FABLE XII:

THE COLT AND THE FARMER.

ELL me, Corinna, if you can,

Τε

Why fo averse, so coy to man?
Did nature, lavish of her care,
From her best pattern form you fair
That you, ungrateful to her cause,
Should mock her gifts, and spurn her laws?
And mifer-like, with hold that store,
Which, by imparting, blesses more?

Beauty's a gift, by heav'n affign'd,
The portion of the female kind;
For this the yielding maid demands
Protection at her lover's hands;
And though by wafting years it fade,
Remembrance tells him, once 'twas paid.
And will you then this wealth conceal;
For age to ruft, or time to steal?
The fummer of your youth to rove,
A ftranger to the joys of love?
Then, when life's winter haftens on,
And youth's fair heritage is gone,
Dow'rlefs to court some peasant's arms,
To guard your wither'd age from harms;
No gratitude to warm his breast,
For blooming beauty, once poffefs'd;
How will you curse that stubborn pride,
Which drove your bark across the tide,
And failing before folly's wind,
Left fenfe and happiness behind?

Corinna, left these whims prevails
To fuch as you, I write my tale.

A COLT, for blood, and mettled speed,

The choiceft of the running breed,

Of youthful strength, and beauty vain,
Refus'd fubjection to the rein.

In vain the groom's officious skill

Oppos'd his pride, and check'd his will;
In vain the master's forming care

Restrain'd with threats, or footh'd with pray'r
Of freedom proud, and fcorning man,
Wild o'er the fpacious plains he ran.

Where-e'er luxuriant nature spread
Her flow'ry carpet o'er the mead,
Or bubbling streams foft-gliding pafs,
To cool and freshen up the grafs,
Difdaining bounds, he cropp'd the blade,
And wanton'd in the spoil he made.

In plenty thus the fummer pafs'd,
Revolving winter came at laft;
The trees no more a shelter yield,
The verdure withers from the field,
Perpetual fnows invest the ground,
In icy chains the ftreams are bound;
Cold, nipping winds, and rattling hail,
His lank, unfhelter'd fides affail.

As round he caft his rueful eyes,
He faw the thatch'd-roof cottage rife;
The profpect touch'd his heart with cheer,
And promis'd kind deliv'rance near.
A ftable, erft his fcorn and hate,
Was now become his wish'd retreat
VOL. VII.

His paffion cool, his pride forgot,
A Farmer's welcome yard he fought.
The Mafter faw his woeful plight,
His limbs, that totter'd with his weight,
And, friendly, to the ftable led,
And faw him litter'd, drefs'd, and fed.
In flothful ease, all night he lay;
The fervants rose at break of day;
The market calls. Along the road,
His back must bear the pond'rous load
In vain he struggles, or complains,
Inceffant blows reward his pains.
To-morrow varies but his toil;

Chain'd to the plough, he breaks the foil;
While fcanty meals, at night repay
The painful labours of the day.

Subdu'd by toil, with anguish rent,
His felf-upbraidings found a vent.
Wretch that I am! he fighing faid,
By arrogance and folly led,

Had but my reftive youth been brought
To learn the leffon nature taught,
Then had I, like my fires of yore,
The prize from every courfer bore ;
While man beftow'd rewards, and praise,
And females crown'd my latter days.
Now lafting fervitude's my lot,
My birth contemn'd, my speed forgot,
Doom'd am I, for my pride, to bear
A living death, from year to year.

FABLE XIII.

THE OWL, AND THE NIGHTINGALE

T

O know the mistress' humour right,

See if her maids are clean, and tight;

If Betty waits without her stays,

She copies but her lady's ways.

When mifs comes in with boift'rous fhout,

And drops no curtly going out,

Depend upon 't, mamma is one,
Who reads, or drinks too much alone.

If bottled beer her thirst affwage,
She feels enthusiastic rage,
And burns with ardour to inherit
The gifts, and workings of the spirit.
If learning crack her giddy brains,
No remedy, but death, remains.
Sum up the various ills of life,
And all are sweet, to such a wife.
At home, fuperior wit she vaunts,
And twits her husband with his wants;
Her ragged offspring all around,
Like pigs, are wallowing on the ground a
Impatient ever of controul,

She knows no order, but of foul;
With books her litter'd floor is spread,
Of nameless authors, never read;

Foul linen, petticoats, and lace
Fill up the intermediate space.

D

Abroad, at vifitings, her tongue Is never ftill and always wrong; All meanings fhe defines away,

And ftands, with truth and fenfe, at bay.

If e'er the meets a gentle heart,
Skill'd in the housewife's ufeful art,
Who makes her family her care,

And builds contentment's temple there,
She ftarts at fuch mistakes in nature,

And cries, Lord help us! what a creature!
Meliffa, if the moral ftrike,

You'll find the fable not unlike.

AN Owl, puff'd up with felf-conceit,
Lov'd learning better than his meat;
Old manuscripts he treafur'd up,
And rummag'd every grocer's fhop;
At paflry-cooks was known to ply,
And ftrip, for science, every pye.
For modern poetry and wit,

He had read all that Blackmore writ ;
So intimate with Curl was grown,
His learned treasures were his own;
To all his authors had accefs,
And fometimes would correct the prefs.
In logic he acquir'd fuch knowledge,
You'd fwear him fellow of a college ;.
Alike to every art, and science,
His daring genius bid defiance,

And swallow'd wisdom, with that haste,
That cits do custards at a feaft.

Within the fhelter of a wood,
One ev'ning, as he mufing ftood,
Hard by, upon a leafy spray,
A Nightingale began his lay.
Sudden he tarts, with anger ftung,
And, fcreeching, interrupts the song.
Pert, busy thing, thy airs give o'er,
And let my contemplations foar.
What is the mufic of thy voice,
But jarring diffonance, and noife?

Be wife. True harmony, thou'lt find,
Not in the throat, but in the mind;
By empty chirping not attain'd,
But by laborious study gain'd.
Go read the authors Pope explodes,
Fathom the depth of Cibber's odes,
With modern plays improve thy wit,
Read all the learning Henicy writ;
And, if thou needs muft fing, fing then,
And emulate the ways of men ;
So fhalt thou grow, like me, refin'd,
And bring improvement to thy kind.

Thou wretch, the little Warbler cry'd,
Made up of ignorance, and pride,
Aik all the birds, and they'll declare,
A greater blockhead wings not air.
Read o'er thyfelf, thy talents fean,
Science was only meant for man.
No ufelefs authors me moleft,
I mind the duties of my neft;
With careful wing protect my young,
And chear their ev'nings with a fong.

Thus, following nature, and her laws,
From men, and birds I claim applaufe;
While, nurs'd in pedantry, and floth
An Owl is fcorn'd alike by both.

FABLE XIV.

THE SPARROW, AND THE DOVE

T was, as learn'd traditions say,
an

When pleasure, ever on the wing,
Return'd, companion of the spring,
And cheer'd the birds with am'rous heat
Inftructing little hearts to beat;

A Sparrow, frolic, gay, and young,
Of bold addrefs, and flippant tongue,
Juft left his lady of a night,
Like him, to follow new delight.

The youth, of many a conquest vain,
Flew off to seek the chirping train;
The chirping train he quickly found,
And with a faucy ease, bow'd round.

For every the his bosom burns,
And this, and that he wooes by turns;
And here a figh, and there a bill,
And here thofe eyes, fo form'd to kill!
And now, with ready tongue, he ftrings
Unmeaning, foft, refiftlefs things;
With vows, and dem-me's skill'd to woo,
As other pretty fellows do.

Not that he thought this fhort essay
A prologue needful to his play;
No, trust me, fays our learned letter,
He knew the virtuous fex much better;
But thefe he held as fpecious arts,
To fhew his own fuperior parts,
The form of decency to fhield,
And give a just pretence to yield.

Thus finishing his courtly play,
He mark'd the fav'rite of the day;
With careless impudence drew near,
And whisper'd Hebrew in her ear;
A hint, which like the mafon's fign,
The confcious can alone divine.

The flutt'ring nymph, expert at feigning,
Cry'd, Sir!-pray Sir, explain your meaning--
Go prate to thofe, that may endure ye-
To me this rudeness !-I'll affure ye !-
Then off the glided, like a fwallow,
As faying-you guess where to follow.
To fuch as know the party fet,
'Tis needless to declare they met ;
The parfon's barn, as authors mention
Confefs'd the fair had apprehenfion.
Her honour there fecure from stain,
She held all farther trifling vain,
No more affected to be coy,
But rush'd, licentious, on the joy.

Hift, love! the male companion cry'd,
Retire a while; I fear we're spy'd.
Nor was the caution vain; he faw
A Turtle, rustling in the ftraw,
While o'er her callow brood fhe hung,
And fondly thus address'd her young.
Ye tender objects of my care!
Peace, peace, ye little helpless pair!
Anon he comes, your gentle fire,
And brings you all your hearts require.
For us, his infants, and his bride,
For us with only love to guide,

3

Our lord affumes an eagle's speed,
And like a lion, dares to bleed.
Nor yet by wintry skies confin'd,
He mounts upon the rudest wind,
From danger tears the vital spoil,
And with affection fweetens toil.
Ah cease, too vent'rous! cease to dare,
In thine, our dearer safety spare!
From him, ye cruel falcons, ftray,
And turn, ye fowlers, far away!

Should I furvive to fee the day,
That tears me from myself away,
That cancels all that heav'n could give,
The life, by which alone I live,
Alas, how more than loft were I,
Who, in the thought, already die!

Ye pow'rs, whom men, and birds obey,
Great rulers of your creatures, fay,
Why mourning comes, by blifs convey'd,
And ev'n the fweets of love allay'd?
Where grows enjoyment, tall, and fair,
Around it twines entangling care;
While fear for what our fouls poffefs,
Enervates every pow'r to blefs;
Yet friendship forms the blifs above,
And, life! what art thou, without love?
Our hero, who had heard apart,
Felt something moving in his heart,
But quickly, with difdain, fupprefs'd
The virtue, rifing in his breast;
And firft be feign'd to laugh aloud,
And next, approaching, fmil'd and bow'd,
Madam, you must not think me rude;
Good-manners never can intrude;
I vow I come through pure good-nature-
(Upon my foul a charming creature!)
Are these the comforts of a wife?
This careful, cloister'd, mopeing life?
No doubt, that odious thing call'd duty,
Is a sweet province for a beauty.
Thou pretty ignorance! thy will
Is meafur'd to thy want of skill;
That good old-fashion'd dame, thy mother,
Has taught thy infant years no other.
'The greateft ill in the creation,
Is fure the want of education.

But think ye?-tell me without feigning,
Have all these charms no farther meaning?
Dame nature, if you don't forget her,
Might teach your ladyship much better.
For fhame, reject this mean employment,
Enter the world, and tafte enjoyment;
Where time by circling blifs we measure;
Beauty was form'd alone for pleasure :
Come, prove the bleffing, follow me,
Be wife, be happy, and be free.

Kind Sir, reply'd our matron chaste,
Your zeal feems pretty much in hafte
I own, the fondness to be blefs'd
Is a deep thirst in every breast;
Of bleffings too I have my store,

Yet quarrel not, should heav'n give more;
Then prove the change to be expedient,
And think me, Sir, your moft obedient.

Here turning, as to one inferior,
Our gallant spoke, and fmil'd fuperior.
Methinks to quit your boasted station
Requires a world of hesitation ;

Where brats, and bonds are held a blessing,
The cafe, I doubt, is paft redreffing.
Why, child, fuppofe the joys I mention,
Were the mère fruits of my invention,
You've caufe fufficient for your carriage,
In flying from the curse of marriage;
That fly decoy, with vary'd fnares,
That takes your widgeon in by pairs;
Alike to husband, and to wife,
The cure of love, and bane of life;
The only method of forecasting,
To make misfortune firm, and lasting;
The fin, by heav'n's peculiar fentence,
Unpardon'd through a life's repentance.
It is the double fnake, that weds
A common tail to diff'rent heads,
That lead the carcafs ftill aftray,
By dragging each a diff'rent way.
Of all the ills, that may attend me,
From marriage, mighty gods, defend me!
Give Me frank nature's wild demeine,
And boundless tract of air ferene,
Where fancy, ever wing'd for change,
Delights to sport, delights to range;
There, Liberty! to thee is owing
Whate'er of blifs is worth beftowing;
Delights, ftill vary'd, and divine,
Sweet goddess of the hills! are thine.

What fay you now, you pretty pink you?
Have I, for once, fpoke reafon, think you?
You take me now for no romancer-→→→
Come, never study for an answer;
Away, caft every care behind ye,
And fly where joy alone fhall find ye.

Soft yet, return'd our female fencer,
A queftion more, or fo-and then, Sir.
You've rally'd me with fenfe exceeding,
With much fine wit, and better breeding;
But pray, Sir, how do you contrive it?
Do thofe of your world never wive it?
"No, no. How then? "Why, dare I tell,

"What does the business full as well."
Do you ne'er love? "An hour at leifure."
Have you no friendships? “Yes, for pleasure.”
No care for little ones?
"We get 'em,
"The reft the mothers mind, and let 'em."
Thou wretch, rejoin'd the kindling Dove,
Quite loft to life, as loft to love!
Whene'er misfortune comes, how just!
And come misfortune furely must;
In the dread feafon of difmay,

In that, your hour of trial, say,
Who then fhall prop your finking heart?
Who bear affliction's weightier part?

Say, when the black-brow'd welkin bends,
And winter's gloomy form impends,
To mourning turns all tranfient cheer,
And blasts the melancholy year;
For times, at no perfuafion, ftay,
Nor vice can find perpetual May;
Then where's that tongue, by folly fed,
That foul of pertnefs, whither fled?
All fhrunk within thy lonely neft,
Forlorn, abandon'd, and unbless'd;
No friend, by cordial bonds ally'd,
Shall feek thy cold, unfocial fide;
No chirping prattlers, to delight
Shall turn the long-enduring night;

No bride her words of balm impart,
And warm thee at her conftant heart.
Freedom, reftrain'd by reafon's force
Is as the fun's unvarying course,
Benignly active, sweetly bright,
Affording warmth, affording light;
But torn from virtue's facred rules,
Becomes a comet, gaz'd by fools,
Fore-boding cares, and storms, and ftrife,
And fraught with all the plagues of life.
Thou fool! by union every creature
Subfifts, through universal nature;
And this, to beings void of mind,
Is wedlock, of a meaner kind.

While womb'd in fpace, primæval clay
A yet unfashion'd embryo lay,
The fource of endless good above
Shot down his fpark of kindling love;
Touch'd by the all-enliv'ning flame,
Then motion firft exulting came;
Each atom fought its fep'rate class,
Through many a fair enamour'd mass;
Love caft the central charm around,
And with eternal nuptials bound.
Then form, and order o'er the sky,
First train'd their bridal pomp on high;
The fun difplay'd his orb to fight,
And burnt with hymeneal light.

Hence nature's virgin-womb conceiv'd,
And with the genial burden heav'd;
Forth came the oak, her first-born heir,
And fcal'd the breathing fteep of air;
Then infant stems, of various use,
Imbib'd her foft, maternal juice;
The flow'rs, in early bloom disclos'd,
Upon her fragrant breast repos'd;
Within her warm embraces grew
A race of endless form, and hue;
Then pour'd her leffer offspring round,
And fondly cloath'd their parent ground.
Nor here alone the virtue reign'd,
By matter's cumb'ring form detain'd;
But thence, fubliming, and refin'd,
Afpir'd, and reach'd its kindred Mind.
Caught in the fond, celeftial fire,
The Mind perceiv'd unknown defire,
And now with kind effufion flow'd,
And now with cordial ardours glow'd,
Beheld the sympathetic fair,

And lov'd its own resemblance there;
On all with circling radiance fhone,
But cent'ring, fix'd on one alone;
There clafp'd the heav'n-appointed wife
And doubled every joy of life.

Here ever bleffing, ever blefs'd,
Refides this beauty of the breaft;
As from his palace, here the god
Still beams effulgent blifs abroad,
Here gems his own eternal round,
The ring, by which the world is bound,
Here bids his feat of empire grow,
And builds his little heav'n below.

The bridal partners thus ally'd, And thus in sweet accordance ty'd, One body, heart and spirit live, Enrich'd by every joy they give; Like echo, from her vocal hold, Return'd in mufic twenty fold.

Their union firm, and undecay'd,
Nor time can shake, nor pow'r invade
But as the stem, and scion ftand,
Ingrafted by a skilful hand,

They check the tempeft's wintry ragê,
And bloom and strengthen into age.
A thousand amities unknown,
And pow'rs, perceiv'd by love alone,
Endearing looks, and chafte defire,
Fan, and support the mutual fire,
Whose flame, perpetual, as refin'd,
Is fed by an immortal mind.

Nor yet the nuptial fanction ends,
Like Nile it opens, and defcends,
Which, by apparent windings led,
We trace to its celeftial head.
The fire, firft fpringing from above,
Becomes the fource of life, and love,
And gives his filial heir to flow,'
In fondness down on fons below:
Thus roll'd in one continu'd tide,
To time's extremeft verge they glide,
While kindred streams, on either hand,
Branch forth in bleffings o'er the land.
Thee, wretch! no lifping babe fhall name,
No late-returning brother claim,
No kinfman on thy road rejoice,
No fifter greet thy ent'ring voice,
With partial eyes no parents fee,
And bless their years reftor'd in thee.
In age rejected, or declin'd,
An alien, e'en among thy kind,
The partner of thy fcorn'd embrace
Shall play the wanton in thy face,
Each fpark unplume thy little pride,
All friendship fly thy faithlefs fide,
Thy name fhall like thy carcafe rot,
In fickness fpurn'd, in death forgot.
All-giving pow'r! great fource of life!
O hear the parent! hear the wife!
That life, thou leadeft from above,
Though little, make it large in love.
O bid my feeling heart expand
To every claim, on every hand;
To thofe, from whom my days I drew,
To thefe, in whom thofe days renew;
To all my kin, however wide,
In cordial warmth, as blood ally'd;
To friends, with fteely fetters twin'd,
And to the cruel, not unkind!

But chief, the lord of my defire,
My life, myself, my foul, my fire,
Friends, children, all that with can claim,
Chafte paffion clafp, and rapture name;
O fpare him, fpare him, gracious pow'r!
O give him to my latest hour!
Let me my length of life employ,
To give my fole enjoyment joy.
His love, let mutual love excite,
Turn all my cares to his delight,
And every needlefs bleffing fpare,
Wherein my darling wants a fhare.

When he with graceful action wooes,
And fweetly bills, and fondly cooes,
Ah! deck me, to his eyes alone,
With charms attractive as his own,
And in my circling wings carefs'd,
Give all the lover to my breast.

Then in our chafte, connubial bed,
My bofom pillow'd for his head,
His eyes with blissful flumbers close,
And watch, with me, my lord's repole,
Your peace around his temples twine,
And love him with a love like mine.
And, for I know his gen'rous flame,
Beyond what'er my fex can claim,
Me too to your protection take,
And spare me for my husband's fake,
Let one unruffled, calm delight
The loving and belov'd unite;
One pure defire our bosoms warm,
One will direct, one with inform';
Through life, one mutual aid sustain,
In death, one peaceful grave contain.
While, fwelling with the darling theme,
Her accents pour'd an endless ftream,
The well-known wings a found impart,
That reach'd her ear, and touch'd her heart!
Quick dropp'd the mufic of her tongue,
And forth, with eager joy the fprung.
As fwift her ent'ring confort flew,
And plum'd, and kindled at the view;
Their wings their fouls embracing meet,
Their hearts with anfw'ring measure beati
Half loft in facred sweets, and bless'd
With raptures felt, but ne'er exprefs'd.
Strait to her humble roof the led
The partner of her spotless bed;
Her young, a flutt'ring pair, arife,
Their welcome fparkling in their eyes;
Tranfported, to their fire they bound,
And hang with speechlefs action round,
In pleasure wrapt, the parents ftand,
And fee their little wings expandi
The fire, his life-fuftaining prize
To each expecting bill applies,
There fondly pours the wheaten spoil,

With tranfport giv'n, though won with toil
While, all collected at the fight,
And filent through fupreme delight,
The fair high heav'n of blifs beguiles,
And on her lord, and infant fmiles,

The Sparrow, whofe attention hung
Upon the Dove's enchanting tongue,
Of all his little flights difarm'd,
And from himself, by virtue, charm'd,
When now he faw, what only feem'd
A fact, fo late a fable deem'd,
His foul to envy he refign'd,
His hours of folly to the wind,
In fecret wifh'd a turtle too,
And fighing to himself, withdrew,

Which, tainted, not the quick'ning gales
That sweep Sabæa's fpicy vales,
Nor all the healing fweets reftore,
That breathe along Arabia's fhore.
The trav'ler, if he chance to ftray,
May turn uncenfur'd to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure
But woman! no redemption knows,
The wounds of honour never close.
Though diftant every hand to guide,
Nor skill'd on life's tempeftuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the course decreed,
In vain the feeks the friendlefs fhore,
Her fwifter folly flies before;
The circling ports against her clofe,
And fhut the wand rer from repofe;
"Till, by conflicting waves opprefs'd,
Her found'ring pinnace finks to rest.
Are there no off'rings to atone
For but a fingle error? None.
Though woman is avow'd, of old,
No daughter of celestial mould,
Her temp'ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clay,
We challenge from the mortal dame
The strength angelic natures claim;
Nay more; for facred stories tell,
That ev'n Immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming sphere
Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying elements endu'd,
Was form'd to fall, and rife renew'd.

The stars no fix'd duration know,
Wide oceans ebb, again to flow,
The moon repletes her waneing face,
All-beauteous, from her late difgrace,
And funs, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rife with new-born light.

In vain may death, and time fubdue,
While nature mints her race anew,
And holds fome vital spark apart,
Like virtue, hid in every heart;
'Tis hence reviving warmth is feen,
To cloath a naked world in green.
No longer barr'd by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold;"
Again each infect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the spring;
Again from every latent root

The bladed stem, and tendril fhoot,
Exhaling incenfe to the skies,
Again to perifh, and to rife.

And muft weak woman then difown
The change, to which a world is prone?
In one meridian brightness shine,
And ne'er, like ev'ning funs, decline?
Refolv'd and firm alone?-Is this
What we demand of woman? Yes.

But should the spark of vestal fire
In fome unguarded hour expire,
Or fhould the nightly thief invade
Hefperia's chafte, and facred fhade,
Of all the blooming spoil poffefs'd,
The dragon honour charm'd to rest,
Shall virtue's flame no more return?
No more with virgin splendor burn?