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Indeed more proper to revenge than save;
A king whom in his wrath th' Almighty gave;
For all the grace the landlord had allow'd,
But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud;
Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the

crowd.

. They long their fellow-subjects to enthral,

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Their patron's promise into question call,
And vainly think he meant to make 'em lords of all,
False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest,

As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd;

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Nor sighs, nor groans, nor gogling eyes did want:
For now the Pigeons too had learnt to cant.
The house of pray'r is stock'd with large increase,
Nor doors, nor windows can contain the press :
For birds of ev'ry feather fill th' abode;

E'en Atheists out of envy own a God;

And, reeking from the stews, adult'rers come,
Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome.

That conscience, which to all their crimes was mate,
Now cries aloud, and cries to persecute;

No rigour of the laws to be releas'd,

And much the less, because it was their lord's request; They thought it great their sov'reign to control, 1220 And nam'd their pride Nobility of soul.

'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, Were short of pow'r their purpose to effect;

Volume II.

}

1230

But with their quills did all the hurt they could,
And cuff'd the tender chickens from their food;
And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir,
Though naming not the patron, to infer,
With all respect, he was a gross idolater.
But when th' imperial owner did espy,
That thus they turn'd his grace to villany,
Not suff'ring wrath to discompose his mind,
He strove a temper for th' extremes to find;
So to be just, as he might still be kind;
Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounc'd a doom,
Of sacred strength for ev'ry age to come.
By this the Doves their wealth and state possess,
No rights infring'd, but licence to oppress:
Such pow'r have they as factious lawyers long
To crowns ascrib'd, that kings can do no wrong:
But since his own domestic birds have try'd
The dire effects of their destructive pride,
He deems that proof a measure to the rest,
Concluding well within his kingly breast,
His fowls of Nature too unjustly were opprest.
He therefore makes all birds of ev'ry sect
Free of his farm, with promise to respect
Their sev'ral kinds alike, and equally protect.
His gracious edict the same franchise yields
To all the wild increase of woods and fields, 1250
And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds:

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Crows the like impartial grace affords,

d Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds: cur'd with ample privilege to feed,

ach has his district and his bounds decreed;
ombin'd in common int'rest with his own,
ut not to pass the Pigeon's Rubicon.
Here ends the reign of his pretended Dove,
All prophesies accomplish'd from above;
For Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove.
Reduc'd him from her imperial high abode,
Like Dionysius to a private rod,

The passive church, that with pretended grace
Did her distinctive maik in duty place,
Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face.

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1270

What after happen'd is not hard to guess:
The small beginnings had a large increase, [peace.
And arts and wealth succeed, the sacred spoils of
'Tis said the Doves repented, though too late,
Become the smiths of their own foolish fate:
Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour,
But, sunk in credit, they decreas'd in pow'r;
Like snows in warmth, that mildly pass away,
Dissolving in the silence of decay.

The Buzzard, not content with equal place,
Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race
To hide the thinness of their flock from sight,
And altogether make a seeming goodly flight;
Dryden.]

Qij

But each have sep'rate int'rests of their own;
Two czars are one too many for a throne.
Nor can th' usurper long abstain from food;
Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood,

And may be tempted to his former fare,

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When this indulgent lord shall late to heav'n repair.
Bare-benting times and moulting months may come,
When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home;
Or rent in schism (for so their fate decrees)
Like the tumultuous college of the bees,
They fight their quarrel, by themselves oppress'd,
The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast.
Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end,
Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend;
But, with affected yawnings, at the close
Seem'd to require her natural repose;
For now the streaky light began to peep,

And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep:

The Dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest,
The peace of Heav'n, betook herself to rest.
Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait,
With glorious visions of her future state.

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ALL human things are subject to decay,

And, when Fate summons, monarchs must obey.
This, Flecknoe found, who, like Augustus, young,
Was call'd to empire, and had govern❜d long;
In prose and verse was own'd, without dispute,
Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute.
This aged prince, now flourishing in peace,
And blest with issue of a large increase,
Worn out with bus'ness, did at length debate
To settle the succession of the state;

And, pond'ring which of all his sons was fit
To reign, and wage immortal war with Wit,
Cry'd, 'Tis resolv'd; for Nature pleads that he
Should only rule who most resembles me.
Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
Mature in dulness from his tender years;
Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he
Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity?
The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
But Shadwell never deviates into sense.
Some beams of wit on other souls may fall,
Strike through, and make a lucid interval;
But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,
His rising fogs prevail upon the day.
Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye,
And seems design'd for thoughtless majesty;

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