Cocking his tail, a saucy prig, A Magpie hopped upon a Pig, To pull some hair, forsooth, to line his nest; And with such ease began the hair attack, As thinking the fee simple of the back Was by himself, and not the Pig, possessed. The Boar looked up as thunder black to Mag, Who, squinting down on him like an arch wag, Informed Mynheer some bristles must be torn. Then briskly went to work, not nicely culling: Got a good handsome beakful by good pulling, And flew, without a "Thank ye" to his thorn. The Pig set up a dismal yelling: Followed the robber to his dwelling, Who like a fool had built it 'midst a bramble. In manfully he sallied, full of might, Determined to obtain his right, And 'midst the bushes now began to scramble. He drove the Magpie, tore his nest to rags, And, happy on the downfall, poured his brags: But ere he from the brambles came, alack! His ears and eyes were miserably torn, His bleeding hide in such a plight forlorn, He could not count ten hairs upon his back. ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN, OR, THE ROSE AND STRAWBERRY. PETER PINDAR Young women! don't be fond of killing, Too well I know your hearts unwilling To hide beneath the vail a charm-- Too pleased a sparkling eye to roll, And with a neck to thrill the soul Of every swain with love's alarm. Yet, yet, if prudence be not near Its snow may melt into a tear. The dimple smile, and pouting lip, Where little Cupids nectar sip, Are very pretty lures I own: But, ah! if prudence be not nigh, Those lips where all the Cupids lie, May give a passage to a groan. A Rose, in all the pride of bloom, Flinging around her rich perfume Her form to public notice pushing, Amid the summer's golden glow Peeped on a Strawberry below, Beneath a leaf, in secret blushing. "Miss Strawberry," exclaimed the Rose, "What's beauty that no mortal knows? What is a charm, if never seen? You really are a pretty creature: Then wherefore hide each blooming feature? Come up, and show your modest mien." "Miss Rose," the Strawberry replied, "I never did possess a pride That wished to dash the public eye: Indeed, I own that I'm afraid-- I think there's safety in the shade, Ambition causes many a sigh." "Go, simple child," the Rose rejoined, "See how I wanton in the wind: I feel no danger's dread alarms: And then observe the god of day, How amorous with his golden ray, To pay his visits to my charms!" No sooner said, but with a scream She started from her favorite theme-- A clown had on her fixed his pat. In vain she screeched--Hob did but smile; Rubbed with her leaves his nose awhile, Then bluntly stuck her in his hat. ECONOMY. PETER PINDAR.