Let Envy then no more torment,

Think on the Ox, and learn content.

Thus faid; clofe-following at her heel, With chearful heart he mounts the wheel.

LXVI. The RAVENS, the SEXTON, and the EARTH

WORM.

To LAURA.

LAURA, methinks you're over nice.

True. Flatt'ry is a fhocking vice:
Yet fure, whene'er the praise is just,
One may commend without difguft.
Am I a privilege deny'd,

Indulg'd by ev'ry tongue befide?
How fingular are all your ways?
A woman, and averfe to praife!
If 'tis offence fuch truths to tell,
Why do your merits thus excel?

Since then I dare not speak my mind,
A truth confpicuous to mankind;
Though in full luftre ev'ry grace
Distinguish your celeftial face,
Though beauties of inferior ray
(Like ftars before the orb of day)
Turn pale and fade: I check my lays,
Admiring what I dare not praise.
If you the tribute due difdain,
The Mufe's mortifying strain
Shall, like a woman, in mere spite

Set beauty in a moral light.

Though fuch revenge might shock the ear

Of many a celebrated fair;

I mean that fuperficial race,

Whofe thoughts ne'er reach beyond their face,-
What's that to you? I but difplease

Such ever-girlish ears as thefe.

Virtue can brook the thoughts of age,
That lafts the fame through ev'ry ftage.
Though you by time muft fuffer more
Than ever woman loft before,

To age is fuch indifference shewn,
As if your face were not your own.
Were you by Antoninus taught,
Or is it native ftrength of thought,
That thus, without concern or fright,
You view yourself by Reason's light?
Thofe eyes of fo divine a ray,
What are they? mould'ring, mortal clay.
Thofe features, caft in heavenly mould,
Shall, like my coarfer earth, grow old;
Like common grafs, the fairest flow'r
Muft feel the hoary feafons' pow'r.
How weak, how vain is human pride!
Dares man upon himself confide?
The wretch who glories in his gain,
Amaffes heaps on heaps in vain.
Why lose we life in anxious cares
To lay in hoards for future years?
Can thofe (when tortur'd by difeafe)
Chear our fick heart, or purchase eafe?
Can thofe prolong one gafp of breath,
Or calm the troubled hour of death?

What's beauty? Call ye that your own,
A flow'r that fades as foon as blown?
What's man in all his boast of sway?
Perhaps the tyrant of a day.
Alike the laws of life take place,
Through ev'ry branch of human race:
The monarch of long regal line
Was rais'd from duft as frail as mine:
Can he pour health into his veins,
Or cool the fever's reftlefs pains?
Can he (worn down in Nature's courfe)
New-brace his feeble nerves with force ?

Can

Can he (how vain is mortal pow'r!) Stretch life beyond the deftin'd hour? Confider, man; weigh well the frame; The king, the beggar is the fame.

Duft form'd us all.

Each breathes his day,

Then finks into his native clay.
Beneath a venerable yew

That in the lonely church-yard grew,
Two Ravens fate. In folemn croak
Thus one his hungry friend bespoke:
Methinks I fcent fome rich repaft;
The favour ftrengthens with the blaft,-
Snuff then; the promis'd feaft inhale:
I tafte the carcafe in the gale.

Near yonder trees, the farmer's ftead,
From toil and daily drudg'ry freed,
Hath groan'd his laft. A dainty treat!
To birds of tafte delicious meat.

A Sexton, bufy at his trade,

To hear their chat fufpends his fpade:
Death ftruck him with no further thought,
Than meerly as the fees he brought.
Was ever two fuch blund'ring fowls,
In brains and manners lefs than owls!
Blockheads, fays he, learn more refpect.
Know ye on whom ye thus reflect?
In this fame grave (who does me right,
Muft own the work is ftrong and tight)
The 'fquire that yon fair hall poffeft,
To night fhall lay his bones at rest.
Whence could the grofs miftake proceed?
The 'fquire was fomewhat fat indeed.
What then? The meanest bird of prey
Such want of fenfe could ne'er betray,
For fure fuch diff'rence muft be found
(Suppofe the fmelling organs found)
In carcafes (fay what we can)
Or where's the dignity of man?

With due refpect to human race,
The Ravens undertook the cafe.
In fuch fimilitude of fcent,

Man ne'er could think reflection meant.
As Epicures extol a treat,

And feem their fav'ry words to eat,
They prais'd dead horfe, luxurious food,
The ven'fon of the prefcient brood.
The Sexton's indignation mov'd,
The mean comparison reprov'd;
Their undifcerning palate blam'd,
Which two-legg'd carrion thus defam'd.
Reproachful fpeech from either fide
The want of argument fupply'd.
They rail, revile; as often ends
The conteft of difputing friends.

Hold, fays the fowl; fince human pride
With confutation ne'er comply'd,
Let's ftate the cafe, and then refer
The knotty point; for tafte may err.
As thus he fpoke, from out the mould
An Earth-worm, huge of fize, unroll'd
His monstrous length. They ftraight agree
To chufe him as their referee.

So to the experience of his jaws
Each ftates the merits of the caufe.
He paus'd, and with a folemn tone,
Thus made his fage opinion known:
On carcafes of ev'ry kind

This maw hath elegantly din'd;
Provok'd by luxury or need,

On beaft, or fowl, or man I feed:
Such fmall diftinction's in the favour,
By turns I chufe the fancy'd flavour;
Yet I must own (that human beast)
A glutton is the rankeft feast.
Man, ceafe this boaft; for human pride
Hath various tracts to range betide;

The

The prince who kept the world in awe,
The judge whofe dictates fix'd the law,
The rich, the poor, the great, the fmall,
Are levell'd. Death confounds 'em all.
Then think not that we reptiles fhare
Such cates, fuch elegance of fare;
The only true and real good

Of man was never vermin's food:
'Tis feated in the immortal mind;
Virtue diftinguishes mankind,

And that (as yet ne'er harbour'd here)
Mounts with the foul we know not where.
So, good-man Sexton, fince the cafe
Appears with fuch a dubious face,
To neither I the caufe determine,

For diff'rent taftes please diff'rent vermin.