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His flutt'ring fhoulder-knot admire.

Hear and improve, he pertly cries;
I come to make a nation wife.

Weigh your own worth; support your place,
The next in rank to human race.

In cities long I pafs'd my days,

Convers'd with men, and learn'd their ways.
Their drefs, their courtly manners fee;
Reform your state, and copy me.
Seek ye to thrive; in flatt'ry deal;
Your fcorn, your hate, with that conceal.
Seem only to regard your friends,
But use them for your private ends.
Stint not to truth the flow of wit;
Be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit.
Bend all your force to spatter merit
Scandal is conversation's spirit.
Boldly to ev'ry thing pretend,

And men your talents fhall commend.
I knew the great. Obferve me right;
So fhall you grow like man polite.

He spoke, and bow'd. With mutt'ring jaws
The wond'ring circle grinn'd applaufe.
Now, warm with malice, envy, spite,
Their most obliging friends they bite;
And fond to copy human ways,
Practise new mischiefs all their days.

Thus

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Thus the dull lad, too tall for school,
With travel finishes the fool;

Studious of ev'ry coxcomb's airs,

He drinks, games, dreffes, whores, and fwears;
O'erlooks with scorn all virtuous arts,
For vice is fitted to his parts.

FABLE XV.

The PHILOSOPHER and the PHEASANTS,

HE Sage, awak'd at early day,

TH

Through the deep foreft took his way;

Drawn by the music of the groves,

Along the winding gloom he roves :
From tree to tree, the warbling throats
Prolong the sweet alternate notes.
But where he past, he terror threw,
The fong broke short, the warblers flew
The thrushes chatter'd with affright,
And nightingales abhorr'd his fight:
All animals before him ran,

To shun the hateful fight of man.

Whence is this dread of ev'ry creature?

Fly they our figure or our nature?
As thus he walk'd in mufing thought,
His ear imperfect accents caught;

With

With cautious ftep he nearer drew,
By the thick shade conceal'd from view.
High on the branch a Pheasant stood,
Around her all the lift'ning brood;
Proud of the blefings of her neft,
She thus a mother's care exprefs'd.

No dangers here shall circumvent,
Within the woods enjoy content.
Sooner the hawk or vulture truft
Than man; of animals the worst.
In him ingratitude you find,

A vice peculiar to the kind.

The sheep, whofe annual fleece is dy'd,
To guard his health, and ferve his pride,
Forc'd from his fold and native plain,
Is in the cruel fhambles flain.

The fwarms, who, with induftrious skill,
His hives with wax and honey fill',
In vain whole fummer days employ'd,
Their flores are fold, the race destroy'd.
What tribute from the goofe is paid!
Does not her wing all fcience aid ?
Does it not lovers hearts explain,
And drudge to raife the merchant's gain?
What now rewards this general use ?
He takes the quills, and eats the goofe.
Man then avoid, deteft his ways;
So fafety shall prolong your days.

When

When fervices are thus acquitted,
Be fure we Pheasants must be spitted.

A

FABLE XVI.

The PIN and the NEEDLE.

Pin who long had ferv'd a beauty, Proficient in the toilette's duty, Had form'd her fleeve, confin'd her hair, Or giv'n her knot a smarter air, Now nearest to her heart was plac'd, Now in her manteau's tail difgrac'd: But could she partial fortune blame, Who faw her lovers ferv'd the fame?

1

At length from all her honours caft,
Through various turns of life fhe past;
Now glitter'd on a taylor's arm;
Now kept a beggar's infant warm;
Now, rang'd within a miser's coat,
Contributes to his yearly groat;
Now, rais'd again from low approach,
She vifits in the doctor's coach;
Here, there, by various fortune toft,
At laft in Gresham-hall was loft.
Charm'd with the wonders of the show,
On ev'ry fide, above, below,

She now of this or that inquires,
What least was understood admires.

"Tis plain, each thing fo ftruck her mind, Her head's of virtuofo kind.

And pray what's this, and this, dear Sir? A needle, fays the interpreter.

She knew the name.

And thus the fool

Addrefs'd her as a taylor's tool.
A Needle with that filthy flone,
Quite idle, all with ruft o'er-grown!
You better might employ your parts,
And aid the fempstress in her arts.
But tell me how the friendship grew,
Between that paultry flint and you?

Friend, fays the Needle, cease to blame;
I follow real worth and fame.

Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art,
That virtue virtues can impart ?

Of all his talents I partake,

Who then can fuch a friend forfake?

'Tis I direct the pilot's hand

To fhun the rocks and treacherous fand:

By me the distant world is known,

And either India is our own.

Had I with milliners been bred,

What had I been? the guide of thread,
And drudg'd as vulgar Needles do,
Of no more confequence than you.

FABLE

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