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To malice, and to mischief prone,
From climate, canton, or from zone,
All are to idle discord bent,

These Kentish men-those men of Kent;
And parties and distinctions make,
For parties and distinction's sake.
Souls sprung from an etherial flame,
However clad, are still the same;
Nor should we judge the heart or head,
By air we breathe, or earth we tread.
Give prejudices to the wind,
And let's be patriots of mankind.
Bigots, avaunt! sense can't endure ye,
But Fabulists should try to cure ye.
A snub-nos'd Dog to fat inclin'd,
Of the true hogan mogan kind,
The fav'rite of an English dame,
Mynheer Van Trompo was his name;
One morning, as he chanc'd to range,
Met honest Towzer on the 'change;
And 'Whom have we got here, I beg,'
Quoth he, and turn'd upon his leg;
'An English Dog can't take an airing,
'But foreign scoundrels must be staring.
'I'd have your French Dogs, and your Spanish,
'And all your Dutch, and all your Danish,
'By which our species is confounded,
'Be hang'd, be poison'd, or be drowned.
Well, of all dogs, it stands confess'd
'Your English Bull Dogs are the best.

'I say it, and will set my hand to 't,
'Cambden records it, and I'll stand to 't.
"Tis true we have too much urbanity,
'Somewhat o'ercharg'd with soft humanity;
The best things will be food for railing,
'And ev'ry creature has its failing.'

'And who are you?' replied Van Trump, (Curling his tail upon his rump.)

'In all fair Europe, who but we

For national economy;

'For wealth and peace, that have more charms,

'Than learned arts, or noisy arms?

'You envy us our dancing bogs,

'With all the music of the frogs.

'But, if you go to brag, good bye t'ye,
'Nor dare to brave the High and Mighty.'

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Wrong are you both,' rejoins a Quail,

Confin'd within its wiry jail :

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Frequent from realm to realm I've rang'd,

And with the seasons, climates chang'd. • Mankind is not so void of grace,

'But good I've found in every place: 'I've seen sincerity in France,

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Amongst the Germans complaisance ; 'In foggy Holland wit may reign, 'I've known humility in Spain; Freed was I by a turban'd Turk,

'Whose life was one entire good work ;

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And, in this land, fair freedom's boast,

'Behold my liberty is lost.

'Despis'd Hibernia have I seen, d 'Dejected like a widow'd queen;

• Her robe with dignity long worn,

" And of liberty were torn;

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'Her broken fife, and harp unstrung Shoko žie 'On the uncultur'd ground were flung;

'Down lay her spear, defil'd with rust,
'And book of learning in the dust ;
'Her loyalty still blameless found,
' And hospitality renown'd;

'No more the voice of fame engross'd,
'In discontent and clamour lost.-
'Hapless, disconsolate and brave,
'Hibernia! who'll Hibernia save?
'Who shall assist thee in thy woe,
'Who ward from thee the fatal blow?'

FABLE XI.

FASHION AND NIGHT.

By Smart.

FASHION-whom half the world, and more,

With blind idolatry adore—
Various herself in various climes,
She moulds the manners of the times,
And turns, in every age or nation,

The chequer'd wheel of variegation :

True female, that ne'er knew her will,
Still changing, tho' immortal still.
One day, as the inconstant maid
Was careless on her sofa laid,
Sick of the sun, and tir'd with light,
She thus invok'd the gloomy Night:
• Come-these malignant rays destroy,
Thou screen of shame, and rise of joy.
'Come from thy western ambuscade,
"Queen of the rout and masquerade :
Nymph, without thee no cards advance,
Without thee halts the loitering dance;
''Till thou approach, all, all's restraint,
'Nor is it safe to game or paint;

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The belles and beaux thy influence ask, 'Put on the universal mask.

'Let us invert, in thy disguise,
• That odious nature we despise.'

She ceas'd-the sable-mantled dame,
With slow approach, and awful, came;
And, frowning with sarcastic sneer,
Reproach'd the female rioteer :
'That nature you abuse, my fair,
'Was I created to repair.

And contrast with a friendly shade,

'The pictures Heav'n's rich pencil made;
' And with my sleep-alluring dose,
'To give laborious Art repose;

To make both noise and action cease, 'The queen of secresy and peace.

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'But thou, a rebel, vile and vain, 'Usurp'st my lawful old domain ;

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My sceptre thou affect'st to sway,
And all the various hours are day;
With clamours of unreal joy,

My sister Silence you destroy;
'The blazing lamp's unnatural light

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My eye-balls weary and affright;

But, if I am allow'd one shade,

• Which no intrusive eyes invade,

'Where all the atrocious imps of hell, 'Theft, Murder and Pollution dwell:

'I think, then, how much, thou toy of chance,

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Thy praise is likely worth t' inhance ;

'Blind thing, that run'st without a guide, Thou whirlpool in a rushing tide,

No more my fame with praise pollute, 'But censure me into repute.'

FABLE XII.

THE DUELLIST.

By Smart.

WHAT'S honour, did your Lordship say?
My Lord, I humbly crave a day.-
'Tis difficult, and, in my mind,
Like substance, cannot be defin'd.

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