With croaking had your tongue out-thundered,
Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,
And you, good Woman, saved your eggs."

THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.

In other men we faults can spy,

And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little speck and blemish find,
To our own stronger errors blind.

A Turkey, tired of common food,

Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;

Behind her ran an infant train,

Collecting here and there a grain.

"Draw near, my Birds! (the mother cries) This hill delicious fare supplies;

Behold the busy negro race,

See millions blacken all the place!
Fear not; like me with freedom eat;
An Ant is most delightful meat.
How blessed, how envied, were our life,
Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, cursed man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days.
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the savory chine;
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes on every board.
Sure men for gluttony are cursed,
Of the seven deadly sins the worst."

An Ant, who climbed beyond his reach, Thus answered from the neighb'ring beech: "Ere you remark another's sin,

Bid thine own conscience look within;

Control thy more voracious bill,

Nor for a breakfast nations kill."

THE GARDENER AND THE HOG.

A gardener of peculiar taste,
On a young Hog his favor placed,
Who fed not with the common herd;
His tray was to the hall preferred:
He wallowed underneath the board,
Or in his master's chamber snored,
Who fondly stroked him every day,

And taught him all the puppy's play.
Where'er he went, the grunting friend
Ne'er failed his pleasure to attend.

As on a time the loving pair
Walked forth to tend the garden's care,
The Master thus addressed the Swine:-
:-
"My house, my garden, all is thine.
On turnips feast whene'er you please,
And riot in my beans and pease,
If the potato's taste delights,
Or the red carrot's sweet invites,
Indulge thy morn and evening hours,
But let due care regard my flowers:
My tulips are my garden's pride:
What vast expense those beds supplied!"

The Hog by chance one morning roamed,
Where with new ale the vessels foamed;
He munches now the steaming grains,
Now with full swill the liquor drains.
Intoxicating fumes arise;

He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;

Then staggering through the garden scours,
And treads down painted ranks of flowers:
With delving snout he turns the soil,
And cools his palate with the spoil.

The Master came, the ruin spied;
"Villain! suspend thy rage, (he cried)
Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot,
My charge, my only charge, forgot?
What, all my flowers!" no more he said,
But gazed, and sighed, and hung his head.

The Hog with fluttering speech returns:-
"Explain, Sir, why your anger burns.
See there, untouched, your tulips strown;
For I devoured the roots alone."

At this the Gardener's passion grows;
From oaths and threats he falls to blows:
The stubborn brute the blow sustains,
Assaults his leg, and tears the veins.

Ah! foolish Swain! too late you find
That sties were for such friends designed!
Homeward he limps with painful pace,
Reflecting thus on past disgrace;
"Who cherishes a brutal mate,
Shall mourn the folly soon or late."

SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED

SUSAN.

BY JOHN GAY.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moored,

The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard:

"Oh! where shall I my true love find!
Tell me, ye jovial sailors! tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew.”

William, who high upon the yard

Rocked with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,

He sighed, and cast his eyes below:

The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,

Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

"O Susan! Susan! lovely dear,

My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;

We only part to meet again.

Change as ye list, ye winds! my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

"Believe not what the landmen say,

Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind;
They'll tell thee sailors, when away,

In every port a mistress find:

Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

"If to far India's coast we sail,

Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,

Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,

Thy skin is ivory, so white:

Thus every beauteous object that I view,

Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

"Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return:

Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye."

The boatswain gave the dreadful word:

The sails their swelling bosom spread; No longer must she stay aboard:

They kissed; she sighed; he hung his head: Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land: "Adieu!" she cries, and waved her lily hand.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

BY ALEXANDER POPE.

[For biographical sketch, see page 373.]

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood:

Who all my sense confined

To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,

To see the good from ill;

And binding Nature fast in Fate,
Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun,

That, more than heaven pursue.