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I traverse all the house and play

THE APE, THE PARROT, AND THE My tricks and gambols ev'ry day:

I

JACKDAW.

HOLD it rash at any time

To deal with fools dispos'd to rhyme;
Dissuasive arguments provoke
Their utmost rage as soon as spoke:
Encourage them, and for a day
Or two you're safe by giving way;

But when they find themselves betray'd,
On you at last the blame is laid.

They hate and scorn you as a traitor,
The common lot of those who flatter:
But can a scribbler, sir, be shunn'd?
What will you do when teas'd and dunn'd?
When watch'd, and caught, and closely press'd,
When complimented and caress'd,
When Bavius greets you with a bow,
"Sir, please to read a line or two;"
If you approve and say they're clever,
"You make me happy, sir, for ever."
What can be done? the case is plain,
No methods of escape remain:
You're fairly noos'd, and must consent
To bear, what nothing can prevent,
A coxcomb's anger; and your fate
Will be to suffer soon or late.

An ape that was the sole delight
Of an old woman day and night,
Indulg'd at table and in bed,
Attended like a child and fed:

Who knew each trick, and twenty more
Than ever monkey play'd before,
At last grew frantic and wou'd try,
In spite of nature's laws, to fly.
Oft from the window wou'd he view
The passing swallows as they flew,
Observe them fluttering round the walls,
Or gliding o'er the smooth canals:
He too must fly, and cope with these;
For this and nothing else wou'd please:
Oft thinking from the window's height,
Three stories down to take his flight:
He still was something loth to venture,
As tending strongly to the centre :
And knowing that the least mistake
Might cost a limb, perhaps his neck.
The case you'll own was something nice;
He thought it best to ask advice;
And to the parrot straight applying,
Allow'd to be a judge of flying,

He thus began: "You'll think me rude,
Forgive me if I do intrude,

For you alone my doubts can clear
In something that concerns me near:
Do you imagine, if I try,
That I shall e'er attain to fly?
The project's whimsical, no doubt,
But ere you censure hear me out:
That liberty's our greatest blessing
You'll grant me without farther pressing;
To live confin'd, 'tis plain and clear,
Is something very hard to bear:
This you must know, who for an age
Have been kept pris'ner in a cage,
Deny'd the privilege to soar
With boundless freedom as before.
I have, 'tis true, much greater scope
Than you my friend, can ever hope;

Oft with my mistress in a chair
I ride abroad to take the air;
Make visits with her, walk at large,

A maid or footman's constant charge.
Yet this is noth ng, for I find
Myself still hamper'd and confin'd;
A grov'ling thing: I fain would rise
Above the Earth and mount the skies:
The meanest birds, and insects too,
This feat with greatest ease can do.
To that gay creature turn about
That's beating on the pane without;
Ten days ago, perhaps but five,
A worm, it scarcely seem'd alive:
By threads suspended, tough and small,
'Midst dusty cobwebs on a wall;
Now dress'd in all the diffrent dyes
That vary in the ev'ning skies,
He soars at large, and on the wing
Enjoys with freedom all the spring;
Skims the fresh lakes, and rising sees
Beneath him far the loftiest trees;
And when he rests, he makes his bow'r
The cup of some delicious flow'r.
Shall creatures so obscurely bred,
On mere corruption nurs'd and fed,
A glorious privilege obtain,
Which I can never hope to gain?
Shall I, like man's imperial race
In manners, customis, shape and face,
Expert in all ingenious tricks,

To tumble, dance, and leap o'er sticks;
Who know to sooth and coax my betters,
And match a beau, at least in letters;
Shall I despair, and never try
(What meanest insects can) to fly?
Say, mayn't I without dread or care
At once commit me to the air,
And not fall down and break my bones
Upon those hard and flinty stones?
Say, if to stir my limbs before
Will make me glide along or soar?
All things they say are learn'd by trying;
No doubt it is the same with flying.
I wait your judgment with respect,
And shall proceed as you direct."

Poor Poll, with gen'rous pity mov'd,
The Ape's fond rashness thus reprov'd:
For, though instructed by mankind,
Her tongue to candour still inclin'd.

66

My friend, the privilege to rise
Above the Earth and mount the skies,
Is glorious sure, and 'tis my fate
To feel the want on't with regret;

A pris'ner to a cage confin'd,

Though wing'd and of the flying kind.
With you the case is not the same,
You 're quite terrestrial by your frame,
And shou'd be perfectly content
With your peculiar element:
You have no wings, I pray reflect,
To lift you and your course direct;
Those arms of yours will never do,
Not twenty in the place of two;
They ne'er can lift you from the ground,
For broad and long, they're thick and round;
And therefore if you choose the way,

To leap the window, as you say,

'Tis certain that you'll be the jest
Of every insect, bird and beast,
When you lie batter'd by your fall
Just at the bottom of the wall.
Be prudent then, improve the pow'rs
Which nature gives in place of ours.
You'll find them readily conduce
At once to pleasure and to use.
But airy whims and crotchets lead
To certain loss, and ne'er succeed:
As folks, though inly vex'd and teas'd,
Will oft seem satisfy'd and pleas'd."

The ape approv'd of every word,
At this time utter'd by the bird:
But nothing in opinion chang'd,
Thought only how to be reveng'd.
It happen'd when the day was fair,
That Poll was set to take the air,
Just where the monkey oft sat poring
About experiments in soaring:
Dissembling his contempt and rage,
He stept up softly to the cage,
And with a sly malicious grin,
Accosted thus the bird within.

"You say, I am not form'd for flight; In this you certainly are right; 'T's very plain upon reflection, But to yourself there's no objection, Since flying is the very trade

For which the winged race is made;
And therefore for our mutual sport,
I'll make you fly, you can't be hurt."
With that he slyly slipt the string
Which held the cage up by the ring.
In vain the parrot begg'd and pray'd,
No word was minded that she said;
Down went the cage, and on the ground
Bruis'd and half-dead poor Poll was found.
Pug who for some time had attended
To that alone which now was ended,
Again had leisure to pursue
The project he had first in view.

Quoth he, "A person if he's wise
Will only with his friends advise,
They know his temper and his parts,
And bave his interest near their hearts.
In matters which he should forbear,
They'll hold him back with prudent care,
But never from an envious spirit
Forbid him to display his merit;

Or judging wrong, from spleen and hate
His talents slight or underrate:
I acted sure with small reflection
In asking counsel and direction
From a sly minion whom I know
To be my rival and my foe:
One who will constantly endeavour
To hurt me in our lady's favour,
And watch and plot to keep me down,
From obvious interests of her own:
But on the top of that old tow'r
An honest daw has made his bow'r ;
A faithful friend whom one may trust,
My debtor too for many a crust;
Which in the window oft I lay
For him to come and take away:
From gratitude no doubt he'll give
Such counsel as I may receive;

Well back'd with reasons strong and plain
To push me forward or restrain."

One morning when the daw appear'd, The project was propos'd and heard: And though the bird was much surpris'd To find friend Pug so ill advis'd, He rather chose that he shou'd try At his own proper risk to fly, Than hazard, in a case so nice, To shock him by too free advice.

Quoth he, "I'm certain that you'll find The project answer to your mind; Without suspicion, dread or care, At once commit you to the air; Yo'll soar aloft, or, if you please, Proceed straight forwards at your ease: The whole depends on resolution, Which you possess from constitution; And if you follow as. I lead,

'Tis past a doubt you must succeed."

So saying, from the turret's height The Jack-daw shot with downward flight, And on the edge of a canal,

Some fifty paces from the wall,
'Lighted obsequious to attend

The monkey when he should descend:
But he, altho' he had believ'd
The flatterer and was deceiv'd,
Felt some misgivings at his heart
In vent'ring on so new an art :
But yet at last, 'tween hope and fear,
Himself he trusted to the air;
But far'd like him whom poets mention
With Dedalus's old invention :
Directly downwards on his head
He fell, and lay an hour for dead.
The various creatures in the place,
Had diff'rent thoughts upon the case,
From some his fate compassion drew,
But those I must confess were few;
The rest esteem'd him rightly serv'd,
And in the manner he deserv'd,

For playing tricks beyond his sphere,
Nor thought the punishment severe.
They gather'd round him as he lay,
And jeer'd him when he limp'd away.

Pug, disappointed thus and hurt,
And grown besides the public sport,
Found all his different passions change
At once to fury and revenge:
The daw 'twas useless to pursue ; '
His helpless brood, as next in view,
With unrelenting paws he seiz'd,
One's neck he wrung, another squeez'd,
Till of the number four or five,
No single bird was left alive.

1

Thus counsellors, in all regards

Though different, meet with like rewards,
The story shows the certain fate
Of every mortal soon or late,
Whose evil genius for his crimes
Connects with any fop that rhymes.

THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW. DECLARE, ye sages, if ye find 'Mongst animals of ev'ry kind, Of each condition, sort, and size, From whales and elephants to flies, A creature that mistakes his plan, And errs so constantly as man?

.

Each kind pursues his proper good,
And seeks for pleasure, rest, and food,
As nature points, and never errs
In what it chooses and prefers;
Man only blunders, though possest
Of talents far above the rest.

Descend to instances and try;
An ox will scarce attempt to fly,
Or leave his pasture in the wood,
With fishes to explore the flood.
Man only acts, of every creature,
In opposition to his nature.
The happiness of human kind,
Consists in rectitude of mind,
A will subdu'd to reason's sway,
And passions practis'd to obey;
An open and a gen'rous heart,
Refin'd from selfishness and art;
Patience which mocks at fortune's pow'r,
And wisdom never sad nor sour:
In these consist our proper bliss;
Else Plato reasons much amiss:
But foolish mortals still pursue
False happiness in place of true;
Ambition serves us for a guide,
Or lust, or avarice, or pride;
While reason no assent can gain,
And revelation warns in vain.

Hence through our lives, in every stage,
From infancy itself to age,
A happiness we toil to find,
Which still avoids us like the wind;

Ev'n when we think the prize our own,
At once 'tis vanish'd, lost, and gone.
You'll ask me why I thus rehearse
All Epictetus in my verse,
And if I fondly hope to please
With dry reflections such as these,
So trite, so hackney'd, and so stale?
I'll take the hint and tell a tale.

One evening as a simple swain
His flock attended on the plain,
The shining bow he chanc'd to spy,
Which warns us when a show'r is nigh;
With brightest rays it seem'd to glow,
Its distance eighty yards or so.
This bumpkin had it seems been told
The story of the cup of gold,
Which Fame reports is to be found
Just where the rainbow meets the ground;
He therefore felt a sudden itch
To seize the goblet and be rich;
Hoping, (yet hopes are oft but vain):
No more to toil through wind and rain,
But sit indulging by the fire,
'Midst ease and plenty, like a 'squire:
He mark'd the very spot of land
On which the rainbow seem'd to stand,
And stepping forwards at his leisure
Expected to have found the treasure.
But as he mov'd, the colour'd ray
Still chang'd its place and slipt away,
As seeming his approach to shun;
From walking he began to run,
But all in vain, it still withdrew
As nimbly as he cou'd pursue;
At last through many a bog and lake,
Rough craggy road and thorny brake,
It led the easy fool, till night
Approach'd, then vanish'd in his sight,

And left him to compute his gains, With nought but labour for his pains.

CELIA AND HER MIRROR.
As there are various sorts of minds,
So friendships are of diffrent kinds :
Some, constant when the object's near,
Soon vanish if it disappear.
Another sort, with equal flame,
In absence will be still the same :
Some folks a trifle will provoke,
Their weak attachment soon is broke;
Some great offences only move
To change in friendship or in love.
Affection, when it has its source

In things that shift and change of course,
As these diminish and decay,

Must likewise fade and melt away.
But when 'tis of a nobler kind,
Inspir'd by rectitude of mind,
Whatever accident arrives,

It lives, and death itself survives;
Those different kinds reduc'd to two,
False friendship may be call'd, and true.
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,
And by a celebrated hand.

Says one, "That picture sure must strike,
In all respects it is so like;

Your very features, shape and air
Express'd, believe me, to a hair:

The price I'm sure cou'd not be small,”-
"Just fifty guineas frame and all."-
"That mirror there is wond'rous fine."-
"I own the bauble cost me nine;
I'm fairly cheated you may swear,
For never was a thing so dear."-
"Dear!"-quoth the looking-glass-and spoke,
"Madam, it wou'd a saint provoke:
Must that same gaudy thing be own'd
A pennyworth at fifty pound;
While I at nine am reckon'd dear,
'Tis what I never thought to hear.
Let both our merits now be try'd,
This fair assembly shall decide;
And I will prove it to your face,
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
Your whole variety of dress:

From morn to noon, from noon to night,

I watch each change and paint it right;
Besides I'm mistress of the art,
Which conquers and secures a heart.
I teach you how to use those arms,
That vary and assist your charms,
And in the triumphs of the fair,
Claim half the merit for my share:
So when the truth is fairly told,
I'm worth at least my weight in gold;
But that vain thing of which you speak
Becomes quite useless in a week.
For, though it had no other vice,
'Tis out of fashion in a trice:

The cap is chang'd, the cloke, the gown;
It must no longer stay in town;
But goes in course to hide a wall
With others in your country-hall."
The mirror thus:-the nymph reply'd,
"Your merit cannot be deny'd:
The portrait too, I must confess,
In some respects has vastly less.
But you yourself will freely grant
That it has virtues which you want.
'Tis certain that you can express
My shape, my features, and my dress,
Not just as well, but better too
Than Kneller once or Ramsay now.
But that same image in your heart
Which thus excels the painter's art,
The shortest absence can deface,
And put a monkey's in its place:
That other which the canvas bears,
Unchang'd and constant, lasts for years,
Wou'd keep its lustre and its bloom
Though it were here and I at Rome.
When age and sickness shall invade
Those youthful charms and make them fade,
You'll soon perceive it, and reveal
What partial friendship shou'd conceal:
You'll tell me, in your usual way,

Of furrow'd cheeks and locks grown gray;
Your gen'rous rival, not so cold,
Will ne'er suggest that I am old;
Nor mark when time and slow disease
Have stol'n the graces wont to please;
But keep my image to be seen
In the full blossom of sixteen:
Bestowing freely all the praise
I merited in better days.

You will (when I am turn'd to dust,
For beauties die, as all things must,
And you remember but by seeing)
Forget that e'er I had a being :
But in that picture I shall live,
My charms shall death itself survive,
And figur'd by the pencil there
Tell that your mistress once was fair,
Weigh each advantage and defect,
The portrait merits most respect:
Your qualities would recommend
A servant rather than a friend;
But service sure, in every case,
To friendship yields the higher place."

THE FISHERMEN.
IMITATED FROM THEOCRITES.

By all the sages 'tis confest
That hope when moderate is best:
But when indulg'd beyond due measure,
It yields a vain deceitful pleasure,
Which cheats the simple, and betrays
To mischief in a thousand ways:
Just hope assists in all our toils,
The wheels of industry it oils;
In great attempts the bosom fires,
And zeal and constancy inspires.
False hope, like a deceitful dream,
Rests on some visionary scheme,
And keeps us idle to our loss,
Enchanted with our hands across.

A tale an ancient bard has told
Of two poor fishermen 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'other.
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 flood:
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 wife;
Two walls were rock, and two were sand,
Ramm'd up with stakes and made to stand.
A roof hung threat'ning o'er their heads
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 door.
Their beds were leaves; against the wall
A sail hung drying, yard and all.
On one side lay an old patch'd wherry
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 spit nor pot,
Unless my author has forgot.

Once, some few hours ere 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 confest

No friends to indolence or rest.

"Friend," quoth the drowsy swain, and swore, "What you have done has 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 1 had."

[prove 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,
Or money found by chance: they say,
That hungry foxes dream of prey."

"You're wond'rous shrewd, upon my troth,"
Asphelio cry'd," and right in both:
My dream had gold in't, as you said,
And fishing too, our constant trade;
And since your guess has hit so near,
In short the whole on'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 fish at last appear'd to bite,
The cork div'd quickly out of sight,
And soon the dipping rod I found
With something weighty bent haif 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:"

To bring it safe within my reach
I drew it safely to the beach,
But long ere it had come so near,
The water gleam'd with something clear;
Each passing billow caught the blaze,
And glitt'ring shone with golden rays,
Of hope and expectation full
Impatient, yet afraid to pull,

To shore I slowly brought my prize,
A golden fish of largest size:
'Twas metal all from head to tail,
Quite stiff and glitt'ring ev'ry scale.
Thought I,My fortune now is made;
'Tis time to quit the fishing trade,
And choose some other, where the gains
Are sure, and come for half the pains.
Like creatures of amphibious nature
One hour on land and three in water;
We live 'midst danger, toil and care,
Yet never have a groat to spare:
While others, not expos'd to harm,
Grow rich, though always dry and warm;
This treasure will suffice, and more,
To place me handsomely on shore,
In some snug manor; now a swain,
My steers shall turn the furrow'd plain,
While on a mountain's grassy side
My flocks are past'ring far and wide:
Beside all this, I'll have a seat
Convenient, elegant and neat,
A house not over-great nor small,
Three rooms, a kitchen, and a ball.
'The offices contriv'd with care
And fitted to complete a square:
A garden well laid out; a wife,
To double all the joys of life;
With children prattling at my knees,
Such trifles as are sure to please.'
Those gay designs, and twenty more,
I in my dream was running o'er,
While you, as if you ow'd me spite.
Broke in and put them all to flight,
Blew the whole vision into air,
And left me waking in despair.
Of late we have been poorly fed,
Last night went supperless to bed,
Yet, if I had it in my pow'r
My dream to lengthen for an hour,
The pleasure mounts to such a sum,
I'd fast for fifty yet to come.
Therefore to bid me rise is vain
I'll wink and try to dream again."

"If this," quoth Gripus, "is the way You choose, I've nothing more to say; 'Tis plain that dreams of wealth will serve A person who resolves to starve; But sure, to hug 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 height, Dr 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, Juch pastime cannot well afford; And therefore if you would be wise, Take my advice, for once, and rise."

CUPID AND THE SHEPHERD.

WHO sets his heart on things below,

But little happiness shall know;
For every objeet he pursues
Will vex, deceive him, and abuse:
While he whose hopes and wishes rise
To endless bliss above the skies,

A true felicity shall gain,

With freedom from both care and pain.
He seeks what yields him peace and rest,
Both when in prospect and possest.

A swain, whose flock had gone astray,
Was wand'ring far out of the way
Through deserts wild, and chanc'd to see
A stripling leaning on a tree.
In all things like the human-kind,
But that upon his back behind
Two wings were from his shoulders spread
Of gold and azure ting'd with red;
Their colour like the ev'ning sky:
A golden quiver grac'd his thigh:
His bow unbended in his hand

He held, and wrote with on the sand;
As one whom anxious cares pursue,
In musing oft is wont to do.
He started still with sudden fear,
As if some danger had been near,
And turn'd on every side to view
A flight of birds that round him flew,
Whose presence seem'd to make him sad,
For all were ominous and bad;
The hawk was there, the type of spite,
The jealous owl that shuns the light,
The raven, whose prophetic bill
'Denounces woe and mischief still;
The vulture hungry to devour,
Though gorg'd and glutted ev'ry hour;
With these confus'd an ugly crew
Of harpies, bats, and dragons flew,
With talons arm'd, and teeth, and stings,
The air was darken'd with their wings.
The swain, though frighten'd, yet drow near,
Compassion rose in place of fear;
He to the winged youth begau,—

Say, are you mortal and of man,
Or something of celestial birth,
From Heaven descended to the Earth ?"
"I am not of terestrial kind,"
Quoth Cupid, "nor to Earth confin'd:
Heav'n is my true and proper sphere,
My rest and happiness are there:
Through all the boundless realms of light
The phoenix waits upon my flight,
With other birds whose names are known
In that delightful place alone.
But when to Earth my course I bend,
At once they leave me and ascend;
And for companions, in their stead,
Those winged monsters there succeed,
Who hov'ring round me night and day,
Expect and claim me as their prey."

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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,

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