The bird was talkative and loud,
And very pert and very proud;
As worthlefs and as vain a thing,
Perhaps, as ever wore a wing.
She found, as on a spray she sat,
The little friends were deep in chat;
That virtue was their fav'rite theme,
And toil and probity their scheme :
Such talk was hateful to her breast;
She thought them arrant prudes at best.
When to difplay her naughty mind,
Hunger with cruelty combin'd,
She view'd the Ant with favage eyes,
And hopt and hopt to fnatch her prize.
The Bec, who watch'd her op'ning bill,
And guets'd her fell defign to kill,
Ak'd her from what her anger rofe,
And why the treated Ants as foes?
The Sparrow her reply began,
And thus the converfation ran :
Whenever I'm difpos'd to dine,
I think the whole creation mine;
That I'm a bird of high degree,
And ev'ry infect made for me.
Hence oft I fearch the emmet-brood
(For emmets are delicious food)
And oft, in wantonnefs and play,
I fay ten thousand in a day.
For truth it is, without disguise,
That I love mifchief as my eyes.
Oh! fie, the honeft Bee replied,
I fear you make bafe man your guide;
Of ev'ry creature fure the worst,
Though in creation's fcale the firft!
Ungrateful man! 'tis ftrange he thrives,
Who burns the Bees to rob their hives!
I hate his vile administration,
And fo do all the emmet nation.
What fatal foes to birds are men,
Quite to the Eagle from the Wren!
O do not men's example take,
Who mischief do for mischief's fake;
But fpare the Ant-her worth demands
Efteem and friendship at your hands.
A mind with ev'ry virtue bleft,
Muft raife compaffion in your breaft.
Virtue ! rejoin'd the fneering bird,
Where did you learn that Gothic word?
Since I was hatch'd, I never hear'd
That virtue was at all rever'd.
But fay it was the ancients claim,
Yet moderns difavow the name;
Unlefs, my dear, you read romances,
I cannot reconcile your fancics.
Virtue in fairy tales is feen

To play the goddess or the queen;
But what's a queen without the pow'r?
Or beauty, child, without a dow'r?
Yet this is all that virtue brags,
At beft 'tis only worth in rags.
Such whims my very heart derides:
Indeed you make me burft my fides.
Truft me, Mifs Bee-to speak the truth,
I've copied men from earliest youth;

The fame our tafte, the fame our school,
Paffion and appetite our rule;

And call me bird, or call me finner,
I'll ne'er forego my fport or dinner.

A prowling cat the mifcreant fpies,
And wide expands her amber eyes:
Near and more near Grimalkin draws;
She wags her tail, protends her paws;
Then, fpringing on her thoughtle's prey,
She bore the vicious bird away.

Thus, in her cruelty and pride, The wicked wanton Sparrow died.

§ 260. The Bears and Bees. MERRICK. AS two young Bears in wanton mood,

Forth iffuing from a neighb'ring wood, Came where th'induftrious Bees had ftor'd In artful cells their lufcious hoard; O'erjoy'd they feiz'd with eager hafte Luxurious on the rich repaft. Alarm'd at this, the little crew About their ears vindictive flew. The beafts, unable to sustain Th'unequal combat, quit the plain; Half blind with rage, and mad with pain, Their native fhelter they regain; There fit, and now, difcreeter grown, Too late their rafhnefs they bemoan; And this by dear experience gain, That pleafure's ever bought with pain. So when the gilded baits of vice Are plac'd before our longing eyes, With greedy hafte we fnatch our fill, And fwallow down the latent ill; But when experience opes our eyes, Away the fancy'd pleasure flies: It flies, but oh! too late we find It leaves a real fting behind.

§ 261. The Camelion. MERRICK OFT has it been my lot to mark A proud conceited talking spark, With eyes, that hardly ferv'd at most

To guard their mafter 'gainst a post;
Yet round the world the blade has been,
To fee whatever could be feen:
Returning from his finish'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before;
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop:
"Sir, if my judgment you'll allow-
"I've feen-and fure I ought to know"-
So begs you'd pay a due fubmiffion,
And acquiefce in his decifion.

Two travellers of fuch a caft, As o'er Arabia's wilds they pafs'd, And on their way in friendly chat Now talk'd of this, and then of that, Difcours'd a while, 'mongst other matter, Of the Camelion's form and nature. "A ftranger animal," crics one, "Sure never liv'd beneath the fun : "A lizard's body, lean and long, "A fifh's head, a ferpent's tongue;

Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd; "And what a length of tail behind! "How flow its pace! and then its huc"Who ever faw fo fine a blue?"

Hold there,' the other quick replies, 'Tis green,-I faw it with thefe eyes, As late with open mouth it lay, And warm'd it in the funny ray; 'Stretch'd at its cafe the beaft I view'd, And faw it eat the air for focd.' "I've seen it, Sir, as well as you, "And muft again affirm it blue. "At leifure I the beaft furvey'd, "Extended in the cooling fhade."

'Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I affure yc.'"Green!" cries the other in a fury

Why, Sir, d'ye think I've loft my eyes?" 'Twere no great lofs,' the friend replies, For, if they always ferve you thus, You'll find them but of little ufc.' So high at laft the contest rofe, From words they almost came to blows: When luckily came by a thirdTo him the queftion they referr'd; And begg'd he'd tell 'em, if he knew Whether the thing was green or blue.

Scarce had the thund'rer giv'n the nod
That fhook the vaulted skies,
With haughtier air the creatures strode,
And ftretch'd their dwindled fize.
The hair in curls luxuriant now
Around their temples fpread;
The tail, that whilom hung below,
Now dangled from the head.
The head remains unchang'd within,
Nor alter'd much the face;

It still retains its native grin,
And all its old grimace.

Thus half transform'd, and half the fame,
Jove bade them take their place
(Reftoring them their ancient claim)
Among the human race.

Man with contempt the brute furvey'd,
Nor would a name bestow;

But woman lik'd the motley breed,
And call'd the thing a beau.

$263. Know Thyself. ARBUTHNOT: WHAT am I? how produc'd and for what

end?

Whence drew I being to what period tend?

"The creature's neither one nor t'other: "I caught the animal last night,

And view'd it o'er by candle-light: I mark'd it well-'twas black as jet"You ftare-but, Sirs, I've got it yet, "And can produce it." Pray, Sir, do: I'll lay my life, the thing is blue.' "And I'll be fworn, that when you've feen The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." " Well then, at once, to cafe the doubt,' Replies the man, I'll turn him out: And when before your eyes I've fet him, If you don't find him black, I eat him.' He faid; then full before their fight Produc'd the beast, and lo-'twas white. Both ftar'd; the inan look'd wondrous wife"My children," the Camelion cries (Then first the creature found a tongue)

You all are right, and all are wrong: "When next you talk of what you view, "Think others fee as well as you : "Nor wonder, if you find that none "Prefers your cyc-fight to his own."

§ 267: The Monkeys. A Tale. MERRICK.
WHOE'ER, with curious eye, has rang'd
Through Ovid's tales, has feen
How Jove, incens'd, to Monkeys chang'd
A tribe of worthless men.
Repentant foon, th' offending race
Intreat the injur'd pow'r

To give them back the human face,
And reafon's aid restore.

Jove, footh'd at length, his car inclin'd
And granted half their pray'r!
But t'other half he bade the wind
Difperfe in empty air..

Dropp'd by wild atoms in diforder'd dance?
Or from an endless chain of causes wrought,
And of unthinking fubftance, born with thought
By motion which began without a cause,
Supremely wife, without defign or laws?
Am I but what I feem, mere flesh and blood?
A branching channel, with a mazy flood?
The purple ftream that through my veffels glides;
Dull and unconftious flows, like common tides;
The pipes through which the circling juices ftray;
Are not that thinking I, no more than they :
This frame, compacted with transcendant skill
Of moving joints obedient to my will,
Nurs'd from the fruitful glebe, like yonder tree;
Waxes and waftes; I call it mine, not me.
New matter ftill the mould'ring mafs fuftains;
The mantion chang'd, the tenant ftill remains,
And from the fleeting ftream, repair'd by food;
Diftinct, as is the fwimmer from the flood.

What am I then? fure of a noble birth;
By parents right, I own as mother, Earth;
But claim fuperior lineage by my fire,
Who warm'd th' unthinking clod with heavenly
Effence divine, with lifelefs clay allay'd, [fire;
By double nature, double inftinet fway'd:
With look erect, I dart my longing eye,
Seem wing'd to part, and gain my native sky;
I ftrive to mount, but ftrive, alas! in vain,
Tied to this maffy globe with magic chain.
Now with swift thought I range from pole to pole,
View worlds around their flaming centres roll:
What fteady pow'rs their endless motions guide
Through the fame trackiefs paths of boundless
I trace the blazing comet's fiery tail, [void!
And weigh the whirling planets in a scale;
Thefe godlike thoughts while eager I pursue,
Some glitt'ring trifle offer'd to my view,
A gnat,

A gnat, an insect of the meanest kind,
Erafe the new-born image from my mind:
Some beaftly want, craving, importunate,
Vile as the grinning maftiff at my gate,
Calls off from heavenly truth this reas'ning me,
And tells me I'm a brute as much as he.
If, on fublimer wings of love and praise,
My foul above the ftarry vault I raise,
Lur'd by fome vain conceit, or fhameful luft,
I flag, I drop, and flutter in the duft.
The tow ring lark thus, from her lofty ftrain,
Strops to an emmet, or a barley grain.
By adverfe gufts of jarring instincts toft,
I rove to one, now to the other coaft;
To blifs unknown my lofty foul afpires,
My lot unequal to my vaft defires."

As mongst the hinds a child of royal birth
Finds his high pedigree by confcious worth;
So man, amongst his fellow brutes expos'd,
Sees he's a king, but 'tis a king depos'd.
Pity him, beafts! you by no law confin'd,
And barr'd from devious paths by being blind;
Whilft man, through op'ning views of various

ways

Confounded, by the aid of knowledge ftrays;
Too weak to choofe, yet choofing ftill in hafte,
One moment gives the pleafure and distaste;
Bilk'd by paft minutes, while the present cloy,
The flatt'ring future ftill muft give the joy :
Not happy, but amus'd upon the road,
And (like you) thoughtlefs of his last abode,
Whether next fun his being fhall restrain
To endless nothing, happiness, or pain.
Around me, lo! the thinking thoughtless crew
(Bewilder'd each) their diff'rent paths purfue;
Of them I afk the way; the first replies,
Thou art a god; and fends me to the skies:

Offspring of God, no lefs thy pedigree, [be,
What thou once wert, art now, and still may
Thy God alone can tell, alone decree ;
Faultlefs thou dropp'dft from his unerring fkill,
With the bare pow'r to fin, fince free of will:
Yet charge not with thy guilt his bounteous love,
For who has pow'r to walk has pow'r to rove:
Who acts by force impell'd can nought deserve;
And witdom fhort of infinite may fwerve.
Borne on thy new-imp'd wings, thou took'st thy
Left thy Creator, and the realms of light; [flight,
Difdain'd his gentle precept to fulfil,

And thought to grow a god by doing ill:
Though by foul guilt thy heav'nly form defac'd,
In nature chang'd, from happy manfions chas'd,
Thou ftill retain'ft fome fparks of heavenly fire,
Too faint to mount, yet reftlefs to aspire;
Angel enough to feek thy blifs again,
And brute enough to make thy fearch in vain.
The creatures now withdraw their kindly use,
Some fly thee, fome torment, and fome feduce;
Repaft ill-fuited to fuch diff'rent guests,
For what thy fenfe defires, thy foul distastes;
Thy luft, thy curiofity, thy pride,

Curb'd, or deferv'd, or baulk'd, or gratified,
Rage on, and make thee equally unblefs'd [fefs'd.
In what thou want'ft, and what thou haft pof-
In vain thou hop'ft for blifs on this poor clod;
Return and feek thy Father and thy God;
Yet think not to regain thy native sky,
Borne on the wings of vain philofophy!
Myfterious paffage! hid from human eyes;
Soaring you'll fink, and finking you will rife:
Let humble thoughts thy wary footsteps guide;
Repair by meekness what you loft by pride.

'Helplefs, forlorn, uncertain here I ftand; Take this faint glimm'ring of thyfelf away, 'Or break into my foul with perfect day!'' This faid, expanded lay the facred text, The balm, the light, the guide of fouls perplex'd. Thus the benighted traveller that ftrays Through doubtful paths, enjoys the morning rays: The nightly mift, and thick defcending dew, Parting, unfold the fields and vaulted blue. 'O Truth divine! enlighten'd by thy ray, I grope and guess no more, but fee my way; 'Thou clear'dft the fecret of my high descent, And told'ft me what thofe myftic tokens meant; Marks of my birth, which I had worn in vain, "Too hard for worldly fages to explain. 'Zeno's were vain, vain Epicurus' fchemes, Their fyftems falfe, delufive were their dreams; Unfkill'd my twofold nature to divide, One nurs'd mypleasure, and one nurs'd mypride; Thofe jarring truths which hunan art beguile, Thy facred page thus bids me reconcile."

I could recite. Tho' old, he still retain'd
His manly fenfe, and energy of mind.
Virtuous and wife he was, but not fevere;
He ftill remember'd that he once was young;
His eafy prefence check'd no decent joy.
Him even the diffolute admir'd; for he
A graceful loofenefs when he pleas'd put on,
And laughing could instruct. Much had he read,
Much more had feen; he ftudied from the life,
And in th' original perus'd mankind.

Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life,
He pitied man; and much he pitied those
Whom falfely-finiling fate has curs'd with means
To diffipate their days in quest of joy.
Our aim is happinefs: 'tis yours, 'tis mine,
He faid, 'tis the purfuit of all that live;
Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd.
But they the wideft wander from the mark,
Who thro' the flow'ry paths of faun'tring joy
Seek this coy goddefs; that from stage to ftage
Invites us ftill, but fhifts as we pursue.
For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings
To counterpoife itfelf, relentlefs Fate

Forbids

Forbids that we thro' gay voluptuous wilds
Should ever roam and were the Fates more kind,
Our narrow luxuries would foon be ftale.
Were thefe exhauft lefs, Nature would grow fick,
And, cloy'd with pleasure, fqueamishly complain
That all was vanity, and life a dream.
Let nature reft: be bufy for yourself,
And for your friend; be bufy even in vain,
Rather than teaze her fated appetites.
Who never fafts, no banquet e'er enjoys;
Who never toils or watches, never fleeps.
Let nature reft: and when the taste of joy
Grows keen, indulge; but fhun fatiety.

'Tis not for mortals always to be bleft.
But him the leaft the dull or painful hours
Of life opprefs, whom fober Sense conducts,
And Virtue, thro' this labyrinth we tread.
Virtue and Senfe I mean not to disjoin;
Virtue and Senfe are one: and, truft me, he
Who has not virtue, is not truly wife.
Virtue (for mere Good-nature is a fool)
Is fenfe and fpirit, with humanity :
'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds;
'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance juft.
Knaves fain would laugh at it; fome great ones
But at his heart the moft undaunted fon [dare;
Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms.
To nobleft ufes this determines wealth:
This is the folid pomp of profperous days,
The peace and fhelter of adverfity.
And if you pant for glory, build your fame
On this foundation, which the fecret fhock
Defics of Envy and all fapping Time.
The gaudy glofs of Fortune only ftrikes
The vulgar eye: the fuffrage of the wife,
The praife that's worth ambition, is attain'd
By fenfe alone, and dignity of mind.

Virtue, the ftrength and beauty of the foul,
Is the beft gift of Heaven: a happiness
That even above the fmiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites: a wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor to bafer hands
Can be transferr'd: it is the only good
Man juftly boafts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and bafenefs earn'd;
Or dealt by chance to thield a lucky knave,
Or throw a cruel funthine on a fool.
But for one end, one much-neglected ufe,
Arc riches worth your care (for Nature's wants
Are few, and without opulence fupplied)-
This noble end is, to produce the Soul,
To fhew the virtues in their faireft light;
To make Humanity the minifter

Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast
That generous luxury the Gods enjoy.-
Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage
Sometimes declaim'd. Of right and wrong he
Truths as refin'd as ever Athens hoard; [taught
And (ftrange to tell! )he practis'd what he preach'd.

$265. The Pain arifing from virtuous Emotions
attended with Pleafure. AKENSIDE.
BEH
EHOLD the ways

Of Heaven's eternal deftiny to man,

For ever juft, benevolent and wise : That Virtue's awful steps, howe'er pursued By vexing Fortune and intrufive Pain, Should never be divided from her chaste, Her fair attendant, Pleafure. Need I urge Thy tardy thought through all the various round Of this exiftence, that thy foft'ning foul At length may learn what energy the hand Of Virtue mingles in the bitter tide Of paffion fwelling with diftrefs and pain, To mitigate the fharp with gracious drops Of cordial Pleasure? Afk the faithful youth, Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd So often fills his arms; fo often draws His lonely footsteps at the filent hour, Το pay the mournful tribute of his tears? O! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds Should ne'er feduce his bofom to forego That facred hour, when, ftealing from the noife Of care and envy, fweet remembrance fooths With virtue's kindeft looks his aching breast, And turns his tears to rapture.-Ask the crowd Which flies impatient from the village-walk To climb the neighb'ring cliffs, when far below The cruel winds have hurl'd upon the coaft Some hapless bark; while facred pity melts The gen'ral eye, or terror's icy hand Smites their diftorted limbs and horrent hair; While every mother closer to her breast Catches her child, and pointing where the waves Foam thro' the fhatter'd veffel, fhricks aloud, As one poor wretch, that fpreads his pitcous arms For fuccour, fwallow'd by the roaring furge, As now another, dash'd against the rock Drops lifelefs down. O deemeft thou indeed No kind endearment here by nature giv❜n To mutual terror and compaffion's tears? No fweetly-melting foftnefs which attracts, O'er all that edge of pain, the focial pow'rs To this their proper action and their endAfk thy own heart; when at the midnight hour, Slow thro' that ftudious gloom thy paufing eyeLed by the glimm'ring taper moves around The facred volumes of the dead, the fongs Of Grecian bards, and records writ by fame For Grecian heroes, where the prefent pow'r Of heaven and earth furveys th immortal page, E'en as a father bleffing, while he reads The praifes of his fon; if then thy foul, Spurning the yoke of thefe inglorious days, Mix in their deeds and kindle with their flame: Say, when the prospect blackens on thy view; When rooted from the bafe, heroic states Mourn in the duft and tremble at the frown Of curft ambition;- -when the pious band Of youths that fought for freedoin and their fires, Lie fide by fide in gore ;-when ruffian-pride Ufurps the throne of juftice, turns the pomp Of public pow'r, the majefty of rule, The fword, the laurel, and the purple robe, To flavifh empty pageants, to adorn A tyrant's walk, and glitter in the eyes Of fuch as bow the knce;-when honour'd ums Of patriots and of chiefs, the awful bust And

And ftoried arch, to glut the coward race
Of regal envy, ftrew the public way
With hallow d ruins when the mufe's haunt,
The marble porch where wifdom, wont to talk
With Socrates or Tully, hears no more,
Save the hoarfe jargon of contentious monks,
Or female fuperftition's midnight prav'r;—
When rethlefs rapine from the hand of Time
Tears the deftroying fcythe, with furer blow
To fweep the works of glory from their base;
Till defolation o'er the grass-grown street
Expands his raven-wings, and up the wall,
Where fenates once the pride of monarchs doom'd,
Hides the gliding fnake thro' hoary weeds
That cap the mould'ring column;-thus defac'd,
Thus widely mournful when the profpect thrills
Thy beating bofom, when the patriot's tear
Starts from thine eye, and thy extended arm
In fancy hurls the thunderbolt of Jove
To fire the impious wreath on Philip's brow,
Or dash Octavius from the trophied car;-
Sav, does thy fecret foul repine to taste
The big diftrefs Or wouldst thou then exchange
Thof heart-ennobling forrows, for the lot
Of him who fits amid the gaudy herd
Of mute barbarians bending to his nod,
And bears aloft his gold-invefted front,
And fays within himself," I am a king,

[woc

And wherefore should the clam'rous voice of "Intrude upon mine ear?" The baleful dregs Of thefe late ages, this inglorious draught Of fervitude and folly, have not yet, Bit be th' Eternal Ruler of the world! Defi.'d to fuch a depth of fordid shame The native honours of the human foul, Nor fo effac'd the image of its fire.

266. A Paraphrafe on Pfalm xxiv. 16, 17. Mifs WILLIAMS. The day is thine, the night alfo is thine; thou haft prepared the light ard the fun. Then at et all the borders of the earth; thou haft made fummer asi winter.

Y God! all nature owns thy fway,

Μ'

Thou giv'ft the night, and thou the day!
When all thy lov'd creation wakes,
When morning, rich in luftre, breaks,
And bathes in dew the op'ning flower,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour;
And when the pours her choral fong,
Her melodies to thee belong!
Or when, in paler tints array'd,
The evening flowly fpreads her fhade;
That foothing fhade, that grateful gloom,
Can more than day's enliv'ning bloom
Still every fond and vain defire,
And calmer, purer thoughts infpire;
From earth the penfive fpirit free,
And lead the foften'd heart to Thee.
In every fcene thy hands have dreft,
In every form by thee impreft,
Upon the mountain's awful head,

Or where the fhelt'ring woods are fpread;
In every note that fwells the gale,
Or tuneful ftream that cheers the vale,

"All forms of ill, to fhield that dearest care; "She! who with anguish ftung, with madnesswild, "Will rush on death to fave her threaten'd child; "All felnifh feelings banifh'd from her breast, Her life one aim to make another's blest. "When her vex'd infant to her bofom clings, "When round her neck his cager arms he flings "Breathes to her lift'ning foul his melting figh "And lifts fuffus'd with tears his asking eye! "Will the for all ambition can attain, "The charms of pleafure, or the lures of gain, "Betray ftrong Nature's feelings; will the prove "Cold to the claims of duty, and of love? "But fhould the mother from her yearning heart "Bid the foft image of her child depart; "When the vex'd infant to her bofom clings, "When round her neck his eager arms he flings; "Should the unpitying hear his melting figh, "And view unmov'd the tear that fills his eye; "Should the for all ambition can attain, "The charms of pleasure, or the lures of gain, "Betray ftrong Nature's feelings-fhould the prove

"Cold to the claims of duty, and of love! "Yet never will the God, whofe word gave birth "To yon illumin'd orbs, and this fair carth; "Who thro' the boundless depths of track lefs fpace "Bade new-wak'dbeautyfpread each perfect grace; "Yet when he form'd the vaft ftupendous whole, "Shed his best bounties on the human foul; "Which reafon's light illumes, which friendship

❝ warms,

"Which pity foftens, and which virtue charms; "Which feels the pure affections gen'rous glow, "Shares others joy, and bleeds for others woc"Oh never will the gen'ral Father prove "Of man forgetful, man the child of love!" When all thofe planets in their ample spheres Have wing'd their courfe, and roll'd their deftin'd years;

When