At others woes be taught to melt,
And loath the ills himfelf has felt.

He poke; his bofom fwell'd with pride. The youthful Lion thus reply'd:

What madness prompts thee to provoke My wrath, and dare th'impending stroke? Thou wretched fool! can wrongs impart Compaffion to the feeling heart? Or teach the grateful breaft to glow, The hand to give, or eye to flow? Learn'd in the practice of their schools, From women thou haft drawn thy rules; To them return; in fuch a cause, [From only fuch expect applaufe; The partial fex I don't condemn, For liking thofe who copy them. Would't thou the gen'rous lion bind? By kindhefs bribe him to be kind; Good offices their likeness get, And payment leffens not the debt; With multiplying hand he gives The good, from others he receives; Or, for the bad makes fair return, And pays with int'reft fcorn for fcorn.

§ 197. Fable XII. The Colt and the Farmer. TELL me, Corinna, if you can,

Why fo averfe, fo coy to man?

Did nature, lavish of her care,
From her beft pattern form you fair,
That you, ungrateful to her caufe,
Should mock her gifts, and fpurn her laws?
And, mifer-like, with-hold that store
Which, by imparting, bleffes more?
Beauty's a gift, by Heav'n affign'd
The portion of the female kind;
For this the yielding maid demands
Protection at her lover's hands;
And though by wafting years it fade,
Remembrance tells him, once 'twas paid.
And will you then this wealth conceal,
For age to ruft, or time to feal?
The fummer of your youth to rove
A ftranger to the joys of love?
Then, when life's winter haftens on,
And youth's fair heritage is gone,
Dow'rlefs to court fome peafant's arms,
To guard your wither'd age from harms;
No gratitude to warm his breast
For blooming beauty once poffeft;
How will you curfe that ftubborn pride
Which drove your bark across the tide,
And failing before folly's wind,
Left fenfe and happiness behind!
Corinna, left these whims prevail,
To fuch as you I write my tale.

A Colt, for blood and mettled speed,
The choiceft of the running breed,
Of youthful ftrength, and beauty vain,
Refus'd fubjection to the rein.
In vain the groom's officious skill
Oppos'd his pride and check'd his will;
In vain the mafter's forming care

Reftrain'd with threats, or footh'd with pray'r;

Of freedom proud, and fcorning man,
Wild o'er the fpacious plains he ran.

Where'er luxuriant nature fpread
Her flow'ry carpet o'er the mead,
Or bubbling ftreams foft-gliding pass,
To cool and freshen up the grafs,
Difdaining bounds, he cropt the blade,
And wanton'd in the fpoil he made.

In plenty thus the fummer pafs'd,
Revolving winter came at laft;
The trees no more a shelter vield,
The verdure withers from the field,
Perpetual fnows inveft the ground,
In icy chains the streams are bound,
Cold nipping winds, and rattling hail,
His lank, unfhelter'd fides affail.
As round he caft his rueful eyes,
He faw the thatch'd-roof cottage rife;
The profpect touch'd his heart with cheer,
And promis'd kind deliv'rance near
A ftable, erft his fcorn and hate,
Was now become his wifh'd retreat;
His paffion cool, his pride forgot,
A Farmer's welcome yard he fought,

The mafter faw his woful plight, His limbs that totter'd with his weight, And, friendly, to the stable led, And faw him litter'd, drefs'd, and fed. In flothful eafe all night he lay; The fervants rofe at break of day; The market calls. Along the road His back muft bear the pond'rous load; In vain he struggles, or complains, Inceffant blows reward his pains. To-morrow varies but his toil; Chain'd to the plough, he breaks the foil; While fcanty meals at night repay The painful labours of the day.

Subdu'd by toil, with anguifh rent,
His felf-upbraidings found a vent.
Wretch that I am! he fighing faid,
By arrogance and folly led:

Had but my reftive youth been brought
To learn the leffon nature taught,
Then had I, like my fires of yore,
The prize from ev'ry courfer bore;
While man beftow'd rewards and praise,
And females crown'd my latter days.
Now lafting fervitude's my lot,
My birth contemn'd, my speed forgot;
Doom'd am I, for my pride, to bear
A living death, from year to year.

And burns with ardour, to inherit
The gifts and workings of the fpirit.
If learning crack her giddy brains,
No remedy but death remains.
Sum up the various ills of life,
And all are fwect to fuch a wife.
At home fuperior wit the vaunts,
And twits her husband with his wants;
Her ragged offspring all around,
Like pigs, are wallowing on the ground;
Impatient ever of control,
She knows no order but of foul;
With books her litter'd floor is spread,
Of nameless authors, never read;
Foul linen, petticoats, and lace,
Fill up the intermediate space.
Abroad, at vifitings, her tongue
Is never ftill, and always wrong;
All meanings the defines away,

And ftands with truth and fenfe at bay.

If c'er the meets a gentle heart,

Skill'd in the housewife's ufeful art,
Who makes her family her care,
And builds contentment's temple there,
She ftarts at fuch mistakes in nature,

And cries, Lord help us!-- what a creature!
Meliffa, if the moral ftrike,

You'll find the fable not unlike.

An Owl, puff'd up with felf-conceit,
Lov'd learning better than his meat;
Old manufcripts he treafur'd up,
And ruinmag'd every grocer's fhop;
At paftry-cooks was known to ply,
And ftrip for foience every pye.
For modern poetry and wit,
He had read all that Blackmore writ:
So intimate with Curl was grown,
His learned treafures were his own;
To all his author's had accefs,
And fometimes would correct the prefs.
In logic he acquir'd fuch knowledge,
You'd fwear him fellow of a college;
Alike to ev'ry art and science,
His daring genius bid defiance,

And fwallow'd wifdom with that hafte
That cits do cuftards at a feast.

Within the fhelter of a wood,
One ev❜ning, as he mufing ftood,
Hard by, upon a leafy spray,
A Nightingale began his lay.
Sudden he starts, with anger ftung,
And fcreeching, interrupts the fong:
Pert, bufy thing, thy airs give o'er,
And let my contemplation foar.
What is the mufic of thy voice,
But jarring diffonance and noife?
Be wife. True harmony thou❜lt find
Not in the throat, but in the mind;
By empty chirping not attain'd,
But by laborious ftudy gain'd.
Go, read the author's Pope explodes;
Fathom the depth of Cibber's Odes;
With modern plays improve thy wit;
Read all the learning Henley writ;

And if thou needs must fing, fing then,
And emulate the ways of men ;
So fhalt thou grow, like me, refin'd,
And bring improvement to thy kind.
Thou wretch, the little Warbler cry'd,
Made up of ignorance and pride,
Afk all the birds, and they'll declare,
A greater blockhead wings not air.
Read o'er thyself, thy talents fcan;
Science was only meant for man.
No fenfelefs authors me moieft,
I mind the duties of my neft;
With careful wing protect my young,
And cheer their ev'nings with a fong;
Make short the weary trav'ller's way,
And warble in the poet's lay.

Thus, following nature and her laws, From men and birds I claim applause; While, nurs'd in pedantry and floth, An Owl is fcorn'd alike by both.

199. Fable XIV. The Sparrow and the Dove

IT was, as learn'd traditions fay,

Upon an April's blithefome day,
When pleature, ever on the wing,
Return'd, companion of the fpring,
And cheer'd the birds with am'rous heat,
Inftructing little hearts to beat;
A Sparrow, frolic, gay, and young,
Of bold addrefs, and flippant tongue,
Juft left his lady of a night,
Like him to follow new delight.

The youth, of many a conqueft vain,
Flew off to feck the chirping train;
The chirping train he quickly found,
And with a faucy cafe bow'd round.
For ev'ry the his bosom burns,
And this and that he woos by turns;
And here a figh, and there a bill;
And here- thofe eyes, fo form'd to kill!
And now, with ready tongue, he ftrings
Unmeaning, foft, refiftlefs things;
With vows, and dem-me's skill'd to woo,
As other pretty fellows do.

Not that he thought this fhort effay
A prologue needful to his play;
No, truft me, fays our learned letter,
He knew the virtuous fex much better;
But thefe he held as fpecious arts,
To fhew his own fuperior parts,
The form of decency to fhield,
And give a juft pretence to yield.

Thus finishing his courtly play,
He mark'd the fav'rite of a day;
With carclefs impudence drew near,
And whifper'd Hebrew in her car;
A hint, which like the mafon's fign,
The confcious can alone divine.

The flutt'ring nymph, expert at feigning, Cry'd, Sir !-pray Sir, explain your meaning. Go prate to thofe that may endure ye— To me this rudenefs !-I'll affure ye!

Then

Then off the glided, like a swallow,
As faying-you guefs where to follow.
To fuch as know the party fet,
'Tis needlefs to declare they met ;
The parfon's barn, as authors mention,
Confefs'd the fair had apprehenfion.
Her honour there fecure from stain,
She held all farther trifling vain;
No more affected to be coy,
But rufh'd licentious on the joy.

Hift, Love!—the male companion cry'd,
Retire a while; I fear we're spy'd.
Nor was the caution vain; he faw
A Turtle rustling in the straw,
While o'er her callow brood the hung,
And fondly thus addrefs'd her young :
Ye tender objects of my care!
Peace, peace, ye little helpless pair;
Anon he comes, your gentle fire,
And brings you all your hearts require.
For us, his infants and his bride,
For us, with only love to guide,
Our lord affumes an eagle's speed,
And, like a lion, dares to bleed.
Nor yet by wint'ry fkies confin'd,
He mounts upon the rudeft wind,
From danger tears the vital spoil,
And with affection fweetens toil.
Ah cease, too vent'rous! ceafe to dare;
In thine, our dearer fafety fpare!
From him, ye cruel falcons, ftray,
And turn, ye fowlers, far away!

Should I furvive to fee the day
That tears me from myself away,
That cancels all that Heav'n could give,
The life by which alone I live,
Alas, how more than loft were I,
Who in the thought already die!

Ye Pow'rs, whom men and birds obey,
Great rulers of your creatures, fay,
Why mourning comes, by blifs convey'd,
And ev❜n the fweets of love allay'd?
Where grows enjoyment, tall and fair,
Around it twines entangling care;
While fear for what our fouls poffefs
Enervates ev'ry pow'r to blefs;
Yet friendship forms the blifs above;
And, life! what art thou without love?
Our hero, who had heard apart,
Felt fomething moving in his heart;
But quickly, with difdain fuppreft
The virtue rifing in his breaft;
And firft he feign'd to laugh aloud;
And next, approaching, finil'd and bow'd:
Madam you must not think me rude;
Good manners never can intrude;
I vow I come thro' pure good nature-
(Upon my foul a charming creature!)
Are these the comforts of a wife?
This careful, cloifter'd, moping life?
No doubt, that odious thing, call'd Duty,
Is a fweet province for a beauty.
Thou pretty ignorance! thy will
Is meafur'd to thy want of skill;

That good old-fashion'd dame, thy mother, Has taught thy infant years no other — (The greatest ill in the creation

Is fure the want of education.

But think ye-tell me without feigning, Have all thefe charms no farther meaning? Dame nature, if you don't forget her, Might teach your ladyship much better. For fhame, reject this mean employment; Enter the world, and taste enjoyment; Where time by circling blifs we measure: Beauty was form'd alone for pleafure; Come, prove the bleffing, follow me, Be wife, be happy, and be free.

Kind Sir, reply'd our matron chaste, Your zeal feems pretty much in hafte; I own, the fondness to be bleft Is a deep thirft in every breast; Of bleffings too I have my ftore, Yet quarrel not, fhould Heav'n give more; Then prove the change to be expedient, And think me, Sir, your moft obedient.

Here turning, as to one inferior,

Our gallant fpoke, and finil'd fuperior. Methinks, to quit your boafted station Requires a world of hesitation; Where brats and bonds are held a blessing, The cafe I doubt is past redreffing. Why, child, fuppofe the joys I mention Were the mere fruits of my invention, You've cause sufficient for your carriage, In flying from the curfe of marriage; That fly decoy, with vary'd fnares, That takes your widgeons in by pairs; Alike to husband and to wife, The cure of love and bane of life; The only method of forecafting, To make misfortune firm and lasting; The fin, by Heav'n's peculiar fentence, Unpardon'd, through a life's repentance. It is the double fnake that weds A common tail to diff'rent heads, That leads the carcase still aftray, By dragging each a diff'rent way. Of all the ills that may attend me, From marriage, mighty gods, defend me! Give me frank nature's wild demefne, And boundless tract of air ferene, Where fancy, ever wing'd for change, Delights to fport, delights to range; There, Liberty to thee is owing Whate'er of blifs is worth bestowing; Delights ftill vary'd, and divine, Sweet goddefs of the hills! are thine.

་

107

What fay you now, you pretty pink, you? Have I for once fpoke reafon, think you? You take me now for no romancer → Come, never ftudy for an answer; Away, caft ev'ry care behind ye, And fly where joy alone shall find Soft yet, return'd our female fencer, A question more, or fo—and then, Sir. You've rally'd me with fenfe exceeding, With much fine wit, and better breeding;

yc.

But

But pray, Sir, how do you contrive it?
Do thofe of your world never wive it?
"No, no." How then?"6 Why, dare I tell?
"What does the bus'nefs full as well."
Do you ne'er love? "An hour at leifure."
Have you no friendships? "Yes, for picafure."
No care for little ones? "We get 'em."
"The reit the mothers mind- and let 'em."
Thou wretch, rejoin'd the kindling Dove,
Quite loft to life as loft to love!
Where'er misfortune comes, how juft!
And come misfortune surely must;
In the dread seafon of difinay,
In that, your hour of trial, fay,
Who then shall prop your finking heart?
Who bear affliction's weightier part?

Say, when the black-brow'd welkin bends.
And winter's gloomy form impends,
To mourning turns all tranfient cheer,
And blafts the melancholy year;
For times at no perfuafion ftay,
Nor vice can find perpetual May;
Then where's that tongue, by folly fed,
That fout of pertnefs whither fled?
All fhrunk within thy lonely neft,
Forlorn, abandon'd, and unbleft!
No friends, by cordial bonds ally'd,
Shall feek thy cold, unfocial fide;
No chirping prattlers to delight,
Shall turn the long enduring night;
No bride her words of balm impart,
And warm thee at her conftant heart.
Freedom, reftrain'd by reason's force,
Is as the fun's unvarying course,
Benignly active, fweetly bright,
Affording warmth, affording light;
But torn from virtue's facred rules,
Becomes a comet, gaz'd by fools,
Foreboding cares, and ftorms, and strife,
And fraught with all the plagues of life.
Thou fool! by union ev'ry creature
Subfifts, through univerfal nature;
And this, to beings void of mind,
Is wedlock of a meaner kind.

While womb'd in space, primæval clay,
A yet unfashion'd embryo lay,
The Source of endless good, above,
Shot down his fpark of kindling love;
Touch'd by the all-enliv'ning fame,
Then motion firft exulting came;
Each atom fought its fep'rate clafs
Through many a fair, enamour'd mass;
Love caft the central charm around,
And with eternal nuptials bound.
Then form and order o'er the sky
Firft train'd their bridal pomp on high;
The fun display'd his orb to fight,
And burnt with hymeneal light.

Hence nature's virgin-womb conceiv'd,
And with the genial burden heav'd!
Forth came the oak, her firft born heir,
And fcal'd the breathing steep of air;
Then infant stems, of various ufe,
Imbib'd fer foft maternal juice;

The flow'rs, in early bloom difclos'd,
Upon her fragrant breast repos'd;
Within her warm embraces grew
A race of endlefs form, and hue;
Then pour'd her leffer offspring round,
And fondly cloath'd their parent ground.
Nor here alone the virtue reign'd,
By matter's cumb'ring form detain'd;
But thence, fubliming and refin'd,
Afpir'd, and reach'd its kindred mind.
Caught in the fond celeftial fire,
The mind perceiv'd unknown deftre;
And now with kind effufion flow'd,
And now with cordial ardour glow'd,
Beheld the fympathetic fair,

And lov'd its own refemblance there;
On all with circling radiance thone,
But cent'ring, fix'd on one alone;
There clafp'd the heav'n-appointed wife,
And doubled ev'ry joy of life,"

Here ever bleffing, ever bleft,
Refides this beauty of the breaft,
As from his palace, here the god
Still beams effulgent blifs abroad;
Here gems his own eternal round,
The ring by which the world is bound;
Here bids his feat of empire grow,
And builds his little heav'n below.

The bridal partners thus ally'd,
And thus in fweet accordance ty'd,
One body, heart, and spirit live,
Enrich'd by ev'ry joy they give;
Like echo, from her vocal hold,
Return'd in mufic twenty-fold.
Their union, firm and undecay'd,
Nor time can shake, nor pow'r invade,
But as the ftem and icion stand,
Ingrafted by a fkilful hand,
They check the tempeft's wint'ry rage,
And bloom and ftrengthen into age.
A thoufand amities unknown,
And pow'rs, perceiv'd by love alone,
Endearing looks and chafte defire
Fan and fupport the mutual fire,
Whofe flaine, perpetual as refin'd,
Is fed by an immortal mind.
Nor yet the nuptial fanction ends;
Like Nile it opens, and defcends,
Which, by apparent windings led,
We trace to its celeftial head.
The fire, firft fpringing from above,
Becomes the fource of life and love,
And gives his filial heir to flow
In fondnefs down on fons below:
Thus roll'd in one continu'd tide,
To time's extremeft verge they glide,
While kindred ftreams, on either hand,
Branch forth in bleflings o'er the land.

Thee, wretch! no lifping babe fhall name;
No late-returning brother claim;
No kinfiman on thy road rejoice;
No fifter greet thy ent'ring voice;
With partial eyes no parents fee,
And blefs their years reftor'd in thee.

In age rejected, or declin'd, An alien, ev'n among thy kind; The partner of thy fcorn'd embrace Shall play the wanton in thy face; Each spark unplume thy little pride; All friendship fly thy faithlefs fide. Thy name thall like thy carcafe rot, In fickness fpurn'd, in death forgot. All-giving Pow'r! great Source of life! O hear the parent! hear the wife! That life thou lendeft from above, Though little, make it large in love; O bid my feeling heart expand To ev'ry claim on ev'ry hand; To thofe from whom my days I drew To thefe, in whom those days renew; To all my kin, however wide, In cordial warmth as blood ally'd; To friends, with steely fetters twin'd; And to the cruel nct unkind!

But chief, the lord of my defire, My life, myfelf, my foul, my fire, Friends, children, all that with can claim, Chafte paffion claíp, and rapture name; O fpare him, fpare him, gracious Pow'r ! O give him to my latest hour! Let me my length of life employ To give my foul-enjoyment joy. His love, let mutual love excite, Turn all my cares to his delight, And ev'ry needlefs bleffing fpare, Wherein my darling wants a fhare. When he with graceful action woos, And sweetly bills, and fondly coos, Ah, deck me, to his eyes alone, With charms attractive as his own; And in my circling wings carefs'd, Give all the lover to my breast. Then in our chafte connubial bed, My bofom pillow'd for his head, His eyes with blissful flumbers close, And watch, with me, my lord's repofe ;. Your peace around his temples twine; And love him with a love like mine.

And, for I know his gen'rous flame,
Beyond whate'er my fex can claim,
Me too to your protection take,
And spare me for my husband's fake,
Let one unruffled calm delight
The loving and belov'd unite;
One pure defire our bofoms warm,
One will direct, one wish inform;
Through life, one mutual aid fuftain;
In death, one peaceful grave contain.

While, fwelling with the darling theme,
Her accents poun'd an endless ftream,
The well-known wings a found impart,
That reach'd her ear, and touch'd her heart;
Quick dropp'd the mufic of her tongue,
And forth, with eager joy, the fprung.
As fwift her ent'ring confort flew,
And plum'd and kindled at the view;
Their wings, their fouls, embracing meet,
Their hearts with anfwering measure beat;

Half loft in facred fweets, and blefs'd With raptures felt, but ne'er exprefs'd. Straight to her humble roof the led The partner of her spotlefs bed;

Her

young, a flutt'ring pair, arise,
Their welcome sparkling in their eyes;
Tranfported, to their fire they bound,
And hang with fpeechlefs action round.
In pleasure wrapt, the parents ftand,
And fee their little wings expand;
The fire, his life-fustaining prize
To each expecting bill applies,
There fondly pours the wheaten spoil,
With transport giv'n, tho' won with toil;
While, all collected at the fight,
And filent through fupreme delight,
The Fair high heav'n of blifs beguiles,
And on her lord and infants fimiles.

The Sparrow, whofe attention hung
Upon the Dove's enchanting tongue,
Of all his little flights difarm'd,
And from himself, by virtue, charm'd,
When now he faw, what only feem'd
A fact fo late, a fable deem'd,
His foul to envy he refign'd,
His hours of folly to the wind
In fecret with a turtle too,
And, fighing to himself, withdrew.

§200. Fable XV. The Female Seducers.
"TIS faid of widow, maid, and wife,
That honor is a woman's life;
Unhappy fex who only claim
A being in the breath of fame;
Which tainted, not the quick'ning gales
That fweep Sabæa's spicy vales,
Nor all the healing fweets reftore,
That breathe along Arabia's fhore.

The trav'ller, if he chance to ftray,
May turn uncenfur'd to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure;
But woman! no redemption knows;
The wounds of honor never close.

Tho' diftant ev'ry hand to guide,
Nor fkill'd on life's tempeftuops tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,'
Or deviate from the courfe decreed,
In vain the fecks the friendlefs fhore,,
Her fwifter folly flies before;
The circling ports againft her.clofe,
And thut the wand'rer from repofe;'
Till, by conflicting waves oppreft,
Her found'ring pinnace finks to reft.
Are there no off'rings to atone
For but a fingle error? None.
Tho' woman is avow'd, of old,.
No daughter of celeftial mould,.
Her temp'ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clay,
We challenge from the mortal dame
The ftrength angelic natures claim;

--

Nay