Felt fome misgivings at his heart
In vent'ring on so new an art :
But yet at laft 'tween hope and fear
Himfelf he trufted to the air,

But far'd like him whom poets mention
With Dædalus's old invention:
Directly downwards on his head
He fell, and lay an hour for dead.
The various creatures in the place,
Had different thoughts upon the cafe ;
From fome his fate compaffion drew,"
But those I muft confefs were few;
The reft efteem'd him rightly ferv'd,
And in the manner he deferv'd,
For playing tricks beyond his sphere,
Nor thought the punishment severe.
They gather'd round him as he lay,
And jeer'd him when he limp'd away.
Pug difappointed thus and hurt,
And grown befides the public sport,
Found all his diff'rent paffions change
At once to fury and revenge:
The Daw 'twas ufelefs to purfue,
His helpless brood, as next in view,
With unrelenting paws he feiz'd,
One's neck he wrung, another fqueez'd,
Till of the number four or five,
No fingle bird was left alive.

Thus counsellors, in all regards
Tho' diff'rent, meet with like rewards:
The ftory fhews the certain fate

Of every mortal foon or late,

Whofe evil genius for his crimes

Connects with any fop that rhimes.

The YOUTH and the PHILOSOPHER.

A

A FABLE. [W. WHITEHEAD.]
Grecian youth, of talents rare,

Whom Plato's philofophic care
Had form'd for virtue's nobler view,
By precept and example too,

Would often boaft his matchlefs fkill,
To curb the fteed, and guide the wheel.

And

And as he pafs'd the gazing throng,
With graceful cafe, and fmack'd the thong,
The idiot wonder they exprefs'd

Was praife and tranfport to his breast.

At length quite vain, he needs would fhew
His mafter what his art could do;

And bade his flaves the chariot lead
To Academus' facred fhade.

The trembling grove confefs'd its fright,
The wood-nymphs ftarted at the fight;
The Mufes drop the learned lyre,
And to their inmoft fhades retire.
Howe'er the youth, with forward air,
Bows to the fage, and mounts the car,
The lafh refounds, the courfers fpring,
The chariot marks the rolling ring,
And gath'ring crowds with eager eyes,
And fhouts, purfue him as he flies.

Triumphant to the goal return'd,
With nobler thirft his bofom burn'd;
And now along th' indented plain,
The felf-fame track he marks again,
Purfues with care the nice defign,
Nor ever deviates from the line.
Amazement feiz'd the circling crowd
The youths with emulation glow'd;
Ev'n bearded fages hail'd the boy,
And all, but Plato, gaz'd with joy.
For he, deep judging fage, beheld
With pain the triumphs of the field:
And when the charioteer drew nigh,
And, flufh'd with hope, had caught his eye,
Alas! unhappy youth, he cry'd,

Expect no praife from me (and figh'd).
With indignation I furvey

Such fkill and judgment thrown away.
The time profufely fquander'd there,
On vulgar arts beneath thy care,
If well employ'd, at lefs expence,
Had taught thee honour, virtue, fenfe,
And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate
To govern men, and guide the ftate.

guide

Jad

The

The BEE, the ANT, and the SPARROW.

Addrefs'd to PHEBE and KITTY C. at Boarding-School.

Y dears, 'tis faid in days of old,

MY

That beafts could talk, and birds could fcold.

But now it feems the human race

Alone engrofs the fpeaker's place.

Yet lately, if report be true,

(And much the tale relates to you) 07 801 120 weil
There met a Sparrow, Ant, and Bee,
Which reafon'd and convers'd as we.
Who reads my page will doubtless grant
That Phe's the wife induftrious Ant.
And all with half an eye may fee

That Kitty is the bufy Bee.

bebreed

Here then are two-but where's the third?
Go fearch your fchool, you'll find the bird.
Your school! I afk your pardon fair,
I'm fure you'll find no fparrow there.
Now to my tale-One fummer's morn
A Bee rang'd' o'er the verdant lawn;
Studious to husband every hour,
And make the moft of every flow'r.
Nimble from ftalk to ftalk fhe flies,
And loads with yellow wax her thighs;
With which the artift builds her comb,
And keeps all tight and warm at home:
Or from the cowflip's golden bells.
Sucks honey to enrich her cells:
Or every tempting rofe purfues,
Or fips the lilly's fragrant dews;
Yet never robs the fhining bloom,
Or of its beauty or perfume.
Thus the difcharg'd in every way
The various duties of the day.

It chanc'd a frugal Ant was near,

Whose brow was wrinkled o'er by care;
A great economift was the,

Nor lefs laborious than the Bee;

By

By penfive parents often taught
What ills arife from want of thought;
That poverty on floth depends,
On poverty the lofs of friends.
Hence every day the Ant is found
With anxious fteps to tread the ground;
With curious fearch to trace the grain,
And drag the heavy load with pain.
The active Bee with pleafure faw
The Ant fulfill her parents' law.
Ah! fifter-labourer, fays the,
How very fortunate are we!
Who taught in infancy to know

The comforts, which from labour flow,
Are independent of the great,

Nor know the wants of pride and state.
Why is our food fo very fweet?ISTEN
Because we earn, before we eat.
Why are our wants fo very few?osab
Because we nature's calls purfue.
Whence our complacency of mind?
Because we act our parts affign'd.

Have we inceffant talks to do?otik on st 140

Is not all nature bufy too?

Doth not the fun, with conftant pace,.
Perfift to run his annual race?!

Do not the ftars, which thine fo bright,
Renew their courfes every night?

Doth not the ox. obedient bownbroly aid and
His patient neck, and draw the plough ?
Or when, did e'er the generous fteed
Withhold his labour or his fpeed ?
If you all nature's fyftem fcan,
The only idle thing is man,
A wanton Su

Jow ob 10

long'd to hear Add

Their fage difcourfe, and ftraight drew near.
The bird was talkative and loud, Tove dilw haim

And very pert and very proud

As worthlefs and as vain a

Perhaps as ever r wore a wing.

She found, as on a fpray the fat,

The little friends were deep in that,

That virtue was their favourite theme,

ogni v

And toil and probity their scheme le bon p.

C5

Such

Such talk was hateful to her breaft, para o rimas
She thought them arrant prudes at beft.
When to difplay her naughty mind, wovoq and
Hunger with cruelty combin'd,

She view'd the Ant with favage eyes,
And hopt and hopt to fnatch her prize.
The Bee, who watch'd her opening bill,
And guefs'd her fell defign to kill;
Ask'd her from what her anger rofe,
And why the treated Ants as foes?
The Sparrow her reply began,
And thus the converfation ran.
Whenever I'm difpos'd to dine,
I think the whole creation mine;
That I'm a bird of high degree,
And every infect made for me.
Hence oft I fearch the emmet brood,
For emmets are delicious food:
And oft in wantonnefs and play,
I flay ten thousand in a day.
For truth it is, without difguife,
That I love mifchief as my eyes.

Oh! fie, the honeft Bee reply'd,
I fear you make bafe man your guide;
Of every creature fure the worst,
Though in creation's fcale the firft!
Ungrateful man! 'tis ftrange he thrives,
Who burns the Bees to rob their hives!
I hate his vile administration,
And fo do all the emmet nation.
What fatal foes to birds are men,
Quite to the Eagle from the Wren!
O! do not men's example take,
Who mifchief do for mifchief's fake;
But fpare the Anther worth demands
Efteem and friendship at your hands.
A mind with every virtue bleft,
Muft raise compaffion in your breaft.
Virtue! rejoin'd the fneering bird,
Where did you learn that gothic word?
Since I was hatch'd, I never heard
That virtue was at all rever'd.
But fay it was the ancients' claim,
Yet moderns difavow the name;