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The timber all was rotten grown,— In short the house was tumbling down. The gen'rous beast, by pity sway'd, Griev'd to behold it thus decay'd; And, while he mourn'd the tatter'd scene, The master of the lodge came in. The first congratulations o'er, They rest recumbent on the floor; When, thus, the young conceited beast His thoughts impertinent express'd : 'I long have been surpris'd to find 'The Lion grown so wond'rous kind To one peculiar sort of beasts, 'While he another sort detests; 'His royal favour chiefly falls

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Upon the species of Jackalls;

They share the profits of his throne, 'He smiles on them, and them alone. 'Meanwhile the Ferret's useful race 'He scarce admits to see his face; Traduc'd by lies and ill report, 'They're banish'd from his royal court, 'And counted, over all the plain,

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Opposers of the Lion's reign.

'Now I conceiv'd a scheme last night 'Would doubtless set this matter right: 'These parties should unite together, 'The Lion partial be to neither, 'But let them both his favour share, 'And both consult in peace and war

This method (were this method tried)
Would spread politic basis wide,
'And, on a bottom broad and strong,
Support the social union long.

'But uncle, uncle, much I fear,
'Some have abus'd the Lion's ear;
'He listens to the Leopard's tongue;
• That wicked Leopard leads him wrong:
'Were he but banish'd far away-

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'You don't attend to what I say!'

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Why really, Coz,' the Sage rejoin'd, The rain, and snow, and driving wind, 'Beat thro' with such prodigious force, "It made me deaf to your discourse.

Now, Coz, were my advice pursu'd,

(And sure I mean it for your good) 'Methinks you should this house repair; 'Be this your first and chiefest care. 'Your skill the voice of prudence calls To stop these crannies in the walls, · And prop the roof before it falls. 'If you this needful task perform, 'You'll make your mansion dry and warm; And we may then converse together, 'Secure from this tempestuous weather.'

FABLE IX.

THE TWO STATUES.

By John Whaley.

IN days of yore, a Grecian state, On a proud Temple's utmost height, Which was to their Minerva rais'd, Resolv❜d a Statue should be plac'd, Expressive of the goddess' charms, Complete in beauty and in arms. Two masters then of rival fame, In sculpture each a Phidias, came, And to them thus the Senate said: By each a Statue shall be made; 'And he, whose nicer hand excels, 'Whose happier art the public tells; 'A golden talent shall receive, 'Besides the joys that fame can give. 'But he, whose vanquish'd hand shall foil, 'Disgrace alone shall pay his toil.'

Each then with equal hopes began,
Inspir'd by glory and by gain,
Complete the work with utmost care:
They to the temple straight repair,
And in the portico are plac'd

The marbles, variously grac'd:
While from the crowd's admiring eyes

Each anxious master waits the prize.

The one each soul with pleasure struck; /
On that all eyes directed look.

Ten thousand charms adorn the piece,
The waist grew beautifully less;

With happy roundings swell'd the breast,
A master's hand each stroke confess'd:

With such bright lightnings flashed the eyes,'
As ne'er had lost the golden prize :
Charms o'er each attitude were thrown,
And harmony inform'd the stone.

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From t' other wretched piece, with scorn (177 And indignation mix'd, they turn ; The awkward, rough, unpolish'd stone Scarce seem'd the chissel's touch to own. The eyes with clumsy largeness glar'd; The face was masculinely hard: The wretched sculptor they despise, And undisputed thought the prize. The artist stood attentive by, Sedate his mind, and fix'd his eye. But, calm, at length, the silence broke, And to the murm'ring people spoke

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Hold, hold, good folks, not quite so fast,
Nothing is gain'd by too much haste.
Pray, neighbours, was this statue made
To be i' th' portico survey'd,

'Or to be plac'd upon the dome?
'That is the statue's proper home.
And, then, let brother Phidias see
'Who's in the right, himself, or me.'

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Up then with speed both ladies mount;
And, oh! how different the account.
The statue, erst so much desir'd,
By ev'ry eye so much admir'd,
In vain its curious strokes displays,
Surpris'd its old admirers gaze;
While to the distant failing eyes
Each feature's lost, each beauty dies.
The other, now, by distance grac'd,
And in its light intended plac'd;
With beauties shines, till then unknown,
And looks with air majestic down.
The shield a reg'lar orb displays,
The snakes in just proportion blaze:
And the whole fills the gazing eye
With splendours as it seeks the sky.
To judge aright in ev'ry case,
Let each thing hold its proper place.

FABLE X.

THE ENGLISH BULL-DOG, DUTCH MASTIFF, AND QUAIL.

By Christopher Smart.

ARE we not all of race divine,

Alike of an immortal line?

Shall man to man afford derision,

But for some casual division?

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