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“Ungrateful creatures! whence arise
These murmurs, which offend the skies 7
Why this disorder ? say the cause;
For just are Jove's eternal laws:
Let each his discontent reveal;
To you, Sir Dog, I first appeal.

“Hard is my lot,” the hound replies;
“On what fleet nerves the greyhound flies;
While I with weary step and slow,
O'er plains and vales, and mountains go ;
The morning sees my chase begun,
Nor ends it till the setting sun.”

“When,” says the greyhound, “I pursue,
My game is lost or caught in view;
Beyond my sight, the prey’s secure;
The hound is slow, but always sure —
And had I his sagacious scent,
Jove ne'er had heard my discontent.”

The lion craved the fox's art;
The fox, the lion's force of heart.
The cock implored the pigeon's flight,
Whose wings were rapid, strong, and light;
The pigeon, strength of wing despised,
And the cock's matchless valor prized;
The fishes wish'd to graze the plain;
The beasts, to skim beneath the main,
Thus, envious of another's state,
Each blamed the partial hand of fate.

The bird of heav'n then cried aloud,
“Jove bids disperse the murm'ring crowd;
The God rejects your idle prayers:
Would ye, rebellious mutineers!
Entirely change your name and nature,
And be the very envied creature ?


What, silent all; and none consent?
Be happy then, and learn content;
Nor imitate the restless mind,
And proud ambition of mankind.”


Every one thinks his own condition the hardest.


Suspicion is no less an enemy to virtue, than to happiness. He that is already corrupt is naturally suspicious; and he that becomes suspicious, will quickly be corrupt. He that suffers by imposture, has too often his virtue more impaired than his fortune. But as it is necessary not to invite robbery by supineness, so it is our duty not to suppress tenderness by suspicion. It is better to suffer wrong than to do it; and happier to be sometimes cheated, than not to trust. He who is spontaneously suspicious, may be justly charged with radical corruption. “Though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom's gate; and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems.”

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I do not want admirers,
And many come from far.”

The nightingale said, “Little one,
Pray tell me who they are 7"

“The pretty bugs and beetles, Sir,
And surely you must know,
That they are very knowing ones,
And here, are all the go.”
“That may be very true,”
Replied, the modest little bird,
“But of their taste for music
I confess I never heard.

“So take advice, my little friend, - In future, be not vain;

Nor anxious the applauses
Of the ignorant to gain —

Your music, for a cricket,
Is the best I ever knew;

But it is not quite a nightingale's"—

And so away she flew.

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