A WOLF, with hunger, fierce and bold,
Ravaged the plains, and thinn'd the fold;
Deep in the wood, secure he lay,
The thefts of night regaled the day.
In vain the shepherd's wakeful care

Had spread the toils, and watch'd the snare;
In vain the dog pursued his pace,
The fleeter robber mock'd the chase.
As Lightfoot ranged the forest round,

By chance his foe's retreat he found.

"Let us awhile the war suspend, And reason as from friend to friend."

"A truce!" replies the Wolf. 'Tis done. The Dog the parley thus begun.

"How can that strong intrepid mind
Attack a weak defenceless kind?

Those jaws should prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood.
Great souls with generous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt.
How harmless is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.”
"Friend," says the wolf, "the matter weigh;
Nature design'd us beasts of prey;
As such, when hunger finds a treat,
"Tis necessary Wolves should eat.
If, mindful of the bleating weal,
Thy bosom burn with real zeal,
Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech;
To him repeat the moving speech:
A Wolf eats sheep but now and then,
Ten thousands are devour'd by men.
open foe may prove a curse,

An

But a pretended friend is worse." 1

(1) As equivocation has been well termed a lie without the courage of it, seeing that it is a lie guarded, so the "acting a lie," as Robert Hall expressed it, shows the same tortuous spirit, with double the malignity. But of all lies, deception in pretended friendship, and an hypocritical assumption of honourable feeling, are the most destructive; for when detected, they impair man's opinion of virtue, by showing how close its counterfeit may come to it: this caused the poignancy of David's grief. (Ps. lv. 12.) But this should teach us that confidence is a plant of slow growth, and that according to the old proverb quoted by Aristotle, (Eth. b. viii. c. 4,) "it is impossible for men to know one another before they have eaten a stated quantity of salt together;" upon which remark Cicero's rule is founded, "Omnino amicitiæ, corroboratis jam confirmatisque, et ingeniis et ætatibus judicandæ sunt."-Cic. de Amicit. c. 20.

LEST men suspect your tale untrue,

Keep probability in view.1

The traveller leaping o'er those bounds,

The credit of his book confounds.

Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes e'en his real courage doubted.2
But flattery never seems absurd,

The flatter'd always take your word:

Impossibilities seem just,

They take the strongest praise on trust.

(1) Vide Arist. Poet. ch. 15.

(2) Which it is astonishing that Othello did not, when he recited his "traveller's tales" to Desdemona. (Vide Othello, Act I.)

F

Hyperboles, though ne'er so great,
Will still come short of self-conceit.
So very like, a Painter drew,
That every eye, the picture knew.
He hit complexion, feature, air,
So just, the life itself was there.
No flattery with his colours laid,
To bloom restored the faded maid;
He gave each muscle all its strength;
The mouth, the chin, the nose's length;
His honest pencil touch'd with truth,
And mark'd the date of age and youth.

He lost his friends, his practice fail'd;
Truth should not always be reveal'd.1
In dusty piles his pictures lay,

For no one sent the second pay.
Two bustos, fraught with every grace,
A Venus' and Apollo's face,

He placed in view; resolved to please,
Whoever sat, he drew from these,
From these corrected every feature,
And spirited each awkward creature.

All things were set, the hour was come,

His pallet ready o'er his thumb;

My Lord appear'd, and seated right,

In proper attitude and light.

The Painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece,

Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece,
Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;

"Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there

(1) Truth, like the shower-bath, requires in most men, a preparative discipline before their nerves are rendered capable of bearing the shock of it.

Might well a Raphael's hand require,
To give them all the native fire.

The features, fraught with sense and wit,
You'll grant are very hard to hit;
But yet with patience you shall view
As much, as paint and art can do.”

"Observe the work!"-My Lord replied
"Till now I thought my mouth was wide.
Besides, my nose is somewhat long;
Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young."
"Oh! pardon me, (the artist cried)
In this, we Painters must decide.
The piece, e'en common eyes must strike,
I warrant it extremely like."

My Lord examined it anew;
No looking-glass seem'd half so true.
A lady came, with borrow'd grace
He, from his Venus, form'd her face.
Her lover praised the Painter's art,—
-So like the picture in his heart!
To every age, some charm he lent,
E'en beauties were almost content.
Through all the town, his art they praised;
His custom grew, his price was raised.

Had he the real likeness shown,

Would any man the picture own?

But when thus happily he wrought,

Each found the likeness in his thought.1

(1) See some admirable remarks upon the nature of vanity in Montaigne's Essays, p. 173, Hazlitt's ed.: also Arist. Ethics, b. iv. c. 7. The man who relies for his success, like the painter in the fable, upon the vanity of the world, draws upon a bank which never fails to honour such cheques at sight; for pride and self-love within the heart, hold common cause for its destruction with the falsehood and flattery of the world outside, and no man would ever be duped by another, except he had first played the knave to himself!