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FABLE XII.

INI COLT AND THE FARMER.

TE

His passion cool, his pride forgot,
A Farmer's welcome yard he sought.

The Master saw his woeful plight,
His limbs, that totter'd with his weights
And, friendly, to the Itable led,
And saw him litter'd, dress’d, and fed.
In Nothful ease; all night he lay ;
The servants rofe at break of day ; -
The market calls. Along the road,
His back must bear the pond'rous load
In vain he struggles, or complains,
Incessant blows reward his pains.
To-morrow varies but his toil ;
Chain'd to the plough, he breaks the soil
While scanty meals, at night repay
The painful labours of the day.

Subdu'd by toil; with anguish rent, His self-upbraidings found a vent. Wretch that I am! he fighing said, By arrogance and folly led, Had but my restive youth been brought To learn the lesson nature taught, Then had I, like my fires of yore, The prize from every courser bore; While man bestow'd rewards, and praise; And females crown'd my latter days. Now lasting servitude's my lot, My birth contemn'd, my speed forgot, Doom'd am I, for my pride, to bear A living death, from year to year.

ELL me, Corinna, if you can,

Why so averse, so coy to man?
Did nature, lavish of her care,
From her best pattern form you fair,
That you, ungrateful to her cause,
Should mock her gifts, and (purn her laws?
And mifer-like, with-hold that store,
Which, by imparting, blesses more?

Beauty's a gift, by heav'n afsign'd,
The portion of the female kind;
For this the yielding maid demands
Protection at her lover's hands;
And though by wasting years it fade,
Remembrance tells him, once 'twas paid,

And will you then this wealth conceal
For age to ruft, or time to steal ?
The summer of your youth to rovej
A stranger to the joys of love ?
Then, when life's winter hastens on;
And youth's fair heritage is gone,
Dow'rless to court some peasant's arms,
To guard your wither'd age from harms;
No gratitude to warm his breast,
For blooming beauty, once possess'd;
How will you curse that stubborn pride;
Which drove your bark across the tide,
And sailing before folly's wind,
Left sense and happiness behind ?

Corinna; left these whims prevail,
To such as you, I write my tale.

A COLT, for blood, and mettled speed,
The choicest of the running breed,
Of youthful strength, and beauty vain,
Refus'd subjection to the rein..
In vain the groom's officious skill
Oppos’d his pride; and check'd his will;
In vain the master's forming care
Restrain'd with threats, or footh'd with pray'r;
Of freedom proud, and (corning man,
Wild o'er the spacious plains he ran.

Where-e'er luxuriant nature spread
Her flow'ry carpet o'er the mead,
Or bubbling streams soft-gliding pass, .
To cool and freshen up the grass,
Disdaining bounds, he cropp'd the blade,
And wanton'd in the spoil he made.

In plenty thus the summer pafs’d,
Revolving winter came at last;
The trees no more a shelter yield,
The verdure withers from the field,
Perpetual (nows invest the ground,
In icy chains the streams are bound;
Cold, nipping winds, and rattling hail,
His lank, unihelter'd fides affail.

As round he cast his rueful eyes,
He saw the thatch'd-roof cottage rise ;
The prospect touch'd his heart with cheer,
And promis'd kind deliv'rance near.
A stable, erft his scorn and hate,
Was now become his wih'd retreat ;

VOL. VIL

É ABLE XIII.

THẾ OWL; AND THÉ NIGHTINGALE,

TO

O know the mistress' humour right,

See if her maids are clean, and tight ;
If Betty waits without her stays,
She copies but her lady's ways:
When miss comes in with boist'rous shout,
And drops no curtsy going out,
Depend upon 't, mamma is one,
Who reads, or drinks too much alone,

If bottled beer her thirst a Twage,
She feels enthusiastic rage;
And burns with ardour to inherit
The gifts; and workings of the fpirit.
If learning crack her giddy brains,
No remedy, but death, remains.
Sum up the various ills of life,
And all are sweet, to such a wife.
At home; superior wit lhe vaunts,
And twits her husband with his wants ;
Her ragged offspring all around,
Like pigs, are wallowing on the ground :
Impatient ever of controul,
She knows no order, but of soul 3
With books her litter'd floor is spread,
Of nameless authors, never read ;
Foul linen, petticoats, and lace
Fill up the intermediate space.

D

FABLE XIV. THE SPARROW, AND THE DOVE.

I

'T was, as learn'd traditions say,

Abroad, at viftings, her tongue
Is never till and always wrong ;
All meanings the defines away,
And stands, with truth and sense, at bay.

If e'er the meets a gentle heait,
Skill'd in the housewife's useful art,
Who makes her family her care,
And builds contentment's temple there,
She starts at such mistakes in nature,
And cries, Lord help us! what a creature !

Melissa, if the moral strike, You'll find the fable not unlike,

AN Owl, putt'd up with felf-conceit, Lov'd learning better than his

meat ;
Old manuscripts he treasur'd up,
And rummag'd every grocer's hop;
At pastry-cooks was known to ply,
And strip, for science, every pye.
For modern poetry and wit,
He had read all that Blackmore writ;
So intimate with Curl was grown,
His learned treasures were his own ;
'To all his authors had access,
And sometimes would correct the press.
In logic he acquir'd such knowledge,
You'd swear him fellow of a college ;
Alike to every art, and science,
His daring genius bid defiance,
And swallow'd wisdom, with that haste,
That cits do custards at a feast.

Within the thelter of a wood,
One ev’ning, as he musing stood,
Hard by, upon a leafy spray,
A Nightingale began his lay.
Sudden he starts, with anger stung,
And, screeching, interrupts the fong.

Pert, busy thing, thy airs give o'er,
And let my contemplations foar.
What is the music of thy voice,
But jarring diffonance, and noise ?
Be wife. True harmony, thou'lt find,
Not in the throat, but in the mind;
By empty chirping not attain'd,
But by laborious ftudy gain'd.
Go read the authors Pope explodes,
Fathom the depth of Cibber's odes,
With modem plays improve thy wit,
Read all the learning Henley writ;
And, if thou needs must fing, fing then,
And emulate the ways of men;
So shalt thou grow, like me, refin'd,
And bring improvement to thy kind.

Thou wretch, the little Warbler cry'd,
Made up of ignorance, and pride,
Alk all the birds, and they'll declare,
A greater blockhead wings not air.
Read o'er thyself, thy talents scan,
Science was only meant for man.
No useless authors me moleft,
I mind the duties of my neft;
With careful wing protect my young,
And chear their ev’nings with a soug.

Thus, following nature, and her law's,
From men, and birds I claim applause;
While, nurs'd in pedantry, and noth,
An Owl is forn'd alike by both.

When pleasure, ever on the wing,
Return'd, companion of the spring,
And cheer'd the birds with am'rous heat
Instructing little hearts to beat;
A Sparrow, frolic, gay, and young,
Of bold address, and flippant tongue,
Just left his lady of a night,
Like him, to follow new delight.

The youth, of many a conquest vain,
Flew off to seek the chirping train ;
The chirping train he quickly found,
And with a faucy ease, bow'd round.

For every the his bosom burns,
And this, and that he wooes by turns ;
And here a figh, and there a bill,
And here those eyes, fo form'd to kill !
And now, with ready tongue, he strings
Unmeaning, soft, resistless things ;
With vows, and dem-me's skill'd to woo,
As other pretty fellows do.
Not that he thought this short essay
A prologue needful to his play;
No, trust me, says our learned letter,
He knew the virtuous fex much better ;
But these he held as specious arts,
To Thew his own superior parts,
The form of decency to shield,
And give a just pretence to yield.

Thus finishing his courtly play,
He mark'd the fav'rite of the day;
With careless impudence drew near,
And whisper'd Hebrew in her ear ;
A hint, which like the mason's fign,
The conscious can alone divine.

The flutt'ring nymph, expert at feigning,
Cry'd, Sir !--pray Sir, explain your meaning
Go prate to those, that may endure ye
To me this rudeness !—I'll assure ye !-
Then off the glided, like a swallow,
As saying--you guess where to follow.

To such as know the party set,
'Tis needless to declare they met;
The parson's barn, as authors mention,
Confess'd the fair had apprehension.
Her honour there secure from stain,
She held all farther trifling vain,
No more affected to be coy,
But ruih'd, licentious, on the joy.

Hift, love! the male companion cry'do
Retire a while ; I fear we're spy'd.
Nor was the caution vain ; he saw
A Turtle, ruftling in the straw,
While o'er her callow brood the hung,
And fondly thus address'd her young.

Ye tender objects of my care !
Peace, peace, ye little helpless pais!
Aron he comes, your gentle fire,
And brings you all your hearts require.
For us, his infants, and his bride,
For us with only love to guide,

3

Our lord affumes an eagle's speed,
And like a lion, dares to bleed.
Nor yet by wintry skies confin'd, '
He mounts upon the rudeft wind,
From danger tears the vital spoil,
And with affection sweetens toil.
Ah cease, too vent'rous ! cease to dare,
In thine, our dearer safety spare !
From him, ye cruel falcons, stray,
And turn, ye fowlers, far away!

Should I survive to see the day,
That tears me from myself away,
That cancels all that heav'n could give,
The life, by which alone I live,
Alas, how more than loft were I,
Who, in the thought, already die !

Ye pow'rs, whom men, and birds obey,
Great rulers of your creatures, say,
Why mourning comes, by bliss convey'd,
And ev’n the sweets of love allay'd ?
Where grows enjoyment, tall, and fair,
Around it twines entangling care ;
While fear for what our souls possess,
Enervates every pow'r to bless;
Yet friendship forms the bliss above,
And, life! what art thou, without love?

Our hero, who had heard apart,
Felt something moving in his heart,
But quickly, with disdain, suppressed
The virtue, rising in his breast;
And first he feign’d to laugh aloud,
And next, approaching, smild and bow'da

Madam, you must not think me rude; Good-manners never can intrude; I vow I come through pure good-nature(Upon my soul a charming creature !) Are these the comforts of a wife ? This careful, cloister'd, mopeing life? No doubt, that odious thing call'd duty, Is a sweet proyince for a beauty. Thou pretty ignorance ! thy will Is measur'd to thy want of skill; That good old-fashion'd dame, thy mother, Has taught thy infant years no other. The greatest ill in the creation, Is sure the want of education.

But think ye?-tell me without feigning, Have all these charms no farther meaning ? Dame nature, if you don't forget her, Might teach your ladyship much better. For shame, reject this mean employment, Enter the world, and taste enjoyment; Where time by circling bliss we measure ; Beauty was form'd alone for pleasure : Come, prove the blessing, follow me, Be wise, be happy, and be free.

Kind Sir, reply'd our matron chaste,
Your zeal seems pretty much in halbe ;
I own, the fondness to be bless'd
Is a deep thirst in every breast;
Of blessings too I have my store,
Yet quarrel not, hould heav'n give more ;
Then prove the change to be expedient,
And think me, Sir, your molt obedient.

Here turning, as to one inferior,
Our gallant spoke, and smild superior,
Methinks to quit your boasted ftation
Requires a world of helication ;

Where brars, and bonds are held a blessing,
The case, I doubt, is past redressing.
Why, child, suppose the joys I mention,
Were the mere fruits of my invention,
You've cause sufficient for your carriage,
In flying from the curse of marriage ;
'That sly decoy, with vary'd snares,
That takes your widgeon in by pairs ;
Alike to husband, and to wife,
The cure of love, and bane of life ;
The only method of forecasting,
To make misfortune firm, and lasting ;
The fin, by heav'n's peculiar sentence,
Unpardon'd through a life's repentance.
It is the double snake, that weds
A common tail to diff'rent heads,
That lead the carcass still astray,
By dragging each a diff'rent way,
Of all the ills, that may attend me,
From marriage, mighty gods, defend me!

Give Me frank nature's wild demesne,
And boundless tract of air serene,
Where fancy, ever wing'd for change,
Delights to sport, delights to range ;
There, Liberty! to thee is owing
Whate'er of bliss is worth bestowing;
Delights, still vary'd, and divine,
Sweet goddess of the hills ! are thine.

What say you now, you pretty pink you ?
Have I, for once, spoke reason, think you ?
You take me now for no romance
Come, never study for an answer;
Away, cast every care behind ye,
And fly where joy alone thall find ye.

Soft yet, return'd our female fencer,
A question more, or som and then, Sir.
You've rally'd me with sense exceeding,
With much fine wit, and better breeding ;
But pray, Sir, how do you contrive it?
Do those of your world never wive it?
“ No, no." How then ? “ Why, dare I tell,
“ What does the business full as well."
Do you ne'er love? “ An hour at leisure.”
Have you no friendships ? “ Yes, for pleasure."
No care for little ones?

". We get 'em,
6. The rest the mothers mind, and let 'em."

Thou wretch, rejoin'd the kindling Dove,
Quite loft to life, as lost to love!
Whene'er misfortune comes, how just!
And come misfortune surely must;
In the dread season of dismay,
In that, your hour of trial, say,
Who then Aall prop your sinking heart ?
Who bear affliction's weightier part ?

Say, when the black-brow'd welkin bends,
And winter's gloomy form impends,
To mourning turns all transient cheer,
And blasts the melancholy year;
For times, , at no persualion, stay,
Nor vice can find perpetual May;
Then where's that tongue, by folly fed,
That soul of pertness, whither fied ?
All írunk within thy lonely neft,
Forlorn, abandon'd, and unbless'd ;
No friend, by cordial bonds ally'd,
Shall seek thy cold, unfucial fide;
No chirping prattlers, to delight
Shall turn the long-enduring night;

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No bride her words of balm impart,
And warm thee at her constant heart.

Freedom, restrain!d by reason's force,
Is as the sun's unvarying course,
Benignly active, sweetly bright,
Affording warmth, affording light;
But torn from virtue's sacred rules,
Becomes a comet, gaz!d by fools,
Fore-bading cares, and storms, and strife,
And fraught with all the plagues of life.

Thou fool ! by union every creature
Subsists, through universal nature ;
And this, to beings void of mind,
Is wedlock, of a meaner kind.

While womb'd in space, primæval clay
A yet unfashion'd embryo lay,
The source of endless good above
Shot down his spark of kindling love ;
Touch'd by the all-enliv'ning fame,
Then motion first exulting came;
Each atom fought its sep'rate class,
Through many a fair enamour'd mass;
Love cast the central charm around,
And with eternal nuptials bound.
Then form, and order o'er the sky,
First traind their bridal pomp on high ;
The sun display'd his orb to light,
And burnt with hymeneal light.

Hence nature's virgin-womb conceiv'd, And with the genial burden heav'd; Forth came the oak, her first-born heir, And scal'd the breathing steep of air ; Then infant stems, of various use, Imbib'd her coft, maternal juice ; The flow'rs, in early bloom disclos’d, Upon her fragrant breast repos'd; Within her warm embraces grew A race of endless form, and hue ; Then pour'd her, lesser offspring round, And fondly cloath'd their parent ground,

Nor here alone the virtue reign'd, By matter's cumb'ring form detain'd; But thence, subliming, and refin'd, Afpir'd, and reach'd its kindred Mind, Caught in the fond, celestial fire,

The Mind perceiv'd unknown desire, And now with kind effusion flow'd, And now with cordial ardours glow'd, Beheld the sympathetic fair, And lov’d its own resemblance there ; On all with circling radiance shone, But cent'ring, fix'd on one alone; There clasp?d the heav'n-appointed wife, And doubled every joy of life.

Here ever blessing, ever bless'd, Resides this beauty of the breast; As from his palace, here the god Still beams effulgent bliss abroad, Here gems his own eternal round, The ring, by which the world is bound, Here bids his seat of empire grow, And builds his little heav'n below.

The bridal partners thus ally'd, And thus in sweet accordance ty'd, One body, heart and spirit live, Enrich'd by every joy they give ; Like echo, from her vocal hold, Return'd in music twenty fold.

Their union firm, and undecay'd,
Nor time can shake, nor pow'r invade ;
But as the stem, and scion stand,
Ingrafted by a skilful hand,
They check the tempeft's wintry rage,
And bloom and strengthen into age.
A thousand amițies unknown,
And pow'rs, perceiv'd by love alone,
Endearing looks, and chaste defire,
Fan, and support the mutual fire,
Whose fame, perpetual, as refind,
Is fed by an immortal mind.

Nor yet the nuptial fanction ends,
Like Nile opens, and descends,
Which, by apparent windings led,
We trace to its celestial head.
The fire, first springing from above,
Becomes the source of life, and love,
And gives his filial heir to flow,
In fondness down on fons below :
Thus roll'd in one continu'd tide,
To time's extremeft verge they glide,
While kindred streams, on either hand,
Branch forth in blessings o'er the land.

Thee, wretch! no lifping babe shall name,
No late-returning brother claim,
No kinsmap on thy road rejoice,
No fister greet thy ent’ring voice,
With partial eyes no parents see,
And bless their years restor'd in thee.

In age rejected, or declin'd,
An alien, e'en among thy kind,
The partner of thy scorn'd embrace
Shall play the wanton in thy face,
Each spark unplume thy little pride,
All friendship Ay thy faithless fide,
Thy name shall like thy carcase rot,
In fickness spurn'd, in death forgot.

All-giving pow'r! great source of life!
O hear the parent ! hear the wife !
That life, thou leadeft from above,
Though little, make it large in love,
O bid my feeling heart expand
To every claim, on every hand ;
To those, from whom my days I drew,
To these, in whom those days renew ;
To all my kin, however wide,
In cordial warmth, as blood ally'd;
To friends, with steely fetters twin'de
And to the cruel, not unkind !

But chief, the lord of my desire,
My life, myself, my soul, my fire,
Friends, children, all that wish can claim,
Chaste passion clasp, and rapture name;
O spare him, spare him, gracious pow'r !
o give him to my latest hour !
Let me my length of life employ,
To give my sole enjoyment joy.
His love, let mutual love excite,
Turn all my cares to his delight,
And every needless blessing spare,
Wherein my darling wants a share.

When he with graceful action wooes,
And tweetly bills, and fondly cooes,
Ah! deck me, to his eyes alone,
With charms attractive as his own,
And in my circling wings caress'd,
Give all the lover to my breast.

Then in our chaste, connubial bed,
My bosom pillow'd for his head,
His eyes with blissful Numbers close,
And watch, with me, my lord's repore,
Your peace around his temples tyine,
And love him with a love like mine.

And, for' I know his gen'rous flame,
Beyond what'er my sex can claim,
Me too to your protection take,
And spare me for my husband's sake.
Let one unruffled, calm delight
The loving and belov'd unite;
One pure desire our bofoms warm,
One will direct, one with inform;
Through life, one mutual aid sustain,
In death, one peaceful grave contain.

While, swelling with the darling theme,
Her accents pour'd an endless stream,
The well-known wings a sound impart,
That reach'd her ear, and touch'd her heart !
Quick dropp?d the music of her tongue,
And forth, with eager joy the sprung.
As swift her entiring confort few,
And plum'd, and kindled at the view;
Their wings their souls embracing meet,
Their hearts with answiring measure beat;
Half lost in sacred sweets, and bless'd
With raptures felt, but ne'er express'd,

Strait to her humble roof she led
The partner of her spotless bed;
Her young, a Autt'ring pair, arise,
Their welcome sparkling in their eyes;
Transported, to their fire they bound,
And hang with speechless action round,
In pleasure wrapt, the parents stand,
And see their little wings expand ;
The fire, his life-sustaining prize
To each expecting bill applies,
There fondly pours the wheaten spoil,
With transport giv!n, though won with toil;
While, all collected at the sight,
And filent through supreme delight,
The fair high heav!n of bliss beguiles,
And on her lord, and infant smiles.

The Sparrow, whose attention hung
Upon the Dove's enchanting tongue,
of all his little nights disarm’d,
And from himself, by virtue, 'charm’d,
When now he law, what only seem'd
A fact, so late a fable deemid,
His soul to envy he resign'd,
His hours of folly to the wind,
In secret with'd a turtle too,
And fighing to himself, withdrew.

Which, tainted, not the quick’ning gales
That sweep Sabæa's spicy vales,
Nor all the healing sweets restore,
That breathe along Arabia's More.

The trav'ler, if he chance to stray,
May turn uncensur'd to his way;
Polluted streams again are pure,
And deepest wounds admit a cure ;
But woman! no redemption knows,
The wounds of honour never close.
Though distant every hand to guide,
Nor skillid on life's tempestuous tide,
If once her feeble bark recede,
Or deviate from the course decreed,
In vain the seeks the friendless Thore,
Her swifter folly Ries before ;
The circling ports against her close,
And fut the wand'rer from repose ;
?Till, by conflicting waves oppress’d,
Her found'ring pinnace finks to rest.

Are there no off’rings to atone
For but a fingle error ? None.
Though woman is avow'd, of old,
No daughter of celestial mould,
Her temp'ring not without allay,
And form'd but of the finer clay,
We challenge from the mortal dame
The strength angelic natures claim;
Nay more; for sacred stories tell,
That ev'n immortal angels fell.

Whatever fills the teeming sphere
Of humid earth, and ambient air,
With varying elements endu'd,
Was form'd to fall, and rise renewid.

The stars no fix'd duration know,
Wide oceans ebb, again to flow,
The moon repletes her waneing face;
All-beauteous, from her late disgrace,
And suns, that mourn approaching night,
Refulgent rise with new-born light.

In vain may death, and time subdue,
While nature mints her race anew,
And holds some vital spark apart,
Like virtue, hid in every heart;
'Tis hence reviving warmth is seen,
To cloath a naked world in green.
No longer barr’d by winter's cold,
Again the gates of life unfold;
Again each insect tries his wing,
And lifts fresh pinions on the spring ;
Again from every latent root
The bladed stem, and tendril shoot,
Exhaling incense to the skies,
Again to perish, and to rise.

And must weak woman then disown
The change, to which a world is prone ?
In one meridian brightness shine,
And ne'er, like ev’ning funs, decline?
Resolv'd and firm alone?-Is this
What we demand of woman ?-Yes.

But should the spark of vestal fire
In some unguarded hour expire,
Or should the nightly thief invade
Hesperia's chaste, and sacred Made,
Of all the blooming spoil potless'd,
The dragon honour charm'd to rest,
Shall virtue's flame ro more return?
No inore with virgin fplendor burn?

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