The Goat remark'd her Pulfe was high,
Her languid Head, her heavy Eye;
My Back, fays he, may do you Harm;
The Sheep's at hand, and Wool is warm.
The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd,
His Sides a Load of Wool fuftain'd.
Said he was flow, confeft his Fears
For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.
She now the trotting Calf addrest, To fave from Death a Friend distrest.
Shall I, fays he, of tender Age,
In this important Care engage?
Older and abler past you by ;
How ftrong are thofe how weak am I!
Should I prefume to bear you hence,
Thofe Friends of mine may take Offence.
Excufe me then. You know my Heart:
But dearest Friends, alas, muft part!
How fhall we all lament! Adieu.
For fee the Hounds are just in View.
EATH on a folemn Night of State, In all his Pomp of Terrors fate; Th' Attendants on his gloomy Reign, Diseases dire, a ghaftly Train,
Croud the vaft Court. With hollow Tone A Voice thus thunder'd from the Throne.
This Night our Minister we name, Let ev'ry Servant fpeak his Claim; Merit fhall bear this Ebon Wand.
All at the Word ftretch'd forth their Hand.
Fever, with burning Heat poffeft,
Advanc'd, and for the Wand addrest.
I to the weekly Bills appeal;
Let thofe exprefs my fervent Zeal,
On ev'ry flight Occafion near,
With Violence I per fevere.
Next Gout appears, with limping Pace,
Pleads how he shifts from Place to Place,
From Head to Foot how fwift he flies,
And ev'ry Joint and Sinew plies;
Still working when he seems fuppreft,
A most tenacious, stubborn Guest.
A haggard Spectre from the Crew
Crawls forth, and thus afferts his Due.
"Tis I who taint the fweeteft Joy,
And in the Shape of Love deftroy :
My Shanks, funk Eyes, and nofeless Face,
Prove my Pretenfions to the Place.
Stone urg'd his ever-growing Force,
And, next, Confumption's meagre Corfe,
With feeble Voice that fcarce was heard,
Broke with fhort Coughs, his Suit preferr❜d:"
Let none object my ling'ring Way,
I gain, like Fabius, by Delay,
Fatigue, and weaken ev'ry Foe
By long Attack, fecure tho' flow.
Plague represents his rapid Power, Who thinn'd a Nation in an Hour.
All spoke their Claim, and hop'd the Wand, Now Expectation hufh'd the Band;
When thus the Monarch from the Throne:
Merit was ever modest known.
What, no Phyfician speak his Right!
None here ?-But Fees their Toils requite.
Let then Intemp❜rance take the Wand,
Who fills with Gold their zealous Hand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the Rest,
(Whom wary Men, as Foes, deteft)
Forego your Claim; no more pretend:
Intemp'rance is esteem'd a Friend;
He shares their Mirth, their focial Joys,
And as a courted Guest destroys,
The Charge on him muft juftly fall,
Who finds Employment for you all.
MYLO, forbear to call him bleft,
That only boasts a large Estate:
Should all the Treasures of the Weft
Meet, and confpire to make him great,
I know thy better Thoughts, I know
Thy Reason can't defcend fo low.
Let a broad Stream with golden Sands
Thro' all his Meadows roll,
He's but a Wretch, with all his Lands,
That wears a narrow Soul.
He fwells amidst his wealthy Store,
And proudly poizing what he weighs,
In his own Scale he fondly lays
Huge Heaps of fhining Ore,
He spreads the Balance wide to hold
His Manors and his Farms,
And cheats the Beam with Loads of Gold
He hugs between his Arms.
So might the Plough-Boy climb a Tree,
When Crafus mounts his Throne,
And both stand up, and smile to fee
How long their Shadow's grown.
Alas! how vain their Fancies be
To think that Shape their own!
Thus mingled ftill with Wealth and State,
Crafus himself can never know;
His true Dimenfions and his Weight
Are far inferior to their Show.
Were I fo tall to reach the Pole,
Or grafp the Ocean with my Span,
I must be measur'd by my Soul:
The Mind's the Standard of the Man.
ASPEECH of King Henry the Fourth, upon his receiving News in the Night, of the Rebellion of the Earl of Northumberland. SHAKESPEAR.
TOW many Thousands of my poorest Subjects
Are at this Hour afleep! O gentle Sleep!
Nature's foft Nurfe, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my Eye-lids down,
And steep my Senfes in forgetfulness ?
Why rather, Sleep, lyest thou in smoaky Huts,
Upon uneafy Pallets ftretching thee,
And hufht with buzzing Night-flies to thy Slumber;
Than in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great,
And lull'd with Sounds of fweetest Melody?
O thou dull God! why lyeft thou with the Vile
In loathsome Beds, and leav'ft the Kingly Couch
Beneath rich Canopies of coftly State,
A Watch-cafe to a common 'Larum-bell ?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy Maft,
Seal up the Ship-boy's Eyes, and rock his Brains,
In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge;
And in the Vifitation of the Winds,
Who take the ruffian Billows by the Top,
Curling their monftrous Heads and hanging them
With deaf'ning Clamours in the flippery Shrouds,
That, with the Hurly, Death itself awakes?
Canft, thou, O partial Sleep! give thy Repofe
To the wet Sea-boy, in an Hour fo rude?
And, in the calmeft, and the stilleft Night,
With all Appliances and Means to boot,
Deny it to a King? Then, happy, lowly Clown,
Uneafy lies the Head that wears a Crown.
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