Dog and the moon
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The DOG and the MOON,
A Snarling cur, which could not bear
To ſee another riſe,
Would ſtand whole nights, and baite the moon
For ſhining in the ſkies :
For brightneſs was her only fault,
And that was fault enough,
He wonder'd much how men of ſenſe
Could like ſuch tinſel ſtuff :
Whilſt ſhe, regardleſs of the whelp,
Which burſt his gall with ſpite,
Purſu'd, unhurt, her heavenly courſe,
And ſtrove to ſhine more bright.
Such, Stayley, are thy carping foes,
And ſuch their fate will be ;
Envy ſhall ſooner break their hearts,
Than they ſhall injure thee.
With due contempt, unmov'd, endure,
The puppies of thy days,
And till a cur can fell the moon,
Thou ſhalt not want thy praiſe.
With care and ſtudy toil to pleaſe,
As thou haſt done before,
At once 'tis triumph, and revenge,
Nor couldſt thou vex them more.
On reading the fable of the Dog and
HIDE, Cynthia, hide thy ſilver face,
Lo ! St—y rifes to debaſe,
Obſcure thee with his ſhade ;
No more ſtrange epithets be thine,
Nor mighty without rival ſhine,
A ſtrange eclipſe we dread.
Shall prompted wou'd-be poets dare,
Bright ſol's reflected light compare,
With ſuch a dingy gleam ?
Shall one within his ſphere diſgrac'd,
With pureſt Dian e'er be plac'd,
In allegoric theme ?
Hide, St——y hide, nor give a hint,
For fools to ſet thee forth in print,
A planet bay'd again,
If thus thy venom'd tongue proceed,
Not dogs but boys will bay indeed
A mortal ſhunn'd by men.
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