IN beauty, faults conspicuous grow;
The smallest speck is seen on snow.
As near a barn, by hunger led,
A Peacock with the poultry fed,
All view'd him with an envious eye,
And mock'd his gaudy pageantry.
He, conscious of superior merit,
Contemns their base reviling spirit;

His state and dignity assumes,
And to the sun displays his plumes,
Which, like the heaven's o'er-arching skies,
Are spangled with a thousand eyes.
The circling rays, and varied light,
At once confound their dazzled sight;
On every tongue detraction burns,
And malice prompts their spleen by turns.1
"Mark with what insolence and pride
The creature takes his haughty stride,"-
The Turkey cries. "Can spleen contain?
Sure never bird was half so vain;
But were intrinsic merit seen,

We Turkeys have the whiter skin.”

From tongue to tongue they caught abuse,
And next was heard the hissing Goose:
"What hideous legs! what filthy claws!
I scorn to censure little flaws;

Then what a horrid squalling throat!

E'en owls are frighted at the note.”

"True: those are faults," the Peacock cries,
"My scream, my shanks, you may despise;
But such blind critics rail in vain;
What, overlook my radiant train!
Know, did my legs (your scorn and sport),
The Turkey, or the Goose, support,
And did ye scream with harsher sound,
Those faults in you, had ne'er been found:
To all apparent beauties blind,

Each blemish strikes an envious mind."

(1) Jealousy has been well defined to be the art by which we punish ourselves for being inferior to another.

Thus in assemblies have I seen

A nymph, of brightest charms and mien,
Wake envy in each ugly face,

And buzzing scandal fills the place.1

(1) The moral here is applied to one species of envy alone, that of beauty, but the fable may be referred to every kind of it equally. Scandal is like a snail, which crawls over the loveliest fruit, and feeds on that which its own venom has first made foul!

If matches are not better made,
At once I must forswear my trade.
You send me such ill-coupled folks,
That 'tis a shame to sell them yokes.
They squabble for a pin, a feather,
And wonder how they came together.
The husband's sullen, dogged, shy,
The wife grows flippant in reply:
He loves command and due restriction,
And she as well likes contradiction:
She never slavishly submits,

She'll have her will, or have her fits.
He this way tugs, she t' other draws;
The man grows jealous, and with cause.
Nothing can save him but divorce,
And here the wife complies, of course.'
"When," says the boy, "had I to do
With either your affairs, or you?
I never idly spend my darts;
You trade in mercenary hearts.
For settlements the lawyer's fee'd;
hand witness to the deed?

Is

my

If they like cat and dog agree,

Go rail at Plutus, not at me."

Plutus appear'd, and said, ""Tis true,
In marriage, gold is all their view;
They seek not beauty, wit, or sense,
And love is seldom the pretence.
All offer incense at my shrine,
And I alone the bargain sign.

(1) "When souls that should agree to will the same,
To have one common object for their wishes,
Look different ways, regardless of each other,
Think what a train of wretchedness ensues!"-RowE.