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The chat on various fubjects ran,
Till angry Hymen thus began:

Relentless Death! whofe iron fway
Mortals reluctant must obey,
Still of thy pow'r fhall I complain,
And thy too partial hand arraign?
When Cupid brings a pair of hearts,
All over ftuck with equal darts,
Thy cruel thafts my hopes deride,
And cut the knot that Hymen tied.

Shall not the bloody and the bold, The mifer hoarding up his gold, The harlot reeking from the ftew, Alone thy fell revenge purfue? But muft the gentle and the kind Thy fury, undiftinguith'd, find?

The monarch calmly thus replied: Weigh well the caufe, and then decide. That friend of yours you lately nam'd, Cupid alone, is to be blam'd; Then let the charge be justly laid: That idle boy neglects his trade, And hardly once in twenty years A couple to your temple bears. The wretches, whom your office blends, Silenus now, or Plutus fends; Hence care, and bitterness, and strife, Are common to the nuptial life.

Believe me! more than all mankind Your vot'ries my compaffion find. Yet cruel ain I call'd, and bafe, Who feck the wretched to releafe; The captive from his bonds to free, Indiffoluble but for me. 'Tis I entice him to the yoke; By me your crowded altars finoke: For mortals boldly dare the neofe, Secure that Death will fet them loofe.

314. FABLE V. The Poet and bis Patron. WHY, Calia, is your spreading waist So loofe, fo negligently lac'd? Why muft the wrapping bed-gown hide Your fnowy bofom's fwelling pride? How ill that drefs adorns your head, Diftain'd and rumpled from the bed! Thofe clouds that fhade your blooming face A little water might difplace, As Nature ev'ry morn bestows The cryftal dew to cleanfe the rofe. Thofe treffes, as the raven black, That wav'd in ringlets down your back, Uncomb'd, and injur'd by neglect, Destroy the face which once they deck'd.

Whence this forgetfulness of drefs?
Pray, Madam, are you married?—Yes.
Nay, then indeed the wonder ceases;
No matter now how loose your drefs is;
The end is won, your fortune 's made;
Your fifter now may take the trade.

Alas! what pity 'tis to find
This fault in half the female kind!
From hence procced averfion, ftrife,
And all that fours the wedded life.

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May horror feize his midnight hour, Who builds upon a parent's pow'r, And claims, by purchafe vile and bafe, The loathing maid for his embrace; Hence virtue fickens; and the breaft, Where peace had built her downy neft, Becomes the troubled feat of care, And pines with anguifh and defpair.

A Wolf, rapacious, rough, and bold, Whofe nightly plunders thinn'd the fold, Contemplating his ill-fpent life, And clov'd with thefts would take a wife. His purpose known, the favage race In numerous crowds attend the place; For why, a mighty wolf he was, And held dominion in his jaws. Her fav'rite whelp each mother brought, And humbly his alliance fought; But cold by age, or elfe too nice, None found acceptance in his eyes.

It happen'd as at early dawn, He folitary crofs'd the lawn, Stray'd from the fold, the fportive Lamb Skipp'd wanton by her fleecy Dam; When Cupid, foe to man and beaft, Ditcharg'd an arrow at his breaft.

The tim'rous breed the robber knew, And trembling o'er the meadow flew; Their nimbleft fpeed the Wolf o'ertook, And courteous thus the Dam bespoke : Stay, faireft, and fufpend your fear, Trust me, no enemy is near: Thefe jaws, in flaughter oft imbru'd, At length have known enough of blood; And kinder bus'nefs brings me now, Vanquish'd, at beauty's feet to bow. You have a daughter-fweet, forgive A Wolf's addrefs-in her I live; Love from her eyes like lightning came, And fet my marrow all on flame; Let your confent confirm my choice, And ratify our nuptial joys.

Me ample wealth and pow'r attend, Wide o'er the plains my realms extend ; What midnight robber dare invade The fold, if I the guard am made? At home the thepherd's cur may seep, While I fecure his mafter's fheep. Difcourfe like this attention claim'd; Grandeur the mother's breaft inflam'd; Now fearless by his fide the walk'd, Of fettlements and jointures talk'd; Propos'd, and doubled her demands, Of flow'ry fields, and turnip-lands. The Wolf agrees. Her bofom fwells; To Mifs her happy fate fhe tells; And, of the grand alliance vain, Contemns her kindred of the plain.

The loathing Lamb with horror hears, And wearies out her Dam with pray'rs; But all in vain, mamma beft knew What unexperienc'd girls should do. So, to the neighb'ring meadow carried, A formal afs the couple married.

Torn from the tyrant mother's fide, The trembler goes, a victim-bride; Reluctant meets the rude embrace, And bleats among the howling race. With horror oft her eyes behold Her murder'd kindred of the fold; Each day a fifter lamb is ferv'd, And at the glutton's table carv'd; The crafhing bones he grinds for food, And flakes his thirft with ftreaming blood. Love, who the cruel mind detefts, And lodges but in gentle breasts, Was now no more. Enjoyment paft, The favage hunger'd for the feast; But (as we find, in human race, A maik conceals the villain's face) Juftice muft authorife the treat; Till then he long'd, but durft not eat.

As forth he walk'd in queft of prey, The hunters met him on the way: Fear wings his flight; the marsh he fought: The fnuffing dogs are fet at fault. His ftomach baulk'd, now hunger gnaws, Howling he grinds his empty jaws: Food must be had, and Lamb is nigh; His maw invokes the fraudful lie. Is this (diffembling rage, he cried) The gentle virtue of a bride? That, leagu'd with man's deftroying race, She fets her husband for the chace By treach'ry prompts the noify hound To fcent his footfteps on the ground? Thou trait'refs vile! for this thy blood Shall glut my rage, and dye the wood!

So faying, on the Lamb he flies: Beneath his jaws the victim dies.


316. FABLE VII. The Goofe and the Swans.
HATE the face, however fair,
That carries an affected air;
The lifping tone, the fhape conftrain'd,
The ftudied look, the paflion feign'd,
Are fopperies which only tend
To injure what they firive to mend.

With what fuperior grace enchants
The face, which nature's pencil paints !
Where eyes, unexercis'd in art,
Glow with the meaning of the heart!
Where freedom and good-humour fit,
And eafy gaiety and wit!
Though perfect beauty be not there,
The mafter lines, the finifh'd air,
We catch from ev'ry look delight,
And grow enamour'd at the fight:
For beauty, though we all approve,
Excites our wonder more than love;
While the agrecable strikes fure,
And gives the wounds we cannot cure.

Why then, my Amoret, this care,
That forms you, in effect, lefs fair?
It nature on your check beftows
A bloom that emulates the rofe,
Or from fome heavenly image drew
A form Apelles never knew,

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Your ill-judged aid will you impart,
And fpoil by me e ricious art?
Or had you, nature's error, come
Abortive from the mother's womb,
Your forming care the ftill rejects,
Which only heightens her defects.
When fuch, of glitt'ring jewels proud,
Still prefs the foremost in the crowd,
At ev'ry public fhow are feen,
With look awry, and awkward mien,
The gaudy drets attracts the eye,
And magnifies deformity.

Nature may underdo her
But feldom wants the help of art;
Truft her, fhe is your fureft friend,
Nor made your form for you to mend.

A Goofe, affected, empty, vain, The thrilleft of the cackling train, With proud and elevated creft, Precedence claim'd above the reft.

Şays fhe; I laugh at human race, Who fay geefe hobble in their pace; Look here!-the fland'rous lye detect;. Not haughty man is fo erect.

That peacock yonder! Lord, how vain
The creature's of his gaudy train !
If both were ftript, I pawn my word
A goofe would be the finer bird.
Nature, to hide her own defects,
Her bungled work with finery decks;
Were geefe fet off with half that show,
Would men admire the peacock? No.

Thus vaunting, 'crofs the mead the stalks,
The cackling breed attend her walks;
The fun fhot down his noon-tide beams,
The Swans were fporting in the ftreams;
Their fnowy plumes and ftately pride
Provok'd her fpleen. Why there, he cried,
Again what arrogance we fee!
Thofe creatures how they mimic me!
Shall ev'ry fowl the water skim,
Because we geefe are known to fwim!
Humility they foon thall learn,
And their own emptines difcern.

So faying, with extended wings, Lightly upon the wave the fprings; Her bofom fwells. The fpreads her plumes, And the fwan's ftately cret affumes. Contempt and mockery enfve, And bursts of laughter fhook the flood.

A Swan, fuperior to the reft, Sprung forth, and thus the fool addrefs'd; Conceited thing, clate with pride! Thy affectation all deride: Thefe airs thy awkwardnefs impart, And thew thee plainly as thou art. Among thy equals of the flock Thou hadit efcap'd the public mock And, as thy parts to good conduce, Been dec.nd an honeft hobbling goofe.



Learn hence to ftudy witdom's Know, foppery 's the pride of fools; And, friving nature to conceal, You only her defects reveal.


§ 317. FABLE VIII. The Lawyer and Juftice.
OVE! thou divineft good below!
Thy pure delights few mortals know:
Our rebel hearts thy fway difown,
While tyrant luft ufurps thy throne.
The bounteous God of nature made
The fexes for each other's aid;
Their mutual talents to employ,
To leffen ills, and heighten joy.
To weaker woman he affign'd
That foft'ning gentleness of mind,
That can by fympathy impart
Its likeness to the rougheft heart.
Her eyes with magic pow'r endued,
To fire the dull, and awe the rude.
His rofy fingers on her face
Shed lavish ev'ry bloomy grace,
And ftamp'd (perfection to display)
His mildeft image on her clay.

Man, active, refolute, and bold,
He fafhion'd in a diff'rent mould,
With useful arts his mind inform'd,
His breaft with nobler paffions warm'd;
He gave him knowledge, tafte, and fenfe,
And courage for the fair's defence.
Her frame, refiftlefs to each wrong,
Demands protection from the ftrong;
To man fhe flies when fear alarms,
And claims the temple of his arms.

By nature's Author thus declar'd
The woman's fov'reign and her guard,
Shall man by treach'rous wiles invade
The weakness he was meant to aid?
While beauty, given to inspire
Protecting love, and foft defire,
Lights up a wild-fire in the heart,
And to its own breast points the dart,
Becomes the fpoiler's bafe pretence
To triumph over innocence.

The wolf, that tears the tim'rous sheep,
Was never fet the fold to keep;
Nor was the tiger, or the pard,
Meant the benighted trav'ller's guard;
But man, the wildest beaft of prey,
Wears friendship's femblance to betray;
His ftrength against the weak employs ;
And where he should protect, deftroys.

Paft twelve o'clock, the watchman cried i
His brief the ftudious Lawyer plied;
The all-prevailing fee lay nigh,
The earneft of to-morrow's lie.
Sudden the furious winds arife,
The jarring cafement fhatter'd flies;
The doors admit a hollow found,
And rattling from their hinges bound;
When Juftice, in a blaze of light,
Reveal'd her radiant form to fight.

The wretch with thrilling horror fhook;
Loose ev'ry joint, and pale his look;
Not having feen her in the courts,
Or found her mention'd in reports,
He afk'd, with fault'ring tongue, her name,
Her errand there, and whence the came?


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The doctor, with important face, By fly design mistakes the case ; Preferibes, and fpins out the difeafe, To trick the patient of his fees.


The foldier, rough with many a fear,
And red with flaughter, leads the war;
If he a nation's trust betray,
The foe has offer'd double
When vice o'er all mankind prevails,
And weighty int'reft turns the fcales,
Muft I be better than the rest,
And harbour Juftice in my breaft ?
On one fide only take the fae,
Content with poverty and thee?


Thou blind to fenfe, and vile of mind,
Th' exafperated Shade rejoin'd,
If virtue from the world is flown,
Will other's faults excufe thy own?
For fickly fouls the priest was made
Phyficians for the body's aid;
The foldier guarded liberty;
Man, woman, and the lawyer me.
If all are faithlefs to their trust,
They leave not thee the lefs unjuft.
Henceforth your pleadings I difclaim,
And bar the fanction of my name;
Within your courts it fhall be read,
That Justice from the law is fied.

She fpoke; and hid in fhades her face,
Till Hardwicke footh'd her into grace.

WHY my dear her angry brow?


What rude offence alarms you now?
I faid that Delia's fair, 'tis true,
But did I fay the equall'd you?

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As at his board a Farmer fate,
Replenish'd by his homely treat,
His fav'rite Spaniel near him flood,
And with his mafter fhar'd the food;
The crackling bones his jaws devour'd,
His lapping tongue the trenchers fcour'd;
Till, fated now, fupine he lay,
And fnor'd the riling fumes away.

The hungry Cat, in turn drew near,
And humbly crav'd a ferva ts fhare;
Her modeft worth the Mafter know,
And ftraight the fart ning morfel threw :
Enrag'd, the foarling Cur awoke,
And thus with fpiteful envy fpoke:

They only claim a right to cat,
Who earn by fervices their neat;
Me, zeal and industry inflame
To fcour the fields, and spring the game;
Or, pivaged in the wint'ry wave,
For man the wounded bird to fave.
With watchrul diligence I keep
From prowling wolves his fleecy fheep;
At home his midnight hours fecure,
And drive the robber from the door :

$318. FABLE IX. The Farmer, the Spaniel, For this is breaft with kindness glows,

and the Cat.

For this his hand the food beftows;
And hall thy indolence impart
A warmer friendfhip to his heart,
That thus he robs me of my due,
To pamper fuch vile things as you !

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As on the margin of the flood,
With filken line, my Lydia ftood,
1 fmil'd to fee the pains the took
To cover o'er the fraudful hook.
Along the foreft as we ftray'd,
You faw the boy his lime-twigs spread ;
Guefs'd you the reafon of his fear,
Left, heedlefs, we approach too near?
For, as behind the bufh we lay,
The linnet flutter'd on the fpray.

Needs there fuch caution to delude
The fcaly fry, and feather'd brood?
And think you, with inferior art,
To captivate the human heart?

The maid who modeftly conceals
Her beauties, while the hides, reveals.
Give but a glimpfe, and fancy draws
Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
From Eve's first fig-leaf to brocade,
All drefs was meant for fancy's aid;
Which evermore delighted dwells
On what the bafhful nymph conceals.

When Celia ftruts in man's attire,
She thews too much to raise defire;
But, from the hoop's bewitching round,
Her very fhoe has pow'r to wound.

The roving eye, the bofom bare, The forward laugh, the wanton air, May catch the fop; for gudgeons strike At the bare hook and bait alike; While falmon play regardlefs by, Till art like nature forms the fly.

Beneath a peafant's homely thatch A Spider long had held her watch; From morn to night, with reftlefs care, She foun her web, and wove her fnare. Within the limits of her reign Lay many a heedlefs captive flain; Or flutt ring ftruggled in the toils, To burft the chains, and thun her wiles.

A ftraying Bee, that perch'd hard by, Beheld her with dildainful eye,

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And thus began: Mean thing! give o'er,
And lay thy lender threads no more;
A thoughtless fly or two, at moft,
Is all the conqueft thou canft boaft;
For becs of fenfe thy arts evade,
We fee fo plain the nets are laid.

The gaudy tulip, that difplays
Her fpreading foliage to gaze;
That points her charms at all the fees,
And yields to ev'ry wanton breeze,
Attracts not me; where blufhing grows,
Guarded with thorns, the modest rose,
Enamour'd, round and round I fly,
Or on her fragrant bofom lie;
Reluctant the my ardour meets,
And bathful renders up her fweets.

To wifer heads attention lend,
And learn this leffon from a friend:
She who with modefty retires,
Adds fuel to her lover's fires;
While fuch incautious jilts as you
By folly your own fchemes undo.

§ 320. FABLE XI. The Young Lion and the Ape.
"TIS true, I blame your lover's choice,
Though flatter'd by the public voice;
And peevith grow, and fick, to hear
His exclamations, O how fair!
I liften not to wild delights,
And tranfports of expected nights;
What is to me your hoard of charms,
The whiteness of your neck and arms?
Needs there no acquifition more
To keep contention from the door?
Yes; pafs a fortnight, and you'll find
All beauty cloys but of the mind.

Senfe and good-humour ever prove The fureft cords to faften love. Yet, Phillis, fimpleft of your fex, You never think but to perplex; Coquetting it with ev'ry ape That ftruts abroad in human fhape; Not that the coxcomb is your taste. But that it ftings your lover's breast. To-morrow you refign the fway, Prepar'd to honour and obey. The tyrant miftrefs change for life, To the fubmiffion of a wife.

Your follies, if you can, fufpend, And learn inftruction from a friend;

Reluctant hear the firft addrefs, Think often ere you anfwer Yes; But, once refolv'd, throw off difguife, And wear your wishes in your eyes; With caution ev'ry look forbear That might create one jealous fear, A lover's ripening hopes confound, Or give the gen'rous breaft a wound; Contemn the girlish arts to teaze, Nor ufe your pow'r, unless to please ; For fools alone with rigour fway, When, foon or late, they must obey.

The King of brutes, in life's decline, Refolv'd dominion to refign;


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