By that, in former reigns, 'tis faid,
The knave in power hath fenates led,
By that alone he sway'd debates,
Enrich'd himself and beggar'd states.
Forego your boaft. You must conclude,
That's most efteem'd that's most purfu'd.
Think too, in what a woful plight
That wretch muft live whose pocket's light.
Are not his hours by want depreft ?

Penurious care corrodes his breast.
Without refpect, or love, or friends,
His folitary day defcends.

You might, fays CUPID, doubt my parts,
My knowledge too in human hearts,
Should I the pow'r of gold difpute,
Which, great examples might confute,
I know, when nothing else prevails,
Perfuafive money feldom fails;
That beauty too (like other wares)
Its price, as well as confcience, bears.
Then marriage (as of late profeft)
Is but a money-job at best.
Confent, compliance may be fold:
But love's beyond the price of gold.
Smugglers there are, who, by retale,
Expofe what they call love, to fale,
Such bargains are an arrant cheat:
You purchase flatt'ry and deceit.

Thofe

Those who true love have ever try'd,
(The common cares of life fupply'd)
No wants endure, no wishes make,
But ev'ry real joy partake.

All comfort on themfelves depends;

They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends.
Love then hath ev'ry blifs in ftore:

'Tis friendship, and 'tis fomething more.
Each other ev'ry wish they give.
Not to know love, is not to live.
Or love, or money (TIME reply'd)
Were men the question to decide,
Would bear the prize : on both intent,
My boon's neglected or mis-spent.

"Tis I who measure vital space,

And deal out years to human race.

Though little priz'd, and feldom fought;
Without me love and gold are nought.
How does the mifer time employ ?

Did I e'er fee him life enjoy?

By me forfook, the hoards he won,

Are scatter'd by his lavish fon.

By me all useful arts are gain'd;

Wealth, learning, wisdom is attain’d.

Who then would think (since such my pow'r)
That e'er I knew an idle hour?

So fubtile, and fo fwift I fly,
Love's not more fugitive than I.

Who hath not heard coquettes complain
Of days, months, years, mif-fpent in vain!
For time mif-us'd they pine and waste,
And love's sweet pleasures never taste :
Those who direct their time aright,

7

If love or wealth their hopes excite,
In each purfuit fit hours employ'd,
And both by time have been enjoy'd.
How heedlefs then are mortals grown!
How little is their int'reft known!
In ev'ry view they ought to mind me
For when once loft they never find

me.

He fpoke. The gods no more conteft,

And his fuperior gift confeft;
That time (when truly understood)

Is the most precious earthly good.

FABLE XIV.

The Owl, the SWAN, the Cock, the SPIDER, the Ass, and the FARMER.

TO A MOTHER,

Converfing with your fprightly boys,

Your eyes have spoke the mother's joys.
With what delight I've heard you quote
Their fayings in imperfect note!
I grant, in body and in mind,
Nature appears profusely kind.

Truft

Truft not to that. A& you your part;
Imprint juft morals on their heart;
Impartially their talents fcan:

Juft education forms the man,
Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)
Each lot of life's already thrown;

That this fhall plead, the next fhall fight,
The laft affert the church's right.
I cenfure not the fond intent;
But how precarious is th' event!
By talents mifapply'd and croft,
Confider, all your fons are loft.

One day (the tale's by MARTIAL penn❜d)
A father thus addrefs'd his friend.

To train my boy, and call forth fenfe,
You know I've ftuck at no expence ;
I've try'd him in the fev'ral arts,
(The lad no doubt hath latent parts)
Yet trying all, he nothing knows ;
But, crab-like, rather backward goes..
Teach me what yet remains undone ;
'Tis your advice fhall fix my fon.

Sir, fays the friend; I've weigh'd the matter;
Excufe me, for I scorn to flatter:

Make him (nor think his genius checkt)
A herald or an architect.

Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known)
He heard th' advice, and took his own.

The boy wants wit; he's fent to school,
Where learning but improves the fool:
The college next must give him parts,
And cram him with the lib'ral arts.
Whether he blunders at the bar,
Or owes his infamy to war;
Or if by licence or degree

The fexton share the doctor's fee;
Or from the pulpit by the hour
He weekly floods of nonsense pour;
We find (th' intent of nature foil'd)
A taylor or a butcher spoil'd.

Thus minifters have royal boons
Conferr'd on blockheads and buffoons
In fpight of nature, merit, wit,
Their friends for ev'ry poft were fit.
But now let ev'ry mufe confefs
That merit finds its due fuccefs.
Th' examples of our days regard;
Where's virtue feen without reward?
Diftinguish'd and in place you find
Defert and worth of ev'ry kind.
Survey the rev'rend bench, and fee
Religion, learning, piety:
The patron, ere he recommends,
Sees his own image in his friend's.
Is honefty difgrac'd and poor?
What is't to us what was before?

We