FABLE XL. The Fox and Wolf:
Or, The Treason lov'd, the Traitor hated.
A
Wolf, with Prey too plentifully fed,
Inclin'd to Rest, lay stretch'd along his Bed.
A wily Fox, insidiously bent,
Approach'd, and ask'd him what that Posture meant:
The Wolf (that had his Den with Plenty stor'd,
And smelt a shrewd Design upon his Hoard)
Reply'd, He did of longer Life despair,
And earnestly desir'd the Fox's Pray'r.
Reynard, displeas'd at his successless Train,
Betray'd the Covert to a neighb'ring Swain:
Who found the Wolf where he supinely lay,
And made his Life for former Mischiefs pay.
Isgrim dispatch'd, the Fox possess'd his Spoil,
Enrich'd, by Treach'ry, without Care or Toil;
But e're the ill-got Prize he long enjoy'd,
Dy'd by the Hand that had his Friend destroy'd.
The MORAL.
‘Men, at their Neighbour's Fortune envious grown,
‘Pursuing his Enjoyments, lose their own;
‘While they on gainful Treachery depend,
‘They meet their due Reward, and miss their End.
‘For they who most the pleasing Treason love,
‘Do most the hateful Traytor disapprove.
‘Since he that will, for Gain, betray his Friend,
‘Wou'd ruin Mankind, for that sordid End.
