- FAB LE XXIV.
The BUTTERFLY and the SNAIL.
ALL upstarts, infolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.
As, in the funshine of the morn,
A Butterfly (but newly born)
Sate proudly perking on a rofe;
With pert conceit his bofom glows;
His wings (all-glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet and gold,
Wide he displays; the fpangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.
His now forgotten friend, a Snail,
Beneath his house, with flimy trail
Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies,
In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:.
What means yon peasant's daily toil,
From choaking weeds to rid the foil?
Why wake you to the morning's care?
Why with news arts correct the year?
Why glows the peach with crimson hue?
And why the plumb's inviting blue?
Were they to feaft his tafte defign'd,
That vermin of voracious kind ♪
Crush then the flow, the pilf'ring race;
So purge thy garden from disgrace.
What arrogance! the Snail reply'd ;
How infolent is upftart pride!
Had'st thou not thus with infult vain,
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the fcum of earth.
For fcarce nine funs have wak'd the hours,
To fwell the fruit, and paint the flow'rs,
Since I thy humbler life furvey'd,
In bafe, in fordid guise array'd;
A hideous infect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a flow and noisome train ;
And from your spider-bowels drew
Foul film, and fpun the dirty clue:
I own my humble life, good friend;
Snail was I born, and Snail fhall end.
And what's a Butterfly? At best,
He's but a caterpillar, drest;
And all thy race (a numerous feed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed,
The SCOLD and the PARROT.
THE hufband thus reprov'd his wife:
Who deals in flander, lives in ftrife.
Art thou the herald of disgrace,
Denouncing war to all thy race?
Can nothing quell thy thunders rage,
Which spares nor friend, nor fex, nor age?
That vixen tongue of your's, my dear,
Alarms our neighbours far and near.
Good Gods! 'tis like a rolling river,
That murm'ring flows, and flows for ever I
Ne'er tir'd, perpetual discord sowing!
Like fame, it gathers ftrength by going
Heighday! the flippant tongue replies,
How folemn is the fool! how wife!
Is nature's choiceft gift debarr'd!
Nay, frown not; for I will be heard.
Women of late are finely ridden,
A parrot's privilege forbidden !
You praise his talk, his fqualling fong;
But wives are always in the wrong.
Now reputations flew in pieces
Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces
She ran the Parrot's language o'er,
Bawd, huffy, drunkard, flattern, whore;
On all the fex fhe vents her fury,
Tries and condemns without a jury.
At once the torrent of her words
Alarm'd cat, monkey, dogs and birds:
All join their forces to confound her;
Pufs fpits, the monkey chatters round her;
The yelping cur her heels affaults;
The magpye blabs out all her faults;
Poll, in the uproar, from his cage,
With this rebuke out fcream'd her rage.
A Parrot is for talking priz'd,
But prattling women are despis'd.
She who attacks another's honour,
Draws every living thing upon her.
Think, Madam, when you ftretch your lungs,
That all your neighbours too have tongues.
One flander muft ten thousand get,
The world with int'reft pays the debt.
Sneaking Cur, the mafter's fpy,
Rewarded for his daily lie,
With fecret jealoufies and fears
Set all together by the ears,
Poor Pufs to-day was in difgrace,
Another cat fapply'd her place;
The hound was beat, the Maftiff chid,
The monkey was the room forbid ;
Each to his dearest friend grew shy,
And none could tell the reason why.
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