And his weak opposite to brave.--
The breeze retreated to a cave
To shelter, till the raging blast
Had spent its fury and was past.

THE CROW AND THE OTHER
BIRDS.

CONTAINING AN USEFUL HINT TO THE CRITICS.

Is ancient times, tradition says,

When birds like men would strive for praise;
The bullfinch, nightingale, and thrush,
With all that chant from tree or bush,
Wou'd often meet in song to vie;
The kinds that sing not, sitting by.
A knavish crow, it seems, had got
The nack to criticise by rote;
He understood each learned phrase,
As well as critics now-a-days:

Some say, he learn'd them from an owl,
By list'ning where he taught a school.
"Tis strange to tell, this subtil creature,
Though nothing musical by nature,
Had learn'd so well to play his part,
With nonsense couch'd in terms of art,
As to be own'd by all at last
Director of the public taste.
Then puff'd with insolence and pride,
And sure of numbers on his side,
Each song he freely criticis'd;
What he approv'd not, was despis'd:
But one false step in evil hour
For ever stript him of his pow'r.
Once when the birds assembled sat,
All list'ning to his formal chat;
By instinct nice he chanc'd to find
A cloud approaching in the wind,
And ravens hardly can refrain

From croaking when they think of rain;
His wonted song he sung: the blunder
Amaz'd and scar'd them worse than thunder;
For no one thought so harsh a note
Cou'd ever sound from any throat;
They all at first with mute surprise
Each on his neighbour turn'd his eyes:
But scorn succeeding soon took place,
And might be read in ev'ry face.
All this the raven saw with pain,
And strove his credit to regain.

Quoth he, "The solo which ye heard
In public shou'd not have appear'd;
The trifle of an idle hour,
To please my mistress once when sour:
My voice, that's somewhat rough and strong,
Might chance the melody to wrong,
But, try'd by rules, you'll find the grounds,
Most perfect and harmonious sounds."—
He reason'd thus; but to his trouble,
At every word the laugh grew double.
At last o'ercome with shame and spite,
He flew away quite out of sight.

THE HARE AND THE PARTAN. The chief design of this fable is to give a true specimen of the Scotch dialect, where it may be supposed to be most perfect, namely, in

[Perten] A Crab,

Mid-Lothian, the seat of the capital. The
style is precisely that of the vulgar Scotch;
and that the matter might be suitable to it, I
chose for the subject a little story adapted to
the ideas of peasants. It is a tale commonly
told in Scotland among the country people;
and may be looked upon as of the kind of those
aniles fabellæ, in which Horace observes his
country neighbours were accustomed to con-
vey their rustic philosophy.

A canny man will scarce provoke
Ae 3 creature livin, for a joke;
For be they weak or be they strang,

A jibe leaves after it a stang

To mak them think on't; and a laird7
May find a begger sae prepar'd,

Wi pawks and wiles, whar pith 9 is wantin,
As soon will mak him rue his tauntin.
Ye hae my moral, if am able

All fit it nicely wi a fable.

A hare, ae morning, chanc'd to see
A partan creepin on a lee1o,
A fishwife "wha was early oot
Had drapt 12 the creature thereaboot.
Mawkin 13 bumbas'd '4 and frighted sair
To see a thing but hide and hair',
Which if it stur'd not might be taen 17
For naething ither than a stane 18.
A squunt-wise 19, wambling20 sair beset
Wi gerse and rashes like a net,

al

1 Drapt] Dropt.

13 Mawkin] Acant name for a hare, like that of Reynard for a fox, or Grimalkin for a cat, &c. 14 Bumbas'd] Astonish'd.

5 Sair] Sore. I shall observe, once for all that the Scotch avoid the vowels o and u; and have in innumerable instances supplied their places with a and e, or dipththongs in which these letters are predominant.

16 But hide and hair] Without hide and hair. "Taen] Taken.

18 Naething ither than a stane] Nothing other than a stone.

A squunt-wise] Obliquely or asquat. "Wambling] A feeble motion like that of a worm or serpent.

Gerse and rashes] Grass and rushes. The

"Hold, hold, my friend, all this I know, and

more;

An ancient bard has told us long before;
And by examples easily decided,

That folks of the same trades are most divided.
But folks of diff'rent trades that hunt for fame
Are constant rivals, and their ends the same:
It needs no proof, you'll readily confess,
That merit envies merit more or less:
The passion rules alike in those who share
Of public reputation, or despair.

Varrus has knowledge, humour, taste, and sense,
Cou'd purchase laurels at a small expense;
But wise and learn'd, and eloquent in vain,
He sleeps at ease in pleasure's silken chain:
Will Varrus help you to the Muse's crown,
Which, but for indolence, might be his own?
Timon with art and industry aspires

To fame; the world applauds him, and admires:
Timon has sense, and will not blame a line
He knows is good, from envy or design:
Some gen❜ral praise he'll carelessly express,
Which just amounts to none, and sometimes less:
But if his penetrating sense should spy
Such beauties as escape a vulgar eye,
So finely couch'd, their value to enhance,
That all are pleas'd, yet think they're pleas'd by
chance;

Rather than blab such secrets to the throng,
He'd lose a finger, or bite off his tongue.
Narcissus is a beau, but not an ass,

He likes your works, but most his looking-glass;
Will he to serve you quit his favourite care,
Turn a book-pedant and offend the fair?
Clelia to taste and judgment may pretend;
She will not blame your verse, nor dares com-
mend:

A modest virgin always shuns dispute;
Soft Strephon likes you not, and she is mute.
Stern Aristarchus, who expects renown
From ancient merit rais'd, and new knock'd
down,

For faults in every syllable will pry,
Whate'er he finds is good he'll pass it by."
"Hold, hold, enough! All act from private
ends;

[pore,

Hesiod.

At first when savage men in quest of food,
Like lions, wolves and tigers, rang'd the wood,
They had but just what simple nature craves,
Their garments skins of beasts, their houses

caves.

When prey abounded, from its bleeding dam
Pity would spare a kidling or a lamb,

Which, with their children nurs'd and fed at.. home,

Soon grew domestic and forgot to roam:
From such beginnings flocks and herds were seen
To spread and thicken on the woodland green:
With property, injustice soon began, [man.
And they that prey'd on beasts now prey'd on
Communities were fram'd, and laws to bind

In social intercourse the human kind.

These things were new, they had not got theis names,

And right and wrong were yet uncommon themes The rustic senator, untaught to draw Conclusions in morality or law,

Of every term of art and science bare, Wanted plain words his sentence to declare; Much more at length to manage a dispute, To clear, inforce, illustrate and confute; Fable was then found out, 'tis worth your heeds | And answer'd all the purposes of pleading. [ing, It won the head with unsuspected art,

And touch'd the secret springs that move the heart:

With this premis'd, I add, that men delight
To have their first condition still in sight.
Long since the sires of Brunswick's line forsook
The hunter's bow, and dropt the shepherd's
crook :

Yet, 'midst the charms of royalty, their race
Still loves the forest, and frequents the chase.
The high-born maid, whose gay apartments shine
With the rich produce of each Indian mine,
Sighs for the open fields, the past'ral hook,
To sleep delightful near a warbling brook;
And loves to read the ancient tales that tell
How queens themselves fetch'd water from the
well.

If this is true, and all affect the ways
Of patriarchal life in former days,
Fable must please the stupid, the refin'd,
Wisdom's first dress to court the op'ning mind."
"You reason well, cou'd nature hold her course,
Where vice exerts her tyranny by force:
Are natural pleasures suited to a taste,
Where nature's laws are alter'd and defac'd?
The healthful swain who treads the dewy mead,
Enjoys the music warbled o'er his head;
Feels gladness at his heart while he inhales
The fragrance wafted in the balmy gales.
Not so Silenus from his night's debauch,
Fatigu'd and sick, he looks upon his watch
With theumy eyes and forehead aching sore,
And staggers home to bed to belch and snore;
For such a wretch in vain the morning glows,
For him in vain the vernal zephyr blows:

Gross pleasures are his taste, his life a chain
Of feverish joys, of lassitude and pain.
Trust not to nature in such times as these,
When all is off the hinge, can nature please?
Discard all useless scruples, be not nice;
Like some folks laugh at virtue, flatter vice,
Boldly attack the mitre or the crown;
Religion shakes already, push it down:
Do every thing to please?—You shake your head:
Why then 'tis certain that you'll ne'er succeed:
Dismiss your Muse, and take your full repose;
What none will read 'tis useless to compose."-

"A good advice! to follow it is hard.-
Quote one example, name me but a bard
Who ever hop'd Parnassus' heights to climb,
That dropt his Muse, till she deserted him.
A cold is caught, this med'cine can expel,
The dose is thrice repeated, and you're well.
In man's whole frame there is no crack or flaw
But yields to Bath, to Bristol, or to Spa:
No drug poetic frenzy can restrain,
Ev'n hellebore itself is try'd in vain :
'Tis quite incurable by human skill;
And though it does but little good or ill,
Yet still it meets the edge of reformation,
Like the chief vice and nuisance of the nation.
The formal quack, who kills his man each day,
Passes uncensur'd, and receives his pay.
Old Aulus, nodding 'midst the lawyers strife,
Wakes to decide on property and life.
Yet not a soul will blame him, and insist
That he should judge to purpose, or desist.
At this address how would the courtiers laugh!
My lord, you're always blundering: quit your
staff:

You've lost some reputation, and 'tis best
To shift before you grow a public jest.'
This none will think of, though 'tis more a crime
To mangle state-affairs, than murder rhyme.
The quack, you'll say, has reason for his killing,
He cannot eat unless he earns his shilling.
The worn-out lawyer clambers to the bench
That he may live at ease, and keep his wench;
The courtier toils for something higher far,
And hopes for wealth, new titles and a star;

While moon-struck poets in a wild-goose chase
Pursue contempt, and begg'ry, and disgrace."
"Be't so; I claim by precedent and rule
A free-born Briton's right, to play the fool:
My resolution's fix'd, my course I'll hold
In spite of all your arguments when told :
Whether I'm well and up, or keep my bed,
Am warm and full, or neither cloth'd nor fed,
Whether my fortune's kind, or in a pet,
Am banish'd by the laws, or fled for debt;
Whether in Newgate, Bedlam, or the Mint,
I'll write as long as publishers will print."
"Unhappy lad, who will not spend your time
To better purpose than in useless rhyme:
Of but one remedy your case admits,
The king is gracious, and a friend to wits;
Pray write for him, nor think your labour lost,
Your verse may gain a pension or a post."

'May Heav'n forbid that this auspicious reign
Shou'd furnish matter for a poet's strain:
The praise of conduct steady, wise, and good,
In prose is best express'd and understood.
Nor are those sov'reigns blessings to their age
Whose deeds are sung, whose actions grace the

stage.

A peaceful river, whose soft current feeds
The constant verdure of a thousand meads,
Whose shaded banks afford a safe retreat
From winter's blasts and summer's sultry heat,
From whose pure wave the thirsty peasant drains
Those tides of health that flow within his veins,
Passes unnotic'd; while the torrent strong
Which bears the shepherds and their flocks along,
Arm'd with the vengeance of the angry skies,
Is view'd with admiration and surprise;
Employs the painter's hand, the poet's quill,
And rises to renown by doing ill.
Verse form'd for falshood makes ambition shine,
Dubs it immortal, and almost divine;
But qualities which fiction ne'er can raise
It always lessens when it strives to praise."

"Then take your way, 'tis folly to contend With those who know their faults, but will not mend."