Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous gueft by night.
Let those remember, that fhe cannot die
'Till rolling time is loft in round eternity;
Nor need the fear the Panther, tho untam'd,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaim'd:
The wary favage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry fons in frequent fenate met,
Mean-while the quench'd her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten fallad cool'd her blood.
Their commons, tho but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature ftrove
T'exprefs her plain fimplicity of love,
Did all the honors of her house fo well,

No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal.
She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers paft, a fadly-pleasing theme;
Remembring every ftorm which tofs'd the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own childrens

fate.

Nor fail'd fhe then a full review to make

Of what the Panther fuffer'd for her fake:

Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Herfaith unfhaken to an exil'd heir,

Her strength to endure, her courage to defy;
Her choice of honorable infamy.

On these, prolixly thankful, fhe enlarg'd;
Then with acknowledgment herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,

Is made more facred by adverfity.

Now should they part, malicious tongues would fay,

They met like chance companions on the way, Whom mutual fear of robbers had poffefs'd; While danger lafted, kindness was profefs'd; But that once o'er the fhort-liv'd union ends : The road divides, and there divide the friends.

The Panther nodded when her fpeech was done, And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone : But faid her gratitude had gone too far For common offices of christian care. If to the lawful heir she had been true, She paid but Cæfar what was Cæfar's due. I might, she added, with like praise describe Your fuffering fons, and fo return your bribe: But incenfe from my hands is poorly priz'd; For gifts are fcorn'd where givers are despis'd.

I ferv'd a turn, and then was caft away;
You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display,
And fip the sweets, and bafk in your great
patron's day.

This heard, the matron was not flow to find What fort of malady had feiz'd her mind: Difdain, with gnawing envy, fell defpight, And canker'd malice ftood in open fight: Ambition, intereft, pride without controul, And jealoufy, the jaundice of the foul; Revenge, the bloody minifter of ill,

With all the lean tormentors of the will.
"Twas eafy now to guess from whence arofe
Her new-made union with her ancient foes,
Her forc'd civilities, her faint embrace,
Affected kindness with an alter'd face:
Yet durft she not too deeply probe the wound,
As hoping still the nobler parts were found:
But ftrove with anodynes to affwage the smart,
And mildly thus her med'cine did impart.
Complaints of lovers help to eafe their pain;
It fhows a reft of kindness to complain;
A friendship loth to quit its former hold
And confcious merit may be justly bold.
But much more juft your jealoufy would fhew,
If other's good were injury to you:

Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to see
Rewarded worth and rifing loyalty.

Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown,
The fcarlet honor of your peaceful gown,
Are the most pleasing objects I can find,
Charms to my fight, and cordials to my mind:
When virtue fpooms before a profperous gale,
My heaving wishes help to fill the fail;
And if my prayers for all the brave were heard,
Cæfar fhould ftill have fuch, and fuch should still
reward.

The labor'd earth your pains have fow'd and

till'd;

'Tis juft you reap the product of the field:
Your's be the harveft, 'tis the beggar's gain
To glean the fallings of the loaded wain.
Such scatter'd ears as are not worth your care,
Your charity for alms may fafely fpare,
For alms are but the vehicles of

prayer.
My daily bread is literally implor'd;
I have no barns nor granaries to hoard.
If Cæfar to his own his hand extends,
Say which of yours his charity offends:

You know he largely gives to more than are his friends.

Are

you
defrauded when he feeds the poor?
Our mite decreases nothing of your store.

I am but few, and by your fare you fee
My crying fins are not of luxury.

some jufter motive fure

your mind withdraws, And makes you break our friendship's holy laws; For barefac'd envy is too base a cause.

Shew more occafion for your discontent; Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent : Some German quarrel, or, as times go now, Some French, where force is uppermost, will do. When at the fountain's head, as merit ought To claim the place, you take a swilling draught, How eafy 'tis an envious eye to throw, And tax the sheep for troubling streams below; Or call her (when no farther cause you find) An enemy profefs'd of all your kind.

But then, perhaps, the wicked world woul'd think, The Wolf defign'd to eat as well as drink.

This last allufion gall'd the Panther more, Because indeed it rubb'd upon the fore.

Yet feem'd fhe not to winch, tho fhrewdly pain'd: But thus her paffive character maintain’d.

report,

I never grudg'd, whate'er my foes
Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court.