He spells them true by intuition's light, This truth premis'd was needful as a text, Awhile they mus'd; furveying ev'ry face, Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths; Should deem it by our old companion made, Him answer'd then his loving mate and true, But more difcreet than he, a Cambrian ewe. How? leap into the pit our life to fave? To fave our life leap all into the grave? For can we find it lefs? Contemplate first The depth how awful! falling there, we burst; Or should the brambles, interpos'd, our fall In part abate, that happiness were small; For with a race like theirs no chance I fee Of peace or eafe to creatures clad as we. Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dapple's bray, Or be it not, or be it whofe it may, And rush thofe other founds, that feem by tongues Of dæmons utter'd, from whatever lungs, Sounds are but founds, and till the cause appear We have at leaft commodious ftanding here. Come, fiend, come, fury, giant, monfter, blaft By panting dog, tir'd man, and spatter'd horse, So fweet to huntfman, gentleman, and hound. MORAL Beware of deíp❜rate fteps. The darkest day (Live till to-morrow) will have pass'd away. THE DOG AND THE WATER-LILY. NO FABLE. THE noon was fhady, and foft airs Swept Oufe's filent tide, When, fcap'd from literary cares, I wander'd on his fide. My spaniel, prettiest of his race, And high in pedigree, (Two nymphs *, adorn'd with ev'ry grace, That spaniel found for me) Now wanton'd loft in flags and reeds, Now starting into fight Purfued the swallow o'er the meads With scarce a flower flight. It was the time when Ouse display'd Their beauties I intent furvey'd, And one I wish'd my own. * Sir Robert Gunning's daughters. With cane extended far I fought To fteer it clofe to land; But ftill the prize, though nearly caught, Escap'd my eager hand. Beau mark'd my unfuccefsful pains With fixt confid'rate face, And puzzling fat his puppy brains To comprehend the cafe. But with a chirrup clear and ftrong, I thence withdrew, and follow'd long My ramble finish'd, I return'd. Beau trotting far before The floating wreath again difcern'd, I faw him with that lily cropp'd My quick approach, and foon he dropp'd The treasure at my feet. |