reader with one, delivered by the first founder of | mythology, Æsop himself. Maximus Planudes takes notice of it, as a very excellent part of his production; and Phædrus, Camerarius, and others, seem to agree, that his Eagle, and five others not yet translated, are equal to any of his that are handed down to us. Though Mr. Ogleby and sir Roger L'Estrange had the unhappiness to be unacquainted with them, yet I had the good fortune to discover them by the removal of my old library, which has made me amends for the trouble of getting to where I now teach. They were written, or dictated at least, by sop, in the fifty-fourth Olympiad and though I designed them chiefly for the use of my school, (this being translated by a youth designed for a Greek professor) yet no man is so wise as not to need instruction, aye, and by the way of fable too; since the holy scriptures themselves, the best instructors, teach us by way of parable, symbol, image, and figure; and David was more moved with Nathan's "Thou art the man," than all the most rigid lectures in the world would have done. Whoever will be at the trouble of comparing this version with the original, let them begin at the tenth line, and they will find it metaphrastically done, verbum verbo, as the best way of justice to the author. Those that are mere adorers of no λóyos will not be angry that it is in this sort of metre, for which I gave leave, the lad having a turn to this sort of measure, which is pleasant and agreeable, though not lofty. For my own part, I concur with my master Aristotle, that ρυθμὸς καὶ ἁρμονία are very far from being unneces sary or unpleasant. May this be of use to thee; and it will please thine in all good wishes.

HORAT. GRAM.

THE EAGLE AND THE ROBIN.

A LADY liv'd in former days,
That well deserv'd the utmost praise;
For greatness, birth, and justice fam'd,
And every virtue could be nam'd;
Which made her course of life so even,
That she's a saint (if dead) in Heaven,
This lady had a little seat
Just like a palace, 'twas so neat,
From aught (but goodness) her retreat.
One morning, in her giving way,
As was her custom every day,

To cheer the poor, the sick, and cold,
Or with apparel, food, or gold,
There came a gazing stranger by,
On whom she quickly cast an eye.

The man, admiring, made a stand;
.He had a bird upon his hand:

"What's that," says she, "that hangs its head, Sinking and faint? 'Tis almost dead." "Madam, a red-breast that I found, By this wet season almost drown'd." "Oh! bring him in, and keep him warm; Robins do never any harm."

ing the reader to recollect the change which she made in her ministry in 1709, the year in which this poem was written; and referring to Rufinus.

N.

They soon obey'd, and chopt him meat,
Gave him whatever he would eat;
The lady care herself did take,
And made a nest for Robin's sake:
But he perkt up into her chair,
In which he plenteously did fare,
Assuming quite another air.

The neighbours thought, when this they spy'd,
The world well mended on his side.

With well-tun'd throat he whistled long, And every body lik'd his song.

"At last," said they, "this little thing
Will kill itself, so long to sing?
We'll closet him among the rest
Of those my lady loves the best."
They little thought, that saw him come,
That Robins were so quarrelsome:
The door they open'd, in he pops,
And to the highest perch he hops;
The party-colour'd birds he chose,
The gold-finches, and such as those;
With them he'd peck, and bill, and feed,
And very well (at times) agreed:
Canary-birds were his delight,
With them he'd téte-à-tête all night;
But the brown linnets went to pot,
He kill'd them all upon the spot.

The servants were employ'd each day,
Instead of work, to part some fray,
And wish'd the aukward fellow curst
That brought him to my lady first.
At last they all resolv'd upon't,
Some way to tell my lady on't.

Meanwhile he'ad had a noble swing,
And rul'd just like the Gallic king;
Having kill'd or wounded all,
Unless the Eagle in the hall;
With whom he durst but only jar,
He being the very soul of war,
But hated him for his desert,
And bore him malice at his heart.

This Eagle was my lady's pride,
The guardian safety of her side:
He often brought home foreign prey,
Which humbly at her feet he lay.
For colour, pinions, and stature,
The fairest workmanship of Nature;
'Twould do one good to see him move,
So full of grandeur, grace, and love:
He was indeed a bird for Jove.
He soar'd aloft in Brucum's field,
And thousand kites and vultures kill'd;
Which made him dear to all that flew,
Unless to Robin and his crew.

One day poor Bob, puff'd up with pride, Thinking the combat to abide,

A goose-quill on for weapon ty'd,
Knowing by use, that, now and then,
A sword less hurt does than a pen.

As for example-What at home
You've well contriv'd to do at Rome,
A pen blows up-before you come.
You are suppos'd to undermine
The foe-in some immense design.
A pen can bite you with a line;
There's forty ways to give a sign.
Well-all on fire away he stalk'd,
Till come to where the Eagle walk'd.
Bob did not shill-I shall-I go,
Nor said one word of friend or foe;

But flirting at him made a blow,
As game-cocks with their gauntlets do.
At which the eagle gracefully
Cast a disdaining, sparkling eye;
As who should say-What's this, a fly?
But no revenge at all did take,
He spar'd him for their lady's sake,
Who ponder'd these things in her mind,
And took the conduct of the eagle kind.
Upon reflection now-to show
What harm the least of things may do,
Mad Robin, with his cursed flirt,
One of the eagle's eyes had hurt;
Inflam'd it, made it red and sore:
But the affront inflam'd it more.
Oh, how the family did tear!

To fire the house, could scarce forbear:
With scoru, not pain, the eagle fir'd,
Murmur'd disdain, and so retir'd.
Robin, to offer some relief,

In words like these would heal their grief:
"Should th' Eagle die (which Heaven
forbid !)

We ought some other to provide.

I do not say that any now

Are fit, but in a year or two:

And should this mighty warrior fall,
They should not want a general."

As men have long observ'd, that one
Misfortune seldom comes alone;
Just in the moment this was done,
Ten thousand foes in sight were come:
Vultures, and kites, and birds of prey,
In flocks so thick-they darken'd day.
A long-concerted force and strong,
Vermin of all kinds made the throng;
Foxes were in the faction join'd,
Who waited their approach to ground.

By every hand, from common fame,
The frightful face of danger came.
One cries, "What help now-who can tell?
I'm glad the Eagle's here, and well!"
Another out of breath with fear,
Says, "Thousands more near sea appear;
They'll swop our chicken from the door;
We never were so set before:
We're glad the Eagle will forget,
And the invaders kill or beat."

Reserv'd and great, his noble mind,
Above all pretty things inclin'd,
Abhorr'd the thoughts of any thing,
But what his lady's peace could bring:
Who bless'd him first, and bade him do
As he was wont, and beat the foe.

Burning and restless as the Sun,
Until this willing work was done;
He whets his talons, stretch'd his wings,
His lightning darts, and terrour flings;
Towers with a flight into the sky,
These million monsters to descry,
Prepar'd to conquer, or to die.

The party, that so far was come,

Thought not the eagle was at home:
To fame and danger us'd in field,
They knew he'd quickly make them yield:
But, on assurance he was near,
Incumber'd, faint, and dead with fear,

3 Oplau, amongst the Greeks, signifies "Honour as tender as the eye." KING.

They made with hurry towards the lakes;
And he his pinions o'er them shakes.
They had not (with such horrour fill'd)
The courage to let one be kill'd:
They fled, and left no foe behind,
Unless it were the fleeting wind:
Only a man by water took
Two fine young merlins and a rook.
The family had now repose:
But with the Sun the Eagle rose;
Th' imperial bird pursu'd the foe,
More toil than rest inur'd to know.
He wing'd his way to Latian land,
Where first was hatch'd this murdering band;
He darted death where'er he came,
Some of them dying at his name.

Their mighty foe-a fatal pledge,
Their bowels tore through every hedge:
They flutter, shriek, and caw, and hiss,
Their strength decays, and fears increase :
But most the chevaliers the geese.

So many slaughter'd fowl there was,
Their carcases block'd-up the ways;
The rest he drove, half spent, pell-mell,
Quite to the walls of Pontifell.

Robin at home, though mad to hear
He should so conquer every where,
Expostulated thus with fear:
"Ungrateful I, that so have stirr'd
Against this generous, noble bird,
Wast thou not first by him preferr'd?"
Let's leave him in his gall to burn,
And back to Pontifell return.

There some to chimney-tops aspire,
To turrets some that could fly higher;
Some 'bove a hundred miles were gone,
To roost them at Byzantium.
Alas! in vain was their pretence,
He broke through all their strong defence:
Down went their fences, wires, and all;
Perches and birds together fall.

None hop'd his power to withstand,
But gave the nest to his command:
They told him of ten thousand more,
In flocks along the Ganges' shore,
Safe in their furrows, free from trouble,
Like partridges among the stubble.
He spreads himself, and cuts the air,
And steady flight soon brought him there,
Lord, how deceiv'd and vex'd he was!
To find they were but meer jackdaws.
A hundred thousand all in light,
They all could chatter, not one fight.
"I'll deal by them as is their due:
Shough!" cry'd the cagle; off they flew.
His flashing eye their hearts confounds,
Though by their flight secure from wounds,
Which was a signal, fatal baulk
To a late swift Italian hawk.

The Eagle would no rest afford,
Till he had sent my lady word;
Who when she heard the dear surprise,
Wonder and joy stood in her eyes.

"My faithful Eagle, hast thou then
My mortal foes destroy'd again?
Return, return, and on me wait;
Be thou the guardian of my gate;
Thee and thy friends are worth my care,
Thy foes (if any such there are)
Shall my avenging anger share."

So-lest new ills should intervene, She turn'd the Robin out again.

The Samians now, in vast delight, Bless the good lady day and night; Wish that her life might ne'er be done, But everlasting as the Sun. The Eagle high again did soar; The lady was disturb'd no more, But all things flourish'd as before.

ROBIN RED BREAST, WITH THE BEASTS, AN OLD CAT'S PROPHECY;

Taken out of an old copy of verses supposed to be written by John Lidgate, a monk of Bury.

ONE that had in her infant state,
While playing at her father's gate,
Seen and was most hugely smitten
With young dog and dirty kitten,
Had took them up and lug'd them in,
And made the servants wash them clean'.
When she to a fit age was grown,
To be sole mistress of her own,
Then to her favour and strange trust
She rais'd these two; in rank the first
The dog: who, with gilt collar grac'd,
Strutted about. The cat was plac'd
O'er all the house to domineer,
And kept each wight of her in fear;
While he o'er all the plains had power,
That savage wolves might not devour
Her flocks. She gave him charge great care
To take: but beasts uncertain are!

Now see by these what troubles rise
To those who in their choice unwise
Put trust in such; for he soon join'd
With beast of prey the dog combin'd,
Who kill'd the sheep, and tore the hind;
While he would stand, and grin, and bark,
Concealing thus his dealings dark.
A wolf, or so, sometimes he'd take,
And then, O what a noise he'd make!
But with wild-beasts o'er-run yet are
The plains: some die for want of fare,
Or torn, or kill'd; the shepherds find
Each day are lost of every kind.

Thy silly sheep lament in vain ;
Of their hard fate, not him, complain.
The shepherds, and the servants all,
Against the traitor loudly bawl:

But there was none that dar'd to tell
Their lady what to them befel;
For puss a fox of wondrous art
Brought-in, to help, and take their part,
By whose assistance to deceive,
She made her every lye believe.

One lucky day, when she was walking
In her woods, with servants talking,
And stopp'd to hear how very well
A red-breast sung, then him to dwell
With her she call'd: he came, and took
His place next to a favourite rook;

I The political drift of this intended prophecy is still more evident than that of the preceding poem; the satire being abundantly more personal. N.

Where Robin soon began to sing
Such songs as made the house to ring;
He sung the loss and death of sheep,
In notes that made the lady weep:
How for his charge the dog unfit,
Took part with foes, and shepherds bit;
Ev'n from his birth he did him trace,
And show him cur of shabby race;
The first by wandering beggars fed,
His sire, advanc'd, turn'd spit for bread;
Himself each trust had still abus'd;
To steal what he should guard, was us'd
From puppy: known where-e'er he came
Both vile and base, and void of shame.

The cat he sung, that none could match
For venom'd spite, or cruel scratch;
That from a witch transform'd she came,
Who kitten'd three of equal fame :
This first, one dead, of tabby fur
The third survives, much noise of her
Had been a cat well known, with ease
On errands dark, o'er land and seas,
She'd journies take to cub of bear,
From these intriguing beasts, who swear
They'll bring him to defend the wrong
That they have done. Again he sung,
How tabby once, in moon-light night,
Trotted with letter fox did write;

In which he sends his best respects
To the she-bear, and thus directs:

Madam," said he, "your cub safe send,
None shall his worship soon offend ;`
It's all I can at present do

To serve him, as his friends well know."

At this the beasts grew in such rage,
That none their fury could assuage;
Nay, puss her lady would have scratch'd,
And tore her eyes, but she was watch'd;
For she'd set up her back, and mew,
And thrice ev'n in her face she flew.
The dog, like an ungrateful spark,
At her would dare to snarl and bark.
Her tenants wondering stood to hear
That she their insolence would bear;
And offer'd their assistance to
Soon make them better manners know:
But she, to avoid all farther rout,
Her window opening, turn'd Bob out;
Hoping that then her beasts would live
In peace, and no disturbance give.

Yet nothing she can do avails,
Their rage against her still prevails;
Though puss was warn'd to fear their fate
In lines (by old prophetic cat
Writ before her transformation,
When she was in the witch's station)
Foretelling thus: "When beasts are grown
To certain heights, before unknown
Of human race, some shall aloud
Inflame and arm a dreadful crowd,
Who in vast numbers shall advance,
And to new tunes shall make them dance:
When this begins, no longer hope,
For all remains is axe and rope."

But, not deterr'd by this, they dar'd,
With some who of their plunder shar'd,
T'affront their lady, and conspire
To many with her money hire;
Contemning her, to pay undue
Regards unto this bestial crew:

Thongh these resembled human shapes,
They were indeed no more than apes;
Who some in house, and some in wood,
And others in high boxes stood,

That chattering made such noise and stir,
How all was due to fox and cur;
Till, by their false deluding way,
She found her flocks begin to stray.
Still Robin does for her his care
And zeal express; on whom yet are
His thoughts all fix'd. On her he dreams
Each night. Her praises are his themes
In songs all day. Now perch'd on tree,
Finding himself secure aud free,
He pertly shakes his little wings,
Sets his throat: again he sings,
up
"That she had left no other way
To save her flocks, and end this fray,
But soon to her assistance take

One who could make these monsters shake;
A well-known huntsman, who has skill
The fiercest beasts to tame or kill:
At her command he'd come, and he
Would make her great, and set them free;
That, should these beasts some evil day
Bring cub into her grounds, she may
Depend that not herself they'll spare,
Since to insult her now they dare:
All she at best can hope for then,
Is to be safe shut up in den;
Since by sure signs all these ingrate
Are known to bear her deadly hate."

He ends his song, and prays to Heaven
That she may have the wisdom given,
Before it be too late, to take
Such resolutions as may make

Her safe, and that these beasts no more
To ravage in the plains have power.

BRITAIN'S PALLADIUM;

OR,

Then Neptune his majestic silence broke, And to the trembling sailors mildly spoke: "Throughout the world Britannia's flag display; 'Tis my command, that all the globe obey; Let British streamers wave their heads on high, And dread no foe beneath Jove's azure sky; The rest let Nereus tell

"If I have truth," says Nereus," and foresee The intricate designs of Destiny;

I, that have view'd whatever fleets have rode
With sharpen'd keels to cut the yielding flood;
I, that could weigh the fates of Greece and Rome,
Phoenician wealth, and Carthaginian doom;
Must surely know what, in the womb of Time,
Was fore-ordain'd for Britain's happy clime;
How wars upon the watery realm shall cease,
And Anna give the world a glorious peace;
Restore the spicy traffic of the east,
And stretch her empire to the distant west:
Her fleets descry Aurora's purple bed,
And Phoebus' steeds after their labours fed.
The southern coasts, to Britain scarcely known,
Shall grow as hospitable as their own:

No monsters shall be feign'd, to guard their store,
When British trade secures their golden ore:
The fleecy product of the Cotswold field
Shall equal what Peruvian mountains yield:
Iron shall there intrinsic value show,

And by Vulcanian art more precious grow.
"Britannia's royal fishery shall be

Improv'd by a kind guardian deity:
That mighty task to Glaucus we assign,

FRANCE'.

Et thure, et fidibus juvat

Placare, et vituli sanguine debito Custodes Numidæ Deos.

Hor. lib. i. Od. xxxvi. ad Pomponium Numidam, ob cujus ex Hispaniâ ditum gaudio exultat.

WHAT noise is this, that interrupts my sleep?
What echoing shouts rise from the briny deep?
Neptune a solemn festival prepares,

And peace through all his flowing orb declares:
That dreadful trident which he us'd to shake,
Make Earth's foundations and Jove's palace quake,
Now, by his side, on ouzy couch reclin'd,
Gives a smooth surface and a gentle wind:
Innumerable Tritons lead the way,

And crowds of Nereids round his chariot play.

Lord Bolingbroke set out for France (accompanied by Mr. Hare, one of his under-secretaries, Mr. Prior, and the Abbé Gualtier) Aug. 2; and arrived again in London, Aug. 21, 1712. N.

Which to the mast shall canvas-wings afford; And pitch, to strengthen the unfaithful board; Norway may then her naval stores with-hold, And proudly starve for want of British gold.

"O happy isle! to such advantage plac'd, That all the world is by thy counsels grac'd; Thy nation's genius, with industrious arts, Renders thee lovely to remotest parts. Eliza first the sable scene withdrew, And to the ancient world display'd the new; When Burleigh at the helm of state was seen, The truest subject to the greatest queen; The Indians, from the Spanish yoke made free, Bless'd the effects of English liberty;

2 Annapolis, the capital of Nova Scotia.