Jove wonder'd at his bold addreffing: For how precarious is the bleffing!
A wife he takes. And now for heirs Again he worries heav'n with prayers. Jove nods affent. Two hopeful boys And a fine girl reward his joys.
Now, more folicitous he
And set their future lives in view :
He faw that all respect and duty
Were paid to wealth, to power, and beauty. Once more, he cries, accept my prayer ; Make my lov'd progeny thy care.
Let my first hope, my fav'rite boy,
All fortune's richest gifts enjoy. My next with ftrong ambition fire: May favour teach him to afpire ; Till he the step of pow'r afcend, And courtiers to their idol bend. With ev'ry grace, with ev'ry charm, My daughter's perfect features arm. If Heav'n approve, a Father's bless'd, Jove fmiles, and grants his full request. The first, a miser at the heart, Studious of ev'ry griping art,
Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain, And all his life devotes to gain.
He feels no joy, his cares increase, He neither wakes nor fleeps in peace ;
In fancy'd want (a wretch compleat) He ftarves, and yet he dares not eat. The next to fudden honours grew; The thriving art of courts he knew: He reach'd the height of power and place; Then fell, the victim of difgrace. Beauty with early bloom fupplies His daughter's cheek, and points her eyes. The vain coquette each fuit difdains, And glories in her lover's pains. With age fhe fades, each lover flies, Contemn'd, forlorn, the pines and dies. When Jove the Father's grief furvey'd, And heard him Heav'n and Fate upbraid, Thus fpoke the God. By outward show, Men judge of happiness and woe: Shall ignorance of good and ill Dare to direct th' eternal Will? Seek virtue; and, of that poffeft, To Providence refign the reft.
The Two MONKEYS.
HE learned, full of inward pride, The Fops of outward show deride; The Fop, with learning at defiance, Scoffs at the pedant, and the science:
The Don, a formal, folemn ftrutter, Defpifes Monfieur's airs and flutter; While Monfieur mocks the formal fool, Who looks, and speaks, and walks by rule. Britain, a medley of the twain,
As pert as France, as grave as Spain; In fancy wifer than the reft,
Laughs at them both, of both the jeft. Is not the poet's chiming clofe Cenfur'd by all the fons of profe? While bards of quick imagination Defpife the fleepy prose narration. Men laugh at Apes, they men contemn ; For what are we, but Apes to them?
Two Monkeys went to Southwark fair, No criticks had a fourer air :
They forc'd their way through draggled folks, Who gap'd to catch Jack-pudding's jokes ; Then took their tickets for the show,
And got by chance the foremost row. To see their grave observing face, Provok'd a laugh through all the place. Brother, fays Pug, and turn'd his head, The rabble's monft'rously ill bred. Now through the booth loud hiffes ran ; Nor ended till the fhow began. The tumbler whirls the flip-flap round, With sommersets he shakes the ground;
The cord beneath the dancer springs ; Aloft in air the vaulter swings; Distorted now, now prone depends, Now through his twisted arms afcends: The crowd, in wonder and delight, With clapping hands applaud the fight. With fmiles, quoth Pug; If pranks like these The giant Apes of reafon please,
How would they wonder at our arts! They must adore us for our parts. High on the twig I've feen you cling; Play, twift and turn in airy ring: How can thofe clumsy things, like me, Fly with a bound from tree to tree? But yet, by this applause, we find These emulators of our kind
Difcern our worth, our parts regard, Who our mean mimicks thus reward. Brother, the grinning mate replies, In this I grant that Man is wife. While good example they pursue, We must allow fome praise is due: But when they ftrain beyond their guide, I laugh to fcorn the mimic pride, For how fantastic is the fight,
To meet men always bolt upright, Because we fometimes walk on two! I hate the imitating crew.
The OWL and the FARMER.
N Owl of grave deport and mien,
Who (like the Turk) was feldom feen, Within a barn had chose his ftation, As fit for prey and contemplation. Upon a beam aloft he fits,
And nods, and feems to think, by fits. So have I feen a man of news, Or Poft-boy, or Gazette peruse;
Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound, And fix the fate of Europe round. Sheaves pil'd on fheaves hid all the floor. At dawn of morn, to view his store The Farmer came. The hooting Guest His felf-importance thus expreft.
Reason in man is mere pretence : How weak, how fhallow is his fenfe! To treat with scorn the bird of night, Declares his folly, or his fpite. Then too, how partial is his praise ! The lark's, the linet's chirping lays To his ill-judging ears are fines And nightingales are all divine. But the more knowing feather'd race See wisdom stamp'd upon my face.
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