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"The brave by law of arms we spare, Thou by the hangman shalt expire; 'Tis just, and not at all severe,

To stop the breath that blew the fire.

FABLE II.

THE BALD-PATED WELSHMAN, AND THE FLY.

-Qui non moderabitur iræ,

Infectum volet esse, dolor quod suaserit & mens,
Dum pœnas odio per vim festinat inulto.

A SQUIRE of Wales, whose blood ran higher
Than that of any other squire,
Hasty and hot; whose peevish honour
Reveng'd each slight was put upon her,
Upon a mountain's top one day
Expos'd to Sol's meridian ray;

He fum'd, he rav'd, he curs'd, he swore,
Exhal'd a sea at every pore:
At last, such insults to evade,
Sought the next tree's protecting shade;
Where, as he lay dissolv'd in sweat,
And wip'd off many a rivulet,

Off in a pet the beaver flies,

And flaxen wig, Time's best disguise,
By which, folks of maturer ages

Vie with smooth beaux, and ladies' pages:
Though 'twas a secret rarely known,
Ill-natur'd Age had cropt his crown,
Grubb'd all the covert up, and now
A large smooth plain extends his brow.
Thus as he lay with numskul bare,
And courted the refreshing air,
New persecutions still appear,
A noisy fly offends his ear.

Alas! what man of parts and sense
Could bear such vile impertinence?
Yet so discourteous is our fate,
Fools always buz about the great.
This insect now, whose active spite,
Teaz'd him with never-ceasing bite,
With so much judgment play'd his part,
He had him both in tierce and quart:
In vain with open hands he tries
To guard his ears, his nose, his eyes;
For now at last, familiar grown,
He perch'd upon his worship's crown,
With teeth and claws his skin he tore,
And stuff'd himself with human gore,
At last, in manners to excel,
Untruss'd a point, some authors tell.
But now what rhetoric could assuage
The furious squire, stark mad with rage?
Impatient at the foul disgrace,
From insect of so mean a race;
And plotting vengeance on his foe,
With double fist he aims a blow:

The nimble fly escap'd by flight,

And skip'd from this unequal fight.

Th' impending stroke with all its weight

Fell on his own beloved pate.

Hor.

Thus much he gain'd by this adventurous deed, He foul'd his fingers, and he broke his head.

MORAL.

Let senates hence learn to preserve their state,
And scorn the fool, below their grave debate,
Who by th' unequal strife grows popular and great.

Let him buz on, with senseless rant defy
The wise, the good; yet still 'tis but a fly.
With puny foes the toil 's not worth the cost,
Where nothing can be gain'd, much may be lost
Let cranes and pigmies in mock-war engage,
A prey beneath the generous eagle's rage.
True honour o'er the clouds sublimely wings;
Young Ammon scorns to run with less than kings.

FABLE III.

THE ANT AND THE FLY.

Quem res plus nimio delectavêre secundæ, Mutatæ quatient.

THE careful ant that meanly fares,

And labours hardly to supply,

With wholesome cates and homely tares,
His numerous working family;

Upon a visit met one day

His cousin fly, in all his pride, A courtier insolent and gay,

By Goody Maggot near ally'd:
The humble insect humbly bow'd,
And all his lowest congees paid,
Of an alliance wondrous proud

To such a huffing tearing blade.
The haughty fly look'd big, and swore

He knew him not, nor whence he came;
Huff'd much, and with impatience bore
The scandal of so mean a claim.
"Friend Clodpate, know, 'tis not the mode
At court, to own such clowns as thee,
Nor is it civil to intrude

On flies of rank and quality.

"I-who, in joy and indolence,

Converse with monarchs and grandees, Regaling every nicer sense

With olios, soups, and fricassees;

"Who kiss each beauty's balmy lip,

Or gently buz into her ear, About her snowy bosom skip,

Hor.

And sometimes creep the lord knows where !" The ant, who could no longer bear

His cousin's insolence and pride, Toss'd up his head, and with an air

Of conscious worth, he thus reply'd; "Vain insect! know, the time will come,

When the court-sun no more shall shine,
When frosts thy gaudy limbs benumb,

And damps about thy wings shall twine;
"When some dark nasty hole shall hide
And cover thy neglected head,
When all this lofty swelling pride

Shall burst, and shrink into a shade:
"Take heed, lest Fortune change the scene:
Some of thy brethren I remember,

In June have mighty princes been,
But begg'd their bread before December."

MORAI.

This precious offspring of a t-d
Is first a pimp, and then a lord;
Ambitions to be great, not good,
Forgets his own dear flesh and blood.

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A dog of mettle and of fire,
With Ursin grim, an errant bear,
Maintain'd a long and dubious war:
Oft Ursin on his back was tost,
And Towser many a collop lost;
Capricious Fortune would declare,
Now for the dog, then for the bear.
Thus having try'd their courage fairly,
Brave Ursin first desir'd a parly;

Hor.

"Stout combatant" (quoth he) "whose might
I've felt in many a bloody fight,
Tell me the cause of all this pother,
And why we worry one another?
"That's a moot point," the cur reply'd,
"Our masters only can decide.

While thee and I our hearts blood spill,
They prudently their pockets fill ;
Halloo us on with all their might,
To turn a penny by the fight."
"If that's the case," return'd the bear,
""Tis time at last to end the war;
Thou keep thy teeth, and I my claws,
To combat in a nobler cause;
Sleep in a whole skin, I advise,

And let them bleed, who gain the prize,"

Juv.

MORAL.

Parties enrag'd on one another fall,
The butcher and the bear-ward pocket all.

FABLE VI.

THE WOUNDED MAN, AND THE SWARM OF FLIES.

E malis minimum

SQUALID with wounds, and many a gaping sore,
A wretched Lazár lay distress'd;

A swarm of flies his bleeding ulcers tore,
And ou his putrid carcass feast.

A courteous traveller, who pass'd that way,
And saw the vile Harpeian brood,
Offer'd his help the monstrous crew to slay,
That rioted on human blood.

"Ah! gentle sir," th' unhappy wretch reply'd, "Your well-meant charity refrain;

The angry Gods have that redress deny'd,
Your goodness would increase my pain.
'Fat, and full-fed, and with abundance cloy'd,
But now and then these tyrants feed;

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But were, alas! this pamper'd brood destroy'd, The lean and hungry would succeed."

MORAL.

The body politic must soon decay,
When swarms of insects on its vitals prey;
When blood-suckers of state, a greedy brood,
Feast on our wounds, and fatten with our blood.
What must we do in this severe distress?
Come, doctor, give the patient some redress:
The quacks in politics a change advise,
But cooler counsels should direct the wise.
'Tis hard indeed; but better this, than worse;
Mistaken blessings prove the greatest curse.
Alas! what would our bleeding country gain,
If, when this viperous brood at last is slain,
The teeming Hydra pullulates again;
Seizes the prey with more voracious bite,
To satisfy his hungry appctite?

FABLE VII.

THE WOLF AND THE DOC.

Hunc ego per Syrtes, Libyæque extrema triumphum Ducere maluerim, quam ter capitolia curru Scandere Pompeii, quam frangere colla Jugurthæ.

A PROWLING Wolf that scour'd the plains,
To ease his hunger's griping pains;
Ragged as courtier in disgrace,
Hide-bound, and lean, and out of case;
By chance a well-fed dog espy'd,
And being kin, and near ally'd,
He civilly salutes the cur,
"How do you, cuz? Your servant, sir!
O happy friend! how gay thy mien !
How plump thy sides, how sleek thy skin!
Triumphant plenty shines all o'er,
And the fat melts at every pore!
While I, alas! decay'd and old,
With hunger pin'd, and stiff with cold,
With many a howl, and hideous groan,
Tell the relentless woods my moan.

P 2

Luc.

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 aloud,

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.

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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.

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FABLE X.

THE FROG'S CHOICE.

"Ω πόποι, οιον δη να Θεός βρίζει απιστίζει α

Εξ ημέων γαρ φασι κακ' εμμεναι' οι δε και αυτός

Σφησιν ατασθαλίησιν υπέρ μέρον αλγε έχεσιν

In a wild state of nature, long

The frogs at random liv'd,
The weak a prcy 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,

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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;

Admire 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,

And one coop'd up with one,

'Twas 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 bless.

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 any 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 thesc 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,

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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,
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 ;

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