Till, for her vile atrocious lies, Under their angry beaks she dies. Such was his fate whose upstart claim Obtruded on a neighbour's fame. FABLE XXXV. THE CONNOISSEURS AND THE PICTURE. By Cunningham. A PORTRAIT, at my Lord's command, For dabblers in the nice vertu His Lordship set the piece to view, 6 Why,' says the loudest, on my word, 'Tis not a likeness good, my Lord; Nor, to be plain, for speak I must, ، Can I pronounce one feature just.' 'Worse than the first'-the critics bawl; 'O what a mouth! how monstrous small! 'Look at the cheeks, how lank and thin! 'See what a most preposterous chin!' After remonstrance made in vain, 'I'll,' says the Painter, once again '(If my good Lord vouchsafes to sit) Try for a more successful hit : 'If you'll to-morrow deign to call, 'We'll have a piece to please you all." To-morrow comes,-a Picture's plac'd Before those spurious sons of Taste,In their opinions all agree This is the vilest of the three. 'Know,-to confute your envious pride,' His Lordship from the canvas cried,— 'Know, that it is my real face - Where you could no resemblance trace: I've tried you by a lucky trick, 'And prov'd your genius to the quick. 'Void of all judgment-justice-sense'Out-ye pretending Varlets!-hence.' The Connoisseurs depart in haste, Despis'd-detected-and disgrac'd. FABLE XXXVI. THE YOUTH AND THE PHILOSOPHER. By William Whitehead. A GRECIAN Youth, of talents rare, Would often boast his matchless skill, Was praise and transport to his breast. At length quite vain, he needs would shew His master what his art could do; The Youth arriv'd, with forward air, And now along th' indented plain, Such skill and judgment thrown away. 'The time profusely squander'd there, 'On vulgar arts beneath thy care, 'If well employ'd, at less expence, 'Had taught thee honour, virtue, sense, 'And rais'd thee from a Coachman's fate, govern men, and guide the state.' FABLE XXXVII. THE WOLF AND THE LAMB. FROM PHEDRUS. By Graves. A WOLF and Lamb, one sultry day, The Wolf stood near the fountain's head; With fell intent the Lamb salutes : 'You, Sir, stand off! you tread the brink in, And mud the stream so, there's no drinking!' The harmless Lamb, with much surprize, Looks up, and, trembling, thus replies: 'I can't conceive how that can be, Sir; 'The stream runs down from you to me, Sir!' You can't conceive! Come, don't be saucy; 'Ill let you know, Sir, what the laws say,— 'Besides you mutter'd, so and so, 'Behind my back, six months ago.' Upon my word, Sir, you mistake '(Don't angry be, for Heaven's sake ;) |