And, though ill habits are not soon controll'd,
Awhile suspended her desire of gold:
But civilly drew in her sharpen'd paws,
Not violating hospitable laws,
And pacified her tail, and lick'd her frothy jaws. The Hind did first her country cates provide, Then couch'd herself securely by her side.
MUCH malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the Muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts
unknown,
As if we were not stock'd with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wanted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night:
Let those remember that she cannot die
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaim'd:
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met.
Meanwhile, she quench'd her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cool'd her blood. [scant,
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To' express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal.
She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which toss'd the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropp'd a tear betwixt, for her own children's
fate.
Nor fail'd she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffer'd for her sake:
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy;
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged,
Then with acknowledgment herself she charged:
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say They met like chance companions on the way, Whom mutual fear of robbers had possess'd; While danger lasted, kindness was profess'd; But that once o'er, the short-lived union ends: The road divides, and there divide the friends.
The Panther nodded when her speech was done,
And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone:
But said, her gratitude had gone too far
For common offices of Christian care.
If to the lawful heir she had been true,
She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due.
'I might (she added) with like praise describe
Your suffering sons, and so return your bribe ;
But incense from my hands is poorly prized;
For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despised.
I served a turn, and then was cast away;
You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display,
And sip the sweets, and bask in your great pa-
tron's day.'
This heard, the Matron was not slow to find
What sort of malady had seized her mind:
Disdain, with gnawing Envy, fell Despite,
And canker'd Malice, stood in open sight:
Ambition, Interest, Pride without control,
And Jealousy, the jaundice of the soul;
Revenge, the bloody minister of ill,
With all the lean tormentors of the will.
'Twas easy now to guess from whence arose
Her new-made union with her ancient foes,
Her forced civilities, her faint embrace,
Affected kindness, with an alter'd face:
Yet durst she not too deeply probe the wound,
As hoping still the nobler parts were sound;
But strove with anodynes to' assuage the smart,
And mildly thus her medicine did impart :
'Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain;
It shows a rest of kindness to complain;
A friendship loth to quit its former hold;
And conscious merit may be justly bold:
But much more just your jealousy would show,
If others' good were injury to you:
Witness, ye Heavens, how I rejoice to see
Rewarded worth, and rising loyalty.
Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown,
The scarlet honour of your peaceful gown,
Are the most pleasing objects I can find,
Charms to my sight, and cordials to my mind:
When Virtue spumes before a prosperous gale,
My heaving wishes help to fill the sail;
And if my prayers for all the brave were heard,
Cæsar should still have such, and such should still
[till'd; 'The labour'd earth your pains have sow'd and 'Tis just you reap the product of the field: Your's be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain To glean the fallings of the loaded wain. Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care, Your charity for alms may safely spare, For alms are but the vehicles of prayer. My daily bread is literally implored; I have no barns nor granaries to hoard. If Cæsar to his own his hand extends, Say, which of yours his charity offends :
You know he largely gives to more than are his friends.
Are you defrauded when he feeds the poor?
Our mite decreases nothing of your store.
I am but few, and by your fare you see
My crying sins are not of luxury.
Some juster motive sure your mind withdraws,
And makes you break our friendship's holy laws;
For barefaced envy is too base a cause.
'Show more occasion for your discontent; Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent:
Some German quarrel, or as times go now,
Some French, where force is uppermost, will do.
When at the fountain's head, as merit ought
To claim the place, you take a swilling draught,
How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw,
And tax the sheep for troubling streams below;
Or call her (when no farther cause you find)
An enemy profess'd of all your kind:
But then, perhaps, the wicked world would think
The Wolf design'd to eat as well as drink.'
This last allusion gall'd the Panther more,
Because, indeed, it rubb'd upon the sore; [pain'd,
Yet seem'd she not to winch, though shrewdly
But thus her passive character maintain'd:
'I never grudged, whate'er
my foes report,
Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court.
You have your day, or you are much belied,
But I am always on the suffering side:
You know my doctrine, and I need not say
I will not, but I cannot disobey.
On this firm principle I ever stood,
He of my sons who fails to make it good
By one rebellious act renounces to
my blood.'
Ah! (said the Hind) how many sons have
you
Who call you Mother, whom you never knew?
But most of them who that relation plead
Are such ungracious youths as wish you dead.
They gape at rich revenues which you hold,
And fain would nibble at your grandame Gold;
Inquire into your years, and laugh to find
Your crazy temper shows you much declined.
Were you not dim, and doted, you might see
A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree,
No more of kin to you, than you to me.
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