So faid upon the god he flies,
In cords the struggling captive ties.
"Now, Proteus! now (to truth compell'd) Speak, and confefs thy art excell'd.
Ufe ftrength, furprize, or what you will,
The Courtier finds evafions ftill;
Not to be bound by any ties,
And never forc'd to leave his lyes.”
THOSE who in quarrels interpofe,
Muft often wipe a bloody nofe.
A Mastiff, of true English blood,
Lov'd fighting better than his food.
When dogs were fnarling for a bone,
He long'd to make the war his own,
And often found (when two contend)
To interpofe obtain'd his end.
He glory'd in his limping pace;
The fears of honour feam'd his face;
In every limb a gafh appears,
And frequent fights retrench'd his ears.
As on a time he heard from far
Two dogs engag'd in noify war,
Away he fcours, and lays about him,
Refolv'd no fray fhould be without him.
Forth from his yard a tanner flies,
And to the bold intruder cries:
"A cudgel fhall correct your manners:
Whence fprung this curfed hate to tanners?
While on my dog you vent your spite,
Sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite."
To fee the battle thus perplex'd,
With equal rage a butcher, vex'd,
Hoarse-screaming from the circled crowd,
To the curs'd Maftiff cries aloud:
"Both Hockleyhole and Marybone
The combats of my dog have known:
He ne'er, like bullies, coward-hearted,
Attacks in public, to be parted.
Think not, rafh fool, to fhare his fame;
Be his the honour, or the fhame."
Thus faid, they fwore, and rav'd like thunder,
Then dragg'd their faften'd dogs afunder;
While clubs and kicks from every fide
Rebounded from the Maftiff's hide.
All reeking now with sweat and blood,
A while the parted warriors ftood;
Then pour'd upon the meddling foe,
Who, worried, howl'd and fprawl'd below.
He rofe; and, limping from the fray,
By both fides mangled, sneak'd away.
THE BARLEY-MOW AND THE DUNGHILL.
How many faucy airs we meet
From Temple-bar to Aldgate-ftreet!
Proud rogues, who fhar'd the South-fea
And fprung like mushrooms in a day !
They think it mean to condefcend
To know a brother or a friend;
They blush to hear their mother's naine,
And by their pride expofe their fhame.
As crofs his yard, at early day,
A careful farmer took his way,
He ftopp'd; and, leaning on his fork,
Obferv'd the flail's inceffant work.
In thought he meafur'd all his flore,
His geefe, his hogs, he number'd o'er;
In fancy weigh'd the fleeces fhorn,
And multiply'd the next year's corn.
A Barley-mow, which ftood befide,
Thus to its mufing master cry'd :
Say, good Sir, is it fit or right
To treat me with neglect and flight?
Me, who contribute to your cheer,
And raise your mirth with ale and beer?
Why thus infulted, thus difgrac'd,
And that vile Dunghill near me plac'd ?
Are thofe poor fweepings of a groom,
That filthy fight, that naufeous fume,
Meet objects here? Command it hence;
A thing fo mean must give offence."
The humble Dunghill thus reply'd: "Thy mafter hears, and mocks thy pride:
Infult not thus the meek and low;
In me thy benefactor know;
My warm affiftance gave thee birth,
Or thou hadst perish'd low in earth;
But up-ftarts, to fupport their station,
Cancel at once all obligation."
PYTHAGORAS AND THE COUNTRYMAN.
YTHAGORAS rofe at early dawn,
By foaring meditation drawn ;
To breathe the fragrance of the day,
Through flowery fields he took his way.
In mufing contemplation warm,
His steps milled him to a farm,
Where on a ladder's topmoft round
A peasant stood; the hammer's found
Shook the weak barn. "Say, friend, what care
Calls for thy honeft labour there?"
The Clown, with furly voice replies, "Vengeance aloud for justice cries.
This kite, by daily rapine fed,
My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread,
At length his forfeit life hath paid;
See on the wall his wings display'd:
Here nail'd, a terror to his kind,
My fowls fhall future fafety find;
My yard the thriving poultry feed,
And my barns' refuse fat the breed."
"Friend, fays the Sage, the doom is wife ;
For public good the murderer dies :
But, if these tyrants of the air
Demand a fentence so fevere,
Think how the glutton, man, devours;
What bloody feasts regale his hours!
O impudence of power and might,
Thus to condemn a hawk or kite,
When thou, perhaps, carnivorous finner,
Hadft pullets yesterday for dinner!"
"Hold, cry'd the Clown, with paffion heated,
Shall kites and men alike be treated?
When Heaven the world with creatures ftor'd,
Man was ordain'd their fovereign lord.”
"Thus tyrants boaft, the Sage reply'd,
Whofe murders fpring from power and pride.
Own then this manlike kite is flain,
Thy greater luxury to fustain
For "Petty rogues fubmit to Fate,
"That great ones may enjoy their ftate *."
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