Becomes the troubled seat of care,
And pines with anguish and despair.
A Wolf, rapacious, rough and bold,
Whose nightly plunders thinn'd the fold,
Contemplating his ill-spent life,

And, cloy'd with thefts, would take a wife.
His purpose known, the savage race
In numerous crowds attend the place,
For why, a mighty Wolf he was,
And held dominion in his jaws.
Her favourite whelp each mother brought,
And humbly his alliance sought;
But, cold by age, or else too nice,
None found acceptance in his eyes.
It happen'd, as at early dawn
He solitary cross'd the lawn,

Stray'd from the fold, a sportive Lamb
Skipp'd wanton by her fleecy dam,
When Cupid, foe to man and beast,
Discharg'd an arrow at his breast.

The timorous breed the robber knew, And, trembling, o'er the meadow flew ; Their nimblest speed the Wolf o'ertook, And, courteous, thus the dame bespoke : Stay, fairest! and suspend your fear; Trust me, no enemy is near:

These jaws, in slaughter oft imbrued,
At length have known enough of blood,
And kinder business brings me now,
Vanquish'd, at Beauty's feet to bow.
You have a daughter-Sweet! forgive
A Wolf's address.-In her I live;
Love from her eyes like lightning came,
And set my marrow all on flame:

Let your consent confirm my choice,
And ratify our nuptial joys.

'Me ample wealth and pow'r attend,
Wide o'er the plains my realms extend;
What midnight robber dare invade
The fold, if I the guard am made?
At home the shepherd's cur may sleep,
While I secure his master's sheep.'

Discourse like this attention claim'd;
Grandeur the mother's breast inflam'd;
Now, fearless, by his side she walk'd,
Of settlements and jointures talk'd,
Propos'd, and doubled her demands
Of flowery fields and turnip lands.
The Wolf agrees; her bosom swells;
To Miss her happy fate she tells,
And, of the grand alliance vain,
Contemns her kindred of the plain.

The loathing Lamb with horror hears,
And wearies out her dam with pray'rs :
But all in vain: mamma best knew
What unexperienc'd girls should do;
So, to the neighbouring meadow carried,
A formal ass the couple married.

Torn from the tyrant-mother's side,
The trembler goes a victim-bride,
Reluctant meets the rude embrace,
And bleats among the howling race.
With horror oft her eyes behold
Her murder'd kindred of the fold;
Each day a sister lamb is serv❜d,
And at the glutton's table carv'd;
The crashing bones he grinds for food,

And slakes his thirst with streaming blood.

Love, who the cruel mind detests,
And lodges but in gentle breasts,
Was now no more: enjoyment past,
The savage hunger'd for the feast;
But (as we find in human race
A mask conceals the villain's face)
Justice must authorize the treat;
Till then he long'd, but durst not eat.

As forth he walk'd in quest of prey,
The hunters met him on the way;
Fear wings his flight, the marsh he sought,
The snuffing dogs are set at fault.

His stomach balk'd, now hunger gnaws,
Howling, he grinds his empty jaws;
Food must be had, and Lamb is nigh,
His maw invokes the fraudful lie:
'Is this,' (dissembling rage) he cried,
The gentle virtue of a bride,

That, leagued with man's destroying race,
She sets her husband for the chase,
By treachery prompts the noisy hound
To scent his footsteps on the ground?
Thou traitress vile! for this thy blood
Shall glut my rage, and dye the wood.'
So saying, on the Lamb he flies;
Beneath his jaws the victim dies.

THE GOOSE AND THE SWAN'S.

I HATE the face, however fair,
That carries an affected air:

The lisping tone, the shape constrain❜d,
The studied look, the passion feign'd,

Are fopperies which only tend
To injure what they strive to mend.
With what superior grace enchants
The face which Nature's pencil paints,
Where eyes, unexercis'd in art,
Glow with the meaning of the heart,
Where freedom and good humour sit,
And easy gaiety and wit!

Though perfect beauty be not there,
The master lines, the finish'd air;
We catch from every look delight,
And grow enamour'd at the sight;
For beauty, though we all approve,
Excites our wonder more than love;
While the agreeable strikes sure,
And gives the wounds we cannot cure.
Why then, my Amoret! this care
That forms you in effect less fair?
If Nature on your cheek bestows
A bloom that emulates the rose,
Or from some heavenly image drew
A form Apelles never knew,
Your ill-judg'd aid will you impart,
And spoil by meretricious art?
Or had you, Nature's error, come
Abortive from the mother's womb,
Your forming care she still rejects,
Which only heightens her defects.
When such, of glittering jewels proud,
Still press the foremost in the crowd,
At every public show are seen,
With look awry and awkard mien,
The gaudy dress attracts the eye,
And magnifies deformity.

Nature may underdo her part,
But seldom wants the help of art:
Trust her; she is your surest friend,
Nor made your form for you to mend.
A Goose, affected, empty, vain,
The shrillest of the cackling train,
With proud and elevated crest,
Precedence claim'd above the rest.

Says she, I laugh at human race,
Who say Geese hobble in their pace :
Look here! the slanderous lie detect;
Not haughty man is so erect.

That peacock yonder, Lord! how vain
The creature's of his gaudy train!
If both were stript, I'd pawn my word,
A Goose would be the finer bird.
Nature, to hide her own defects,
Her bungled work with finery decks:
Were Geese set off with half that show,
Would men admire the peacock? No.'
Thus, vaunting, cross the mead she stalks,
The cackling breed attend her walks;
The sun shot down his noontide beams,
The Swans were sporting in the streams;
Their snowy plumes and stately pride

6

Provok'd her spleen. Why there,' she cried,

Again what arrogance we see!

Those creatures! how they mimic me!

Shall every fowl the waters skim,

Because we Geese are known to swim?

Humility they soon shall learn,
And their own emptiness discern.'
So saying, with extended wings,
Lightly upon the wave she springs;