Thy teasing tongue had judgment tied, 

 Thou had'st not, like a puppy, died. 



John Gay. 



The Cook-Maid, the Turnspit, and the Ox ^ 



To a Poor Man 



/"^OXSIDER man in ev'ry sphere, 

 ^" Then tell me is your lot severe ? 

 'Tis murmur, discontent, distrust, 

 That makes you wretched. God is just. 



I grant, that hunger must be fed, 

 That toil, too, earns thy daily bread. 

 What then ? Thy wants are seen and known, 

 But ev'ry mortal feels his own. 

 We're born a restless needy crew : 

 Shew me the happier man than you. 



Adam, though blest above his kind, 

 For want of social woman pined. 

 Eve's wants the subtle serpent saw, 

 Her fickle taste transgress'd the law : 

 Thus fell our sire ; and their disgrace 

 The curse entail'd on human race. 



When Philip's son, by glory led, 

 Had o'er the ylobe his empire spread ; 

 When altars to his name were dress'd, 

 i 65 



