Pr'ythee, my happy friend! impart
Thy wondrous, cunning, thriving art."
"Why, faith, I'll tell thee as a friend,
But first thy surly manners mend;
Be complaisant, obliging, kind,
And leave the wolf for once behind."
The wolf, whose mouth began to water,
With joy and rapture gallop'd after,
When thus the dog : "At bed and board,
I share the plenty of my lord;
From every guest I claim a fee,
Who court my lord by bribing me :
In mirth I revel all the day,
And many a game at romps I play :
I fetch and carry, leap o'er sticks,
And twenty such diverting tricks."
""Tis pretty, faith," the wolf reply'd,
And on his neck the collar spy'd:
He starts, and without more ado
He bids the abject wretch adieu :
"Enjoy your dainties, friend; to me
The noblest feast is liberty.

The famish'd wolf upon these desert plains,
Is happier than a fawning cur in chains.

MORAL.

Thus bravely spoke the nurse of ancient Rome,
Thus the starv'd Swiss, and hungry Grisons roam,
On barren hills, clad with eternal snow,
And look with scorn on the prim slaves below.
Thus Cato scap'd by death the tyrant's chains,
And walks unshackled in th' Elysian plains.
Thus, Britons, thus, your great forefathers stood
For liberty, and fought in seas of blood.
To barren rocks, and gloomy woods confin'd,
Their virtues by necessity refin'd,

Nor cold, nor want, nor death, could shake their steady mind.

No saucy Druid then durst cry alond,

And with his slavish cant debauch the crowd:
No passive legions in a scoundrel's cause
Pillage a city, and affront the laws.
The state was quiet, happy, and serene,
For Boadicea was the Britons' queen;
Her subjects their just liberties maintain'd,
And in her people's hearts the happy monarch
reign'd.

The parson of the place, good man!
Whose kind and charitable heart
In human ills still bore a part,
Thrice shook his head, and thus began
"Neighbours and friends, refer to me

This doughty matter in dispute, I'll soon decide th' important suit, And finish all without a fee.

"Give me the oyster then-'tis well-" He opens it, and at one sup Gulps the contested trifle up, And smiling gives to each a shell. "Henceforth let foolish discord cease,

Your oyster's good as e'er was eat; I thank you for my dainty treat, God bless you both, and live in peace.

THE FROG'S CHOICE.

"Ω πόποι, στον δη να Θεός βοίλοι απισωνίας.

Εξ ημέων γαρ φασι κακ' εμμεναι' οι δε και αυτός
Σφησιν ατασθαλίησιν υπέρ μόρον αλγε σχεση

In a wild state of nature, long

The frogs at random liv'd,

The weak a prey unto the strong,
With anarchy oppress'd and griev'd.

At length the lawless rout,

Taught by their sufferings, grew devout :
An embassy to Jove they sent,
And begg'd his highness would bestow
Some settled form of government,
A king to rule the fens below.
Jove, smiling, grants their odd request,
A king th' indulgent power bestow'd,
(Such as might suit their genius best)

A beam of a prodigious size,

With all its cumberous load,
Came tumbling from the skies.
The waters dash against the shore,
The hollow caverns roar ;

The rocks return the dreadful sound,
Convulsions shake the ground.
The multitude with horrour fled,
And in his oozy bed
Each skulking coward hid his head.

When all is now grown calm again,
And smoothly glides the liquid plain,
A frog more resolute and bold,
Peeping with caution from his hold;
Recover'd from his first surprize,
As o'er the wave his head he popt,
He saw-but scarce believ'd his eyes,
On the same bank where first he dropt,
Th' imperial lubber lies,

Stretch'd at his ease, careless, content:
"Is this the monarch Jove has sent,"
(Said he)" our warlike troops to lead?
Ay! 'tis a glorious prince indeed!
By such an active general led,
The routed mice our arms shall dread,

Subdued shall quit their claim:
Old Homer shall recant his lays,

For us new trophies raise,

Sing our victorious arms, and justify our fame."
Then laughing impudently loud,
He soon alarm'd the dastard crowd.
The croaking nations with contempt
Behold the worthless indolent,

On wings of winds, swift scandal flies,

Libels, lampoons, and lyes,
Hoarse treasons, tuneless blasphemies.

With active leap at last upon his back they stride,
And on the royal loggerhead in triumph ride.

Once more to Jove their prayers addrest,
And once more Jove grants their request:
A stork he sends of monstrous size,
Red lightning flashing in his eyes;
Rul'd by no block, as heretofore,
The gazing crowds press'd to his court;
Admure his stately mien, his haughty port,
And only not adore.

Addresses of congratulation,

Sent from each loyal corporation,
Full-freight with truth and sense,
Exhausted all their eloquence.

But now, alas! 'twas night, kings must have meat;

The Grand Vizier first goes to pot,
Three Bassas next, happy their lot!
Gain'd Paradise by being eat.

"And this," said he, "and this is mine,
And this, by right divine:"
In short, 'twas all for public weal,
He swallow'd half a nation at a meal.
Again they beg Almighty Jove,
This cruel tyrant to remove.
With fierce resentment in his eyes,
The frowning Thunderer replies;
"Those evils which yourselves create,
Rash fools! ye now repent too late ;
Made wretched by the public voice,
Not through necessity, but choice!

Be gone !-Nor wrest from Heaven some heavier
Better bear this, this stork, than worse." [curse,

MORAL.

Oppress'd with happiness, and sick with ease,
Not Heaven itself our fickle min is can please.
Fondly we wish, cloy'd with celestial store,
The leeks and onions which we loath'd before:
Still roving, still desiring, never pleas'd,
With plenty starv'd, and ev'n with health diseas'd.
With partial eyes each present good we view,
Nor covet what is best, but what is new.

Ye powers above, who make mankind your care,
To bless the supplicant, reject his prayer!

FABLE XI.

LIBERTY AND LOVE; OR, THE TWO SPARROWS.
-Dos est uxoria, lites.

A SPARROW and his mate,
(Believe me, gentle Kate)

Once lov'd like I and you;
With mutual ardour join'd,
No turtles e'er so kind,

So constant, and so true.
They hopp'd from spray to spray,
They bill'd, they chirp'd all day,

They cuddled close all night;.
To bliss they wak'd each morn,
In every bush and thorn,

Gay scenes of new delight.
At length the fowler came,
(The knave was much to blame)
And this dear pair trepann'd;
Both in one cage confin'd,
Why, faith and troth, 'twas kind;
Nay, hold-that must be scann'd.
Fair liberty thus gone,
Aud one coop'd up with one,
was aukward, new, and strange;
For better and for worse,
O dismal, fatal curse!

No more abroad to range.
No carols now they sing,
Each droops his little wing,

And mourns his cruel fate: Clouds on each brow appear, My honey, and my dear,

Is now quite out of date. They pine, lament, and moan, 'Twould melt an heart of stone,

To hear their sad complaint:
Nor he supply'd her wants,
Nor she refrain'd from taunts,

That might provoke a saint.
Hard words improve to blows,
For now, grown mortal foes,

They peck, they scratch, they scream;
The cage lies on the floor,

The wires are stain'd with gore,
It swells into a stream.

Dear Kitty, would you know
The cause of all this woe,

It is not hard to guess;
Whatever does constrain,
Turns pleasure into pain,

'Tis choice alone can bles

Ovid.

When both no more are free,
Insipid I must be,

And you lose all your charms
My smother'd passion dies,
And even your bright eyes,
Necessity disarms.
Then let us love, my fair,
But unconstrain'd as air,

Each join a willing heart; Let free-born souls disdain To wear a tyrants chain,

And act a nobler part.

FABLE XII.

THE TWO SPRINGS.

-Errat longè meâ quidem sententiâ

Qui imperium credat gravius esse aut stabilius Vi quod fit, quàm illud quod amicitiâ adjungitur.

Two sister springs, from the same parent hill,
Born on the same propitious day,
Through the cleft rock distil: .
Adown the reverend mountain's side,
Through groves of myrtle glide,

Or through the violet beds obliquely stray.
The laurel, each proud victor's crown,
From them receives her high renown,
From them the curling vine
Her clusters big with racy wine,
To them her oil the peaceful olive owes,
And her vermillion blush the rose.

The gracious streams in smooth meanders flow,
To every thirsty root dispense
Their kindly cooling influence,

And Paradise adorns the mountain's brow.

But oh! the sad effect of pride!
These happy twins at last divide.
"Sister" (exclaims th' ambitious spring)
What profit do these labours bring?
Always to give, and never to enjoy,

A fruitless and a mean employ !
Stay here inglorious if you please,

And loiter out a life of indolence and ease :/
Go, humble drudge, each thistle rear,
And nurse each shrub, your daily care,
While, pouring down from this my lofty source,
I deluge all the plain,

No dams shall stop my course,

And rocks oppose in vain.

See where my foaming billows flow,

Above the hills my waves aspire,

The shepherds and their flocks retire,

Ter,

And tallest cedars as they pass in sign of homage bow.
To me each tributary spring

Its supplemental stores shall bring,
With me the rivers shall unite,
The lakes beneath my banners fight,
Till the proud Danube and the Rhine

Shall own their fame eclips'd by mine;

Both gods and men shall dread my watery sway, Nor these in cities safe, nor in their temples they,"

Away the haughty boaster flew

Scarce bade her sister stream a cool adieu,
Her waves grow turbulent and bold,

Not gently marmuring as of old,

But roughly dash against the shore, And toss their spumy heads, and proudly roar. The careful farmer with surprise, Sees the tumultuous torrent rise; With busy looks the rustic band appear,

[year.

To guard their growing hopes, the promise of the
All hands unite, with dams they bound
The rash rebellious stream around;
In vain she foams, in vain she raves,
In vain she curls her feeble waves,
Besieg'd at last on every side,

Her source exhausted and her channel dry'd,
(Such is the fate of impotence and pride!)
A shallow pond she stands confin'd,
The refuge of the croaking kind,
Rushes and sags, an inbred foe,
Choak up the muddy pool below;
The tyrant Sun on high

Exacts his usual subsidy;

And the poor pittance that remains,
Each gaping cranny drains.

Too late the fool repents her haughty boast,
A nameless nothing, in oblivion lost.

Her sister spring, benevolent and kind,

With joy sees all around her blest,
The good she does, into her generous mind
Returns again with interest.
The farmer oft invokes her aid
When Sirius nips the tender blade;

Her streams a sure elixir bring,

Gay plenty decks the fields, and a perpetual spring.
Wheree'r the gardener smooths her easy way,
Her ductile streams obey.
Courteous she visits every bed,
Narcissus rears his drooping head,
By her diffusive bounty fed.
Reviv'd from her indulgent urn,
Sad Hyacinth forgets to mourn,
Rich in the blessings she bestows,
All nature smiles wheree'er she flows.
Enamour'd with a nymph so fair,
See where the river gods appear.
A nymph so eminently good,
The joy of all the neighbourhood;
They clasp her in their liquid arms,

And riot in th' abundance of her charms. [join'd, Like old Alpheus fond, their wanton streams they Like Arethusa she, as lovely, and as kind,

Now swell'd into a mighty flood,
Her channel deep and wide,
Still she persists in doing good,
Her bounty flows with every tide.
A thousand rivulets in her train
With fertile waves enrich the plain :
The scaly herd, a numerous throng,
Beneath her silver billows glide along,

Whose still-increasing shoals supply
The poor man's wants, the great one's luxury:
Here all the feather'd troops retreat,
Securely ply their oary feet,

Upon her floating herbage gaze,

And with their tuneful notes resound her praise.

Here flocks and herds in safety feed,

And fatten in each flowery mead:
No beasts of prey appear
The watchful shepherd to beguile,
No monsters of the deep inhabit here,
Nor the voracious shark, nor wily crocodile ¿

But Delia and her nymphs, chaste sylvan queen,
By mortals prying eyes unseen,
[green.
Bathe in her flood, and sport upon her borders
Here merchants, careful of their store,

By angry billows tost,
Anchor secure beneath her shore,

And bless the friendly coast.
Soon mighty fleets in all their pride
Triumphant on her surface ride:
The busy trader on her banks appears,
An hundred different tongues she hears,
At last, with wonder and surprise,
She sees a stately city rise;
With joy the happy flood admires
The lofty domes, the pointed spires;
The porticos, magnificently great,

Where all the crowding nations meet;
The bridges that adorn her brow,

From bank to bank their ample arches stride,
Through which her curling waves in triumph glide,
And in melodious murmurs flow.
Now grown a port of high renown,
The treasure of the world her own,
Both Indies, with their precious stores,
Pay yearly tribute to her shores.
Honour'd by all, a rich, well-peopled stream,
Nor father Thames himself of more esteem.

MORAL

The power of kings (if rightly understood)
Is but a grant from Heaven of doing good;
Proud tyrants, who maliciously destroy,
And ride o'er ruins with malignant joy,
Humbled in dust, soon to their cost shall know
Heaven our avenger, and mankind their foe;
While gracious monarchs reap the good they sow:
Blessing, are bless'd; far spreads their just renown,
Consenting nations their dominion own,

And joyful happy crowds support their throne.
In vain the powers of Earth and Hell combine,
Each guardian angel shall protect that line,
Who by their virtues prove their right divine.

FABLE XIII.

THE BALD BATCHELOR:

BEING A PARAPHRASE UPON THE SECOND FABLE IN
THE SECOND BOOK OF PHEDRUS.

Frigidus in Venerem senior, frustraque laborem
Ingratum trahit: & si quando atprælia ventum est,
Ut quondam in stipulis magnus sine viribus ignis,
Incassum furit. Ergo animos ævumque notabis
Præcipuè.-
Virg. Georg. lib. iii

A BATCHELOR, who, past his prime,
Had been a good one in his time,

Had scour'd the streets, had whor'd, got drunk,
Had fought his man, and kept his punk,
Was sometimes rich, but oftener poor,
With early duns about his door,
Being a little off his mettle,
Thought it convenient now to settle;
Grew wondrous wise at forty-five,
Resolving to be grave, and thrive.
By chance he cast his roguish eye
Upon a dame who liv'd hard by;
A widow debonair and gay,
October in the dress of May;

Artful to lay both red and white,
Skill'd in repairs, and, ev'n in spite
Of time and wrinkles, kept all tight.
But he, whose heart was apt to rove,
An arrant wanderer in love;
Besides this widow, had Miss Kitty,
Juicy and young, exceeding witty:
On her he thought, serious or gay,
His dream by night, his toast by day;
He thought, but not on her alone,
For who would be confin'd to one?
Between them both strange work he made;
Gave this a ball or masquerade;
With that, at serious ombre play'd:
The self-same compliments he spoke,
The self-same oaths he swore, he broke;
Alternately on each bestows

Frail promises and short-liv'd vows.
Variety! kind source of joy!
Without whose aid all pleasures cloy;
Without thee, who would ever prove
The painful drudgeries of love?
Without thee, what indulgent wight
Would read what we in garrets write?
But, not to make my tale perplex'd,
And keep more closely to my text;
'Tis fit the courteous reader know
This middle-aged man had been a beau.
But, above all, his head of hair
Had been his great peculiar care;
To which his serious hours he lent,
Nor dee'd the precious time mispent.
"Twas long, and curling, and jet black,
Hung to the middle of his back;
Black, did I say? Ay, once 'twas so,
But cruel Time had smok'd the beau,
And powder'd o'er his head with snow.
As an old horse that had been hard rid,
Or from his master's coach discarded,
Forc'd in a tumbril to go filler,
Or load for some poor rogue a miller;
On his grave noddle, o'er his eyes,
Black hairs and white promiscuous rise;
Which chequer o'er his reverend pate,
And prove the keffel more sedate:
So with this worthy squire it far'd,
Yet he nor time nor labour spar'd,
But, with excessive cost and pains,
Still made the best of his remains.
Each night beneath his cap he furl'd it,
Each morn in modish ringlets curl'd it;
Now made his comely tresses shine,
With orange-butter, jessamine;
Then with sweet powder and perfumes
He purify'd his upper rooms.
So when a jockey brings a mare,
Or horse, or gelding, to a fair,
Though she be spavin'd, old, and blind,
With founder'd feet, and broken wind;
Yet, if he's master of his trade,
He'll curry well, and trim the jade,
To make the cheat g glibly down,
And bubble some unwary clown.
What woman made of flesh and blood,

So sweet a gallant e'er withstood?

They melt, they yield, both, both are smitten The good old puss, and the young kitten;

And, being now familiar grown,

Each look'd upon him as her own;

No longer talk'd of dear, or honey,
But of plain downright matrimony.
At that dread word his worship started,
And was (we may suppose) faint-hearted;
Yet, being resolv'd to change his state,
Winks both his eyes, and trusts to Fate.
But now new doubts and scruples rise,
To plague him with perplexities;
He knew not which, alas! to chuse,
This he must take, and that refuse..
As when some idle country lad
Swings on a gate, his wooden pad;
To right, to left, he spurs away,

But neither here nor there can stay;
Till, by the catch surpris'd, the lout
His journey ends, where he set out:
Ev'n so this dubious lover stray'd,
Between the widow and the maid;
And, after swinging to and fro,
Was just in aquilibrio.

Yet still a lover's warmth he shows,
And makes his visits and his bows;

Domestic grown, both here and there,
Nor Pug, nor Shock, were half so dear:
With bread and butter, and with tea,
And madam's toilet, who but he?
There fix'd a patch, or broke a comb;
At night, the widow's drawing room.
O sweet vicissitude of love!
Who would covet Heaven above,
Were men but thus allow'd to rove?
But alas! some curs'd event,
Some unexpected accident,
Humbles our pride, and shows the odds
Between frail mortals and the gods:
This by the sequel will appear
A truth most evident and clear.
As on the widow's panting breast
He laid his peaceful head to rest,
Dreaming of pleasures yet in store,
And joys he ne'er had felt before;
His grizly locks appear display'd,
In all their pomp of light and shade.
"Alas! my future spouse," said she,
"What do mine eyes astonish'd see ?
Marriage demands equality.
What will malicious neighbours say,
Should I, a widow young and gay,
Marry a man both old and grey?
Those hideous hairs !"-with that a tear
Did in each crystal sluice appear;
She fetch'd a deep sigh from her heart,
As who should say, Best friends must part!
Then mus'd a while: "There is but one,
But this expedient left alone,

To save that dear head from disgrace;
Here, Jenny, fetch my tweaser-case.'

To work then went the treacherous fair,
And grubb'd up here and there a hair:
But, as she meant not to renew
His charms, but set her own to view,
And by this foil more bright appear,

youthful bloom when he was near,
'The cunning gipsy nipt away
The black, but slily left the grey.
O Dallah! perfidious fair!

O sex ingenious to ensare!

How faithless all your doings are!

Whom Nature forin'd your lord, your guide, You his precarious power deride,

Tool of your vanity and pride.

The squire, who, thus deceiv'd, ne'er dreamt
What the deceitful traitress meant ;

Thrice kiss'd her hand, and then retir'd,
With more exalted thoughts inspir'd:

To his fair Filly next repairs,

With statelier port, and youthful airs.

"Lord! sir"-(said she)" you're mighty gay,

But I must tell you by the way,

That no brood goose was e'er so grey.

Here, let this haud eradicate

Those foul dishonours of your pate."

For she, poor thing! whose virgin heart,
Unskill'd in every female art,

In pure simplicity believ'd

His youth might this way be retriev'd;
At least his age disguis'd, and she,
From spiteful prudes, and censure free;
With earnest diligence and care,
Grubb'd by the roots each grizzled hair;
Some few black hairs she left behind,
But not one of the silver kind.

But when she saw what work she'd made,
His bald broad front, without a shade,
And all his hatchet face display'd,
With scarce six hairs upon a side,
His large out-spreading luggs to hide ;
She laugh'd, she scream'd; and Nan and Bess,
In concert laugh'd, and scream'd no less.
Home skulk'd the squire, and hid his face,
Sore smitten with the foul disgrace:
Softly he knock'd, but trusty John,
Who knew his hour was twelve, or one,
Rubb'd both his eyes, and yawn'd, and swore,
And quickly blunder'd to the door.
But starting back at this disaster,
Vow'd that old Nick had hagg'd his master:
The landlady, in sore affright,

Fell into fits, and swoon'd out-right;
The neighbourhood was rais'd, and call'd,
The maids miscarry'd, children bawl'd,
The cur, whom oft his bounty fed,
With many a scrap and bit of bread;
Now own'd him not, but in the throng
Growl'd at him as he sneak'd along.
To bed he went, 'tis true, but not
Or clos'd his eyes, or slept one jot
Not Nisus was in such despair,
Spoil'd of his kingdom and his hair:
Not ev'n Belinda made such moan,
When her dear favourite lock was gone.
He fum'd, he rav'd, he curs'd amain,
And all his past life ran o'er again;
Damn'd every female bite to Tyburn,
From mother Eve to mother Wyburn;

Each youthful vanity abjur'd,

Whores, box and dice, and claps ill-cur'd:
And, having lost by female art
This darling idol of his heart,

Those precious locks, that might out-vie
The trim-curl'd god who lights the sky;
Resolv'd to grow devout and wise,
Or what's almost the same-precise;
Canted, and whin'd, and talk'd most odly,
Was very slovenly and godly
(For nothing makes devotion keen,
Like disappointment and chagrin):
In fine, he set his house in order,
And piously put on a border,