And when of dulness wits complain,
I brace the nerves, and clear the brain.

"But to the 'squire here, I appealHe knows my real value well :

Who, with one pepper-corn content,
Remits the vassal's annual rent—

Hence then, Sir Brine, and keep your distance,

Go lend the scullion your assistance;

For culinary uses fit,

To salt the meat upon the spit;

Or just to keep our meat from stinking-
And then-a special friend to drinking!"

"Your folly moves me with surprise,"
The silver tripod thus replies,
"Pray, Master Pepper, why so hot?
First cousin to the mustard-pot!
What boots it how our life began ?
'Tis breeding makes the Gentleman;
Yet would you search my pedigree,
I rose like Venus from the sea :
The sun, whose influence you boast,
Nurs'd me upon the British coast.

"The chymists know my rank and place,

When nature's principles they trace:

And wisest moderns yield to me

The elemental monarchy.

By me all nature is supply'd

With all her beauty, all her pride!

In vegetation I ascend;

To animals their vigour lend;
Corruption's foe, I life preserve,

And stimulate each slacken'd nerve.

I give jonquils their high perfume;

The peach its flavour, rose its bloom :
Nay, I'm the cause, when rightly trac'd,
Of Pepper's aromatic taste.

"Such claims you teach me to produce; But need I plead my obvious use, In seasoning all terrestrial food; When Heaven declares, that Salt is good.

"Grant, then, some few thy virtues find; Yet Salt gives health to all mankind: Physicians sure will side with me, While cooks alone shall plead for thee: In short, with all thine airs about thee, The world were happier far without thee."

The 'squire, who all this time sat mute,
Now put an end to their dispute:
He rung the bell-bade Tom convey
The doughty disputants away—

The Salt, refresh'd by shaking up,
At night did with his master sup:
The Pepper, Tom assign'd his lot
With vinegar, and mustard-pot:
A fop with bites and sharpers join'd,
And, to the side-board, well confin'd.

THICK-TWISTED brake in the time of a

A Seemid kindly to cover a sheep:

[storm,

So snug, for a while, he lay shelter'd and warm,
It quietly sooth'd him asleep.

The clouds are now scatter'd-the winds are at peace,
The sheep's to his pasture inclin'd;

But ah! the fell thicket lays hold of his fleece,
His coat is left forfeit behind.

My friend, who the thicket of law never tried,
Consider before you get in;

Tho' judgment and sentence are pass'd on your side,
By Jove, you'll be fleec'd to your skin.

FABLE XXV.

The Blackbird and Bullfinch.

ERCH'D on a poplar's verdant spray,

PER Blackbird sung the hours away;

A

Charm'd all around, and seem'd to call
An echo from his Lordship's hall.
Confin'd in state a Bullfinch there,
The melting music chanc'd to hear-
Bursting with envy, silence broke,
And thus from gilded cage he spoke :-

Cease, bungler, thy discordant noise, Untun'd thy throat, and harsh thy voice; How dar'st thou, vagrant, as thou art, To me thy dissonance impart ? Know'st thou I sing by studied rules, And brag the learning of the schools? Soft rapture to the heart convey, And charm the list'ning soul away?

To please my Lord, and soothe his cares,

I warble soft Italian airs;

Which he in gratitude repays

With costly food, and gen'rous praise:
Whilst thou, condemn'd through air to rove,
Or hide thee in the gloomy grove,
To feebly suck thy beverage scant,
And pine in endless care and want;
To rocks and woods thy tale belongs,
Fit audience for thy stupid songs!
Away! no more my palace dun,
Or Dick, or Tom, shall fetch the gun."

He ceas'd-The fable bird returns
(With rising scorn his bosom burns),
"Thou little lordling, void of sense,
Dar'st thou, imperious, warn me hence?
Know, parasite, thy threats are nought,
Nor boast thy cage too dearly bought:
Above the frigid rules of art,
'Tis nature's dictates I impart ;
Nor ever prostitute my lays,

But grateful sing my Maker's praise;
Whilst echoing o'er the hills and plains,
I cheer the nymphs and lab'ring swains;
Whether the rising notes I swell,
Or lightly load the passing gale;
With bolder music fill the grove,
Or gently call my mate to love :
Whether the joys of summer sing,
Or chant the beauties of the spring;
The varied notes still new appear,
And sweet transition charms the ear: