And drudg'd as vulgar Needles do, FABLE XVII. THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND THE WOLF. A WOLF, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravag'd the plains, and thinn'd the fold; Deep in the wood fecure he lay, The thefts of night regal'd the day. In vain the shepherd's wakeful care Had fpread the toils, and watch'd the snare;. The fleeter robber mock'd the chace. As Lightfoot rang'd the foreft round, "A truce?" replies the Wolf. 'Tis done. The Dog the parley thus begun. "How can that strong intrepid mind Attack a weak defencelefs kind? Those jaws should prey on nobler food, Great fouls with generous pity melt, "Friend, fays the Wolf, the matter weigh; Nature defign'd us beafts of prey; As fuch, when hunger finds a treat, An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse." FABLE XVIII. THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY LEST men fuspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view. The traveller leaping o'er thofe bounds,. Who with his tongue hath armies routed, The flatter'd always take your word: They take the strongest praife on truft.. So 25 He He hit complexion, feature, air, 20 25 30 And fpirited each aukward creature. All things were fet; the hour was come, His palette ready o'er his thumb. My Lord appear'd; and, feated right, 35 In proper attitude and light, The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,. Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air; Thofe eyes, my Lord, the spirit there 40 Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire; The features, fraught with fense and wit, But But yet with patience you shall view As much as paint and art can do.” Obferve the work. My Lord replied, "Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Befides, my nofe is fomewhat long; 45 Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young." 50 "Oh! pardon me, the artift cry'd; In this, we Painters must decide. The piece ev'n common eyes must strike, 55 бо Through all the town his art they prais'd; 65 His cuftom grew, his price was rais'd. Had he the real likenefs fhown, Would any man the picture own? Thefe cannot bear an equal nigh, They love the cellar's vulgar joke, And lofe their hours in ale and smoke. Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit, If thefe can read, to these I write, A Lion-cub, of fordid mind, Avoided all the lion kind; Fond of applaufe, he fought the feafts With affes all his time he spent, He caught their manners, looks, and airs; of their own difgrace." "Why |