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What are become of the Charms of Musick, by which Men and Beasts, Fishes, Fowls, and Serpents, were frequently enchanted, and their very Natures changed; by which the Passions of Men were raised to the greatest Height and Violence, and then as suddenly appeased, so as they might be justly said to be turned into Lyons or Lambs, into Wolves or into Harts, by the Powers and Charms of this admirable Art? 'Tis agreed by the Learned, that the Science of Musick, so admired by the Ancients, is wholly lost in the World, and that what we have now is made up out of certain Notes that fell into the Fancy or Observation of a poor Friar, in chanting his Mattins. So as those two Divine Excellencies of Musick and Poetry are grown, in a Manner to be little more, but the one Fiddling, and the other Rhyming; and are indeed very worthy the Ignorance of the Friar, and the Barbarousness of the Goths that introduced them among us.

What have we remaining of Magick, by which the Indians, the Chaldeans, the Egyptians were so renowned, and by which Effects so wonderful, and to common Men so astonishing, were produced, as made them have Recourse to Spirits or Supernatural Powers, for some Account of their strange Operations? By Magick, I mean some excelling Knowledge of Nature, and the various Powers and Qualities in its several Productions, and the Application of certain Agents to certain Patients, which by Force of some peculiar Qualities produce Effects very different from what fall under vulgar Observation or Comprehension. These are by ignorant People called Magick and Conjuring, and such like Terms and an Account of them, much about as wise, is given by the Common Learned from Sympathies, Antipathies, Idiosyncrasies, Talismans, and some Scraps or Terms left us by the Egyptians or Grecians of the Ancient Magick; but the Science seems with several others to be wholly lost. . .

It may perhaps be further affirmed, in Favour of the Ancients, that the oldest Books we have are still in their Kind the best. The two most ancient, that I know of in Prose, among those we call Profane Authors, are Æsops Fables and Phalaris's Epistles, both living near the same time, which was that of Cyrus and Pythagoras. As the first has been agreed by all ages since, for the greatest Master in his Kind, and all others of that Sort have been but imitations of his Original; So I think the Epistles of Phalaris to have more Race, more Spirit, more Force of Wit

and Genius than any others I have ever seen, either Ancient or Modern. I know several Learned Men (or that usually pass for such, under the Name of Criticks) have not esteemed them Genuine, and Politian with some others have attributed them to Lucian: But I think he must have little skill in Painting, that cannot find out this to be an original; such Diversity of Passions, upon such Variety of Actions and Passages of Life and Government, such Freedom of Thought, such Boldness of Expression, such Bounty to his Friends, such Scorn of his Enemies, such Honour of Learned Men, such Esteem of Good, such Knowledge of Life, such Contempt of Death, with such Fierceness of Nature and Cruelty of Revenge, could never be represented but by him that possessed them; and I esteem Lucian to have been no more capable of Writing, than of Acting what Phalaris did. In all one writ, you find the Scholar or the Sophist; and in all the other, the Tyrant and the Commander.

THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

[JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, the noted French fabulist, was the son of a superintendent of woods and forests, and was born at Château-Thierry in Champagne, July 8, 1621. He left the College of Rheims at the age of nineteen to study for the ministry, but gave up that pursuit after two years. Invited to Paris by the Duchesse de Bouillon, he enjoyed the patronage of the Duchesse d'Orleans, Madame de Sablière, and Madame d'Hervart; and was on intimate terms with Molière, Boileau, Racine, and other contemporary celebrities. He became a member of the French Academy in 1683, but not without some opposition from Louis XIV., with whom he was never a favorite; and died at Paris, April 13, 1695. The "Fables," with which his name is chiefly associated, appeared between 1688 and 1694, the first six being inscribed to the Dauphin of France. His other writings consist of two volumes of "Contes" (tales), “The Love of Psyche and Cupid," and some unimportant comedies.]

THE WOLF AND THE DOG.

A PROWLING Wolf, whose shaggy skin
(So strict the watch of dogs had been)
Hid little but his bones,

Once met a mastiff dog astray.
A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray
No human mortal owns.

Sir Wolf, in famished plight,

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The wolf, by force of appetite,

Accepts the terms outright,
Tears glistening in his eyes;
But faring on, he spies

A galled spot on the mastiff's neck.

"What's that?" he cries. "Oh, nothing but a speck."
"A speck?"-"Aye, aye; 'tis not enough to pain me:
Perhaps the collar's mark by which they chain me."
"Chain! chain you! What! run you not, then,
Just where you please, and when?"

"Not always, sir; but what of that?"
a Enough for me, to spare your fat!

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That has more charms than you?
No animal in everything can shine.
By just partition of our gifts divine,
Each has its full and proper share:
Among the birds that cleave the air,
The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave one,
For omens serves the hoarse old raven,
The rook's of coming ills the prophet;
And if there's any discontent,

I've heard not of it.

Cease, then, your envious complaint;
Or I, instead of making up your lack,

Will take your boasted plumage from your back."

THE LION GOING TO WAR.

The lion had an enterprise in hand;

Held a war council, sent his provost marshal,
And gave the animals a call impartial, -
Each, in his way, to serve his high command.
The elephant should carry on his back
The tools of war, the mighty public pack,
And fight in elephantine way and form;
The bear should hold himself prepared to storm;
The fox all secret stratagems should fix;
The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks.
"Dismiss," said one, "the blockhead asses,
And hares, too cowardly and fleet."
"No," said the king: "I use all classes;
Without their aid my force were incomplete.
The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare
Our enemy. And then the nimble hare
Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear."

A monarch provident and wise
Will hold his subjects all of consequence,
And know in each what talent lies.
There's nothing useless to a man of sense.

THE STAG SEEING HIMSELF IN THE WATER.
Beside a placid, crystal flood,

A stag admired the branching wood
That high upon his forehead stood,
But gave his Maker little thanks
For what he called his spindle shanks.
"What limbs are these for such a head!
So mean and slim!" with grief he said.
"My glorious head o'ertops

The branches of the copse;

My legs are my disgrace."

As thus he talked, a bloodhound gave him chase.
To save his life he flew

Where forests thickest grew.
His horns, pernicious ornament!-
Arresting him where'er he went,
Did unavailing render

What else, in such a strife,
Had saved his precious life,-
His legs, as fleet as slender.

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