6

6

'Tis true, and more delicious meat, Upon my honour, I ne'er eat;

'The eggs are good; it was ill luck 'A day I had not ten to suck;

Yet notwithstanding, to my goût,
'The bird's the sweeter of the two.'

He went on, talking pert and loud,
When an old Raven, 'mongst the croud,
Stopp'd short his insolent career—
'Why, what a monst'rous bustle's here!
You, travell'd Sir! I speak to you,
Who've pass'd so many countries thro';
Say, to what purpose is't you roam,

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And what improvements bring you home? Has Italy, on which you doat,

'Supplied you with another note?

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Or France, which you extol so high,

Taught you with better grace to fly?

'I cannot see that both together

'Have alter'd you a single feather: Then tell not us of where you've been,

6

Of what you've done, or what you've seen;

While you, and all your rambling pack,

'Cuckows go out, Cuckows come back."

FABLE LXVI.

THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER.

"TWAS that black season of the year,
In which no smiles, no charms appear;
Bare were the trees; the rivers froze;
The hills and mountains capt with snows;
When, lodging scarce, and victuals scant,
A Grasshopper address'd an Ant ;
And, in a supplicating tone,

Begg'd he would make her case his own : 'It was, indeed, a bitter task

To those who were unus'd to ask :

'Yet she was forc'd the truth to say,

She had not broke her fast that day;

'His worship, tho' with plenty bless'd,

Knew how to pity the distress'd;

A grain of corn to her was gold,

'And Heaven would yield him fifty-fold.'
The Ant beheld her wretched plight,
Nor seem'd unfeeling at the sight;
Yet, still inquisitive to know

How she became reduc'd so low,

Ask'd her, we'll e'en suppose in rhyme,• What she did all the summer time?'

In summer time, good Sir,' said she, 'Ah! these were merry months with me!

'I thought of nothing but delight,
'But sung unceasing day and night:
'Thro' yonder meadows did you pass,
'You must have heard me in the grass.'
'Ah!' cry'd the Ant, and knit his brow-
'But 'tis enough I hear you now;
'And, madam-songstress, to be plain,
'You seek my charity in vain :

'What! shall the industrious yield his due
To thriftless vagabonds like you!

'Some corn I have, but none to spare;

• Next summer learn to take more care,

And, in your frolic moods, remember,
July is follow'd by December.'

FABLE LXVII,

THE TWO FOXES.

Two hungry Foxes once agreed
To execute a bloody deed,

And make the farmers' poultry bleed.
Thus, as their rage was very hot,

Cocks, hens, and chickens went to pot.
The one (the slaughter being o'er)
Young and a perfect epicure,
Propos'd on all the spoil to sup,
And at one meal to eat it up.

}

The other old, at heart a miser,

Refus'd his scheme, and thought it wiser
To lay aside some of the prey,

And so provide for a bad day.

'Listen, my child,' says he, to age; Experience long has made me sage: 'I know the various turns of fate, How changeable is ev'ry state! A mighty treasure we have found, Success has all our wishes crown'd, 'See the vast havoc all around! ́ O let us not be lavish, son,

Nor throw away what we have won! 'O let us not consume our store,

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But, being frugal, make it more!

• Your fine harangue,' replies the other, Might take, were I a griping brother: But, as I'm generous and free,

'It ne'er shall have effect on me.

I'll live, good father, while I may

Indulge my noble self with prey,

· And feast in spite of all you say.

But, should I not-why, to our sorrow, "The fowls will stink before to-morrow. 'If we return, the clown will watch us,

And with his dogs will surely catch us.' This said, each Fox himself obey'd, Pursu'd the scheme that he had laid. The younger one fell to the meat ;And died o'ercharg'd with what he eat.

}

The old one, as with joy next morning,
To his hid spoil he was returning,
Ta'en by the farmer in surprise,
Fell by his hand a sacrifice.

Thus each man has his ruling passion,
And ev'ry age its inclination:

The young are heedless in their measures, And boundless in pursuit of pleasures. The old are all persuasion past, Self-will'd and griping to the last.

FABLE LXVIII.

THE BUTTERFLY AND THE BOY.

'Twas on a day serene and fair,
The sun was bright and æther clear,
The rocking winds were lull'd to rest,
And ev'ry murmuring gale supprest;
When, tempted by th' alluring heat,
A Butterfly forsook her seat,

To taste the sweetness of the skies,
And shew her wings of various dyes;
Restless she rov'd her narrow tour,
And fragrance sip'd from ev'ry flow'r;
And, deck'd with all the insect grace,
She sparkled fairest of her race.