What care, what induftry, what pains!
What univerfal filence reigns.
Ringwood, a Dog of little fame,
Young, pert, and ignorant of game,
At once difplays his babbling throat;
The pack, regardless of the note,
Purfue the fcent; with louder ftrain
He ftill perfifts to vex the train.
The Huntsman to the clamour flies;
The fmacking lash he smartly plies.
His ribs all welk'd, with howling tone
The puppy thus express'd his moan.
I know the mufic of my tongue
Long fince the pack with envy ftung.
What will not spite? These bitter smarts
I owe to my fuperior parts.
When puppies prate the Huntsman cry'd,
They show both ignorance and pride:
Fools may our fcorn, not envy raise,
For envy is a kind of praife..
Had not thy forward noisy tongue
Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong,
Thou might't have mingled with the rest,
And ne'er thy foolish nofe confest.
But fools to talking ever prone,
Are fure to make their follies known.
HATE the man who builds his name
On ruins of another's fame.
Thus prudes, by characters o'erthrown,
Imagine that they raise their own.
Thus Scriblers, covetous of praise,
Think flander can transplant the bays.
Beauties and bards have equal pride,
With both all rivals are decry'd.
Who praises LESBIA's eyes and feature,
Muft call her fister, aukward creature ;
For the kind flatt'ry's fure to charm,
When we fome other nymph difarm.
As in the cool of early day
A Poet fought the fweets of May,
The garden's fragrant breath afcends,
And ev'ry stalk with odour bends.
A rofe he pluck'd, he gaz'd, admir'd,
Thus finging as the Mufe infpir'd.
Go, Rofe, my CHLOE's bofom grace;
How happy fhould I prove,
Might I fupply that envy'd place
With never fading love!
There, Phoenix like, beneath her eye,
Involv'd in fragrance, burn and die !
Know, hapless flower, that thou shalt find
More fragant rofes there;.
I fee thy with'ring head reclin'd
With envy and defpair!
One common fate we both must prove;
You die with envy, I with love.
Spare your comparisons, reply'd
An angry Rofe, who grew befide,
Of all mankind, you should not flout us;
What can a Poet do without us!
In ev'ry love-fong rofes bloom;
We lend you colour and perfume.
Does it to CHLOE's charms conduce,
To found her praise on our abuse ?
Muft we, to flatter her, be made
To whither, envy, pine and fade?
The CUR, the HORSE, and the Shepherd's Doe.
THE lad, of all-fufficient merit,
With modesty ne'er damps his fpirit;
Prefuming on his own deferts,
On all alike his tongue exerts;
His noify jokes at random throws,
And pertly fpatters friends and foes;
In wit and war the bully race
Contribute to their own difgrace.
Too late the forward youth fhall find
That jokes are fometimes paid in kind;
Or if they canker in the breaft,
He makes a foe who makes a jest.
A Village-cur, of snappish race,
The perteft Puppy of the place,
Imagin'd that his treble throat
Was bleft with mufic's sweetest note;
In the mid road he bafking lay,
The yelping nuifance of the way;
For not a creature pafs'd along,
But had a fample of his fong.
Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He ftarts, he cocks his dapper ears;
Away he fcow'rs, affaults his hoof;
Now near him fnarls, now barks aloof;
With fhrill impertinence attends;
Nor leaves him till the village ends.
It chanc'd, upon his evil day,
A Pad came pacing down the way:
The Cur, with never-ceafing tongue,
Upon the paffing trav'ler fprung.
The Horse, from scorn provok'd to ire,
Flung backward'; rolling in the mire,
The Puppy howl'd, and bleeding lay;
The Pad in peace pursu'd his way.
A Shepherd's Dog, who faw the deed, Detesting the vexatious breed,
When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate ;
Thy teazing tongue had judgment ty'd,
Thou hadft not, like a Puppy, dy'd.
|