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They forc'd their way thro' draggled folks,
Who gap'd to catch jack-pudding's jokes;
Then took their tickets for the fhow,
And got by chance the foremoft row.
To fee their grave, obferving face,
Provok'd a laugh through all the place.
Brother, fays Pug, and turn'd his head,
The rabble 's monitrously ill-bred!

Now through the booth loud hiffes ran;
Nor ended till the fhow began.
The tumbler whirls the flip-flap round,
With fomerfets he thakes the ground;
The cord beneath the dancer (prings;
Aloft in air the vaulter fwings;
Distorted now, now prone depends,
Now through his twifted arms afcends:
The crowd in wonder and delight,
With clapping hands applaud the fight.

With finiles, quoth Pug, If pranks like these
The giant apes of reafon please,
How would they wonder at our arts!
They must adore us for our parts.
High on the twig I've feen you cling,
Play, twift, and turn in airy ring:
How can thofe clunly things, like me,
Fly with a bound from tree to tree?
But yet, by this applause we find
Thefe emulators of our kind
Difcern our worth, our parts regard,
Who our mean mimics thus reward.
Brother, the grinning mate replies,
In this I grant that man is wife.
While good example they pursue,
We must allow fome praife is due;
But when they ftrain beyond their guide,
I laugh to fcorn the mimic pride;
For how fantaftic is the fight,
To meet men always bolt upright,
Because we fometimes walk on two!
I hate the imitating crew.

161. FABLE XLI.
AN Owl of grave deport and mien,
Who (like the Turk) was feldom feen,
Within a barn had chofe his flation,
As fit for prey and contemplation.
Upon a beam aloft he fits,

The Owl and the Farmer.

And nods, and feems to think, by fits.
So have I feen a man of news
Or Poft-boy or Gazette perule;
Smoke, ned, and talk with voice profound,
And fix the fate of Europe round.
Sheaves pil'd on fheaves hid all the floor.
At dawn of morn, to view his store,
The Farmer came. The hooting guest
His felf importance thus exprefs'd:

Reafon in man is mere pretence:
How weak, how thallow is his fenfe!
To treat with fcorn the Bird of Night,
Declares his folly or his fpite.
Then too, how partial is his praise !
The lark the linnet's chirping lays,
To his ill-juding ears are fine,
And nightingales are all divine.

But the more knowing feather'd race
See wifdom ftamp'd upon my face.
Whene'er to vifit light I deign,
What flocks of fowl compofe my train!
Like flaves, they crowd my flight behind,
And own me of fuperior kind.

The Farmer laugh'd, and thus replied:
Thou dull important lump of pride,
Dar'ft thou, with that harfh grating tongue
Depreciate birds of warbling fong?
Indulge thy fpleen. Know, men and fowl
Regard thee as thou art, an Owl.
Befides proud blockhead, be not vain
Of what thou call'ft thy flaves and train.
Few follow wisdom, or her rules;
Fools in derifion follow fools.

§ 162.
A JUGGLER long through all the town
Had rais'd his fortune and renown:
You'd think (fo far his art tranfcends)
The devil at his fingers' ends.

FABLE XLII. The Jugglers.

Vice heard his fame, the read his bill;
Convinc'd of his inferior fkill,

She fought his booth, and from the crowd
Defied the man of art aloud:

Is this then he fo fam'd for flight?
Can this flow bungler cheat your fight?
Dares he with me difpute the prize?
I leave it to impartial eyes.

Provok'd, the Juggler cried, 'Tis done;
In fcience I fubmit to none.

Thus faid, the cups and balls he play'd,
By turns this here, that there, convey'd;
The cards, obedient to his words,
Are by a fillip turn'd to birds.
His little boxes change the grain;
Trick after trick deludes the train.
He thakes his bag, he thews all fair;
His fingers fpread, and nothing there;
Then bids it rain with fhowers of gold:
And now his iv'ry eggs are told;
But when from thence the hen he draws,
Amaz'd fpectators hum applaufe.

Vice now ftepp'd forth, and took the place
With all the forms of his grimace.

This magic looking-glafs, the cries,
(There, hand it round) will charm your eyes.
Each eager eye the fight defir'd,
Aud ev'ry man himself admir'd.

Next, to a fenator addreffing,
See this bank note; obferve the bleffing,
Breathe on the bill. Heigh, pafs! 'tis gone.
Upon his lips a padlock thoue.
A fecond puff the magic broke;
The padlock vanith'd, and he spoke.
Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board,
All full, with heady liquor itor'd,
By clean conveyance difappear,

And now, two bloody fwords are there,

A purfe fhe to a thief expos'd;
At once his ready fingers clos'd.
He opes his fift, the treafure's fled ;
He fees a halter in its ftead.

She

She is ambition hold a wand; He gasa hatchet in his hand. Abux of charity the fhews:

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Bow here; and a churchwarden blows.
Ts vann'd with conveyance neat,
And on the table fmokes a treat.

Ste Fakes the dice, the board she knocks,
And from all pockets fills her box.
the next a meagre rake addrefs'd:
Titure fee, her shape, her breast!
Wirth, and what inviting eyes!
Be, and have her. With furprise.
Eexpos'd a box of pills,
A laugh proclaim'd his ills.
4 center in a mifer's hand

twenty guineas at command. Reds bis heir the fum retain, a counter now again.

a with her touch you fee Latesy toe, but Charity: And-ot see thing you faw, or drew, gd from what was first in view. Ter now, in grief of heart, tobmiffion own'd her art: matchless flight withstand? hath improv'd your hand! ad then I cheat the throng;

1 day, and all day long.

3. FABLE XLIII. The Council of Horfes. Tate, a neighing Steed,

W

'd among a num'rous breed, lad nr'd the train, difention through the plain. 1 a that concern'd the ftate

Get in grand debate. Autot eye-balls flam'd with ire, Egth and youthful fire, I forth before the reft, Atning throng addrefs'd: God how abject is our race, Craid to fav'ry and difgrace!

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our fervitude retain,

B car fires have borne the chain? Cr, friends, your ftrength and might; en to affert your right. ous is the gilded coach! de of man is our reproach. we dign'd for daily toil, the plough-fhare through the foil, in harness through the road, beneath the carrier's load? Ele are the two-legg'd kind! e is in our nerves combin'd! en our nobler jaws fubmit and champ the galling bit? aughty man my back beftride? tebap fpur provoke my fide? Heavens! Reject the rein; Your fame, your infamy disdain. Let inte lion first controul,

the tiger's famifh'd growl. ws, like them, our freedom claim, And make hirm tremble at our name.

A gen'ral nod approv'd the cause, And all the circle neigh'd applaufe. When lo! with grave and folemn pace, A Steed advanc'd before the race; With age and long experience wife, Around he caft his thoughtful eyes; And to the murmurs of the train, Thus fpoke the Neftor of the plain : When I had health and ftrength like you, The toils of fervitude I knew; Now grateful man rewards my pains, And gives me all these wide domains. At will I crop the year's increase; My latter life is reft and peace, I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains: But doth not he divide the care, Through all the labours of the year? How many thousand structures rife, To fence us from inclement skies! For us he bears the fultry day, And ftores up all our winter's hay. He fows, he reaps the harveft's grain; We share the toil, and share the gain. Since ev'ry creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need, Appeafe your difcontended mind, And act the part by Heaven affign'd.

The tumult ceas'd. The Colt fubmitted; And, like his ancestors, was bitted.

§ 164. FABLE XLIV. The Hound and the Huntfman.

IMPERTINENCE at firft is borne
With heedlefs flight, or fmiles of scorn;
Teas'd into wrath, what patience bears
The noify fool who perfevers?

The morning wakes, the Huntfman founds,
At once rush forth the joyful hounds.
They feek the wood with eager pace;
Thro' buth, thro' brier, explore the chace.
Now, fcatter'd wide, they try the plain,
And fnuff the dewy turf in vain.
What care, what induftry, what pains!
What universal filence reigns!

Ringwood, a dog of little fame,
Young, pert, and ignorant of game,
At once difplays his babbling throat;
The pack, regardless of the note,
Purfue the fcent; with louder strain
He still perfifts to vex the train.

The Huntsman to the clamour flies;
The fmacking lafh he fmartly plies.
His ribs all welk'd, with howling tone
The Puppy thus exprefs'd his moan:

I know the mufic of my tongue
Long fince the pack with envy ftung.
What will not fpite? These bitter Imarts
I owe to my fuperior parts.

When puppies prate, the Huntsman cried,
They fhew both ignorance and pride:
Fools may our fcorn, not envy raise;
For envy is a kind of praise.

I 4

Had

P

Had not thy forward noify tongue Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong, Thou might't have mingled with the reft, And ne'er thy foolish noise confefs'd. But fools, to talking ever prone, Are fure to make their follies known.

A village-cur, of snappish race,
The perteft Puppy of the place,
Imagin'd that his treble throat
Was bleft with mufic's fweetest note;
In the mid road he basking lay,
The yelping nuifance of the way;
For not a creature pafs'd along,

§ 165. FABLE XLV. The Poet and the Rofe. But had a fample of his fong.

I HATE the man who builds his name
On ruins of another's fame.

Thus prudes by characters o'erthrown
Imagine that they raise their own.
Thus fcribblers, covetous of praise,
Think flander can tranfplant the bays.
Beauties and bards have equal pride:
With both all rivals are decried.
Who praises Lefbia's eyes and feature,
Muft call her fifter awkward creature;
For the kind flattery 's fure to charm,
When we fome other nymph difarm.

As in the cool of early day
A Poet fought the fweets of May,
The garden's fragrant breath afcends,
And ev'ry ftalk with odour bends.
A Rofe he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd,
Thus finging, as the Mule inspir'd:
Go, Rofe, my Chloe's bofom grace:
How happy fhould I prove,
Might I fupply that envied place
With never-fading løve!

There, Phoenix-like, beneath her eye,
Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die!
Know, hapless flow'r, that thou shalt find
More fragrant rofes there:

I fee thy with'ring head reclin'd

With envy and despair!

One common fate we both must prove ;
You die with envy, I with love."
Spare your comparisons, replied
An angry Rofe who grew befide.

Of all mankind you should not flout us;
What can a Poet do without us?
In ev'ry love fong rofes bloom;
We lend you colour and perfume.
Does it to Chloe's charms conduce,
To found her praife on our abufe?
Muft we, to flatter her, be made
To wither, envy, pine, and fade?

§166. FABLE XLVI. The Cur, the Horfe, and the Shepherd's Dog.

THE lad of all-fufficient merit
With modesty ne'er damps his fpirit;
Prefuming on his own deferts,
On all alike his tongue exerts;
His noify jokes at random throws,
And pertly fpatters friends and foes.
In wit and war the bully race
Contribute to their own di grace.
Too late the forward youth fhall find
That jokes are fometimes paid in kind;
Or, if they canker in the breaft,
He makes a foe who makes a jest.

Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears;
Away he fcours, affaults his hoof;
Now near him fnarls, now oaks aloof;
With thrill impertinence attends;
Nor leaves him till the village ends.

It chanc'd, upon his evil day,
A Fad came pacing down the way:
The cur, with never-ceafing tongue,
Upon the paffing trav'ller fprung.
The Horie, from fcorn provok'd to ire,
Flung backward: rolling in the mire
The Puppy howl'd, and bleeding lay;
The Pad in peace pursued his way.

A Shepherd's Dog, who faw the deed,
Detefting the vexatious breed,
Bespoke him thus: When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate;
Thy teafing tongue had judgment tied,
Thou hadit not like a Puppy died.

$167. FABLE XLVII. The Court of Deat
DEATH, on a folemn night of state,
In all his pomp of terror fate;
Th' attendants of his gloomy reign,
Difeafes dire, a gháftly train!

Crowd the vaft Court. With hollow tone,
A voice thus thunder'd from the throne;
This night our minifter we name,
Let ev'ry fervant fpeak his claims
Merit fhall bear this ebon wand.—
All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand.
Fever, with burning heat poffeft,
Advanc'd, and for the wand addrefs'd:
I to the weekly bills appeal,
Let thofe exprefs my fervent zeal;
On ev'ry flight occafion near,
With violence I perfevere.

Next Gout appears, with limping pace,
Pleads how he fhifts from place to place;
From head to foot how fwift he flies,
And ev'ry joint and finew plies;
Still working when he feems fuppreft-
A moft tenacious fubborn guest.

A haggard Spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus afferts his due :
'Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the fhape of Love deftroy:
My thanks, funk eyes, and nofelefs face,
Prove my pretension to the place.

Stone urg'd his ever-growing force;
And next Consumption's meagre corse,
With feeble voice that fcarce was heard,
Broke with fhort coughs, his fuit preferr❜d:
Let none object my ling ring way,
Again, like Fabius, by delay;

Fatigue

Fatigue and weaken ev'ry foe
bong rack-fecure, though flow.
inque reprefents his rapid pow'r,

thina'd a nation in an hour.

All spoke their claim, and hop'd the wand.
Aw expectation hush'd the band,

We thus the monarch from the throne:
Ment was ever modest known.
Who Phyfician fpeaks his right?
Ste! but fees their toils requite.

latemp'rance take the wand,
What with gold their zealous hand.
The Fr, Gout, and all the rest,
Tary men as foes deteft,

your claim; no more pretend; arance isefteem'd a friend; Bres their mirth, their focial joys, And as a courted gueft deftroys. The charge on his must justly fall, Who inds employment for you all.

At this the Gard'ner's paffion grows;
From oaths and threats he fell to blows.
The ftubborn brute the blows fuftains,
Affaults his leg and tears his veins.

Ah, foolish fwain! too late you find,
That fties were for fuch friends defign'd.
Homeward he limps with painful pace,
Reflecting thus on paft difgrace.

Who cherishes a brutal mate
Shall mourn the folly soon or late.

$169. FABLE XLIX. The Man and the Flea,
WHETHER in earth, in air, or main,
Sure ev'ry thing alive is vain!

Does not the hawk all fowls furvey
As deftin'd only for his prey?
And do not tyrants, prouder things,
Think men were born for flaves to kings?
When the crab views the pearly strands,
Or Tagus, bright with golden fands 3
Or crawls befide the coral grove,

FABLE XLVIII. The Garner and the Hog. And hears the ocean roll above;

Ataat of peculiar taste
CgHog his favour plac'd,
Wed with the common herd;
to the hall preferr'd.
Few underneath the board,
Grater's chamber fnor'd;
Wan fond trok'd him ev'ry day,
And taught him all the puppy's play.
Werbe went, the grunting friend
Need his pleasure to attend.
As a tune the loving pair
Wath to tend the garden's care,
The Marthas addrefs'd the Swine;
Many garden, all is thine;
Cawhone'er you please,
And my beans and peafe;
Estate delights,
Or the red arrot's fweet invites,
cage thy morn and ev'ning hours,
Bd care regard my flow'rs.
ys are my garden's pride,

expence thofe beds fupplied!
The Hg, by chance, one morning roam'd
with new ale the veffels foam'd:
Beaches now the ftreaming grains;
a fall fwill the liquor drains.
g fumes arife;

be moils his winking eyes; ring, through the garden fcours, down painted ranks of flow'rs. gfnout he turns the foil, Acas palate with the spoil. Tek came, the ruin fpied; d thy rage! he cried: Het nou most ungrateful fot! only charge forgot? Wowrs! No more he faid, ugh'd, and hung his head. ta tutt'ring fpeech returns, why your anger burns, be, untouch'd, your tulips strewn, fal devour'd the roots alone.

Nature is too profufe, fays he,
Who gave all thefe to pleasure me!

When bord'ring pinks and rofes bloom,
And ev'ry garden breathes perfume;
When peaches glow with funny dyes,
Like Laura's cheek when blushes rife;
When with huge figs the branches bend,
When clusters from the vine depend;
The fnail looks round on flow'r and tree,
And cries, All these were made for me!
What dignity's in human nature!
Says Man, the moft conceited creature,
As from a clift he caft his eyes,
And view'd the fea and arched skies:
The fun was funk beneath the main;
The moon, and all the starry train,
Hung the vaft vault of heaven. The Man
His coutemplation thus began:

When I behold this glorious fhow,
And the wide wat'ry world below,
The fcaly people of the main,
The beafts that range the wood or plain,
The wing'd inhabitants of air,
The day, the night, the various year,
And know all thefe by Heaven defign'd
As gifts to pleasure human-kind;
I cannot raife my worth too high:
Of what vaft confequence am I!

Not of th' importance you fuppofe,
Replies a Flea upon his nose:
Be humble, learn thyfelf to fcan;
Know, pride was never made for Man.
'Tis vanity that fwells thy mind,
What, heaven and earth for thee defign'd!
For thee made only for our need,
That more important Fleas might feed.

170. FABLE L. The Hare and many Friends:
FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child, whom many fathers thare,
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 beitial train Who haunt the wood or graze the plain. Her care was, never to offend; And ev'ry creature was her friend.

As forth the went, at early dawn,
To tafte the dew.besprinkled lawn,
Behind the hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies:
She starts, the ftops, the pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles to mislead the hound,
And meafures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half-dead with fear the gafping lay.

What tranfport in her bolom grew,
When firft the Horfe appear'd in view!
Let me, fays the, your back afcend,
And owe my fafety to a friend.
You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship ev'ry burthen's light.

The Horle replied, Poor honcit 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 itately Bull implor'd,'
And thus replied the mighty lord:
Since every bcaft 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'rite 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 might feem unkind;
But fee, the Goat is juft behind-

The Goat remark'd her pulfe was high,
Her languid head, her heavy eye;
My back, fays he, may do you harm;
The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.
The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd
His fides a load of wool fustain`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 diftrefs'd.
Shall I, fays he, of tender age,
In this important care engage?
Older and abler pafs'd you by:
How ftrong are thofe ! how weak am I!
Should I prefume to bear you hence,
Thofe friends of mine may take offence.
Excuse me, then. You know my heart,
But dearest friends, alas! muft part.
How fhall we all lament! Adieu!
For, ice, the hounds are juft in view.

YOUNG'S NIGHT-THOUGHTS. 171. NIGHT 1. Sleep. TIR'D Nature's fweet reftorer, balmy Sleep! He, like the world, his ready vifit pays

Where Fortune smiles; the wretched fakes:

Swift on his downy pinion flies from w And lights on lids unfullied with a tear

From thort (as usual) and disturb'd re I wake: How happy they who wake no Yet that were vain, if dreams infeft the I wake, emerging from a fea of dreams Tumultuous; where my wreck'd, despo thought,

From wave to wave of fancy'd mifery At random drove, her helm of reafon lo Tho' now reftor'd, 'tis only change of p A bitter change; feverer for fevere: The day too fhort for my diftrefs! and Ev'n in the zenith of her dark domain, Is funthine, to the colour of my fate.

$172. Night.

NIGHT, fable goddess! from her ebon th In raylefs majetty, now stretches forth Her leaden fceptre o'er a flumb'ring worl Silence, how dead! and darkness, how prof Nor eye nor lift'ning ear an object finds; Creation fleeps. 'Tis as the general pul Of life ftood ftill, and nature made a pau: An awfui paufe, prophetic of her end. And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd: Fate! drop the curtain: I can lofe no mo

173. Invocation to Silence and Darkne SILENCE and Darknefs! folemn fifters! tw From ancient Night, who nurse the te thought

To reafon, and on reafon build refolve,
(That column of true majefty in man)
Affilt me: I will thank you in the grave;
The grave, your kingdom: There this f
fhall fall

A victim facred to your dreary shrine:
But what are ye? Thou who didft put to f
Primeval Silence, when the morning ftars
Exulting, fhouted o'er the riding ball;
O Thou! whofe word from folid darkness f
That park, the fun; ftrike wifdom from my
My foul which flies to thee,her truft, her treal
As mifers to their gold, while others reft.

Thro' this opaque of nature, and of fou This double night, tranfmit one pitying ra To lighten and to cheer: O lead my mind (A mind that fain would wander from its Lead it thro' various fcenes of Life and De And from each fcene, the nobleft truths inf Nor lefs infpire my conduct, than my fong Nor let the vial of thy vengeance, pour'd On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.

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