Swiftly he made his way, the mischief done,
Of all unheeded, and purfu'd by none.

Alas, what ftay is there in human state,
Or who can fhun inevitable fate?

The doom was written, the decree was past,
Ere the foundations of the world were caft!
In Aries though the fun exalted stood,
His patron-planet to procure his good;
Yet Saturn was his mortal foe, and he,
In Libra rais'd, oppos'd the fame degree:
The rays both good and bad, of equal pow'r,
Each thwarting other made a mingled hour.

On friday-morn he dreamt this direful dream,
Crofs to the worthy native, in his scheme!
Ah blissful Venus, Goddefs of delight,
How cou'dft thou fuffer thy devoted knight,
On thy own, day to fall by foe opprefs'd,
The wight of all the world who serv'd thee best?
Who true to love, was all for recreation,
And minded not the work of propagation.
Gaufride, who cou'dft fo well in rhime complain
'The death of Richard with an arrow flain,
Why had not I thy mufe, or thou my heart,
To fing this heavy dirge with equal art!
That I like thee on Friday might complain;
For on that day was Cœur de Lion flain.

Not louder cries, when Ilium was in flames,
Were sent to heav'n by woeful Trojan dames,
When Pyrrhus tofs'd on high his burnifh'd blade,
And offer'd Priam to his father's fhade,
Than for the cock the widow'd poultry made.
Fair Partlet first, when he was born from fight,
With fovereign shrieks bewail'd her captive knight:
Far louder than the Carthaginian wife,

When Afdrubal her husband loft his life,
When the beheld the fmouldring flames afcend,
And all the Punic glories at an end:

}

Willing into the fires fhe plung'd her head,
With greater ease than others feek their bed.
Not more aghaft the matrons of renown,
When tyrant Nero burn'd th' imperial town,
Shriek'd for the downfal in a doleful cry,

For which their guiltless lords were doom'd to die.
Now to my ftory I return again:

The trembling widow, and her daughters twain,
This woful cackling cry with horror heard,
Of those distracted damfels in the yard;
And ftarting up beheld the heavy fight,
How Reynard to the forest took his flight,
And cross his back, as in triumphant fcorn,
The hope and pillar of the house was borne.

The fox, the wicked fox, was all the cry;
Out from his house ran ev'ry neighbour nigh:
The vicar firft, and after him the crew,
With forks and staves the felon to pursue.
Ran Coll our dog, and Talbot with the band,
And Malkin, with her diftaff in her hand:
Ran cow and calf, and family of hogs,
In panic horror of purfuing dogs;

With many a deadly grunt and doleful fqueak,
Poor swine, as if their pretty hearts would break.
The shouts of men, the women in dismay,
With fhrieks augment the terror of the day.
The ducks that heard the proclamation cry'd,
And fear'd a perfecution might betide,
Full twenty mile from town their voyage take,
Obfcure in rushes of the liquid lake.
The geefe fly o'er the barn; the bees in arms
Drive headlong from their waxen cells in fwarms.
Jack Straw at London-ftone, with all his reut,
Struck not the city with fo loud a fhout;
Not when with English hate they did purfue
A French man, or an unbelieving Jew:

H 2

Not

Not when the welkin rung with one and all;

And echoes bounded back from Fox's hall:

Earth feem'd to fink beneath, and heaven above to fall.
With might and main they chac'd the murd’rous fox,
With brazen trumpets, and inflated box,
To kindle Mars with military founds,

Nor wanted horns t'infpire fagacious hounds.

But fee how Fortune can confound the wife,
And when they least expect it, turn the dice.
The captive-cock, who fcarce cou'd draw his breath,
And lay within the very jaws of death;
Yet in this agony his fancy wrought,

And fear fupply'd him with this happy thought:
Yours is the prize, victorious prince, faid he,
The vicar my defeat, and all the village fee.
Enjoy your friendly fortune while you may,
And bid the churls that envy you the prey
Call back their mungril curs, and cease their cry,
See fools, the shelter of the wood is nigh,
And Chanticleer in your despite shall die,
He shall be pluck'd and eaten to the bone.
'Tis well advis'd, in faith it shall be done;
This Reynard faid: but as the word he spoke,
The pris'ner with a fpring from prison broke:
Then stretch'd his feather'd fans with all his might,
And to the neighb'ring maple wing'd his flight;
Whom when the traitor safe on tree beheld,

He curs'd the Gods, with fhame and forrow fill'd;
Shame for his folly, forrow out of time,
For plotting an unprofitable crime;
Yet maft'ring both, th' artificer of lies
Renews th' affault, and his last batt'ry tries.
Tho' I, faid he, did ne'er in thought offend,
How justly may my lord fufpect his friend?"
Th' appearance is againft me, I confefs,
Who feemingly have put you in diftress:

}

You,

You, if your goodness does not plead my cause,
May think I broke all hofpitable laws,
To bear you from your palace-yard by might,
And put your noble perfon in a fright:
This, fince you take it ill, I must repent,
Tho' Heav'n can witnefs with no bad intent:
I practis'd it, to make you tafte your cheer
With double pleasure, first prepar'd by fear.
So loyal fubjects often feize their prince,
Forc'd (for his good) to feeming violence,
Yet mean his facred perfon not the leaft offence.
Defcend; fo help me Jove as you shall find
That Reynard comes of no diffembling kind,
Nay quoth the cock; but I befhrew us both,
If I believe a faint upon his oath:

An honeft man may take a knave's advice,
But idiots only may be cozen'd twice:
Once warn'd is well bewar'd; not flatt'ring lies
Shall footh me more to fing with winking eyes,
And open mouth, for fear of catching flies.
Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim,
When he should fee, has he deferv'd to fwim?
Better, Sir cock, let all contention cease,
Come down, faid Reynard, let us treat of peace.
A peace with all my foul, faid Chanticleer;
But, with your favour, I will treat it here:
And left the truce with treafon fhould be mixt,
'Tis my concern to have the tree betwixt.

The MORA L.

In this plain fable you th' effect may fee
Of negligence, and fond credulity:
And learn befides of flatt'rers to beware,

Then moft pernicious when they speak too fair.

H 3

}

}

The

The cock and fox, the fool and knave imply;
The truth is moral, tho' the tale a lye.
Who spoke in parables, I dare not say;
But fure he knew it was a pleafing way,
Sound fenfe, by plain example, to convey.
And in a heathen author we may find,
That pleasure with inftruction fhou'd be join'd;
So take the corn, and leave the chaff behind.

THE