Draw near, my birds, the mother cries;
This hill delicious fare supplies:
Behold, the busy negro race-

See, millions blacken all the place!
Fear not. Like me, with freedom eat—
An Ant is most delightful meat!

How bless'd, how envy'd, were our life,
Could we but 'scape the poult'rer's knife!
But man, curs'd man, on turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days!
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the sav'ry chine;
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes.on ev'ry board.
Sure men for gluttony are curst,
Of the sev'n deadly sins the worst.
An Ant, who climb'd beyond her reach,
Thus answer'd from, the neighb'ring beech:
Ere you remark another's sin,

Bid thy own conscience look within;
Control thy more voracious bill,
Nor for a breakfast nations kill.

FABLE XXXIX.

The Father and Jupiter.

THE Man to Jove his suit preferr'd; He begg'd a wife-his pray'r was heard. Jove wonder'd at his bold addressing; For how precarious is the blessing! F

A wife he takes. And now for heirs Again he worries Heav'n with pray'rs. Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boys And a fine girl reward his joys.

Now more solicitous he grew,
And set their future lives in view:
He saw that all respect and duty
Were paid to wealth, to pow'r, and beauty.
Once more, he cries, accept my pray'r:
Make my lov'd progeny thy care.
Let my first hope, my fav'rite boy,
All fortune's richest gifts enjoy.
My next with strong ambition fire:
May favour teach him to aspire,
Till he the step of pow'r ascend,
And courtiers to their idol bend.
With ev'ry grace, with ev'ry charm,
My daughter's perfect features arm.
If Heav'n approve, a Father's bless'd!
Jove smiles, and grants his full request.
The first, a miser at the heart,
Studious of ev'ry griping art,

Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain,
And all his life devotes to gain.
He feels no joy; his cares increase;
He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace:
In fancied want (a wretch complete)
He starves, and yet he dare not eat.

The next to sudden honours grew;
The thriving art of Courts he knew;
He reach'd the height of pow'r and place,
Then fell the victim of disgrace!

Beauty with early bloom supplies
His daughter's checks, and points her eyes.
The vain coquette each suit disdains,
And glories in her lover's pains.

With age she fades; each lover flies;
Contemn'd, forlorn, she pines and dines!
When Jove the Father's grief survey'd,
And heard him Heav'n and Fate upbraid,
Thus spoke the God:-By outward shew,
Men judge of happiness and woe.
Shall ignorance of good and ill
Dare to direct th' eternal will?
Seek virtue, and, of that possest,
To Providence resign the rest.

FABLE XL.

The Two Monkeys.

THE learned, full of inward pride,
The fops of outward shew deride;
The fop, with learning at defiance,
Scoffs at the pedant and the science.
The Don, a formal, solemn strutter,
Despises Monsieur's airs and flutter;
While Monsieur mocks the formal fool,
"Who looks, and speaks, and walks by rule.
Britain, a medley of the twain,

As pert as France, as grave as Spain,
In fancy wiser than the rest,
Laughs at them both, of both the jest.

Is not the poet's chiming close
Censur'd by all the sons of prose ?
While bards of quick imagination
Despise the sleepy prose narration.
Men laugh at apes; they men contemn;
For what are we but apes to them?

Two Monkeys went to Southwark fair; No critics had a sourer air:

They forc'd their way thro' draggled folks,
Who gap'd to catch Jack-pudding's jokes;
Then took their tickets for the shew,
And got by chance the foremost row.
To see their grave observing face,
Provok'd a laugh through all the place.
Brother, says Pug, and turn'd his head,
The rabble's monstrously ill bred.

Now through the booth loud hisses ran,
Nor ended till the show began.
The tumbler whirls his flip-flap round;
With somersets he shakes the ground:
The cord beneath the dancer springs;
Aloft in air the vaulter swings;
Distorted now, now prone depends,
Now through his twisted arms ascends.
The crowd, in wonder and delight,
With clapping hands applaud the sight.
With smiles, quoth Pug-If pranks like
these

The giant apes of reason please,
How would they wonder at our arts!
They must adore us for our parts.

High on the twig I've seen you cling,
Play, twist, and turn in airy ring.
How can those clumsy things, like me,
Fly with a bound from tree to tree?
But yet, by this applause, we find
These emulators of our kind

Discern our worth, our parts regard,
Who our mean mimics thus reward.
Brother, the grinning mate replies,
In this I grant that man is wise.
While good example they pursue,
We must allow some praise is due;
But when they strain beyond their guide,
I laugh to scorn the mimic pride;
For how fantastic is the sight,

To meet men always bolt upright,
Because we sometimes walk on two!
I hate the imitating crew.

FABLE XLI.

The Owl and the Farmer.

AN Owl of grave deport and mien,
Who, like the Turk, was seldom seen,
Within a barn had chose his station,
As fit for prey and contemplation.
Upon a beam aloft he sits,

And nods, and seems to think, by fits.
So have I seen a man of news
Or Post-boy or Gazette peruse;