III.

THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, AND THE FAIRY.

Give me a son! The blessing sent,
Were ever parents more content?
How partial are their doting eyes!
No child is half so fair and wise.
Waked to the morning's pleasing care,
The mother rose, and sought her heir.
She saw the nurse, like one possess'd,
With wringing hands, and sobbing breast.
'Sure some disaster hath befell:
Speak, nurse; I hope the boy is well.'
_10
'Dear madam, think not me to blame;
Invisible the fairy came:
Your precious babe is hence conveyed,
And in the place a changeling laid.
Where are the father's mouth and nose,
The mother's eyes, as black as sloes?
See here a shocking awkward creature,
That speaks a fool in every feature.'
'The woman's blind,' the mother cries;
'I see wit sparkle in his eyes.'
_20
'Lord! madam, what a squinting leer;
No doubt the fairy hath been here.'
Just as she spoke, a pigmy sprite
Pops through the key-hole, swift as light;
Perched on the cradle's top he stands,
And thus her folly reprimands:
'Whence sprung the vain conceited lie,
That we the world with fools supply?
What! give our sprightly race away,
For the dull helpless sons of clay!
_30
Besides, by partial fondness shown,
Like you we doat upon our own.
Where yet was ever found a mother,
Who'd give her booby for another?
And should we change for human breed,
Well might we pass for fools indeed.'

* * * * *

FABLE IV.

THE EAGLE, AND THE ASSEMBLY OF ANIMALS.

As Jupiter's all-seeing eye
Surveyed the worlds beneath the sky,
From this small speck of earth were sent,
Murmurs and sounds of discontent;
For every thing alive complained,
That he the hardest life sustained.
Jove calls his eagle. At the word
Before him stands the royal bird.
The bird, obedient, from heaven's height,
Downward directs his rapid flight;
_10
Then cited every living thing,
To hear the mandates of his king.
'Ungrateful creatures, whence arise
These murmurs which offend the skies?
Why this disorder? say the cause:
For just are Jove's eternal laws.
Let each his discontent reveal;
To yon sour dog, I first appeal.'
'Hard is my lot,' the hound replies,
'On what fleet nerves the greyhound flies,
_20
While I, with weary step and slow,
O'er plains and vales, and mountains go.
The morning sees my chase be