THE SEA AND THE BANKS.

As out at fea a ruffling gale it blew,
And clouds o'ercaft the gloomy kies:
The furges they began to rife,
And terrify the failors, jocund crew.
This to the wanton billows was but sport,
They roar'd and gambol'd it along,
This was the burden of their fong,
They'd have a storm, and fhow good reafon for':.
Then a fresh maggot takes them in the head,
To have one merry jaunt on fhore:
They'd not be fetter'd up, they fwore,
But thus to the infulted margin said:
"Hey, flugs! d'ye hear, ye lazy hounds!

Open to right and left! make way,
And give free paage to the fea,
Down with your ramparts and obftructing mounds.
"See how they ftir! awake, ye brutes!

And let us have one frifk at land; Or, 'zbud, we'll wash you into fand, Without the tedious form of long difputes." "Hold! foft and fair! the banks reply'd; we're bound,

In honour, to make good our post:
And will, for ail your windy boast,
As barriers to the fea, maintain our ground.
Go, lord it in your watery realms, the main!
There rage and bluster as you please,
Licentious in your native feas,
But not an inch as trefpaffers you'll gain.
So, my fierce mutineers, be jogging home!
For if you dare invade our coaft,
You'll run your heads against a post,
And fhamefully retire in empty foam."

THE MORAL.

Though difcord forms the elements for war, Their well-pois'd ftrength prevents the fatal jar: Harmonious nature fets the balance right, And each compels the other to unite.

In empire thus true union is maintain'd, Each power's by a fubordinate restrain'd: But, when like raging waves they overflow Their ftated bounds, and on the weaker grow; Thrice happy realms where there are patriots found,

To check invaders, and maintain their ground.

FABLE X.

THE NIGHTINGALE AND CUCKOW.

TUNEFUL nightingale, whofe warbling throat
Was form'd for lofty fong,

Afterwards Earl of Oxford.
Charles Scyinour, Duke of Somerset.
John Howe, Efq. of famous memory,

| With every fweet harmonious note

He charm'd the liftening throng: The hooting cuckow was difpleas'd alone, Condemn'd his manner, and extoll'd her own. "This fcreaming fop, quoth fhe, that scares All creatures with his din; When folks are listening to my airs,

Ferfooth he's putting in.

Here's fuch a chattering kept, and odious noife, My fong's quite spoil'd with his confounded voice."

The injur'd fongfter modeftly reply'd; "Since you perform fo fine,

The contest let fome judge decide,

And try your skill with mine; Vanquish'd, I'll your fuperior genius own." The cuckow fhook her head, and cry'd 'twas done. A folemn plodding ass that graz'd the plain Was for an umpire chofe :

The nightingale advanc'd his frain,

And charm'd with every close. The cuckow's note was one unvary'd tone, Exceeding hoarfe, yet pleas'd, fhe roar'd it on. Appeal was made; the judge this sentence gave, "You, firrah, nightingale!

Of mufic you fome fmatterings have,

And may in time do well;

But for fubftantial fong, I needs must say,
My friend, the cuckow, bears the bell away."

THE MORAL.

Mackworth *, who reads thy well-digefted lines,
Where eloquence with nervous reason shines,
Sees art and judgment flow through every page,
The patriot's zeal free from indecent rage;
So pure thy ftyle, thy manners fo refin'd,
Your pen tranfmits the candour of your mind.

Yet happier he that has the answer wrote,,
In penury of fense, and dearth of thought:
Whilft affes judge, and faction claims a vote,
Abufive nonfenfe is th' admired note;
Where want of art and manners merit praife,
He robs the cuckow of her ancient bays.

FABLE XI.

THE SUN AND THE WIND.

1

THE fun and wind one day fell out
In matters they difcours'd about.
Old Boreas, in a rage,
Call'd the fun fool, and fwore he ly'd,
Spit in his face, his power defy'd,

And dar'd him to engage.
Quoth he, "Yon goes a traveller,
With formal cloak and looks demure,
The Whiggish signs of grace:
Who fairly off the cloak can force,
From one fo fliff, proud, and morofe,
Deferves the upper place."

Sir Humphry Mackworth, to whom Yalden addrefe an excellent poetical epiftle "On the mines late of Sir Carbery Price." Sir Humphry wrote fome political pamphlets about this time,

With that the wind began to rife,
Blufter'd and ftorm'd it through the skies,
Making a dismal roar :

The non-con. wrapp'd his cloak about,
Trudg'd on, resolv'd to weather't out,
And fee the tempest o'er.

The ftorm being spent, with piercing rays,
Full on his shoulders Phoebus plays,

Which foon the zealot felt;
Afide the cumberous cloak was thrown,
Panting and faint, he laid him down,

More decently to melt.

The fun then afk'd his blustering friend,
If farther yet he durft contend,

And try fome other way:
But, confcious of so plain a truth,
He put his finger in his mouth,
Without a word to say.

THE MORAL.

Your Whigs difgrac'd, like bullies of the town,
Libel and rail, the more they're tumbled down :
Superior merit ftill prevails at last,
The fury of their feeble ftorm is past.
But when the fenate darts its piercing rays,
Faction unbuttons, and rebates its pace:
The hypocritic cloak is tiresome found,
And the faint zealot pants upon the ground.

FABLE XII.

THE BOAR AND FOREST.

A LION, generous and brave,

For wars renown'd, belov'd in peace;
His lands in royal bounties gave,

And treafures much impair'd by acts of grace.
His minifters whole realms obtain'd;
And courtiers, much inclin'd to want,
His manors begg'd, and forfeits gain'd,
With patents to confirm the royal grant.

The boar, to show a fubject's love,
Crav'd for the public good a boon,
His ancient forest to improve,
By felling trees, and cutting timber down.
"Alcoves and fhady walks, quoth he,
Are laid aside, become a jeft;
Your viftos lofty, wide, and free,
Are à la mode, and only in request.”

The grant being pass'd, the ravenous boar,
A defert of the foreft made:

Up by the roots vast oaks he tore,
And low on earth the princely cedars laid.

This act of violence and wrong
Alarum'd all the savage race;
With loud complaints to court they throng,
Stripp'd of their shades, and ancient resting-place.
With generous rage the lion shook,

And vow'd the boar fhould dearly pay; "I hate, quoth he, a down-caft look, That robs the public in a friendly way. "Unhappy groves, my empires pride! Lov'd folitudes, ye fhades divine!

The rage of tempests ye defy'd,
Condemn'd to perifh by a fordid swine,
"Ye rural deities, and powers unknown,
What can so great a lofs fuffice!
If a hung brawner will atone,
Accept friend chucky for a facrifice."
THE MORAL.

The British oak's our nation's strength and pride, With which triumphant o'er the main we ride; Infulting foes are by our navies aw'd,

A guard at home, our dreaded power abroad.
Like Druids then your forefts facred keep,
Preferve with them your empire of the deep.
Subjects their prince's bounty oft abuse,
And spoil the public for their private use;
But no rapacious hand fhould dare deface,
The royal ftores of a well timber'd chase.

FABLE XIII.

THE FOX AND FLIES.

As crafty Reynard strove to swim
The torrent of a rapid stream,

To gain the farther fide;
Before the middle space was paft,
A whirling eddy caught him faft,
And drove him with the tide.
With vain efforts and struggling spent,
Half drown'd, yet forc'd to be content,
Poor ren a foaking lay;

Till fome kind ebb fhould fet him free,
Or chance restore that liberty

The waves had took away.

A fwarm of half-ftarv'd haggard flies,
With fury feiz'd the floating prize,

By raging hunger led;
With many a curfe and bitter grean,
He shook his fides, and wifh'd them gone,
Whilft plenteously they fed.

A Hedge-hog faw his evil plight;
Touch'd with compaflion at the fight,

Quoth he, "To how I'm civil,
I'll brush thofe fwigging dogs away,
That on thy blood remorfelefs prey,
And fend them to the devil."
"No, courteous Sir, the Fox reply'd,
Let them infeft and gore my hide,
With their infatiate thirst;

Since I fuch fatal wounds fuftain,
'Twill yield fome pleasure 'midst the pain,
To fee the blood-hounds burst."

THE MORAL; FROM NOSTRADAMUL

"Le fang du Jufte à Londres fera faute
"Bruffer par feu, &c."

Thus guilty Britain to her Thames complain "With royal blood defil'd, O cleanse my gain! Whence plagues arife! whence dire contagios come!

And flames that my Augufta's pride confume !"

"In vain, faith Thames; the Regicidal breed) Will fwarm again, by them thy land thall bleed: Extremeft curfe! but so juft Heaven decreed!

THE BEAR AND MOUNTEBANK.

THERE liv'd a quack in high repute,
By virtue of a velvet fuit,

And celebrated bill;

As for his knowledge, 'tis allow'd,
He had enough to cheat the crowd,
And that's good modern skill.
Once as this orator held forth
On topics of his medicines' worth,

And wondrous cures they wrought;
Though not a word they understood,
His eloquence fo charm'd the crowd,

That till they gap'd and bought. 'Midft his harangue, one day it chanc'd, Tom Dove the bear that way advanc'd,

In proceffion to his stake;
The rabble quit their doctor ftraight,
And with huzzas on Bruin wait,

Who thus the chief befpake:

"D'ye bear, ye pack of bawling louts, Compos'd of vermin, ftink, and clouts

Why all this noife and do?
Though through my nose a ring is got,
And here I'm baited like a fot,

Still I resemble you.
"Obferve that mountebanking fool,
Perch'd yonder on his three-legg'd ftool,
With poisonous drugs to fell;
See o'er his fhoulder how he fneers,
Three hours to lug you by the ears,
Yet pleases wondrous well.
With fulfome lies and stupid stuff,
He cheats and banters you enough,
Yet there ye flock by fhoals;
But if by chance a bear's brought out,
At him ye hollow, laugh, and shout,
And who's the greater fools?

So, brother monfters, face about, The quack your keeper, wants his rout;

For, underneath the rofe,

Another fort of brutes there are,

Befides a ftupid Ruffian bear,
That's milled by the nofe."

THE MORAL.

Il minifters, like quacks, the crowd deceive, Defraud them for their good; and they believe: At France and Rome they rail with specious arts, And, whilst they cheat the vulgar, gain their hearts.

But if fagacious Bruin fmells them out, Their frauds expofing to the injur'd rout; To mifchief prone, implacable, and ftrong,

FABLE XV.

THE PEACOCK PROCLAIMED KING.

A VULTURE, old and feeble grown, Took up and much reform'd his life; His beak decay'd, and talons gone, Yet ftill he relifh'd noise and strife. Once a young peacock to the birds brought forth On his high birth harangued, and blooming

worth.

"The ifles and watery realm, faid he,
This hopeful monarch fhall command!
His fceptre to depend on me,
And rule the tributary land;
Referving only for our royal ufe,
Whate'er the feas and fertile coafts produce."
The peacock, a pert dapper spark,
Made the fagacious vulture's choice;
His title and descent, though dark,
Soon gain'd the whole affembly's voice,
The pye except, a member of the board,
Who, 'midst their acclamations, crav'd a word,
"His highness' merits and defert,
Quoth he, 'tis needless to dispute;

In giving empires we're too pert,
With neither right nor power to do't;
You've made a peacock king: pray, now 'tis
done,

What champion here conducts him to his throne.
"Where the imperial eagle reigns,
Renown'd for arms, and warlike might,
Who fuch a feeble youth disdains,
And vultures dares engage in fight?
Therefore, meffieurs, it is my private voice,
That the poffeffor firft approve our choice."

THE MORAL.

Cæfar, that prince betrays his fears, Who ftyles thee monarch in the field, But, when thy army disappears, To weak pretenders will thy titles yield.

But wifer politicians fay,

True conduct is not fo much fhown,
In giving others' realms away,
As in defending well their own.

FABLE XVI.

A LACONIC CONDEMNED.

A SAGE laconic, truly wife,
Whose converfation was concife,

Train'd up in rigid schools;
Once, when a fingle word would do,
Had lavishly made use of two,

In high contempt of rules.
A bill against him was preferr'd,
The charge by evidence averr'd,
That fully prov'd the fact:

wrong.

Tom Dove has been celebrated by Dryden and King,

In words as few, and little time, As answer'd men compact.

Quoth one," The being too verbose
A misdemeanor is so grofs,

Of that pernicious kind!

The punishment must reach your sense,
And reafon fmart for this offence,
By torturing your mind.

"Read Jura Populi o'er twice,
Pittis and Bunyan, books of price!
And Oats's modeft vein:

Read Baxter's volumes, Tindal's works, Yorkshire Petish with that of Bucks, True cant, and libel ftrain.

For folid nonfenfe, thoughtless words, The vindication of the Lords,

That anfwers "Mackworth's State:"

Read first and fecond paragraph,
If possible drudge on through half,
Your crime you'll expiate."

The wretch with ftrong convulsions fhook,
Defpair and anguish in his look,

To heaven for mercy cry'd: Quoth he, "Send gibbets, racks, or wheel, Algiers and gallies please me well, Such torments I'll abide.

"But damn me not for one offence,
To volumes unally'd to sense,

Vainly to wafte my breath ·
That answer to the Commons' rights
With labour'd dulinefs fo affrights,

The thoughts are worfe than death.”