The Shepherd's DoG and the WOLF.
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 spread the toils and watch'd the fnare :
In vain the dog purfu'd his pace,
The fleeter robber mock'd the chace.
As Lightfoot rang'd the foreft round,
By chance his foe's retreat he found.
Let us a while the war fufpend,
And reafon as from friend to friend.
A truce? replies the Wolf. "Tis done.
The dog the parley thus begun.
How can that strong intrepid mind
Attack a weak defenceless kind?
Those jaws should prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood.
Great fouls with generous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt.
How harmless is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.
Friend, fays the Wolf, the matter weigh;
Nature defign'd us beasts of prey;
As fuch, when hunger finds a treat,
'Tis neceffary Wolves fhould eat.
If mindful of the bleating weal,
Thy bofom burn with real zeal;
Hence, and thy tyrant lord befeech,
To him repeat the moving speech:
A Wolf eats sheep but now and then,
Ten thousands are devour'd by men.
An open foe may prove a curse,
But a pretended friend is worse.
The PAINTER who pleafed nobody and every body.
EST men fufpect your tale untrue,
Keep probability in view.
The trav'ler, leaping o'er those bounds,
The credit of his book confounds.
Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes ev'n his real courage doubted.
But flatt'ry never seems abfurd;
The flatter'd always take your word;
Impoffibilities feem juft;
They take the strongest praise on trust.
Hyperboles, tho' ne'er fo great,
Will ftill come fhort of felf-conceit.
very like a Painter drew, That ev'ry eye the picture knew ;
He hit complexion, feature, air,
So just the life itself was there.
No flatt'ry, with his colours laid,
To bloom reftor'd the faded maid:
He gave each mufcle all its ftrength;
The mouth, the chin, the nose's length,
His honeft pencil touch'd with truth,
And mark'd the date of age and youth.
He loft his friends, his practice fail'd;
Truth fhould not always be reveal'd;
In dufty piles his pictures lay,
For no one sent the fecond pay.
Two buftos, fraught with ev'ry grace,
A VENUS' and APOLLO's face,
He plac'd in view, refolv'd to please,
Whoever fat he drew from these,
From these corrected ev'ry feature,
And spirited each aukward creature.
All things were fet; the hour was come,
His pallet ready o'er his thumb,
My Lord appear'd, and feated right
In proper attitude and light,
The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,
Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece,
Of TITIAN's tints, of GUIDO's air;
Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there
Might well a RAPHAEL's hand require,
To give them all the native fire;
The feature fraught with sense and wit,
You'll grant are very hard to hit ;
But yet with patience you shall view
As much as paint and art can do.
Obferve the work. My Lord reply'd,
Till now I thought my mouth was wide;
Befides, my nofe, is fomewhat long;
Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young.
Oh! pardon me, the artist cry'd,
In this we painters must decide.
The piece ev'n common eyes muft ftrike,
I warrant it extremely like.
My Lord examin'd it a-new;
No looking-glafs feem'd half fo true.
A Lady came, with borrow'd grace
He from his VENUS form'd her face.
Her lover prais'd the Painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
To ev'ry age fome charm he lent;
Ev'n Beauties were almoft content.
Through all the town his art they prais'd;
His custom grew, his price was rais’d.
Had he the real likeness shown,
Would any man the picture own?
But when thus happily he wrought,
Each found the likeness in his thought.
OW fond are men of rule and place,
OW fond are men of rule and placbafe!
These cannot bear an equal nigh,.
But from fuperior merit fly.
They love the cellar's vulgar joke,
And lofe their hours in ale and fmoke.
There o'er fome petty club prefide;
So poor, fo paltry is their pride!
Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit,
In hopes to be fupreme in wit.
If these can read, to thefe I write,droit st To fet their worth in trueft light.
A Lion-cub, of fordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;
Fond of applaufe, he fought the feasts 's
Of vulgar and ignoble beasts;
With affes all his time he spent,
Their club's perpetual prefident.
He caught their manners, looks and airs :
An ass in every thing, but ears!
If e'er his highness meant a joke,
They grinn'd applause before he spoke ;
But at each word what shouts of praise !
Good gods! how natural he brays!
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