A

THE OWL AND THE FARMER.

N Owl of grave deport and mien,

Who (like the Turk) was feldom feen,
Within a barn had chofe his ftation,

As fit for prey and contemplation:
Upon a beam aloft he fits,

And nods, and seems to think by fits.
So have I feen a man of news

Or Poft-boy or Gazette peruse,

Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound,
And fix the fate of Europe round.
Sheaves pil'd on theaves hid all the floor:
At dawn of morn to view his ftore
The Farmer came. The hooting guest
His felf-importance thus expreft:

"Reafon in man is mere pretence :
How weak, how fhallow, is his fenfe!
To treat with fcorn the Bird of Night,
Declares his folly or his fpite.
Then, too, how partial is his praise !
The lark's, the linnet's, chirping lays
To his ill-judging ears are fine;
And nightingales are all divine:
But the more knowing feather'd race
See wifdom ftamp'd upon my face.
Whene'er to vifit light I deign,
What flocks of fowl compofe my train!

BOD

Like

Like flaves, they crowd my flight behind,
And own me of fuperior kind."

The Farmer laugh'd, and thus reply'd :
"Thou dull important lump of pride,
Dar'ft thou with that harsh grating tongue
Depreciate birds of warbling fong?
Indulge thy fpleen : know men and fow!
Regard thee, as thou art, an Owl.
Befides, proud Blockhead! be not vain
Of what thou call'st thy flaves and train :
Few follow Wisdom or her rules;

Fools in derifion follow fools."

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A JUGGLER long through all the Town

Had rais'd his fortune and renown;

You'd think (fo far his art tranfcends)

The devil at his fingers' ends.

Vice heard his fame, the read his bill;

Convinc'd of his inferior fkill,

She fought his booth, and from the crowd
Defy'd the man of art aloud.

"Is this then he fo fam'd for fleight? Can this flow bungler cheat your fight? Dares he with me dispute the prize?

I leave it to impartial eyes."

Provok'd, the Juggler cry'd, " 'Tis done; In fcience I fubmit to none."

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Thus

Thus faid, the cups and balls he play'd;
By turns this here, that there, convey.
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 shakes his bag, he fhews all fair;
His fingers fpread, and nothing there
Then bids it rain with fhowers of gold;
And now his ivory eggs are told ;
But, when from thence the hen he draws,
Amaz'd fpectators hum applaufe.

Vice now ftept forth, and took the place,
With all the forms of his grimace.

"This magic looking-glafs, the cries, (There, hand it round) will charm your eyes." 30 Each eager eye the fight defir'd,

And every man himself admir'd.

Next, to a fenator addreffing,

"See this bank-note; obferve the bleffing. Breathe on the bill. Heigh, pafs ! 'Tis gone." 35

Upon his lips a padlock shown.

A fecond puff the magic broke;

The padlock vanifh'd, and he fpoke.
Twelve bottles rang'd upon the board
All full, with heady liquor ftor'd,
By clean conveyance disappear,
And now two bloody fwords are there.
A purfe the to a thief expos'd;

At once his ready fingers clos'.

He

He

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opes his fift, the treasure 's fled;

He fees a halter in its ftead.

She bids Ambition hold a wand; He grafps a hatchet in his hand.

A box of charity fhe fhows.

"Blow here," and a church-warden blows. 'Tis vanish'd with conveyance neat,

And on the table smokes a treat.

She shakes the dice, the board fhe knocks, And from all pockets fills her box.

She next a meagre rake addrest.

"This picture fee; her fhape, her breast!
What youth, and what inviting eyes!
Hold her, and have her." With furprize,
His hand expos'd a box of pills,
And a loud laugh proclaim'd his ills.

A counter, in a miser's hand,
Grew twenty guineas at command..
She bids his heir the fum retain,
And 'tis a counter now again.

fec

A guinea with her touch you
Take every fhape but Charity;
And not one thing you faw, or drew,.
But chang'd from what was firft in view.
The Juggler now, in grief of heart,
With this fubmiffion own'd her art.

"Can I fuch matchless fleight withstand!
How practice hath improv'd your hand!
But now and then I cheat the throng;
You every day, and all day long."

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FABLE

FABLE XLIII.

THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.

PON a time a neighing steed,

UPON

Who graz'd among a numerous breed,

With mutiny had fir❜d the train,

And fpread diffenfion through the plain.
On matters that concern'd the ftate
The Council met in grand debate.

A Colt, whofe eye-balls flam'd with ire,
Elate with ftrength and youthful fire,
In hafte ftept forth before the rest,
And thus the liftening throng addrest.

"Good Gods! how abject is our race,
Condemn'd to flavery and difgrace!
Shall we our fervitude retain,

Because our fires have borne the chain?

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Confider, Friends! your strength and might; 15

'Tis conqueft to affert your right.
How cumbrous is the gilded coach!
The pride of man is our reproach.
Were we defign'd for daily toil,

To drag the plough-fhare through the foil,
To fweat in harnefs through the road,

Το

o groan beneath the carrier's load?

How feeble are the two-legg'd kind!
What force is in our nerves combin'd!

20

Shall then our nobler jaws fubmit

25

To foam and champ the galling bit ?

Shall