FABLE XLVII.
The Court of Death.
DEATH, on a solemn night of state,
In all his pomp of terror sate:
Th' attendants of his gloomy reign-
Diseases dire! a ghastly train!
Crowd the vast Court. With hollow tone,
A voice thus thunder'd from the throne:-
This night our minister we name;
Let ev'ry servant speak his claim;
Merit shall bear this ebon wand.
All, at the word, stretch'd forth their hand.
Fever, with burning heat possest,
Advanc'd, and for the wand addrest.
I to the weekly bills appeal;
Let those express my fervent zeal;
On ev'ry slight occasion near,
With violence I persevere.
Next Gout appears, with limping pace,
Pleads how he shifts from place to place;
From head to foot how swift he flies,
And ev'ry joint and sinew plies;
Still working when he seems supprest―
A most tenacions stubborn guest!
A haggard spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus asserts his due.
"Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the shape of love destroy:
My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face,
Prove my pretension to the place.
Stone urg'd his ever-growing force. And next Consumption's meagre corse, With feeble voice, that scarce was heard, Broke with short coughs, his suit preferr'd. Let none object my ling'ring way: I gain, like Fabius, by delay; Fatigue and weaken ev'ry foe By long attack, secure, though slow. Plague represents his rapid pow'r, Who thinn'd a nation in an hour.
All spoke their claim, and hop'd the
Now expectation hush'd the band,
When thus the Monarch from the throne:
Merit was ever modest known.
What! no Physician speak his right!
None here!-but fees their toils requite.
Let, then, Intemp'rance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest,
(Whom wary men, as foes, detest)
Forego your claim; no more pretend:
Intemp'rance is esteem'd a friend;
He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And, as a courted guest, destroys.
The charge on him must justly fall,
Who finds employment for you all.
FABLE XLVIII.
The Gardener and the Hog.
A GARD'NER, of peculiar taste, On a young Hog his favour plac'd; Who fed not with the common herdHis tray was to the hall preferr❜d. He wallow'd underneath the board, Or in his master's chamber snor'd; Who fondly strok'd him ev'ry day, And taught him all the puppy's play. Where'er he went, the grunting friend Ne'er fail'd his pleasure to attend. As, on a time, the loving pair Walk'd forth to tend the garden's care, The master thus address'd the swine:My house, my garden, all is thine; On turnips feast whene'er you please, And riot in my beans and pease: If the potato's taste delights, Or the red carrot's sweet invites, Indulge thy morn and evening hours: But let due care regard my flow'rs: My tulips are my garden's prideWhat vast expence those beds supply'd! The Hog by chance one morning roam'd, Where with new ale the vessels foam'd. He munches now the steaming grains, Now with full swill the liquor drains. Intoxicating fumes arise:
He reels-he rolls his winking eyes;
Then, staggering, thro' the garden scours,
And treads down painted ranks of flow'rs.
With delving snout he turns the soil,
And cools his palate with the spoil.
The master came, the ruin spy'd-
Villain! suspend thy rage, he cry'd.
Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot!
My charge, my only charge, forgot?
What! all my flow'rs! No more he said,
But gaz'd, and sigh'd, and hung his head.
The Hog with stutt'ring speech returns:
Explain, Sir, why your anger burns.
See there, untouch'd, your tulips strown,
For I devour'd the roots alone.
At this the Gard'ner's passion grows;
From oaths and threats he fell to blows.
The stubborn brute the blows sustains,
Assaults his leg, and tears the veins.
Ah! foolish swain, too late you find
That sties were for such friends design'd!
Homeward he limps with painful pace,
Reflecting thus on past disgrace:
Who cherishes a brutal mate,
Shall mourn the folly soon or late.
FABLE XLIX.
The Man and the Flea.
WHETHER on earth, in air, or main Sure ev'ry thing alive is vain!
Does not the hawk all fowls survey
As destin'd only for his prey?
And do not tyrants, prouder things,
Think men were born for slaves to kings?
When the crab views the pearly strands,
Or Tagus, bright with golden sands;
Or crawls beside the coral grove,
And hears the ocean roll above;
Nature is too profuse, says he,
Who gave all these to pleasure me!
When bord'ring pinks and roses bloom,
And ev'ry garden breathes perfume;
When peaches glow with sunny dies,
Like Laura's cheek, when blushes rise;
When with huge figs the branches bend;
When clusters from the vine depend;
The snail looks round on flow'r and tree,
And cries-All these were made for me!
What dignity's in human nature!
Says Man, the most conceited creature,
As from a cliff he cast his eye,
And view'd the sea and arched sky.
The sun was sunk beneath the main;
The moon, and all the starry train,
Hung the vast vault of Heav'n. The Man
His contemplation thus began:-
When I behold this glorious show,
And the wide wat'ry world below,
The scaly people of the main,
The beasts that range the wood or plain,
The wing'd inhabitants of air,
The day, the night, the various year,]
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