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At length his forfeit life hath paid;
See, on the wall his wings difplay'd,
Here nail'd, a terror to his kind,
My fowls fhall future fafety find,
My yard the thriving poultry feed,
And my barn's refufe fat the breed.
Friend, fays the Sage, the doom is wife,
For public good the murd'rer dies;
But if thefe tyrants of the air
Demand a fentence fo fevere,
Think how the glutton man devours;
What bloody feafts regale his hours!
O impudence of power and might!
Thus to condemn a hawk or kite.
When thou perhaps, carniv'rous finner,
Hadft pullets yesterday for dinner !
Hold, cry'd the Clown, with paffion heated,
Shall kites and men alike be treated?
When heaven the world with creatures ftor'd,
Man was ordain'd their fov'reign lord.
Thus tyrants boaft, the Sage reply'd,
Whofe murders fpring from power and pride;
Own then this manlike kite is flain,
Thy greater lux'iy to fuftain:

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For petty rogues fubmit to fate,

"That great ones may enjoy their state.”

XXXVIII.

WH

The FARMER'S WIFE and the RAVEN.

HY are those tears? Why droops your head?
Is then your other husband dead?

Or does a worfe difgrace betide?
Hath no one fince his death apply'd?
Alas! you know the caufe too well,
The falt is fpilt, to me it fell;
Then to contribute to my lofs,
My knife and fork were laid acrofs,

On

On Friday too! the day I dread!
Would I were fafe at home in bed!
Laft night (I vow to Heaven 'tis true!)
Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.
Next poft fome fatal news fhall tell;
God fend my Cornifh friends be well!
Unhappy widow, ceafe thy tears,
Nor feel affliction in thy fears;
Let not thy ftomach be fufpended,
Eat now, and weep when dinner's ended.
And when the butler clears the table,
For thy defert I'll read my fable.

Betwixt her fwagging pannier's load
A Farmer's Wife to market rode;
And, jogging on with thoughtful care,
Summ'd up the profits of her ware;
When starting from her filver dream,
Thus far and wide was heard to fcream :
That Raven on yon left-hand oak,
(Curfe on his ill-betiding croak)

Bodes me no good. No more fhe faid,
When poor blind Ball, with ftumbling tread,
Fell prone; o'erturn'd the pannier lay,
And her mafh'd eggs beftrew'd the way.
She, fprawling in the yellow road,
Rail'd, fwore, and curs'd: Thou croaking toad,
A murrain take thy whorefon throat!
I knew misfortune in thy note.

Dame, quoth the Raven, fpare your oaths,
Unclench your fift, and wipe your cloaths;
But why on me thofe curfes thrown?
Goody, the fault was all your own;
For had you laid this brittle ware
On Dun, the old fure-footed mare,
Though all the Ravens of the Hundred
With croaking had your tongue out-thunder'd,
Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,

And you, good Woman, fav'd your eggs.

03

T

XXXIX.

XXXIX.

The TURKEY and the ANT.

N other men we faults can spy,

IN

And blame the mote that dims their eye; Each little fpeck and blemish find, To our own ftronger errors blind.

A Turkey, tir'd of common food,
Forlook the barn, and fought the wood;
Behind her ran her infant train,
Collecting here and there a grain.
Draw near, my birds, the mother cries,
This hill delicious fare fupplies;
Behold the bufy Negro race,

See, millions blacken all the place;
Fear not. Like me with freedom' eat;
An Ant is most delightful meat.
How bleft, how envy'd were our life,
Could we but 'fcape the poult'rer's knife!
But man, curft man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas fhortens all our days;
Sometimes with oyfters we combine,
Sometimes affift the fav'ry chine.
From the low peafant to the lord,
The Turkey fmokes on ev'ry board.
Sure men for gluttony are curst,
Of the feven deadly fins the worst.

An Ant, who climb'd beyond his reach, Thus anfwer'd from the neighb'ring breach:

'Ere you remark another's fin,

Bid thy own confcience look within;
Controul thy own voracious bill,

Nor for a breakfast nations kill.

XL. The FATHER and JUPITER.

HE Man to Jove his fuit preferr'd,
He begg'd a Wife,-his prayer was heard:

THE

Jove wonder'd at his bold addrefling,
For how precarious is the blefling!

And ENTERTAINING FABLES.
A Wife he takes. And now for heirs
Again he worries Heaven with prayers.
Jove nods affent. Two hopeful boys
And a fine girl reward his joys.
Now more folicitous he grew,
And fet their future lives in view;
He faw that all refpects and duty.
Were paid to wealth, to power, and beauty,
Once more, he cries, accept my prayer,
Make my lov'd progeny thy care:
Let my first hope, my fav'rite boy,
All Fortune's richeft gifts enjoy;
My next with ftrong ambition fire,
May favour teach him to afpire,
'Till he the ftep of power afcend,
And courtiers to their idol bend.
With every grace, with every charm,
My daughter's perfect features arm:
If Heaven approve, a Father's bleft,
Jove fmiles, and grants him his request,
The first, a miler at the heart,
Studious of every griping art,

Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain,
And all his life devotes to gain.
He feels no joy, his cares increase,
He neither wakes, nor fleeps in peace;
In fancy'd want, (a wretch compleat).
He ftarves, and yet he dares not eat.

The next to fudden honours grew,
The thriving arts of courts he knew;
He reach'd the height of power and place,
Then fell the victim of difgrace.

Beauty with early bloom fupplies
His daughter's cheek, and points her eyes:
The vain coquette each fuit difdains,
And glories in her lovers' pains;
With age the fades, each lover flies,
Contemn'd, forlorn, the pines and dies.

1631

When

164

SELECT MORAL

When Jove the Father's grief furvey'd,
And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid,
Thus fpoke the God: By outward show
Men judge of happiness and woe;
Shall ignorance of good and ill
Dare to direct the eternal will?
Seek virtue; and of that poffeft,
To Providence refign the reft.

TH

XLI. The Two MONKEYS.

HE learned, full of inward pride,
The fops of outward fhow deride;
The fop, with learning at defiance,
Scoffs at the pedant and the science:
The Don, a formal, folemn ftrutter,
Defpifes Monfieur's airs and flutter;
While Monfieur mocks the formal fool,
Who looks, and fpeaks, and walks by rule.
Britain, a medley of the twain,

As pert as France, as grave as Spain,
In fancy wifer than the reft,

Laughs at them both,-of both the jeft.
Is not the Poet's chiming clofe
Cenfur'd by all the fons of profe?
While bards of quick imagination
Defpife the fleepy profe narration.
Men laugh at apes, they men contemn;
For what are we, but apes to them?

Two Monkeys went to Southwark fair,
No critics had a fourer air;

They forc'd their way thro' draggled folks,
Who gap'd to catch Jack Pudding's jokes;
Then took their tickets for the fhow,
And got by chance the foremost row..

To fee their grave, obferving face,
Provok'd a laugh through all the place.

Brother,

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