How can that ftrong intrepid mind Attack a weak defenceless kind?

Those jaws should prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood
Great fouls with gen'rous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt.
How harmless is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.

Friend, fays the Wolf, the matter weigh. Nature defign'd us beafts of prey; As fuch, when hunger finds a treat, 'Tis neceflary Wolves fhould eat. If, mindful of the bleating weal, Thy bofom burn with real zeal; Hence, and thy tyrant-lord beseech, To him repeat the moving speech; A Wolf eats sheep but now and then, Ten thousands are devour'd by men. An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse.

D

FABLE XVIII.

The Painter who pleafed nobody and

LEST

every body.

men fufpect your tale untrue,

Keep probability in view.

The trav'ler, leaping o'er thofe bounds,
The credit of his book confounds;
Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes ev'n his real courage doubted.
But flatt'ry never feems abfurd;
The flatter'd always take your word:
Impoffibilities seem juft;

They take the frongeft praife on truft;`
Hyperboles, though ne'er fo great,
Will ftill come short of self-conceit.

So very like a Painter drew, That every eye the picture knew; He hit complexion, feature, air,~ So juft, the life itself was there. No flatt'ry, with his colours laid, To bloom reftor'd the faded maid, He gave each muscle all its ftrength, The mouth, the chin, the nose's length

His honeft pencil touch'd with truth, And mark'd the date of age and youth.

He loft his friends, his practice fail'd, Truth should not always be reveal'd; In dufty piles his pictures lay, For no one sent the second pay.

Two buftos, fraught with ev'ry grace, A VENUS' and APOLLO's face, He plac'd in view; refolv'd to please, Whoever fat, he drew from these; From these corrected ev'ry feature, And spirited each awkward creature.

All things were fet; the hour was come,
His pallet ready o'er his thumb,
My Lord appear'd, and seated right
In proper attitude and light,

The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,
Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece,
Of TITIAN'S tints, of GUIDO's air;
Thofe eyes, my Lord, the spirit there
Might well a RAPHAEL's hand require,
To give them all the native fire;
The features fraught with sense and wit
You'll grant are very hard to hit;

But yet with patience you shall view
As much as paint and art can do.

Obferve the work. My Lord reply'd, Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Befides, my nose is somewhat long, 'tis far too young.)

Dear Sir, for me,

Oh, pardon me, the artift cry'd,
In this we painters muft decide.

The piece ev'n common eyes must firike,
I warrant it extremely like.
My lord examin'd it a-new;

No looking-glass seem'd half so true.

A Lady came, with borrow'd grace
He from his VENUS form'd her face,
Her lover prais'd the Painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
To ev'ry age fome charm he lent,
Ev'n Beauties were almoft content.

Through all the town his art they prais'd, His cuftom grew, his price was rais'd. Had he the real likeness fhewn, Would any man the picture own? But when thus happily he wrought, Each found the likeness in his thought.

FABLE XIX.

The Lion and the Cub.

How fond are men of rule and place,

Who court it from the mean and bafe!
These cannot bear an equal nigh,
But from fuperiour merit fly.

They love the cellar's vulgar joke,
And lose their hours in ale and smoke;
There o'er fome petty club prefide;

So poor, fo paltry is their pride!

Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit,
In hopes to be supreme in wit.

If these can read, to these I write,
To let their worth in trueft light.

A Lion-cub, of fordid mind,
Avoided all the lion-kind;

Fond of applaufe, he fought the feafts
Of vulgar and ignoble beafts.

With affes all his time he spent,

Their club's perpetual prefident.

He caught their manners, looks, and airs: An ass in ev'ry thing, but ears!

If e'er his Highness meant a joke,