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Not all the volumes on thy fhelf
Are worth that fingle volume, Self:
For who this facred book declines,
C Howe'er in other arts he fhines,

Tho' fmit with Pindar's noble rage,
Or vers'd in Tully's manly page;
Tho' deeply read in Plato's fchool,
With all his knowledge, is a fool.

'Proclaim the truth-Say, what is man? His body from the duft began;

And when a few short years are o'er,
The crumbling fabric is no more.

'But whence the foul?-From heaven it came!
O prize this intellectual flame!
This nobler felf with rapture fcan;

'Tis mind alone which makes the man.
Trust me, there's not a joy on earth,
But from the foul derives its birth.

Afk the young rake (he'll anfwer right),
Who treats by day, and drinks by night,
What makes his entertainments thine?
What gives the relish to his wine?
He'll tell thee (if he fcorns the beast)
That focial pleasures form the feat.
The charms of beauty too fhall cloy,
Unless the foul exalts the joy.

• The mind must animate the face,
• Or cold and tastelefs ev'ry grace.

What! muft the foul her pow'rs difpenfe, To raise and fwell the joys of sense? Know, too, the joys of fenfe controul And clog the motions of the foul; Forbid her pinions to afpire, • Damp and impair her native fire; And fure as fenfe, that tyrant! reigns, • She holds the empress Soul in chains; Inglorious bondage to the mind, Heaven-born, fublime, and unconfin'd! She's independent, fair, and great, And justly claims a large eftate; She asks no borrow'd aids to fhine; • She boasts within a golden mine; But, like the treasures of Peru,

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Her wealth lies deep, and far from view.

Say, fhall the man who knows her worth, Debafe her dignity and birth?

'Or e'er repine at Heaven's decree, Who kindly gave her leave to be? Call'd her from nothing into day,

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And built her tenement of clay.

Hear and accept me for your guide

(Reafon fhal! ne'er defert your fide):

Who liftens to my wifer voice,

Can't but applaud his Maker's choice;

• Pleas'd with that first and sov'reign cause,
Pleas'd with unerring Wifdom's laws:
Secure, fince fov'reign goodness reigns;
Secure, fince fov'reign pow'r obtains.
With curious eyes review thy frame;
This science shall direct thy claim.
Doft thou indulge a double view,
A long, long life, and happy too?

Perhaps a farther boon you crave

To lie down eafy in the grave.

'Know, then, my dictates must prevail, • Or surely each fond wish shall fail.

Come, then, is happiness thy aim? 'Let mental joys be all thy game. 'Repeat the fearch, and mend your pace, The capture fhall reward the chace. Let ev'ry minute, as it fprings, Convey fresh knowledge on its wings; 'Let ev'ry minute, as it flies,

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'Record thee good as well as wife.

• While fuch pursuits your thoughts engage,
In a few years you'll live an age.

‹ Who measures life by rolling years?
Fools meafure by revolving fpheres.
Go thou, and fetch th' unerring rule
From Virtue's and from Wisdom's school.
Who well improves life's fhortest day
• Will scarce regret its setting ray;
'Contented with his thare of light,
Nor fear nor with th' approach of night:
And when difeafe affaults the heart,
• When ficknefs triumphs over art,
Reflection on a life well paft,
'Shall prove a cordial to the last:

This med'cine fhall the foul fuftain,
• And soften or suspend her pain;
'Shall break Death's fell tyrannic pow'r,
And calm the troubled dying hour.
Blefs'd rules of cool prudential age
I liften'd, and rever'd the fage.
When, lo! a form divinely bright
Defcends, and burfts upon my fight;
A feraph of illuftrious birth
(Religion was her name on earth);
Supremely fweet her radiant face,
And blooming with celeftial grace !
Three thining cherubs form'd her train,
Wav'd their light wings, and reach'd the plain;
Faith, with fublime and piercing eye,
And pinions flutt'ring for the sky;
Here Hope, that fmiling angel, ftands,
And golden anchors grace her hands;
There Charity, in robes of white,
Fairest and fav'rite maid of light!

The feraph fpake- 'Tis reafon's part
To govern and to guard the heart;
To lull the wayward foul to reft,
When hopes and fears diftract the break:
'Reafon may claim this doubtful ftrife,
And fteer thy bark thro' various life.
But when the ftorms of Death are nigh,
And midnight darknefs veils the sky,
Shall reafon then direct thy fail,

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Difperfe the clouds, or fink the gale è
Stranger, this fkill alone is mine,
Skill that tranfcends his fcanty line.

That hoary fage has counfell'd right;
Be wife, nor fcorn his friendly light.
Revere thyfelf-thou'rt near allied
To angels on thy better fide.

'How various e'er their ranks or kinds, Angels are but unbodied minds: When the partition walls decay,

'Men emerge angels from their clay;

Yes

'Yes, when the frailer body dies,
'The foul afferts her kindred fkies;

But minds, tho' fprung from heavenly race, 'Muft first be rutor'd for the place *(The joys above are understood And relith'd only by the good). Who fhall affume this guardian care? Who fhall fecure their birthright there? Souls are my charge-to me 'tis given 'To train them for their native heaven. 'Know, then-Who bow the early knee, • Ard give the willing heart, to me; Who wifely, when Temptation waits, Elude her frauds, and spurn her baits; 'Who dare to own my injur'd cause, Tho' fools deride my facred laws; 'Or fcorn to deviate to the wrong, 'Tho' Perfecution lifts her thong; 'Tho' all the fons of hell conspire 'To raise the stake, and light the fireKnow, that for fuch fuperior fouls "There lies a blifs beyond the poles; Where fpirits fhine with purer ray, And brighten to meridian day;

Where Love, where boundlefs Friendship rules (No friends that change, no love that cools') 'Where rifing floods of knowledge roll,

And pour, and pour upon the foul!'

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But where's the paffage to the fkies?'
'The road thro' Death's black valley lies.
Nay, do not fhudder at my tale;
'Tho' dark the fhades, yet fafe the vale.
This path the best of men have trod,
And who'd decline the road to God?
Oh! 'tis a glorious boon to die!
This favour can't be priz'd too high.'
While thus the fpake, my looks exprefs'd
The raptures kindling in my breast:
My foul a fix'd attention gave;
When the ftern monarch of the grave
With haughty ftrides approach'd-amaz'd
I ftood, and trembled as I gaz'd.
The feraph calm'd each anxious fear,
And kindly wip'd the falling tear;
Then haften'd with expanded wing
To meet the pale, terrific king.
But now what milder fcenes arife!
The tyrant drops his hoftile guife:
He feems a youth divinely fair;
In graceful ringlets waves his hair;
His wings their whit'ning plumes display,
His burnith'd plumes reflect the day;
Light flows his fhining azure veft,
And all the angel ftands confefs'd.

I view'd the change with fweet furprize,
And, oh! I panted for the skies;

Thank'd Heaven that c'er I drew my breath,
And triumph'd in the thoughts of Death.

FABLES, by the late Mr. GAY.
Introduction to the FABLES. Part the Firft.
122. The Shepherd and the Philofopher.
EMOTE from cities liv'd a fwain,
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;

RE

His head was filver'd o'er with age,
And long experience made him fage;
In fummer's heat, and winter's cold,
He fed his flock, and penn'd the fold;
His hours in cheerful labour flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew:
His wifdom and his honest fame
Through all the country rais'd his name.
A deep Philofopher (whofe rules
Of moral life were drawn from schools)
The shepherd's homely cottage fought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought:

Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books confum'd the midnight oil?
Haft thou old Greece and Rome furvey'd,
And the vaft fenfe of Plato weigh'd?
Hath Socrates thy foul refin'd?
And haft thou fathom'd Tully's mind?
Or, like the wife Ulyffes, thrown
By various fates on realms unknown,
Haft thou through many cities ftray'd,
Their cuftoms, laws, and manners weigh'd!
The thepherd modeftly replied:

I ne'er the paths of learning tried;
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts,
To read mankind, their laws, and arts;
For man is practis'd in disguise,
He cheats the moft difcerning eyes;
Who by that fearch fhall wifer grow,
When we ourselves can never know?
The little knowledge I have gain'd,
Was all from fimple nature drain'd;
Hence my life's maxims took their rife,
Hence grew my fettled hate to vice.
The daily labours of the bee
Awake my foul to induftry.
Who can obferve the careful ant,
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the trustiest of his kind)
With gratitude inflames my mind.
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my fervice copy Tray.
In conftancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air
With pious wing protects her care,
And every fowl that flies at large,
Inftructs me in a parent's charge.

From nature too I take my rule,
To fhun contempt and ridicule :
I never, with important air,
In converfation overbear.

Can grave and formal pafs for wife,
When men the folemn owl defpife?
My tongue within my lips I rein,
For who talks much muft talk in vain:
We from the wordy torrent fly;
Who listens to the chatt'ring pye?
Nor would I, with felonious flight,
By stealth invade my neighbour's right;
Rapacious animals we hate :

Kites, hawks, and wolves, deferve their fate.
Do not we just abhorrence find

Against the toad and ferpent kind?

But

But envy, calumny, and fpite,
Bear ftronger venom in their bite.
Thus ev'ry object of creation
Can furnish hints to contemplation;
And from the most minute and mean
A virtuous mind can morals glean.

Thy fame is juft, the fage replies;
Thy virtue proves thee truly wife.
Pride often guides the author's pen;
Books as affected are as men :
But he who ftudies nature's laws,
From certain truth his maxims draws;
And thofe, without our fchools, fuffice
To make men moral, good, and wife.

To bis Highness William Duke of Cumberland. § 123. Fable I. The Lion, the Tyger, and the

Traveller.

ACCEPT, young prince, the moral lay,
And in thefe tales mankind furvey;
With early virtues plant your breaft,
The fpecious arts of vice deteft.

Princes, like beautics, from their youth
Are ftrangers to the voice of truth:
Learn to conteran all praife betimes;
For flattery's the nurfe of crimes.
Friendship by fweet reproof is shown
(A virtue never near a throne);
In courts fuch freedom must offend,
There none prefumes to be a friend.
To thofe of your exalted ftation
Each courtier is a dedication.
Muft I too flatter like the reft,
And turn my morals to a jeft?
The mufe difdains to fteal from thofe
Who thrive in courts by fulfome profe.
But fhall I hide your real praife,
Or tell you what a nation fays ?
They in your infant bofom trace
The virtues of your royal race,
In the fair dawning of your mind
Difcern you gen'rous, mild, and kind:
They fee you grieve to hear distrets,
And pant already to redrefs.
Go on, the height of good attain,
Nor let a nation hope in vain;
For hence we justly may prefage
The virtues of a riper age.
True courage hall your bofom fire,
And future actions own your fire.
Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to fave.

A Tyger roaming for his prey, Sprung on a Trav'ller in the way; The proftrate gaine a Lion fpics, And on the greedy tyrant flies: With mingled roar refounds the wood, Their teeth, their claws, diffil with blood; Till, vanquish'd by the Lion's ftrength, The fpotted foe extends his length. The Man befought the fhaggy lord, And on his knees for life implor'd; His life the gen'rous hero gave: Together walking to his cave,

The lion thus bespoke his gueft:

What hardy beaft fhall dare conteft My matchlefs ftrength you faw the fight, And muft atteft my pow'r and right. Forc'd to forego their native home, My ftarving flaves at diftance roam ; Within thefe woods I reign alone, The boundlefs foreft is my own. Bears, wolves, and all the favage brood, Have dyed the regal den with blood. Thefe carcafes on either hand, Thofe bones that whiten all the land, My former deeds and triumphs tell, Beneath thefe jaws what numbers full.

True, fays the man, the ftrength I faw
Might well the brutal nation awe :
Bat fhall a monarch, brave like you,
Place glory in fo falfe a view?
Robbers invade their neighbours right:
Be lov'd; let juftice bound your might.
Mean are ambitious heroes boasts
Of wafted lands and flaughter'd hosts:
Pirates their pow'r by murders gain;
Wife kings by love and mercy reign.
To me your clemency hath fhown
The virtue worthy of a throne.
Heaven gives you pow'r above the reft,
Like Heaven to fuccour the diftreft.

The cafe is plain, the monarch faid;
Falfe glory hath my youth misled;
For beafts of prey, a fervile train,
Have been the flatt'rers of my reign.
You reafon well. Yet tell me, friend,
Did ever you in courts attend?
For all my fawning rogues agree,
That human heroes rule like me.

§ 124. Fable II. The Spaniel and the Cameleon.

A

SPANIEL, bred with all the care
That waits upon a fav'rite heir,
Ne'er felt correction's rigid hand:
Indulg'd to difobey command,
In pamper'd cafe his hours were fpent;
He never knew what learning meant.
Such forward airs, fo pert, fo finart,
Were fure to win his lady's heart:
Each little mifchief gain'd him praise;
How pretty were his fawning ways!

The wind was fouth, the morning fair,
He ventures forth to take the air:
He ranges all the meadow round,
And rolls upon the fofteft ground;
When near him a Cameleon feen
Was fcarce diftinguish'd from the green.
Dear emblem of the flatt'ring hoft,
What, live with clowns a genius loft!
To cities and the court repair,

A fortune cannot fail thee there;
Preferment fhall thy talents crown:
Believe me, friend; I know the town.
Sir, fays the fycophant, like you,
Of old, politer life I knew:
Like you, a courtier born and bred,
Kings lean'd an car to what I faid.

My whisper always met fuccefs;
The ladies prais'd me for addrefs.
I knew to hit each courtier's paffion,
And flatter'd ev'ry vice in fashion.
But Jove, who hates the liar's ways,
At once cut short my profp'rous days;
And, fentenc'd to retain my nature,
Transform'd me to this crawling creature.
Doom'd to a life obfcure and mean,
I wander in the fylvan scene.
For Jove the heart alone regards;
He punishes what man rewards.
How diff rent is thy cafe and mine!
With men at leaft you fup and dine;
While I, condemn'd to thinneft fare,
Like thofe I flatter'd, feed on air.

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For ev'ry thing alive complain'd
That he the hardest life fuftain'd.
Jove calls his Eagle. At the word
Before him ftands the royal bird.
The bird, obedient, from heaven's height
Downward directs his rapid flight;
Then cited ev'ry living thing
To hear the mandates of his king.
Ungrateful creatures! whence arife
Thefe murmurs which offend the fkies?
Why this diforder? fay the caufe;
For juft are Jove's eternal laws.
Let each his difcontent reveal;
To yon four Dog I first appeal.

Hard is my lot, the Hound replies:
On what fleet nerves the Greyhound flies!
While I, with weary step and flow,
O'er plains, and vales, and mountains go.

The Mother, the Nurfe, and The morning fees my chace begun,

the Fairy.

IVE me a fon. The bleffing fent,

GIVE

Were ever parents more content?
How partial are their doating eyes!
No child is half fo fair and wife.
Wak'd to the morning's pleafing care,
The mother rofe, and fought her heir.
She saw the Nurse, like one poffefs'd,
With wringing hands, and sobbing breast.
Sure fome difafter has befel:
Speak, Nurfe! I hope the boy is well?
Dear Madam, think not me to blame;
Invisible the Fairy came:

Your precious babe is hence convey'd,
And in the place a changeling laid.
Where are the father's mouth and nofe,
The mother's eyes, as black as floes?
See here, a fhocking aukward creature,
That fpeaks a fool in ev'ry feature.

The woman's blind, the mother cries; I see wit sparkle in his eyes.

Lord, madam! what a fquinting leer! No doubt the Fairy hath been here.

Juft as the fpoke, a pigmy Sprite Pops through the key-hole, twift as light; Perch'd on the cradle's top he stands, And thus her folly reprimands:

Whence fprung the vain conceited lye, That we the world with fools fupply? What give our fprightly race away, For the dull helplefs fons of clay! Befides, by partial fondnefs fhewn, Like you, we doat upon our own. Where

yet was ever found a mother, Who'd give her booby for another? And thould we change with human breed, Well might we país for fools indeed.

Nor ends it till the fetting fun.

When (fays the Greyhound) I pursue,
My game is loft, or caught in view;
Beyond my fight the prey's fecure:
The Hound is flow, but always fure;
And had I his fagacious fcent,
Jove ne'er had heard my difcontent.

The Lion crav'd the Fox's art;

The Fox the Lion's force and heart;
The Cock implor'd the Pigeon's flight,
Whofe wings were rapid, ftrong, and light;
The Pigeon ftrength of wing defpis'd,
And the Cock's matchlefs valour priz'd;
The Fishes with'd to graze the plain;
The Beafts to fkim beneath the main.
Thus, envious of another's itate,
Each blam'd the partial hand of Fate.

The bird of heaven then cried aloud:
Jove bids difperfe the murm'ring crowd;
The God rejects your idle prayers.
Would ye, rebellious mutineers,
Entirely change your name and nature,
And be the very envied creature?
What! filent all, and none confent?
Be happy then, and learn content:
Nor imitate the reftlets mind,
And proud ambition, of mankind.

$127. Fable V. The Wild Boar and the Ram. AGAINST an clm a fheep was tied,

The butcher's knife in blood was dyed;
The patient flock, in filent fright,
From far beheld the horrid fight:
A favage Bear, who near them ftcod,
Thus mock'd to fcorn the fleecy brood:
All cowards fhould be ferv'd like you.
Sce, fee, your murd'rer is in view!
With purple hands, and recking knife,
He ftrips the fkin yet warm with life:

§ 126. Fable IV. The Eagle, and the Affembly Your quarter'd fires, your bleeding dams,

of Animals.

AS S Jupiter's all-feeing eye

Survey'd the worlds beneath the sky, From this fmall fpeck of earth were fent Murmurs and founds of difcontent;

The dying bleat of harmalefs lambs, Call for revenge. O ftupid race! The heart that wants revenge is bafe.

I grant, an ancient Ram replies, We bear no terror in our eyes:

H

Yet

Yet think us not of foul fo tame,
Which no repeated wrongs inflame,
Infenfible of ev'ry ill,

Because we want thy tufks to kill.
Know, those who violence purfue,
Give to themselves the vengeance due;
For in these maffacres they find

The two chief plagues that wafte mankind.
Our skin fupplies the wrangling bar;
It wakes their flumb'ring fons to war;
And well revenge may reft contented,
Since drums and parchment were invented.

128. Fable VI. The Mifer and Plutus. THE wind was high, the window shakes; With fudden start the Mifer wakes; Along the filent room he stalks; Looks back, and trembles as he walks! Each lock and ev'ry bolt he tries, In ev'ry creek and corner pries; Then opes the cheft with treasure ftor'd, And ftands in rapture o'er his hoard. But now, with fudden qualms poffeft, He wrings his hands, he beats his breaft; By confcience ftung, he wildly ftares, And thus his guilty foul declares :

Had the deep earth her ftores confin'd,
This heart had known fweet peace of mind.
But virtue's fold! Good gods! what price
Can recompence the pangs of vice?
O bane of good! feducing cheat!
Can man, weak man, thy pow'r defeat?
Gold banish'd honour from the mind,
And only left the name behind;
Gold fow'd the world with ev'ry ill;
Gold taught the murderer's fword to kill:
'Twas gold inftructed coward hearts
In treachery's more pernicious arts.
Who can recount the mifchiefs o'er ?
Virtue refides on earth no more!
He fpoke, and figh'd. In angry mood,
Plutus, his god, before him ftood.
The Mifer, trembling, lock'd his cheft;
"The vifion frown'd, and thus addrefs'd:
Whence is this vile ungrateful rant,
Each fordid rafcal's daily cant?
Did I, base wretch ! corrupt mankind ?
The fault's in thy rapacious mind.
Because my bleffings are abus'd,
Muft I be cenfur'd, curs'd, accus'd?
E'en virtue's felf by knaves is made
A cloak to carry on the trade;

And pow'r (when lodg'd in their poffeffion)
Grows tyranny, and rank oppreffion.
Thus, when the villain crams his cheft,
Gold is the canker of the breaft;
'Tis av'rice, infolence, and pride,
And ev'ry fhocking vice befide:
But when to virtuous hands 'tis given,
It bleffes like the dews of heaven:
Like Heaven, it hears the orphan's cries,
And wipes the tears from widows eyes.
Their crimes on gold fhall mifers lay,
Who pawn'd their fordid fouls for pay?

Let bravoes then (when blood is fpilt) Upbraid the paffive fword with guilt.

§ 129. Fable VII. The Lion, the Fox, and the

A

Geefe.

LION, tir'd with state affairs,

Quite fick of pomp, and worn with cares,
Refolv'd (remote from noise and strife)
In peace to pafs his latter life.

It was proclaim'd; the day was fet:
Behold the gen'ral council met.
The Fox was viceroy nam'd. The crow
To the new Regent humbly bow'd.
Wolves, bears, and mighty tigers bend,
And ftrive who moft fhall condefcend.
He ftraight affumes a folemn grace,
Collects his wifdom in his face.
The crowd admire his wit, his fenfe;
Each word hath weight and consequence.
The flatt'rer all his art difplays:
He who hath pow'r is fure of praise.
A Fox ftepp'd forth before the rest,
And thus the fervile throng addrefs'd:

How vaft his talents, born to rule,
And train'd in virtue's honest school!
What clemency his temper fways!
How uncorrupt are all his ways!
Beneath his conduct and command
Rapine fhall ceafe to wafte the land.
His brain hath ftratagem and art;
Prudence and mercy rule his heart.
What bleffings must attend the nation
Under this good administration !

He faid. A Goofe, who diftant flood,
Harangued apart the cackling brood:

Whene'er I hear a knave commend,
He bids me fhun his worthy friend.
What praife! what mighty commendation
But 'twas a Fox who fpoke th' oration.
Foxes this government may prize,
As gentle, plentiful, and wife;
If they enjoy the fweets, 'tis plain,
We Geefe muft feel a tyrant reign.
What havock now thall thin our race,
When ev'ry petty clerk in place,
To prove his tafte, and feem polite,
Will feed on Geefe both noon and night!

§ 130. Fable VIII. The Lady and the Wafp. WHAT whispers must the beauty bear!

What hourly nonfenfe haunts her ear!
Where'er her eyes difpenfe their charms,
Impertinence around her fwarms.
Did not the tender nonfenfe ftrike,
Contempt and fcorn might foon dislike:
Forbidding airs might thin the place;
The flightest flap a fly can chafe.
But who can drive the num'rous breed!
Chafe one, another will fucceed.

Who knows a fool, muft know his brother;
One fop will recommend another:
And with this plague the's rightly curft,
Because the liften'd to the Ark.

As

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