Whene'er to vifit light I deign,
What flocks of fowl compofe my train!
Like flaves, they crowd my flight behind,
And own me of fuperior kind.
The farmer laugh'd, and thus reply'd:
Thou dull important lump of pride,
Dar'ft thou with that harsh grating tongue
Depreciate birds of warbling fong?
Indulge thy fpleen. Know, men and fowl
Regard thee, as thou art, an Owl.
Befides, proud blockhead, be not vain
Of what thou call'ft thy flaves and train.
Few follow wisdom, or her rules;
Fools in derifion follow fools.
Juggler long through all the town
Had rais'd his fortune and renown;
You'd think (fo far his art tranfcends)
The devil at his fingers ends.
Vice heard his fame, fhe read his bill;
Convinc'd of his inferior skill,
She fought his booth, and from the crowd
Defy'd the man of art aloud.
Is this then he fo fam'd for flight?
Can this flow bungler cheat your fight?
Dares he with me difpute the prize?
I leave it to impartial eyes.
Provok'd, the Juggler cry'd, 'Tis done.
In fcience I fubmit to none.
Thus faid. The cups and balls he play'd;
By turns, this here, that there, convey'd,
The cards, obedient to his words,
Are by a fillip turn'd to birds.
His little boxes change the grain:
Trick after trick deludes the train.
He shakes his bag, he shews all fair;
His fingers fpread, and nothing there;
Then bids it rain with fhowers of gold,
And now his iv'ry eggs are told.
But when from thence the hen he draws,
Amaz'd spectators hum applause.
Vice now stept forth, and took the place
With all the forms of his grimace.
This magic looking-glafs, fhe cries,
(There, hand it round) will charm your eyes.
Each eager eye the fight defir'd,
And ev'ry man himself admir'd.
Next, to a fenator addreffing:
See this bank-note; obferve the bleffing.
Upon his lips a padlock fhone.
A fecond puff the magic broke;
The padlock vanish'd, and he spoke.
Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board,
All full, with heady liquor ftor'd,
By clean conveyance disappear,
And now two bloody fwords are there.
A purfe fhe to a thief expos'd;
At once his ready fingers clos'd.
his fift, the treasure's fled;
He fees a halter in its ftead.
She bids ambition hold a wand;
He grafps a hatchet in his hand.
A box of charity fhe fhows."
Blow here; and a church-warden blows. "Tis vanish'd with conveyance neat,
And on the table fmokes a treat.
She shakes the dice, the board she knocks,
And from all pockets fills her box.
She next a meagre rake addrest.
This picture fee; her shape, her breast!
What youth, and what inviting eyes!
Hold her, and have her. With furprise,
His hand expos'd a box of pills,
And a loud laugh proclaim'd his ills,
A counter in a mifer's hand,
Grew twenty guineas at command.
She bids his heir the fum retain,
And 'tis a counter now again.
A guinea with her touch you fee
Takes ev'ry fhape but Charity;
And not one thing you faw, or drew,
But chang'd from what was first in view.
The Juggler now in grief of heart,
With this fubmiffion own'd her art.
Can I such matchlefs flight withstand ?
How practice hath improv'd your hand!
But now and then I cheat the throng;
You ev'ry day, and all day long.
PON a time a neighing steed
Who graz'd among a num'rous breed,
With mutiny had fir'd the train,
And spread diffenfion through the plain.
On matters that concern'd the state
The council met in grand debate.
A colt, whofe eye-balls flam'd with ire,
Elate with ftrength and youthful fire,
In hafte ftept forth before the rest,
And thus the list'ning throng addrest,
Good gods! how abject is our race.
Condemn'd to flav'ry and difgrace!
Shall we our fervitude retain,
Because our fires have borne the chain ?
Confider, friends, your strength and might;
'Tis conqueft to affert your right.
How cumb'rous is the gilded coach!
The pride of man is our reproach.
Were we defign'd for daily toil,
To drag the plough-fhare through the foil;
To sweat in harness through the road,
Το groan beneath the carrier's load?
How feeble are the two legg'd kind!
What force is in our nerves combin'd!
Shall then our nobler jaws fubmit
To foam and champ the galling bit?
Shall haughty man my back beftride?
Shall the sharp fpur provoke my fide?
Forbid it heav'ns! Reject the rein;
Your fhame, your infamy difdain.
Let him the lion firft controul,
And still the tyger's famish'd growl.
Let us, like them, our freedom claim,
And make him tremble at our name.
A general nod approv'd the cause,
And all the circle neigh'd applaufe.
When, lo! with grave and folemn pace,
A Steed advanc'd before the race,
With age and long experience wife;
Around he caft his thoughtful eyes,
And, to the murmurs of the train,
Thus fpoke the Neftor of the plain.
When I had health and ftrength, like you,
The toils of fervitude I knew.
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