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Tis certain that you'll be the jest
One morning when the daw appear'), Of every inseet, bird and beast,
The project was propos'd and heaid: When you lie batter'd by your fall
And though the bird was much surpris'd Just at the bottom of the wall.
To find friend Pug so ill advis'd, Be prudent then, improve the pow'rs
He rather chose that he shou'd try Which nature gives in place of ours.
At his own proper risk to fly, You'll find them readily conduce
Than hazard, in a case so nice, At once to plessure and to use.
To shock him by too free advice. But airy whims and crotchets lead
Quoth be, “I'm certain that you'll find To certain loss, and ne'er succeed:
The project answer to your inind; As folks, though inly vex'd and teas'd,
Without suspicion, dread or care, Will oft seeal satisfy'd and pleas'd.”
At once commit you w the air; The ape approvd of every word,
You'll soar aloft, or, if you please, At this time utter'd by the bird:
Proceed straight forwards at your ease: But nothing in opinion chang'd,
The whole depends on resolution, 'Thought only how to be reveng'd.
Which you possess from constitution ; It happend when t'ie dlay was fair,
And if you follow as I lead, That Poil was set to take the air,
'Tis past a doubt you must succeed." Just where the monkey oft sat poring
So saying, from the turret's height About experiments in soaring:
The Jack-daw shot with downward flight, Dissembling his contempt and rage,
And on the edge of a canal, He stept up softly to the cage,
Some fifty paces from the wall, And with a sly malicious grin,
'Lighted obsequious to attend Accosted thus the bird within.
The monkey when he sbould descend : You say, I am not form'd for fight;
But he, altho' he had believ'd In this you certainly are right;
The flatterer and was deceiv'd, 'Tis very plain upon reflection,
Felt some inisgivings at his heart But to yourself there's no objection,
lo vent'ring on so new an art : Since flying is the very trade
But yet at last, 'tween hope and fear, For which the winged race is made;
Himself he trusted to the air ; And therefore for our mutual sport,
But far'd like him whom puets mention, I'll make you fly, you can't be hurt.”
With Dedalus's old invention : With that he slyly slipt the string
Directly downwards on his head Which held the cage up by the ring.
He fell, and lay an hour for dead. In vain the parrot begg'd and pray'd,
The various creatures in the place, No word tas minded that she said ;
Ilad dift'rent thoughts upon the case, Down went the cage, and on the ground
From some bis fate compassion drew, Bruisd and half-dead poor Poll was found, But those I must confess were few ; Pug,who for some time had attended
The rest esteem'd him rightly serv'd, To that alone wiich now was ended,
And in the manner he deserv'd, Again bad leisure to pursue
For playing tricks beyond his sphere, The project he had first in view.
Nor thought the punishment severe. Qooth be,“ A person if he's wise
They gather'd round him as he lay, Will only with bis friends advise,
And jeerd him when he limp'd away. They know his temper and his parts,
Pug, disappointed thus and hurt, And have his interest near their hearts,
And grown besides the public sport,
Found all his different passions change
The daw 'twas useless to pursue ;
His helpless brood, as next in view, Or judging wrong, from spleen and hate With unrelenting paws he seiz'd, His talents slight or underrate:
One's neck he wrung, another squeez'd, I acted sure with small reflection
Till of the pumber four or five, In asking counsel and direction
No single bird was left alive. From a sly minion whom I know
Thus copinsellors, in all regards To be my rival and my foe:
Though different, meet with like rewards, Que who will constantly endeavour
The story shows the certain fate To burt mc in our lady's favour,
Of every mortal soon or late, And watch and plot to keep me down,
Whose evil genius for his crimes
Connects with any fop that rhymes.
THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW My debtor too for many a crust;
Declare, ye sages,
if Which in the window oft I lay
ye For him to come and take away :
'Mongst animals of ev'ry kind, From gratitude no doubt he'll give
Of each condition, sort, and size, Buch counsel as I may receive;
From whales and elephants to flies, Well back'd with reasons strong and plain A creature that mistakes his plan, To push me forward or restraiu."
And errs so constantly as man
Each kind pursues his proper good,
And left him to compute his gains,
With nought bui labour for his pains.
CELIA AND HER MIRROR,
As there are various sorts of minds,
So friendships are of dif'rent kinds :
Some, constant when the object’s near, With fishes to explore the food.
Soon vanish if it disappear. Man only acts, of every creature,
Another sort, with equal flame, In opposition to his nature.
In absence will be still the same : The bappiness of human kind,
Some folks a trifle will provoke, Consists in rectitude of mind,
Their weak attachment soon is broke; A will subdu'd to reason's sway,
Some great offences only move And passions practis'd to obey ;
To change in friendship or'in love. An open and a gen'rous heart,
Affection, when it has its source
In things that shift and change of course,
Must likewise fade and melt away.
But when 'tis of a nobler kind, Else Plato reasons much amiss:
Inspir'd by rectitude of mind, But foolish mortals still pursue
Whatever accident arrives, False happiness in place of true;
It lives, and death itself survives; Ambition serves us for a guide,
Those different kinds reduc'd to two, Or lust, or avarice, or pride;
False friendship may be call’d, and true. While reason no assent can gain,
In Celia's drawing-room of late
Some female friends were met to chat ;
Where after much discourse had past,
A portrait grew the theme at last :
'Twas Celia's you must understand, Which still avoids us like the wind;
And by a celebrated hand. Ev'n when we think the prize our owy,
Says one, “That picture sure must strike, At once'tis ranish’d, lost, and gone.
In all respects it is so like;
Your very features, shape and air You'll ask me why I thus rehearse
Express'd, believe me, to a bair: All Epictetus in my verse,
The price I'm sure cou'd not be small, And if I fondly hope to please
“ Just fifty guineas frame and all.”With dry reflections such as these,
“ That mirror there is wond'rous fine."
For never was a thing so dear.”-
“ Dear!”-quoth the looking-glassand spoke, The shining bow he chane'd to spy,
“ Madam, it wou'd a saint provoke: Which warns uis when a show'r is nigh;
Must that same gaudy thing be own'd With brightest rays it seem'd to glow,
A pennyworth at fitty pound; Its distance eighty yards or so.
While I at nine am reckon'd dear,
'Tis what I never thought to hear, The story of the cup of gold,
Let both our merits now be try'd, Which Fame reports is to be found
This fair assembly shall decide; Just wbere the rainbow meets the ground;
And I will prove it to your face, He therefore feit a sudden itch
That you are partial in the case.
I give a likeness far more true
Than any artist ever drew :
And what is vastly more, express Midst ease and plenty, like a 'squire:
Your whole variery of dress: He mark'd the very spot of land
From morn to noun, from noon to night, On which the rainbow secm'd to stand,
I watch each change and paint it right; And stepping forwards at his leisure
Besides I'm mistress of the art, Expected to have found the treasure.
Which conquers and secures a heart. But as be mov’d, the colour'd ray
I teach you how to use those arms, Still chang'd its place and slipt away,
1 bat vary and assist your charms, As seeming his approach to shun;
Aud in the triumphs of the fair, Fruin walking he began to run,
Claim half the merit for my share: But all in vain, it still wiihdrew
So when the truth is fairly told, As nimb y as he cou'd pursue;
I'm wori h at least my weight gold; At last through many a bog and lake,
But that vain thing of which you speak Rough craggy road and thorny brake,
Becomes quite useless in a week. It led the easy fool, till night
Por, though it had no other vice, Approach'd, then vanish'd in his sight,
'Tis out of fashion in a trice :
A happiness we toil to find,
So trite, so hackney'd, and so stale ?
One ev’ning as a simple suain
This bumpkin had it seems been told
A tale an ancient bard has told
Of two poor hishermen of old,
Their names were (lest I should forget
And put the reader in a pet,
Lest critics too shou'd make a pother)
The one Asphelio, Gripus t’uther.
The men were very poor, their trade
Cou'd scarce afford them daily bread:
Though ply'd with industry and care
Through the whole season, foul and fair,
Upon a rock their cottage stood,
On all sides bounded by the tioud :
It was a miserable seat,
Like cold and hunger's worst retreat:
And yet it serv'd them both for lite,
As neither cou'd maintain a wile;
Two walls were rock, and two were sand,
Ramm'd up with stakes and made to stando
A roof hung threat'ning o'er tbeir heads luchangʻd and constant, lasts for years,
Of boards half-rotten, thatch'd with reeds.
And as no thief e'er touch'd their store,
A hurdle serv'd them for a dovr.
Their beds were leaves ; against the wall
On one side lay an old patch’d uherry
Like Charon's on the Stygian ferry :
On t'other, baskets and a net,
With sea-weed foul and always wet.
These sorry instruments of trade
Were all the furniture they had:
For they had neither spil nor pot,
Unless my author has forgot.
Once, some few hours ele break of day,
As in their hut our fishers lay,
The one awak'd and wak'd his neighbour,
That both might ply their daily labour;
For cold and hunger are contest
No friends to indolence or rest.
“ Friend,” quoth the drowsy swain, and swore, Furget that e'er I had a being :
“What you have done bas hurt me more
Than all your service can repay
For years to come by night and day;
You've broke the thought on't makes me mad
The finest dream that e'er I had.” (prove Weigh each advantage and defect,
Quoth Gripus: “ Friend your speech wou'd
You mad indeed, or else in love;
For dreams shou'd weigh but light with those
Who feel the want of food and clothes :
I guess, though simple and untaught,
You dream'd about a lucky draught,
“ You're wond'ruus sbrewd, upon my troth, THE FISHERMEN.
Asphelio cry'd, " and right iu bochin,
My dream had gold in't, as you said,
And tishing too, our constant trade;
And since your guess has hit so near',
In short the whuleon't you shall hear.
“ Upon the shore I seem'd to stand,
My rod and tackle in my hand;
The baited hook full oft I threw,
But still in vain, I nothing drew:
A tish at last appear'd tu bite,
The cork divd quickly out of sight,
And soon the dipping rud I tound
With something weighty bent half round:
Quoth I, . Good luck has come at last,
I've surely made a happy cast:
This fish, when in the market sold,
In place of brass will sell for gold;"
But service sure,
CUPID AND THE SHEPHERD,
To bring it safe within my reach
Tis time to quit the fishing trade,
"" If this, quoth Gripus, “is the way You choose, I've nothing more to say ; 'Tis plala tlat dreams of wealth will serve A person who resolves to starve; But sure, to npg a fancy'd case, That never did nor can take place, And for the pleasures it can give Neglect the trade by which we live, Is madness in its greatest beight, Or I mistake the matter quite : Leave such vain fancies to the great, For folly suits a large estate: The rich may safely deal in dreams, Romantic hopes and airy schemes. But you and I, upon my word, Such pastime cannot well afford; And therefore if you would be wise, Take my advice, for once, and rise."
Wuo sets his heart on things below,
A swain, whose lock had gone astray,
is Sir," quoth the shepherd, “ if you'll try. Your arrows soon will make them fly; Or if they brave them and resist, My sling is ready to assist."
Incapable of wounds and pain,". Reply'd the winged youth again,
TO THE POETS.
of These foes our weapons will defy;
" As black as ink!- if this be true, Immortal made, they never die;
To me 'tis wonderful and new,” But live to haunt me every where,
The sov’reign of the birds reply'd; While I remain within their sphere."
“ But soon the truth on't shall be try'd. “Sir," quoth the swain, “ might I advise, Sir, show your limbs, and for my sake, You straight shou'd get above the skies:
Confute at once this foul mistake, It seems indeed your only way,
For 'l'll maintain, and I am right, For nothing here is worth your stay:
That, like your feathers, they are white." Beside, when foes like these molest,
Sir," quoth the swan, “it wou be vain You'll find but little peace or rest.”
For me a falsehood to maintain;
Put if I had not got a prize
Not half the birds had ever known
What truth now forces me to own." Engages in a desp’rate game: His labour he will find but lost, Or less than half repaid at most : То prove this point I shall not choose
THE LOVER AND HIS FRIEND The arguments which Stoics use ; That buman life is but a dream, And few things in it what they seem: That praise is vain and little worth,
'Tis not the point in works of art
With care to furnish every part,
That each, to high perfection rais'd,
May draw attention and be' prais'd,
An object by itself respected,
Though all the others were neglected:
Not masters only this can do,
But many a vulgar artist too :
We know distinguish'd merit most
When in the whole the parts are lost,
When nothing rises up to shine,
Or draw us from the chief design.
When one united full effect
Is felt before we can reflect,
And mark the causes that conspire
To charm, and force us to admire,
This is indeed a master's part,
The very summit of his art,
And therefore when ye shall rehearse
To friends for trial of your verse,
Mark their behaviour and their way,
As much, at least, as what they say ;
If they seem pleas'd, and yet are mute,
The poem's good beyond dispute;
But when they babble all the while,
Now praise the sense, and now the style,
'Tis plain that something must be wroug, The swan superior to the rest,
This too weak or that too strong.
The art is wanting which conveys
Impressions in mysterious ways,
And makes us from a whole receive
What no divided parts can give:
Fine writing, therefore, seems of course
Less fit to please at first than worse.
Alanguage fitted to the sense
Will hardly pass for eloquence.
The charm which gives it pow'r to please,
And ere instructed to admire,
Will read and read and never tire.
But when the style is of a kind
Which soars and leaves the sense behind,
"Tis something by itself, and draws
From vulgar julges dull applause;
They'll yawn, and tell you as you read,
“ Those lines are mighty fine indeed;" His legs and feet are black as ink