So monftrous-like the portrait 's found,
All know it, and the laugh goes round.
Like him I draw from general nature;
Is 't I or you then fix the fatire?

So, Sir, I beg you, spare your pains
In making comments on my ftrains.
All private flander I deteft,

I judge not of my neighbour's breast:
Party and prejudice I hate,

And write no libels on the ftate.

Shall not my Fable cenfure vice,
Because a knave is over-nice?
And, left the guilty hear and dread,
Shall not the decalogue be read?
If I lash vice in general fiction,
Is 't I apply, or felf-conviction?
Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame,
If men in morals are the fame ?

I no man call or ape or ass;

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40

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50

'Tis his own confcience holds the glass. Thus void of all offence I write :

Who claims the fable, knows his right.
A shepherd's Dog, unskill'd in fports,
Pick'd up acquaintance of all forts;
Among the reft a Fox he knew;
By frequent chat their friendship grew.
Says Reynard, ""Tis a cruel cafe,
That man should stigmatize our race.
No doubt, among us rogues you find,
As among dogs, and human kind;

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60

And

And yet (unknown to me and you)
There may be honest men and true.
Thus flander tries whate'er it can
To put us on the foot with man.
Let my own actions recommend;
No prejudice can blind a friend :
You know me free from all disguise;
My honour as my life I prize."

By talk like this, from all miftrust
The Dog was cur'd, and thought him just.
As on a time the Fox held forth
On confcience, honefty, and worth,
Sudden he ftopp'd; he cock'd his ear;
Low dropt his brushy tail with fear.
"Blefs us! the hunters are abroad:

What's all that clatter on the road !"

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7。

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80

"Hold, fays the Dog, we 're fafe from harm,

'Twas nothing but a falfe alarm.

At yonder town 'tis market-day;

Some farmer's wife is on the way;

'Tis fo (I know her pyebald mare),

Dame Dobbins with her poultry-ware."

Reynard grew huff. Says he, "This incer

From you I little thought to hear:

Your meaning in your looks I fee.

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Pray, what's Dame Dobbins, friend, to me? 90

Did I e'er make her poultry thinner!

Prove that I owe the dame a dinner."

"Friend, quoth the Cur, I meant no harm;

Then why fo captious? why fo warm ?

My

My words, in common acceptation,
Could never give this provocation.

No lamb (for aught I ever knew)
May be more innocent than you."

At this, gall'd Reynard wine'd, and fwore
Such language ne'er was given before.

"What's lamb to me? this faucy hint
Shows me, bafe Knave, which way you squint.
If th' other night your mafter loft

Three lambs, am 1 to pay the coft?

Your vile reflections would imply

That I'm the thief. You Dog, you lye."

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"Thou knave, thou fool! (the Dog reply'd) The name is juft, take either fide;

Thy guilt thefe applications fpeak :

Sirrah, 'tis confcience makes

you fqueak."
So faying, on the Fox he flies:
The felf-convicted felon dies..

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110

THE VULTURE, THE SPARROW, AND OTHER BIRDS.

ER

To a Friend in the Country.

RE I begin, I muft premife,
Our minifters are good and wife;
So, though malicious tongues apply,
Pray what care they, or what care I?
If I am free with courts, be 't known,

I ne'er prefume to mean our own.

S

If

If general morals seem to joke
On minifters, and fuch-like folk,

A captious fool may take offence ;
What then? He knows his own pretence.
I meddle with no state-affairs,
But fpare my jeft to fave my ears.
Our present schemes are too profound,
For Machiavel himself to found:
To cenfure them I 'ave no pretenfion;
I own they 're paft my comprehenfion.

You fay your brother wants a place, ('Tis many a younger brother's cafe); And that he very foon intends

To ply the court, and teaze his friends.
If there his merits chance to find
A patriot of an open mind,

Whose constant actions prove him just
To both a king's and people's truft,
May he, with gratitude, attend,
And owe his rife to fuch a friend!

You praife his parts, for business fit,

His learning, probity, and wit;

But thofe alone will never do,

Unless his patron have them too.

I 'ave heard of times (pray God defend us!
We're not fo good but he can mend us)
When wicked minifters have trod
On kings and people, law and God;
With arrogance they girt the throne,
And knew no intereft but their own.

Then virtue, from preferment barr'd,

Gets nothing but its own reward.
knaves attend 'em,

A gang of petty
With proper parts to recommend 'em.

Then, if his patron burn with luft,

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The first in favour's pimp the first.

His doors are never clos'd to fpies,
Who cheer his heart with double lyes;
They flatter him, his foes defame,
So lull the pangs of guilt and shame.
If fchemes of lucre haunt his brain,
Projectors fwell his greedy train;
Vile brokers ply his private ear
With jobs of plunder for the year;
All confciences must bend and ply;
You must vote on, and not know why:
Through thick and thin you muft go on;
One fcruple, and your place is gone.

Since plagues like thefe have curs'd a Jand,
And favourites cannot always ftand,
Good courtiers should for change be ready,
And not have principles too steady;
For, should a knave engross the power,
(God fhield the realm from that fad hour!)
He must have rogues or flavish fools;
For what 's a knave without his tools?

Wherever thofe a people drain,
And ftrut with infamy and gain,
I envy not their guilt and state,
And fcorn to fhare the public hate.