« ПредишнаНапред »
The goat remark'a her pulse was high,
Her languid liead, 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 coniplain'd
His fides a load of wool sustain'd,
Said he was slow, confest his fears ;
For hounds eat fheep as well as hares.
She now the trotting calf addreft,
To save from death a friend diftreft.
Shall I, says he, of tender age,
In this important care engage?
Older and abler past you bye; .
How strong are those ! how weak am I!
Should I presume to bear you hence,
Those friends of mine might take offence,
Excuse me then. You know my heart.
But dearest friends, alas, must pait! .
How shall we all lament! Adieu..
For see the hoạnds are just in view...
LII. The Dog and the Fox.
To a LAWYER.
I KNOW you Lawyers can with ease,
| Twist words and meanings as you please;
That language, by your fkill made pliant,
Will bend to favour every client;
That 'tis the fee directs the sense
To make out either fide's pretence.
When you peruse the cleareff case,
You see it with a double facé;..;.
For scepticism's your profession :
You hold there's doubt in all expression.
Hence is the bar with fees fupply'd ;
Hence eloquence takes cither fide :
Your hand would have but paltry gleaning,
Could every man exprefs 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 engroft:
And now we're welī fecur'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 mcant.
Since things are thus, fe defendendo,
I bar fallacious inuendo.
Sagacious Porta's skill could trace Some beast or bird in every face ; The head, the eye, the nose's thape, Prov'd this an owl, and that an ape. When, in the sketches thus design'd, Refemblance brings fome friend to mind, You show the piece, and give the hint, And find each feature in the print ; So monst'rous like the portrait's found, All know it, and the laugh goes round. Like him, I draw from gen'ral 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 flander 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 censuré vice, Because a knave is over-nice? And, left the guilty hear and dread, Shall not the Decalogue be read ? If I lash vice in gen'ral fiction, Is't I apply or self-conviction ? Brutes are my theme: Am I to blame, If Men in morals are the fame?
I no man call or ape or ass,
'Tis his own conscience holds the glass.
Thus void of all offence I write;
Who claims the Fable, knows his right.
A Shepherd's Dog; unskill'd in sports,
Pick'd up acquaintance of all sorts ;
Among the rest, a Fox he knew,
By frequent chat their friendship grew."
Says Reynard, 'Tis a cruel case,
That man should stigmatize our race :
No doubt, among us, rogues you find,
As anong dogs and human kind;
And yet (unknown to me and you)
There may be honest men and true.
Thus slander tries, whate'er it can,
To put us on the foot with man.
Let my own actions recommend,
No prejudice can blind a friend ;
You know me free from all disguise,
My honour as my life I prize,
By talk like this, from all mistrust
The Dog was cur’d, and thought him just.
As on a time the Fox held forth, On conscience, honesty, and worth, Sudden he stopp'd, he cock'd his ear; Low dropt his bushy tail with fear.
Bless us! the hunters are abroad : What's all that clatter on the road ?
Hold, fays the Dog, we're safe from harm, 'Twas nothing but a false alarm. At yonder town 'tis market-day, Some farmer's wife is in the way; 'Tis fo, (I know her pyeball'd mare) Dame Dobbins with her poultry ware.
Reynard grew huff. Says he, 1 his fneer From you I little thought to hear; Your ineaning in your looks I see: Pray what's Dame Dobbins, friend, to me?
Did I e'er make her poultry thinner?.. .
Prove that I owe the Dame a dinner.
Friend, quoth the Cur, I meant no harın :
Then why so captious ? Why so warm?
My words, in common acceptation,
Could never give this provocation.
No lamb (for ought I ever knew)
May be more innocent than you..
At this gall’d Reynard winc'd and swore,
Such language ne'er was given before.
What's lainb to me? This faucy hint
Shews me base knave, which way you squint.
If t'other night your master loft
Three lambs, am I to pay the cost ?.
Your vile reflections would imply
That I'm the thief. You Dog, you lie.
Thộu knave, thou fool, (the Dog reply'd)
The name is just, take either side;
Thy guilt there applications fpeak,
Sirrah, 'tis conscience makes you fqueak.
So saying; on the Fox he flies;
The felt-convicted felon dies.
LIII. The Vulture, the SPARROW, and the other
To a Friend in the Country.
IDRE I begin, I must premise,
u Our ministers are good and wise;
So, though malicious tongues apply,
· Pray, what care they, or what care I ? .
If I am free with courts, be't known,
I ne'er presume to mean our own.
If gen’ral inorals seem to joke
On ministers, and such like folk, .
A captious fool may take offence,
What then? He knows his own pretence.
I meddle with no state affairs,
But spare my jest to save my ears.
Our present schemes are too profound
For Machiavel himself to found :
To cenfure 'em I've no pretension,
I own they're past my comprehension.
You say your brother wants a place,
('Tis many a younger brother's cale)
And that he very foon intends
To ply the court and teaze his friends.
If there his merits chance to find
A patriot of an open mind,
Whose constant actions prove him just
To both a king's and people's trust,
May he with gratitude attend,
And owe his rise to such a friend.
You praise his parts for bus'ness fit,
Ilis learning, probity, and wit;
But those alone will never do,
Unless his patron have 'em too.
I've heard of times (pray God defend us,
We're not so good but he can mend us)
When wicked ministers have trod
On kings and people, law and God ; ' '
With arrogance they girt the throne,
And knew no int'rest but their own.
Then virtue, from preferment barr’d,
Gets nothing but its own reward.
A gang of petty knives attend 'em,
With proper parts to recommend 'em :
Then, if his patron burn with lust,
The first in favour's pimp the first.
His doors are never clos'd, he spies
Who chear his heart with double lies :
'ihey flatter him, his foes defame,
So lull the pangs of guilt and shame.