Defcend; fo help me Jove as you shall find
That Reynard comes of no diffembling kind.
Nay, quoth the cock; but I befhrew us both,
If I believe a faint upon his oath :

An honest man may take a knave's advice,
But idiots only may be cozen'd twice:

Once warn'd is well bewar'd; not flattering lies
Shall footh me more to fing with winking eyes,
And open mouth, for fear of catching flies.
Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim,
When he should fee, has he deferv'd to swim?
Better, fir cock, let all contention cease,

Come down, faid Reynard, let us treat of peace.

A

peace with all my foul, faid Chanticleer;

But, with your favour, I will treat it here: And, left the truce with treafon should be mixt, 'Tis my concern to have the tree betwixt.

THE MORA L.

In this plain fable you th' effect may fee
Of negligence, and fond credulity:
And learn befides of flatterers to beware,
Then moft pernicious when they speak too fair.
The cock and fox, the fool and knave imply ;
The truth is moral, though the tale a lye.
Who fpoke in parables, I dare not say;
But fure he knew it was a pleafing way,
Sound fenfe, by plain example, to convey.
And in a heathen author we may find,
That pleasure with inftruction fhould be join'd;
So ake the corn, and leave the chaff behind.

THE

THE FLOWER AND

THE LEAF:

OR,

THE LADY IN THE ARBOUR.

A VISION.

Now turning from the wintery figns, the fun
His courfe exalted through the Ram had run,

And, whirling up the kies, his chariot drove
Through Taurus and the lightfome realms of love;
Where Venus from her orb defcends in fhowers,
To glad the ground, and paint the fields with flowers:
When firft the tender blades of grafs appear,

And buds, that yet the blaft of Eurus fear,

Stand at the door of life, and doubt to clothe the year:
Till gentle heat, and foft repeated rains,

Make the green blood to dance within their veins :
Then, at their call embolden'd, out they come,
And fwell the germs, and burst the narrow room;
Broader and broader yet, their blooms display.
Salute the welcome fun, and entertain the day.
Then from their breathing fouls the sweets repair,
To scent the fkies, and purge th' unwholsome air :
Joy spreads the heart, and, with a general song,
Spring iffues out, and leads the jolly months along.
In that sweet seafon, as in bed I lay,

And fought in fleep to pass the night away,
I turn'd my weary'd fide, but still in vain,
Though full of youthful health, and void of pain:

Cares I had none, to keep me from my reft,
For love had never enter'd in my breast;
I wanted nothing fortune could fupply,
Nor did fhe flumber till that hour deny.
I wonder'd then, but after found it true,
Much joy had dry'd away the balmy dew:
Seas would be pools, without the brushing air,
To curl the waves: and fure fome little care
Should weary nature so, to make her want repair.
When Chanticleer the fecond watch had fung,
Scorning the fcorner sleep, from bed I sprung;
And, dreffing, by the moon, in loose array,
Pafs'd out in open air, preventing day,

And fought a goodly grove, as fancy led my way.
Straight as a line in beauteous order ftood
Of oaks unfhorn a venerable wood;

Fresh was the grafs beneath, and every tree-
At diftance planted in a due degree,
Their branching arms in air with equal space
Stretch'd to their neighbours with a long embrace:
And the new leaves on every bough were seen,
Some ruddy colour'd, fome of lighter green.
The painted birds, companions of the spring,
Hopping from fpray to spray, were heard to fing
Both eyes and ears receiv'd a like delight,
Enchanting mufic, and a charming fight.
On Philomel I fix'd my whole defire ;
And liften'd for the queen of all the quire ;
Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to fing;
And wanted yet an omen to the spring.

}

Attending

Attending long in vain, I took the way, Which through a path but scarcely printed lay; In narrow mazes oft it feem'd to meet, And look'd as lightly prefs'd by fairy feet. Wandering I walk'd alone, for still methought To some strange end so ftrange a path was wrought= At last it led me where an arbour stood, The facred receptacle of the wood:

This place unmark'd, though oft I walk'd the green,
In all my progress I had never seen :

And, feiz'd at once with wonder and delight,
Gaz'd all around me, new to the transporting fight.
'Twas bench'd with turf, and goodly to be feen,
The thick young grafs arose in fresher green :
The mound was newly made, no fight could pass
Betwixt the nice partitions of the grass;

The well-united fods fo clofely lay;

And all around the fhades defended it from day :
For fycamores with eglantine were fpread,

A hedge about the fides, a covering over head.
And fo the fragrant brier was wove between,
The fycamore and flowers were mix'd with green,
That nature feem'd to vary the delight;

And fatisfy'd at once the smell and sight.
The mafter workman of the bower was known
Through fairy-lands, and built for Oberon;
Who twining leaves with fuch proportion drew,
They rose by measure, and by rule they grew ;.
No mortal tongue can half the beauty tell:
For none but hands divine could work fo well.

Both

Both roof and fides were like a parlour made,
A foft recefs, and a cool fummer shade;
The hedge was fet fo thick, no foreign eye
The perfons plac'd within it could espy :
But all that pafs'd without with ease was seen,
As if nor fence nor tree was plac'd between.
'Twas border'd with a field; and fome was plain
With grafs, and fome was fow'd with rifing grain.
That (now the dew with fpangles deck'd the ground)
A fweeter fpot of earth was never found.

I look'd and look'd, and fill with new delight;
Such joy my foul, fuch pleafures fill'd my fight:
And the fresh eglantine exhal'd a breath,

Whose odours were of power to raise from death.
Nor fullen difcontent, nor anxious care,

Ev'n though brought thither, could inhabit there :
But thence they fled as from their mortal foe;
For this sweet place could only pleasure know.
Thus as I mus'd, I caft afide my eye,
And faw a medlar-tree was planted nigh.
The fpreading branches made a goodly fhow,
And full of opening blooms was every bough:
A goldfinch there I faw with gawdy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from fide to fide,
Still pecking as fhe pafs'd; and still she drew
The fweets from every flower, and fuck'd the dew:
Suffic'd at length, she warbled in her throat,
And tun'd her voice to many a merry note,
But indiftin&t, and neither fweet nor clear,
Yet fuch as footh'd my foul, and pleas'd my ear.

Her