Purfae it ftill; be neater feen;
'Tis always frugal to be clean;
So fhall you keep alive defire,
And Time's swift wing shall fan the fire.
In garret high (as stories say)
A Poet fung his tuneful lay;
So foft, so smooth his verse, you'd swear
Apollo and the Muses there;
Thro' all the town his praises rung,
His fonnets at the playhouse fung;
High waving o'er his lab'ring head,
The goddefs Want her pinions spread,
And with poetic fury fir'd
What Phoebus faintly had inspir'd.
A noble youth, of taste and wit,
Approv'd the sprightly things he writ,
And fought him in his cobweb dome,
Discharg'd his rent, and brought him home.
Behold him at the stately board;
Who, but the Poet, and my Lord!
Each day, deliciously he dines,
And greedy quaffs the gen'rous wines ;
His fides were plump, his skin was fleek;
And plenty wanton'd on his cheek ;
Astonish'd at the change so new,
Away th' infpiring goddess flew.
Now, dropt for politics, and news,
Neglected lay the drooping muse;
Unmindful whence his fortune came,
He ftifled the poetic flame;
Nor tale, nor fonnet, for my lady,
Lampoon, nor epigram, was ready.
With just contempt his patron faw,
(Refolv'd his bounty to withdraw)
And thus, with anger in his look,
The late-repenting fool befpoke.
Blind to the good that courts thee grown
Whence has the fun of favour fhone?
Delighted with thy tuneful art,
Efteem was growing in my heart;
But idly thou reject't the charm
That gave it birth, and kept it warm.
Unthinking fools alone despise
The arts that taught them first to rise.
THE WOLF, SHEEP, AND LAMB.
UTY demands, the parent's voice
Should fanctify the daughter's choice ;
In that, is due obedience fhewn;
To choose, belongs to her alone.
May horror feize his midnight hour, Who builds upon a parent's pow'r, And claims, by purchase vile and bafe, The loathing maid for his embrace;
Hence virtue fickens, and the breast,
Where Peace had built her downy neit,
Becomes the troubled feat of Care,
And pines with anguish and despair,
A Wolf, rapacious, rough, and bold,
Whose nightly plunders thinn'd the fold,
Contemplating his ill-spent life,
And, cloy'd with thefts, would take a wife.
His purpose known, the savage race,
In num’rous crouds, attend the place;
For why, a mighty Wolf he was,
And held dominion in his jaws,
Her fav'rite whelp each mother brought,
And, humbly, his alliance fought;
But cold by age, or else too nice,
None found acceptance in his eyes.
It happen'd, as, at early dawn,
He folitary cross’d the lawn,
Stray'd from the fold, a sportive lamb
Skipp'd wanton, by her fleecy dam;
When Cupid, foe to man and beast,
Discharg'd an arrow at his breast.
The tim'rous breed the robber knew,
And, trembling, o'er the meadow flew;
Their nimbleft speed the Wolf o'ertook,
And, courteous, thus the dam bespoke.
Stay, faireft, and suspend your fear;
Trust me, no enemy is near :
These jaws, in Naughter oft imbru’d,
At length, have known enough of blood';
N
And kinder bufinefs brings me now,
Vanquish'd, at beauty's foot to bow.
You have a daughter-Sweet, forgive
A Wolf's addrefs- -In her I live;
Love from her eyes like lightning came,
And fet my marrow all on flame;
Let your confent confirm my choice,
And ratify our nuptial joys.
Me ample wealth and pow'r attend,
Wide o'er the plains my realms extend;
What midnight robber dare invade
The fold, if I the guard am made?
At home the shepherd's cur may sleep,
While I fecure his mafter's fheep.
Difcourfe like this attention claim'd;
Grandeur the mother's breast inflam'd;
Now, fearless by his fide she walk'd,
Of fettlements and jointures talk'd ;
Propos'd, and doubled her demands
Of flow'ry fields, and turnep-lands,
The wolf agrees. Her bofom fwells;
To mifs her happy fate she tells;
And, of the grand alliance vain,
Contemns her kindred of the plain.
The loathing lamb with horror hears,
And wearies out her dam with pray'rs ;
But all in vain; mamma best knew
What unexperienced girls fhould do:
So, to the neighbouring meadow carry'd,
A formal afs the couple marry'd.
Torn from the tyrant mother's fide,
The trembler goes, a victim-bride,
Reluctant meets the rude embrace,
And bleats among the howling race.
With horror oft her eyes behold
Her murder'd kindred of the fold
Each day a fifter lamb is ferv'd,
And at the glutton's table carv'd;
The crashing bones he grinds for food,
And flakes his thirst with streaming blood,
Love, who the cruel mind detefts,
And lodges but in gentle breasts,
Was now no more. Enjoyment past,
The favage hunger'd for the feast;
But (as we find in human race,
A mask conceals the villain's face)
Justice must authorize the treat;
Till then he long'd, but durft not eat.
As forth he walk'd, in queft of prey,
The hunters met him on the way;
Fear wings his flight; the marfh he fought!
The fnuffing dogs are fet at fault.
His ftomach balk'd, now hunger knaws;
Howling, he grinds his empty jaws;
Food must be had-and lamb is nigh;
His maw invokes the fraudful lye.
Is this (diffembling rage) he cry'd,
The gentle virtue of a bride?
That, leagu'd with man's deftroying race,
She fets her husband for the chace?
N 2
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