Might well a Raphael's hand require, The features, fraught with sense and wit, Observe the work. My Lord replied, In this we Painters must decide. My Lord examin'd it a-new; Through all the town his art they prais'd; THE LION AND THE CUB. How fond are men of rule and place, They love the cellar's vulgar joke, And lose their hours in ale and smoke. If these can read, to these I write, A Lion-cub, of sordid mind, Avoided all the lion kind; Fond of applause, he sought the feasts With asses all his time he spent, Their club's perpetual president. He caught their manners, looks, and airs; Elate with flattery and conceit, 'How weak is pride! (returns the sire) THE OLD HEN AND THE COCK. RESTRAIN your child; you'll soon believe And seem'd to peck to show the grain, On the well's narrow margin springs, And prone she drops. The mother's breast All day with sorrow was possest. A Cock she met; her son she knew And in her heart affection grew. ; 'My Son, (says she) I grant your years Have reach'd beyond a mother's cares. I see you vigorous, strong, and bold; I hear with joy your triumphs told. 'Tis not from Cocks thy fate I dread; But let thy ever-wary tread Avoid yon well; that fatal place Is sure perdition to our race. Print this my counsel on thy breast ; To the just gods I leave the rest.' He thank'd her care; yet day by day His bosom burn'd to disobey, 'Why was this idle charge? (he cries) Thus said, he mounts the margin's round, And pries into the depth profound. He stretch'd his neck; and from below 'I ne'er had been in this condition, But for my mother's prohibition.' THE RAT-CATCHER AND CATS. THE rats by night such mischief did, They undermin'd whole sides of bacon, Her cheese was sapp'd, her tarts were taken; Her pasties, fenc'd with thickest paste, Were all demolish'd and laid waste: She curs'd the Cat for want of duty, From room to room he now surveys Their haunts, their works, their secret ways; |