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To make the generous beasts his friends, Such freedoms is your works are hown, He cringes, fawns, and condescends;

They can't enjoy what's mor abeir own. But those repuls'd his abject court,

All donces, le, in church and state, And fcoru'd opprellion to fupport,

lo frothy noxifenfe foow their haze; Friends muft be had. He can't fubt.

With all the perty fcribbling crew Bribes fball new proselytes inlift :

(And those pert fots are not a few), But these nought weigh'd in honeft paws;

Gainit you and Pope their envy fpurt, For bribes confefs a wicked caule;

The book felless alige are hurt Yet thwk not eveTy paw withAtands

Good Gods: by what a powerfal race What hath prevail'd in human hands.

(Por blockheads may have power and placé) A tempting turnip's filver kin

Are scandals rais'd, and litek wsit! Drew a base hog through thick and thin ; To prove your honefty and wit! Bough: with a fag's delicions hannch,

Think with yourself : those worrby mes, The nzercenary wolf was staunch :

You know, have fuffered by your pen. The couvert for grew warm and hearty,

From them you've nothing but yons dee, A pullet gain'd him to the party :

From hebce, 'tis plain, your friends are (ew. The golden-pippin in his fit,

Excepe myself, I know of none, A chattering monkey join'd the li.

Befides the wife and good alone. But foon expos'd to public hate,

To fet the case in fairer light, The favourite's fall redref the fate.

My fable fhall the rest secite, The leopard, vindicating right,

Which (though unlike our present flate) Had brought his fecrct frauds to light.

I for the moral's fake relate. As rats, before the manfion falls,

A bee of cunning, not of parts, Desert late hospitable walls,

Luxurious, negligent of arts, In thoals the servile creatuses run,

Rapacious arroyant, and rain, To bow before the rising fun.

Greedy of power, but more of gain, The hog with warmth express'd his zeal, Corruption fow'd throughout the hive: And was for hanging those thar fteal;

By petty rogues the great oues thrive. But hop'd though low, the public hoasd

As power and wealth his views fupply'd, Might half a turnip fill afford.

'Twas seen in overbear ing pride. Since saving meafures were proleft,

With him loud impudence had merit; A lamb's head was the wolf's requeft.

The bee of conscience wanted spirit; The fox fubmitted, if co touch

And those who í llow'd honour's rules A gofling would be deem'd coo much.

Were laugh'd to fcorn los fqueamish foolsa The monkey thought his grin and chatter

Wealth claim'd diffiodiva, favour, gracs, Might afk a nut, os fome fuch matter.

And poverty alone was bafe. ** Ye hirelings! hence : (the leopard cries) He treated industry wish flight, Your venal conscience I defpise.

Undets he found his profit by't. He, who the public good intends,

Rights, laws, and liberties, give way, By bribes needs never purchase friends.

To bring his fejfist schemes in play. Who acts this jnft, this honeft part,

The Swarm forgot the common toil, Is prope by every honeft heart.

To share the gleanings of his spoil. Corruption Duwino lare has tow'3,

While vulgar fouls, of varrow parts, That bribes are always ill-bestow'd;

Wafte life in low mechanic arts, By you your bubbled mafter's taught,

Let us (says he) co genins born,
Time-Serving tools, not friends, are bought." The drudgery of our fathers scorn.

The wasp and drone, you must agree,

Live with more elegance than we.

Like gentlemen they fport and play;
Tbe degenerate ees.

No, business interrupts the day :
TO THE XEV DR. SWIIT, DEAN OF ST. PATRICK's. Their beurs to luxury they give,

And nobly on their neighboors live. Tsouge courts the pradise disallow,

A stubborn bee, among the fwarm, A friend at all times I'll avow.

With honeft indignation warm, In politics I know 'uis wrong;

Thus from his cell with zeal reply'd: A friendship may be kept too long;

“ I flight thy frowns, and hate aby pride And what they call the prudent part,

The laws our native rights protest; Is to wear intcreft Dext the beari.

Offending thee, I those refpe&t; As the times take a diferent face,

Shall luxury corrupt the hive, old friendships should to new give place.

And none again the torrent ftrive? I know, too, you have many focs,

Exert the honour of your sace; That owning yoo is sharing those ;

He builds his rife on your disgrace. That every kuave in every itasion,

l'is industry our ftate maintains; Of high and low denomination.

'Twas bonelt toil and hopeft gains For what you speak, and what you write, That sais'd ous fures to power

and fame. Dr:ad you at once, and bear yon fpire.

Be virtuowa; fare yourselves from Sharca

Know that, in felfish ends pursuing,

A carrier, every night and morn, You foramble for the public ruin.'

Would see his horses eat their corn: He spoke; and, from his cell dismiss'd,

This sunk the hoftler's vails, 'tis true; Was insolently scoff'd and hils'd.

But then his horses had their due. With him a friend or two resign'd,

Were we so cautious in all cases, Disdaining the degenerate kind.

Small gains would rise from greater places. “ Thesc drones (says he), these infe&ts vile, The manger now had all its measure; (I treat them in their proper style)

He heard their grinding teeth with pleasure May for a timne oppress the state :

When all at once confufion rung; They own our virtue by their hate;

They snorted, joftled, bit, and fung. By that our merits they reveal,

A pack-horse turn'd his head aside, And recommend our public zeal;

Foaming, his eye-balls swell'd with pride. Disgrac'd by this corrupted crew,

Good gods ! (says he) how hard's my lot! We're honour'd by the virtuous few.

Is then my high defcent forgot?

Reduc'd to drudgery and disgrace

(A life unworthy of my race),
The Pack-borse and tbe Carrier.

Muft I, too, hear the vile attacks

Of ragged scrubs and vulgar hacks ?

See (curvy Roan, that brute ill-bred,

Dares from the manger thrust my head!) Begin, my Lord, in carly youth,

Shall I, who boast of noble line, To suffer, nay, encourage truth ;

On offals of these creatures dine? And blame me not for disrepedt,

Kick'd by old Ball! fo 'mean a foe? If I the flatterer's style reject;

My honour suffers by the blow. With that, by merial tongues fupply'd,

Newmarket speaks my grandfire's fame; You're daily cocker'd up in pride.

All jockeys Kill revere his name : The tree's distinguish'd by the fruit.

There, yearly, are his triumphs told, Be virtue, then, your first pursuit ;

There all his inaffy places inrollid. Set your great ancestors in view,

Whene'er led forth upon the plain, Like them deserve the title too;

You saw him with a livery train; Like them ignoble actions scorn ;

Returning, too, with laurels crown'd, Let virtue prove you greatly born.

You heard the drums and trumpets sound. Though with less plate theit sideboard shone,

Let it then, Sir, be understood, Their conscience always was their own;

Respect's my due, for I have blood." They ne'er at levees meaniy fawn'd,

Vain-glorious fool! (the carrier cry'd) Nor was their honour yearly pawn'd;

Respect was never paid to pride. 'Their hands, by no corruption stain'd,

Knot 'twas thy giddy wilful heart The ministerial bribe disdain'd;

Reduc'd thee to this flavish part, 'They serv'd the crown with loyal zeal,

Did not thy headstrong youth disdain Yet, jealous of the publie wael,

To learn the conduct of the rein ? They stood the bulwark of our laws,

Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit, And wore at heart their country's cause;

In vicious frolics fancy spirit. By neither place or pension bought,

What is't to me by whom begot, They spoke and voted as they thought.

Thou reftive, pert, conceited for ? Thus did your fires adorn their seat;

Your fires, I reverence; 'tis their due ; And such'alone are truly great.

But, worthless fool, what's that to you? - If you the paths of learning flight,

Ak all the carriers on the road,
You're but a dunce in stronger light.
In foremost rank the coward plac'd,

They'll say, thy keeping's ill beflow'd;

Then vaunt no more thy noble race, Is more conspicuously disgrac'd.

That neither mends thy ftrength or pace. If you, to serve a paltry end,

What profits me thy boast of blood ? To knavilh jobs can condescend,

An als has more intrintic good. We pay you the contempt that's due;

By outward show let's nne be cheated ; In that you have precedence too.

An ass should like an als be treated."
Whence had you this illustrious name?
From virtue and unblemish'd fame.

By birth the name alone descends';
Your honour on yourself depends :

Pan and Fortune.
Think not your coronet can hide

Assuming ignorance and pride.
Learning by study must be won;

Soon as your father's death was known, *Twas ne'er encail'd fron: son to son.

(As if th' estate had been their own) Superior worth your rank requires;

The gamesters-outwardly exprest For that mankind reveres your fires :

The decent joy within your breast. H you degenerate from your race,

So lavih in your praise they grew, Their merits heighten your disgraca.

As spoke their certain hopes in you.

One counts your income of the year,

Through the long wood loud axes found, How much in ready money clear.

And echo groans with every wound. “ No house (says he) is more complete ;

To see the desolation spread, The garden's elegant and great.

Pan drops a tear, and hangs his head : How fine the park around it lies!

His bosom now with fury burns; The timber's of a noble fize.

Beneath his hoof the dice he spurns. Then couat his jewels and his plale.

Cards, too, in peevish passion torn, Besides, 'is no entail'd estate.

The sport of whirling winds are borne, If cash run low, his lands in fee

“ To snails inveterate hate I bear, Are, or for sale or mortgage free."

Who spoil the verdure of the year; Thus they, before you threw the main,

The caterpillar I detest, Seem to anticipate their gain.

The blooming spring's voracious pelt; Would you, when thieves are known abroad, The locust, too, whose ravenous band Bring forth your treasures in the road?

Spreads sudden famine o'er the land. Would not the fool abet the sealth,

But what are these ? the dice's throw Who rafhly thu« expos'd his wealth?

At once hath laid a forest low. Yet this you do, whene'er you play

The cards are dealt, the bett is made,
Among the gentlemen of prey.

And the wide park hath lost its Made.
Could fools to keep their own contrive, Thus is my kingdom's pride defac'd,
On what, on whom could gameters thrive? And all its ancient glories waste.
Is it in charity you game,

All this (he cries) is fortune's doing :
To save your worthy gang from fame?

'Tis thus the meditates my ruin, Unlel's you furnith'd daily bread,

By fortune, that false, fickle jade, Which way coul idieners be fed?

More havock in one hour is made, Could there professors of deceit

Than all the hungry infect race, Within the law no longer cheat,

Combin'd, can in an age deface." They must run bolder risks for prey,

Fortune, by chance, who near him past, And ftrip the traveller on the way.

O'er heard the vile aspersion caft. Thus in your annual rents they share,

" Why, Pan, (says she) what's all this ranta And 'scape the noose from year to year.

'Tis every country-bubble's cant. Confider, ere you take the bet,

Am I the patroness of vice? Thar sum might cross your cailor's debt.

Is't I who cog or palm the dice? When you the pilfering rattle shake,

Did I the shuffing art reveal, Is not your honour, too, at stake?

To mark the cards, or range the deal ? Must you not by mean lies evade

In all th' employments men pursue, To-morrow's duns from every trade;

I mind the least what gamesters do. By promises so osten paid,

There may (if computacion's just) Is yet your tailor's bill defray'd ?

One now and then my conduct trust. Must you not pitifully fawn

I blame the fool, for what can I, To have your butcher's writ withdrawn?

When ninety-nine my power defy ? This must be done. In debts of play,

These trust alone their fingers' ends, Your honour fuffers no delay;

And not one stake on me depends, And not this year's and next year's rent

Whene'er the gaming-board is set, The sons of rapine can content.

Two classes of mankind are met; Look round, the wrecks of play behold, But, if we count the greedy race, Estates dismember'd, mortgag'd, fold!

The knaves fill up the greater space, Their owners now, to goals confin'd,

'Tis a gross error held in schools, Show equal poverty of mind.

That forcune always favours fools. Some, who the spoil of knaves were made, In play it never bears dispute ; Too late attempt to learn their trade.

That do&rine these felld oaks confute, Some, for the folly of one hour,

Then why to me such rancour show ? Become the dirty tools of power;

'Tis folly, Pan, that is thy foc. And, with the mercenary lift,

By me his late estate he won,
Upon court-charity subfiit.

But he by folly was undone."
You'll find at last this maxim true,
Fools are the game which knaves pursue.

The forest (a whole century's shade)
Must be one wasteful ruin made :

Plutus, Cupid, and Time.
No mercy's shown to age or kind;
The general massacre is fign'd.

Os all the burdens man must bear,
The park, too, shares the dreadful fate,

Time seems moit galling and severe : For duns grow louder at the gate.

Beneath this grievous load oppress’d. Steru clowns, obedient to the 'squire,

We daily, meet some friend distress'd. (What will not barbarous hands for hire?) “ What can one do? I rose at nine? With brawny arms repeat the froke;

'Tis full fix hours before we dine ; Föl'n are the clm and reverend oak.

Six hours! no earthly thing to do!

Were you to schemes of bufines bred, Would I had doz'd in bed till two!"

Did you the paths of learning tread, A pamphlet is before him spread,

Your hours, your days, would fly too fast; And almost half a page is read;

You'd then regret the minute past. Tir'd with the study of the day,

Time's fugitive and light as wind : The fluttering sheets are tots'd away.

'lis indolence that clogs your mind : He opes his snuff-box, hums an air,

That load from off your spirits fhake, Then yawns, and stretches in his chair.

You'll own, and grieve for your mistake. “ Not twenty, by the minute-hand!

A while your thoughtless spleen sufpend, Good gods, says he, my watch must stand!

Then read, and, if you can, attend, How muddling 'tis on books to pore!

As Plutus, to divert his care, I thought I'd read an hour or more.

Walk'd forth one morn to take the air, The morning, of all hours. I hate.

Cupid o'ertock his strutting pace. One can't contrive to rise too late.”

Each stared upon the Itranger's face, To make the minutes faster run,

Till recollection set them right, Then, too, his tiresome self to fhun,

For each knew th' other but by sight. To the next coffee-house he speeds,

After some complimental talk, Takes up the news, some scraps he reade.

Time met them, bow'd, and join'd their walk. Sauntering, from chair to chair he trails;

Their chat on various subjects raa, Now drinks his tea, now bites his nails.

But most, what each had done for man. He spies a partner of his woe;

Plutus assunies a haughty air, By chat afflictions lighter grow;

Just like our purse-proud fellows here. Each other's grievances they fhare,

“Let kings, (says he), let cobblers tell, And thus their dreadful hours compare.

Whose gists among mankind excl.
Says Ton, “ Since all men must confess, Consider courts; wbat draws their train ?
That'time lies heavy, more or less,

Think you 'cis loyalty or gain ?
Why should it be so hard to get,

That ftatesman hath che strongest huld, Till two, a party at piquet ?

Whose tool of politics is gold; Play might relicve the lagging morn :

By that, in former reigns, 'tis said, By cards long wintery nights are borne,

The knave in power hath senares led : Docs no: quadrille amuse the fair,

By that alone he sway'd debates, Night after night, throughout the year ?

Eorich'd himself, and beggar'd rates. Vapours and (pleen forgot, at play

Forego your boast. You muł conclude, They cheat uncounted hours away.”

That's molt estcem'd that's most pursucd. “My case, (says Will), then must be hard, Think, too, in what a woeful plight By want of skill from play debarr'd.

That wretch must live whole pocket's light. Courtiers kill tinte by various ways;

Are not his hours by want depres? Dependence wears out half their days.

Penurious care corrodes his breast. How happy these, whose time ne'er fanda! Without respect, or love, or friends, Attendance takes it off their hands.

His folitary day deftends." Were it not for this cursed shower,

“ You might, (lays Cupid), doubt my parts, The park had will'd away an hour.

My knowledge, too, in human hearts, At court, without or place or view,

Should I the power of gold dispute, I daily lose an hour or two :

Which great examples might confute, It fully answers my design,

I know, when nothing else prevails, When I have pick'd up friends to dine;

Persuasive money seldom fails; The tavern makes our burden light;

That beauty, too, (like other wares) Wine puts our time and care to fight.

Its price, as well as conscience, bears, At fix (hard case!) they call to pay.

The marriage (as of late profen) Where can one go? I hate the play.

Is but a money-job at best, From six till ten unless in deep,

Consent, compliance, may be fold; One cannot spend the hours so chcap.

But love's beyond the price of gold. The conicdy's no sooner done,

Smugglers there are, who, by retail, But some assembly is begun;

Expose what they call love to sale ; Loitering from room to room I stray,

Such bargains are an arrant cheae : Converse, but nothing hear or say:

You purchase ilatcery and deceit. Quite tir'd, from fair to fair I roam.

Those who true love have ever try'd So soon! I dread the thoughts of home.

(The common cares of life supply'd) From thence, to quicken flow-pac'd night, No wants endure, no wishes make, Again my tavern-friends invite :

But every real joy partake. Here, too, our early mornings pass,

All comfort on themselves depends; Till drowsy sleep retard the glass."

They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends Thus they their wretched life bemoan,

Love, then, hath every bliss in store; And make each other's case their own.

'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Consider, friends, no hour rolls on

Each other every with they give : But something of your grief is gone,

Not to know love, is not to live."

" Or love, or money, (Time reply'd)

Teach me what yet remains undone; Were men the question to decide,

'Tis your advice shall fix my son." Would bear the prize : on both intent,

" Sir, (says the friend), P've weigh'd the matter My boon's neglected or mis-spent.

Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter : 'Tis I who measure vital space,

Make him (nor chink his genius check'd) And deal out years to human race.

A herald or an architect." Though little priz'd, and seldom sought,

Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known) Without me love and gold are nought,

He heard th' advice, and took his own. How does thc miser time employ?

The boy wants wit; he's sent to school, Did I e'er see him lise enjoy?

Where learning but improves the fool. By me foisook, che hoards he won,

The college next must give him parts, Are scatter'd by his lavish son.

And cram him with the liberal arts, By me all useful arts are gain'd:

Whether he blunders at the bar, Wealth, learning, wisdom, is attain'd.

Or owes his infamy to war; Who then would think (since such my power) Or if by licence or degree That e'er I knew an idle hour ?

The sexton share the doctor's fee; So sabtle and so swift I fly,

Or from the pulpit by the hour Love's not more fugitive than I.

He weekly foods of nonfense pour; Who hath not heard coquettes complain

We find (th' intent of nature foild) of days, months, years, mif-spent in vain ? A tailor or a butcher spoil'd. For time nisus'd they pine and waste,

Thus ministers have royal boons And love's sweet pleasures never talle.

Conferr'd on blockheads and buffoons : Those who dired their time aright,

In spite of nature, merit, wit, If love or wealth their hopes excite,

Their friends for every poft were fit, In each pursuit fit hours employ'd,

But now let every muse confefs And both by time have been enjoy'd.

That meric finds its due success. How heedless then are mortals grown!

Th' examples of our days regard ; How little is their interest known!

Where's virtue seen without reward: In every view they ought to mind me,

Distinguish'd and in place you find For, when once loft, they never find me."

Desert and worth of every kind. He fjoke. The gods no more contest,

Survey the reverend bench, and see And his superior gift confess'd,

Religion, learning, piety : That time (when truly understood)

The patron, ere he recommends,
Is the most precious earthly good,

Sees his own image in his friend's,
Is honesty disgrac'd and poor?

What is't to us what was before?

We of all times corrupt have heard,
The Ozol, the Swan, the Cock, the Spider, the Afs, and when paltry minions were preferr’d;

When all great offices, by dozens, tbe Farmer.-T, a Mother.

Were fill'd by brothers, sons, and cousins. CONTERSING with your sprightly boys,

What matter ignorance and pride? Your eyes have spoke the mother's joye.

The man was happily ally'd. With what delighe I've heard you quote

Provided that his clerk was good, Their sayings in imperfect note!

What though he nothing understood ? igrali, in body and in mind

In church and state the sorry race Nature appears profusely kind.

Grew more conspicuous fools in place. Trust not to that. Ad you your part;

Such heads, as then a treaty made, Imprine juft mora's on their heart;

Had bungled in tlte cobler's trade.. Impartially their talents scan :

Consider, patrons, that such elves Jull education forms the man.

Expose your folly with themselves, Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)

'Tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care, Each lot of life's already thrown;

To fix each genius in its (phere. That this shall plead, the next shall fight,

Your partial hand can wealth dispense, The last affert the church's right.

But never give a blockhead sense. I censure not the fond intent;

An owl of magisterial air, But how precarious is th'event!

Of solemn voice, of brow auftere, By talents misapply'd and croft,

Aflum'd the pride of human race, Consider, all your sons are loft.

And bore his wisdom in his face ; One day (the tale's by Martial penn'd)

Not to depreciate learned eyes, A father thus addref'd his friend :

I've seen a pedant look as wise. “ To train my boy, and call forth sense,

Within a barn, from noise retir'd, You know I've stuck at no expence;

He scorn'd the world, himself admir'd; I've ery'd him in the several arts ;

And, like an ancient sage, conceal’d (The lad, no doubt, hath latent parts)

The follies public life reveal'd. Yet, trying all, he nothing knows,

Philosophers of old, he read, But, crab-like, rather backward goes.

Their country's youth to science bred,

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