The Hind and the Panther.
77
If to the lawfull Heir she had been true,
She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due.
I might, she added, with like praise describe
Your suff'ring sons, and so return your bribe;
But incense from my hands is poorly priz'd,
For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despis'd.
I serv'd a turn, and then was cast away;
You, like the gawdy fly, your wings display,
And sip the sweets, and bask in your Great Patron's day.
She paid but Cæsar what was Cæsar's due.
I might, she added, with like praise describe
Your suff'ring sons, and so return your bribe;
But incense from my hands is poorly priz'd,
For gifts are scorn'd where givers are despis'd.
I serv'd a turn, and then was cast away;
You, like the gawdy fly, your wings display,
And sip the sweets, and bask in your Great Patron's day.
This heard, the Matron was not slow to find
What sort of malady had seiz'd her mind;
Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despight,
And canker'd malice stood in open sight.
Ambition, int'rest, pride without controul,
And jealousie, the jaundice of the soul;
Revenge, the bloudy minister of ill,
With all the lean tormenters of the will.
'Twas easie now to guess from whence arose
Her new made union with her ancient foes.
What sort of malady had seiz'd her mind;
Disdain, with gnawing envy, fell despight,
And canker'd malice stood in open sight.
Ambition, int'rest, pride without controul,
And jealousie, the jaundice of the soul;
Revenge, the bloudy minister of ill,
With all the lean tormenters of the will.
'Twas easie now to guess from whence arose
Her new made union with her ancient foes.
Her
