 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
FABLE XII. THE BOAR AND FOREST.
A Lion, generous and brave,
For wars renown'd, belov'd in peace;
His lands in royal bounties gave,
And treasures much impair'd by acts of grace.
For wars renown'd, belov'd in peace;
His lands in royal bounties gave,
And treasures much impair'd by acts of grace.
His ministers whole realms obtain'd;
And courtiers, much inclin'd to want,
His manors begg'd, and forfeits gain'd,
With patents to confirm the royal grant.
And courtiers, much inclin'd to want,
His manors begg'd, and forfeits gain'd,
With patents to confirm the royal grant.
The Boar, to shew a subject's love,
Crav'd for the public good a boon,
His ancient forest to improve,
By felling trees, and cutting timber down.
Crav'd for the public good a boon,
His ancient forest to improve,
By felling trees, and cutting timber down.
“Alcoves and shady walks, quoth he,
Are laid aside, become a jest;
Your vistos lofty, wide, and free,
Are à la mode, and only in request.”
Are laid aside, become a jest;
Your vistos lofty, wide, and free,
Are à la mode, and only in request.”
The grant being pass'd, the ravenous Boar,
A desert of the forest made:
Up by the roots vast oaks he tore,
And low on earth the princely cedars laid.
A desert of the forest made:
Up by the roots vast oaks he tore,
And low on earth the princely cedars laid.
This act of violence and wrong
Alarum'd all the savage race;
With loud complaints to court they throng,
Stripp'd of their shades, and ancient resting-place.
Alarum'd all the savage race;
With loud complaints to court they throng,
Stripp'd of their shades, and ancient resting-place.
With generous rage the Lion shook,
And vow'd the Boar should dearly pay;
“I hate, quoth he, a down-cast look,
That robs the public in a friendly way.
And vow'd the Boar should dearly pay;
“I hate, quoth he, a down-cast look,
That robs the public in a friendly way.
“Unhappy groves, my empire's pride!
Lov'd solitudes, ye shades divine!
The rage of tempests ye defy'd,
Condemn'd to perish by a sordid swine.
Lov'd solitudes, ye shades divine!
The rage of tempests ye defy'd,
Condemn'd to perish by a sordid swine.
“Ye rural deities, and powers unknown,
What can so great a loss suffice!
If a hung brawner will atone,
Accept friend Chucky for a sacrifice.”
What can so great a loss suffice!
If a hung brawner will atone,
Accept friend Chucky for a sacrifice.”
THE MORAL.
The British oak's our nation's strength and pride,
With which triumphant o'er the main we ride;
Insulting foes are by our navies aw'd,
A guard at home, our dreaded power abroad.
With which triumphant o'er the main we ride;
Insulting foes are by our navies aw'd,
A guard at home, our dreaded power abroad.
Like druids then your forests sacred keep,
Preserve with them your empire of the deep.
Subjects their prince's bounty oft abuse,
And spoil the public for their private use;
But no rapacious hand should dare deface,
The royal stores of a well-timber'd chase.
Preserve with them your empire of the deep.
Subjects their prince's bounty oft abuse,
And spoil the public for their private use;
But no rapacious hand should dare deface,
The royal stores of a well-timber'd chase.
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |