and hoped the wand.
Now expectation hushed the band,
_40
When thus the monarch from the throne:
'Merit was ever modest known,
What, no physician speak his right!
None here! but fees their toils requite.
Let then Intemperance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand.
You, Fever, Gout, and all the rest,
(Whom wary men, as foes, detest,)
Forego your claim; no more pretend:
Intemperance is esteemed a friend;
_50
He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And, as a courted guest, destroys.
The charge on him must justly fall,
Who finds employment for you all.'

* * * * *

FABLE XLVIII.

THE GARDENER AND THE HOG.

A gard'ner, of peculiar taste,
On a young hog his favour placed;
Who fed not with the common herd;
His tray was to the hall preferred.
He wallowed underneath the board,
Or in his master's chamber snored;
Who fondly stroked him every day,
And taught him all the puppy's play;
Where'er he went, the grunting friend
Ne'er failed his pleasure to attend.
_10
As on a time, the loving pair
Walked forth to tend the garden's care,
The master thus address'd the swine:
'My house, my garden, all is thine.
On turnips feast whene'er you please,
And riot in my beans and peas;
If the potato's taste delights,
Or the red carrot's sweet invites,
Indulge thy morn and evening hours,
But let due care regard my flowers:
_20
My tulips are my garden's pride,
What vast expense those beds supplied!'
The hog by chance one morning roamed,
Where with new ale the vessels foamed.
He munches now the steaming grains,
Now with full swill the liquor drains.
Intoxicating fumes arise; 27
He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;
Then stagg'ring through the garden scours,
And treads down painted ranks of flowers.
_30
With delving snout he turns the soil,
And cools his palate with the spoil.
The master came, the ruin spied,
'Villain, suspend thy rage,' he cried.
'Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot,
My charge, my only charge forgot?
What, all my flowers!' No more he said,
But gazed, and sighed, and hung his head.
The hog with stutt'ring speech returns:
'Explain, sir, why your anger burns.
_40
See there, untouched, your tulips strown,
For I devoured the roots alone.'
At this the gard'ner's passion grows;
From oaths and threats