Led by those great examples, may not I
The wanted organs of their words fupply?
If men tranfact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let thofe remember, that she cannot die
Till rolling time is loft in round eternity;
Nor need the fear the Panther, though untam'd,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaim'd:
The wary favage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watch'd the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry fons in frequent fenate met.
Mean-while the quench'd her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten fallad cool'd her blood.

Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whofe noble nature ftrove
T'express her plain fimplicity of love,

Did all the honours of her house fo well,
No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal.
She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers paft, a fadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tofs'd the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own childrens fate.
Nor fail'd fhe then a full review to make

Of what the Panther fuffer'd for her fake :

E 3

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Her

Her loft efteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unfhaken to an exil'd heir,

Her ftrength t' endure, her courage to defy ;
Her choice of honourable infamy.

On thefe, prolixly thankful, fhe enlarg'd;
'Then with acknowledgment herself she charg'd ;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,

Is made more facred by adverfity.

Now fhould they part, malicious tongues would fay,
'They met like chance companions on the way,
Whom mutual fear of robbers had poffefs'd;
While danger lafted, kindness was profefs'd;
But, that once o'er, the fhort-liv'd union ends :
The road divides, and there divide the friends.
The Panther nodded when her fpeech was done,
And thank'd her coldly in a hollow tone :
But faid, her gratitude had gone too far
For common offices of chriftian care.
If to the lawful heir fhe had been true,
She paid but Cæfar what was Cæsar's due.
I might, fhe added, with like praise defcribe
Your fuffering fons, and fo return your bribe
But incenfe from my hands is poorly priz'd;
For gifts are fcorn'd where givers are defpis'd.
I ferv'd a turn, and then was caft away;
You, like the gaudy fly, your wings display,
And fip the fweets, and bask in your great patron's
day.

This heard, the matron was not flow to find

What fort of malady had feiz'd her mind :

5

Difdain,

Difdain, with gnawing envy, fell defpight,
And canker'd malice, ftood in open fight:
Ambition, intereft, pride without control,
And jealoufy, the jaundice of the foul;
Revenge, the bloody minifter of ill,
With all the lean tormentors of the will.
'Twas eafy now to guefs from whence arofe
Her new-made union with her ancient foes,
Her forc'd civilities, her faint embrace,
Affected kindness with an alter'd face:
Yet durft fhe not too deeply probe the wound,
As hoping ftill the nobler parts were found :
But ftrove with anodynes t' afwage the fmart,
And mildly thus her medicine did impart.

Complaints of lovers help to ease their pain;
It shows a rest of kindness to complain;
A friendship loth to quit its former hold;
And confcious merit may be justly bold.
But much more just your jealousy would shew,
If others' good were injury to you:
Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to fee
Rewarded worth and rising loyalty.

Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown,
The fcarlet honour of your peaceful gown,
Are the most pleafing objects I can find,

Charms to my fight, and cordials to my mind:
When virtue fpooms before a profperous gale,
My heaving wishes help to fill the sail;

And if my prayers for all the brave were heard,

Cæfar fhould ftil! have fuch, and fuch should still reward.

The labour'd earth your pains have fow'd and till'd;
'Tis juft you reap the product of the field:
Your's be the harvest, 'tis the beggar's gain
To glean the fallings of the loaded wain.
Such fcatter'd ears as are not worth your care,
Your charity for alms may fafely spare,
For alms are but the vehicles of prayer.
My daily bread is literally implor'd;
I have no barns nor granaries to hoard.,
If Cæfar to his own his hand extends,
Say which of yours his charity offends :

You know he largely gives to more than are his friends,
Are defrauded when he feeds the poor?
Our mite decreafes nothing of your store.

you

I am but few, and by your fare you fee
My crying fins are not of luxury.

Some jufter motive fure your mind withdraws,
And makes you break our friendship's holy laws;
For barefac'd envy is too bafe a cause.

Shew more occafion for your difcontent ;
Your love, the Wolf, would help you to invent:
Some German quarrel, or, as times go now,
Some French, where force is uppermoft, will do.
When at the fountain's head, as merit ought
To claim the place, you take a swilling draught,
How easy 'tis an envious eye to throw,
And tax the sheep for troubling streams below;
Or call her (when no farther caufe you find)
An enemy profess'd of all your kind,

But

But then, perhaps, the wicked world would think,
The Wolf defign'd to eat as well as drink.

This last allufion gall'd the Panther more,
Because indeed it rubb'd upon the fore.

Yet feem'd she not to winch, though shrewdly pain'd:
But thus her paffive character maintain'd.

I never grudg'd, whate'er my foes
report,
Your flaunting fortune in the Lion's court.
You have your day, or you are much bely'd,
But I am always on the suffering fide :
You know my doctrine, and I need not fay
I will not, but I cannot difobey.

On this firm principle I ever ftood;

He of my fons who fails to make it good,
By one rebellious act renounces to my blood.
Ah, faid the Hind, how many fons have you,
Who call you mother, whom you never knew!
But most of them who that relation plead,
Are fuch ungracious youths as wish you dead.
They gape at rich revenues which you hold,
And fain would nibble at your grandame Gold;
Enquire into your years, and laugh to find
Your crazy temper fhews you much declin’d.
Were you not dim, and doted, you might fee
A pack of cheats that claim a pedigree,

No more of kin to

you than you to me.
Do you not know, that for a little coin,
Heralds can foift a name into the line?
They ask you bleffing but for what you have,
But once poffefs'd of what with care you fave,
The wanton boys would piss upon your grave.

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Your