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FABLE XXIV.

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SNAIL.

ΑΙ LL upstarts, insolent in place,

Remind us of their vulgar race..
As in the sunshine of the morn:
A Butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose,

5
With pert conceit his bosom glows ;
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he displays; the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes and various hue.

IO His now-forgotten friend, a snail, Beneath his house, with slimy trail, Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies, In wrath he to the gardener cries :

“ What means yon' peasant's daily toil, 15 From choaking weeds to rid the soil ? Why wake you to the morning's care ? Why with new arts correct the year? Why grows the peach with crimson hue? And why the plumb's inviting blue? Were they to feaft his taste design'd, That vermin of voracious kind! Crush then the now, the pilfering race, So purge thy garden from disgrace."

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“ What arrogance! the Snail reply'd;
How insolent is upstart pride!
Hadst thou not thus, with insult vain,
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the scum of earth:
For scarce nine fans have wak'd the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers,
Since I thy humbler life survey'd,
In base, in fordid guise array'd;
A hideous infect, vile, unclean,
You drag'd a flow and noisome train ;
And from your spider-bowels drew
Foul film, and spun the dirty clue.
I own my humble life, good friend;
Snail was I born, and Snail shall end.'
And what's a Butterfly? at best
He's but a caterpillar drest ;
And all thy race (a numerous (seed).
Shall prove of caterpillar breed."

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F A BL E. XXV.

THE SCOLD AND THE PARROT.

'HE husband thus reprov'd his wife:

.

Art thou the herald of disgrace,
Denouncing war to all thy race;
Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage,

5 Which spares nor friend, nor sex, nor age?

That

IO

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That vixen tongue of your's, my Dear,
Alarms our neighbours far and near.
Good Gods! 'tis like a rolling river,
That murmuring flows, and flows for ever!
Ne’er tir’d, perpetual discord fowing!
Like Fame, it gathers strength by going."

Heigh-day!” the flippant tongue replies,
" How solemn is the fool! how wife!
Is Nature's choiceft gift debarr'd ?

IS
Nay, frown not; for. I will be heard.
Women of late are finely ridden,
A Parrot's privilege forbidden !
You praise his talk, his squalling fong;
But wives are always in the wrong."

Now reputations flew in pieces
Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces:
She ran the Parrot's language o'er,
Bawd, huffy, drunkard, flattern, whore ;
On all the sex fhe vents her fury,

25 Tries and condemns without a jury.

At once the torrent of her words
Alarm'd cat, monkey, dogs, and birds :
All join their forces to confound her,
Puss fpits, the monkey chatters round her;

30 The yelping cur her heels affaults; The magpie blabs out all her faults; Poll, in the uproar, from his cage, With this rebuke outscream'd her rage. “ A Parrot is for talking priz'd,

35 But prattling women are despis'd.

She

She who attacks another's honour,
Draws every living thing upon her.
Think, Madam, when you stretch your lungs,
That all your neighbours too have tongues: 4
One slander must ten thousand get;
The world with interest pays the debt.

F A BLE XXVI.

THE CUR AND THE MASTIFF..

A fpy,

Rewarded for his daily lye,
With secret jealousies and fears,
Set all together by the ears..
Poor Puss to-day was in disgrace,
Another Cat fupply'd her place;
The Hound was beat, the Mastiff chid,
The Monkey was the room forbid;
Each to his dearest friend grew shy,
And none could tell the reason why.

A plan to rob the house was laid:
The thief with love seduc'd the maid,
Cajol'd the Cur, and stroak'd his head,
And bought his secrecy with bread;
He next the Mastiff's honour try'd,
Whose honest jaws the bribe defy'd;
He stretch'd his hand to proffer more;
The surly dog his fingers tore.

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Swift ran the Cur; with indignation
The Master took his information.
“ Hang him, 'the villain 's curs’d,” he cries;
And round his neck the halter ties.

The Dog his humble fuit preferr'd,
And beg'd in justice to be heard.
The master sate. On either hand
The cited Dogs confronting stand;
The Cur the bloody tale relates,
And, like a Lawyer, aggravates.

“ Judge not unheard, the Mastiff cry'd,
But weigh the cause of either side.
Think not that treachery can be just;
Take not informers' words on trust;
They ope their hand to every pay,
And you and me by turns betray."

He spoke; and all the truth appear’d:
The Cur was hang'd, the Mastiff clear'd.

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F A B L E XXVII.

THE SICK MAN

AND

THE ANGEL

“IS

S there no hope?" the fick man said.

The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his leave with signs of sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

When thus the Man, with gasping breath; 5 “ I feel the chilling wound of Death.

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