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 suns have wak'd the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flow'rs,
Since I thy humbler life survey'd,
In base and sordid guise array'd;
A hideous insect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a slow 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 num'rous seed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed."

FABLE XXV.

The Scold and the Parrot.

THE husband thus reprov'd his wife:
'Who deals in, slander, lives in strife.
Art thou the herald of disgrace,
Denouncing war to all thy race?
Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage,
Which spares nor friend, nor sex, nor age?
That vixen tongue of yours, my dear,
Alarms our neighbours far and near.
Good gods! 'tis like a rolling river,
That murm'ring flows, and flows for ever!
Ne'er tir'd, perpetual discord sowing!
Like fame, it gathers strength by going.”
'Heighday!' the flippant tongue replies,
'How solemn is the fool! how wise!
Is Nature's choicest gift debarr'd?
Nay, frown not; for I will be heardi
Women of late are finely ridden,
A Parrot's privilege forbidden!
You praise his talk, his squalling song,
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, hussey, drunkard, slattern, whore;
On all the sex she vents her fury,
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 spits, the monkey chatters round her;
The yelping cur her heels assaults;
The magpie blabs out all her faults;
Poll, in the uproar, from his cage,
With this rebuke out-scream'd her rage:
'A Parrot is for talking priz'd,
But prattling women are despis❜d.
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:
One slander must ten thousand get,
The world with int'rest pays the debt.'

FABLE XXVI.

The Cur and the Mastiff.

A SNEAKING Cur, the master's spy,
Rewarded for his daily lie,

With secret jealousies and fears
Set all together by the ears.
Poor Puss to-day was in disgrace,
Another cat supplied 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 strok'd his head,
And bought his secrecy with bread.
He next the Mastiff's honour tried,
Whose honest jaws the bribe defied,

He stretch'd his hand to proffer more;
The surly dog his fingers tore.

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 suit preferr'd,
And begg'd in justice to be heard.
The master sat. On either hand
The cited dogs confronting stand;
The Cur the bloody tale relates,
And, like a lawyer, aggravates.

'Judge not unheard,' the Mastiff cried,
'But weigh the cause on either side.
Think not that treach'ry can be just,
Take not informers' words on trust.
They ope their hand to ev'ry 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.

FABLE XXVII.

The Sick Man and the Angel.

Is there no hope?' the sick 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,

'I feel the chilling wound of death:

Since I must bid the world adieu,

Let me my former life review.

I grant, my bargains well were made,
But all men over-reach in trade;
'Tis self-defence in each profession:
Sure self-defence is no transgression.
The little portion in my hands,
By good security on lands,
Is well increas'd. If unawares,
My justice to myself and heirs,
Hath let my debtor rot in jail,
For want of good sufficient bail;

If I by writ, or bond, or deed,
Reduc'd a family to need,

My will hath made the world amends;
My hope on charity depends.

When I am numbered with the dead,
And all my pious gifts are read,

By heaven and earth 'twill then be known,
My charities were amply shewn.'

An Angel came. Ah, friend!' he cried,
'No more in flatt'ring hope confide :
Can thy good deeds in former times.
Outweigh the balance of thy crimes?
What widow or what orphan prays
To crown thy life with length of days?
A pious action's in thy pow'r,
Embrace with joy the happy hour.
Now, while you draw the vital air,
Prove your intention is sincere:

This instant give a hundred pound;

Your neighbours want, and you abound.”

'But why such haste?' the sick man whines;

'Who knows as yet what Heaven designs?

Perhaps I may recover still:

That sum and more are in my will.'

Fool!' says the Vision, now 'tis plain,
Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain :
From ev'ry side, with all your might,
You scrap'd, and scrap'd beyond your right;
And after death, would fain atone,

By giving what is not your own.’·

'While there is life, there's hope,' he cried; 'Then why such haste?” so groan'd, and died.

FABLE XXVIII.

The Persian, the Sun, and the Cloud.

Is there a bard whom genius fires,
Whose every thought the god inspires?
When Envy reads the nervous lines,
She frets, she rails, she raves, she pines;
Her hissing snakes with venom swell:
She calls her venal train from hell.

The servile fiends her nod obey,
And all Carl's authors are in pay.
Fame calls up Calumny and Spite,
Thus shadow owes its birth to light.
As prostrate to the God of day,
With heart devout, a Persian lay,
His invocation thus began:

'Parent of light! all-seeing Sun!
Prolific beam! whose rays dispense
The various gifts of Providence,
Accept our praise, our daily pray'r,
Smile on our fields, and bless the year."
A Cloud, who mock'd his grateful tongue,
The day with sudden darkness hung:
With pride and envy swell'd, aloud,
A voice thus thunder'd from the Cloud:
'Weak is this gaudy god of thine,
Whom I at will forbid to shine.

Shall I nor vows, nor incense know?
Where praise is due, the praise bestow.'
With fervent zeal the Persian mov'd,
Thus the proud calumny reprov'd:

'It was that god, who claims my pray'r
Who gave thee birth, and rais'd thee there;
When o'er his beams the veil is thrown,
Thy substance is but plainer shewn.
A passing gale, a puff of wind,
Dispels thy thickest troops combin'd.'
The gale arose; the vapour tost
(The sport of winds) in air was lost;
The glorious orb the day refines,
Thus envy breaks, thus merit shines.

FABLE XXIX.

The Fox at the point of death.

A Fox, in life's extreme decay,
Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay;
All appetite had left his maw,
And age disarm'd his numbling jaw.
His numerous race around him stand