The sufferers, crowding round the royal cave,
Their monarch’s pity and protection crave: 
Not that they wanted valour, force, or arms,
To shield their lambs from danger and alarms; 50
A thousand rams, the champions of the fold,
In strength of horn and patriot virtue bold,
Engaged in firm association stood,
Their lives devoted to the public good: 
A warlike chieftain was their sole request,
To marshal, guide, instruct, and rule the rest. 
Their prayer was heard, and, by consent of all,
A courtier ape appointed general. 
He went, he led; arranged the battle stood,
The savage foe came pouring like a flood; 60
Then Pug, aghast, fled swifter than the wind,
Nor deign’d in threescore miles to look behind,
While every band fled orders bleat in vain,
And fall in slaughter’d heaps upon the plain. 
The scared baboon, (to cut the matter short)
With all his speed, could not outrun report;
And, to appease the clamours of the nation,
’Twas fit his case should stand examination.

  The board was named—­each worthy took his place,
  All senior members of the horned race; 70
  The wedder, goat, ram, elk, and ox were there,
  And a grave hoary stag possess’d the chair. 
  The inquiry past, each in his turn began
  The culprit’s conduct variously to scan. 
  At length the sage uprear’d his awful crest,
  And, pausing, thus his fellow chiefs address’d: 
  ’If age, that from this head its honours stole,
  Hath not impair’d the functions of my soul,
  But sacred wisdom, with experience bought,
  While this weak frame decays, matures my thought, 80
  The important issue of this grand debate
  May furnish precedent for your own fate,
  Should ever fortune call you to repel
  The shaggy foe, so desperate and fell. 
  ’Tis plain, you say, his excellence Sir Ape
  From the dire field accomplish’d an escape;
  Alas! our fellow subjects ne’er had bled,
  If every ram that fell like him had fled;
  Certes, those sheep were rather mad than brave,
  Which scorn’d the example their wise leader gave. 90
  Let us then every vulgar hint disdain,
  And from our brother’s laurel wash the stain.’ 
  The admiring court applauds the president,
  And Pug was clear’d by general consent.

  FRIEND.

  There needs no magic to divine your scope,
  Mark’d, as you are, a flagrant misanthrope: 
  Sworn foe to good and bad, to great and small,
  Thy rankling pen produces nought but gall: 
  Let virtue struggle, or let glory shine,
  Thy verse affords not one approving line. 100

  POET.