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Certes," quoth he," I cannot well deny, But dreams are short; for as I thought to lay That you in many things may hope to please : My limbs at ease upon the flowry ground, You force a barbarous northern tongue to ply,

And drink, with greedy ear, what he might say. And bend it to your purposes with ease;

As murm'ring waters sweet, or music's sound; Though rough as Albion's rocks, and hoarser

My sleep departed; and I, waking, found than her seas.

Myself again by Fortha's pleasant stream. “ Nor are your tales, I wot, so loosely yok'd, Homewards I stepp'd, in meditation drown'd,

As those which Colin Clout I did tell before; Reflecting on the meaning of my dream : Nor with description crowded so, and chok'd, Which let each wiglit interpret as hiin best doti

Which, thinly spread, will always please the

Colin, I wot, was rich in Nature's store ;
More rich than you, bad more than he could use:
Lut mad Orlando 2 taught him bad his lore:

Whose flights, at random, oft misled his Muse:
To follow such a guide, few prudent men would

“ Me you have follow'd: Nature was my guide;
To this the merit of your verse is owing:

And know for certain, let it check your pride,
That all you boast of is of my bestowing.

The flow’rs I see through all your garden Ir is andoubtedly an uneasy situation to lie

blowing, Are mine; most part, at least : I might demand, under great obligations without being able to

make suitable returns: all that can be done in Might claim them, as a crop of my own this case is, to acknowledge the debt, which

sowing, And leave but few, thin scatter'd o'er the land: (though it does not entitle to an acquittance)

is looked upon as a kind of compensation, being A claim so just, I wot, you could not well with

all that gratitude has in its power. stand.”

This is in a peculiar manner my situation with “ Certes,” quoth 1, "that justice were full hard, respect to your lordship. What you have done

Which me alone would sentence to restore ; for me with the most uncommon favour am When many a learned sage, and many a bard, condescension, is what I never shall be able to

Are equally your debtors, or much more. repay ; and therefore have used the freedom to

Let Tityrus 3 himself produce his store, recominend the following performance to your Take what is thine, but little will remain : protection, that I might have an opportunity of Little, I wot, and that indebted sore

acknowledging my obligations in the most public To Ascra's bard 4, and Arethusa's swains; And others too beside, who lent him many a strain. It is evident that the world will hardly allow " Nor could the inodern bards afford to pay,

my gratitude upon this occasion to be disioterWhose songs exalt the champions of the Cross: ested. Your distinguished rank, the additional Take from each hoard thy sterling gold away,

honours derived from the lustre of your ancese And little will remain but worthless dross. tors, your own uncoirmon abilities, equally Not bards alone could ill support the loss ;

adapted to the service of your country in peace But sages too, whose theft suspicion shuund:

and in war, are circumstances sufficient to make E'en that sly Greek", who steals and hides so

any author ambitious of your lordship’s patronclose,

age. But I must do myself the justice to insist, Were half a bankrupt, if he should refund.

it is upon the account of distinctions less splenWhile these are all forborn, shall I alone be did, though far more interesting (those, I mean, dunn'd."

by which you are distinguished as the friend of

human nature, the guide and patron of uneares He smild ; and from his wreath, which well rienced youth, and the father of the poor), that

[were clad, I am zealous of subscribing myself, Such boon, the wreath with which his locks Pluck'd a few leaves to hide my temples bare ;

your lordship's The present I receiv'd with heart full glad.

most humble, and “ Henceforth,” quoth I, “ I nevershall be sad ;

most devoted servant, For now I shall obtain my share of fame :

WILLIAM WILKIK Nor will licentious wit, or envy bad, With bitter taunts, my verses dare to blame : This garland shall protect them, and exalt my name."


I Spenser.
* Ariosto, so called from his hero.
• Virgil.
4 Hesiod. 5 Theocritus.

Ye deep philosophers who can
• Plato, reckoned, by Longinus, one of the Explain that various creature, man,

Say, is there any point so nice, greatest imitators of Homer.

As that of offering an advice?


could spare

my lord,

To bid your friend his errours mend,

All this the looking glass achiev'd, Is almost certain to offend :

Its threats were minded and believ'd. Thongh you in softest terms advise,

The maid, who spurn dat all advice, Confess him good; admit bim wise ;

Grew tame and gentle in a trice. In vain you sweeten the discourse,

So when all other means had fail'd, He thinks you call him fool, or worse ;

The silent monitor prevail'd. You paint his character, and try

Thus, fable to the human-kind If he will own it, and apply.

Presents an image of the mind; Without a name reprove and warn :

It is a mirror where we spy Here none are hurt, and all may learn.

At large our own deformity, This too must fail, the picture shown,

And learn of course those faults to mend, No man will take it for his own.

Which but to mention would offend.
In moral lectures treat the case,
Say this is honest, that is base;
In conversation none will bear it;
And for the pulpit, few come near it.

And is there then no other way
A moral lesson to convey ?

You say 'tis vain in verse or prose Most all that shall attempt to teach,

To tell what ev'ry body knows, Admonish, satyrize, or preach?

And stretch invention to express Yes, there is one, an ancient art,

Plain truths which all men will confess: By sages found to reach the heart,

Go on the argument to mend, Ere science with distinctions nice

Prove that to know is to attend, Had fixt what virtue is, and vice,

And that we ever keep in sight Inventing all the various names

What reason tells us once is right : On which the moralist declaims :

Till this is done you must excuse They wou'd by simple tales advise,

The zeal and freedom of my Muse, Which took the hearer by surprise ;

In hinting to the human-kind Alarm'd his conscience, unprepar'd,

What few deny but fewer mind: Ere pride had put it on its guard;

There is a folly which we blame, And made him from himself receive

'Tis strange that it should want a name, The lessons which they meant to give.

For sure no other finds a place That this device will oft prevail,

So often in the human race; And gain its end, when others fail,

I mean the tendency to spy If any shall pretend to doubt,

Our neighbour's faults with sharpen'd eye, The tale which follows makes it out.

And make his lightest failings known, There was a little stubborn dame

Without attending to our own. Whom do authority could tame,

The prude, in daily use to vex Restive by long indulgence grown,

With groundless censure half the sex, No will she minded but her own :

Of rigid virtue, honour nice, At triftes oft she'd scold and fret,

And much a foe to every vice, Then in a corner take a seat,

Tells lies without remorse and shame, And sourly moping all the day,

Yet never thinks herself to blame. Disdain alike to work or play.

A scriv'ner, though afraid to kill, Papa all softer arts bad try'd,

Yet scruples not to forge a will; And sharper remedies apply'd;

Abhors the soldier's bloody feats, But both were vain, for every course

While he as freely damns all cheats, He took still made her worse and worse,

The reason's plain, 'tis not his way "Tis strange to think how female wit,

To lie, to cozen and betray. So oft shou'd make a lucky hit,

But tell me if to take by force, When man with all his bigh pretence

Is not as bad at least, or worse. To deeper judgment, sounder sense,

The pinip who owns it as his trade Will ert, and measures false pursue

To poach for letchers, and be paid, "Tis very strange I own, but true.

Thinks himself honest in his station, Mama observ'd the rising lass,

But rails at rogues that sell the nation: By stealth retiring to the glass,

Nor would he stoop in any case, To practise little airs unseen,

And stain his honour for a place. In the true genius of thirteen :

To mark this errour of mankind On this a deep design she laid

The tale which follows is design'd. To tame the humour of the maid ;

A fight of rooks one harvest morn Contriving like a prudent mother

Had stopt upon a field of corn, To make one folly cure another.

Just wben a kite, as authors say,
Upon the wall against the seat

Was passing on the wing that way:
Which Jessy us'd for her retreat,
Whene'er by accident offended,

His honest heart was fill'd with pain,
A looking-glass was straight suspended,

To see the farmer lose his grain, That it might show her how deform'd

So lighting gently on a shock She look'd, and frightful when she storm'd;

He thus the føragers bespoke. And warp her, as she priz'd her beauty,

“ Believe me, sirs, you're much to blame, To bend her bumour to her duty.

,Tis strange that neither fear nor sbame

Can keep you from roúr usual way

While vice, though seemingly approv'd, Of stealth, and pilf'ring ev'ry day.

Is coldly flatter'd, never lov'd. No sooner has th' industrious swain

Palemon once a story told, His field turn’d up and sow'd the grain,

Which by conjecture must be old : But ye come flocking on the wing,

I have a kind of half conviction Prepard to snatch itere it spring:

That at the best 'tis but a fiction ; And after all his toil and care

But taken right and understood, Leave every furrow spoild and bare:

The moral certainly is good. If aught escapes your greedy bills,

A shepherd swain was wont to sing Which nurs'd by summer grows and fills, The infant beauties of the spring, 'Tis still your prey: and though ye know The bloom of summer, winter hoar, No rook did ever till or sow,

The autumn rich in various store ; Ye boldly reap, without regard

And prais'd in numbers strong and clear To justice, industry's reward,

The Ruler of the changeful year. And use it freely as your own,

To human themes he'd next descend, Though men and cattle shou'd get none.

The shepherd's harmless life cominend, I never did in any case

And prove him happier than the great Descend to practises so base;

With all their pageantry and state: Though stung with hunger's sharpest pain, Who oft for pleasure and for wealth, I still have scorn'd to touch a grain,

Exchange their innocence and health Even when I had it in my pow'r,

The Muses listen'd to his lays To do 't with safety every hour :

And crown'd him as he sung with bays. For, trust me, nought that can be gain'd Euterpe, goddess of the lyre, Is worth a character unstain'd."

A harp bestow'd with golden wire: Thus with a face austerely grave

And oft wou'd teach him how to sing, Harangu'd the hypocrite and knave ;

Or touch with art the trembling stringt And answering from amidst the flock

His fame o'er all the mountains flew, A rook with indignation spoke.

And to his cot the shepherds drew; “What has been said is strictly true,

They heard his music with delight, Yet comes not decently from you;

Whole summer days from morn to night: For sure it indicates a mind

Nor did they ever think him long, From selfish passions inore than blind,

Such was the magic of his song: To miss your greater crimes, and quote

Some rural present each prepar'd, Our lighter failings thus by rote.

Flis skill to honour and reward ; I must confess we wrong the swain,

A flute, a sheep-hook, or a lamb Too oft by pilf'ring of his grain :

Or kidling follow'd by its dam: But is our guilt like yours, I pray,

Por bards it seems in earlier days, Who rob and murder every day?

Got something more than empty praise. No harmless bird can mount theskies

All this continu'd for a while, But you attack him as he flies;

But soon our songster chang'd his style, And when at eve he lights to rest,

Infected with the common itch, You stoop and snatch him from his nest.

His gains to double and grow rich : The husbandman who seems to share

Or fondly seeking new applause, So large a portion of your care,

Or this or t'other was the cause ; Say, is he ever off his guard,

One thing is certain, that his rhymes While you are hov'ring o'er the yard ?

Grew more obsequious to the times, He knows too well your usual tricks,

Less stiff and formal, alter'd quite Your ancient spite to tender chicks,

To what a courtier calls polite, And that you, like a felon, watch

Whoe'er grew rich, by right or wrong, For something to surprise and snatch."

Became the hero of a song: At this rebuke so just, the kite

No nymph or shepherdess could wedi Surpris'd, abash'd, and silenc'd quite,

But he must sing the nuptial bed, And prov'd a villain to his face,

And still was ready to recite
Straight soar'd aloft and left the place.

The secret transports of the night,
In strains too luscious for the ear
Of saber chastity to bear.

Astonish'd at a change so great,

No more the shepherds sought his seet,
But in their place, a horned crowd

Of satyrs flock'd from every wood,
Let every bard who seeks applause

Drawn by the magic of his lay, Be true to virtue and her cause,

To dance, to frolie, sport and play. Nor ever try to raise bis fame

The goddess of the lyre disdain'd By praising that which merits blame,

To see her sacred gift profan'd, The vain attempt he needs must rue,

And gliding swiftly to the place, For disappointment will ensue.

With indignation in her face, Virtue with her superior charms

The trembling shepherd thus address'd, Exalts the poet's soul and warms,

In awful majesty confess'd. His taste relines, his genius fires,

“'Thou wretched fool, that harp resign, Like Phæbus and the Ninc inspires ;

For know it is no longer thine;

In spite of all the stars that bum, It was not given you to inspire

Primeval darkness wou'd return: A herd like this with loose des re,

They're less and dimmer, one may see, Nor to assist that venal praise

Besides much farther off than we; Which rice may purchase, if it pays:

And therefore thro' a long descent Such offices my lyre disgrace;

Their light is scatter'd quite and spent : Here take this bag-pipe in its place.

While ours, corapacter and at hand, 'Tis fitter far, believe it true,

Keeps night and darkness at a stand, Both for these miscreants and you."

Diffus'd around in many a ray, The swain dismay'd, without a word,

Whose brightness emulates the day."
Submitted, and the harp restor'd.

This pass'd and more without dispute,
The patient grasshopper was mute:

But soon the east began to glow

With light appearing from below,

And level from the ocean's streams

The Moon emerging shot her beains. When ignorance possess'd the schools,

To gild the mountains and the woods, And reign'd by Aristutle's rules,

And shake and glitter on the foods. Ere Verulam, li e dawning light,

The glowworm, when he found his light Rose to dispel the Gothic night:

Grow pale and faint and vanish quite A man was taught to shut his eyes,

Before the Moon's prevailing ray, And grow abstracted to be wise.

Began his envy to display. Nature's broad volume fairly spread,

"That globe," quoth he, “which seems so fair, Where all true science might be read

Which brightens all the Earth and air, The wisdom of th’ Eternal Mind,

And sends its beams so far abroad, Declar'd and publish'd to mankind,

Is nought, believe me, but a cloi ; Was quite neglected, for the whims

A thing which, if the Sun were gone, Of mortals and their airy dreams :

Has no more light in't than a stone', By narrow principles and few,

Subsisting merely by supplies By hasty maxims, oft untrue,

From Phoebus in the nether skies: By words and phrases ill-defiu'd,

My light indeed, I must confess, Evasive truth they hop'd to bind;

On some occasions will be less; Which still escap'd them, and the elves

But spite itself will hardly say
At last caught nothing but themselves.

I'm debtor for a single ray;
Nor is this folly modern quite,
Tis ancient too: the Stagirite

'Tis all my own, and on the score

Of merit, mounts to ten times more Improv'd at first, and taught his school

Than any planet can demand By rules of art to play the fool.

For light dispens’d at second hand.” Ex'n Plato, from example bad,

To hear the paltry insect boast, Would oft turn sophist and run mad;

The grasshopper all patience lost. Make Socrates himself discourse

Quoth he, My friend, it may be so, Like Clarke and Leibnitz, oft-times worse;

The Moon with borrow'd light may glow; 'Bout quirks and subtilties contending,

That your faint glimin’ring is your own, Bevond all human comprehending.

I think, is question'd yet by none : From some strange bias men pursue

But sure the office to collect False knowledge still in place of true,

The solar brightness and reflect, Build airy systems of their own,

To catch those rays that would be spent This moment rais'd, the next pull'd down ;

Quite useless in the firmament, While few attempt to catch those rays

And turn them downwards on the shado Of truth which nature still displays

Which absence of the Sun has made, Throughout the universal plan,

Amounts to more in point of merit From moss and mushrooms up to man.

Than all your tribe did e'er inherit: This sure were better, but we hate

Oft by that planet's friendly ray To borrow when we can create;

The midnight trav'ler finds bis way; And therefore stupidly prefer,

Safe by the favour of her beams, Our own conceits, by which we err,

'Midst precipices, lakes and streams; To all the wisdom to be gain'd

While you inislead him, and your light, From nature and her lawsexplain'd.

Seen like a cottage-lamp by night, One ev'ning when the Sun was set,

With hopes to find a safe retreat, A grasshopper and glowworm met

Allures and tempts him to his fate: Upon a biliock in a dale,

As this is so, I veeds mus: call As Mab the fairy tells the tale.

The merit of your light but small : Vain and conceited of his spark,

You need not boast on't though your own; Which brightend as the night grew dark,

'Tis light indeed, but worse than none; The shining reptile swellid with pride

Unlike to what ihe Moon supplies,
To see his rays on every side,

Which you call borrow'd, and despise. "
Mark'd by a circle on the gronnd
Of livid light some inches round.

Quoth he, “ If glowworms never shone,
Te light the Earth wheu day is gone,

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I traverse all the house and play THE APE, THE PARROT, AND THE My tricks and gambols ev'ry day! JACKDAW.

Oft with my mistress in a chair

I ride abroad to take the air; I hold it rash at any time

Make visits with her, walk at large, To deal with fools dispos'd to rhyme ;

A maid or footman's constant charge. Dissuasive arguments provoke

Yet this is noth ng, for I find Their urmest rage as soon as spoke :

Myself still hamper'd and confind; Encourage them, and for a day

A grov'ling thing : I fain would rise
Or two you're safe by giving way;

Above the Earth and mount the skies:
But when they find themselves betray'd, The meanest birds, and insects too,
On you at last the blame is laid.

This feat with greatest ease can do.
They hate and scorn you as a traitor,

To that gay creature turn about The common lot of those who flatter:

That's beating on the pane without; But can a scribbler, sir, be shunn'd?

Ten days ago, perhaps but five, What will you do when teas'd and gunn'd ? A worm, it scarcely seemd alive: When watchd, and caught, and closely press'd, By threads suspended, tough and small, When complimented and caress'd,

Midst dusty cobwebs on a wall; When Ravius greets you with a bow,

Now dress'd in all the diff'rent dyes “Sir, please to read a line or two ;"

That vary in the ev’ning skies, If you approve and say they're clever,

He soars at large, and on the wing “ You make me happy, sir, for ever.”

Enjoys with freedom all the spring; What can be done the case is plain,

Skims the fresh lakes, and rising secs No methods of escape remain :

Ber sath him far the loftiest trees; You're fairly noos'd, and must consent

And when he rests, he makes his bow'r To bear, what nothing can prevent,

The cup of some delicious flow'r. A coxcomb's anger; and your fate

Shall creatures so obscurely bred, Will be to suff-s soon or late.

On mere corruption nurs'd and fed, Ap ape that was the sole delight

A glorious privilege obtain, Of an old woman day and night,

Which I can never hope to gain ? Indulg'd at table and in bed,

Shall I, like man's imperial race Attended like a child and fed :

Jn manners, customs, shape and face, Who knew each trick, and twenty more

Expert in all ingenious tricks, Than ever monkey play'd before,

To tumble, dance, and leap o'er sticks; At last grew franțic and wou'd try,

Who know to sooth and coax my betters, In spite of nature's laws, to fly.

And match a beau, at least in letters; Oft from the window wou'd he view

Shall I despair, and never try The passing swallows as they flew,

(What meanest insects can) to fly ? Observe them fluttering round the walls, Say, mayn't Į without dread or care Or gliding o'er the smooth canals :

At once commit me to the air, He too must fly, and cope with these;

And not fall down and break my bones For this and nothing else wou'd please:

Upon those hard and finty stones? Oft thinking from the window's height,

Say, if to stir my limbs before Three stories down to take his flight:

Will make me glide along or soar? He still was something loth to venture,

All things they say are learn'd by trying As tending strongly to the centre :

No doubt it is the same with flying. And knowing that the least mistake

I wait your judgment with respect, Might cost a limb, perhaps his neck.

And shall proceed as you direct." The case you'll own was something nice;

Poor Poll, with gen’rous pity inov'd, He thought it best to ask advice;

The Ape's fond rashness thus reprov'd: And to the parrot straight applying,

For, though instructed by mankind, Allow'd to be a judge of flying,

Her tongue to candour still inclin'd. He thus began : “ You'll think me rude,

* My friend, the privilege to rise Forgive me if I do intrude,

Above the Earth and mount the skies, For you alone my doubts can clear

Is glorious sure, and 'tis my fate In something that concerns me near :

To feel the want on't with regret; Do you injagine, if I try,

A pris'ner to a cage confin'd, That I shall e'er attain to fly?

Though wing'd and of the flying kind. The project's whimsical, no doubt,

With you the case is not the same, But ere you censure hear me out:

You 're quite terrestrial by your frame,
That liberty's our greatest blessing

And shou'd be perfectly content
You'll grant me without farther pressing ; With your peculiar element:
To live confin'd, 'tis plain and clear,

You have no wings, I pray reflect,
Is something very hard to bear:

To lift you and your course direct; This you must know, who for an age

Those arms of yours will never do, Have been kept pris'ner in a cage,

Not twenty in the place of two; Deny'd the privilege to soar

They ne'er can lift you from the ground, With boundless freedom as before.

For broad and long, they're thick and round; I have,'tis true, much greater scope

And therefore if you choose the way, Than you my friend, can ever hope ;

To leap the window, as you say,

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