"Unmov'd their heart, and chill'd their blood,
To every thought of common good,
Confining every hope and care

To their own low contracted sphere."
These ran him down with ceaseless cry,
But found it hard to tell you why,
Till his own worth and wit supply'd
Sufficient matter to deride:

"'Tis Envy's safest, surest rule,
To hide her rage in ridicule :
The vulgar eye she best beguiles,

When all her snakes are deck'd with smiles :
Sardonick smiles, by rancour rais'd!
Tormented most when seeming pleas'd !"
Their spite had more than half expir'd,
Had he not wrote what all admir'd;
What morsels had their malice wanted,
But that he built, and plann'd, and planted!
How had his sense and learning griey'd them,
But that his charity reliev'd them!

"At highest worth dull Malice reaches, As slugs pollute the fairest peaches:

Envy defames, as harpies vile

Devour the food they first defile."

Now ask the fruit of all his favour-m

"He was not hitherto a saver."

What then could make their rage run mad?
Why what he hop'd, not what he had.
"What tyrant e'er invented ropes,
Or racks, or rods, to punish hopes?
Th' inheritance of Hope and Fame
Is seldom Earthly Wisdom's aim;
Or, if it were, is not so small,
But there is room enough for all.”

If he but chance to breathe a song,
(He seldom sang, and never long)
The noisy, rude, malignant crowd,
Where it was high, pronounc'd it loud :

Plain Truth was Pride; and what was sillier,
Easy and Friendly was Familiar.

Or, if he tun'd his lofty lays,
With solemn air to Virtue's praise,
Alike abusive and erroneous,

They call'd it hoarse and unharmonious:
Yet so it was to souls like theirs,
Tuneless as Abel to the bears!

A Rook with harsh malignant caw
Began, was follow'd by a Daw† ;

(Though some, who would be thought to know, Are positive it was a Crow)

Jack Daw was seconded by Tit,

Tom Tit could write, and so he writ;
A tribe of tuneless praters follow,
The Jay, the Magpie, and the Swallow;
And twenty more their throats let loose,
Down to the witless waddling Goose.

Some peck'd at him, some flew, some flutter'd,
Some hiss'd, some scream'd, and others mutter'd:
The Crow, on carrion wont to feast,
The Carrion Crow condemn'd his taste:
The Rook in earnest too, not joking,
Swore all his singing was but croaking.

Some thought they meant to show their wit, Might think so still-" but that they writ"Could it be spite or envy ;-" No"Who did no ill, could have no foe."

So Wise Simplicity esteem'd,

Quite otherwise True Wisdom deem'd;

This question rightly understood,

"What more provokes than doing good? A soul ennobled and refin'd

Reproaches every baser mind:"

Dr. T

F.

tRight hon. Rich. Tighe. F.

Dr. Sheridan. F.

As strains exalted and melodious
Make every meaner musick odious."-
At length the Nightingale was heard,
For voice and wisdom long rever'd,
Esteem'd of all the wise and good,
The Guardian Genius of the wood:
He long in discontent retir'd,
Yet not obscur'd, but more admir'd ;
His brethren's servile souls disdaining,
He liv'd indignant and complaining:
They now afresh provoke his choler,
(It seems the Lark had been his scholar,
A favourite scholar always near him,
And oft had wak'd whole nights to hear him)
Enrag'd he canvasses the matter,
Exposes all their senseless chatter,
Shows him and them in such a light,
As more enflames, yet quells their spite.
They hear his voice, and frighted fly,
For rage had rais'd it very high:

Sham'd by the wisdom of his notes,

They hide their heads, and hush their throats.

ANSWER TO DR. DELANY'S FABLE

OF THE PHEASANT AND THE LARK,

In ancient times, the wise were able
In proper terms to write a fable:
Their tales would always justly suit
The characters of every brute.

VOL. XI.

Dean Swift. F.

The ass was dull, the lion brave,

The stag was swift, the fox a knave;

The daw a thief, the ape a droll,

The hound would scent, the wolf would prowl: A pigeon would, if shown by

sop,

Fly from the hawk, or pick his pease up.
Far otherwise a great divine
Has learnt his fables to refine :
He jumbles men and birds together,
As if they all were of a feather:
You see him first the peacock bring,
Against all rules, to be a king';
That in his tail he wore his eyes,
By which he grew both rich and wise.
Now, pray, observe the Doctor's choice,
A peacock chose for flight and voice:
Did ever mortal see a peacock
Attempt a flight above a hay cock?
And for his singing, Doctor, you know,
Himself complain'd of it to Juno.
He squalls in such a hellish noise,
He frightens all the village boys.
This peacock kept a standing force,
In regiments of foot and horse:
Had statesmen too of every kind,
Who waited on his eyes behind;
And this was thought the highest post;
For, rule the rump, you rule the roast.
The Doctor names but one at present,
And he of all birds was a pheasant.
This pheasant was a man of wit,
Could read all books were ever writ;
And, when among companions privy,
Could quote your Cicero and Livy.
Birds, as he says, and I allow,
Were scholars then, as we are now;
Could read all volumes up to folios,
And feed on fricassees and olios:

This Pheasant by the Peacock's will,
Was viceroy of a neighbouring hill;
And, as he wander'd in his park,
He chanc'd to spy a clergy Lark;
Was taken with his person outward,
So prettily he pick'd a cow-t-d :
Then in a net the Pheasant caught him,
And in his palace fed and taught him.
The moral of the tale is pleasant,
Himself the lark, my lord the pheasant:
A lark he is, and such a lark

As never came from Noah's ark:
And though he had no other notion,
But building, planning, and devotion;
Though 'tis a maxim you must know,
"Who does no ill, can have no foe;"
Yet how can I express in words
The strange stupidity of birds?
This lark was hated in the wood,
Because he did his brethren good.
At last the Nightingale comes in,
To hold the Doctor by the chin:
We all can find out what he means,
The worst of disaffected deans:
Whose wit at best was next to none,
And now that little next is gone,
Against the court is always blabbing,
And calls the senate-house a cabin;
So dull, that but for spleen and spite,
We ne'er should know that he could write;
Who thinks the nation always err'd,
Because himself is not preferr'd:

His heart is through his libel seen,
Nor could his malice spare the queen :
Who, had she known his vile behaviour,
Would ne'er have shown him so much favour.