But soon, exposed to public hate,

The favourite's fall redress'd the state.
The Leopard, vindicating right,

Had brought his secret frauds to light.
As rats, before the mansion falls,
Desert late hospitable walls,

In shoals the servile creatures run,
To bow before the rising sun.

The Hog with warmth express'd his zeal,
And was for hanging those who steal;
But hoped, though low, the public hoard
Might half a turnip still afford.

Since saving measures were profess'd,
A lamb's head was the wolf's request.
The fox submitted,-if to touch

A gosling would be deem'd too much.
The Monkey thought his grin and chatter
Might ask a nut, or some such matter.

"Ye Hirelings! hence," the Leopard cries; "Your venal conscience I despise :

He who the public good intends,

By bribes needs never purchase friends.
Who acts this just, this open part,
Is propp'd by every honest heart.
Corruption now too late has show'd,
That bribes are always ill bestow'd:
By you your bubbled master's taught,
Time-serving tools, not friends, are bought."

THE DEGENERATE BEES.

To the Rev. Dr. Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's.
THOUGH Courts the practice disallow,
A friend at all times I'll avow.
In politics I know 'tis wrong;
A friendship may be kept too long;
And what they call the prudent part
Is to wear interest next the heart:

As the times take a different face,
Old friendship should to new give place.
I know, too, you have many foes;
That owning you is sharing those;
That every knave in every station,
Of high and low denomination,

For what you speak, and what
you write,
Dread you at once, and bear you spite.
Such freedoms in your works are shown,
They can't enjoy what's not their own.
All dunces, too, in church and state,
In frothy nonsense show their hate;
With all the petty scribbling crew,
(And those pert sots are not a few)
'Gainst you and Pope their envy spurt;
The booksellers alone are hurt.

Good gods! by what a powerful race
(For blockheads may have power
and place)
Are scandals raised, and libels writ,
To prove your honesty and wit!
Think with yourself: those worthy men,
You know, have suffer'd by your pen.
From them you've nothing but your due,

From hence, 'tis plain, your friends are few.
Except myself, I know of none,
Besides the wise and good alone.
To set the case in fairer light,
My Fable shall the rest recite;
Which (though unlike our present state)

I for the moral's sake relate.

A Bee of cunning, not of parts,

Luxurious, negligent of arts,

Rapacious, arrogant, and vain,
Greedy of

power, but more of gain, Corruption sow'd throughout the hive: By petty rogues the great ones thrive.

As power and wealth his views supplied "Twas seen in overbearing pride.

With him loud impudence had merit;
The Bee of conscience wanted spirit ;
And those who followed honour's rules
Were laugh'd to scorn for squeamish fools.
Wealth claim'd distinction, favour, grace,
And poverty alone was base.

He treated industry with slight,
Unless he found his profit by't.

Rights, laws, and liberties give way,
To bring his selfish schemes in play.
The swarm forgot the common toil,
To share the gleanings of his spoil.
"While vulgar souls, of narrow parts,
Waste life in low mechanic arts:
Let us," says he, "to genius born,
The drudgery of our fathers scorn.
The Wasp and Drone, you must agree,
Live with more elegance than we.
Like gentlemen they sport and play;
No business interrupts the day:
Their hours to luxury they give,
And nobly on their neighbours live."
A stubborn Bee, among the swarm,
With honest indignation warm,

Thus from his cell with zeal replied:

"I slight thy frowns, and hate thy pride.

The laws our native rights protect;

Offending thee, I those respect.

Shall luxury corrupt the hive,

And none against the torrent strive?
Exert the honour of your race;
He builds his rise on your disgrace.
'Tis industry our state maintains,
"Twas honest toil and honest gains
That raised our sires to power and fame.
Be virtuous; save yourselves from shame.
Know that in selfish ends pursuing,

You scramble for the public ruin."

He spoke; and from his cell dismiss'd, Was insolently scoff'd and hiss'd:

With him a friend or two resign'd,

Disdaining the degenerate kind,

"These Drones," says he, "these insects vile,

(I treat 'em in their proper style,)

May for a time oppress the state:
They own our virtue by their hate;
By that our merits they reveal,
And recommend our public zeal;
Disgraced by this corrupted crew,
We're honour'd by the virtuous few."