The nightingale was fet afide. A forward daw his room supply'd.
This bird (fays he) for bus'ness fit, Hath both fagacity and wit.
With all his turns, and shifts, and tricks,
He's docile, and at nothing sticks.
Then with his neighbours one fo free
At all times will connive at me.
The hawk had due distinction shown,
For parts and talents like his own.
Thousands of hireling cocks attend him,
As bluft'ring bullies to defend him.
At once the ravens were discarded,
And magpies with their pofts rewarded.
Those fowls of omen 1 deteft,
That pry into another's neft,
State lies must lose all good intent;
For they foresee and croak th' event.
My friends ne'er think, but talk by rote,
Speak what they're taught, and so to vote.
When rogues like thefe (a Sparrow cries)
To honours and employments rife,
I court no favour, ask no place;
From fuch preferment is disgrace.
Within my thatch'd retreat I find
(What these ne'er feel) true peace of mind.
The BABOON and the POULTRY,
TO A LEVEE-HUNTER.
E frequently misplace esteem
By judging men by what they seem. To birth, wealth, pow'r, we fhould allow Precedence, and our lowest bow.
In that is due diftinction fhown.
Efteem is virtue's right alone.
With partial eye we're apt to fee
The man of noble pedigree.
We're prepoffeft my lord inherits
In fome degree his grandfire's merits;
For those we find upon record:
But find him nothing but my lord.
When we with fuperficial view,
Gaze on the rich, we're dazzled too.
We know that wealth, well understood,
Hath frequent pow'r of doing good.
Then fancy that the thing is done,
As if the Pow'r and Will were one.
Thus oft the cheated crowd adore
The thriving knaves that keep 'em poor.
The cringing train of pow'r furvey.
What creatures are fo low as they !
With what obfequiousness they bend! To what vile actions condefcend! Their rife is on their meanness built, And flatt'ry is their smallest guilt. What homage, rev'rence, adoration, In ev'ry age, in ev'ry nation, Have fycophants to pow'r addreft! No matter who the pow'r poffeft. Let minifters be what they will, You find their levees always fill: Ev'n those who have perplex'd a state, Whofe actions claim contempt and hate, Had wretches to applaud their schemes, Though more abfurd than madmen's dreams. When barb'rous Moloch was invok'd, The blood of infants only fmoak'd; But here (unless all hift'ry lyes)
Whole realms have been a facrifice.
Look through all courts: "Tis pow'r we find
The gen❜ral idol of mankind;
There worshipp'd under ev'ry shape:
Alike the lion, fox, and ape
Are follow'd by time-ferving flaves,
Rich prostitutes and needy knáves.
Who then shall glory in his post?
How frail his pride, how vain his boast!
The followers of his profp'rous hour
Are as unstable as his pow'r.
Pow'r, by the breath of flatt'ry nurst,'
The more it fwells, is nearer burst :
The bubble breaks, the gewgaw ends,
And in a dirty tear defcends.
Once on a time, an ancient maid,
By wishes and by time decay'd,
To cure the pangs of reftlefs thought,
In birds and beafts amufement fought:
Dogs, parrots, apes, her hours employ'd
With these alone fhe talk'd and toy'd,
A huge Baboon her fancy took,
(Almost a man in fize and look)
He finger'd ev'ry thing he found,
And mimick'd all the fervants round;
Then too his parts and ready wit
Show'd him for ev'ry bus'nefs fit.
With all these talents, 'twas but just
That Pug should hold a place of truft :
So to her fav'rite was affign'd
The charge of all her feather'd kind;
"Twas his to tend 'em eve and morn,
And portion out their daily worn.
Behold him now, with haughty ftride,
Affume a ministerial pride.
The morning rofe. In hope of picking,
Swans, turkeys, peacocks, ducks, and chicken,
Fowls of all ranks furround his hut,
To worship his important ftrut.
The minister appears. The crowd,
Now here, now there, obfequious bow'd.
This prais'd his parts, and that his face,
T'other his dignity in place.
From bill to bill the flatt'ry ran :
He hears and bears it like a man:
For, when we flatter felf-conceit,
We but his fentiments repeat.
If we're too fcrupulously juft,
What profit's in a place of truft?
The common practice of the great,
Is, to fecure a fnug retreat.
So Pug began to turn his brain
(Like other folks in place) on gain,
An apple-woman's ftall was near,
Well stock'd with fruits through all the year,
Here ev'ry day he cram'd his guts,
Hence were his hoards of pears and nuts;
For 'twas agreed (in way of trade)
His payments should in corn be made.
The stock of grain was quickly spent,
And no account which way it went.
Then too the Poultry's ftarv'd condition
Caus'd fpeculations of fufpicion.
The facts were prov'd beyond difpute;
Pug must refund his hoards of fruit;
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