THE LION, THE TIGER, AND THE TRAVELLER.

ACCEPT, young Prince! the moral lay,
And in these Tales mankind survey;
With early virtues plant your breast,
The specious arts of vice detest.

Princes, like beauties, from their youth.
Are strangers to the voice of Truth.1

(1) Compare the third Satire of Juvenal. There is one exception, namely, they hear truth when it is profitable to the courtier to tell it, but never the whole truth.

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Learn to contemn all praise betimes,
For flattery's the nurse of crimes:
Friendship by sweet reproof is shown;
(A virtue never near a throne ;)
In courts such freedom must offend;
There, none presumes to be a friend.1
To those of your exalted station,
Each courtier is a dedication.
Must I, too, flatter like the rest,
And turn my morals to a jest?
The Muse disdains to steal from those
Who thrive in courts by fulsome prose.

But shall I hide your real praise,
Or tell you what a nation says?—
They in your infant bosom trace
The virtues of your royal race;
In the fair dawning of your mind
Discern you generous, mild, and kind :
They see you grieve to hear distress,
And pant already to redress.
Go on; the height of good attain,
Nor let a nation hope in vain:

For hence we justly may presage

The virtues of a riper age.

(1)

The man that would be thought a friend, like flattery."-RowE.

Vide also Shakspear, King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6.

(2) The old habit is too strong for eradication; Gay falls into the language of courts, just after he had repudiated it. The Portuguese have a quaint but true proverb, "An old ass will never learn a new language."

A Tiger, roaming for his prey,
Sprung on a Traveller in the way;
The prostrate game a Lion spies,
And on the greedy tyrant flies:

With mingled roar resounds the wood,
Their teeth, their claws, distil with blood;
Till, vanquish'd by the Lion's strength,
The spotted foe extends his length.
The Man besought the shaggy lord,
And on his knees for life implored:
His life the generous hero gave.
Together walking to his cave,
The Lion thus bespoke his guest:

"What hardy beast shall dare contest
My matchless strength? you saw the fight,
And must attest my power and right.
Forced to forego their native home,
My starving slaves at distance roam.
Within these woods I reign alone;
The boundless forest is my own.
Bears, wolves, and all the savage brood,
Have dyed the regal den with blood.
These carcases on either hand,

Those bones that whiten all the land,
My former deeds and triumphs tell,
Beneath these jaws what numbers fell.”

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True," says the man, "the strength I saw

Might well the brutal nation awe;

But shall a monarch, brave, like you,
Place glory in so false a view?

Robbers invade their neighbour's right:

Be loved; let justice bound your might.

Mean are ambitious heroes' boasts
Of wasted lands, and slaughter'd hosts:
Pirates their power by murders gain;
Wise kings by love and mercy reign.1
To me your clemency hath shown
The virtue worthy of a throne.
Heav'n gives you power above the rest,
Like Heav'n, to succour the distrest."
"The case is plain," the monarch said,
"False glory hath my youth misled;
For beasts of prey, a servile train,
Have been the flatterers of my reign.
You reason well: yet tell me, friend,
Did ever you in courts attend?
For all my fawning rogues agree,
That human heroes rule like me." "2

(1) In the treatise of Xenophon entitled "Hiero, or the Condition of Kings," set forth by Montaigne in his Essays, the reader will find a faithful exposition of the miserable condition of princes, especially in their being deprived of friendship, and the true object of action. Their real pleasure should be in bestowing good, for true greatness ought to resemble the sun, in that the higher it rises, the further it disperses light and joy. The history of the world, however, unfortunately corroborates the truth of the lion's remark, and the sceptres of few princes have borne the emblem of the dove. The last words of Charles the Fifth, of France, ought to form the motto of every prince:-" Frenchmen who now hear me, I address myself to the Supreme Being and to you! I find that kings are happy but in this-that they have the power of doing good."

(2) Vide Shakspear, Merchant of Venice, Act iv. Sc. 1.

A SPANIEL, bred with all the care
That waits upon a favourite heir,
Ne'er felt correction's rigid hand;
Indulged to disobey command,

In pamper'd ease his hours were spent:
He never knew what learning meant.
Such forward airs, so pert, so smart,
Were sure to win his lady's heart;