Thy friends, thy patriot friends, 'tis faid,
In pure regard all with thee dead.
Thy foes a diff'rent inftance give,
For they all wish that thou may'st live
The SNARLING PUG and DANCING BEAR. A FABLE.
Addreffed to Mers. HOGARTH and CHURCHILL.
EST, Hogarth, thou shouldft draw again
Thy failing pencil 'gainst the pen ;
Or Churchill, fcorning to give out,
Should prove lefs merciful than ftout;
To an apt tale, an equal friend
To both, requests you to attend.
Three fifters, daughters of the town,
(A family of fome renown)
Together liv'd, tho' fingle lives,
Jangling as husbands and their wives.
The firft, like Tristram nam'd in haste,
Was chriften'd, by mifnomer, Tafte;
A fplenetic and formal prude,
Averfe to all that's low or rude;
Fainting at ev'ry odious jeft,
And starch as any quaker dreft;
So nice, fo finical, fo quaint!
No finner fure so much a faint!
For this was all a fair outfide,
Her vice and vanity to hide.
The fecond, a fantastic dame,
As modifh in her dress as name;
A batter'd ftrumpet, Fashion hight,
The bane of many a living wight;
A grey coquet, whofe magic pow'r,
Tho' wafting with the prefent hour,
Her charms deciduous but decay,
To sprout again some future day;
While thus alternate youth and age,
By turns her votaries engage,
And still with conftancy maintain
Her most inconftant tyrant reign.
The third, a female full of zeal,
Still flaming for the common-weal;
Tho' as her fifter, Fashion, guides,
Alternate taking different fides;
Now a rank tory, talking big,
And now a grumbling stedfaft whig.
Or, when no business of the nation
Sets her warm blood in fermentation,
As keen fhe flies at lower game,
A poet's or a painter's fame:
Alike fhe raves, alike the bounces,
About pink furbelows and flounces;
In every caufe fincere and hearty,
Her name, as well as nature, Party.
Now ancient maids, and barren wives,
Who lead unprofitable lives,
Full often keep (the devil rout 'em)
A pack of animals about 'em ;
Dogs, cats, or monkies, fubstitutes
For children, oft lefs natural brutes.
Thus did our jarring fifters three,
Keep a well-ftock'd menagerie;
Whither each quadruped and biped
By gentle treatment was invited;
Or bird or beaft, or fair or frightful,
For the more strange, the more delightful.
Accordingly in numbers came,
Domeftic, foreign, wild and tame ;
From Stade and Norway, noble rats;
From Italy, fine warbling cats;
Taught by Marcel himself to dance,
A troop of apes skipp'd o'er from France;
From Turkey, tutor'd in the east,
An Irish renegado beaft,
That like a Bornean ape could fwing,
Or trot upon an iron ftring.
Next from St. Omer's learned college,
There came a prodigy of knowledge;
A Chien Sçavant, or dog of parts,
At least a bachelor of arts;
That knew the Greek and Latin better
Than all th' academy de Belles Lettres.
But more than all, a dancing bear,
And fav'rite pug, engag'd their care.
The latter, as a dog of merit,
Was cherish'd for his former fpirit;
For he, though now much paft his prime,
Had been an odd dog in his time;
Would fetch and carry, leap o'er sticks,
And play a thousand comic tricks.
Him had our ladies long preferr'd
To be their doughty body-guard.
Hence in the parlour was he plac'd,
And with a filver collar grac❜d;
On a foft velvet cushion feated,
And by all three moft kindly treated:
Whence, growing infolent and proud,
He growl'd fo fierce, and bark'd fo loud,
That not another dog or cat
About the house, dar'd smell a rat,
Or fet a foot into the parlour,
For fear of this eternal fnarler;
Who, like a greedy, envious elf,
Lov'd no one creature but himself.
Rough Bruin, but as yet a cub
Unlick'd, and yet unwean'd from bub
Was boarded with a neighbouring vicar,
And nurtur'd with his fav'rite liquor.
Hence, growing sturdy and mischievous,
He oft committed outrage grievous;
Made a cat's paw of Tom's, the moufer,
And plagu'd to death poor harmless Touzer;
Drown'd old Grimalkin, and in ire,
Threw playful kittens in the fire.
For, out of wantonnefs or fpite,
In mifchief lay his fole delight;
Tho' fome excufe him, and will fay,
That what he did was but in play,
The maggots of a dancing bear,
To make the people hoot and stare;
As if dame Nature form'd one half
The world, to make the other laugh.
At length, however, most unruly,
He fell upon his keeper, truly!
And, when corrected, threw him down,
And trampled on the parfon's gown;
Made e'en a kennel of the church,
And left his feeders in the lurch.
Meanwhile, as ftrolling up and down,
The fport and terror of the town,
His brother brutes he chanc'd to fee,
That lodg'd in the menagerie.
Here the firft fcene that caught his eye,
Was a broad ftage, erected high;
On which a fet of mimic apes
Play'd monkey-tricks in various fhapes;
Grinn'd, chatter'd, laugh'd, and made fuch faces,
That Bruin, piqu'd at their grimaces,
Scrambled aloft, refolv'd to rout 'em,
And with his bear's paws laid about him ;
Hugging each monkey-dog and bitch,
As loving Satan hugg'd the witch;
While the poor devils fcream aloud,
The jeft and pity of the crowd.
Next, in a neighbouring charnel vault,
He fmok'd a pack of hounds at fault,
By fome fpay'd bitch's nofe mifled,
To fnuffle there among the dead,
In fearch of Fanny's knocking ghoft,
Of whom the fcent in ftink was loft.
But Bruin never wanted fcent
After whatever game he went;
But fmelt her out, and, to be doing,
Fell foul upon a brother Bruin,
Pompofo fam'd, as rude a bear,
As e'er was fhewn in Southwark fair;
Ill-favour'd, clumfy, and uncouth,
The verieft monfter of the booth.
His waters Bruin closely watch'd;
When hurt, Pompofo, over-match'd,
And fairly worsted in the fray,
Growl'd, and turn'd tail, and flunk away.
Flush'd with fuccefs, and fond of fame,
Now Bruin ran at higher game;
Nay fome (tho' thefe we don't rely on)
Pretend he dar'd to attack the lion.
But brutes, as well as men, 'tis known,
Pay a due deference to the throne.
Certain it is, he made fine sport
Of th' o'ergrown jackalls of the court,
And caus'd the reft to quake for fear
Around the country far and pear.
His triumphs envious Pug had feen,
And, half devour'd with fpight and fpleen,
Another quadruped to fee,
More fear'd and mischievous than he;
Refolv'd to affail this mighty beaft,
Or give himself fuch airs, at least,
That folks might think he did not fear him,
So growl'd whenever he came near him.
His miftrefs Party, hence mistaken,
Till much too late to fave his bacon,
Unequal match! her fav'rite's ruin!
Slipt poor prefumptuous Pug at Bruin;
Unknowing that, tho' bark he might,
His toothlefs gums no more could bite.
But roughly-gentle Bruin feiz'd,
And foftly firft old Puggy fqueez'd;
Who, thinking all the mischief done
His foe could do, kept barking on.
When now, enrag'd at hapless Pug,
He gave him fuch a curfed hug,
That well nigh all his bones he broke,
So dev'lish ferious was the joke;
Then threw the limping fnarler down,
To howl and pifs about the town.
Such ever is the fate of those,
Who wantonly make folks their foes,
Or, quarrelfome, provoke the fight
With bravoes of fuperior might.
And thus e'en Bruin's felf may catch
A tartar, who may prove his match;
And to fome future tyger bow,
As low as Pug to him doth now.
On feeing the Pictures of LovAT and WILKES, drawn by HOCARTH. FROM forty-five to fixty-three,
What changes times do bring?
'Tis now as bad to hate the Scot
As then to hate the King.
Old Lovat lov'd a Stuart well,
Hogarth his picture drew;
Wilkes hates a Stuart from his heart,
And Hogarth joins the two.
|