Seem only to regard your friends,
But use them for your private ends.
Stint not to truth the flow of wit;

Be prompt to lie, whene'er 'tis fit.
Bend all
your force to spatter merit ;
Scandal is conversation's spirit.
Boldly to everything pretend,
And men your talents shall commend.
I knew the great. Observe me right;
So shall you grow, like man, polite."
He spoke, and bow'd. With muttering jaws
The wondering circle grinn'd applause.

Now, warm'd with malice, envy, spite,
Their most obliging friends they bite;
And, fond to copy human ways,
Practise new mischiefs all their days.
Thus the dull lad, too tall for school,
With travel finishes the fool;

Studious of every coxcomb's airs,

He drinks, games, dresses, whores, and swears; O'erlooks with scorn all virtuous arts,

For vice is fitted to his parts.

THE Sage, awaked at early day,
Through the deep forest took his way;
Drawn by the music of the groves,
Along the winding gloom he roves :
From tree to tree the warbling throats
Prolong the sweet alternate notes;
But where he pass'd he terror threw,
The song broke short, the warblers flew ;
The thrushes chatter'd with affright,
And nightingales abhorr'd his sight;
All animals before him ran,

To shun the hateful sight of man.

FABLE XV.

"Whence is this dread of

every creature?
Fly they our figure or our nature?”
As thus he walk'd in musing thought,
His ear imperfect accents caught;
With cautious steps he nearer drew,
By the thick shade conceal'd from view.
High on the branch a Pheasant stood,
Around her all her listening brood;
Proud of the blessings of her nest,
She thus a mother's care express'd:
"No dangers here shall circumvent:
Within the woods enjoy content.
Sooner the hawk or vulture trust

Than man, of animals the worst:
In him ingratitude you find,

A vice peculiar to the kind.

The sheep, whose annual fleece is dyed
To guard his health, and serve his pride;
Forced from his fold and native plain,
Is in the cruel shambles slain.

The swarms who, with industrious skill,
His hives with wax and honey fill,
In vain whole summer days employ'd;
Their stores are sold, the race destroy'd.

What tribute from the

goose is paid!

Does not her wing all science aid?

Does it not lovers' hearts explain,

And drudge to raise the merchant's ́gain?
What now rewards this general use?

He takes the quills, and eats the goose.

Man then avoid, detest his ways,
So safety shall prolong your days.
When services are thus acquitted,

Be sure we Pheasants must be spitted."

A PIN who long had served a beauty,
Proficient in the toilet's duty,

Had form'd her sleeve, confined her hair,
Or given her knot a smarter air,
Now nearest to her heart was placed,
Now in her mantua's tail disgraced;
But could she partial fortune blame,
Who saw her lovers served the same?

At length, from all her honours cast,
Through various turns of life she past;
Now glitter'd on a tailor's arm,
Now kept a beggar's infant warm ;
Now, ranged within a miser's coat,
Contributes to his yearly groat;