The courtiers learn'd, at early dawn, Where their lost sovereign was withdrawn. The guards' approach our host alarms; With gaudy coats the cottage swarms; The crown and purple robes they bring, And prostrate fall before the King. The Clown was call'd; the royal guest By due reward his thanks exprest. The King then, turning to the crowd, Who fawningly before him bow'd, Thus spoke: "Since, bent on private gain, Your counsels first misled my reign, Taught and inform'd by you alone, No truth the royal ear hath known, Till here conversing-hence, ye crew! For now I know myself and you." Whene'er the royal ear's engrost, State-lies but little genius cost; The favourite then securely robs, And gleans a nation by his jobs. Franker and bolder grown in ill, He daily poisons dares instil; And, as his present views suggest, Inflames or soothes the royal breast: Thus wicked ministers oppress,

When oft the monarch means redress.

Would kings their private subjects hear,

A minister must talk with fear;

If honesty opposed his views,

He dared not innocence accuse;

"Twould keep him in such narrow bound, He could not right and

wrong confound.

Happy were kings, could they disclose.
Their real friends and real foes!

Were both themselves and subjects known,
A monarch's will might be his own:
Had he the use of ears and eyes,

Knaves would no more be counted wise.

But then a minister might lose

(Hard case!) his own ambitious views.
When such as these have vex'd a state,
Pursued by universal hate,

Their false support at once hath fail'd,
And persevering truth prevail'd.
Exposed, their train of fraud is seen—
Truth will at last remove the screen.

A Country Squire, by whim directed,
The true stanch dogs of chase neglected;
Beneath his board no hound was fed,
His hand ne'er stroked the spaniel's head.
A snappish Cur, alone carest,

By lies had banish'd all the rest:
Yap had his ear, and defamation
Gave him full scope of conversation.
His sycophants must be preferr'd,
Room must be made for all his herd:
Wherefore, to bring his schemes about,
Old faithful servants all must out.

The Cur on every creature flew,
(As other great men's puppies do,)
Unless due court to him were shown,
And both their face and business known,
No honest tongue an audience found-
He worried all the tenants round.

For why? he lived in constant fear,
Lest truth by chance should interfere.
If any stranger dared intrude,

The noisy Cur his heels pursued;

Now fierce with rage, now struck with dread, At once he snarlèd, bit, and fled.

Aloof he bays, with bristling hair,

And thus in secret growls his fear:
"Who knows but Truth, in this disguise,
May frustrate my best-guarded lies?
Should she (thus mask'd) admittance find,
That very hour, my ruin's sign'd."

Now in his howl's continued sound,

Their words were lost, their voice was drown'd.
Ever in awe of honest tongues,

Thus every day he strain'd his lungs.
It happen'd, in ill-omen'd hour,
That Yap, unmindful of his power,
Forsook his post, to love inclin'd,
A favourite bitch was in the wind.
By her seduced, in amorous play,
They frisk'd the joyous hours away:
Thus by untimely love pursuing,
Like Antony he sought his ruin.

For now the Squire, unvex'd with noise,

An honest neighbour's chat, enjoys.
"Be free," says he, "your mind impart;
I love a friendly open heart.
Methinks my tenants shun my gate;
Why such a stranger grown of late?
Pray tell me what offence they find—
"Tis plain they're not so well inclined.

"Turn off your Cur," the Farmer cries,
"Who feeds your ear with daily lies.
His snarling insolence offends,-

"Tis he that keeps you from your friends.
Were but that saucy puppy checkt,
You'd find again the same respect.
Hear only him, he'll swear it too,
That all our hatred is to you:
But learn from us your true estate-
'Tis that cursed Cur alone, we hate."

The Squire heard Truth. Now Yap rush'd in,
The wide hall echoes with his din,

Yet Truth prevail'd; and, with disgrace,
The dog was cudgell'd out of place.1

(1) The severest satire in the whole English language, is that by Swift, in his voyage to Laputa (Gulliver's Travels), upon the choice of their favourites by princes. "The professors in the school of political projectors," he says, "appeared wholly out of their senses. These unhappy people were proposing schemes for persuading monarchs to choose favourites upon the score of their wisdom, capacity, and virtue; of teaching the ministers to consult the public good; of rewarding merit, great abilities, and eminent services; of instructing princes to know their own true interest, by placing it on the same foundation with that of their people; of choosing for employments, persons qualified to exercise them; with many other wild, impossible, chimeras, that never entered before, into the heart of man to conceive."

The whole of this caustic irony is an applicable commentary upon the fable, and not Swift's "madness, but its conscience speaks," when humanity acknowledges the truth of it. After all, the condition of a lying courtier is somewhat irksome, for not only is his position precarious, but his penalty severe, since every one may call him a rogue, and he cannot deny it.

HAVE you a friend (look round and spy) So fond, so prepossess'd as I?

Your faults, so obvious to mankind,

My partial eyes could never find.

When, by the breath of Fortune blown,
Your airy castles were o'erthrown,
Have I been ever prone to blame,

Or mortified your hours with shame?