Others our Hind of folly will indite, To entertain a dangerous guest by night. Let those remember, that she cannot die 'Till rolling time is loft in round eternity; Nor need fhe fear the Panther, tho 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 senate met, Mean-while fhe quench'd her fury at the flood, And with a lenten fallad cool'd her blood. Their commons, tho but coarfe, were nothing fcant, 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 honors of her houfe fo well,

No sharp debates disturb'd the friendly meal.
'She turn'd the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers paft, a fadly-pleafing theme;
Remembring 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:

Her loft esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Herfaith unfhaken to an exil'd heir,

Her ftrength to endure, her courage to defy;
Her choice of honorable infamy.

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

Is made more facred by adverfity.

Now should 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 profess'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 speech 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 Cæfar's due. I might, she added, with like praise describe 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 bafk in your great patron's day.

This heard, the matron was not flow to find What sort of malady had seiz'd her mind : Difdain, with gnawing envy, fell despight, And canker'd malice stood in open fight: Ambition, intereft, pride without controul, And jealoufy, the jaundice of the foul; Revenge, the bloody minister of ill, With all the lean tormentors of the will. "Twas eafy now to guess 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 she not too deeply probe the wound, As hoping ftill the nobler parts were found: But ftrove with anodynes to affwage the fmart, And mildly thus her med'cine 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 juftly bold. But much more juft your jealoufy would fhew, If other's good were injury to you :

Witness, ye heavens, how I rejoice to e
Rewarded worth and rifing loyalty.

Your warrior offspring that upheld the crown,
The scarlet honor 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 prosperous gale,
My heaving wishes help to fill the fail;

And if my prayers for all the brave were heard, Cæfar fhould ftill have fuch, and fuch should still reward.

The labor'd earth your pains have fow'd and

till'd;

"Tis juft you reap the product of the field:
Your's be the harveft, '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 fpare,

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?

you

Our mite decreases nothing of your ftore.
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 caufe.

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 uppermost, will do. When at the fountain's head, as merit ought To claim the place, you take a fwilling draught, How eafy 'tis an envious eye to throw, And tax the sheep for troubling ftreams below; Or call her (when no farther caufe

you find) An enemy profefs'd of all your kind.

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

This laft allufion gall'd the Panther more,

Because indeed it rubb'd upon the fore.

Yet feem'd fhe not to winch, tho fhrewdly 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.