Fables. By the Late Mr. Gay. In Two Volumes

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Pat. Wogan, 1799

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Page 115 - The cards, obedient to his words, Are by a fillip turn'd to birds. His little boxes change the grain : Trick after trick deludes the train. He...
Page 140 - She next the stately Bull implored, And thus replied the mighty lord: " Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence : a...
Page 102 - I'll read my fable. Betwixt her swagging panniers load A farmer's wife to market rode, And, jogging on, with thoughtful care Summ'd up the profits of her ware ; When, starting from her silver dream, Thus far and wide was heard her scream : That raven on yon left-hand oak (Curse on his ill-betiding croak !) Bodes me no good.
Page 50 - Lord, the spirit there Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire. The features, fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant are very hard to hit; But yet with patience you shall view As much as paint and art can do." "Observe the work!" My Lord replied, "Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Besides, my nose is somewhat long: Dear Sir, for me, 'tis far too young.
Page 141 - of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler pass'd you by; How strong are those ! how weak am I ! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then. You know my heart, But dearest friends, alas ! must part. How shall we all lament ! Adieu ! For see, the hounds are just in view.
Page 47 - Tis done. The Dog the parley thus begun. ' How can that strong intrepid mind Attack a weak defenceless kind ? Those jaws should prey on nobler food, And drink the boar's and lion's blood. Great souls with generous pity melt, Which coward tyrants never felt. How harmless is our fleecy care ! Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.
Page 81 - Nay, then,' replies the feeble fox, '(But hark! I hear a hen that clocks) Go, but be moderate in your food; A chicken too might do me good.
Page 10 - Where yet was ever found a mother, Who'd give her booby for another ? And should we change with human breed, Well might we pass for fools indeed.
Page 115 - This magic looking-glass," she cries, (" There, hand it round) will charm your eyes " : Each eager eye the sight desired, And ev'ry man himself admired.

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