The cryftal fhines with fainter rays,
Before the di'mond's brighter blaze;
And fops will fay, the di'mond dies
Before the luftre of your eyes:
But I, who deal in truth, deny.
That neither fhine when you are by.
When zephyrs o'er the bloffoms ftray,
And fweets along the air convey,
Shan't I the fragrant breeze inhale,
Because you breathe a fweeter gale?
Sweet are the flow'rs that deck the field,
Sweet is the fmell the bloffoms yield,
Sweet is the fummer gale that blows,
And sweet, tho' fweeter you, the rofe.
Shall envy then torment your breaft,
If you are lovelier than the reft?
For while I give to each her due,
By praifing them I flatter you;
And praifing moft, I ftill declare
You faireft, where the reft are fair.
As at his board a Farmer fate,
Replenish'd by his homely treat,
His fav'rite Spaniel near him stood,
And with his mafter fhared the food;
The crackling bones his jaws devour'd,
His lapping tongue the trenchers fcour'd;
"Till fated now, fupine he lay,
And fnor'd the rifing fumes away.
The hungry Cat, in turn, drew near,
And humbly crav'd a fervant's fhare;
Her modeft worth the Mafter knew,
And straight the fat'ning morfel threw;
Enrag'd, the fnarling Cur awoke,
And thus, with fpiteful envy, spoke:
They only claim a right to eat,
Who earn by fervices their meat.
Me zeal and industry inflame,
To fcour the fields and fpring the game;
Or, plunging in the wintry wave,
For man the wounded bird to fave.
With watchful diligence I keep,
From prowling wolves, his fleecy fheep;
At home his midnight hours fecure,
And drive the robber from the door.
For this his breaft with kindnefs glows,
For this his hand the food bestows;
And fhall thy indolence impart
A warmer friendship to his heart,
That thus he robs me of my due,
To pamper fuch vile things as you?
I own (with meeknefs, Pufs reply'd)
Superior merit on your fide;
Nor does my breaft with envy fwell,
To find it recompenc'd fo well;
Yet I, in what my nature can,
Contribute to the good of man.
Whofe claws deftroy the pilf'ring mouse?
Who drives the vermin from the house?
Or, watchful for the lab'ring fwain,
From lurking rats fecures the grain?
From hence, if he rewards beftow,
Why fhould your heart with gall o'erflow?
Why pine my happiness to fee,
Since there's enough for you and me?
Thy words are juft, the Farmer cry'd,
And fpurn'd the fnarler from his fide.
LXXIV. The OWL and the NIGHTINGALE.
O know the miftrefs' humour right,
See if her maids are clean and tight;
If Betty waits without her stays,
She copies but her lady's ways.
When Mifs comes in with boift'rous fhout,
And drops no court'fy, going out,
Depend upon't mamma is one
Who reads or drinks too much alone.
If bottled beer her thirst affuage,
She feels enthufiaftic rage,"
And burns with ardour to inherit
The gifts, and workings of the fpirit.
If learning crack her giddy brains,
No remedy, but death, remains.
Sum up the various ills of life,
And all are fweet to fuch a wife.
At home, fuperior wit the vaunts,
And twits her husband with his wants;
Her ragged offspring all around,
Like pigs, are wallowing on the ground;
Impatient ever of controul,
She knows no order, but of foul;
With books her litter'd floor is fpread,
Of nameless authors, never read;
Foul linen, petticoats, and lace,
Fill up the intermediate fpace.
Abroad, at vifitings, her tongue
Is never ftill, and always wrong;
All meanings the defines away,
And ftands, with truth and fenfe, at bay.
If e'er fhe meets a gentle heart,
Skill'd in the housewife's useful art,
Who makes her family her care,
And builds Contentment's temple there,
She starts at fuch mistakes in Nature,
And cries, lord help us! what a creature!
Meliffa, if the moral strike,
You'll find the fable not unlike.
An Owl, puff'd up with felf-conceit,
Lov'd learning better than his meat;
Old manufcripts he treafur'd up,
And rummag'd ev'ry grocer's fhop;
At paftry-cooks was known to ply,
And ftrip for fcience every pye.
For modern poetry, and wit,
He had read all that Blackmore writ;
So intimate with Curl was grown,
His learned treafures were his own;
To all his authors had accefs,
And fometimes would correct the prefs.
In logic he acquir'd fuch knowledge,
You'd fwear him fellow of a college;
Alike to every art, and fcience,
His daring genius bid defiance,
And fwallow'd wifdom, with that hafte,
That cits do cuftards at a feast.
Within the shelter of a wood,
One ev'ning, as he mufing stood,
Hard by, upon a leafy fpray,
A Nightingale began his lay.
Sudden he ftarts, with anger ftung,
And fcreeching, interrupts the fong.
Pert, bufy thing, thy airs give o'er,
And let my contemplations foar.
What is the mufic of thy voice,
But jarring diffonance, and noife?
Be wife. True harmony, thou❜lt find,
Not in the throat, but in the mind;
By empty chirping not attain'd,
But by laborious ftudy gain'd.
Go read the authors Pope explodes,
Fathom the depth of Cibber's odes,
With modern plays improve thy wit,
Read all the learning Henley writ;
And if thou need'ft muft fing, fing then,
And emulate the ways of men;
So fhalt thou grow, like me, refin'd,
And bring improvement to thy kind.
Thou wretch, the little warbler cry'd,
Made up of ignorance and pride,
Afk all the birds, and they'll declare,
A greater blockhead wings not air.
Read o'er thyfelf, thy talents fcan,
Science was only meant for man.
No useless authors me moleft,
I mind the duties of my neft;
With careful wing protect my young,
And chear their ev'nings with a fong;
Make fhort the weary trav'llers way,
And warble in the poets, lay..
Thus, following Nature, and her laws, From men, and birds I claim applaufe; While, nurs'd in pedantry, and floth, An Owl is fcorn'd alike by both.
LXXV. The THRUSH and PYE.
NONCEAL'D within an hawthorn bush,
We're told, that an experienc'd Thrush
Inftructed, in the prime of spring,
Many a neighbouring bird to fing.
She caroll'd, and her various fong
Gave leffons to the lift'ning throng:
But (the entangling boughs between)
'Twas her delight to teach unfeen.
At length, the little wond'ring race
Would fee their fav'rite face to face;
They thought it hard to, be deny'd,
And begg'd that he'd no longer hide.
O'er modeft, worth's peculiar fault,
Another fhade the tut'refs fought;
And loth to be too much admir'd,
In fecret from the bufh retir'd.
An impudent, prefuming Pye,
Malicious, ignorant, and fly,
Stole to the matron's vacant feat,
And in her arrogance elate,
Ruth'd forward-with-"My friends, you fee
"The miftrefs of the choir in me:
"Here, be your due devotion paid,
"I am the fongftrefs of the fhade."
A Linnet, that fat lift'ning nigh,
Made the impoftor this reply:
"I fancy, friend, that vulgar throats
"Were never form'd for warbling notes:
"But if thefe leffons came from you,
"Repeat them in the public view;
"That your affertions may be clear,
"Let us behold, as well as hear."
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