'Tis vanity that swells thy mind.

What, Heav'n and earth for thee design'd!
For thee, made only for our need,

That more important Fleas might feed.'

THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.
FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name,
Unless to one you stint the flame.
The child, whom many fathers share,
Hath seldom known a father's care.
"Tis thus in friendships; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.

A Hare who, in a civil way,
Complied with every thing, like GAY,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood or graze the plain; '
Her care was never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies:
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death;
She doubles to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round,
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half-dead with fear she gasping lay.

What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the Horse appear'd in view!
'Let me, (says she) your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.

You know my feet betray my flight:
To friendship every burden's light.'

The Horse replied, 'Poor honest puss,
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted, relief is near,

For all your friends are in the rear.'

She next the stately Bull implor'd;
And thus replied the mighty lord:
'Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offence, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.
Love calls me hence; a favourite cow
Expects me near yon barley-mow;
And when a lady's in the case,
You know all other things give place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind,
But see, the Goat is just behind.'

The Goat remark'd her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye:

My back, (says he) may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.' The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd His sides a load of wool sustain'd; Said he was slow; confess'd his fears; For hounds eat sheep as well as Hares. She now the trotting Calf address'd, To save from death a friend distress'd: • Shall I, (says he) of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler pass'd you by;

How strong are those! how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence,
Those friends of mine may take offence.
Excuse me, then! you know my heart;
But dearest friends, alas! must part.
How shall we all lament! Adieu;
For see the hounds are just in view.'

FABLES.

PART II.

ADVERTISEMENT.

These Fables were finished by Mr. GAY, and intended for the press a short time before his death; when they were left, with his other papers, to the care of his noble friend and patron the Duke of Queensberry; who permitted them to be printed from the originals in the Author's own hand-writing.

I

THE DOG AND THE FOX.

TO A LAWYER.

KNOW you Lawyers can, with ease,
Twist words and meanings as you please;
That language, by your skill made pliant,
Will bend to favour every client;
That 'tis the fee directs the sense,
To make out either side's pretence.
When you peruse the clearest case,
You see it with a double face:
For scepticism is your profession;
You hold there's doubt in all expression.
Hence is the bar with fees supplied,
Hence eloquence takes either side.
Your hand would have but paltry gleaning,
Could every man express his meaning.

Who dares presume to pen a deed,
Unless you previously are fee'd?

'Tis drawn; and, to augment the cost,
In dull prolixity engrost.

And now we're well secur'd by law,
Till the next brother find a flaw.

Read o'er a will. Was't ever known
But you could make the will your own?
For when you read, 'tis with intent
To find out meanings never meant.
Since things are thus, se defendendo,
I bar fallacious inuéndo.

Sagacious Porta's skill could trace Some beast or bird in every face. The head, the eye, the nose's shape, Prov'd this an owl, and that an ape; When, in the sketches thus design'd, Resemblance brings some friend to mind, You show the piece, and give the hint, And find each feature in the print; So monstrous-like the portrait's found, All know it, and the laugh goes round. Like him I draw from general nature; Is't I or you, then, fix the satire?—

So, Sir, I beg you spare your pains
In making comments on my strains.
All private slander I detest,

I judge not of my neighbour's breast:
Party and prejudice I hate,

And write no libels on the state.

Shall not my Fable censure vice,
Because a knave is over nice?
And, lest the guilty hear and dread,
Shall not the decalogue be read?