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Attacks again with levell'd horns,
And man, that was his terror, scorns.
Such is the country maiden's fright,
When first a Redcoat is in sight;
Behind the door she hides her face,
Next time at distance eyes the lace:
She now can all his terrors stand,
Nor from his squeeze withdraws her hand.
She plays familiar in his arms,

And every soldier hath his charms.

From tent to tent she spreads her flame;

For custom conquers fear and shame.

THE MONKEY

WHO HAD SEEN THE WORLD.

A MONKEY, to reform the times,
Resolv❜d to visit foreign climes ;
For men in distant regions roam
To bring politer manners home.
So forth he fares, all toil defies :
Misfortune serves to make us wise.

At length the treacherous snare was laid; Poor Pug was caught; to Town convey'd; There sold. (How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady's room!)

Proud, as a lover, of his chains,
He day by day her favour gains.
Whene'er the duty of the day
The toilette calls; with mimic play
He twirls her knots, he cracks her fan,
Like any other gentleman.

In visits, too, his parts and wit,

When jests grew dull, were sure to hit.
Proud with applause, he thought his mind
In every courtly art refin'd;

Like Orpheus, burnt with public zeal,
To civilize the Monkey-weal;

So watch'd occasion, broke his chain,
And sought his native woods again.

The hairy sylvans round him press,
Astonish'd at his strut and dress.
Some praise his sleeve, and others glote
Upon his rich embroider'd coat,
His dapper periwig commending,
With the black tail behind depending;
His powder'd back, above, below,
Like hoary frosts, or fleecy snow;
But all, with envy and desire,
His fluttering shoulder-knot admire.

'Hear and improve, (he pertly cries)

I come to make a nation wise.

Weigh your own worth; support your place, The next in rank to human race.

In cities long I pass'd my days,

Convers'd with men, and learn'd their ways.

Their dress, their courtly manners see;
Reform your state, and copy me.

Seek ye to thrive? in flattery deal;
Your scorn, your hate, with that conceal.
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 every thing 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.

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THE

PHILOSOPHER AND THE PHEASANTS.

THE Sage, awak'd 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 past 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.

'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 step 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 dy’d
To guard his health, and serve his pride,
Forc'd 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.'

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