Where'er she mov'd, a servile crowd
Of fawning creatures cring'd and bow'd:
Assemblies every week she held
(Like modern belles), with coxcombs fill'd,
Where noise, and nonsense, and grimace,
And lies and scandal fill'd the place.
Behold the gay fantastic thing,
Encircled by the spacious ring,
Low-bowing, with important look,
As first in rank, the Monkey spoke.
'Gad take me, madam, but I swear,
No angel ever look'd so fair;
Forgive my rudeness, but I vow,
You were not quite divine till now;
Those limbs! that shape! and then those eyes, O, close them, or the gazer dies!'
'Nay, gentle pug, for goodness hush, I vow, and swear, you make me blush; I shall be angry at this rate;
'Tis so like flatt'ry, which I hate.'
The Fox, in deeper cunning vers'd,
The beauties of her mind rehears'd,
And talk'd of knowledge, taste, and sense,
To which the fair have vast pretence;
Yet well he knew them always vain
Of what they strive not to attain,
And play'd so cunningly his part,
That pug was rivall'd in his art.
The Goat avow'd his am'rons flame,
And burnt-for what he durst not name;
Yet hop'd a meeting in the wood
Might make his meaning understood.
Half angry at the bold address,
She frown'd; but yet she must confess,
Such beauties might inflame his blood,
But still his phrase was somewhat rude.
The Hog her neatness much admir'd,
The formal Ass her swiftness fir'd;
While all to feed her folly strove,
And by their praises shar'd her love.
The Horse, whose gen'rous heart disdain'd Applause, by servile flatt'ry gain'd,
With graceful courage silence broke,
And thus with indignation spoke:
When flatt'ring monkeys fawn and prate,
They justly raise contempt, or hate;
For merit's turn'd to ridicule,
Applauded by the grinning fool.
The artful fox your wit commends,
To lure you to his selfish ends;
From the vile flatt'rer turn away,
For knaves make friendships to betray.
Dismiss the train of fops and fools,
And learn to live by wisdom's rules;
Such beauties might the lion warm,
Did not your folly break the charm ;
For who would court that lovely shape,
To be the rival of an ape?
He said, and snorting in disdain, Spurn'd at the crowd, and sought the plain.
The Nightingale and Glow-worm.
THE prudent nymph, whose cheeks disclose
The lily, and the blushing rose,
From public view her charms will screen,
And rarely in the crowd be seen:
This simple truth shall keep her wise,
'The fairest fruits attract the flies.'
One night a Glow-worm, proud and vain,
Contemplating her glitt'ring train,
Cry'd, Sure there never was in nature
So elegant, so fine a creature.
All other insects that I see,
The frugal ant, industrious bee,
Or silk-worm, with contempt I view,
With all that low mechanic crew,
Who servilely their lives employ
In business, enemy to joy.
Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my scorn,
For grandeur only I was born,
Or sure am sprung from race divine,
And plac'd on earth to live and shine.
Those lights that sparkle so on high,"
Are but the glow-worms of the sky,
And kings on earth their gems admire,
Because they imitate my fire.
She spoke. Attentive on a spray,
A Nightingale forbore his lay;
He saw the shining morsel near,
And flew, directed by the glare;
Awhile he gaz'd with sober look,
And thus the trembling prey bespoke:
Deluded fool! with pride elate,
Know, 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate;
Less dazzling, long thou might'st have lain
Unheeded on the velvet plain :
Pride, soon or late, degraded mourns,
And beauty wrecks whom she adorns.
SIXTEEN, d' ye say! Nay, then 'tis time,
Another year destroys your prime.
But stay-the settlement! That's made,'
Why then 's my simple girl afraid?
Yet hold a moment, if you can,
And heedfully the fable scan.
The shades were filed, the morning blush'd,
The winds were in their caverns hush'd,
When Hymen, pensive and sedate,
Held o'er the fields his musing gait.
Behind him, through the greenwood shade,
Death's meagre form the god survey'd ;
Who quickly, with gigantic stride,
Out-went his pace, and join'd his side.
The chat on various subjects ran,
Till angry Hymen thus began:
Relentless Death, whose iron sway
Mortals reluctant must obey,
Still of thy pow'r shall I complain,
And thy too partial hand arraign?
When Cupid brings a pair of hearts,
All over stuck with equal darts,
Thy cruel shafts my hopes deride,
And cut the knot that Hymen tied.
Shall not the bloody, and the bold,
The miser hoarding up his gold,
The harlot, reeking from the stew,
Alone thy fell revenge pursue?
But must the gentle, and the kind,
Thy fury, undistinguish'd, find?
The monarch calmly thus reply'd:
Weigh well the cause, and then decide.
That friend of yours you lately nam'd,
Cupid, alone is to be blam'd;
Then let the charge be justly laid;
That idle boy neglects his trade.
And hardly once in twenty years,
A couple to your temple bears.
The wretches, whom your office blends,
Silenus now, or. Plutus sends:
Hence care, and bitterness, and strife,
Are common to the nuptial life.
Believe me; more than all mankind,
Your vot'ries my compassion find;
Yet cruel am I call'd, and base,
Who seek the wretched to release;
The captive from his bonds to free,
Indissoluble but for me.
'Tis I entice him to the yoke;
By me your crowded altars smoke:
For mortals boldly dare the noose,
Secure that Death will set them loose.
The Poet and his Patron.
WHY, Celia, is your spreading waist
So loose, so negligently lac'd?
Why must the wrapping bed-gown hide
Your snowy bosom's swelling pride?
How ill that dress adorns your head,
Distain'd, and rumpled from the bed?
Those clouds, that shade your blooming face,
A little water might displace,
As nature every morn bestows
The crystal dew, to cleanse the rose.
Those tresses, as the raven black,
That wav'd in ringlets down your back,
Uncomb'd, and injur❜d by neglect,
Destroy the face, which once they deck'd.
Whence this forgetfulness of dress?
Pray, madam, are you married?—Yes.
Nay, then indeed the wonder ceases,
No matter now how loose your dress is:
The end is won, your fortune's made,
Your sister now may take the trade.
Alas! what pity 'tis to find
This fault in half the female kind!
From hence proceed aversion, strife,
And all that sours the wedded life.
Beauty can only point the dart,
'Tis neatness guides it to the heart;
Let neatness then and beauty strive
To keep a way'ring flame alive.
'Tis harder far (you'll find it true)
To keep the conquest, than subdue;
Admit us once behind the screen,
What is there farther to be seen?
A newer face may raise the flame,
But every woman is the same.
Then study chiefly to improve
The charm that fix'd your husband's love;
Weigh well his humour. Was it dress,
That gave your beauty power to bless?
Pursue it still, be neater seen,
'Tis always frugal to be clean;
So shall you keep alive desire,
And time's swift wing shall fan the fire.
In garret high (as stories say)
A Poet sung his tuneful lay;
So soft, so smooth his verse, you'd swear
Apollo and the Muses there;
Through all the town his praises rung,
His sonnets at the playhouse sung:
High waving o'er his lab'ring head,
The goddess Want her pinions spread,
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