* * * * *
The rats by night such mischief did,Betty was every morning chid.They undermined whole sides of bacon,Her cheese was sapped, her tarts were taken.Her pasties, fenced with thickest paste,Were all demolished, and laid waste.She cursed the cat for want of duty,Who left her foes a constant booty.An engineer, of noted skill,Engaged to stop the growing ill._10From room to room he now surveysTheir haunts, their works, their secret ways;Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade,And whence the nightly sally's made.An envious cat from place to place,Unseen, attends his silent pace.She saw, that if his trade went on,The purring race must be undone;So, secretly removes his baits,And every stratagem defeats._20Again he sets the poisoned toils,And puss again the labour foils.'What foe (to frustrate my designs)My schemes thus nightly countermines?'Incensed, he cries: 'this very hourThis wretch shall bleed beneath my power.'So said. A pond'rous trap he brought,And in the fact poor puss was caught.'Smuggler,' says he, 'thou shalt be madeA victim to our loss of trade.'_30The captive cat, with piteous mews,For pardon, life, and freedom sues:'A sister of the science spare;One interest is our common care.''What insolence!' the man replied;'Shall cats with us the game divide?Were all your interloping bandExtinguished, of expelled the land,We rat-catchers might raise our fees,Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!'_40A cat, who saw the lifted knife,Thus spoke, and saved her sister's life:'In every age and clime we see,Two of a trade can ne'er agree.Each hates his neighbour for encroaching;Squire stigmatises squire for poaching;Beauties with beauties are in arms,And scandal pelts each other's charms;Kings too their neighbour kings dethrone,In hope to make the world their own._50But let us limit our desires;Nor war like beauties, kings, and squires!For though we both one prey pursue,There's game enough for us and you.'
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'Tis certain, that the modish passionsDescend among the crowd, like fashions.Excuse me then, if pride, conceit,(The manners of the fair and great)I give to monkeys, asses, dogs,Fleas, owls, goats, butterflies, and hogs.I say that these are proud. What then?I never said they equal men.A goat (as vain as goat can be)Affected singularity._10Whene'er a thymy bank he found,He rolled upon the fragrant ground;And then with fond attention stood,Fixed o'er his image in the flood.'I hate my frowsy beard,' he cries;'My youth is lost in this disguise.Did not the females know my vigour,Well might they loathe this reverend figure.'Resolved to smoothe his shaggy face,He sought the barber of the place._20A flippant monkey, spruce and smart,Hard by, professed the dapper art;His pole with pewter basins hung,Black rotten teeth in order strung,Ranged cups that in the window stood,Lined with red rags, to look like blood,Did well his threefold trade explain,Who shaved, drew teeth, and breathed a vein.The goat he welcomes with an air,And seats him in his wooden chair:_30Mouth, nose, and cheek the lather hides:Light, smooth, and swift the razor glides.'I hope your custom, sir,' says pug.'Sure never face was half so smug.'The goat, impatient for applause,Swift to the neighbouring hill withdraws:The shaggy people grinned and stared.'Heyday! what's here? without a beard!Say, brother, whence the dire disgrace?What envious hand hath robbed your face?'_40When thus the fop with smiles of scorn:'Are beards by civil nations worn?Even Muscovites have mowed their chins.Shall we, like formal Capuchins,Stubborn in pride, retain the mode,And bear about the hairy load?Whene'er we through the village stray,Are we not mocked along the way;Insulted with loud shouts of scorn,By boys our beards disgraced and torn?'_50'Were you no more with goats to dwell,Brother, I grant you reason well,'Replies a bearded chief. 'Beside,If boys can mortify thy pride,How wilt thou stand the ridiculeOf our whole flock? Affected fool!Coxcombs, distinguished from the rest,To all but coxcombs are a jest.'
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Who friendship with a knave hath made,Is judged a partner in the trade.The matron who conducts abroadA willing nymph, is thought a bawd;And if a modest girl is seenWith one who cures a lover's spleen,We guess her not extremely nice,And only wish to know her price.'Tis thus that on the choice of friendsOur good or evil name depends._10A wrinkled hag, of wicked fame,Beside a little smoky flameSate hovering, pinched with age and frost;Her shrivelled hands, with veins embossed,Upon her knees her weight sustains,While palsy shook her crazy brains:She mumbles forth her backward prayers,An untamed scold of fourscore years.About her swarmed a numerous broodOf cats, who, lank with hunger, mewed._20Teased with their cries, her choler grew,And thus she sputtered: 'Hence, ye crew.Fool that I was, to entertainSuch imps, such fiends, a hellish train!Had ye been never housed and nursed,I, for a witch had ne'er been cursed.To you I owe, that crowds of boysWorry me with eternal noise;Straws laid across, my pace retard,The horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's guard),_30The stunted broom the wenches hide,For fear that I should up and ride;They stick with pins my bleeding seat,And bid me show my secret teat.''To hear you prate would vex a saint;Who hath most reason of complaint?'Replies a cat. 'Let's come to proof.Had we ne'er starved beneath your roof,We had, like others of our race,In credit lived as beasts of chase._40'Tis infamy to serve a hag;Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag;And boys against our lives combine,Because, 'tis said, you cats have nine.'
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All upstarts insolent in place,Remind us of their vulgar race.As, in the sunshine of the morn,A butterfly (but newly born)Sat proudly perking on a rose;With pert conceit his bosom glows;His wings (all-glorious to behold)Bedropp'd with azure, jet, and gold,Wide he displays; the spangled dewReflects his eyes, and various hue._10His now-forgotten friend, a snail,Beneath his house, with slimy trailCrawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies,In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:'What means yon peasant's daily toil,From choking weeds to rid the soil?Why wake you to the morning's care,Why with new arts correct the year,Why glows the peach with crimson hue,And why the plum's inviting blue;_20Were they to feast his taste design'd,That vermin of voracious kind?Crush then the slow, the pilfering race;So purge thy garden from disgrace.''What arrogance!' the snail replied;'How insolent is upstart pride!Hadst thou not thus with insult vain,Provoked my patience to complain,I had concealed thy meaner birth,Nor traced thee to the scum of earth._30For scarce nine suns have waked the hours,To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers,Since I thy humbler life surveyed,In base, in sordid guise arrayed;A hideous insect, vile, unclean,You dragged a slow and noisome train;And from your spider-bowels drewFoul film, and spun the dirty clew.I own my humble life, good friend;Snail was I born, and snail shall end._40And what's a butterfly? At best,He's but a caterpillar, dress'd;And all thy race (a numerous seed)Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'
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The husband thus reproved his wife:'Who deals in slander, lives in strife.Art thou the herald of disgrace,Denouncing war to all thy race?Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage,Which spares no friend, nor sex, nor age?That vixen tongue of yours, my dear,Alarms our neighbours far and near.Good gods! 'tis like a rolling river,That murmuring flows, and flows for ever!_10Ne'er tired, perpetual discord sowing!Like fame, it gathers strength by going.''Heyday!' the flippant tongue replies,How solemn is the fool, how wise!Is nature's choicest gift debarred?Nay, frown not; for I will be heard.Women of late are finely ridden,A parrot's privilege forbidden!You praise his talk, his squalling song;But wives are always in the wrong.'_20Now reputations flew in pieces,Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces.She ran the parrot's language o'er,Bawd, hussy, drunkard, slattern, whore;On all the sex she vents her fury,Tries and condemns without a jury.At once the torrent of her wordsAlarmed cat, monkey, dogs, and birds:All join their forces to confound her;Puss spits, the monkey chatters round her;_30The yelping cur her heels assaults;The magpie blabs out all her faults;Poll, in the uproar, from his cage,With this rebuke out-screamed her rage:'A parrot is for talking prized,But prattling women are despised.She who attacks another's honour,Draws every living thing upon her.Think, madam, when you stretch your lungs,That all your neighbours too have tongues._40One slander must ten thousand get,The world with interest pays the debt.'
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A sneaking cur, the master's spy,Rewarded for his daily lie,With secret jealousies and fearsSet all together by the ears.Poor puss to-day was in disgrace,Another cat supplied her place;The hound was beat, the mastiff chid,The monkey was the room forbid;Each to his dearest friend grew shy,And none could tell the reason why._10A plan to rob the house was laid,The thief with love seduced the maid;Cajoled the cur, and stroked his head,And bought his secrecy with bread.He next the mastiff's honour tried,Whose honest jaws the bribe defied.He stretched his hand to proffer more;The surly dog his fingers tore.Swift ran the cur; with indignationThe master took his information._20'Hang him, the villain's cursed,' he cries;And round his neck the halter ties.The dog his humble suit preferred,And begged in justice to be heard.The master sat. On either handThe cited dogs confronting stand;The cur the bloody tale relates,And, like a lawyer, aggravates.'Judge not unheard,' the mastiff cried,'But weigh the cause on either side._30Think not that treachery can be just,Take not informers' words on trust.They ope their hand to every pay,And you and me by turns betray.'He spoke. And all the truth appeared,The cur was hanged, the mastiff cleared.
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'Is there no hope?' the sick man said.The silent doctor shook his head,And took his leave with signs of sorrow,Despairing of his fee to-morrow.When thus the man with gasping breath;'I feel the chilling wound of death:Since I must bid the world adieu,Let me my former life review.I grant, my bargains well were made,But all men over-reach in trade;_10
'Tis self-defence in each profession,Sure self-defence is no transgression.The little portion in my hands,By good security on lands,Is well increased. If unawares,My justice to myself and heirs,Hath let my debtor rot in jail,For want of good sufficient bail;If I by writ, or bond, or deed,Reduced a family to need,_20My will hath made the world amends;My hope on charity depends.When I am numbered with the dead,And all my pious gifts are read,By heaven and earth 'twill then be knownMy charities were amply shown'An angel came. 'Ah, friend!' he cried,'No more in flattering hope confide.Can thy good deeds in former timesOutweigh the balance of thy crimes?_30What widow or what orphan praysTo crown thy life with length of days?A pious action's in thy power,Embrace with joy the happy hour.Now, while you draw the vital air,Prove your intention is sincere.This instant give a hundred pound;Your neighbours want, and you abound.''But why such haste?' the sick man whines;'Who knows as yet what Heaven designs?_40Perhaps I may recover still;That sum and more are in my will?'Fool,' says the vision, 'now 'tis plain,Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain,From every side, with all your might,You scraped, and scraped beyond your right;And after death would fain atone,By giving what is not your own.''While there is life, there's hope,' he cried;'Then why such haste?' so groaned and died._50
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Is there a bard whom genius fires,Whose every thought the god inspires?When Envy reads the nervous lines,She frets, she rails, she raves, she pines;Her hissing snakes with venom swell;She calls her venal train from hell:The servile fiends her nod obey,And all Curl's[4] authors are in pay,Fame calls up calumny and spite.Thus shadow owes its birth to light._10As prostrate to the god of day,With heart devout, a Persian lay,His invocation thus begun:'Parent of light, all-seeing Sun,Prolific beam, whose rays dispenseThe various gifts of providence,Accept our praise, our daily prayer,Smile on our fields, and bless the year.'A cloud, who mocked his grateful tongue,The day with sudden darkness hung;_20With pride and envy swelled, aloudA voice thus thundered from the cloud:'Weak is this gaudy god of thine,Whom I at will forbid to shine.Shall I nor vows, nor incense know?Where praise is due, the praise bestow.'With fervent zeal the Persian moved,Thus the proud calumny reproved:'It was that god, who claims my prayer,Who gave thee birth, and raised thee there;_30When o'er his beams the veil is thrown,Thy substance is but plainer shown.A passing gale, a puff of windDispels thy thickest troops combined.'The gale arose; the vapour toss'd(The sport of winds) in air was lost;The glorious orb the day refines.Thus envy breaks, thus merit shines.
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A fox, in life's extreme decay,Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay;All appetite had left his maw,And age disarmed his mumbling jaw.His numerous race around him standTo learn their dying sire's command:He raised his head with whining moan,And thus was heard the feeble tone:'Ah, sons! from evil ways depart:My crimes lie heavy on my heart._10See, see, the murdered geese appear!Why are those bleeding turkeys here?Why all around this cackling train,Who haunt my ears for chicken slain?The hungry foxes round them stared,And for the promised feast prepared.'Where, sir, is all this dainty cheer?Nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here.These are the phantoms of your brain,And your sons lick their lips in vain.'_20'O gluttons!' says the drooping sire,'Restrain inordinate desire.Your liqu'rish taste you shall deplore,When peace of conscience is no more.Does not the hound betray our pace,And gins and guns destroy our race?Thieves dread the searching eye of power,And never feel the quiet hour.Old age (which few of us shall know)Now puts a period to my woe._30Would you true happiness attain,Let honesty your passions rein;So live in credit and esteem,And the good name you lost, redeem.''The counsel's good,' a fox replies,'Could we perform what you advise.Think what our ancestors have done;A line of thieves from son to son:To us descends the long disgrace,And infamy hath marked our race._40Though we, like harmless sheep, should feed,Honest in thought, in word, and deed;Whatever henroost is decreased,We shall be thought to share the feast.The change shall never be believed,A lost good name is ne'er retrieved.''Nay, then,' replies the feeble fox,'(But hark! I hear a hen that clocks)Go, but be moderate in your food;A chicken too might do me good.'
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The ranging dog the stubble tries,And searches every breeze that flies;The scent grows warm; with cautious fearHe creeps, and points the covey near;The men, in silence, far behind,Conscious of game, the net unbind.A partridge, with experience wise,The fraudful preparation spies:She mocks their toils, alarms her brood;The covey springs, and seeks the wood;_10But ere her certain wing she tries,Thus to the creeping spaniel cries:'Thou fawning slave to man's deceit,Thou pimp of luxury, sneaking cheat,Of thy whole species thou disgrace,Dogs shall disown thee of their race!For if I judge their native parts,They're born with open, honest hearts;And, ere they serve man's wicked ends,Were generous foes, or real friends.'_20When thus the dog, with scornful smile:'Secure of wing, thou dar'st revile.Clowns are to polished manners blind,How ignorant is the rustic mind!My worth, sagacious courtiers see,And to preferment rise, like me.The thriving pimp, who beauty sets,Hath oft enhanced a nation's debts:Friend sets his friend, without regard;And ministers his skill reward:_30Thus trained by man, I learnt his ways,And growing favour feasts my days.''I might have guessed,' the partridge said,'The place where you were trained and fed;Servants are apt, and in a triceApe to a hair their master's vice.You came from court, you say. Adieu,'She said, and to the covey flew.
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A rake, by every passion ruled,With every vice his youth had cooled;Disease his tainted blood assails;His spirits droop, his vigour fails;With secret ills at home he pines,And, like infirm old age, declines.As, twinged with pain, he pensive sits,And raves, and prays, and swears by fits,A ghastly phantom, lean and wan,Before him rose, and thus began:_10'My name, perhaps, hath reached your ear;Attend, and be advised by Care.Nor love, nor honour, wealth, nor power,Can give the heart a cheerful hour,When health is lost. Be timely wise:With health all taste of pleasure flies.'Thus said, the phantom disappears.The wary counsel waked his fears:He now from all excess abstains,With physic purifies his veins;_20And, to procure a sober life,Resolves to venture on a wife.But now again the sprite ascends,Where'er he walks his ear attends;Insinuates that beauty's frail,That perseverance must prevail;With jealousies his brain inflames,And whispers all her lovers' names.In other hours she representsHis household charge, his annual rents,_30Increasing debts, perplexing duns,And nothing for his younger sons.Straight all his thought to gain he turns,And with the thirst of lucre burns.But when possessed of fortune's store,The spectre haunts him more and more;Sets want and misery in view,Bold thieves, and all the murd'ring crew,Alarms him with eternal frights,Infests his dream, or wakes his nights._40How shall he chase this hideous guest?Power may perhaps protect his rest.To power he rose. Again the spriteBesets him, morning, noon, and night!Talks of ambition's tottering seat,How envy persecutes the great,Of rival hate, of treacherous friends,And what disgrace his fall attends.The Court he quits to fly from Care,And seeks the peace of rural air:_50His groves, his fields, amused his hours;He pruned his trees, he raised his flowers.But Care again his steps pursues;Warns him of blasts, of blighting dews,Of plund'ring insects, snails, and rains,And droughts that starved the laboured plains.Abroad, at home, the spectre's there:In vain we seek to fly from Care.At length he thus the ghost address'd:'Since thou must be my constant guest,_60Be kind, and follow me no more;For Care by right should go before.'
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Two formal owls together sat,Conferring thus in solemn chat:'How is the modern taste decayed!Where's the respect to wisdom paid?Our worth the Grecian sages knew;They gave our sires the honour due;They weighed the dignity of fowls,And pried into the depth of owls.Athens, the seat of learned fame,With general voice revered our name;_10On merit, title was conferred,And all adored the Athenian bird.''Brother, you reason well,' repliesThe solemn mate, with half-shut eyes;'Right. Athens was the seat of learning,And truly wisdom is discerning.Besides, on Pallas' helm we sit,The type and ornament of wit:But now, alas! we're quite neglected,And a pert sparrow's more respected.'_20A sparrow, who was lodged beside,O'erhears them soothe each other's pride,And thus he nimbly vents his heat:'Who meets a fool must find conceit.I grant, you were at Athens graced,And on Minerva's helm were placed;But every bird that wings the sky,Except an owl, can tell you why.From hence they taught their schools to knowHow false we judge by outward show;_30That we should never looks esteem,Since fools as wise as you might seem.Would ye contempt and scorn avoid,Let your vain-glory be destroyed:Humble your arrogance of thought,Pursue the ways by Nature taught;So shall you find delicious fare,And grateful farmers praise your care:So shall sleek mice your chase reward,And no keen cat find more regard.'_40
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Whene'er a courtier's out of placeThe country shelters his disgrace;Where, doomed to exercise and health,His house and gardens own his wealth,He builds new schemes in hopes to gainThe plunder of another reign;Like Philip's son, would fain be doing,And sighs for other realms to ruin.As one of these (without his wand)Pensive, along the winding strand_10Employed the solitary hour,In projects to regain his power;The waves in spreading circles ran,Proteus arose, and thus began:'Came you from Court? For in your mienA self-important air is seen.He frankly owned his friends had tricked himAnd how he fell his party's victim.'Know,' says the god, 'by matchless skillI change to every shape at will;_20But yet I'm told, at Court you seeThose who presume to rival me.'Thus said. A snake with hideous trail,Proteus extends his scaly mail.'Know,' says the man, 'though proud in place,All courtiers are of reptile race.Like you, they take that dreadful form,Bask in the sun, and fly the storm;With malice hiss, with envy gloat,And for convenience change their coat;_30With new-got lustre rear their head,Though on a dunghill born and bred.'Sudden the god a lion stands;He shakes his mane, he spurns the sands;Now a fierce lynx, with fiery glare,A wolf, an ass, a fox, a bear.'Had I ne'er lived at Court,' he cries,'Such transformation might surprise;But there, in quest of daily game,Each able courtier acts the same._40Wolves, lions, lynxes, while in place,Their friends and fellows are their chase.They play the bear's and fox's part;Now rob by force, now steal with art.They sometimes in the senate bray;Or, changed again to beasts of prey,Down from the lion to the ape,Practise the frauds of every shape.'So said, upon the god he flies,In cords the struggling captive ties._50'Now, Proteus, now, (to truth compelled)Speak, and confess thy art excelled.Use strength, surprise, or what you will,The courtier finds evasions still:Not to be bound by any ties,And never forced to leave his lies.'
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Those who in quarrels interpose,Must often wipe a bloody nose.A mastiff, of true English blood,Loved fighting better than his food.When dogs were snarling for a bone,He longed to make the war his own,And often found (when two contend)To interpose obtained his end;He gloried in his limping pace;The scars of honour seamed his face;_10In every limb a gash appears,And frequent fights retrenched his ears.As, on a time, he heard from farTwo dogs engaged in noisy war,Away he scours and lays about him,Resolved no fray should be without him.Forth from his yard a tanner flies,And to the bold intruder cries:'A cudgel shall correct your manners,Whence sprung this cursed hate to tanners?_20While on my dog you vent your spite,Sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite.'To see the battle thus perplexed,With equal rage a butcher vexed,Hoarse-screaming from the circled crowd,To the cursed mastiff cries aloud:'Both Hockley-hole and Mary-boneThe combats of my dog have known.He ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted,Attacks in public, to be parted._30Think not, rash fool, to share his fame:Be his the honour, or the shame.'Thus said, they swore, and raved like thunder;Then dragged their fastened dogs asunder;While clubs and kicks from every sideRebounded from the mastiff's hide.All reeking now with sweat and blood,Awhile the parted warriors stood,Then poured upon the meddling foe;Who, worried, howled and sprawled below._40He rose; and limping from the fray,By both sides mangled, sneaked away.
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How many saucy airs we meetFrom Temple Bar to Aldgate Street!Proud rogues, who shared the South-Sea prey,And sprung like mushrooms in a day!They think it mean, to condescendTo know a brother or a friend;They blush to hear their mother's name,And by their pride expose their shame.As cross his yard, at early day,A careful farmer took his way,_10He stopped, and leaning on his fork,Observed the flail's incessant work.In thought he measured all his store,His geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er;In fancy weighed the fleeces shorn,And multiplied the next year's corn.A Barley-mow, which stood beside,Thus to its musing master cried:'Say, good sir, is it fit or rightTo treat me with neglect and slight?_20Me, who contribute to your cheer,And raise your mirth with ale and beer?Why thus insulted, thus disgraced,And that vile dunghill near me placed?Are those poor sweepings of a groom,That filthy sight, that nauseous fume,Meet objects here? Command it hence:A thing so mean must give offence'The humble dunghill thus replied:'Thy master hears, and mocks thy pride:_30Insult not thus the meek and low;In me thy benefactor know;My warm assistance gave thee birth,Or thou hadst perished low in earth;But upstarts, to support their station,Cancel at once all obligation.'
* * * * *
Pythag'ras rose at early dawn,By soaring meditation drawn,To breathe the fragrance of the day,Through flowery fields he took his way.In musing contemplation warm,His steps misled him to a farm,Where, on the ladder's topmost round,A peasant stood; the hammer's soundShook the weak barn. 'Say, friend, what careCalls for thy honest labour there?'_10The clown, with surly voice replies,'Vengeance aloud for justice cries.This kite, by daily rapine fed,My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread,At length his forfeit life has paid;See on the wall his wings displayed,Here nailed, a terror to his kind,My fowls shall future safety find;My yard the thriving poultry feed,And my barn's refuse fat the breed.'_20'Friend,' says the sage, 'the doom is wise;For public good the murderer dies.But if these tyrants of the airDemand a sentence so severe,Think how the glutton man devours;What bloody feasts regale his hours!O impudence of power and might,Thus to condemn a hawk or kite,When thou, perhaps, carniv'rous sinner,Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!'_30'Hold,' cried the clown, with passion heated,'Shall kites and men alike be treated?When Heaven the world with creatures stored,Man was ordained their sovereign lord.''Thus tyrants boast,' the sage replied,'Whose murders spring from power and pride.Own then this man-like kite is slainThy greater luxury to sustain;For "Petty rogues submit to fate,That great ones may enjoy their state."'[5]_40
'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 applied?''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!_10Last 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.'_20Betwixt her swagging panniers' loadA farmer's wife to market rode,And, jogging on, with thoughtful careSummed 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,_30Fell prone; o'erturned the pannier lay,And her mashed eggs bestrewed the way.She, sprawling in the yellow road,Railed, swore and cursed: 'Thou croaking toad,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;_40For 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 his legs,And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'
In other men we faults can spy,And blame the mote that dims their eye,Each little speck and blemish find,To our own stronger errors blind.A turkey, tired of common food,Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;Behind her ran her infant train,Collecting here and there a grain.'Draw near, my birds,' the mother cries,'This hill delicious fare supplies;_10Behold, the busy negro race,See, millions blacken all the place!Fear not. Like me with freedom eat;An ant is most delightful meat.How bless'd, how envied were our life,Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife!But man, cursed man, on turkeys preys,And Christmas shortens all our days:Sometimes with oysters we combine,Sometimes assist the savoury chine._20From the low peasant to the lord,The turkey smokes on every board.Sure men for gluttony are cursed,Of the seven deadly sins the worst.'An ant, who climbed beyond his reach,Thus answered from the neighbouring beech:'Ere you remark another's sin, 27Bid thy own conscience look within;Control thy more voracious bill,Nor for a breakfast nations kill.'_30
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The man to Jove his suit preferred;He begged a wife. His prayer was heard,Jove wondered at his bold addressing:For how precarious is the blessing!A wife he takes. And now for heirsAgain he worries heaven with prayers.Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boysAnd a fine girl reward his joys.Now, more solicitous he grew,And set their future lives in view;_10He saw that all respect and dutyWere paid to wealth, to power, and beauty.'Once more,' he cries, 'accept my prayer;Make my loved progeny thy care.Let my first hope, my favourite boy,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._20With 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;_30In fancied 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 reached the height of power and place;Then fell, the victim of disgrace.Beauty with early bloom suppliesHis daughter's cheek, and points her eyes.The vain coquette each suit disdains,And glories in her lover's pains._40With age she fades, each lover flies;Contemned, forlorn, she pines and dies.When Jove the father's grief surveyed,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 illDare to direct the eternal will?Seek virtue; and, of that possess'd,To Providence resign the rest'_50
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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;_10In fancy wiser than the rest,Laughs at them both, of both the jest.Is not the poet's chiming closeCensured by all the sons of prose?While bards of quick imaginationDespise the sleepy prose narration.Men laugh at apes, they men contemn;For what are we, but apes to them?Two monkeys went to Southwark fair,No critics had a sourer air:_20They forced their way through draggled folks,Who gaped 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,Provoked a laugh throughout the place.'Brother,' says Pug, and turned his head,'The rabble's monstrously ill bred.'Now through the booth loud hisses ran;Nor ended till the show began._30The tumbler whirls the flap-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 theseThe giant apes of reason please,_40How 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 tree?But yet, by this applause, we findThese emulators of our kindDiscern our worth, our parts regard,Who our mean mimics thus reward.'_50'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.'_60
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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,OrPost-boy, orGazetteperuse;Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound,And fix the fate of Europe round._10Sheaves piled on sheaves, hid all the floor;At dawn of morn, to view his storeThe farmer came. The hooting guestHis self-importance thus express'd:'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_20To his ill-judging ears are fine;And nightingales are all divine.But the more knowing feathered raceSee wisdom stamped 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 laughed, and thus replied:'Thou dull important lump of pride,_30Dar'st thou with that harsh grating tongue,Depreciate birds of warbling song?Indulge thy spleen. Know, men and fowlRegard 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.'
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A juggler long through all the townHad raised 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;Convinced of his inferior skill,She sought his booth, and from the crowdDefied the man of art aloud:'Is this, then, he so famed for sleight?Can this slow bungler cheat your sight!_10Dares he with me dispute the prize?I leave it to impartial eyes.'Provoked, the juggler cried, ''tis done.In science I submit to none.'Thus said, the cups and balls he played;By turns, this here, that there, conveyed.The cards, obedient to his words,Are by a fillip turned to birds.His little boxes change the grain:Trick after trick deludes the train._20He shakes his bag, he shows all fair;His fingers spreads, 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,Amazed spectators hum applause.Vice now stept forth, and took the placeWith all the forms of his grimace.'This magic looking-glass,' she cries,(There, hand it round) 'will charm your eyes.'_30Each eager eye the sight desired,And every man himself admired.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 shone.A second puff the magic broke,The padlock vanished, and he spoke.Twelve bottles ranged upon the board,All full, with heady liquor stored,_40By clean conveyance disappear,And now two bloody swords are there.A purse she to a thief exposed,At once his ready fingers closed;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 churchwarden blows,_50'Tis vanished with conveyance neat,And on the table smokes a treat.She shakes the dice, the boards she knocks,And from all pockets fills her box.She next a meagre rake address'd:'This picture see; her shape, her breast!What youth, and what inviting eyes!Hold her, and have her.' With surprise,His hand exposed a box of pills,And a loud laugh proclaimed his ills._60A counter, in a miser's hand,Grew twenty guineas at command.She bids his heir the sum retain,And 'tis a counter now again.A guinea with her touch you seeTake every shape, but charity;And not one thing you saw, or drew,But changed from what was first in view.The juggler now in grief of heart,With this submission owned her art:_70'Can I such matchless sleight withstand?How practice hath improved your hand!But now and then I cheat the throng;You every day, and all day long.'
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Upon a time a neighing steed,Who grazed among a numerous breed,With mutiny had fired the train,And spread dissension through the plain.On matters that concerned the stateThe council met in grand debate.A colt, whose eye-balls flamed with ire,Elate with strength and youthful fire,In haste stept forth before the rest,And thus the listening throng addressed:_10'Good gods! how abject is our race,Condemned 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 designed for daily toil,To drag the ploughshare through, the soil,_20To sweat in harness through the road,To groan beneath the carrier's load?How feeble are the two-legged kind!What force is in our nerves combined!Shall then our nobler jaws submitTo 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._30Let him the lion first control,And still the tiger's famished growl.Let us, like them, our freedom claim,And make him tremble at our name.'A general nod approved the cause,And all the circle neighed applause.When, lo! with grave and solemn pace,A steed advanced before the race,With age and long experience wise;Around he cast his thoughtful eyes,_40And, 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 increaseMy latter life is rest and peace.I grant, to man we lend our pains,And aid him to correct the plains._50But doth not he 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 decreedTo aid each other's mutual need,_60Appease your discontented mind,And act the part by heaven assigned.'The tumult ceased. The colt submitted,And, like his ancestors, was bitted.
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Impertinence at first is borneWith heedless slight, or smiles of scorn;Teased into wrath, what patience bearsThe 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 scattered wide, they try the plain,And snuff the dewy turf in vain._10What 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 strainHe still persists to vex the train.The huntsman to the clamour flies;The smacking lash he smartly plies._20His ribs all welked, with howling toneThe puppy thus expressed his moan:'I know the music of my tongueLong since the pack with envy stung.What will not spite? These bitter smartsI owe to my superior parts.''When puppies prate,' the huntsman cried,'They show both ignorance and pride:Fools may our scorn, not envy raise,For envy is a kind of praise._30Had not thy forward noisy tongueProclaimed thee always in the wrong,Thou might'st have mingled with the rest,And ne'er thy foolish nose confess'd.But fools, to talking ever prone,Are sure to make their follies known.'
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I hate the man who builds his nameOn 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 decried.Who praises Lesbia's eyes and feature,Must call her sister, awkward creature;_10For the kind flattery's sure to charm,When we some other nymph disarm.As in the cool of early dayA poet sought the sweets of May,The garden's fragrant breath ascends,And every stalk with odour bends.A rose he plucked, he gazed, admired,Thus singing as the muse inspired:'Go, rose, my Chloe's bosom grace;How happy should I prove,_20Might I supply that envied placeWith never fading love!There, phoenix-like, beneath her eye,Involved in fragrance, burn and die!Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt findMore fragrant roses there;I see thy withering head reclinedWith envy and despair!One common fate we both must prove;You die with envy, I with love.'_30'Spare your comparisons,' repliedAn 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 madeTo wither, envy, pine and fade?'_40
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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 friends and foes;In wit and war the bully raceContribute to their own disgrace.Too late the forward youth shall findThat jokes are sometimes paid in kind;_10Or 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,Imagined that his treble throatWas blest with music's sweetest note:In the mid road he basking lay,The yelping nuisance of the way;For not a creature passed along,But had a sample of his song._20Soon as the trotting steed he hears,He starts, he cocks his dapper ears;Away he scours, assaults his hoof;Now near him snarls, now barks aloof;With shrill impertinence attends;Nor leaves him till the village ends.It chanced, upon his evil day,A pad came pacing down the way:The cur, with never-ceasing tongue,Upon the passing traveller sprung._30The horse, from scorn provoked to ire,Flung backward; rolling in the mire,The puppy howled, and bleeding lay;The pad in peace pursued the 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 tied,Thou hadst not, like a puppy, died.'_40
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Death, on a solemn night of state,In all his pomp of terror sate:The attendants of his gloomy reign,Diseases dire, a ghastly train!Crowd the vast court. With hollow tone,A voice thus thundered 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._10Fever, with burning heat possess'd,Advanced, and for the wand address'd:'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, 19And every joint and sinew plies;_20Still working when he seems suppress'd,A most tenacious stubborn guest.A haggard spectre from the crewCrawls 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 urged his ever-growing force.And, next, Consumption's meagre corse,_30With feeble voice, that scarce was heard,Broke with short coughs, his suit preferred:'Let none object my ling'ring way,I gain, like Fabius, by delay;Fatigue and weaken every foeBy long attack, secure, though slow.'Plague represents his rapid power,Who thinned a nation in an hour.All spoke their claim, and hoped the wand.Now expectation hushed the band,_40When 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 esteemed a friend;_50He 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.'
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A gard'ner, of peculiar taste,On a young hog his favour placed;Who fed not with the common herd;His tray was to the hall preferred.He wallowed underneath the board,Or in his master's chamber snored;Who fondly stroked him every day,And taught him all the puppy's play;Where'er he went, the grunting friendNe'er failed his pleasure to attend._10As on a time, the loving pairWalked forth to tend the garden's care,The master thus address'd the swine:'My house, my garden, all is thine.On turnips feast whene'er you please,And riot in my beans and peas;If the potato's taste delights,Or the red carrot's sweet invites,Indulge thy morn and evening hours,But let due care regard my flowers:_20My tulips are my garden's pride,What vast expense those beds supplied!'The hog by chance one morning roamed,Where with new ale the vessels foamed.He munches now the steaming grains,Now with full swill the liquor drains.Intoxicating fumes arise; 27He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;Then stagg'ring through the garden scours,And treads down painted ranks of flowers._30With delving snout he turns the soil,And cools his palate with the spoil.The master came, the ruin spied,'Villain, suspend thy rage,' he cried.'Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot,My charge, my only charge forgot?What, all my flowers!' No more he said,But gazed, and sighed, and hung his head.The hog with stutt'ring speech returns:'Explain, sir, why your anger burns._40See there, untouched, your tulips strown,For I devoured the roots alone.'At this the gard'ner's passion grows;From oaths and threats he fell to blows.The stubborn brute the blow sustains;Assaults his leg, and tears the veins.Ah! foolish swain, too late you findThat sties were for such friends designed!Homeward he limps with painful pace,Reflecting thus on past disgrace:_50Who cherishes a brutal mateShall mourn the folly soon or late.
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Whether on earth, in air, or main,Sure everything alive is vain!Does not the hawk all fowls survey,As destined 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;_10'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!'_20'What dignity's in human nature!'Says man, the most conceited creature,As from a cliff he cast his eye,And viewed the sea and arched sky;The sun was sunk beneath the main,The moon and all the starry trainHung the vast vault of heaven. The manHis contemplation thus began:'When I behold this glorious show,And the wide watery world below,_30The scaly people of the main,The beasts that range the wood or plain,The winged inhabitants of air,The day, the night, the various year,And know all these by heaven design'dAs gifts to pleasure human kind;I cannot raise my worth too high;Of what vast consequence am I!''Not of the importance you suppose,'Replies a flea upon his nose._40'Be humble, learn thyself to scan;Know, pride was never made for man.'Tis vanity that swells thy mind.What, heaven and earth for thee designed!For thee, made only for our need,That more important fleas might feed.'
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Friendship, like love, is but a name,Unless to one you stint the flame.The child, whom many fathers share,Hath seldom known a father's care.Tis thus in friendships; who dependOn many, rarely find a friend.A hare, who in a civil way,Complied with everything, like Gay,Was known by all the bestial trainWho haunt the wood, or graze the plain._10Her care was never to offend,And every creature was her friend.As forth she went at early dawn,To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,Behind she hears the hunter's cries,And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;She hears the near advance of death;She doubles to mislead the hound,And measures back her mazy round;_20Till fainting in the public way,Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay.What transport in her bosom grew,When first the horse appeared in view!'Let me,' says she, 'your back ascend,And owe my safety to a friend.You know my feet betray my flight;To friendship every burden's light.'The horse replied—'Poor honest puss,It grieves my heart to see thee thus;_30Be comforted, relief is near;For all your friends are in the rear.'She next the stately bull implored;And thus replied the mighty lord—'Since every beast alive can tellThat I sincerely wish you well,I may, without offence, pretendTo take the freedom of a friend.Love calls me hence; a favourite cowExpects me near yon barley mow:_40And when a lady's in the case,You know all other things give place.To leave you thus might seem unkind;But see, the goat is just behind.'The goat remarked her pulse was high,Her languid head, her heavy eye;'My back,' says she, 'may do you harm;The sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.'The sheep was feeble, and complainedHis sides a load of wool sustained:_50Said he was slow, confessed his fears;For hounds cat sheep, as well as hares.She now the trotting calf addressed,To save from death a friend distressed.'Shall I,' says he, 'of tender age,In this important care engage?Older and abler passed you by;How strong are those! how weak am I!Should I presume to bear you hence,Those friends of mine may take offence._60Excuse me then. You know my heart,But dearest friends, alas! must part.How shall we all lament! Adieu!For see the hounds are just in view.'
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I know you lawyers can with easeTwist words and meanings as you please;That language, by your skill made pliant,Will bend to favour every client;That 'tis the fee directs the sense,To make out either side's pretence.When you peruse the clearest case,You see it with a double face:For scepticism's your profession;You hold there's doubt in all expression._10Hence is the bar with fees supplied,Hence eloquence takes either side.Your hand would have but paltry gleaningCould every man express his meaning.Who dares presume to pen a deed.Unless you previously are fee'd?'Tis drawn; and, to augment the cost,In dull prolixity engrossed.And now we're well secured by law,Till the next brother find a flaw._20Read o'er a will. Was't ever known,But you could make the will your own;For when you read,'tis with intentTo find out meanings never meant.Since things are thus,se defendendo,I bar fallacious innuendo.Sagacious Porta's[6] skill could traceSome beast or bird in every face.The head, the eye, the nose's shape,Proved this an owl, and that an ape._30When, in the sketches thus designed,Resemblance brings some friend to mind,You show the piece, and give the hint,And find each feature in the print:So monstrous like the portrait's found,All know it, and the laugh goes round.Like him I draw from general nature;Is't I or you then fix the satire?So, sir, I beg you spare your painsIn making comments on my strains._40All private slander I detest,I judge not of my neighbour's breast:Party and prejudice I hate,And write no libels on the state.Shall not my fable censure vice,Because a knave is over-nice?And, lest the guilty hear and dread,Shall not the decalogue be read?If I lash vice in general fiction,Is't I apply, or self-conviction?_50Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame,If men in morals are the same?I no man call an ape or ass:Tis his own conscience holds the glass;Thus void of all offence I write;Who claims the fable, knows his right.A shepherd's dog unskilled in sports,Picked up acquaintance of all sorts:Among the rest, a fox he knew;By frequent chat their friendship grew._60Says Reynard—' 'Tis a cruel case,That man should stigmatise our race,No doubt, among us rogues you find,As among dogs, and human kind;And yet (unknown to me and you)There may be honest men and true.Thus slander tries, whate'er it can,To put us on the foot with man,Let my own actions recommend;No prejudice can blind a friend:_70You know me free from all disguise;My honour as my life I prize.'By talk like this, from all mistrustThe dog was cured, and thought him just.As on a time the fox held forthOn conscience, honesty, and worth,Sudden he stopp'd; he cocked his ear;And dropp'd his brushy tail with fear.'Bless us! the hunters are abroad—What's all that clatter on the road?'_80'Hold,' says the dog, 'we're safe from harm;'Twas nothing but a false alarm.At yonder town, 'tis market day;Some farmer's wife is on the way;'Tis so, (I know her pyebald mare)Dame Dobbins, with her poultry ware.'Reynard grew huff. Says he, 'This sneerFrom you I little thought to hear.Your meaning in your looks I see;Pray, what's Dame Dobbins, friend, to me?_90Did I e'er make her poultry thinner?Prove that I owe the Dame a dinner.''Friend,' quoth the cur, 'I meant no harm;Then, why so captious? why so warm?My words in common acceptation,Could never give this provocation.No lamb (for ought I ever knew)May be more innocent than you.'At this, galled Reynard winced and sworeSuch language ne'er was given before:_100'What's lamb to me? the saucy hint—Show me, base knave, which way you squint,If t'other night your master lostThree lambs, am I to pay the cost?Your vile reflections would implyThat I'm the thief. You dog, you lie.''Thou knave, thou fool,' the dog replied,'The name is just, take either side;Thy guilt these applications speak;Sirrah,'tis conscience makes you squeak.'_110So saying, on the fox he flies,The self-convicted felon dies.