"When (says the Greyhound), I pursue, My game is lost, or caught in view; Beyond my sight the prey 's secure : The Hound is slow, but always sure. And had I his sagacious scent, Jove ne'er had heard my discontent.' The Lion crav'd the Fox's art: The Fox the Lion's force and heart. The Cock implor'd the Pigeon's flight, Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light: The Pigeon strength of wing despis'd, And the Cock's matchless valour priz'd: The Fishes wish'd to graze the plain; The Beasts to skim beneath the main. Thus, envious of another's state,
Each blam'd the partial hand of Fate.
The Bird of Heav'n then cried aloud, 'Jove bids disperse the murm'ring crowd; The god rejects your idle prayers. Would ye, rebellious mutineers, Entirely change your name and nature, And be the very envied creature? What, silent all, and none consent? Be happy then, and learn content! Nor imitate the restless mind, And proud ambition of mankind.'
The Wild Boar and the Ram.
AGAINST an elm a sheep was tied,
The butcher's knife in blood was died:
The patient flock, in silent fright,
From far beheld the horrid sight.
A savage Boar, who near them stood,
Thus mock'd to scorn the fleecy brood:
All cowards should be serv'd like you: See, see! your murd'rer is in view; With purple hands, and reeking knife, He strips the skin yet warm with life: Your quarter'd sires, your bleeding dams, The dying bleat of harmless lambs,
Call for revenge. O stupid race!
The heart that wants revenge is base.'
'I grant,' an ancient Ram replies, We bear no terror in our eyes;
Yet think us not of soul so tame,
Which no repeated wrongs inflame;
Insensible of ev'ry ill,
Because we want thy tusks to kill.
Know, those who violence pursue
Give to themselves the vengeance due;
For in these massacres they find
The two chief plagues that waste mankind.
Our skin supplies the wrangling bar,
It wakes their slumbering sons to war;
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 ev'ry bolt he tries,
In ev'ry creek and corner pries.
Then opes the chest with treasure stor❜d,
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 confin'd,
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 banish'd honour from the mind,
And only left the name behind;
Gold sow'd the world with ev'ry ill;
Gold taught the murd'rer's sword to kill:
'Twas gold instructed coward hearts
In treach'ry's more pernicious arts.
Who can recount the mischiefs o'er!
Virtue resides on earth no more!'
He spoke, and sigh'd. In angry mood,
Plutus, his god, before him stood.
The Miser, trembling, lock'd his chest:
The Vision frown'd, 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 abus'd,
Must I be censur'd, curs'd, accus'd?
Ev'n virtue's self by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade;
And pow'r (when lodg'd 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 ev'ry shocking vice beside;
But when to virtuous hands 'tis giv'n,.
It blesses, like the dews of heav'n:
Like heav'n, it hears the orphan's cries,
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes:
Their crimes on gold shall misers lay,
Who pawn'd their sordid souls for pay?
Let bravoes then, when blood is spilt,
Upbraid the passive sword with guilt.'
The Lion, the Fox, and the Geese.
A LION, tir'd with state affairs,
Quite sick of pomp, and worn with cares,
Resolv'd, remote from noise and strife,
In peace to pass his latter life.
It was proclaim'd; the day was set:
Behold the gen'ral council met.
The Fox was viceroy nam'd. The crowd
To the new regent humbly bow'd.
Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend,
And strive who most should 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 flatt'rer 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 train'd 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,
Harangu'd 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 th' 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 ev'ry petty clerk in place,
To prove his taste and seem polite,
Will feed on Geese both noon and night!"
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 look dislike;
Forbidding airs might thin the place,
The slightest flapa fly can chase.
But who can drive the num'rous 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 listen'd to the first.
As Doris, at her toilet's duty,
Sat meditating on her beauty,
She now was pensive, now was gay,
And loll'd 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.
Her fan in vain defends her charms;
Swift he returns, again alarms;
For by repulse he bolder grew,
Perch'd on her lip, and sipp'd the dew.
She frowns, she frets, 'Good gods!' she cries,
'Protect me from these teasing flies:
Of all the plagues that Heaven hath sent,
A Wasp is most impertinent.'
The hoy'ring insect thus complain'd:
'Am I then slighted, scorn'd, disdain'd?
Can such offence your anger wake;
'Twas beauty caus'd 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 shews the sugar on his lips,
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