The Moral.
So one that cross'd the Ocean o'er,
May smother in a Common Shore.
The Woodcleaver and Mercury.
In Ancient times, when Jupiter
Was pretty free, a Labourer,
That earn'd his Bread with cleaving Wood,
Lost with his Ax his Livelyhood.
'T would grieve ones Heart to hear what sad
And pitious moan the Fellow made:
He had no Tools to sell again,
And buy another Ax, poor Man!
It was his All, and what to do,
Or how to live he does not know,
And as the Tears stood in his Eyes,
My Ax! O my dear Ax! he cries:
Sweet loving Jupiter! restore
My Ax. Olympus hear his roar;
And Mercury the Post-Boy, or
The Flying Post (his Character
Suits either for he's God of Lying
Beardless, and fam'd for News and Flying.)
Came to the Labourer, and said,
Your Ax in't lost, cheer up, my Lad:
I've got it here; but can you tell
Which is your own? I very well,
Quoth he. Says Mercury take hold,
And gives him one of Massy Gold;
To this, quoth th' other, I've no claim;
To a Silver one he said the same.
But when his Iron one was shewn,
He cries, I Faix this is mine own;
God bless you, Sir. And Mercury }
Said, to reward his Honesty, }
Th' are all your own, I give 'em ye. }
The Story's quickly nois'd about;
The way to Riches is found out:
'Tis but to lose one's Ax; the Fools,
That had none, sold their Cloaths and Tools
To get one; and whate'er they cost,
They're bought in order to be lost.
The God of Thieves and Merchants, who
By chance had nothing else to do,
Came as they call'd; his Deity
Gave every one the choice of three:
The lying Rogues deny'd their own,
And swore they lost a Golden one:
But as they stoop for't, Mercury
Chops off their Heads, and there they lie.
The Moral.
The Fable shews you, Honesty
Is always the best Policy.
The Hare and his Ears.
Some stupid horn'd Beast or other,
Trotting along to get some fother,
Had run the Lyon in his Side;
Who, for the future to provide
Against such Accidents as this,
Sends Writs, by which he banishes
From his Dominions every one,
That wore a Horn: And when 'twas known,
The Stags sneak off with Bulls and Rams,
The very Calves went with their Dams:
And, whilst they are moving every where
To foreign parts, a fearful Hare,
That saw the shadow of his Ears,
Was startled at the sight; and fears,
Some Villain might maliciously
Say they were Horns; What Remedy?
Says he, they're long, and I can't tell.
Well Neighbour Cricket Fare-you-well:
My Ears are Horns too; I'll march off;
They're very long, and that's enough:
Nay, were th' as short as Ostrich Ears,
It would not rid me of my fears;
For if they catch m' I go to Pot.
Foh! says the Cricket, y'are a sot.
Hares Horns! what Puppy calls 'em so?
Th' are Ears. But yet, for ought you know,
Replies poor Puss, they'll pass for Horns;
And may be Horns of Unicorns.
They call the Rabbet's Fore legs, Wings,
I hold no Argument with Kings.