That this accomplish'd, or at least in part, Gave great repute to their new Merlin's art. Some Swifts, the giants of the swallow kind, Large-limb'd, stout-hearted, but of stupid mind, (For Swisses or for Gibeonites design'd) These lubbers, peeping through a broken pane, To suck fresh air, survey'd the neighbouring plain; And saw (but scarcely could believe their eyes) New blossoms flourish, and new flowers arise; As God had been abroad, and, walking there, Had left his footsteps, and reform'd the year: The sunny hills from far were seen to glow With glittering beams, and in the meads below The burnish'd brooks appear'd with liquid gold to At last they heard the foolish Cuckow sing, [flow. Whose note proclaim'd the holy-day of Spring. "No longer doubting, all prepare to fly, And repossess their patrimonial sky. The priest before them did his wings display; And, that good omens might attend their way, As luck would have it, 'twas St. Martin's day. "Who but the Swallow triumphs now alone? The canopy of Heaven is all her own: Her youthful offspring to their haunts repair, And glide along in glades, and skim in air, And dip for insects in the purling springs, And stoop on rivers to refresh their wings. Their mothers think a fair provision made, That every son can live upon his trade: And, now the careful charge is off their hands, Look out for husbands, and new nuptial bands: The youthful widow longs to be supply'd; But first the lover is by lawyers ty'd To settle jointure-chimnies on the bride. So thick they couple in so short a space, That Martin's marriage-offerings rise apace. Their ancient houses, running to decay, Are furbish'd up, and cemented with clay; They teem already; store of eggs are laid, And brooding mothers call Lucina's aid. Fame spreads the news, and foreign fowls appear In flocks to greet the new returning year, To bless the founder, and partake the cheer. And now 'twas time (so fast their numbers rise) To plant abroad and people colonies. The youth drawn forth, as Martin had desir'd, (For so their cruel destiny requir'd) Were sent far off on an ill-fated day; The rest would needs conduct them on their way, And Martin went, because he fear'd alone to stay. "So long they flew with inconsiderate haste, That now their afternoon began to waste; And, what was ominous, that very morn The Sun was enter'd into Capricorn; Which, by their bad astronomer's account, That week the Virgin Balance should remount, An infant Moon eclips'd him in his way, And hid the small remainders of his day. The crowd, amaz'd, pursued no certain mark; But birds met birds, and justled in the dark: Few mind the public in a panic fright; And fear increas'd the horrour of the night. Night came, but unattended with repose; Alone she came, no sleep their eyes to close: Alone, and black she came; no friendly stars arose. "What should they do, beset with dangers round, No neighbouring dorp, no lodging to be found, But bleaky plains, and bare unhospitable ground. The latter brood, who just began to fly, Sick-feather'd, and unpractis'd in the sky,

For succour to their helpless mother call;
She spread her wings: some few beneath them crawl;
She spread them wider yet, but could not cover all.
T'augment their woes, the winds began to move
Debate in air for empty fields above,

Till Boreas got the skies, and pour'd amain
His rattling hailstones mix'd with snow and rain.
"The joyless morning late arose, and found
A dreadful desolation reign around,

Some bury'd in the snow, some frozen to the ground.
The rest were struggling still with death, and lay
The Crows' and Ravens' rights, an undefended prey:
Excepting Martin's race; for they and he
Had gain'd the shelter of a hollow tree:
But, soon discover'd by a sturdy clown,
He headed all the rabble of a town,

And finish'd them with bats, or poll'd them down.
Martin himself was caught alive, and try'd
For treasonous crimes, because the laws provide
No Martin there in winter shall abide.
High on an oak, which never leaf shall bear,
He breath'd his last, expos'd to open air;
And there his corpse unbless'd is hanging still,
To show the change of winds with his prophetic bill.”
The patience of the Hind did almost fail;
For well she mark'd the malice of the tale:
Which ribbald art their church to Luther owes;
In malice it began, by malice grows;

He sow'd the serpent's teeth, an iron-harvest roșe.
But most in Martin's character and fate,
She saw her slander'd sons, the Panther's hate,
The people's rage, the persecuting state:
Then said, "I take th' advice in friendly part:
You clear your conscience, or at least your heart:
Perhaps you fail'd in your foreseeing skill,
For Swallows are unlucky birds to kill:
As for my sons, the family is bless'd,
Whose every child is equal to the rest:

No church reform'd can boast a blameless line;
Such Martins build in yours, and more than mine:
Or else an old fanatic author lies,

Who summed their scandals up by centuries.
But through your parable I plainly see
The bloody laws, the crowd's barbarity;
The sun-shine that offends the purblind sight:
Had some their wishes, it would soon be night.
Mistake me not; the charge concerns not you:
Your sons are malecontents, but yet are true,
As far as non-resistance makes them so;
But that's a word of neutral sense, you know,
A passive term, which no relief will bring,
But trims betwixt a rebel and a king."

"Rest well assur'd," the Pardelis reply'd, My sons would all support the regal side. Though Heaven forbid the cause by battle should be The matron answer'd with a loud amen, [try'd.” And thus pursued her argument again. "If, as you say, and as I hope no less, Your sons will practise what yourselves profess, What angry power prevents our present peace? The Lion, studious of our common good, Desires (and kings' desires are ill withstood) To join our nations in a lasting love: The bars betwixt are easy to remove; For sanguinary laws were never made above. If you condemn that prince of tyranny, Whose mandate forc'd your Gallic friends to fly, Make not a worse example of your own; Or cease to rail at causeless rigour shown, And let the guiltless person throw the stone.

What Phoebus from the tripod shall disclose,
Which are, in last resort, your friends or foes?
Homer, who learn'd the language of the sky,
The seeming Gordian knot would soon untie;
Immortal powers the term of Conscience know,
But Interest is her name with men below."

"Conscience or Interest be't, or both in one,"
The Panther answer'd in a surly tone;
"The first commands me to maintain the crown,
The last forbids to throw my barriers down.
Our penal laws no sons of yours admit,
Our test excludes your tribe from benefit.
These are my banks your ocean to withstand,
Which proudly rising overlooks the land;
And, once let in, with unresisted sway
Would sweep the pastors and their flocks away.
Think not my judgment leads me to comply
With laws unjust, but hard necessity:
Imperious need, which cannot be withstood,
Makes ill authentie, for a greater good.
Possess your soul with patience, and attend:
A more auspicious planet may ascend;
Good fortune may present some happier time,
With means to cancel my unwilling crime;
(Unwilling, witness all ye powers above)
To mend my errours, and redeem your love:
That little space you safely may allow ;
Your all-dispensing power protects you now."

“ Hold,” said the Hind, "tis needless to explain;
You would postpone me to another reign;
Till when you are content to be unjust:
Your part is to possess, and mine to trust.
A fair exchange propos'd of future chance,
For present proft and inheritance.

Few words will serve to finish our dispute;
Who will not now repeal, would persecute.
To ripen green revenge, your hopes attend,
Wishing that happier planet would ascend.
For shame, let Conscience be your plea no more:
To will hereafter, proves she might before:
But she's a bawd to Gain, and holds the door.
"Your care about your banks infers a fear
Of threatening floods and inundations near;
If so, a just reprise would only be
Of what the land usurp'd upon the sea;
And all your jealousies but serve to show,
Your ground is, like your neighbour-nation, low.
T' intrench in what you grant unrighteous laws,
Is to distrust the justice of your cause;
And argues that the true religion lies
In those weak adversaries you despise.
"Tyrannic force is that which least you fear;
The sound is frightful in a Christian's ear:
Avert it, Heaven! nor let that plague be sent
To us from the dispeopled continent.

"But piety commands me to refrain; Those prayers are needless in this monarch's reign.

Behold! how he protects your friends oppress'd,
Receives the banish'd, succours the distress'd:
Behold, for you may read an honest open breast.
He stands in day-light, and disdains to hide
An act, to which by honour he is ty'd,
A generous, laudable, and kingly pride.
Your test he would repeal, his peers restore;
This when he says he means, he means no more."
"Well," said the Panther, "I believe him just,
And yet-"

"And yet, 'tis but because you must;
You would be trusted, but you would not trust."

The Hind thus briefly; and disdain'd t' enlarge
On power of kings, and their superior charge,
As Heaven's trustees before the people's choice,
Though sure the Panther did not much rejoice
To hear those echoes given of her once-loyal voice.
The matron woo'd her kindness to the last,
But could not win; her hour of grace was past.
Whom, thus persisting, when she could not bring
To leave the Wolf, and to believe her king,
She gave her up, and fairly wish'd her joy
Of her late treaty with her new ally:
Which well she hop'd would more successful prove,
Than was the Pigeon's and the Buzzard's love.
The Panther ask'd, "what concord there could be
Betwixt two kinds whose natures disagree?"
The dame reply'd: ""Tis sung in every street,
The common chat of gossips when they meet:
But, since unheard by you, 'tis worth your while
To take a wholesome tale, though told in homely
style.

"A plain good man, whose name is understood,
(So few deserve the name of plain and good)
Of three fair lineal lordships stood possess'd,
And liv'd, as reason was, upon the best.
Inur'd to hardships from his early youth,
Much had he done, and suffer'd for his truth:
At land and sea, in many a doubtful fight,
Was never known a more adventurous knight,
Who oftner drew his sword, and always for the right.
"As Fortune would, (his fortune came, though
He took possession of his just estate: [late)
Nor rack'd his tenants with increase of rent;
Nor liv'd too sparing, nor too largely spent ;
But overlook'd his Hinds; their pay was just,
And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust:
Slow to resolve, but in performance quick;
So true, that he was awkward at a trick.
For little souls on little shifts rely,
And cowards arts of mean expedients try;
The noble mind will dare do any thing but lie.
False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way
But shows of honest bluntness, to betray:
That unsuspected plainness he believ'd;
He look'd into himself, and was deceiv'd.
Some lucky planet sure attends his birth,
Or Heaven would make a miraele on Earth;
For prosperous honesty is seldom seen
To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win.
It looks as Fate with Nature's law would strive,
To show plain-dealing once an age may thrive:
And, when so tough a frame she could not bend,
Exceeded her commission to befriend.

"This grateful man, as Heaven increas'd his store, Gave God again, and daily fed his poor. His house with all convenience was purvey'd ; The rest he found, but rais'd the fabric where he pray'd;

And in that sacred place his beauteous wife
Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life.

"Nor did their alms extend to those alone,
Whom common faith more strictly made their own;
A sort of Doves were hous'd too near their hall,
Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall.
Though some, 'tis true, are passively inclin'd,
The greater part degenerate from their kind;
Voracious birds that hotly bill and breed,
And largely drink, because on salt they feed.
Small gain from them their bounteous owner draws;
Yet, bound by promise, he supports their cause,
As corporations privileg'd by laws,

ment.

"Their flesh was never to the table serv'd;
Though 'tis not thence inferr'd the birds were starv'd:
But that their master did not like the food,
As rank, and breeding melancholy blood.
Nor did it with his gracious nature suit,
Ev'n though they were not Doves, to persecute;
Yet he refus'd (nor could they take offence)
Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence.
Nor consecrated grain their wheat he thought,
Which new from treading in their bills they brought:
But left his Hinds each in his private power,
That those who like the bran might leave the
flour.

He for himself, and not for others, chose,
Nor would he be impos'd on, nor impose;
But in their faces his devotion paid,
And sacrifice with solemn rites was made,
And sacred incense on his altars laid.
Besides these jolly birds, whose corpse impure
Repaid their commons with their salt manure;
Another farm he had behind his house,
Not overstock'd, but barely for his use:
Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed,
And from his pious hands receiv'd their bread,
Our pamper'd Pigeons, with malignant eyes,
Beheld these inmates, and their nurseries:
Though hard their fare, at evening, and at morn,
A cruise of water, and an ear of corn;
Yet still they grudg'd that modicum, and thought
A sheaf in every single grain was brought.
Fain would they filch that little food away,
While unrestrain'd those happy gluttons prey.
And much they griev'd to see so nigh their hall,
The bird that warn'd St. Peter of his fall:
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings, and call his family
To sacred rites; and vex th' ethereal powers
With midnight mattins at uncivil hours;
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest,
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest,
Beast of a bird, supinely when he might
Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light!
What if his dull forefathers us'd that cry,
Could he not let a bad example die?
The world was fall'n into an easier way;
This age knew better than to fast and pray.
Good sense in sacred worship would appear
So to begin, as they might end the year.
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls
Of crowing Chanticleers in cloister'd walls,

And sister Partlet with her hooded head
Was booted hence, because she would not pray a-bed.
The way to win the restive world to God,
Was to lay by the disciplining rod,
Unnatural fasts, and foreign forms of prayer:
Religion frights us with a mien severe.
'Tis prudence to reform her into ease,
And put her in undress to make her please:
A lively faith will bear aloft the mind,
And leave the luggage of good works behind.

"Such doctrines in the pigeon-house were taught:
You need not ask how wondrously they wrought;
But sure the common cry was all for these,
Whose life and precepts both encourag'd ease.
Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail,
And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail-
For Vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face,
Is daunted at the sight of awful Grace—
An hideous figure of their foes they drew,
Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true;
| And this grotesque design expos'd to public view,
One would have thought it some Egyptian piece,
With garden-gods, and barking deities,
More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies.
All so perverse a draught, so far unlike,
It was no libel where it meant to strike.
Yet still the daubing pleas'd, and great and small
To view the monster crowded pigeon-hall.
There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees
Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees;
And by him, a misshapen, ugly race;
The curse of God was seen on every face:
No Holland emblem could that malice mend,
But still the worse they look, the fitter for a fiend,
The master of the farm, displeas'd to find
So much of rancour in so mild a kind,
Inquir'd into the cause, and came to know
The passive church had struck the foremost blow;
With groundless fears and jealousies possest,
As if this troublesome intruding guest
Would drive the birds of Venus from their nest.
A deed his inborn equity abhorr'd;
[his word,
But Interest will not trust, though God should plight
A law, the source of many future harms,
Had banish'd all the poultry from the farms;
With loss of life, if any should be found
To crow or peck on this forbidden ground.
That bloody statute chiefly was design'd
For Chanticleer the white, of clergy kind;
But after-malice did not long forget
The lay that wore the robe and coronet.
For them, for their inferiors and allies,
Their foes a deadly Shibboleth devise:
By which unrighteously it was decreed,
That none to trust or profit should succeed, [weed:
Who would not swallow first a poisonous wicked
Or that, to which old Socrates was curs'd,
Or henbane juice to swell them till they burst.
"The patron (as in reason) thought it hard
To see this inquisition in his yard,
[barr'd.
By which the sovereign was of subjects' use de-
All gentle means he try'd, which might withdraw
Th' effects of so unnatural a law:
But still the dove-house obstinately stood
Deaf to their own, and to their neighbours' good;
And, which was worse, if any worse could be,
Repented of their boasted loyalty:
Now made the champions of a cruel canse,
And drunk with fumes of popular applause;

For those whom God to ruin has design'd,
He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.
"New doubts indeed they daily strove to raise,
Suggested dangers, interpos'd delays;
And emissary Pigeons had in store,
Such as the Meccan prophet us'd of yore,
To whisper counsels in their patron's ear;
And veil'd their false advice with zealous fear.
The master smil'd, to see them work in vain,
To wear him out, and make an idle reign:
He saw, but suffer'd their protractive arts,
And strove by mildness to reduce their hearts:
But they abus'd that grace to make allies,
And fondly clos'd with former enemies,
For fools are doubly fools, endeavouring to be wise.
"After a grave consult what course were best,
One, more mature in folly than the rest,
Stood up, and told them with his head aside,
"That desperate cures must be to desperate
apply'd:

ills

And therefore, since their main impending fear
Was from th' increasing race of Chanticleer,
Some potent bird of prey they ought to find,
A foe profess'd to him, and all his kind:
Some haggard Hawk, who had her eyry nigh,
Well pounc'd to fasten, and well wing'd to fly:
One they might trust, their common wrongs to

wreak :

The Musquet and the Coystrel were too weak,
Too fierce the Falcon; but, above the rest,
The noble Buzzard ever pleas'd me best;
Of small renown, 'tis true; for, not to lie,
We call him but a Hawk by courtesy.
I know he hates the pigeon-house and farm,
And more, in time of war, has done us harm:
But all his hate on trivial points depends:
Give up our forms, and we shall soon be friends.
For pigeon's flesh he seems not much to care;
Cramm'd chickens are a more delicious fare.
On this high potentate, without delay,
I wish you would confer the sovereign sway:
Petition him t' accept the government,
And let a splendid embassy be sent.'

"This pithy speech prevail'd; and all agreed,
Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed.
"Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard,
His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepar'd,
With B's upon their breast, appointed for his guard.
He came, and, crown'd with great solemnity,
'God save king Buzzard!' was the general cry.
"A portly prince, and goodly to the sight,
He seem'd a son of Anach for his height:
Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer:
Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter:
Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's delight;
A prophet forin'd to make a female proselyte.
A theologue more by need than genial bent;
By breeding sharp, by nature confident.
Interest in all his actions was discern'd;
More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd:
Or forc'd by fear, or by his profit led,
Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled :
But brought the virtues of his heaven along;
A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue.
And yet with all his arts he could not thrive;
The most unlucky parasite alive.

Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent,
And then himself pursued his compliment;
But, by reverse of fortune chas'd away,
His gifts no longer than their author stay:

He shakes the dust against th' ungrateful race,
And leaves the stench of ordures in the place.
Oft has he flatter'd and blasphem'd the same;
For in his rage he spares no sovereign's name:
The hero and the tyrant change their style
By the same measure that they frown or smile.
When well receiv'd by hospitable foes,
The kindness he returns, is to expose;
For courtesies, though undeserv'd and great,
No gratitude in felon-minds beget;

As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat.
His praise of foes is venomously nice;

So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice:
'A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice.'
Seven sacraments he wisely does disown,
Because he knows confession stands for one;
Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd,
And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd:
But he, uncall'd, his patron to control,
Divulg'd the secret whispers of his soul;
Stood forth th' accusing Satan of his crimes,
And offer'd to the Moloch of the times.
Prompt to assail, and careless of defence,
Invulnerable in his impudence,

He dares the world; and, eager of a name,
He thrusts about, and justles into fame.
Frontless, and satire-proof, he scowers the streets,
And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets.
So fond of loud report, that not to miss
Of being known, (his last and utmost bliss)
He rather would be known for what he is.

"Such was, and is, the captain of the Test,
Though half his virtues are not here express'd;
The modesty of fame conceals the rest.
The spleenful Pigeons never could create
A prince more proper to revenge their hate;
Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save.
A king, whom in his wrath th' Almighty gave:
For all the grace the landlord had allow'd,
But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud;
Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the
crowd.

They long their fellow-subjects to enthral,
Their patron's promise into question call,
And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all.
"False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest,
As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd;
Nor sighs, nor groans, nor gogling eyes, did want;
For now the Pigeons too had learn'd to cant.
The house of prayer is stock'd with large increase;
Nor doors nor windows can contain the press:
For birds of every feather fill th' abode; ›
Ev'n atheists out of envy own a God:
And reeking from the stews adulterers come,
Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome.
That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute,
Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute :
No rigour of the laws to be releas'd,
And much the less, because it was their lord's request:
They thought it great their sovereign to control,
And nam'd their pride, nobility of soul.

""Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect,
Were short of power, their purpose to effect:
But with their quills did all the hurt they could,
And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food:
And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir,
Though naming not the patron, to infer
With all respect, he was a gross idolater.

"But when th' imperial owner did espy, That thus they turn'd his grace to villainy,