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The Cock and the Doves.With Plumage varying in the Sun, Tom rais'd his Head, and thus begun : 66 Abusive Scorner ! falsely vain ! 6 Unmov’d, your Insult we sustain ; 66 Our mated Loves, endear'd by Truth, " Survive the transient Bloom of Youth: " Not with the Kiss our Pleasure ends; “ Not Lovers only— Doves are Friends.6. Thro’ Life, but one our mutual Aim, « Our Fears, Hopes, Wishes, all the same: 6 Unlov’d, unloving, wretched Bird ! With Female Rakes, a Rake

you herd.
" When stung by Jealousy or Rage,
« You bold and bloody Combat wage,
6. Of all your Train, will one stand by,
66 With panting Breast, and wishful Eye?'
“ You fall- another fills your Place;
6 Most welcome still the newest Face.”

As meet, her Place Tom's Female knew,
(In Turtles prudent Wives we view)
Silent she sat, with Rapture high,
Full on dear Tom was fix'd her Eye.
- Yet as he finish'd, 'tis confest,
She arch'd her Neck, and rear'd her Crest;
As proud to own the glorious Cause,
And clapt her Wings, and coo'd Applaufe. -

· Go! (cry'd the Cock) my Soul disdains • To make Reply! Go, hug your Chains !'

He scarce had ended, when behold, A Rival comes, as young, as bold !

His wanton Wish his Looks proclaim;
With answ'ring Looks the Females came :
His Wifh they crown'd, he crows aloud;
His Death the rival'd Boaster vow'd :
They fight, and dreadful Scenes ensue,
Their Females, unconcern'd, withdrew.
This dies ; our Hero, maim'd, survives,
The Scorn of all his twenty Wives.
Opprobrious, now, he hides his Head ;
None mourn the Wounded, nor the Dead.
New Rakes, new Loves, new Broils succeed,
They riot, envy, fight, and bleed.
With speechless Joy the Turtles glow'd,
Their Joys their meeting Glances show'd:
And bless’d the gracious Pow'r above,
That each at first was form'd a Dove.

Let others take from Cocks their Cue,
And range wide Nature's Common thro';
By Doves instructed, you and I,
Each with his one can live and die.

The HERMIT.

A T A L E.

By Mr. PARNELL.
AR in a Wild, unknown to public View,
From Youth to Age, a rev'rend Hermit

grew :

The

The Moss his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell, His Food the Fruits, his Drink the crystal

Well : Remote from Man, with God he pass’d the

Days, Pray'r all his Bus'nefs, all his Pleasure Praise.

A Life fo facred, such serene Repose, Seem'd Heav'n itself, 'till one Suggestion rose; That Vice should triumph, Virtue Vice obey, This sprung fome Doubt of Providence's Sway: His Hopes no more a certain Prospect boast, And all the Tenor of his Soul is loft : So when a smooth Expanse receives impreft Calm Nature's Image on its wat ry Breast, Down bend the Banks, the Trees depending

grow, And Skies beneath with answ'ring Colours glow. But if a Stone the gentle Sea divide, Swift ruffling Circles curl on ev'ry Side ; And glimm’ring Fragments of a broken Sun, Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Disorder

run.

To clear this Doubt, to know the World

by Sight, To find if Books or Swains report it right; (For yet by Swains alone the World he knew, Whofe Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly

Dew) He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-Staff he bore, And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before ;

Then

Then with the Sun a rising Journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each Event. The Morn was wafted in the pathless

Grass, And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass; But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the

Day, A Youth came posting o'er a crossing Way ; His Raiment decent, his Complexion fair, And soft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair. Then near approaching, Father, hail ! he

cry'd ; And hail, my Son! the rev'rend Sire reply'd : Words follow'd Words, from Question Answer

flow'd, And Talk of various Kind deceiv'd the Road; 'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part, While in their Age they differ, join in Heart: Thus stands an aged Elm in Ivy bound, Thus youthful Ivy clasps an Elm around. Now funk the Sun ; the closing Hour of

Day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober Grey; Nature in Silence bid the World repose; When near the Road a stately Palace rose : There, by the Moon, thro' Ranks of Trees

they pass, Whose Verdure crown'd their sloping Sides of

Grass.

It

It chanc'd, the noble Master of the Dome Still made his House the wand'ring Stranger's

Home : Yet still the Kindness, from a Thirst of Praise, Prov'd the vain Flourish of expensive Eafe. The Pair arrive; the liv'ry'd Servants wait; Their Lord receives them at the pompous

Gate. The Table groans with costly Piles of Food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then led to Rest, the Day's long Toil they

drown, Deep sunk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of

Down. At length 'tis Morn, and, at the Dawn of

Day, Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs play ; Fresh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep, And shake the neighb’ring Wood to banish

Sleep. Up rise the Guests, obedient to the Call, An early Banquet deck'd the splendid Hall; Rich luscious Wine a golden Goblet grac'd, Which the kind Master forc'd the Guests to

taste. Then pleas'd and thankful, from the Porch'

they go; And, but the Landlord, none had Cause of

Woe :

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