S FABLES. Fab. XXIII. Of the Lyon grown old. COme all, come all, take your revenges full, My Coufin Horfe, the Boar, the Bear and Bull; Come all you free-born beafts, and now no more Tremble to htar the cruel Lyon rore The Forreft now is ours, that Tyrant which So long proud Scepters fwai'd, in yonder Ditch Lyes bed-rid, brays the AfTe; then come each one And give him ample Retribution. And I'll redeem my R eputation loft: The Lyon now fhall know unto his coft, The Afs is no fuch daftard, nor fo dull; Then come, come all, and take R evenges full. This faid, the Vulgar rufh, both wild and tame, Where the old Lyonhy, Weak, Sick, and Lame : His Crown they feize, upon his Scepter tread, And pull his Royal Ermine o'r his Head. When round his Eyes the dying Monarch caft, And as he view'd them, groaning/pake his laft; I did not well, when I had Strength and Power, So many loving Sub/e&s to devour, Whofe friends take ;uft revenge: But where are they Who drank with me their blood, and Hiar'd the Prey To guard my perfbn from their cruel R age? Some my dim fight prefents, who now engage With greater Malice: ah ! for which good deed Friends doe you tear my fides ? You make me bleed ? 'Twas no well grounded Policy of State By Arbitrary Power to purchafe Hate; K But