Unlefs, my dear, you read romances,
I cannot reconcile your fancies.
Virtue in fairy tales is feen

To play the goddefs or the queen;
But what's a queen without the pow'r,
Or beauty, child, without a dow'r?
Yet this is all that virtue brags,
At beft 'tis only worth in rags.
Such whims my very heart derides,
Indeed you make me burft my fides.
Truft me, Mifs Bee-to fpeak the truth,
I've copied men from earliest youth;
The fame our tafte, the fame our school,
Paffion and appetite our rule.

And call me bird, or call me finner,
I'll ne'er forego my fport or dinner.
A prowling cat the mifcreant fpies,
And wide expands her amber eyes:
Near and more near Grimalkin draws,
She wags her tail, protends her paws:
Then fpringing on her thoughtless prey,
She bore the vicious bird away.

Thus in her cruelty and pride,
The wicked wanton Sparrow dy'd.

The BEARS and BEES.
A FABLE. [MERRICK.]

A Forth iffing from a neighbouring wood

S two young bears in wanton mood,

Came where th' induftrious Bees had ftor'd
In artful cells their luscious hoard;
O'erjoy'd they feiz'd with eager hafte
Luxurious on the rich repaft.

Alarm'd at this the little crew

About their ears vindictive flew.

The beafts unable to fuftain

Th' unequal combat, quit the plain;

Half blind with rage, and mad with pain, bra

Their native fhelter they regain;

There fit, and now difcreeter grown,
Too late their rafhnefs they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
C6

So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac'd before our longing eyes,
With greedy hafte we fnatch our fill,
And swallow down the latent ill;
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancy'd pleafure flies.
It flies, but oh! too late we find
It leaves a real fting behind.

The

CA M E L 1 0 N.

[MERRICK.]

FT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,,
With eyes, that hardly ferv'd at moft
To guard their mafter 'gainft a poft,
Yet round the world the blade has been
To see whatever could be feen,
Returning from his finifh'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before;
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travell'd fool your mouth will ftop,
Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
"I've feen-and fure I ought to know"-
So begs you'd pay a due fubmiffion,
And acquiefce in his decifion.

Two travellers of fuch a caft,

As o'er Arabia's wilds they past,

And on their way in friendly chat si dajo
Now talk'd of this and then of that,quod
Difcours'd a while 'mongst other matter,
Of the Camelion's form and nature.
"A ftranger animal, cries one,
"Sure never liv'd beneath the fun :
"A lizard's body lean and long,

A fifh's head, a ferpent's tongue,
"Its tooth with triple claw disjoin'd;
"And what a length of tail behind!
"How flow its pace! and then its hue-
"Who ever faw fo fine a blue ?”g ba
"Hold there, the other quick replies,
"Tis green,-I faw it with thefe eyes,

21

"As

As late with open mouth it lay, "And warm'd it in the funny ray; Stretch'd at its eafe the beaft I view'd, "And faw it eat the air for food." "I've feen it, Sir, as well as you, "And muft again affirm it blue. "At leifure the beaft furvey'd "Extended in the cooling fhade."

"Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I affure ye"Green! cries the other in a fury

"Why, Sir,-d'ye think I've loft my eyes ?" "Twere no great lofs, the friend replies, For, if they always ferve you thus, "You'll find 'em but of little ufe." So high at laft the conteft rofe, From words they almoft came to blows: When luckily came by a third-best To him the queftion they referr'd; And begg'd he'd tell 'em, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. "Sirs, cries the umpire, ceafe your pother"The creature's neither one nor t other.

"I caught the animal last night,

"And view'd it o'er by candle light:

T

I mark'd it well-'twas black as jet vid of T "You ftare-but Sirs, I've got it yet, "And can produce it." "Pray, Sir, do: "I'll lay my life, the thing is blue." "And I'll be fworn, that when you've feen "The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." "Well then, at once, to eafe the doubt, "Replies the man, I'll turn him out: "And when before your eyes I've fet him, "If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He faid; then full before their fight Produc'd the beaft, and lo!-'twas white. Both ftar'd, the man look'd wond'rous wife"My children," the Camelfon cries,

(Then firft the

e creatud all are wrong
found a tongue) dh

You all are right,
"When next you talk of what you view,

"Think others fee, as well as you:
"Nor wonder, if you find that none

Prefers your eye fight to his own."

The

WE

Worough
Hoe'er with curious eye has rang'd
Through Ovid's tales, has feen
How Jove, incens'd, to monkies chang'd
A tribe of worthless men.

Repentant foon th' offending race
Intreat the injur'd pow'r,

To give them back the human face,
And reafon's aid restore.

Jove, footh'd at length, his ear inclin'd,
And granted half their pray'r;
But t'other half he bade the wind
Disperse in empty air.

Scarce had the thund'rer giv'n the nod
That fhook the vaulted skies,
With haughtier air the creatures ftrode,
And ftretch'd their dwindled fize.

The hair in curls luxuriant now
Around their temples fpread;
The tail that whilom hung below,
Now dangled from the head.

The head remains unchang'd within,

Nor alter'd much the face;

It ftill retains its native grin,
And all its old grimace.

Thus half transform'd and half the fame,
Jove bade them take their place,d
(Reftoring them their ancient claim).
Among the human race.

Man with contempt the brute furvey'd,
Nor would a name bestow;

But woman lik'd the motley breed,
And call'd the thing a beau.

M

The

T

The

GOLDFINCHES.

An ELEGY. [JAGO.]

Ingenuas didiciffe fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nec finit effe feros.

O you, whofe groves protect the feather'd quires,
Who lend their artlefs notes a willing ear,
To you, whom pity moves, and tafte infpires,
The Doric ftrain belongs; O Shenftone, hear.
'Twas gentle fpring, when all the tuneful race,

By nature taught, in nuptial leagues combine: A Goldfinch joy'd to meet the warm embrace,

And hearts and fortunes with her mate to join. Through nature's fpacious walks at large they rang'd, No fettled haunts, no fix'd abode their aim; As chance or fancy led, their path they chang'd, Themselves in ev'ry vary'd fcene the fame.

"Till on a day to weighty cares refign'd,

With mutual choice, alternate, they agreed
On rambling thoughts no more to turn their mind,
But fettle foberly, and raise a breed.

All in a garden, on a currant bufh,

With wond'rous art they built their waving feat: In the next orchat liv'd a friendly thrush,

Nor diftant far, a woodlark's foft retreat.

Here bleft with eafe, and in each other bleft,

With early fongs they wak'd the fprightly groves, 'Till time matur'd their blifs, and crown'd their neft With infant pledges of their faithful loves.

And now what tranfport glow'd in either's eye!
What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food!

What joy each others likenefs to defcry,
And future fonnets in the chirping brood!

But ah! what earthly happiness can laft?
How does the faireft purpose often fail?
A truant School-boy's wantonnefs could blaft
Their rifing hopes, and leave them both to wail,

The