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As, proftrate to the God of Day, ith heart devout, a Perfian lay, His invocation thus begun:

"Parent of Light! all-seeing Sun! Prolific beam, whofe rays difpenfe The various gifts of Providence, Accept our praife, our daily prayer;

Smile on our fields, and blefs the year."

A Cloud, who mock'd his grateful tongue,
The day with fudden darkness hung;

With pride and envy swell'd, aloud
A voice thus thunder'd from the Cloud.
"Weak is this gaudy god of thine,
Whom I at will forbid to shine.

Shall I nor vows nor incenfe know?
Where praife is due, the praise bestow."
With fervent zeal the Perfian mov'd,
Thus the proud Calumny reprov'd.

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"It was that God who claims my prayer

Who gave thee birth, and rais'd thee there;

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When o'er his beams the veil is thrown,
Thy fubftance is but plainer fhown:
A paffing gale, a puff of wind,
Difpels thy thickeft troops combin'd.”
The gale arofe; the vapour toft
(The fport of winds) in air was loft;
The glorious orb the day refines.
Thus envy breaks, thus merit fhines.

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FABLE

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FABLE

XXIX.

THE FOX AT THE POINT OF DEATH.

FOX, in life's extreme decay,

Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay:

All appetite had left his maw,

And age difarm'd his mumbling jaw.
His numerous race around him stand,
To learn their dying fire's command:
He rais'd his head with whining moan,
And thus was heard the feeble tone.
"Ah! Sons! from evil ways depart;
My crimes lie heavy on my heart.
See, fee, the murder'd Geefe appear
Why are those bleeding Turkeys there?
Why all around this cackling train,
Who haunt my ears for chicken flain ?”

!

The hungry Foxes round them star'd, And for the promis'd feaft prepar'd.

"Where, Sir, is all this dainty cheer? Nor Turkey, Goose, nor Hen, is here. These are the phantoms of your brain; fons lick their lips in vain." "O Gluttons! fays the drooping Sire, Reftrain inordinate defire.

And your

Your liquorish taste you fhall deplore,
When peace of confcience is no more.

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Does not the hound betray our pace,

And gins and guns destroy our race ?

Thieves dread the fearching eye of power;
And never feel the quiet hour.

Old age (which few of us fhall know)

Now puts a period to my woe.

Would you true happiness attain,

Let honefty your paffions rein;
So live in credit and esteem,

And the good name you loft redeem."
"The counfel's good, a Fox replies,
Could we perform what you
advife.
Think what our ancestors have done;
A line of thieves from fon to fon.
To us defcends the long difgrace,

And infamy hath mark'd our race.

Though we, like harmless fheep, fhould feed,
Honeft in thought, in word, and deed,
Whatever hen-rooft is decreas'd,

We fhall be thought to fhare the feaft.
The change fhall never be believ'd.
A loft good name is ne'er retriev'd.”
"Nay, then, replies the feeble Fox,
(But, hark! I hear a hen that clucks)
Go; but be moderate in your food;
A chicken, too, might do me good."

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FABLE

FABLE

XXX.

THE SETTING-DOG AND THE PARTRIDGE.

HE ranging Dog the stubble tries,

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And fearches every breeze that flies;
The fcent grows warm; with cautious fear
He creeps, and points the covey near;
The men, in filence, far behind,
Conscious of game, the net unbind.

A Partridge, with experience wife,
The fraudful preparation spies;

She mocks their toils, alarms her brood,
The covey fprings, and fecks the wood;
But, ere her certain wing she tries,
Thus to the creeping Spaniel cries:
"Thou fawning flave to man's deceit,
Thou pimp of luxury, fncaking cheat,
Of thy whole fpecies thou difgrace;
Dogs fhould difown thee of their race!
For, if I judge their native parts,
They're born with honest

open hearts;

And, ere they ferv'd man's wicked ends,
Were generous foes, or real friends."

When thus the Dog, with fcornful smile:
"Secure of wing, thou dar'st revile.
Clowns are to polish'd manners blind;
How ignorant is the ruftic mind!

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My worth fagacious courtiers fee,
And to preferment rife, like me.
The thriving pimp, who beauty fets,
Hath oft' enhanc'd a nation's debts :
Friend fets his friend, without regard,
And minifters his fkill reward:
Thus train'd by man, I learnt his ways;
And growing favour feasts my days.”

"I night have guefs'd, the Partridge faid, The place where you were train'd and fed; Servants are apt, and in a trice

Ape to a hair their mafter's vicc.

You came from court, you fay. Adieu!"
She faid, and to the covey flew.

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A

FABLE XXXI.

THE UNIVERSAL APPARITION.

RAKE, by every paflion rul'd,

With every vice his youth had cool'd;

Disease his tainted blood affails;

His fpirits droop, his vigour fails:
With fecret ills at home he pines,
And, like infirm old age, declines.

As, twing'd with pain, he penfive fits,
And raves, and prays, and fwears, by fits,
A ghaftly Phantom, lean and wan,
Before him rofe, and thus began :

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