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INTRODUCTION

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FAB:I.

(9)

INTRODUCTION

TO THE

FABLE E S.

PART THE FIRST.

The SHEPHERD and the PHILOSOPHER.

R

EMOTE from cities liv'd a swain,

Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;
His head was filver'd o'er with age,
And long experience made him fage;
In fummer's heat, and winter's cold,
He fed his flock, and penn'd the fold;
His hours in chearful labour flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew:

His wifdom and his honeft fame

Through all the country rais'd his name.
A deep philofopher (whofe rules

Of moral life were drawn from schools)

The Shepherd's homely cottage fought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books confum'd the midnight-oil?
Haft thou old Greece and Rome furvey'd,
And the vaft fenfe of PLATO weigh'd?
Hath SOCRATES thy foul refin'd,

And haft thou fathom'd TULLY's mind?
Or, like the wife ULYSSES, thrown,
By various fates, on realms unknown,
Haft thou through many cities ftray'd,
Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd ?
The Shepherd modeftly reply'd.

I ne'er the paths of learning try'd ;
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts

To read mankind, their laws and arts;
For man is practis'd in disguise,

He cheats the most discerning eyes ;

Who by that fearch fhall wifer

grow,

When we ourselves can never know?

The little knowledge I have gain'd,

Was all from fimple nature drain'd;

Hence my life's maxims took their rise,

Hence grew my

fettled hate to vice.

The

The daily labours of the bee Awake my foul to industry.

.

Who can obferve the careful ant, ·
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the truftieft of his kind)
With gratitude inflames my mind:
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my service copy Tray.
In conftancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air,
With pious wing protects her care;
And ev'ry fowl that flies at large,
Inftructs me in a parent's charge.

From nature too I take my rule,
To fhun contempt and ridicule.
I never, with important air.
In converfation over-bear.

Can grave and formal pafs for wife,
When men the folemn owl despise ?

My tongue within my lips I rein;
For who talks much, muft talk in vain.
We from the wordy torrent fly :

Who liftens to the chatt'ring pye ?