What from the founder Esop fell,

In neat familiar verse I tell:

Twofold’s the genius of the page,

To make you smile and make you sage.

But if the critics we displease,

By wrangling brutes and talking trees,

Let them remember, ere they blame,

We’re working neither sin nor shame;

’Tis but a play to form the youth

By fiction, in the cause of truth.

By thirst incited; to the brook

The Wolf and Lamb themselves betook.

The Wolf high up the current drank,

The Lamb far lower down the bank.

Then, bent his rav’nous maw to cram,

The Wolf took umbrage at the Lamb.

“How dare you trouble all the flood,

And mingle my good drink with mud?”

“Sir,” says the Lambkin, sore afraid,

“How should I act, as you upbraid?

The thing you mention cannot be,

The stream descends from you to me.”

Abash’d by facts, says he, “I know

’Tis now exact six months ago

You strove my honest fame to blot”—

“Six months ago, sir, I was not.”

“Then ’twas th’ old ram thy sire,” he cried,

And so he tore him, till he died.

To those this fable I address

Who are determined to oppress,

And trump up any false pretence,

But they will injure innocence.

With equal laws when Athens throve,

The petulance of freedom drove

Their state to license, which o’erthrew

Those just restraints of old they knew.

Hence, as a factious discontent

Through every rank and order went,

Pisistratus the tyrant form’d

A party, and the fort he storm’d:

Which yoke, while all bemoan’d in grief,

(Not that he was a cruel chief,

But they unused to be controll’d)

Then Esop thus his fable told:

The Frogs, a freeborn people made,

From out their marsh with clamor pray’d

That Jove a monarch would assign

With power their manners to refine.

The sovereign smiled, and on their bog

Sent his petitioners a log,

Which, as it dash’d upon the place,

At first alarm’d the tim’rous race.

But ere it long had lain to cool,

One slily peep’d out of the pool,

And finding it a king in jest,

He boldly summon’d all the rest.

Now, void of fear, the tribe advanced,

And on the timber leap’d and danced,

And having let their fury loose,

In gross affronts and rank abuse,

Of Jove they sought another king,

For useless was this wooden thing.

Then he a water-snake empower’d,

Who one by one their race devour’d.

They try to make escape in vain,

Nor, dumb through fear, can they complain.

By stealth they Mercury depute,

That Jove would once more hear their suit,

And send their sinking state to save;

But he in wrath this answer gave:

“You scorn’d the good king that you had,

And therefore you shall bear the bad.”

Ye likewise, O Athenian friends,

Convinced to what impatience tends,

Though slavery be no common curse,

Be still, for fear of worse and worse.

Lest any one himself should plume,

And on his neighbour’s worth presume;

But still let Nature’s garb prevail—

Esop has left this little tale:

A Daw, ambitious and absurd,

Pick’d up the quills of Juno’s bird;

And, with the gorgeous spoil adorn’d,

All his own sable brethren scorn’d,

And join’d the peacocks—who in scoff

Stripp’d the bold thief, and drove him off.

The Daw, thus roughly handled, went

To his own kind in discontent:

But they in turn contemn the spark,

And brand with many a shameful mark.

Then one he formerly disdain’d,

“Had you,” said he, “at home remain’d—

Content with Nature’s ways and will,

You had not felt the peacock’s bill;

Nor ’mongst the birds of your own dress

Had been deserted in distress.”

The churl that wants another’s fare

Deserves at least to lose his share.

As through the stream a Dog convey’d

A piece of meat, he spied his shade

In the clear mirror of the flood,

And thinking it was flesh and blood,

Snapp’d to deprive him of the treat:—

But mark the glutton’s self-defeat,

Miss’d both another’s and his own,

Both shade and substance, beef and bone.

A partnership with men in power

We cannot build upon an hour.

This Fable proves the fact too true:

An Heifer, Goat, and harmless Ewe,

Were with the Lion as allies,

To raise in desert woods supplies.

There, when they jointly had the luck

To take a most enormous buck,

The Lion first the parts disposed,

And then his royal will disclosed.

“The first, as Lion hight, I crave;

The next you yield to me, as brave;

The third is my peculiar due,

As being stronger far than you;

The fourth you likewise will renounce,

For him that touches, I shall trounce.”

Thus rank unrighteousness and force

Seized all the prey without remorse.

When Esop saw, with inward grief,

The nuptials of a neighb’ring thief,

He thus his narrative begun:

Of old ’twas rumor’d that the Sun

Would take a wife: with hideous cries

The quer’lous Frogs alarm’d the skies.

Moved at their murmurs, Jove inquired

What was the thing that they desired?

When thus a tenant of the lake,

In terror, for his brethren spake:

“Ev’n now one Sun too much is found,

And dries up all the pools around,

Till we thy creatures perish here;

But oh, how dreadfully severe,

Should he at length be made a sire,

And propagate a race of fire!”

A Fox beheld a Mask— “O rare

The headpiece, if but brains were there!”

This holds—whene’er the Fates dispense

Pomp, pow’r, and everything but sense.

Who for his merit seeks a price

From men of violence and vice,

Is twice a fool—first so declared,

As for the worthless he has cared;

Then after all, his honest aim

Must end in punishment and shame.

A bone the Wolf devour’d in haste,

Stuck in his greedy throat so fast,

That, tortured with the pain, he roar’d,

And ev’ry beast around implored,

That who a remedy could find

Should have a premium to his mind.

A Crane was wrought upon to trust

His oath at length—and down she thrust

Her neck into his throat impure,

And so perform’d a desp’rate cure.

At which, when she desired her fee,

“You base, ungrateful minx,” says he,

“Whom I so kind forbore to kill,

And now, forsooth, you’d bring your bill!” 

Still to give cautions, as a friend,

And not one’s own affairs attend,

Is but impertinent and vain,

As these few verses will explain.

A Sparrow taunted at a Hare

Caught by an eagle high in air,

And screaming loud— “Where now,” says she,

“Is your renown’d velocity?

Why loiter’d your much boasted speed?”

Just as she spake, an hungry glede

Did on th’ injurious railer fall,

Nor could her cries avail at all.

The Hare, with its expiring breath,

Thus said: “See comfort ev’n in death!

She that derided my distress

Must now deplore her own no less.”

Whoe’er by practice indiscreet

Has pass’d for a notorious cheat,

Will shortly find his credit fail,

Though he speak truth, says Esop’s tale.

The Wolf the Fox for theft arraign’d;

The Fox her innocence maintain’d:

The Ape, as umpire, takes his seat;

Each pleads his cause with skill and heat.

Then thus the Ape, with aspect grave,

The sentence from the hustings gave:

“For you, Sir Wolf, I do descry

That all your losses are a lie—

And you, with negatives so stout,

O Fox! have stolen the goods no doubt.”

A coward, full of pompous speech,

The ignorant may overreach;

But is the laughing-stock of those

Who know how far his valor goes.

Once on a time it came to pass,

The Lion hunted with the Ass,

Whom hiding in the thickest shade

He there proposed should lend him aid,

By trumpeting so strange a bray,

That all the beasts he should dismay,

And drive them o’er the desert heath

Into the lurking Lion’s teeth.

Proud of the task, the long-ear’d loon

Struck up such an outrageous tune,

That ’twas a miracle to hear—

The beasts forsake their haunts with fear,

And in the Lion’s fangs expired:

Who, being now with slaughter tired,

Call’d out the Ass, whose noise he stops.

The Ass, parading from the copse,

Cried out with most conceited scoff,

“How did my music-piece go off?” 

“So well—were not thy courage known,

Their terror had been all my own!”

Full often what you now despise

Proves better than the things you prize;

Let Esop’s narrative decide:

A Stag beheld, with conscious pride,

(As at the fountain-head he stood)

His image in the silver flood,

And there extols his branching horns,

While his poor spindle-shanks he scorns—

But, lo! he hears the hunter’s cries,

And, frighten’d, o’er the champaign flies—

His swiftness baffles the pursuit:

At length a wood receives the brute,

And by his horns entangled there,

The pack began his flesh to tear:

Then dying thus he wail’d his fate:

“Unhappy me! and wise too late!

How useful what I did disdain!

How grievous that which made me vain.”

His folly in repentance ends,

Who, to a flatt’ring knave attends.

A Crow, her hunger to appease,

Had from a window stolen some cheese,

And sitting on a lofty pine

In state, was just about to dine.

This, when a Fox observed below,

He thus harangued the foolish Crow:

“Lady, how beauteous to the view

Those glossy plumes of sable hue!

Thy features how divinely fair!

With what a shape, and what an air!

Could you but frame your voice to sing,

You’d have no rival on the wing.”

But she, now willing to display

Her talents in the vocal way,

Let go the cheese of luscious taste,

Which Renard seized with greedy haste.

The grudging dupe now sees at last

That for her folly she must fast.

A bankrupt Cobbler, poor and lean,

(No bungler e’er was half so mean)

Went to a foreign place, and there

Began his med’cines to prepare:

But one of more especial note

He call’d his sovereign antidote;

And by his technical bombast

Contrived to raise a name at last.

It happen’d that the king was sick,

Who, willing to detect the trick,

Call’d for some water in an ewer,

Poison in which he feign’d to pour

The antidote was likewise mix’d;

He then upon th’ empiric fix’d

To take the medicated cup,

And, for a premium, drink it up

The quack, through dread of death, confess’d

That he was of no skill possess’d;

But all this great and glorious job

Was made of nonsense and the mob.

Then did the king his peers convoke,

And thus unto th’ assembly spoke:

“My lords and gentlemen, I rate

Your folly as inordinate,

Who trust your heads into his hand,

Where no one had his heels japann’d.”—

This story their attention craves

Whose weakness is the prey of knaves.

In all the changes of a state,

The poor are the most fortunate,

Who, save the name of him they call

Their king, can find no odds at all.

The truth of this you now may read—

A fearful old man in a mead,

While leading of his Ass about,

Was startled at the sudden shout

Of enemies approaching nigh.

He then advised the Ass to fly,

“Lest we be taken in the place:”

But loth at all to mend his pace,

“Pray, will the conqueror,” quoth Jack,

“With double panniers load my back?”

“No,” says the man. “If that’s the thing,”

Cries he, “I care not who is king.”

When one rogue would another get

For surety in a case of debt,

’Tis not the thing t’ accept the terms,

But dread th’ event—the tale affirms.

A Stag approach’d the Sheep, to treat

For one good bushel of her wheat.

“The honest Wolf will give his bond.”

At which, beginning to despond,

“The Wolf (cries she) ’s a vagrant bite.

And you are quickly out of sight;

Where shall I find or him or you

Upon the day the debt is due?”

Liars are liable to rue

The mischief they’re so prone to do.

The Sheep a Dog unjustly dunn’d

One loaf directly to refund,

Which he the Dog to the said Sheep

Had given in confidence to keep.

The Wolf was summoned, and he swore

It was not one, but ten or more.

The Sheep was therefore cast at law

To pay for things she never saw.

But, lo! ere many days ensued,

Dead in a ditch the Wolf she view’d:

“This, this,” she cried, “is Heaven’s decree

Of justice on a wretch like thee.”

Bad men have speeches smooth and fair,

Of which, that we should be aware,

And such designing villains thwart,

The underwritten lines exhort.

A Bitch besought one of her kin

For room to put her Puppies in:

She, loth to say her neighbour nay,

Directly lent both hole and hay.

But asking to be repossess’d,

For longer time the former press’d,

Until her Puppies gather’d strength,

Which second lease expired at length;

And when, abused at such a rate,

The lender grew importunate,

“The place,” quoth she, “I will resign

When you’re a match for me and mine.”

A stupid plan that fools project,

Not only will not take effect,

But proves destructive in the end

To those that bungle and pretend.

Some hungry Dogs beheld an hide

Deep sunk beneath the crystal tide,

Which, that they might extract for food,

They strove to drink up all the flood;

But bursten in the desp’rate deed,

They perish’d, ere they could succeed.

Whoever, to his honor’s cost,

His pristine dignity has lost,

Is the fool’s jest and coward’s scorn,

When once deserted and forlorn.

With years enfeebled and decay’d,

A Lion gasping hard was laid:

Then came, with furious tusk, a boar,

To vindicate his wrongs of yore:

The bull was next in hostile spite,

With goring horn his foe to smite:

At length the ass himself, secure

That now impunity was sure,

His blow too insolently deals,

And kicks his forehead with his heels.

Then thus the Lion, as he died:

“’Twas hard to bear the brave,” he cried;

“But to be trampled on by thee

Is Nature’s last indignity;

And thou, O despicable thing,

Giv’st death at least a double sting.”

A Weasel, by a person caught,

And willing to get off, besought

The man to spare. “Be not severe

On him that keeps your pantry clear

Of those intolerable mice.”

“This were,” says he, “a work of price,

If done entirely for my sake,

And good had been the plea you make:

But since, with all these pains and care,

You seize yourself the dainty fare

On which those vermin used to fall,

And then devour the mice and all,

Urge not a benefit in vain.”

This said, the miscreant was slain.

The satire here those chaps will own,

Who, useful to themselves alone,

And bustling for a private end,

Would boast the merit of a friend.

A Man that’s gen’rous all at once

May dupe a novice or a dunce;

But to no purpose are the snares

He for the knowing ones prepares.

When late at night a felon tried

To bribe a Dog with food, he cried,

“What ho! do you attempt to stop

The mouth of him that guards the shop?

You ’re mightily mistaken, sir,

For this strange kindness is a spur,

To make me double all my din,

Lest such a scoundrel should come in.”

When poor men to expenses run,

And ape their betters, they’re undone.

An Ox the Frog a-grazing view’d,

And envying his magnitude,

She puffs her wrinkled skin, and tries

To vie with his enormous size:

Then asks her young to own at least

That she was bigger than the beast.

They answer, No. With might and main

She swells and strains, and swells again.

“Now for it, who has got the day?”

The Ox is larger still, they say.

At length, with more and more ado,

She raged and puffed, and burst in two.

Who give bad precepts to the wise,

And cautious men with guile advise,

Not only lose their toil and time,

But slip into sarcastic rhyme.

The dogs that are about the Nile,

Through terror of the Crocodile,

Are therefore said to drink and run.

It happen’d on a day, that one,

As scamp’ring by the river side,

Was by the Crocodile espied:

“Sir, at your leisure drink, nor fear

The least design or treach’ry here.”

“That,” says the Dog, “ma’m, would I do

With all my heart, and thank you too,

But as you can on dog’s flesh dine,

You shall not taste a bit of mine.”

One should do injury to none;

But he that has th’ assault begun,

Ought, says the fabulist, to find

The dread of being served in kind,

A Fox, to sup within his cave

The Stork an invitation gave,

Where, in a shallow dish, was pour’d

Some broth, which he himself devour’d;

While the poor hungry Stork was fain

Inevitably to abstain.

The Stork, in turn, the Fox invites,

And brings her liver and her lights

In a tall flagon, finely minced,

And thrusting in her beak, convinced

The Fox that he in grief must fast,

While she enjoy’d the rich repast.

Then, as in vain he lick’d the neck,

The Stork was heard her guest to check,

“That every one the fruits should bear

Of their example, is but fair.”

A Dog, while scratching up the ground,

’Mongst human bones a treasure found;

But as his sacrilege was great,

To covet riches was his fate,

And punishment of his offence;

He therefore never stirr’d from thence,

But both in hunger and the cold,

With anxious care he watch’d the gold,

Till wholly negligent of food,

A ling’ring death at length ensued.

Upon his corse a Vulture stood,

And thus descanted:— “It is good,

O Dog, that there thou liest bereaved

Who in the highway wast conceived,

And on a scurvy dunghill bred,

Hadst royal riches in thy head.”

Howe’er exalted in your sphere,

There’s something from the mean to fear;

For, if their property you wrong,

The poor’s revenge is quick and strong.

When on a time an Eagle stole

The cubs from out a Fox’s hole,

And bore them to her young away,

That they might feast upon the prey,

The dam pursues the winged thief,

And deprecates so great a grief;

But safe upon the lofty tree,

The Eagle scorn’d the Fox’s plea.

With that the Fox perceived at hand

An altar, whence she snatch’d a brand,

And compassing with flames the wood,

Put her in terror for her brood.

She therefore, lest her house should burn,

Submissive did the cubs return.

Men of low life are in distress

When great ones enmity profess.

There was a Bull-fight in the fen,

A Frog cried out in trouble then,

“Oh, what perdition on our race!”

“How,” says another, “can the case

Be quite so desp’rate as you’ve said?

For they’re contending who is head,

And lead a life from us disjoin’d,

Of sep’rate station, diverse kind.”—

“But he, who worsted shall retire,

Will come into this lowland mire,

And with his hoof dash out our brains,

Wherefore their rage to us pertains.”

He that would have the wicked reign,

Instead of help will find his bane.

The Doves had oft escaped the Kite,

By their celerity of flight;

The ruffian then to coz’nage stoop’d,

And thus the tim’rous race he duped:

“Why do you lead a life of fear,

Rather than my proposals hear?

Elect me for your king, and

I Will all your race indemnify.”

They foolishly the Kite believed,

Who having now the pow’r received,

Began upon the Doves to prey,

And exercise tyrannic sway.

“Justly,” says one who yet remain’d,

“We die the death ourselves ordain’d.”

The way of writing Esop chose,

Sound doctrine by example shows;

For nothing by these tales is meant,

So much as that the bad repent;

And by the pattern that is set,

Due diligence itself should whet.

Wherefore, whatever arch conceit

You in our narratives shall meet

(If with the critic’s ear it take,

And for some special purpose make),

Aspires by real use to fame,

Rather than from an author’s name.

In fact, with all the care I can,

I shall abide by Esop’s plan:

But if at times I intersperse

My own materials in the verse,

That sweet variety may please

The fancy, and attention ease;

Receive it in a friendly way;

Which grace I purpose to repay

By this consciousness of my song;

Whose praises, lest they be too long,

Attend, why you should stint the sneak,

But give the modest, ere they seek.

A Lion on the carcass stood

Of a young heifer in the wood;

A robber that was passing there,

Came up, and ask’d him for a share.

“A share,” says he, “you should receive,

But that you seldom ask our leave

For things so handily removed.”

At which the ruffian was reproved.

It happen’d that the selfsame day

A modest pilgrim came that way,

And when he saw the Lion, fled:

Says he, “There is no cause of dread,

In gentle tone—take you the chine,

Which to your merit I assign.”—

Then having parted what he slew,

To favour his approach withdrew.

A great example, worthy praise,

But not much copied now-a-days!

For churls have coffers that o’erflow,

And sheepish worth is poor and low.

Fondling or fondled—any how—

(Examples of all times allow)

That men by women must be fleeced.

A dame, whose years were well increased,

But skill’d t’ affect a youthful mien,

Was a staid husband’s empress queen;

Who yet sequester’d half his heart

For a young damsel, brisk and smart.

They, while each wanted to attach

Themselves to him, and seem his match,

Began to tamper with his hair.

He, pleased with their officious care,

Was on a sudden made a coot;

For the young strumpet, branch and root,

Stripp’d of the hoary hairs his crown,

E’en as th’ old cat grubb’d up the brown.

Torn by a Cur, a man was led

To throw the snappish thief some bread

Dipt in the blood, which, he was told,

Had been a remedy of old. Then

Esop thus:— “Forbear to show

A pack of dogs the thing you do,

Lest they should soon devour us quite,

When thus rewarded as they bite.”

One wicked miscreant’s success

Makes many more the trade profess.

An Eagle built upon an oak

A Cat and kittens had bespoke

A hole about the middle bough;

And underneath a woodland

Sow Had placed her pigs upon the ground.

Then treach’rous Puss a method found

To overthrow, for her own good,

The peace of this chance neighbourhood

First to the Eagle she ascends—

“Perdition on your head impends,

And, far too probable, on mine;

For you observe that grubbing

Swine Still works the tree to overset,

Us and our young with ease to get.”

Thus having filled the Eagle’s pate

With consternation very great,

Down creeps she to the Sow below;

“The Eagle is your deadly foe,

And is determined not to spare

Your pigs, when you shall take the air.”

Here too a terror being spread,

By what this tattling gossip said,

She slily to her kittens stole,

And rested snug within her hole.

Sneaking from thence with silent tread

By night her family she fed,

But look’d out sharply all the day,

Affecting terror and dismay.

The Eagle lest the tree should fall,

Keeps to the boughs, nor stirs at all;

And anxious for her grunting race,

The Sow is loth to quit her place.

In short, they and their young ones starve,

And leave a prey for Puss to carve.

Hence warn’d ye credulous and young,

Be cautious of a double tongue.

There is in town a certain set

Of mortals, ever in a sweat,

Who idly bustling here and there,

Have never any time to spare,

While upon nothing they discuss

With heat, and most outrageous fuss,

Plague to themselves, and to the rest

A most intolerable pest.

I will correct this stupid clan

Of busy-bodies, if I can,

By a true story; lend an ear,

’Tis worth a trifler’s time to hear.

Tiberius Cæsar, in his way

To Naples, on a certain day

Came to his own Misenian seat,

(Of old Lucullus’s retreat,)

Which from the mountain top surveys

Two seas, by looking different ways.

Here a shrewd slave began to cringe

With dapper coat and sash of fringe,

And, as his master walk’d between

The trees upon the tufted green,

Finding the weather very hot,

Officiates with his wat’ring-pot;

And still attending through the glade,

Is ostentatious of his aid.

Cæsar turns to another row,

Where neither sun nor rain could go;

He, for the nearest cut he knows,

Is still before with pot and rose.

Cæsar observes him twist and shift,

And understands the fellow’s drift;

“Here, you sir,” says th’ imperial lord.

The bustler, hoping a reward,

Runs skipping up. The chief in jest

Thus the poor jackanapes address’d

“As here is no great matter done,

Small is the premium you have won:

The cuffs that make a servant free,

Are for a better man than thee.”

No soul can warrant life or right,

Secure from men of lawless might;

But if a knave’s advice assist,

’Gainst fraud and force what can exist?

An Eagle on a Tortoise fell,

And mounting bore him by the shell:

She with her house her body screens,

Nor can be hurt by any means.

A Carrion Crow came by that way,

“You’ve got,” says she, “a luscious prey;

But soon its weight will make you rue,

Unless I show you what to do.”

The captor promising a share,

She bids her from the upper air

To dash the shell against a rock,

Which would be sever’d by the shock.

The Eagle follows her behest,

Then feasts on turtle with his guest.

Thus she, whom Nature made so strong,

And safe against external wrong,

No match for force, and its allies,

To cruel death a victim dies.

Two laden Mules were on the road—

A charge of money was bestowed

Upon the one, the other bore

Some sacks of barley. He before.

Proud of his freight, begun to swell,

Stretch’d out his neck, and shook his bell.

The poor one, with an easy pace,

Came on behind a little space,

When on a sudden, from the wood

A gang of thieves before them stood;

And, while the muleteers engage,

Wound the poor creature in their rage

Eager they seize the golden prize,

But the vile barley-bags despise.

The plunder’d mule was all forlorn,

The other thank’d them for their scorn:

“’Tis now my turn the head to toss,

Sustaining neither wound nor loss.”

The low estate’s from peril clear,

But wealthy men have much to fear.

A Stag unharbour’d by the hounds,

Forth from his woodland covert bounds,

And blind with terror, at th’ alarm

Of death, makes to a neighb’ring farm;

There snug conceals him in some straw,

Which in an ox’s stall he saw.

“Wretch that thou art!” a bullock cried,

“That com’st within this place to hide;

By trusting man you are undone,

And into sure destruction run.”

But he with suppliant voice replies:

“Do you but wink with both your eyes,

I soon shall my occasions shape,

To make from hence a fair escape.”

The day is spent, the night succeeds,

The herdsman comes, the cattle feeds,

But nothing sees—then to and fro

Time after time the servants go;

Yet not a soul perceives the case.

The steward passes by the place,

Himself no wiser than the rest.

The joyful Stag his thanks address’d

To all the Oxen, that he there

Had found a refuge in despair.

“We wish you well,” an Ox return’d,

“But for your life are still concern’d,

For if old Argus come, no doubt,

His hundred eyes will find you out.”

Scarce had the speaker made an end,

When from the supper of a friend

The master enters at the door,

And, seeing that the steers were poor

Of late, advances to the rack.

“Why were the fellow’s hands so slack?

Here’s hardly any straw at all,

Brush down those cobwebs from the wall.

Pray how much labour would it ask?”

While thus he undertakes the task,

To dust, and rummage by degrees,

The Stag’s exalted horns he sees:

Then calling all his folks around,

He lays him breathless on the ground.

The master, as the tale declares,

Looks sharpest to his own affairs.

A statue of great cost and fame

Th’ Athenians raised to Esop’s name,

Him setting on th’ eternal base,

Whom servile rank could not disgrace;

That they might teach to all mankind

The way to honor’s unconfined,

That glory’s due to rising worth,

And not alone to pomp and birth.

Since then another seized the post

Lest I priority should boast,

This pow’r and praise was yet my own,

That he should not excel alone:

Nor is this Envy’s jealous ire,

But Emulation’s genuine fire.

And if Rome should approve my piece,

She’ll soon have more to rival Greece.

But should th’ invidious town declare

Against my plodding over-care,

They cannot take away, nor hurt

Th’ internal conscience of desert.

If these my studies reach their aim,

And, reader, your attention claim,

If your perception fully weighs

The drift of these my labour’d lays;

Then such success precludes complaint.

But if the Picture which I paint

Should happen to attract their sight,

Whom luckless Nature brought to light,

Who scorn the labours of a man,

And when they carp do all they can;

Yet must this fatal cause to mourn

With all its bitterness be borne,

Till fortune be ashamed of days,

When genius fails, and int’rest sways.