For that you ne'er can want a pen THE PEACOCK, THE TURKEY, AND THE GOOSE. IN beauty faults conspicuous grow; 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, conscious of superior merit, Contemns their base reviling spirit; His state and dignity assumes, And to the sun displays his plumes, Which, like the heav'n's o'er-arching skies, Are spangl'd with a thousand eyes: The circling rays and varied light At once confound their dazzled sight. On ev'ry tongue detraction burns, And malice prompts their spleen by turns. Mark, with what insolence and pride We TURKEYS have the whiter skin. From tongue to tongue they caught abuse; And next was heard the hissing GOOSE. What hideous legs! what filthy claws! I scorn to censure little flaws. Then, what a horrid squalling throat! Ev'n owls are frighted at the note. True. Those are faults, the PEACOCK cries, What, overlook my radiant train ! Each blemish strikes an envious mind. Thus in assemblies have I seen And buzzing scandal fills the place. F CUPID, HYMEN, AND PLUTUS. AS CUPID in CYTHEREA's grove Amidst their toil and various care, Thus HYMEN, with assuming air, Address'd the GOD: Thou purblind chit, Of awkward and ill-judging wit, If matches are no better made, At once I must forswear my trade. You send me such ill-coupled folks, That 'tis a shame to sell them yokes. They squabble for a pin, a feather, And wonder how they came together. The husband's sullen, dogged, shy, She'll have her will, or have her fits. When, says the BOY, had I to do PLUTUS appear'd, and said; 'Tis true, In marriage, gold is all their view; They seek not beauty, wit, or sense, And love is seldom the pretence. All offer incense at my shrine, And I alone the bargain sign. How can BELINDA blame her fate? She only ask'd a great estate. DORIS was rich enough, 'tis true, Her lord must give her title too. |