Moral and political fables, ancient and modern done into measured prose intermixed with ryme by Dr. Walter Pope.

FAB. CV. The Hart and Horse.

In the First Book of Horaces Epistles, and the Tenth Epistle, the Fable of the HART and HORSE is thus express'd.

CERVUS equum pugna melior communibus herbis Pellebat, done•• minor in certamine longo Imploravit opes hominis, frenumque recepit: Sed post quam victor violens discessit ab hoste, Non equitem dorso, non frenum depulit ore, Sic, qui pauperiem veritus, potio••e metallis Libertate caret, dominum vehit improbus, atque Serviet aeternum: quia parvo nesciet uti.

FAB. CVI. A Parafrase of the same.

AHart happend to quarrel with a Horse, And beat him out o'th' Pasture by main force. Who not being able to endure th' Affront, Retird to th' Woods, and resolvd there to stay, Till he had found a sure, and speedy way To cancel his Disgrace, by sweet Revenge. At last, he fixd upon a strange Resolve. In suppliant posture to crave aid of Man, Of Man, whom hitherto he had defied, And never sufferd on his Back to ride, Of whom, he had been jealous all his life, Keeping himself untouchd, unbackd, untamd. To him he goes, and his sad Story tells, I'll be at your disposal, Sir, said he, If you'll avenge me of mine Enemy. The Man had often seen this stately Beast Wantonly galloping about the Fields, And much admird his Strength, Spirit, and Shape; Often employd both Stratagems, and Force, To get him into's power, but all in vain, And now on that design he thought no more, But as impossible, had given it ore. Wondring to see him, on his own accord Render himself, his proffer he accepts, With joy, and promises to do him right.

Then did the Horse, with patience admit The Saddle, Holsters, Pistols, Bridle, Bitt, And the armd Champion too, Booted, and Spurrd. His Soul was so intent upon Revenge, He did not feel the heavy Load he bore, Tho' never any prest his Back before. With winged speed, his Rider he conducts To his Foes Haunt, at this unwelcome Sight, The affrighted Hart betakes himself to flight, But being Fat, and Pursy, was soon tir'd, And by the Horsemans Spear, pierc'd thro' the side; The warm blood gushing from his gaping wound, With Tyrian Purple died the Verdant ground. The Horse rejoycd to see his Enemy dead, And in's return, thus to the Conqueror spoke; You have repaird my Honour, slain my Foe, Pray Sir, accept my Thanks, and let me go. The Man replyd, that Bargain's yet to make, Since I have servd your Turn, you must serve mine. I am your Master now, which said, he gave Srict orders to his Groom, to keep him safe. Whilst he was Young, he many Races won, Afterwards, hunted Fox, and Hare; being Old, He Plowd, and Harrowd, carried Grist to th' Mill, And Lime, and stinking Dung to th' Fallow Field, Did all the Drudgery of the House, fed ill, Being no more regarded than an Ass, And when he had finishd his laborious Life, Was at last, carried in a Cart to's Grave. He had's Revenge, but livd, and died a Slave.

The MORAL.

Who lose their Liberty, and win Revenge▪ Make a bad Bargain, and buy Gold too dear.

Another.

May they, who t' enslave England are inclind, No better Usage, from their Rider, find.