THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

W E fhall conclude the number of fables we have taken from Gay with one equal, if not fuperior, to of the kind that have come from his pen. It opens great opportunities for the reader of tafte to display his powers.

any

FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.

The child whom many fathers fhare,
Hath feldom known a father's care.
'Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.

A Hare, who in a civil way,
Complied with ev'ry thing, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
Her care was, never to offend,

And ev'ry creature was her friend.

As forth fhe went, at early dawn,

To taste the dew-befprinkled lawn;

Let there be a good deal of fear and apprehenfion depicted in your looks, in reading the following defcription of the fituation of the hare.

Behind the hears the hunter's cries,

And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies.

She

She ftarts, the ftops, the pants for breath,
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear, fhe gafping lay.

What tranfport in her bofom grew,
When first the horfe appear'd in view!
"Let me," fays fhe, "your back afcend,
"And owe my safety to a friend.
"You know my feet betray my flight;
"To friendship ev'ry burthen's light."
The horse replied, "Poor honeft pufs!
"It grieves my heart to fee thee thus:
"Be comforted, relief is near;
"For all your friends are in the rear.”

She next the stately bull implor'd, And thus replied the mighty lord: "Since ev'ry beast alive can tell "That I fincerely with you well, "I may, without offence, pretend "To take the freedom of a friend. "Love calls me hence; a fav'rité cow

Expects me near yon barley-mow; "And when a lady's in the cafe, "You know all other things give place. "To leave you'thus, may seem unkind; "But fee, the goat is just behind.”

The goat remark'd her pulfe was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye;

My

"My back," fays he, " may do you harm;
"The fheep's at hand, and wool is warm."
The fheep was feeble, and complain'd.
His fides a load of wool fuítain'd:.
Said he was flow, confefs'd his fears,,
For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

She now the trotting calf addrefs'd,,
To fave from death a friend distress'd.
"Shall I," fays he,." of tender age,,
"On this important care engage?
"Older and abler pass'd you.by;.
"How strong are thofe, how weak am I!!
"Should I prefume to bear you hence,
"Thofe friends of mine may take offence:
"Excufe me, then. You know my heart,
"But dearest friends, alas! must part.
"How fhall we all lament! Adieu!

"For, fee, the hounds are juft in view.

We fhall now give a few of those compofitions addressed!

to the female fex, written by Mr. Moore.

They pos-

with fentiOf course,.

fefs a peculiar ease and flow of diction, ments naturally pleafing and unaffected. your mode of reading them ought to be in unifon with. thefe qualities. Let your voice poffefs the fame flow-ing eafy tone, of utterance we recommended in the: perufal of those of Gay; and were we asked to point out any difference, we should fay, that if you blend

more

more elegance in your expreffion and manner in reading Moore's than the others, we think you would keep nearer to the meaning and intended effect of the Author. Fancy yourself, when perufing them, as difcourfing with a lady, fo that your whole look, action, and demeanour ought to be thofe of a gentleman.

THE PANTHER, THE HORSE, AND OTHER BEASTS.

THE man who feeks to win the fair
(So custom fays) must truth forbear;
Muft fawn, and flatter, cringe, and lie,
And raise the goddess to the sky.
For truth is hateful to her ear;

A rudeness which the cannot bear..
A rudeness! Yes. I fpeak my thoughts;.
For truth upbraids her with her faults.

How wretched, Chloe, then am I,

Who love you, and yet cannot lie!
And still, to make you lefs my friend,
I ftrive your errors to amend!
But shall the fenfeless fop impart
The fofteft paffion to your heart;
While he, who tells you honest truth,
And points to happiness your youth,
Determines, by his care, his lot,
And lives neglected and forgot?

Trust me, my dear, with greater eafe,
Your taste for flatt'ry I could please ;

And

And fimiles in each dull line,

Like glow-worms in the dark, fhould fhine.
What if I fay your lips disclose

The freshness of the op'ning rofe?
Or that

your cheeks are beds of flow'rs,
Enripen'd by refreshing show'rs?
Yet certain as these flow'rs fhall fade,
Time ev'ry beauty will invade.

The butterfly of various hue,

More than the flow'r, resembles you;
Fair, flutt'ring, fickle, bufy thing,
To pleasure ever on the wing,
Gaily coquetting for an hour,

To die and ne'er be thought of more.

Would you

the bloom of youth should saft?

'Tis virtue that must bind it fast; An eafy carriage, wholly free From four referve or levity;

Good-natur'd mirth, an open heart,

And looks unskill'd in

any art;

Humility enough to own

The frailties which a friend makes known,

And decent pride enough to know

The worth that virtue can bestow.

Thefe are the charms which ne'er decay,
Tho' youth and beauty fade away;
And time, which all things else removes,
Still heightens virtue and improves.
You'll frown, and afk, to what intent
This blunt addrefs to you is fent?