Thus said. He mounts the margin's round, And pries into the depth profound.

He stretch'd his neck; and from below
With stretching neck advanc'd a foe;
With wrath his ruffled plumes he rears,
The foe with ruffled plumes appears:
Threat answer'd threat, his fury grew,
Headlong to meet the war he flew.
But when the wat'ry death he found,
He thus lamented as he drown'd:
'I ne'er had been in this condition,
But for my mother's prohibition.'

FABLE XXI.

The Rat-catcher and Cuts.

THE rats by night such mischief did,
Betty was ev'ry morning chid.

They undermin'd whole sides of bacon,
Her cheese was sapp'd, her tarts were taken;

Her pasties, fenc'd with thickest paste,

Were all demolish'd and laid waste:
She curs❜d the Cat for want of duty,
Who left her foes a constant booty.
An engineer of noted skill,
Engag'd to stop the growing ill;
From room to room he now surveys

Their haunts, their works, their secret ways;
Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade,
And whence the nightly sally 's made.
An envious Cat from place to place,
Unseen, attends his silent pace.
She saw, that if this trade went on,
The purring race must be undone ;
So, secretly removes his baits,
And every stratagem defeats.

Again he sets the poison'd toils,
And Puss again the labour foils.
"What foe (to frustrate my designs)
My schemes thus nightly countermines?"
Incens'd he cries; this very hour

The wretch shall bleed beneath my pow'r.'

So said. A pond'rous trap he brought, And in the fact poor Puss was caught.

'Smuggler,' says he, thou shalt be made A victim to our loss of trade.'

The captive Cat, with piteous mews,
For pardon, life, and freedom sues.
A sister of the science spare;
One int'rest is our common care.

What insolence!' the man reply'd;
'Shall Cats with us the game divide?
Were all your interloping band
Extinguish'd, or expell'd the land,
We Rat-catchers might raise our fees,
Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!'
A Cat, who saw the lifted knife,
Thus spoke, and sav'd her sister's life;
'In ev'ry age and clime we see,
Two of a trade can ne'er agree.

Each hates his neighbour for encroaching:
'Squire stigmatizes 'squire for poaching;
Beauties with beauties are in arms,
And scandal pelts each other's charms.
Kings, too, their neighbour kings dethrone,
In hope to make the world their own.
But let us limit our desires;

Nor war like beauties, kings, and 'squires;
For though we both one prey pursue,

There's game enough for us and you.'

FABLE XXII.

The Goat without a Beard.

"Tis certain, that the modish passions
Descend among the crowd, like fashions.
Excuse me then, if pride, conceit
(The manners of the fair and great),
I give to monkeys, asses, dogs,

Fleas, owls, goats, butterflies, and hogs.
I say, that these are proud. What then?
I never said they equal men.

A Goat, as vain as Goat could be,
Affected singularity:

Whene'er a thymy bank he found,
He roll'd upon the fragrant ground;
And then, with fond attention stood,
Fix'd o'er his image in the flood.

'I hate my frowzy beard," he cries;
My youth is lost in this disguise.
Did not the females know my vigour,
Well might they loath this rev'rend figure.'
Resolv'd to smooth his shaggy face,
He sought the barber of the place;
A flippant monkey, spruce and smart,
Hard by, profess'd the dapper art;
His pole with pewter basons hung,
Black rotten teeth in order strung,
Rang'd cups, that in the window stood,
Lin'd with red rags, to look like blood,
Did well his threefold trade explain,
Who shav'd, drew teeth, and breath'd a vein.
The Goat he welcomes with an air,

And seats him in his wooden chair:
Mouth, nose, and cheek, the lather hides:
Light, smooth and swift, the razor glides.
'1 hope your custom, Sir,' says Pug;
'Sure never face was half so snug.'
The Goat, impatient for applause,
Swift to the neighbouring hill withdraws;
The shaggy people grinn'd and star'd.

મ

'Heighday! what's here? without a beard! Say, brother, whence the dire disgrace? What envious hand hath robb'd your face?' When thus the fop, with smiles of scorn: 'Are beards by civil nations worn?

Ev'n Muscovites have mow'd their chins:

Shall we, like formal Capuchins,
Stubborn in pride, retain the mode,
And bear about the hairy load?
Whene'er we through the village stray,
Are we not 'mock'd along the way;
Insulted with loud shouts of scorn,
By boys our beards disgrac'd and torn?'
'Were you no more with goats to dwell,
Brother, I grant you reason well,'

Replies a bearded chief. Beside,
If boys can mortify thy pride,
How wilt thou stand the ridicule
Of our whole flock? affected fool!
Coxcombs, distinguish'd from the rest,
To all but coxcombs are a jest.'

FABLE XXIII.

The Old Woman and her Cats.

WHO friendship with a knave hath made
Is judg'd a partner in the trade.
The matron who conducts abroad
A willing nymph is thought a bawd;
And if a modest girl be seen

With one who cures a lover's spleen,
We guess her not extremely nice,
And only wish to know her price.
'Tis thus, that on the choice of friends,
Our good or evil name depends.

A wrinkled Hag, of wicked fame,
Beside a little smoky flame

Sat hov'ring, pinch'd with age and frost;
Her shrivell'd hands, with veins emboss'd,
Upon her knees her weight sustains,
While palsy shook her crazy brains:
She mumbles forth her backward prayers,
An untam'd scold of fourscore years.
About her swarm'd a num'rous brood
Of Cats, who, lank with hunger, mew'd.
Teaz'd with their cries, her choler grew,
And thus she sputter'd: Hence, ye csow!
Fool that I was, to entertain

Such imps, such fiends, a hellish train !
Had ye been never hous'd and nurs'd,
I, for a witch had ne'er been curs'd.
To you I owe that crowds of boys
Worry me with eternal noise;
Straws laid across my pase retard,

The horse-shoe 's nail'd (each threshold's guard), The stunted broom the wenches hide,

and ride;

They stick with pins my bleeding seat,
And bid me shew my secret teat.'

'To hear you prate would vex a saint;
Who hath most reason of complaint?'
Replies a Cat. Let's come to proof;
Had we ne'er starv'd beneath your roof,
We had, like others of our race,
In credit liv'd as beasts of chase.
'Tis infamy to serve a hag;

Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag!
And boys against our lives combine,
Because, 'tis said, your cats have nine.'

FABLE XXIV.

The Butterfly and the Snail.

ALL 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,
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.

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 gard'ner cries:

What means yon peasant's daily toil,
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 plum's inviting blue?
Were they to feast his taste design'd,
That vermin of voracious kind?

Crush then the slow, the pilf'ring race;
So purge thy garden from disgrace.'
'What arrogance!' the Snail replied;
"How insolent is upstart pride!