Me, who contribute to your cheer,

And raise your mirth with ale and beer!
Why thus infulted, thus difgrac'd,
And that vile dunghill near me plac'd?

Are those poor sweepings of a groom,
That filthy fight, that naufeous fume
Meet objects here? Command it hence:
A thing fo mean must give offence.

The humble Dunghill thus reply'd.
Thy mafter hears and mocks thy pride,
Infult not thus the meek and low,
In me thy benefactor know;

My warm affistance gave thee birth,

Or thou hadst perish'd low in earth;
But upftarts, to fupport their station,

Cancell at once all obligation.

FABLE

W. Kent inv.

P.Fourdrinier scal

FABLE XXXVI.

PYTHAGORAS and the COUNTRYMAN.

Prthag'ras role at early dawn.

By foaring meditation drawn,

To breathe the fragrance of the day,
Through flow'ry fields he took his way;

In

In mufing contemplation warm,

His steps mis-led him to a farm,

Where, on the ladder's topmost round

A Peasant stood; the hammer's found

Shook the weak barn. Say, friend, what care
Calls for thy honest labour there?

The Clown with furly voice replies.
Vengeance aloud for justice cries:
This kite, by daily rapine fed,

My hen's annoy, my turkey's dread,
At length his forfeit life hath paid;
See, on the wall his wings difplay'd,
Here nail'd, a terror to his kind,
My fowls fhall future fafety find,

My yard the thriving poultry feed,

And my

barn's refuse fat the breed.

Friend, fays the Sage, the doom is wife,

For publick good the murd'rer dies;

But if these tyrants of the air

Demand a sentence so severe,
Think how the glutton man devours;
What bloody feasts regale his hours!
O impudence of power and might,

Thus to condemn a hawk or kite,
When thou perhaps, carniv'rous finner,
Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!

Hold, cry'd the Clown, with paffion heated, Shall kites and men alike be treated?

When Heav'n the world with creatures ftor'd,

Man was ordain'd their sov'raign lord.

Thus tyrants boaft, the Sage reply'd,

Whose murders fpring from power and pride.
Own then this manlike kite is flain

Thy greater lux'ry to sustain;

For* petty rogues submit to fate

That great ones may enjoy their fate:

*Garth's Difpenfary.

FABLE

W

[head?

HY are those tears? Why droops your

Is then your other husband dead?

Or does a worse disgrace betide?

Hath no one fince his death apply'd?