Soon as the trotting Steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears;
Away he fcowers, affaults his hoof;
Now near him fnarls, now barks aloof;
With fhrill impertinence attends,
Nor leaves him till the village ends.
It chanc'd, upon his evil day,
A Pad came pacing down the way;
`The Cur, with never-ceafing tongue,
Upon the paffing traveller fprung.

The Horfe, from scern provok'd to ire,
Flung backward; rolling in the mire,
The Puppy howl'd, and bleeding lay;
The Pad in peace pursued his way.

A Shepherd's Dog, who faw the deed,
Detefting the vexatious breed,
Bespoke him thus: "When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate;
Thy teazing tongue had judgement ty'd,
Thou hadft not like a puppy dy'd."

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THE COURT OF DEATH.

DEATH, on a folemn night of state,

In all his pomp of terror fate :

Th' attendants of his gloomy reign,
Diseases dire, a ghastly train!

Crowd

Crowd the vaft court. With hollow tone,
A voice thus thunder'd from the throne:
This night our minifter we name,
Let every fervant speak his claim;
Merit fhall bear this ebon wand."

All, at the word, ftretch'd forth their hand.
Fever, with burning heat poffeft,
Advanc'd, and for the wand addreft.
"I to the weekly bills appeal,

Let thofe exprefs my fervent zeal;
On every flight occafion near,
With violence I perfevere."

Next Gout appears with limping pace,
Pleads how he shifts from place to place;
From head to foot how fwift he flies,
And every joint and finew plies;
Still working when he feems fuppreft,
A most tenacious stubborn guest.

A haggard spectre from the crew
Crawls forth, and thus afferts his due:
'Tis I who taint the sweetest joy,
And in the shape of Love deftroy :
My fhanks, funk eyes, and nofelefs face,
Prove my pretenfion to the place."

Stone urg'd his ever-growing force;
And, next, Confumption's meagre corfe,
With feeble voice, that fcarce was heard,
Broke with fhort coughs, his fuit preferr'd
"Let none object my lingering way,

I gain, like Fabius, by delay;

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Fatigue and weaken every foe

By long attack, fecure, though flow."
Plague reprefents his rapid power,

Who thinn'd a nation in an hour.

All fpoke their claim, and hop'd the wand.

Now expectation hufh'd the band;

When thus the Monarch from the throne:

"Merit was ever modeft known.

What, no Phyfician fpeak his right!
None here! but fees their toils requite.
Let then Intemperance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest,
(Whom wary men, as foes, deteft)
Forego your claim; no more pretend ;
Intemperance is esteem'd a friend;
He fhares their mirth, their focial joys,
And as a courted guest destroys.
The charge on him muft juftly fall,
Who finds employment for you all."

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A GARDENER, of peculiar tafte,
On a young Hog his favour plac'd,
Who fed not with the common herd;
His tray was to the hall preferr'd.

He wallow'd underneath the board,
Or in his master's chamber fnor'd,
Who fondly ftroak'd him every day,
And taught him all the Puppy's play.
Where'er he went, the grunting friend
Ne'er fail'd his pleasure to attend.

As on a time the loving pair
Walk'd forth to tend the garden's care,
The Mafter thus addrefs'd the Swine:

My houfe, my garden, all is thine.
On turnips feaft whene'er you please,
And riot in my beans and pease;
If the potatoe's taste delights,
Or the red carrot's fweet invites,
Indulge thy morn and evening hours;
But let due care regard my flowers :
My tulips are my garden's pride:
What vaft expence those beds fupply'd !"
The Hog by chance one morning roam'd,
Where with new ale the veffels foam'd:
He munches now the fteaming grains,
Now with full fwill the liquor drains.
Intoxicating fumes arife ;

He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;
Then ftaggering through the garden fcours,
And treads down painted ranks of flowers.
With delving fnout he turns the foil,
And cools his palate with the fpoil.
The Mafter came, the ruin spy'd;
"Villain! fufpend thy rage, he cry'd.

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Haft

Haft thou, thou most ungrateful fot,
My charge, my only charge, forgot?
What, all my flowers!" No more he faid,
But gaz'd, and figh'd, and hung his head.
The Hog with ftuttering speech returns :
“Explain, Sir, why your anger burns.
See there, untouch'd, your tulips ftrown,
For I devour'd the roots alone."

At this the Gardener's paffion grows;
From oaths and threats he fell to blows.
The stubborn brute the blows fuftains,
Affaults his leg, and tears the veins.

"Ah! foolish Swain! too late you find That ftyes were for fuch friends defign'd!” Homeward he limps with painful pace, Reflecting thus on past disgrace: "Who cherishes a brutal mate,

Shall mourn the folly foon or late.”

WHETHER on earth, in air, or main,
Sure every thing alive is vain!

Do's not the Hawk all fowls furvey,

As deftin'd only for his prey?

And do not tyrants, prouder things,

Think men were born for flaves to kings?

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When