THE SEA AND THE BANKS. As out at fea a ruffling gale it blew, Open to right and left! make way, And let us have one frifk at land; Or, 'zbud, we'll wash you into fand, Without the tedious form of long difputes." "Hold! foft and fair! the banks reply'd; we're bound, In honour, to make good our post: THE MORAL. Though difcord forms the elements for war, Their well-pois'd ftrength prevents the fatal jar: Harmonious nature fets the balance right, And each compels the other to unite. In empire thus true union is maintain'd, Each power's by a fubordinate restrain'd: But, when like raging waves they overflow Their ftated bounds, and on the weaker grow; Thrice happy realms where there are patriots found, To check invaders, and maintain their ground. FABLE X. THE NIGHTINGALE AND CUCKOW. TUNEFUL nightingale, whofe warbling throat Afterwards Earl of Oxford. | With every fweet harmonious note He charm'd the liftening throng: The hooting cuckow was difpleas'd alone, Condemn'd his manner, and extoll'd her own. "This fcreaming fop, quoth fhe, that scares All creatures with his din; When folks are listening to my airs, Ferfooth he's putting in. Here's fuch a chattering kept, and odious noife, My fong's quite spoil'd with his confounded voice." The injur'd fongfter modeftly reply'd; "Since you perform fo fine, The contest let fome judge decide, And try your skill with mine; Vanquish'd, I'll your fuperior genius own." The cuckow fhook her head, and cry'd 'twas done. A folemn plodding ass that graz'd the plain Was for an umpire chofe : The nightingale advanc'd his frain, And charm'd with every close. The cuckow's note was one unvary'd tone, Exceeding hoarfe, yet pleas'd, fhe roar'd it on. Appeal was made; the judge this sentence gave, "You, firrah, nightingale! Of mufic you fome fmatterings have, And may in time do well; But for fubftantial fong, I needs must say, THE MORAL. Mackworth *, who reads thy well-digefted lines, Yet happier he that has the answer wrote,, FABLE XI. THE SUN AND THE WIND. 1 THE fun and wind one day fell out And dar'd him to engage. Sir Humphry Mackworth, to whom Yalden addrefe an excellent poetical epiftle "On the mines late of Sir Carbery Price." Sir Humphry wrote fome political pamphlets about this time, With that the wind began to rife, The non-con. wrapp'd his cloak about, The ftorm being spent, with piercing rays, Which foon the zealot felt; More decently to melt. The fun then afk'd his blustering friend, And try fome other way: THE MORAL. Your Whigs difgrac'd, like bullies of the town, FABLE XII. THE BOAR AND FOREST. A LION, generous and brave, For wars renown'd, belov'd in peace; And treafures much impair'd by acts of grace. The boar, to show a fubject's love, The grant being pass'd, the ravenous boar, Up by the roots vast oaks he tore, This act of violence and wrong And vow'd the boar fhould dearly pay; "I hate, quoth he, a down-caft look, That robs the public in a friendly way. "Unhappy groves, my empires pride! Lov'd folitudes, ye fhades divine! The rage of tempests ye defy'd, The British oak's our nation's strength and pride, With which triumphant o'er the main we ride; Infulting foes are by our navies aw'd, A guard at home, our dreaded power abroad. FABLE XIII. THE FOX AND FLIES. As crafty Reynard strove to swim To gain the farther fide; Till fome kind ebb fhould fet him free, The waves had took away. A fwarm of half-ftarv'd haggard flies, By raging hunger led; A Hedge-hog faw his evil plight; Quoth he, "To how I'm civil, Since I fuch fatal wounds fuftain, THE MORAL; FROM NOSTRADAMUL "Le fang du Jufte à Londres fera faute Thus guilty Britain to her Thames complain "With royal blood defil'd, O cleanse my gain! Whence plagues arife! whence dire contagios come! And flames that my Augufta's pride confume !" "In vain, faith Thames; the Regicidal breed) Will fwarm again, by them thy land thall bleed: Extremeft curfe! but so juft Heaven decreed! THE BEAR AND MOUNTEBANK. THERE liv'd a quack in high repute, And celebrated bill; As for his knowledge, 'tis allow'd, And wondrous cures they wrought; That till they gap'd and bought. 'Midft his harangue, one day it chanc'd, Tom Dove the bear that way advanc'd, In proceffion to his stake; Who thus the chief befpake: "D'ye bear, ye pack of bawling louts, Compos'd of vermin, ftink, and clouts Why all this noife and do? Still I resemble you. So, brother monfters, face about, The quack your keeper, wants his rout; For, underneath the rofe, Another fort of brutes there are, Befides a ftupid Ruffian bear, THE MORAL. Il minifters, like quacks, the crowd deceive, Defraud them for their good; and they believe: At France and Rome they rail with specious arts, And, whilst they cheat the vulgar, gain their hearts. But if fagacious Bruin fmells them out, Their frauds expofing to the injur'd rout; To mifchief prone, implacable, and ftrong, FABLE XV. THE PEACOCK PROCLAIMED KING. A VULTURE, old and feeble grown, Took up and much reform'd his life; His beak decay'd, and talons gone, Yet ftill he relifh'd noise and strife. Once a young peacock to the birds brought forth On his high birth harangued, and blooming worth. "The ifles and watery realm, faid he, In giving empires we're too pert, What champion here conducts him to his throne. THE MORAL. Cæfar, that prince betrays his fears, Who ftyles thee monarch in the field, But, when thy army disappears, To weak pretenders will thy titles yield. But wifer politicians fay, True conduct is not fo much fhown, FABLE XVI. A LACONIC CONDEMNED. A SAGE laconic, truly wife, Train'd up in rigid schools; In high contempt of rules. Ten thousand tongues and hands revenge the The judges aggravate the crime, wrong. Tom Dove has been celebrated by Dryden and King, In words as few, and little time, As answer'd men compact. Quoth one," The being too verbose Of that pernicious kind! The punishment must reach your sense, "Read Jura Populi o'er twice, Read Baxter's volumes, Tindal's works, Yorkshire Petish with that of Bucks, True cant, and libel ftrain. For folid nonfenfe, thoughtless words, The vindication of the Lords, That anfwers "Mackworth's State:" Read first and fecond paragraph, The wretch with ftrong convulsions fhook, To heaven for mercy cry'd: Quoth he, "Send gibbets, racks, or wheel, Algiers and gallies please me well, Such torments I'll abide. "But damn me not for one offence, Vainly to wafte my breath · The thoughts are worfe than death.” |