Thought they were folks that loft their
And afk'd them civilly to stay;
Told 'em, for fupper or for bed

They might go on and be worfe fped.—
So faid, fo done; the gods confent ;
All three into the parlour went :
They compliment, they fit, they chat,
Fight o'er the wars, reform the state;
A thoufand knotty points they clear,
Till fupper and my wife appear.

way,

Jove made his leg, and kifs'd the dame;
Obfequious Hermes did the fame.
Jove kifs'd the farmer's wife, you say!
He did-but in an honeft

way:

Oh not with half that warmth and life
With which he kiss'd Amphytryon's wife.-
Well, then, things handfomely were serv'd;
My mittrefs for the ftrangers carv'd.
How ftrong the beer, how good the meat,
How loud they laughed, how much they eat,
In epic fumptuous would appear,
Yet fhall be pafs'd in filence here;
For I fhould grieve to have it faid
That, by a fine defcription led,
I made my epifode too long,

Or tir'd my friend to grace my fong.
The grace-cup ferv'd, the cloth away,
Jove thought it time to fhew his play.
Landlord and landlady, he cry'd,

Folly and jefting laid afide,

That ye thus hofpitably live,

And ftrangers with good cheer receive,
Is mighty grateful to your betters

And make e'en gods themselves your debtors.
To give this thefis plainer proof,
You have to-night beneath your roof
A pair of gods: (nay, never wonder.)
This youth can fly and I can thunder.
I'm Jupiter, and he Mercurius,

My page, my fon indeed, but spurious.

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Form, then, three wishes, you and Madam,
And, fure as you already had 'em,

The things defir'd in half an hour

Shall all be here and in your pow'r.

Thank ye, great Gods, the woman fays; Oh! may your altars ever blaze !

A ladle for our filver difh

Is what I want, is what I wish.

A ladle ! cries the man, a ladle!

my Mufe

'Odzooks, Corisca, you have pray'd ill!
What should be great you turn to farce,
I wish the ladle in your a-.
With equal grief and shame
The sequel of the tale pursues.
The ladle fell into the room,
And stuck in old Corifca's bum.
Our couple weep two wishes paft,
And kindly join to form the laft;
To eafe the woman's awkward pain,
And get the ladle out again.

MORAL.

THIS commoner has worth and parts,
Is prais'd for arms, or lov'd for arts;
His head aches for a coronet,

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And who is blefs'd that is not great?

Some fenfe and more eftate kind Heav'n

To this well-lotted peer has giv'n :

What then? he must have rule and sway,

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And dares not touch the hoarded fum;
The fickly dotard wants a wife
To draw off his laft dregs of life.

Against our peace we arm our will;
Amidft our plenty fomething still
For horfes, houfes, pictures, planting,
To thee, to me, to him, is wanting:
That cruel fomething unpoffeft,
Corrodes, and leavens all the reft:

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That fomething if we could obtain
Would foon create a future pain;
And to the coffin from the cradle

'Tis all a wifh and all a Ladle.

TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD.
A TALE.

NCE on a time, in funfhine weather,
Falehood and Truth walk'd out together,

The neighb'ring woods and lawns to view,
As oppofites will sometimes do :

Thro' many a blooming mead they past,
And at a brook arriv'd at laft:

The purling ftream, the margin green,
With flow'rs bedeck'd, a vernal scene,
Invited each itin'rant maid

To reft a while beneath the shade;
Under a fpreading beach they fat,
And pafs'd the time with female chat;
Whilft each her character maintain'd
One spoke her thoughts, the other feign'd.
At length, quoth Falfehood, Sifter Truth,
For fo the call'd her from her youth,
What if, to shun yon fultry beam,
We bathe in this delightful stream,
The bottom fmooth, the water clear,
And there's no prying fhepherd near?
With all my heart, the nymph reply'd,
And threw her fnowy robes afide,
Stripp'd herself naked to the skin,
And with a fpring leapt headlong in.
Falfehood more leifurely undreft,
And laying by her tawdry veft,
Trick'd herfelf out in Truth's array,
And cross the meadows tript away.

From this curft hour the fraudful dame

Of facred Truth ufurps the name,

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And with a vile perfidious mind
Roams far and near to cheat mankind;

Falfe fighs fuborns, and artful tears,
And ftarts with vain pretended fears,
In vifits ftill appears most wise,

And rolls at church her faint-like eyes;
Talks very much, plays idle tricks,

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While rifing ftock her confcience pricks;

When being, poor thing, extremely gravell'd,
She fecrets ope'd, and all unraveli’d.

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But on the will, and fecrets tell

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Of John and Joan, and Ned and Nell,
Reviling ev'ry one she knows,
As fancy leads, beneath the rofe.
Her tongue fo voluble and kind
It always runs before her mind;
As times do ferve the flily pleads,
And copious tears ftill fhew her needs,
With promifes as thick as weeds—
Speaks pro and con, is wondrous civil,
To-day a faint, to-morrow devil.

Poor Truth fhe ftript, as has been said,
And naked left the lovely maid,
Who, fcorning from her caufe to wince,
gone ftark naked ever fince,

Has

And ever naked will appear,

Belov'd by all who Truth revere.

THE MICE.

A TALE.

TO MR. ADRIAN DRIFT.

TWO mice, dear boy, of genteel fashion,
And, what is more, good education,

Frolic and gay, in infant years

Equally fhar'd their parents' cares.

The fire of thefe two babes (poor creature)
Paid his laft debt to human nature;

A wealthy widow left behind,

Four babes, three male, one female kind.

The fire being under ground, and bury'd,

'Twas thought his fpoufe would foon have marry'd;
Matches propos'd, and num'rous fuitors,
Moft tender husbands, careful tutors,

She modeftly refus'd, and fhew'd
She'd be a mother to her brood.

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Mother, dear mother, that endearing thought 15 Has thousand and ten thousand fancies brought. Tell me, oh! tell me (thou art now above) How to defcribe thy true maternal love, Thy early pangs, thy growing anxious cares, Thy flatt'ring hopes, thy fervent pious prayers, Thy doleful days, and melancholy nights, Cloifter'd from common joys, and just delights: How didft thou conftantly in private mourn, And wash with daily tears thy spouse's urn! How it employ'd your thoughts and lucid time, That your young offspring might to honour climb; How your first care, by num'rous griefs oppreft, Under the burden funk, and went to reft; How your dear darling, by confumption's wafte, Breath'd her laft piety into your breast; How you, alas! tir'd with your pilgrimage, Bow'd down your head, and dy'd in good old age. Tho' not infpir'd, ob! may I never be

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Forgetful of my pedigree or thee :

Ungrateful howfoe'er, may'nt I forget

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To pay this fmall yet tributary debt,

And when we meet at God's tribunal thronę,

Own me, I pray thee, for a pious fon.
But why all this? Is this your fable?.
Believe me, Matt, it seems a bauble;
If
you
will let me know th' intent on't,
Go to your mice, and make an end on't.
Well then, dear brother-

As fure as Hudi's sword could swaddle,
Two mice were brought up in one cradle;
Well bred, I think, of equal port,
Que for the gown, one for the court.

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