My shanks, sunk eyes, and noseless face,
  Prove my pretension to the place.’ 
     Stone urged his ever-growing force. 
  And, next, Consumption’s meagre corse,
30
  With feeble voice, that scarce was heard,
  Broke with short coughs, his suit preferred: 
  ’Let none object my ling’ring way,
  I gain, like Fabius, by delay;
  Fatigue and weaken every foe
  By long attack, secure, though slow.’ 
     Plague represents his rapid power,
  Who thinned a nation in an hour. 
     All spoke their claim, 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;
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  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: 
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  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.
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  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,