Part 2

By nature's author thus declar'd The woman's sov'reign and her guard: Shall man, by treach'rous wiles invade The weakness he was meant to aid? While beauty, given to inspire Protecting love and soft desire, Lights up a wild-fire in the heart, And to its own breast points the dart, Becomes the spoiler's base pretence To triumph over innocence!

The wolf, that tears the tim'rous sheep, Was never set the fold to keep; Nor was the tiger, or the pard, Meant the benighted trav'ller's guard: But man, the wildest beast of prey, Wears friendship's semblance to betray; His strength against the weak employs, And where he should protect, destroys.

Past twelve o'clock, the watchman cry'd, His brief the studious LAWYER ply'd; The all-prevailing fee lay nigh, The earnest of to-morrow's lie; Sudden the furious winds arise, The jarring casement shatter'd flies; The doors admit a hollow sound, And rattling from their hinges bound; When JUSTICE, in a blaze of light, Reveal'd her radiant form to sight.

The wretch with thrilling horror shook, Loose ev'ry joint, and pale his look, Not having seen her in the courts, Or found her mentioned in reports, He ask'd, with falt'ring tongue, her name, Her errand there, and whence she came?

Sternly the white-rob'd shade reply'd, (A crimson glow her visage dy'd) Canst thou be doubtful who I am? Is JUSTICE grown so strange a name? Were not your courts for JUSTICE rais'd? 'Twas there of old my altars blaz'd. My guardian thee did I elect, My sacred temple to protect; That thou, and all thy venal tribe, Should spurn the goddess for a bribe! Aloud the ruin'd client cries, JUSTICE has neither ears nor eyes! In foul alliance with the bar, 'Gainst me the judge denounces war, And rarely issues his decree, But with intent to baffle me.

She paus'd. Her breast with fury burn'd; The trembling LAWYER thus return'd: I own the charge is justly laid, And weak th' excuse that can be made; Yet search the spacious globe, and see If all mankind are not like me. The GOWN-MAN, skill'd in ROMISH lies, By FAITH'S false glass deludes our eyes; O'er conscience rides without controul, And robs the man, to save his soul.

The DOCTOR, with important face, By sly design mistakes the case; Prescribes, and spins out the disease, To trick the patient of his fees.-- The SOLDIER, rough with many a scar, And red with slaughter, leads the war; If he a nation's trust betray, The foe has offer'd double pay.

When vice o'er all mankind prevails, And weighty int'rest turns the scales, Must I be better than the rest, And harbour JUSTICE in my breast? On one side only take the fee, Content with poverty and thee?

Thou blind to sense, and vile of mind, Th' exasperated shade rejoin'd, If virtue from the world is flown, Will others faults excuse thy own? For sickly souls the priest was made; PHYSICIANS for the body's aid; The SOLDIER guarded liberty; Man, woman, and the LAWYER me: If all are faithless to their trust, They leave not thee the less unjust. Henceforth your pleadings I disclaim, And bar the sanction of my name; Within your courts it shall be read, That JUSTICE from the law is fled.

She spoke; and hid in shades her face, 'Till HARDWICK sooth'd her into grace.

FABLE IX.

THE FARMER, THE SPANIEL, AND THE CAT.

Why knits my dear her angry brow? What rude offence alarms you now? I said, that DELIA'S fair; 'tis true, But did I say she equall'd you? Can't I another's face commend, Or to her virtues be a friend, But instantly your forehead lours, As if her merit lessen'd your's? From female envy never free, All must be blind, because you see.

Survey the gardens, fields, and bow'rs, The buds, the blossoms, and the flow'rs, Then tell me where the woodbine grows That vies in sweetness with the rose? Or where the lily's snowy white, That throws such beauties on the sight? Yet folly is it to declare, That these are neither sweet nor fair. The crystal shines with fainter rays Before the di'mond's brighter blaze; And fops will say, the di'mond dies Before the lustre of your eyes: But I, who deal in truth, deny That neither shine when you are by.

When zephyrs o'er the blossoms stray, And sweets along the air convey, Shan't I the fragrant breeze inhale, Because you breathe a sweeter gale?

Sweet are the flow'rs that deck the field, Sweet is the smell the blossoms yield; Sweet is the summer gale that blows, And sweet (though sweeter you) the rose.

Shall envy then torment your breast, If you are lovelier than the rest? For while I give to each her due, By praising them I flatter you; And praising most, I still declare You fairest, where the rest are fair.

As at his board a FARMER sate, Replenish'd by his homely treat, His fav'rite SPANIEL near him stood, And with his master shar'd the food; The crackling bones his jaws devour'd, His lapping tongue the trenchers scour'd; Till, sated now, supine he lay, And snor'd the rising fumes away.

The hungry CAT, in turn, drew near, And humbly crav'd a servant's share; Her modest worth the master knew, And straight the fatt'ning morsel threw; Enrag'd, the snarling cur awoke, And thus, with spiteful envy, spoke:

They only claim a right to eat, Who earn by services their meat; Me, zeal and industry inflame, To scour the fields, and spring the game; Or, plunged in the wat'ry wave, For man the wounded bird to save. With watchful diligence I keep, From prowling wolves, his fleecy sheep; At home, his midnight hours secure, And drive the robber from the door. For this his breast with kindness glows; For this his hand the food bestows; And shall thy indolence impart A warmer friendship to his heart; That thus he robs me of my due, To pamper such vile things as you?

I own (with meekness, PUSS reply'd) Superior merit on your side; Nor does my breast with envy swell, To find it recompens'd so well; Yet I, in what my nature can, Contribute to the good of man. Whose claws destroy the pilf'ring mouse? Who drives the vermin from the house? Or, watchful for the lab'ring swain, From lurking rats secure the grain? From hence, if he rewards bestow, Why should your heart with gall o'erflow? Why pine my happiness to see, Since there's enough for you and me?

Thy words are just, the FARMER cry'd, And spurn'd the snarler from his side.

FABLE X.

THE SPIDER AND THE BEE.

The nymph who walks the public streets, And sets her cap at all she meets, May catch the fool who turns to stare; But men of sense avoid the snare.

As on the margin of the flood, With silken line, my LYDIA stood, I smil'd to see the pains you took, To cover o'er the fraudful hook. Along the forest as we stray'd, You saw the boy his lime-twigs spread; Guess'd you the reason of his fear, Lest, heedless, we approach'd too near? For as behind the bush we lay, The linnet flutter'd on the spray.

Needs there such caution to delude The scaly fry, and feather'd brood? And think you, with inferior art, To captivate the human heart? The maid who modestly conceals Her beauties, while she hides, reveals; Give but a glimpse, and FANCY draws Whate'er the GRECIAN VENUS was. From EVE'S first fig-leaf to brocade, All dress was meant for FANCY'S aid, Which evermore delighted dwells On what the bashful nymph conceals.

When CELIA struts in man's attire, She shews too much to raise desire; But from the hoop's bewitching round, Her very shoe has power to wound. The roving eye, the bosom bare, The forward laugh, the wanton air, May catch the fop, for gudgeons strike At the bare hook, and bait, alike; While SALMON play regardless by, Till ART, like NATURE, forms the fly.

Beneath a PEASANT'S homely thatch, A SPIDER long had held her watch; From morn to night, with restless care, She spun her web, and wove her snare. Within the limits of her reign Lay many a hidden captive, slain; Or, flutt'ring, struggled in the toils To burst the chains, and shun her wiles. A straying BEE, that perch'd hard by, Beheld her with disdainful eye; And thus began:--Mean thing! give o'er, And lay thy slender threads no more; A thoughtless FLY or two, at most, Is all the conquest thou canst boast; For BEES of sense thy arts evade, We see so plain the nets are laid.

The gaudy TULIP, that displays Her spreading foliage to the gaze, That points her charms at all she sees, And yields to ev'ry wanton BREEZE, Attracts not me. Where blushing grows, Guarded with thorns, the modest ROSE, Enamour'd round and round I fly, Or on her fragrant bosom lie; Reluctant, she my ardour meets, And, bashful, renders up her sweets.

To wiser heads attention lend, And learn this lesson from a friend: She, who with modesty retires, Adds fuel to her lover's fires; While such incautious jilts as you, By folly your own schemes undo.

FABLE XI.

THE YOUNG LION AND THE APE.

'Tis true, I blame your lover's choice, Tho' flatter'd by the public voice, And peevish grow, and sick, to hear His exclamations, O how fair! I listen not to wild delights, And transports of expected nights; What is to me your hoard of charms, The whiteness of your neck and arms? Needs there no acquisition more, To keep contention from the door? Yes! pass a fortnight, and you'll find All beauty cloys but of the mind.

Sense and good humour ever prove The surest cords to fasten love. Yet, PHILLIS, simplest of your sex, You never think, but to perplex; Coquetting it with ev'ry APE, That struts abroad in human shape; Not that the coxcomb is your taste, But that it stings your lover's breast. To-morrow you resign the sway, Prepar'd to honour and obey; The tyrant-mistress chang'd for life To the submission of a wife. Your follies, if you can, suspend, And learn instructions from a friend. Reluctant hear the first address, Think often, ere you answer, yes; But once resolv'd, throw off disguise, And wear your wishes in your eyes. With caution ev'ry look forbear, That might create one jealous fear, A lover's rip'ning hopes confound, Or give the gen'rous breast a wound; Contemn the girlish arts to teaze, Nor use your pow'r unless to please; For fools alone with rigour sway, When, soon or late, they must obey.

The KING OF BRUTES, in life's decline, Resolv'd dominion to resign; The beasts were summon'd to appear, And bend before the royal heir. They came; a day was fix'd; the crowd Before their future monarch bow'd.

A dapper MONKEY, pert and vain, Step'd forth, and thus address'd the train:

Why cringe, my friends, with slavish awe, Before this pageant king of straw? Shall we anticipate the hour, And, ere we feel it, own his pow'r? The counsels of experience prize, I know the maxims of the wise; Subjection let us cast away, And live the monarchs of to-day; 'Tis ours the vacant hand to spurn, And play the tyrant each in turn; So shall he right from wrong discern, And mercy, from oppression, learn; At others woes be taught to melt, And loath the ills himself has felt.

He spoke; his bosom swell'd with pride, The youthful LION thus reply'd:

What madness prompts thee to provoke My wrath, and dare th' impending stroke? Thou wretched fool! can wrongs impart Compassion to the feeling heart? Or teach the grateful breast to glow, The hand to give, or eye to flow? Learn'd in the practice of their schools, From woman thou hast drawn thy rules; To them return, in such a cause, From only such expect applause; The partial sex I don't condemn, For liking those who copy them.

Would'st thou the gen'rous LION bind, By kindness bribe him to be kind; Good offices their likeness get, And payment lessens not the debt: With multiplying hand he gives The good from others he receives; Or for the bad makes fair return, And pays, with int'rest, scorn for scorn.

FABLE XII.

THE COLT AND THE FARMER.

Tell 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 spurn her laws? And, miser-like, withhold that store, Which, by imparting, blesses more? Beauty's a gift, by heav'n assign'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 rust, or TIME to steal? The summer of your youth to rove, 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, lest 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 sooth'd with pray'r; Of freedom proud, and scorning man, Wide o'er the spacious plains he ran. Where'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 pass'd, Revolving winter came at last; The trees no more a shelter yield; The verdure withers from the field; Perpetual snows invest the ground, In icy chains the streams are bound, Cold nipping winds, and rattling hail, His lank, unshelter'd sides assail.

As round he cast his rueful eyes, He saw the thatch-roof'd cottage rise; The prospect touch'd his heart with cheer, And promis'd kind deliv'rance near. A stable, erst his scorn and hate, Was now become his wish'd retreat; 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 weight, And friendly to the stable led, And saw him litter'd, dress'd, and fed. In slothful ease all night he lay; The servants rose 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 sighing said, By arrogance and folly led; Had but my restive youth been brought To learn the lesson NATURE taught, Then had I, like my sires of yore, The prize from ev'ry 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.

FABLE XIII.

THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

To know the MISTRESS'S 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 court'sey going out, Depend upon't, MAMMA is one Who reads, or drinks, too much alone.

If bottled beer her thirst assuage, She feels enthusiastic rage, And burns with ardour to inherit The gifts and workings of the spirit. 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 she vaunts, And twits her husband with his wants; Her ragged offspring all around, Like pigs, are wallowing on the ground. Impatient ever of controul, And knows no order but of soul; With books her litter'd floor is spread, With nameless authors never read; Foul linen, petticoats, and lace, Fill up the intermediate space. Abroad, at visitings, her tongue Is never still, and always wrong; All meanings she defines away, And stands with truth and sense at bay.

If e'er she meets a gentle heart, 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, puff'd up with self-conceit, Lov'd learning better than his meat; Old manuscripts he treasur'd up, And rummag'd ev'ry grocer's shop; At pastry-cooks was known to ply, And strip, for science, ev'ry pie. 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 ev'ry art and science, His daring genius bid defiance, And swallow'd wisdom with that haste That cits do custards at a feast.

Within the shelter of a wood, One evening, 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 song.

Pert, busy thing! thy airs give o'er, And let my contemplation soar-- What is the music of thy voice, But jarring dissonance and noise? Be wise--True harmony thou'lt find Not in the throat, but in the mind; By empty chirping not attain'd, But by laborious study gain'd. Go, read the authors POPE explodes, Fathom the depth of CIBBER'S odes; With modern plays improve thy wit, Read all the learning HENLEY writ, And if thou needs must sing, sing 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; Ask 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 senseless authors me molest, I mind the duties of my nest; With careful wing protect my young, And cheer their ev'nings with a song; Make short the weary trav'ller's way, And warble in the poet's lay.

Thus, following nature, and her laws, From men and birds I claim applause, While, nurs'd in pedantry and sloth, An OWL is scorn'd alike by both.

FABLE XIV.

THE SPARROW AND THE DOVE.

It was, as learn'd traditions say, Upon an APRIL'S blithsome day, 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 saucy ease bow'd round.

For every she his bosom burns, And this, and that, he woos by turns; And here a sigh, and there a bill, And here--those eyes! so 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 sex much better; But these he held as specious arts, To shew 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 a day; With careless impudence drew near, And whisper'd HEBREW in her ear: A hint which, like the MASON'S sign, The conscience 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 she glided like a swallow, As saying--you guess where to follow.

To such as know the party set, 'Tis needless to say where 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 rush'd, licentious, on the joy.

'Hist, love!' the male companion cry'd, 'Retire awhile, I fear we're 'spy'd:' Nor was the caution vain; he saw A TURTLE rustling in the straw, While o'er her callow brood she hung, And fondly thus address'd her young:

"Ye tender objects of my care! Peace, peace, ye little helpless pair; Anon he comes, your gentle sire, And brings you all your hearts require. For us, his infants and his bride, For us, with only love to guide, Our lord assumes an EAGLE'S speed, And, like a LION, dares to bleed. Nor yet by wintry skies confin'd, He mounts upon the rudest 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 lost were I, Who in the thought already die!

"Ye pow'rs, who 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 ev'ry 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, suppress'd The virtue rising in his breast; And, first, he feign'd to laugh aloud, And next, approaching, smil'd and bow'd.

'MADAM, you must not think me rude, Good manners never can intrude; I vow I came through pure good-nature; (Upon my soul a charming creature!) Are these the comforts of a wife? This careful, cloister'd, moping life? No doubt, that odious thing, call'd duty, Is a sweet province 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.'