How many thousand structures rise,
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 gain,
We share the toil, and share the grain.
Since ev'ry creature was decreed
To aid each other's mutual need,
Appeafe your difcontented mind,
And act the part by Heav'n assign’d.

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

FABLE XLIV.

The Hound and the Huntsman.

IMPERTINENCE at firft is borne

With heedless flight, or smiles of scorn;
Teas'd into wrath, what patience bears
The noify fool who perfeveres?

The morning wakes, the Huntsman sounds, At once rush forth the joyful hounds; They seek the wood with eager pace, Through bush, through brier explore the chace ;

Now fcatter'd wide they try the plain,
And fnuff the dewy turf in vain.
What care, what industry, what pains!
What univerfal filence reigns!

RINGWOOD, a Dog of little fame, Young, pert, and ignorant of game, At once displays his babling throat; The pack, regardless of the note, Pursue the fcent; with louder ftrain He fill 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 express'd his moan.

I know the mufic of my tongue Long fince the pack with envy ftung. What will not spite? These bitter smarts I owe to my superiour parts.

When puppies prate, the Huntsman cry'd, They fhew both ignorance and pride; Fools may our scorn, not envy raise, For envy is a kind of praise. Had not thy forward noisy tongue

Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong,
Thou might'ft have mingled with the reft,
And ne'er thy foolish nose confeft;
But fools, to talking ever prone,
Are fure to make their follies known.

FABLE XLV.

The Poet and the Rofe.

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 Scribblers, covetous of praise,
Think flander can tranfplant the bays..
Beauties and Bards have equal pride,
With both all rivals are decry'd.
Who praises LESBIA's eyes and feature,
Muft call her fifter, awkward creature;
For the kind flatt'ry's fure to charm,
When we fome other nymph disarm.

As in the cool of early day
A Poet fought the sweets of May,
The garden's fragrant breath ascends,
And ev'ry ftalk with odour bends.

A rofe he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd, Thus finging as the Muse inspir'd.

Go, Rose, my CHLOE's bolom grace;
How happy fhould I prove,
Might I fupply that envy'd place
With never-fading love!

There, Phoenix-like, beneath her eye,
Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die!

Know, hapless flow'r, that thou shalt find
More fragrant roles 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, reply'd An angry Rose, who grew befide. Of all mankind, you should not flout us; What can a Poet do without us! In ev'ry love-fong roses bloom; We lend you colour and perfume. Does it to CHLOE's charms conduce, To found her praise on our abuse? Muft we, to flatter her, be made To whither, envy, pine, and fade?

The Cur, the Horfe, and the Shepherd's
Dog.

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

A village-cur, of fnappifh race, The perteft Puppy of the place, Imagin'd that his treble throat Was blefs'd with mufic's fweeteft note; In the mid road he basking lay, The yelping nuisance of the way; For not a creature pass'd along, But had a fample of his song.