A truce? replies the Wolf. Tis done.
The Dog the parley thus begun.
How can that ftrong intrepid mind.
Attack a weak defencelefs kind?
Those jaws fhould prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood.
Great fouls with generous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt..
How harmless is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy fpare.
Friend, fays the Wolf, the matter weigh;
Nature defign'd us beafts of prey;
As fuch, when hunger finds a treat,
'Tis neceffary Wolves fhould eat.
If mindful of the bleating weal,
Thy bofom burn with real zeal;
Hence, and thy tyrant lord befeech;
To him repeat the moving fpeech:
A Wolf eats fheep but now and then;
Ten thousands are devour'd by men.
An open foe may prove a curfe,
But a pretended friend is worfe.

The LION and the CUB.

A FABLE.

fond are men

[GAY.]

of rule and place,

HOW Who court it from the mean and bafe!

Thefe cannot bear an equal nigh,

But from fuperior merit fly.

They love the cellar's vulgar joke,

And lofe their hours in ale and smoke.

There o'er fome petty club prefide;

So poor, fo paltry is their pride!

Nay, ev'n with fools whole nights will fit,
In hopes to be fupreme in wit.

If thefe can read, to thefe I write,
To fet their worth in trueft light.

A Lion-cub, of fordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;
Fond of applaufe, he fought the feafts
Of vulgar and ignoble beafts;

B3

With

With affes all his time he fpent,
Their club's perpetual prefident.
He caught their manners, looks, and airs:
An afs in every thing, but ears!
If e'er his highnefs meant a joke,
They grinn'd applaufe before he fpoke;
But at each word what fhouts of praife!
Good gods! how natural he brays!.
Elate with flatt'ry and conceit,
He feeks his royal fire's retreat;
Forward, and fond to fhow his parts,
His Highness brays; the Lion ftarts.
Puppy, that curs'd vociferation
Betrays thy life and converfation:
Coxcombs, an ever-noify race,
Are trumpets of their own difgrace.
Why fo fevere? the Cub replies;
Our fenate always held me wife.

How weak is pride! returns the fire;
All fools are vain, when fools admire:
But know, what ftupid affes prize,
Lions and noble beafts defpife.

The BUTTERFLY and SNAIL.

A FABLE.

[GAY.]

LL upftarts, infolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.

As, in the funfhine of the morn,
A Butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rofe,
With pert conceit his bofom glows;
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he difplays; the fpangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.

His now forgotten friend, a Snail,
Beneath his houfe, with flimy trail.
Crawls o'er the grafs; whom when he 'fpies,
In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:

What means yon peafant's daily toil,
From choaking weeds to rid the foil?

Why

Why wake you to the morning's care?
Why with new arts correct the year?
Why grows the peach with crimson hue?
And why the plum's inviting blue?
Were they to feaft his tafte defign'd,
That vermin of voracious kind?
Crush then the flow, the pilf'ring race;
So purge thy garden from difgrace.
What arrogance! the Snail reply'd;
How infolent is upftart pride!
Had'ft thou not thus, with infult vain,
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the fcum of earth.
For scarce nine funs have wak'd the hours,
To fwell the fruit, and paint the flowers,
Since I thy humbler life furvey'd,
In bafe and fordid guife array'd,
A hideous infect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a flow and noisome train;
And from your fpider-bowels drew
Foul film, and fpun the dirty clue.
I own my humble life, good friend
Snail was I born, and Snail fhall end.
And what's a Butterfly? At beft,
He's but a caterpillar, dreft;
And all thy race (a numerous feed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed.

;

The PERSIAN, the SUN, and the CLOUD.

A FABLE. [GAY.]

S there a bard whom genius fires,
Whofe ev'ry thought the God infpires?
When envy reads the nervous lines,
She frets, the rails, the raves, fhe pines;
Her hiffing fnakes with venom fwell;
She calls her venal train from hell:
The fervile fiends her nod obey,
And all CURL's authors are in pay;
Fame calls up calumny and fpite:
Thus fhadow owes its birth to light.

As proftrate to the God of day, With heart devout, a Perfian lay, His invocation thus begun.

Parent of light, all-feeing Sun,
Prolific beam, whofe rays difpense
The various gifts of providence,
Accept our praife, our daily prayer,
Smile on our fields, and blefs the year.
A Cloud, who mock'd his grateful tongue,
The day with fudden darkness hung;
With pride and envy fwell'd, aloud
A voice thus thunder'd from the cloud.
Weak is this gawdy God of thine,
Whom I at will forbid to shine.
Shall I nor vows, nor incenfe know?
Where praise is due, the praife bestow.
With fervent zeal the Perfian mov'd,
Thus the proud calumny reprov'd.

It was that God, who claims my prayer,
Who gave thee birth, and rais'd thee there;
When o'er his beams the veil is thrown,
Thy fubftance is but plainer fhown.
A paffing gale, a puff of wind
Difpels thy thickeft troops combin'd:
The gale arofe; the vapour toft
(The fport of winds) in air was loft;
The glorious orb the day refines.
Thus envy breaks, thus merit fhines.

A Maftiff, of true English blood,
Lov'd fighting better than his food.
When dogs were fnarling for a bone,
He long'd to make the war his own,
And often found (when two contend)
To interpofe obtain'd his end;
He glory'd in his limping pace;
The fears of honour feam'd his face;

In ev'ry limb a gafh appears,

And frequent fights retrench'd his ears.
As on a time, he heard from far
Two dogs engag'd in noify war,
Away he fcours and lays about him,
Refolv'd no fray fhould be without him.
Forth from his yard a tanner flies,
And to the bold intruder cries,

A cudgel fhall correct your manners.
Whence fprung this curfed hate to tanners?
While on my dog you vent your fpite,
Sirrah! 'tis me, you dare to bite.

To fee the battle thus perplex'd
With equal rage a butcher vex'd,
Hoarfe-fcreaming from the circled croud,
To the curs'd Maftiff cries aloud.
Both Hockley-hole and Marybone
The combats of my dog have known.
He ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted,
Attacks in public, to be parted.

Think not, rafh fool, to fhare his fame;
Be his the honour or the fhame.

Thus faid, they fwore, and rav'd like thunder;
Then dragg'd their faften'd dogs afunder;
While clubs and kicks from ev'ry fide
Rebounded from the maftiff's hide.

All reeking now with sweat and blood,
A while the parted warriors ftood,
Then pour'd upon the meddling foe;
Who, worried, howl'd and fprawl'd below.
He rofe; and limping from the fray,

By both fides mangled, fneak'd away.

The TURKEY and the ANT..

A FABLE. [GAY.]

spy,

IN other men we faults ca dify their eye,

Each little fpeck and blemish find,
To our own ftronger errors blind.

B5

A Turkey,