'Tis that supports the regal state,

And makes the farmer's heart clate:
The numerous flocks that cloathe the land
Can fearce fupply the loom's demand;
Prolific culture glaps the fields,
And the bare heath a harvest yields.

Nature expects mankind should share
The duties of the public care.

Who's born for floth? To fome we find
The plonghhare's annual toil affign'd :
Some at the founding anvil głow;
Some the fwift-fliding fhuttle throw;
Some, ftudious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole our commerce guide:
Some (taught by induftry) impart
With hands and feet the works of art;
While fome of genius more refin'd,
With head and tongue affift mankind.
Each, aiming at one common end,
Proves to the whole a needful friend.
Thus, born each other's useful aid,
By turns are obligations paid.

For rats and mice purloin our grain,
And threshers whirl the flail in vain a
Thus fhall the Cat, a foe to fpoil,

30 Protect the farmer's honeft toil."

35

Then turning to the Dog, he cry'd,
"Well, Sir, be next your merits try'd."
"Sir, fays the Dog, by felf-applaufe
We feem to own a friendlefs caufe.
Afk those who know me, if distrust
E'er found me treacherous or unjust?
Did I e'er faith or friendship break?
Afk all those creatures; let them speak.
My vigilance and trusty zeal

40 Perhaps might serve the public weal.
Might not your flocks in fafety feed,
Were I to guard the fleecy breed?
Did I the nightly watches keep,

45

Could thieves invade you while you fleep?" The man replies, "Tis juft and right;

Rewards fuch fervice fhould requite.

So rare, in property, we find

Truft uncorrupt among mankind,

The monarch, when his table 's fpread,

That, taken in a public view,

59

The firft diftinction is your due,

Such merits all reward tranfcend;

Be then my comrade and my friend."

Is to the clown oblig'd for bread;
And, when in all his glory dreft,

Owes to the loom his royal veft.
Do not the mason's toil and care
Protect him from th' inclement air?
Does not the cutler's art fupply
The ornament that guards his thigh?
All thefe, in duty to the throne,
Their common obligations own.
'Tis he (his own and people's cause)
Protects their properties and laws.
Thus they their honeft toil employ,
And with content the fruits enjoy.
In every rank, or great or small,
'Tis induftry fupports us all.

The animals, by want opprefs'd,
To man their fervices addrefs'd:
While each purfu'd their selfish good,
They hunger'd for precarious food:
Their hours with anxious cares were vext;
One day they fed, and starv'd the next :
They faw that plenty, fure and rife,

55

Addreffing now the Fly: "From you What public fervice can accrue ?"

"From me! (the fluttering infect faid)

110

I thought you knew me better bred. Sir, I'm a gentleman. Is 't fit

That I to industry submit?
Let mean mechanics, to be fed,

60 By bufinefs earn ignoble bread;
Loft in excefs of daily joys,

No thought, no care, my life annoys,
At noon (the lady's matin hour)
I fip the tea's delicious flower.

65 On cates luxuriously I dine,

And drink the fragrance of the vine.
Studious of elegance and eafe,
My felf alone I seek to pleate."

120

125

The man his pert conceit derides,

T

HOUGH courts the practife difallow, A friend at all times I'll avow. In politics I know 'tis wrong; A friendship may be kept too long; And what they call the prudent part, Is to wear intereft next the heart. As the times take a different face, Cld friendships fhould to new give place. I know, too, you have many foes, That owning you is fharing those; That every knave in every ftation, Of high and low denomination. For what you fpeak, and what you write, Dread you at once, and bear you spite. Such freedoms in your works are shown, They can't enjoy what's not their own. All dunces, too, in church and ftate, In frothy nonfenfe fhew their hate; With all the petty fcribbling crew (And thofe pert fots are not a few), 'Gainft you and Pope their envy spurt. The bookfellers alone are hurt.

Good Gods! by what a powerful race (For blockheads may have power and place) Are fcandals rais'd, and libels writ! To prove your honefty and wit!

Think with yourfelf: thofe worthy mer, You know, have fuffer'd by your pen. From them you 've nothing but your due.

10

As power and wealth his views fupply'd, 'Twas feen in overbearing pride.

45

With him loud impudence had merit;
The Bee of confcience wanted fpirit;
And thofe who follow'd honour's rules
Were laugh'd to fcorn for fqueamish fools.
Wealth claim'd diftinction, favour grace,
And poverty alone was base.
He treated induftry, with flight,
Unless he found his profit by 't.
Rights, laws, and liberties, give way,
To bring his felfifh fchemes in play.
The fwarm forgot the common toil,
To fhare the gleanings of his fpoil.

While vulgar fouls of narrow parts,
Wafte life in low mechanic arts,
Let us (fays he), to genius born,
The drudgery of our fathers fcorn.
The Wafp and Drone, you must agree,
Live with more elegance than we.
Like gentlemen they fport and play ;
No bulineis interrupts the day:
Their hours to luxury they give,
And nobly on their heighbours live,
A ftubborn Bee, among the fwarm,
With honeft indignation warm,
Thus from his cell with zeal reply'd:

55

60

65

"I flight thy frowns, and hate thy pride, 70
The laws our native rights protect;
Offending thee, I thofe refpect.
Shall luxury corrupt the hive,
And none against the torrent ttrive?
Exert the honour of your race;
He builds his rife qu your difgrace.
15 Tis induftry our flate maintains;

'Twas honeft toil and honett gains
That rais'd our fires to power and fame.
Be virtuous; fave yourfelves from fhame,
Know that, in felt th ends purfuing,

20 You feramble for the public ruin,"

25

He fpoke; and, from his cell difiifs'd, Was infolently feoff'd and his'd. With him a friend or two refign'd, Difdaining the degenerate kind.

75

85

There Drones (fays he), thefe infects vile, (I treat them in their proper style) May for a time opprefs the ftate: They own our virtue by their hate; By that our merits they reveal, And recommend our public zeal; Difgrac'd by this corrupted crew, We're honour'd by the virtuous few."

Nor was their honour yearly pawn'd;

They ne'er at levees meanly fawn'd,

Their hands, by no corruption ftain'd,
The minifterial bribe difdain'd;
They fery'd the crown with loyal zeal,
Yet jealous of the public weal,
They ftood the bulwark of our laws,
And wore at heart their country's caufe;
By neither place or pension bought,
They spoke and voted as they thought.
Thus did your fires adorn their feat;
And fuel alone are truly great.

If you the paths of learning flight,
You're but a dunce in ftronger light,"
In foremost rank the coward plac'd,
Is more confpicuoufly difgrac'd.

If

you to ferve a paltry end,

To knavish jobbs can condefcend,
We pay you the contempt that's due;
In that you have precedence too.

Whence had you this illuftrious name? From virtue and unblemish'd fame, By birth the name alone defcends; Your honour on yourself depends: Think not your coronet can hide Affuming ignorance and pride. Learning by ftudy must be won 'Twas ne'er entail'd from fon to fon. Superior worth your rank requires ;' For what mankind reveres your fires; If you degenerate from your race, Their merits heighten your difgrace.

A Carrier, every night and morn, Would fee his horfes eat their corn: This funk the hoftler's vails, 'tis true; But then his horfes had their due.

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

Were we fo cautious in all cafes,

50

Small gain would rife from greater places.

The manger now had all its meafure ;
He heard their grinding teeth with pleasure;
When all at once confufion rung;
They fnorted, joftled, bit, and fung.
A pack-horfe turn'd his head afide,
Foaming, his eye-balls fwell'd with pride,
Good Gods! (fays he) how hard's my lot!
Is then my high defcent forgot?
Reduc'd to drudgery and disgrace
(A life unworthy of my race),
Muft I, too hear the vile attacks
Of ragged ferubs and vulgar hacks?
See fcurvy Roan that brute ill-bred,
Dares from the manger thruft my head!
Shall I, who boaft a noble line,

On offals of thefe creatures dine?
Kick'd by old Ball! fo mean a foe?

My honour fuffers by the blow.

New market fpeaks my grandfire's fame;
All jockeys ftill revere his name:
There yearly are his triumphs told,
There, all his maffy plates enroll'd.
Whene'er led forth upon the plain,
You faw him with a livery train;
Returning, too, with laurels crown'd,
You heard the drums and trumpets found,
Let it then, Sir be understood,

Refpe's my due, for I have blood."

"Vain-glorious fool! (the Carrier cry'd)

Refpect was never paid to pride.
Know 'twas thy giddy wilful heart
Reduc'd thee to this flavifh part,
Did not thy headstrong youth difdain
To learn the conduct of the rein?
Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit,
In vicious frolics fancy fpirit,

What is't to me by whom begot,

Thou reftive, pert, conceited fot?

Your fires I reverence; 'tis their due;
But, worthlefs fool, what's that to you?
Afk all the Carriers on the road,
They'll fay, thy keeping's ill bestow'd;
Then vaunt no more thy noble race,
That neither mends thy ftrength or pace,
What profits me thy boaft of blood?
An afs has more intrinfic good.

By outward fhow let's not be cheated;
An afs fhould like an afs be treated,"

FABLE XII.

PAN AND FORTUNE.

To a young Heir.

COON as your father's death was known. (As if th' eftate had been their own) The gamefters outwardly expreft The decent joy within your breait.

So lavish in your praise they grew,
As fpoke their certain hopes in you.

One counts your income of the year.
How much in ready money clear.

"No houfe, fays he, is more complete ; The garden's elegant and great. How fine the park around it lies! The timber's of a noble fize." Then count his jewels and his plate. Befides, 'tis no entail'd eftate. If cath run low, his lands in fee Are, or for fale or mortgage, free."

Thus they, before you threw the main, Seem to anticipate their gain.

Would you when thieves are known abroad,
Bring forth your treasures in the road?
Would not the fool abet the ftealth,

Who rafhly thus expos'd his wealth?
Yet this you do, whene'er you play
Among the gentlemen of prey.

Could fools to keep their own contrive, On what on whom could gamefters thrive? Is it in charity you game.

To fave your worthy gang from shame?
Unless you furnish'd daily bread,
Which way could idlenefs to be fed?
Could thefe profeffors of deceit.
Within the law no longer cheat,
They must run bolder risks for prey,
And firip the traveller on the way.
Thus in your annual rents they share,
And 'fcape the noofe from year to year.

Confider, ere you make the bett,
That fum might crofs your taylor's debt,
When you the pilfering rattle shake,
Is not your honour, too, at ftake?
Muft you not by mean lies evade
To-morrow's duns from every trade;
By promifes fo often paid,

Is yet your taylor's bill defray'd?

Muft you not pitifully fawn

To fee the defolation fpread,
Pan drops a tear, and hangs his head;
His bofom now with fury burns ;
Beneath his hoof the dice he fpurns.
Cards, too, in peevish paffion torn,
The fport of whirling winds are borne.

"To fnails inveterate hate I bear, Who spoil the verdure of the year; The caterpillar I deteft,

25 The blooming Spring's voracious pest;

30

The locuft, too, whofe ravenous band
Spreads fudden famine o'er the land.
But what are these? the dice's throw
At once hath laid a foreft low.
The cards are dealt, the bett is made,
And the wide park hath loft its shade,
Thus is my kingdom's pride defac'd,
And all its antient glories wafte.
All this (he cries) is Fortune's doing:
35 'Tis thus fhe meditates my ruin.

By Fortune, that falfe, fickle jade,
More havock in one hour is made,
Than all the hungry infect race,
Combin'd, can in an age deface."

65

70

75

85

90

95

To have your butcher's writ withdrawn? This must be done. In debts of play, Your honour suffers no delay;

Is 't I who cog or palm the dice?

Did I the fhuffling art reveal,

To mark the cards, or range the deal?'
In all th' einployments men pursue,
I mind the leaft what gamefters do.
There may (if computation's juft)
One now and then my conduct trust.
I blame the fool, for what can I,
When ninety-nine my power defy?
Thefe truft alone their fingers' ends,
And not one ftake on me depends.
Whene'er the gaming-board is fet,
Two claffes of mankind are met;
But, if we count the greedy race,
The knaves fill up the greater space.
'Tis a grofs error held in fchools,
That fortune always favours fools.

60

120

In play it never bears difpute;

That doctrine thefe fell'd oaks confute.