strength and youthful fire, He shakes his bag, he shows all fair ;

In baste stepp'd forth before the rest, His fingers spread, and nothing there ; And thus the list’ning throng address'd : Then bids it rain with show'rs of gold :

Good gods! how abject is our race, And now his iv'ry eggs are told ;

Condemn’d to slav'ry and disgrace! But when from thence the hen he draws, Shall we our servitude retain, Amaz'd spectators hum applause.

Because our sires have borne the chain? Vice now stepp'd forth, and took the place Consider, friends, your strength and might; With all the forms of his grimace.

'Tis conquest to assert your right. This magic looking-glass she cries,

How cumbrous is the gilded coach! (There, hand it round) will charm your eyes. The pride of man is our reproach. Each eager eye the sight desir’d,

Were we design'd for daily toil, And ev'ry man hiniself admir'd.

To drag the plough-share through the soil, Next, to a senator addressing,

To sweat in harness through the road, See this bank-note; observe the blessing : To groan beneath the carrier's load? Breathe on the bill. Heigh, pass ! 'tis gone; How feeble are the two-legg'd kind! Upon his lips a padlock shone.

What force is in our nerves combin'd ! A second puff the magic broke ;

Shall then our nobler jaws submit The padlock vanish'd, and he spoke.

To foam and champ the galling bit? Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board, Shall haughty mau my back bestride? All full, with heady liquor stord,

Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?
By clean conveyance disappear;

Forbid it, Heavens ! Reject the rein;
And now, two bloody swords are there. Your shame, your infamy disdain.
A purse she to a thief expos’d;

Let him the lion first control,
At once his ready fingers clos'd.

And still the tiger’s famish'd grow!. He opes his fist, the treasure's fled;

Let us, like them, our freedom claim, He sees a halter in its stead.

And make him tremble at our name. She bids ambition hold a wand;

A gen'ral nod approv'd the cause, He grasps a hatchet in his hand.

And all the circle neigh'd applanse. A box of charity she shows :

When lo! with yrave and solemn pace, Blow here; and a churchwarden blows. A Steed advanc'd before the race;


$ 122.



With age and long experience wise,

But fools, to talking ever prone, Around he cast his thoughtful eyes;

Are sure to make their follies known. And to the murmurs of ihe train,

The Poet and the Rose. Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain : When I had health and strength like you,

I HATE the man who builds his name The toils of servitude I knew;

On ruins of another's fame. Now grateful man rewards my pains,

Thus prudes by characters o'erthrown And gives me all these wide domains.

Imagine that they raise their own. At will I crop the year's increase ;

Thus scribblers, covetous of praise, My latter life is rest and peace.

Think slander can transplant the bays. I grant, to man we lend our pains,

Beauties and bards have equal pride : And aid him to correct the plains :

With both all rivals are decried. But doth not he divide the care,

Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature, Through all the labors of the year?

Must call her sister awkward creature; How many thousand structures rise,

For the kind Aattery's sure to charm, To fence us from inclement skies!

When we some other nymph disarm. For us he bears the sultry day,

As in the cool of early day. And stores up all our winter's hay.

A Poet sought the sweets of May, He sows, he reaps the harvest's grain; The garden's fragant breath ascends, We share the toil, and share the gain.

And ev'ry stalk with odour bends. Since ev'ry creature was decreed

A Rose he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd, To aid each other's mutual need,

Thus singing, as the Muse inspir'd : Appease your discontented mind,

Go, Rose, my Chloe's bosom grace: And act the part by Heaven assign’d.

How happy should I prove, The tumult ceas'd. The Colt submitted ; Might I supply that envied place And, like his ancestors, was bitted.

With never-fading love!

There, Phænix-like, beneath her eye, $ 121.

The Hound and the

Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die !

Know, hapless flow's, that thou shalt find

More fragrant roses there; IMPERTINENCE at first is borne

I see thy with’ring head reclin'd With heedless slight, or smiles of scorn; With envy and despair ! Teas'd into wrath, what patience bears

One common fate we both must prove; The noisy fool who perseveres ?

You die with envy, I with love.
The morning wakes, the Huntsman sounds, Spare your comparisons, replied
At once rush forth the joyful hounds.

An angry Rose who grew beside:
They seek the wood with eager pace; Of all mankind you should not fout us ;
Through bush, through brier, explore the chase. What can a Poet do without us?
Now, scatter'd wide, they try the plain, In ev'ry love-song roses bloom ;
And snuff the dewy turf in vain.

We lend you color and perfume.
What care, what industry, what pains ! Does it to Chloe's charms conduce,
What universal silence reigns !

To found her praise on our abuse ? Ringwood, a dog of little fame,

Must we, to flatter her, be made
Young, pert, and ignorant of game,

To wither, envy, pine, and fade?
At once displays his babbling throat;
The pack, regardless of the note,

§ 123. FABLE XLVI. The Cur, the Horse, and Pursue the scent; with louder strain

the Shepherd's Dog. He still persists to vex the train. The Huntsman to the clamor flies;

The lad of all-sufficient merit
The smacking lash he smarıly plies.

With modesty ne'er damps his spirit;
His ribs all whelk’d, with howling tone Presuming on his own deserts,
The Puppy thus express'd his moan:

On all alike his tongue exerts ;
I know the music of my tongue

His noisy jokes at random throws,
Long since the pack with envy, stung. And pertly spatters friends and foes.
What will not spite? These bitter smarts In wit and war the bully race
I owe to my superior parts.

Contribute to their own disgrace.
When puppies prate, the Huntsman cried, Too late the forward youth shall find
They show both ignorance and pride;

That jokes are sometimes paid in kind, Fools may our scorn, not envy raise ;

Or, if they canker in the breast, For envy is a kind of praise.

He makes a foe who makes a jest. Had not thy forward noisy tongue

A village-cur, of snappish race, Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong,

The pertest puppy of the place, Thou mightst have mingled with the rest, Imagin'd that his treble throat And ne'er thy foolish noise confess'd.

Was blest with music's sweetest note ;

In the mid road he basking lay,

All spoke their claim, and hop'd the wand. The yelping nuisance of the way;

Now expectation hush'd the band, For not a creature pass'd along,

When thus the monarch from the throne : But had a sample of his song.

Merit was ever modest known. Soon as the trotting steed he hears,

What, no Physician speaks his right? He starts, he cocks his dapper ears ;

None here! but fees their toils requite. Away he scours, assaults his hoof;

Let then Intemp'rance take the wand, Now near him snarls, now barks aloof; Who fills with gold their zealous hand. With shrill impertinence attends ;

You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest Nor leaves him till the village ends.

(Whom wary men as foes detest), It chanc'd, upon his evil day,

Forego your claim; no more pretend ; A Pad came pacing down the way:

Intemp'rance is esteem'd a friend; The cur, with never-ceasing tongue,

He shares their mirth, their social joys, Upon the passing trav'ller sprung.

And as a courted guest destroys. The Horse, from scorn provok'd to ire, The charge on him must

justly fall, Flung backward : rolling in the mire Who finds employment for you all.

. The Puppy howld, and bleeding lay; The Pad in peace pursued his way.

§ 125. FABLE XLVIII. The Gardoner and the Hog. A Shepherd's Dog, who saw the deed, A GARD'ner of peculiar taste Detesting the vexatious breed,

On a young Hog his favor plac'd, Bespoke him thus: When coxcombs prate, Who fed not with the common herd; They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate; His tray was to the hall preferr'd. Thy teasing tongue had judgement tied, He wallow'd underneath the board, Thou had'st not like a Puppy died.

Or in his master's chamber snor'd;

Who fondly strok'd him ev'ry day, $ 124. PABLE XLVII. The Court of Death. And taught him all the puppy's play. DEATH, on a solemn night of state,

Where'er he went, the grunting friend In all his pomp of terror sate :

Ne'er fail'd his pleasure to attend. Th' attendants of his gloomy reign,

As on a time the loving pair Diseases dire, a ghastly train!

Walk'd forth to tend the garden's care, Crowd the vast Court. With hollow tone, The Master thus address'd the Swine: A voice thus thunder'd from the throne;

My house, my garden, all is thine; This night our minister we name,

On turnips feast whene'er you please, Let ev'ry servant speak his claim;

And riot in my beans and pease; Merit shall bear this ebon wand.

If the potatoe's taste delights,
All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand. Or the red carrot's sweet invites,
Fever, with burning heat possest,

Indulge thy morn and ev'ning hours,
Advanc'd, and for the wand address'd : But let due care regard my flow'rs.
I to the weekly bills appeal,

My tulips are my garden's pride,
Let those express my fervent zeal :

What vast expence those beds supplied ! On ev'ry slight occasion near,

The Hog, by chance, one morning roam'd With violence I persevere.

Where with new ale the vessels foam'd: Next Gout appears, with limping pace, He munches now the streaming grains ; Pleads how he shifts from place to place; Now with full swill the liquor drains. From head to foot how swift he flies,

Intoxicating fumes arise; And ev'ry joint and sinew plies ;

He reels, he rolls his winking eyes ; Still working when he seems supprest- Then, staggʻring, through the garden scours, A most tenacious stubborn guest.

And treads down painted ranks of fow'rs. A haggard Spectre from the crew

With delving snout he turns the soil, Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due : And cools his palate with the spoil. Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,

The Master came, the ruin spied; And in the shape of Love destroy:

Villain, suspend thy rage! he cried : My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face, Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot ! Prove my pretention to the place.

My charge, my only charge forgot? Stone urg'd his ever-growing force ;

What, all my

Aow'rs! No more he said, And next

Consumption's meagre corse, But gaz’d, and sigh’d, and hung his head. With feeble voice that scarce was heard, The Hog with stutt'ring speech returns, Broke with short coughs, his suit preferr’d: Explain, Sir, why your anger burns ; Let none object my ling ring way,

See there, untouch'd, your tulips strown, I gain, like Fabius, by delay;

For I devour'd the roots alone. Fatigue and weaken ev'ry foc

At this the Gard'ner's passion grows; By long attack-secure, though slow.

From oaths and threats he fell to blows. Plague represents his rapid pow't,

The stubborn brute the blows sustains, Who thinn'd a nation in an hour.

Assaults his leg, and tears his veins.

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