He worried all the tenants round;
130
For why, he lived in constant fear,
Lest truth, by chance, should interfere. 
If any stranger dare intrude,
The noisy cur his heels pursued. 
Now fierce with rage, now struck with dread,
At once he snarled, bit, and fled. 
Aloof he bays, with bristling hair,
And thus in secret growls his fear: 
’Who knows but truth, in this disguise,
May frustrate my best-guarded lies?
140
Should she (thus masked) admittance find,
That very hour my ruin’s signed.’ 
Now, in his howl’s continued sound,
Their words were lost, their voice was drown’d. 
Ever in awe of honest tongues,
Thus every day he strained his lungs. 
It happened, in ill-omened hour,
That Yap, unmindful of his power,
Forsook his post, to love inclined;
A favourite bitch was in the wind.
150
By her seduced, in amorous play,
They frisked the joyous hours away. 
Thus, by untimely love pursuing,
Like Antony, he sought his ruin. 
For now the squire, unvexed with noise,
An honest neighbour’s chat enjoys. 
‘Be free,’ says he, ’your mind impart;
I love a friendly open heart. 
Methinks my tenants shun my gate;
Why such a stranger grown of late?
160
Pray tell me what offence they find: 
‘Tis plain they’re not so well inclined.’ 
‘Turn off your cur,’ the farmer cries,
’Who feeds your ear with daily lies. 
His snarling insolence offends; 165
’Tis he that keeps you from your friends. 
Were but that saucy puppy check’d,
You’d find again the same respect. 
Hear only him, he’ll swear it too,
That all our hatred is to you.
170
But learn from us your true estate;
‘Tis that cursed cur alone we hate.’ 
The squire heard truth.  Now Yap rushed in;
The wide hall echoes with his din: 
Yet truth prevailed; and with disgrace,
The dog was cudgelled out of place.

* * * * *

FABLE VII.

THE COUNTRYMAN AND JUPITER.

TO MYSELF.

Have you a friend (look round and spy)
So fond, so prepossessed as I? 
Your faults, so obvious to mankind,
My partial eyes could never find. 
When by the breath of fortune blown,
Your airy castles were o’erthrown;
Have I been over-prone to blame,
Or mortified your hours with shame? 
Was I e’er known to damp your spirit,
Or twit you with the want of merit?
10
’Tis not so strange, that Fortune’s frown
Still perseveres to keep you down. 
Look round, and see what others do. 
Would you be rich and honest too? 
Have you (like those she raised to place)
Been opportunely mean and base? 
Have you (as times required) resigned
Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind? 
If these are scruples, give her o’er;
Write, practise morals, and be poor.
20
The gifts of fortune truly rate;
Then tell me what would mend your state.