e Hare
Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear."

_A monarch provident and wise
Will hold his subjects all of consequence,
And know in each what talent lies.
There's nothing useless to a man of sense._

The Ass and the Lap-dog

One's native talent from its course
Cannot be turned aside by force;
But poorly apes the country clown
The polish'd manners of the town.
Their Maker chooses but a few
With power of pleasing to imbue;
Where wisely leave it we, the mass,
Unlike a certain fabled Ass,
That thought to gain his master's blessing
By jumping on him and caressing.
"What!" said the Donkey in his heart;
"Ought it to be that Puppy's part
To lead his useless life
In full companionship
With master and his wife,
While I must bear the whip?
What doth the Cur a kiss to draw
Forsooth, he only gives his paw!
If that is all there needs to please,
I'll do the thing myself, with ease."
Possess'd with this bright notion--
His master sitting on his chair,
At leisure in the open air--
He ambled up, with awkward motion,
And put his talents to the proof;
Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof,
And, with an amiable mien,
His master patted on the chin,
The action gracing with a word--
The fondest bray that e'er was heard!
Oh, such caressing was there ever?
Or melody with such a quaver?
"Ho! Martin! here! a club, a club bring!"
Out cried the master, sore offended.
So Martin gave the Ass a drubbing--
And so the comedy was ended.

The Hare and the Partridge

A field in common share
A Partridge and a Hare,
And live in peaceful state,
Till, woeful to relate!
The hunters mingled cry
Compels the Hare to fly.
He hurries to his fort,
And spoils almost the sport
By faulting every hound
That yelps upon the ground.
At last his reeking heat
Betrays his snug retreat.
Old Tray, with philosophic nose,
Snuffs carefully, and grows
So certain, that he cries,
"The Hare is here; bow wow!"
And veteran Ranger now--
The dog that never lies--
"The Hare is gone," replies.
Alas! poor, wretched Hare,
Back comes he to his lair,
To meet destruction there!
The Partridge, void of fear,
Begins her friend to jeer:--
"You bragg'd of being fleet;
How serve you, now, your feet?"
Scarce has she ceased to speak--
The laugh yet in her beak--
When co