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As Doris, at her toilet's duty,
Sat meditating on her beauty,

She now was penfive, now was gay,
And loll'd the fultry hours away.
As thus in indolence the lies,
A giddy Wafp around her flies.
He now advances, now retires,
Now to her neck and cheek afpires.
Her fan in vain defends her charms;
Swift he returns, again alarms;
For by repulfe he bolder grew,
Perch'd on her lip, and fipp'd the dew.

She frowns, the frets. Good gods! fhe cries,
Protect me from these teazing flies!
Of all the plagues that Heaven hath fent,
A Wafp is moft impertinent.

The hov'ring infect thus complain'd:
Am I then flighted, scorn'd, difdain'd ?
Can fuch offence your anger wake?
'Twas beauty caus'd the bold mistake.
Thofe cherry lips that breathe perfume,
That cheek fo ripe with youthful bloom,
Made me with ftrong defire pursue
The faireft peach that ever grew.

Strike him not, Jenny, Doris cries,
Nor murder Wafps like vulgar flies:
For though he's free (to do him right)
The creature's civil and polite.

In ecftafies away he posts;
Where'er he came the favour boasts;
Brags how her fwecteft tea he fips,
And fhews the fugar on his lips.

The hint alarm'd the forward crew;
Sure of fuccefs, away they flew.
They share the dainties of the day,
Round her with airy mufic play;
And now they flutter, now they reft,
Now foar again, and fkim her breaft.
Nor were they banifh'd till the found
That Wafps have ftings, and felt the wound.

131. Fable IX. The Bull and the Maftiff. SEEK you to train your fav'rite boy?

Each caution, ev'ry care employ:
And ere you venture to confide,
Let his preceptor's heart be tried:
Weigh well his manners, life, and scope;
On thefe depends thy future hope.
As on a time, in peaceful reign,
A Bull enjoy'd the flow'ry plain,
A Mastiff pafs'd; inflam'd with ire,
His eye-balls shot indignant fire;
He foam'd, he rag'd with thirft of blood,
Spurning the ground the monarch stood,
And roar'd aloud-Suspend the fight;
In a whole skin go fleep to-night:
Or tell me, ere the battle rage,
What wrongs provoke thee to engage?
Is it ambition fires thy breast,
Or avarice, that ne'er can reft?
From thefe alone unjustly springs
The world-deftroying wrath of kings.
The furly Maftiff thus returns:
Within my bofom glory burns.

Like heroes of eternal name,
Whom poets fing, I fight for fame.
The butcher's fpirit-ftirring mind
To daily war my youth inclin'd;
He train'd me to heroic deed;
Taught me to conquer, or to bleed.

Cuis'd Dog! the Bull replied; no more I wonder at thy thirst of gore;

For thou (beneath a butcher train'd,
Whofe hands with cruelty are ftain'd,
His daily murders in thy view)
Muft, like thy tutor, blood purfue.
Take then thy fate. With goring wound,
At once he lifts him from the ground;
Aloft the sprawling hero flies;

Mangled he falls, he howls, and dies.

§ 132. Fable X. The Elephant and the Bookfeller, THE man who with undaunted toils

Sails unknown feas to unknown foils,
With various wonders feafts his fight:
What ftranger wonders does he write!
We read, and in description view
Creatures which Adam never knew:
For, when we risk no contradiction,
It prompts the tongue to deal in fiction,
Thofe things that startle me or you,
I grant are ftrange, yet may be true.
Who doubts that Elephants are found
For fcience and for fenfe renown'd?
Borri records their ftrength of parts,
Extent of thought, and kill in arts;
How they perform the law's decrees,
And fave the ftate the hangman's fees;
And how by travel understand
The language of another land.
Let thofe who queftion this report,
To Pliny's ancient page refort:
How learn'd was that fagacious breed;
Who now like them the Greek can read !
As one of thefe, in days of yore,
Rummag'd a fhop of learning o'er;
Not, like our modern dealers, minding
Only the margin's breadth and binding;
A book his curious eye detains,
Where with exacteft care and pains
Were ev'ry beaft and bird portray'd,
That e'er the fearch of man furvey'd.
Their natures and their pow'rs were writ
With all the pride of human wit.
The page he with attention spread,
And thus remark'd on what he read :
Man with strong reafon is endow'd;
A beast scarce inftinct is allow'd.
But let this author's work be tried;
'Tis plain that neither was his guide.
Can he difcern the different natures,
And weigh the pow'r of other creatures,
Who by the partial work hath fhewn
He knows fo little of his own?
How falfely is the fpaniel drawn!
Did man from him first learn to fawn?
A dog proficient in the trade!

He the chief flatt'rer nature made!

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Go, Man, the ways of courts difcern,
You'll find a fpaniel ftill might learn.
How can the Fox's theft and plunder
Provoke his cenfure or his wonder?
From courtiers tricks, and lawyers arts,
The fox might well improve
his
parts.
The lion, wolf, and tiger's brood,
He curfes for their thirft of blood:
But is not man to man a prey?
Beafts kill for hunger, men for pay.

The Bookfeller, who heard him fpeak,
And faw him turn a page of Greek,
Thought, what a genius have I found!
Then thus addrefs'd with bow profound :
Learn'd Sir, if you'd employ your pen
Against the fenfelefs fons of men,
Or write the hiftory of Siam,
No man is better pay than I am;

Or, fince you're learn'd in Greck, let's fee Something against the Trinity.

When, wrinkling with a fneer his trunk, Friend, quoth the Elephant, you're drunk; E'en keep your money, and be wife: Leave man on man to criticife; For that you ne'er can want a pen Among the fenfelefs fons of men. They unprovok'd will court the fray : Envy's a fharper fpur than pay. No author ever fpar'd a brother; Wits are game-cocks to one another.

But fuch blind critics rail in vain :
What! overlook my radiant train !
Know, did my legs (your fcorn and sport)
The Turkey or the Goofe fupport,
And did ye fcream with harsher found,
Thofe faults in you had ne'er been found Į
To all apparent beauties blind,

Each blemish ftrikes an envious mind.
Thus in affemblies have I feen
A nymph of brightest charms and mien
Wake envy in each ugly face;

And buzzing fcandal fills the place.

§ 134. Fable XII. Cupid, Hymen, and Plutus. AS Cupid in Cythera's grove

Employ'd the lefler pow'rs of love;
Some shape the bow, or fit the ftring;
Some give the taper shaft its wing,
Or turn the polish'd quiver's mould,
Or head the darts with temper'd gold.

Amidft their toil and various care,
Thus Hymnen, with affuming air,
Addrefs'd the God: Thou purblind chit,
Of aukward and ill-judging wit,
If matches are not better made,
At once I muft forfwear my trade.
You fend me fuch ill-coupled folks,
That 'tis a fhame to fell them yokes ;
They fquabble for a pin, a feather,
And wonder how they came together

§ 133. Fable XI. The Peacock, the Turkey, The husband's fullen, dogged, thy;

and the Goofe.

IN beauty faults confpicuous grow;
The finalleft fpeck is feen on fnow.
As near a barn, by hunger led,
A Peacock with the poultry fed;
All view'd him with an envious eye,
And mock'd his gaudy pageantry.
He, confcious of fuperior merit,
Contemns their bafe reviling fpirit;
His ftate and dignity affumes,
And to the fun difplays his plumes;

Which, like the heavens' o'er-arching skies,
Are fpangled with a thousand eyes.
The circling rays, and varied light,
At once confound their dazzled fight:
On ev'ry tongue detraction burns,
And malice
their spleen by turns.
prompts
Mark with what infolence and pride
The creature takes his haughty ftride,
The Turkey cries. Can fpleen contain ?
Sure never bird was half fo vain!
But, were intrinfic merit feen,
We Turkeys have the whiter skin.

From tongue to tongue they caught abuse;
And next was heard the hiffing Goofe:
What hideous legs! what filthy claws!
I fcorn to cenfure little flaws.

Then what a horrid fqualling throat!
Ev'n owls are frighted at the note.

Truc-thofe are faults, the Peacock crics; My fcream, my thanks, you may despise:

The wife grows flippant in reply;
He loves command and due restriction,
And the as well likes contradiction:
She never flavishly fubmits;

She'll have her will, or have her fits:
He this way tugs, the t' other draws;
The man grows jealous, and with caufe
Nothing can fave him but divorce;
And here the wife complies of course.
When, fays the boy, had I to do
With either your affairs or you?
I never idly spent my darts;
You trade in mercenary hearts.
For fettlements the lawyer's feed;
Is my hand witnefs to the deed è
If they like cat and dog agree,
Go rail at Plutus, not at me.

Plutus appear'd, and faid—'Tis true,
In marriage gold is all their view;
They feek no beauty, wit, or fenfe;
And love is feldom the pretence.
All offer incente at my thine,
And I alone the bargain fign.
How can Belinda blame her fate?
She only afk'd a great estate.
Doris was rich enough, 'tis true;
Her lord must give her title too :
And ev'ry man, or rich or poor,
A fortune afks, and afks no more.
Avrice, whatever shape it bears,
Must still be coupled with its cares.

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The branches held his antlers faft; A clown, who faw the captive hung, Across the horns his halter flung.

Now fafely hamper'd in the cord, He bore the prefent to his lord. His lord was pleas'd; as was the clown, When he was tipp'd with half-a-crown. The Stag was brought before his wife; The tender lady begg'd his life.

How fleek's the fkin! how fpeck'd like ermine!
Sure never creature was fo charming!

At first, within the yard confin'd,
He flies, and hides from all mankind;
Now, bolder grown, with fix'd amaze,
And diftant awe, prefumes to gaze :
Munches the linen on the lines,
And on a hood or apron dines;
He fteals my little mafter's bread,
Follows the fervants to be fed :
Nearer and nearer now he stands,
To feel the praise of patting hands ;
Examines every fift for meat,
And, though repuls'd, disdains retreat;
Attacks again with levell'd horns;
And man, that was his terror, fcorns.
Such is the country maiden's fright,
When firft a red-coat is in fight;
Behind the door the hides her face
Next time at distance eyes the lace;
She now can all his terrors ftand,
Nor from his fqueeze withdraws her hand.
She plays familiar in his arms,
And ev'ry foldier hath his charms.
From tent to tent the fpreads her flame
For cuftom conquers fear and shame.

;

;

The hairy fylvans round him prefs, Aftonifh'd at his ftrut and drefs. Some praise his fleeve; and others glote Upon his rich embroider'd coat; His dapper perriwig commending, With the black tail behind depending 3 His powder'd back, above, below, Like hoary froft, or fleecy fnow; But all with envy and defire His flutt'ring fhoulder-knot admire. Hear and improve, he pertly cries; I come to make a nation wife.

Weigh your own worth, fupport your place,
The next in rank to human race.,
In cities long I pafs'd my days,
Convers'd with men, and learn'd their ways.
Their drefs, their courtly manners fee;
Reform your state, and copy me.
Seek ye to thrive in flatt'ry deal;
Your fcorn, your hate, with that conccal.
Seem only to regard your friends,
But ufe them for your private ends.
Stint not to truth the flow of wit;
Be prompt to lye whene'er 'tis fit.
Bend all your force to fpatter merit;
Scandal is converfation's fpirit.
Boldly to ev'ry thing attend,
And men your talents fhall commend.
I knew the great. Obferve me right;
So fhall you grow like man polite.

He fpoke, and bow'd. With mutt'ring jaws
The wond'ring circle grinn'd applaufe.
Now, warm with malice, envy, fpite,
Their moft obliging friends they bite;
And, fond to copy human ways,
Practife new mitchiefs all their days.
Thus the dull lad, too tall for school,
With travel finishes the fool;

Studious of ev'ry coxcomb's airs,

§ 136. Fable XIV. The Monkey who bad feen He drinks, games, dreffes, whores, and swears;

the World.

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Refolv'd to vifit foreign climes:

For men in diftant regions roam
To bring politer manners home.
So forth he fares, all toil defies;
Misfortune ferves to makes us wife.

At length the treach`rous fnare was laid;
Poor Pug was caught, to town convey'd,
There fold. How envied was his doom,
Made captive in a lady's room!
Proud as a lover of his chains,
He day by day her favour gains.
Whene'er the duty of the day
The toilet calls, with mimic play
He twirls her knots, he cracks her fan,
Like any other gentleman.
In vifits too his parts and wit,
When jefts grew dull, were fure to hit.
Proud with applaufe, he thought his mind
In ev'ry courtly art refin'd;

Like Orpheus burnt with public zeal,
To civilize the monkey weal:
So watch'd occafion, broke his chain,
And fought his native woods agains

O'erlooks with fcorn all virtuous arts; For vice is fitted to his parts.

§ 137. Fable XV. The Philofopher and the Pheasants.

THE Sage, awak'd at early day,

Thro' the deep forest took his way;
Drawn by the mufic of the groves,
Along the winding gloom he roves :
From tree to tree the warbling throats
Prolong the fweet alternate notes.
But where he pafs'd he terror threw ;
The fong broke short, the warblers flew;
The thrushes chatter'd with affright,
And nightingales abhorr'd his fight;
All animals before him ran,
To fhun the hateful fight of man.

Whence is this dread of ev'ry creature?
Fly they our figure, or our nature?

As thus he walk'd in mufing thought,
His ear imperfect accents caught;
With cautious ftep he nearer drew:
By the thick fhade conceal'd from view,
High on the branch a Pheasant stood;
Around her all her lift wing brood;

น 3

Proud

Proud of the bleffings of her neft,
She thus a mother's care exprefs'd:
No dangers here fhall circumvent;
Within the woods enjoy content.
Sooner the hawk or vulture truft
Than man, of animals the worst;
In him ingratitude you find;
A vice peculiar to the kind.

The theep, whofe annual fleece is dyed
To guard his health, and ferve his pride,
Forc'd from his fold and native plain,
Is in the cruel fhambles flain.

The fwarms who, with induftrious skill,
His hives with wax and honey fill,
In vain whole fummer days employ'd,
Their ftores are fold, their race destroy'd,
What tribute from the goofe is paid!
Does not her wing all fcience aid?
Does it not lovers hearts explain,
And drudge to raife the merchant's gain?
What now rewards this gen'ral ufe?
He takes the quills, and eats the goofe.
Man then avoid, deteft his ways;
So fafety fhall prolong your days.
When fervices are thus acquitted,
Be fure we Pheasants must be fpitted.

$138. Fable XVI. The Pin and the Needle. APIN, who long had ferv'd a beauty,

Proficient in the toilet's duty,
Had form'd her fleeve, confin'd her hair,
Or given her knot a smarter air,
Now nearest to her heart was plac'd,
Now in her mantua's tail difgrac'd:
But could the partial fortune blame,
Who faw her lover ferv'd the fame ?

At length, from all her honours caft,
Through various turns of life the pass'd;
Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm ;
Now kept a beggar's infant warm;
Now, rang'd within a mifer's coat,
Contributes to his yearly great;
Now r is'd again from low approach,
She vifits in the doctor's coach;
Here, there, by various fortune toft,
At laft in Grelham-hall was loft.
Charm'd with the wonders of the show,
On every fide, above, below,

She now of this or that enquires;
What leaft was understood admires.
'Tis plain, each thing fo ftruck her mind,
Her head's of virtuofo kind.

And pray what's this, and this, dear Sir?
A needle, fays th' interpreter.
She knew the name: and thus the fool
Addrefs'd her as a taylor's tool:

A needle with that filthy fione,
Quite idle, all with ruft o'ergrown!
You better might employ your parts,
And aid the fempftrefs in her arts.
But tell me how the friendship grew
Between that paltry flint and you?

Friend, fays the Needle, ceafe to blame; I follow real worth and fame.

Know'st thou the loadstone's pow'r and art,
That virtue virtues can impart ?

Of all his talents I partake;

Who then can fuch a friend forfake?

'Tis I direct the pilot's hand

To fhun the rocks and treach'rous fand;
By me the distant world is known,
And either India is our own.

Had I with milliners been bred,
What had I been? the guide of thread.
And drudg'd as vulgar Needles do,
Of no more confequence than you.

§ 139. Fable XVII. The Shepherd's Dog and the Wolf.

A

WOLF, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravag'd the plains, and thinn'd the fold; Deep in the wood fecure he lay;

The thefts of night regal'd the day.
In vain the fhepherd's wakeful care

Had fpread the toils, and watch'd the fnare:
In vain the Dog purfued his pace;
The fleeter robber mock'd the chace.
As Lightfoot rang'd the forest round,
By chance his foc's retreat he found.
A truce, replies the Wolf. 'Tis done.
The Dog the parley thus begun :

How can that strong intrepid mind
Attack a weak defencelefs kind?
Thofe jaws fhould prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood;
Great fouls with gen'rous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt.
How harmlefs is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy fpare.
Friend, fays the Wolf, the matter weigh
Nature defign'd us beasts of prey;
As fuch, when hunger finds a treat,
'Tis neceffary wolves fhould eat.
If, mindful of the bleating weal,
Thy bofom burn with real zeal,
Hence, and thy tyrant lord befeech;
To him repeat the moving fpeech:
A Wolf eats fheep but now and then. ;
Ten thoufands are devour'd by men.
An open foe may prove a curfe;
But a pretended friend is worse.

§ 140. Fable XVIII. The Painter who pleased nobody and every body.

LEST men fufpect your tale untrue,
Keep probability in view.

The trav'ller leaping o'er thofe bounds,
The credit of his book confounds.
Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes ev'n his real courage doubted:
But flatt'ry never feems abfurd,
The flatter'd always take your word:
Impoffibilities feem juft;

They take the ftrongeft praife on truft,
Hyperboles, tho' ne'er fo great,
Will Atill come fhort of felf-conceit,

So very like a painter drew,
That ev'ry eye the picture knew i

He

He hit complexion, feature, air,
So juft, the life itself was there.
No flatt ry with his colours laid,
To bloom reftor'd the faded maid;
He gave each muscle all its ftrength;
The mouth, the chin, the nofe's length,
His honeft pencil touch'd with truth,
And mark'd the date of age and youth.
He loft his friends, his practice fail'd;
Truth fhould not always be reveal'd;
In dufty piles his pictures lay,
For no one fent the second pay.
Two buftos, fraught with ev'ry grace,
A Venus' and Apollo's face,

He plac'd in view; refolv'd to please
Whoever fat, he drew from these;
From these corrected ev'ry feature,
And fpirited each aukward creature.
All things were fet; the hour was come,
His pallet ready o'er his thumb,
My Lord appear'd; and, feated right
In proper attitude and light,

The painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,
Then dipp'd his pencil, talk'd of Greece,
Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;
Thofe eyes, my Lord, the spirit there
Might well a Raphael's hand require,
To give them all the native fire;
The features fraught with fenfe and wit,
You'll grant are very hard to hit ;
But yet with patience you fhall view
As much as paint and art can do.

Obferve the work. My Lord replied,
Till now I thought my mouth was wide;
Befides, my nofe is fomewhat long;
Dear Sir, for me 'tis far too young.
Oh pardon me! the artift cried,
In this the painters must decide.

The piece even common eyes must strike;
I warrant it extremely like.

My Lord examin'd it anew;
No looking-glafs feem'd half so true.
A Lady came; with borrow'd grace
He from his Venus form'd her face.
Her lover prais'd the Painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
To ev'ry age fome charm he lent;
Ev'n beauties were almoft content.

Thro' all the town his art they prais'd;
His cuftom grew, his price was rais'd.
Had he the real likenefs fhewn,
Would any man the picture own?
But when thus happily he wrought,
Each found the likenefs in his thought.

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Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit‐
In hopes to be fupreme in wit.
If thefe can read, to thefe I write,
To fet their worth in trueft light.
A Lion-cub, of fordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;
Fond of applaufe, he fought the feasts
Of vulgar and ignoble beafts;
With asses all his time he spent ;
Their club's perpetual prefident.
He caught their manners, looks, and airs;
An afs in ev'ry thing but ears!
If e'er his highnefs meant a joke,
They grinn'd applause before he spoke;
But at each word what fhouts of praife!
Good gods! how natural he brays!
Elate with flatt'ry and conceit,
He feeks his royal fire's retreat;
Forward, and fond to fhew his parts,
His highnefs brays; the Lion ftarts:
Puppy! that curs'd vociferation
Betrays thy life and converfation:
Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race,
Are trumpets of their own difgrace.
Why fo fevere the Cub replies;
Our fenate always held me wife.

How weak is pride! returns the fire;
All fools are vain when fools admire!
But know, what ftupid affes prize,
Lions and noble beafts defpife.

§ 142.
RESTRAIN your child; you'll foon believe
The text which fays, We fprung from Eve.*
As an old Hen led forth her train,
And feem'd to peck to thew the grain;
She rak'd the chaff, the fcratch'd the ground,
And glean'd the spacious yard around.
A giddy chick, to try her wings,
On the well's narrow inargin fprings,
And prone the drops. The mother's breast
All day with forrow was poffefs'd.

Fable XX. The Old Hen and the Cock.

A Cock the met; her fon fhe knew,
And in her heart affection grew.

My fon, fays fhe, I grant your years
Have reach'd beyond a mother's cares.
I fee you vig'rous, strong, and bold;
I hear with joy your triumphs told.
'Tis not from Cocks thy fate I dread;
But let thy ever-wary tread
Avoid yon well; the fatal place
Is fure perdition to our race.

Print this my counfel on thy breast;
To the juft gods I leave the rett.

He thanked her care; yet day by day
His bofom burn'd to difobey;
And ev'ry time the well he faw,
Scorn'd in his heart the foolish law;
Near and more near each day he drew,
And long'd to try the dang 'rous view,
Why was this idle charge? he cries;
Let courage female fears defpife.
Or did the doubt my heart was brave,
And therefore this injunction gave?

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