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5

ÆSOP TO THE KING.

Victorious Prince! Form'd for Supreme Command,
Worthy the Empire of the Seas and Land!
Whilst impious Faction swells with Native Pride,
Parties distract the State, and Church divide!
And Sensless Libels with audacious Stile,
Insult thy Senate, and thy Power revile!
Vouchsafe to hear th'admired Truths of old,
Which Birds and Beasts in Sportive Tales unfold:
To curb the Insolent, advance the Good,
And quell the Ragings of the Multitude.
O fam'd for Arms! and matchless in Renown!
Permit old ÆSOP to approach thy Throne:
To you the labours of his Muse belong,
Accept the humble, but instructive Song.
6

FAB. I. The River and the Fountain.

A river insolent with Pride,
The Fountain and its Springs defi'd:
That Fountain, from whose Watry Bed,
The ungrateful Flood was Daily Fed.
And thus the Rabble Waves began,
We're the delight of Gods and Man!
How charming does our Banks appear!
How Swift the Stream, the Flood how Clear!
See how by Natures bounty Strong,
We whirl our Legion Waves along:
In Soft Meanders winding Play,
And glitter in the Face of Day.
But thou poor Fountain, Silly Soul!
Thy head Absconding in a hole:
Run'st mudling on from place to place,
A sham'd to show thy dirty Face;
In Rocks and gloomy Caverns found,
Thou creep'st inglorious under ground.
D'e hear! henceforth your Lords obey!
We the Grand Waves assume the Sway.
7

Well, angry Sirs, the Fountain cry'd,
And how's your Stream to be Supply'd!
Ye senseless Fools that wou'd command,
Shou'd I withdraw my bounteous hand:
Or backward turn my watry Store,
That hour you'd cease, and be no more.
Go ask that blustering Fop the Wind,
That puts his whimsy in your mind:
And makes your factious Surges rise,
If he'll recruit you with Supplies.
And when to native Mud you turn,
Such as a common Shore woud scorn:
Too late you'll curse this frantick whim,
When Carriers Steeds shall piss a nobler Stream.

The MORAL.

Unhappy Brittain! I deplore thy Fate,
When Jurys pack'd, and brib'd, insult thy State:
Like Waves Tumultuous, insolently wise,
They tutor Kings, and Senators advise;
Whilst old Republicans direct the Stream,
Not France, and Rome, but Monarchy's their aim:
Fools rode by Knaves! and paid as they deserve,
Despis'd whilst us'd! then left to hang or Starve.
8

FAB. II. The Lions Treaty of Partition.

A mighty Lyon heretofore,
Of monstrous Paws, and dreadful Roar,
Was bent upon a Chase:
Inviting Friends, and near Allies,
Frankly to share the Sport and Prize,
During the hunting Space.
The Lynx, and Royal Panther came,
The Boar and Wolf of Wolfingham,
The Articles were these:
Share and share like what e'er they got,
The Dividend upon the spot,
And so depart in peace.
A Royal Hart, delicious Meat!
Destin'd by inauspicious Fate,
Was started for the Game:
The Hunters run him one and all,
The Chase was long, and at the fall,
Each enter'd with his Claim.
One lov'd a Hanch, and one a side,
This eat it powder'd, tother dry'd,
Each for his share alone:
9

Old Grey-beard then began to roar,
His Whiskers twirl'd, bully'd and swore,
The Hart was all his own.
And thus I prove my Title good,
My Friend deceas'd sprung from our Blood,
Half's mine as we're ally'd:
My valour claims the other part,
In short I love a hunted Hart,
And now who dares divide?
The bilk'd Confederates they stare,
And cry'd, old Gentleman deal fair,
For once be Just and True:
Quoth He, and looking wondrous grum,
Behold my Paws, the word is Mum,
And so Messieurs adieu.

The MORAL.

Tyrants can only be restrain'd by might,
Power's their Conscience, and the Sword their right:
Allies they Court to compass private ends,
But at the Dividend disclaim their Friends.
Yet boast not France, of thy successful Fraud,
Maintain'd by Blood, a Torment whilst enjoy'd:
Imperial Cæsar drives the Storm along,
And Nassaus Arms avenge the publick wrong.
10

FAB. III. The Blind Woman and her Doctors.

A wealthy Matron now grown old,
Was weak in e'ry part:
Afflicted sore with Rheums and Cold,
Yet pretty sound at Heart.
But most her Eyes began to fail,
Depriv'd of needful light:
Nor cou'd her Spectacles avail,
To rectify their Sight.
Receipts she try'd, she Doctors Feed,
And spar'd for no Advice:
Of Men of Skill, or Quacks for need
That practise on sore Eyes.
Salves they dawb'd on, and Plaisters both,
And this, and that was done:
Then Flannels, and a Forehead-cloath,
To bind and keep them on.
Her House tho' small, was furnish'd neat,
And e'ry Room did shine:
With Pictures, Tapestry and Plate,
All Rich, and wondrous fine.
11

Whilst they kept blind the silly Soul,
Their hands found work enough!
They pilfer'd Plate and Goods they stole,
Till all was carry'd off.
When they undam'd their Patients Eyes,
And now pray how's your Sight:
Crys tother, this was my advice,
I knew't wou'd Set you right.
Like a Stuck Pig the Woman star'd,
And up and down she run:
With naked House, and Walls, quite Scar'd,
She found her-self undone.
Doctors quoth she, your Cure's my pain,
For what are Eyes to me:
Bring Salves and Forehead-Cloaths again,
I've nothing left to see.

The MORAL.

See injur'd Brittain thy unhappy Case,
Thou Patient with distemper'd Eyes:
State Quacks but nourish the Disease,
And thrive by Treacherous Advice.
If fond of the Expensive pain,
When eighteen Millions run on Score:
Let them clap Muflers on again,
And Physick Thee of Eighteen more.
12

FAB. IV. The Satyrs Address.

Five Satyrs of the Woodland Sort,
Thought Polititians then:
Their Ears prick'd up their Noses short,
And brows adorn'd like Aldermen;
With Asses Hoofs, great gogle Eyes,
And ample Chins of Be---ms Size:
To Jove tript up with an Address,
In favour of the Plains:
That it wou'd please him to Suppress
All Heats and Cold's, his Winds and Rains;
The Sun that he'd Extinguish too,
And in the Skies hang something new.
My wise reforming Friends, quoth Jove,
Our Elements are good!
We manage for the best above,
Tho' not so Rightly understood;
But since such profound Squires are sent,
Weel treat you like the Cream of Kent.
Then Jove brought out Ætherial Fire
In a gilt Cha[illeg.]indish:
The Sparkling flame they all admire,
13

'Twas fine, they Vow'd, as Heart cou'd wish;
They gap'd, they grin'd, they jump'd about
Jove give us that, the Sun put out!
The charming Flames they all Embrace,
Which urged by Natures Laws:
Their Shaggy Hides set in a blaze,
And soundly Sing'd their paws;
In Corners then they Sneak, with terrour Dumb,
And o'er the Immortal pavements Scud it home.

The MORAL.

How Senseless are our Modern Whigish Tools,
Beneath the dignity of British Fools!
With Beef resolv'd, and Fortify'd with Ale,
They sensure Monarch's, and at Senates Rail;
So eagerly to Publick mischief run,
That they prevent the hands, which Loo them on.
O true Machines; and heads devoid of Brains!
Affront that Senate which your rights Maintains!
Thus Ideots Sport with Power, and Flames embrace,
Till smarting Folly glares them in the Face.
14

FAB. V. The Farmer and his Dog.

There dwelt a Farmer in the West,
As we're in story told:
Whose Herds were large, and Flocks the best,
That ever lin'd a Fold.
Arm'd with a Staff, his Russet Coat,
And Towser by his side:
Early and late he tun'd his Throat
And every Wolf defi'd.
Loved Towser was his Hearts delight,
In Cringe and Fawning skill'd:
Entrusted with the Flocks by Night,
And Guardian of the Field.
Towser, quoth he, I'm for a Fair,
Be Regent in my Room:
Pray of my tender Flocks take care,
And keep all safe at home.
I know the Watchful, Just, and Brave,
Right worthy such a place:
No wily Fox shall thee deceive,
Nor Wolf dare show his face.
15

But ne'er did Wolves a Fold infest,
At Regent Towsers rate:
He Din'd and Sup'd upon the best,
And frequent Breakfasts eat.
The Farmer oft receiv'd advice,
And laugh'd at the Report:
But coming on him by surprise,
Just found him at the sport.
Ungrateful Beast, quoth he, what means,
That bloody Mouth and Paws:
I know the Base, the Treacherous Stains,
Thy breach of Trust and Laws.
The Fruits of my past Love I see.
Roger the Halter bring:
E'en truss him on that Pippin Tree,
And let Friend Towser of swing.
I'll spare the famish'd Wolf and Fox,
That ne'er my bounty knew:
But as the Guardian of my Flocks,
This Neckcloth is your due.

The MORAL.

When Ministers their Prince abuse,
And on the Subjects prey:
With ancient Monarchs 'twas in use,
To send them Towsers way,
16

FAB. VI. The Fox and Bramble.

Ren an old Poacher after Game,
Saw Grapes look tempting Fine:
But now grown impotent and Lame,
Cou'd not command the Vine;
His Lips he lick'd, stood ogleing with his Eyes,
Strein'd at a running Jump, but mist the prize.
Quoth he that honest Bush hard by,
Might give a Friend a lift:
In troth its Curtesy I'll try,
And venture for a shift;
Without more words he bounces to the top,
But Gor'd and Wounded is compell'd to drop.
Down Reynard came batter'd, and tore,
He Blow'd and lick'd his Paws:
Then muttered to himself and swore,
Cursing the Fatal Cause;
Damn'd Rascal Shrub, quoth he, whom hedgestakes Scorn,
Beneath a Furs-bush, or the Scoundrel Thorn.
17

Good words, Friend Ren, the Bush reply'd
Here no incroacher Scapes:
Those Foxes that on Brambles Ride,
Love Thorns, as well as Grapes;
But better Language wou'd your Mouth become,
If you must Curse, go Curse the Fool at home.

The MORAL.

Who first offend, then in Disputes ingage,
Shou'd check their Passions and undecent rage:
But peevish Age, of weak Resentments Proud,
Like Woman's Stouborn, Impotent and Loud.
Ill manners never found a just pretence,
And rude Expressions show a barren Sense:
But when high birth descends to mean abuse,
The Crime runs Foulest, and finds no excuse.
18

FAB. VII. The Fox and Weazle.

To the Late Honourable, The Commissioners of the Prize-Office.
A needy Weazle heretofore,
Very rapacious, lank, and poor:
That had no Place, small comings in,
And liv'd in terror of the Gin;
Nor got a Morsel to his hole,
But what he either beg'd, or stole.
One Night a forraging for prey,
He found a Store-house in his way:
Each cranny then he nimbly past,
With lanthorn Jaws, and slender wast;
And made long time his Quarters good,
On slaughter'd Mice, and wheaten Food.
But growing corpulent and round,
Too small, the widest chink was found:
And now he squees'd and thrust in vain,
For Liberty, and Home again.
19

A Fox that chanc'd to Strol that way,
For Meditations sake, or Prey:
Stood grinning at him for a while,
With Roguish Looks, and sneering Smile:
And tho' he shrewdly gave a guess,
Yet ask'd him how, and what's the case;
And why his Weazle-ship wou'd keep,
In durance vile, and play Boh-peep!
Quoth he, alack, Sir, I was Lean,
Hagger'd and Poor when I came in:
A Skeleton, meer Skin and Bone!
Tho' now so Gross, and Bulky grown,
That with good Cheer and Dainties Fed,
My A--- is bigger than my Head.
But if a helping Paw you'l lend,
To force a board and serve a Friend:
So fain I wou'd my Bacon save,
I'll kiss your foot, and live your Slave.
Quoth Ren, we Doctors hold it best,
After a long debauch to fast:
Then as for discipline 'tis fit,
You take a quantum sufficit.
Slacken with abstinence your Skin,
And you'l return as you got in:
For till each Collop you Refund,
You'r like to quarter in Lobs-pound.
20

The MORAL.

Cæsar no more in Foreign Camps Expose,
Your sacred life, to Brittains gen'rous Foes:
Thy dread Tribunal now erect at home,
And Arm'd with Vengeance to her rescue come.
In Power her basest Enemies remain,
Oppress thy Subjects, and thy Treasures drein:
With Sums immense they raise their Fortunes high,
Tho' Armies starve, and Fleets neglected lie.
Bane of the War! Curse of thy Martial Reign!
You share the toil and dangers, they the Gain:
To Justice then the known Offenders bring,
Avenge thy People, and assert the King.
21

FAB. VIII. An Owl and the Sun.

A saucy Buffle-headed Owl,
One morning on the Sun fell foul,
Because it made him Blind:
But by his Sophistry you'l guess,
Him not of the Athenian Race,
But a more modern kind.
The Morn was Fragrant, Cool, and Bright,
The Sun Illustrious with his Light,
Dispencing warmth to all:
Madge on a Pinacle was got,
Sputtring and Hooting like a Sot
And thus began the brawl.
D'e hear, you Prince of Red-fac'd Fools!
Hot headed Puppy! foe to Owls!
Why this offensive blaze?
Behind some Cloud go sneak aside,
Your Carbuncles and Rubies hide,
And quench that Flaming face.
When I'm a taking the fresh Air,
Whip in my Eyes you come full glare,
And so much Rudeness show!
22

I Wonder when the modest Moon,
Wou'd serve an Owl as you have done,
Or tan, and burn One so.
Bright Phœbus Smil'd at what was said,
And cry'd, 'tis well, Sir Logger-head,
You've neither sense nor Shame!
Because a blinking Fool can't bear,
An object so Transcending Fair,
The Sun must take the blame.
Shall I the Universe benight,
And rob the injur'd World of Light,
Because you Rail and Scowl:
When Birds of the most abject Sort,
Deride and grin you for their Sport,
And treat you like an Owl.

The MORAL.

Who libel Senates, and traduce the Great,
Measure the Publick Good by Private Hate:
Intrest's their Rule of Love; fierce to oppose,
All whom Superiour Virtue makes their Foes.
Thy Merits, Rochester, thus give offence,
The guilty Faction hates discerning Sense:
This Harly, Seymor, How, and Mackworth find,
Great Eye-sores to the loud Rapacious Kind;
But whilst in holes addressing Owls repine,
Bright as the Sun their Patriot Names will Shine.
23

FAB. IX. The Sea and the Banks.

As out at Sea a ruffling Gale it blew,
And Clouds o'ercast the gloomy Skies:
The Surges they began to rise,
And terrify the Saylors jocund Crew.
This to the wanton Billows was but Sport,
They roar'd and gambol'd it along,
This was the burden of their Song,
They'd have a Storm, and show good Reason for't.
Then a fresh Maggot takes them in the head,
To have one merry jaunt on Shore:
They'd not be fetter'd up they swore,
But thus to the insulted Margin said.
Hey slugs! de hear ye lazy Hounds!
Open to Right aud Left! make way,
And give free passage to the Sea,
Down with your Ramparts and obstructing Mounds.
24

See how they stir! awake ye Brutes!
And let us have one frisk at Land,
Or zbud we'll wash you into Sand,
Without the tedious form of long Disputes.
Hold, soft and fair! the Banks reply'd, wee'r bound,
In Honour to make good our Post:
And will for all your windy boast,
As Barriers to the Sea maintain our ground.
Go Lord it in your watry Realms the Main!
There Rage and Bluster as you please,
Licentious in your native Seas,
But not an inch as trespassers you'll gain.
So my fierce Mutineers be jogging Home!
For if you dare invade our Coast,
You'll run your Heads against a Post,
And shamefully retire in empty Fome.

The MORAL.

Tho' discord forms the Elements for War,
Their well pois'd Strength prevents the fatal Jar:
Harmonious Nature sets the Ballance right,
And each compels the other to Unite.
25

In Empire thus true Union is maintain'd,
Each Power's by a Subordinate restrain'd:
But when like raging Waves they overflow,
Their stated Bounds, and on the weaker grow:
Thrice happy Realms! where there are Patriots found,
To check Invadors, and maintain their Ground.
26

FAB. X. The Nightingal and Cuckow.

A tuneful Nightingal whose warbling Throat.
Was form'd for lofty Song:
With every Sweet Harmonious Note,
He charm'd the list'ning Throng;
The hooting Cuckow was displeas'd alone,
Condemn'd his Manner, and extol'd her Own.
This screaming Fop, quoth she, that Scares,
All Creatures with his din:
When Folks are listening to my Airs,
Forsooth he's putting in.
Here's such a chattring kept, and Odious Noise,
My Song's quite spoil'd with his confounded Voice.
The injur'd Songster Modestly reply'd,
Since you perform so fine:
The Contest let some Judge decide,
And try your Skill with mine;
Vanquish'd I'll your Superior Genius own,
The Cuckow shook her Head, and cry'd 'twas done.
27

A solemn ploding Ass that grass'd the Plain,
Was for an Umpire chose:
The Nightingal advanc'd his Strein,
And charm'd with e'ry close.
The Cuckows note was one unvarry'd tone,
Exceeding hoarse, yet pleas'd, she roar'd it on.
Appeal was made, the Judge this Sentence gave,
You Sirrah Nightingal!
Of Musick you some Smattrings have,
And may in time do well;
But for substantial Song, I needs must say,
My Friend the Cuckow bears the Bell away.

The MORAL.

Mackworth who Reads thy well digested Lines,
Where Eloquence, with nervous Reason Shines:
Sees Art and Judgment flow thro' ev'ry Page,
The Patriots Zeal, free from indecent Rage;
So pure thy Stile, thy Manners so refin'd,
Your Pen transmits the candour of your Mind.
Yet happier he that has the Answer Wrote,
In penury of Sense, and dearth of Thought:
Whilst Asses Judge, and faction claims a Vote,
Abusive Nonsense is the admir'd Note;
Where want of Art and Manners merit praise,
He Robs the Cuckow of her ancient Bays.
28

FAB. XI. The Sun and Wind.

The Sun and Wind one day fell out,
In matters they discours'd about,
Old Boreas in a Rage:
Call'd the Sun Fool, and swore he li'd,
Spit in his Face, his power defi'd,
And dar'd him to engage.
Quoth he, yon goes a Traveller,
With formal Cloak, and looks demure,
The Whiggish Signs of Grace:
Who fairly off the Cloak can force,
From one so Stiff, Proud, and Morose,
Deserves the Upper Place.
With that the Wind began to rise,
Bluster'd and Storm'd it thro' the Skies,
Making a dismal Roar:
The Non-con. wrap'd his Cloak about,
Trudg'd on, resolv'd to weather't out,
And see the Tempest o'er.
The Storm being spent, with piercing Rays,
Full on his Shoulders Phœbus plays,
Which soon the Zealot felt,
29

Aside the cumb'rous Cloak was thrown,
Panting and faint he laid him down,
More decently to melt.
The Sun then ask'd his blustering Friend,
If farther yet he durst contend,
And try some other way:
But conscious of so plain a Truth,
He put his Finger in his Mouth,
Without a word to say.

The MORAL.

Your Whigs disgrac'd, like Bullys of the Town,
Libel, and Rail the more they'r tumbl'd down:
Superior Merit still prevails at last,
The Fury of their feeble Storm is past.
But when the Senate darts its piercing Rays,
Faction unbuttons, and rebates its pace:
The Hypocritick Cloak is tiresome found,
And the faint Zealot pants upon the Ground.
30

FAB. XII. The Boar and Forrest.

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.
His Ministers whole Realms obtain'd,
And Courtiers much inclin'd to want:
His Manners beg'd, and Forfeits gain'd,
With Patents to confirm the Royal Grant.
The Boar, to show a Subjects Love,
Crav'd for the Publick good a Boon:
His ancient Forrest 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 Alamode, and only in request.
The Grant being pass'd the Ravenous Boar,
A Desert of the Forrest made:
Up by the Roots Vast Oaks he tore,
And low on Earth the Princely Cedars laid.
31

This Act of Violence and Wrong,
Alarum'd all the Savage Race:
With loud Complaints to Court they throng,
Strip'd of their Shades, and ancient resting place.
With gen'rous Rage the Lyon shook,
And Vow'd the Boar shou'd dearly pay:
I hate quoth he a down cast look,
That Robs the Publick in a Friendly way.
Unhappy Groves, my Empires Pride!
Lov'd Solitudes, ye Shades divine!
The Rage of Tempests ye defi'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 attone,
Accept Friend Chucky for a Sacrifice.

The MORAL.

The Brittish Oaks our Nations Strength, and Pride,
With which Triumphant o'er the Main we Ride:
Insulting Foes are by our Navey's aw'd,
A Guard at home, our dreaded Power abroad.
32

Like Druids then your Forrests sacred keep,
Preserve with them your Empire of the Deep:
Subjects their Princes Bounty oft abuse,
And spoil the Publick for their private Use;
But no Rapacious Hand shou'd dare deface,
The Royal Stores of a well Timber'd Chase.
33

FAB. XIII. The Fox and Flies.

As crafty Reynard strove to Swim,
The torrent of a Rapid Stream,
To gain the farther side:
Before the middle Space was past,
A whirling Eddy caught him fast
And drove him with the Tide.
With vain Efforts and Strugling spent,
Half drown'd, yet forc'd to be content,
Poor Ren a Soaking lay:
Till some kind Ebb shou'd set him free,
Or chance restore that Liberty,
The Waves had took away.
A Swarm of half-starv'd hagger'd Flies,
With Fury seize the floating Prize,
By raging Hunger led:
With many a Curse and bitter Groan,
He shook his Sides, and wisht them gone,
Whilst plenteously they Fed.
34

A Hedghog saw his evil Plight,
Touch'd with Compassion at the sight,
Quoth he to show I'm Civil:
I'll brush those Swigging Dogs away,
That on thy Blood remorseless Prey
And send them to the Devil.
No courteous Sir, the Fox reply'd,
Let them infest, and gore my Hide,
With their insatiate Thirst:
Since I such fatal Wounds sustain,
'Twill yield some Pleasure midst the Pain,
To see the Bloodhounds burst.

The MORAL.

Translated from the Fam'd Nostradamus's Prophecies. Beginning at

Le sang du Juste à Londres fera faute
Brusser par feu, &c.

Thus guilty Brittain to her Thames complains
With Royal Blood defil'd, O cleanse my Stains!
Whence Plagues arise! whence dire Contagions come!
And Flames that my Augustas Pride consume!
35

In vain saith Thames, the Regicidal Breed
Will swarm again, by them thy Land shall bleed:
Extremest Curse! but so just Heaven decreed!
Republicans shall Brittains Treasures drein,
Betray her Monarch and her Church prophane!
Till gorg'd with Spoils, with Blood the Leeches burst,
Or Ty---n add the second to the first.
36

FAB. XIV. The Bear and Mountebank.

There liv'd a Quack in high repute,
By virtue of a Velvet Suit,
And celebrated Bill:
As for his Knowledge 'tis allow'd,
He had enough to cheat the Crow'd,
And that's good modern Skill.
Once as this Orator held forth,
On Topicks of his Med'cins worth,
And wondrous Cures they wrought:
Tho' not a word they understood,
His Eloquence so charm'd the crowd,
That still they gap'd, and bought.
Midst his Harangue, one day it chanc'd,
Tom. Dove the Bear that way advanc'd,
In Procession to his Stake:
The Rable quit their Doctor streight,
And with huzza's on Bruin wait,
Who thus the chief bespake.
37

D'e hear ye pack of bawling Louts,
Compos'd of Vermin, Stink, and Clouts,
Why all this Noise and Do:
Tho' thro' my Nose a ring is got,
And here I'm baited like a Sot,
Still I resemble you.
Observe that Mountebanking Fool,
Perch'd yonder on his three-leg'd Stool,
With poisnous Drugs to sell:
See o'er his Shoulder how he snears,
Three hours to lug you by the Ears,
Yet pleases wondrous well.
With fulsome Lies and stupid Stuff,
He Cheats and Banters you enough,
Yet there ye flock by Sholes:
But if by chance a Bear's brought out,
At him ye Hollow, Laugh, and Shout,
And who's the greater Fools.
So Brother Monsters face about!
The Quack your Keeper wants his rout,
For underneath the Rose:
Another sort of Brutes there are,
Besides a stupid Russian Bear,
That's misled by the Nose.
38

The MORAL.

Ill Ministers, like Quacks, the Crowd deceive,
Defraud them for their good, and they believe:
At France and Rome they rail with specious Arts,
And whilst they Cheat the Vulgar, gain their Hearts.
But if Sagacious Bruin smells them out,
Their Frauds exposing to the injur'd rout:
To mischief prone, implacable, and Strong,
Ten-thousand Tongues and Hands revenge the wrong,
39

FAB. XV. The Peacock Proclaim'd King.

A Vulture old and feeble grown,
Took up, and much reform'd his Life:
His Beak decay'd, and Talons gone,
Yet still he relish'd Noise, and Strife;
Once a young Peacock to the Birds brought forth,
On his high Birth harrangud, and blooming Worth.
The Isles and watry Realm, said he,
This hopeful Monarch shall Command:
His Scepter to depend on me,
And rule the tributary Land;
Reserving only for our Royal use,
What-e'er the Seas and fertile Coasts produce.
The Peacock a pert dapper Spark,
Made the Sagacious Vultures Choice:
His Title and descent tho' dark,
Soon gain'd the whole Assemblies Voice;
The Pie except; a Member of the Board,
Who midst their Acclamations, crav'd a word.
40

His Highness Merits and Desert,
Quoth he 'tis needless to dispute:
In giving Empires we're too pert,
With neither right, nor Power to do't;
You've made a Peacock King, pray now 'tis done,
What Champion here conducts him to his Throne.
Where the Imperial Eagle Reigns,
Renown'd for Arms, and Warlike might:
Who such a feeble Youth disdains,
And Vultures dares ingage in Fight;
Therefore Messieurs, it is my private Voice,
That the Possessor first approve our Choice.
41

The MORAL.

Cæsar that Prince betrays his Fears,
Who Stiles the Monarch in the Field:
But when thy Army Disappears,
To weak pretenders will thy Titles yield.
But wiser Politicians say,
True Conduct is not so much shown,
In giving others Realms away,
As in defending well their own.
42

FAB. XVI. A Laconick Condemn'd.

A sage Laconick, truly Wise,
Whose Conversation was Concise,
Train'd up in rigid Schools:
Once when a Single word wou'd do,
Had Lavishly made use of two,
In high Contempt of Rules.
A Bill against him was prefer'd
The charge by Evidence aver'd,
That fully prov'd the fact:
The Judges aggravate the Crime,
In words as few, and little time,
As answer'd Men compact.
Quoth one, the being too Verbose,
A Misdemenour is so gross,
Of that pernicious kind!
The Punishment must reach your Sense,
And Reason Smart for this offence,
By Torturing your Mind.
43

Read Jura Populi o'er twice,
Pittis and Bunyan Books of price!
And Oats's modest vein:
Read Baxter's Volums, T---ls Works,
York-shire Petish with that of Bucks,
True Cant, and Libel Strein.
For Solid Nonsense, thoughtless Words,
The Vindication of the Lords,
That answers Mackworths State:
Read first and second Paragraph,
If possible drudge on thrô half,
Your Crime you'l Expiate.
The Wretch with Strong Convulsions shook,
Despair and anguish in his look,
To Heaven for Mercy cry'd:
Quoth he send Gibbets, Racks, or Wheell,
Algiers, and Gallies please me well,
Such Torments I'll abide.
But Damn me not for one offence,
To Volums unally'd to Sense,
Vainly to wast my Breath:
That answer to the Commons Rights,
With Labour'd dullness so affrights,
The thoughts are worse than Death.
FINIS.
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