FABLE XVI.
THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE.
A pin, who long had served a beauty,
Proficient in the toilet's duty,
Had formed her sleeve, confined her hair,
Or given her knot a smarter air,
Now nearest to her heart was placed,
Now in her mantua's tail disgraced:
But could she partial fortune blame,
Who saw her lovers served the same?
At length from all her honours cast;
Through various turns of life she pass'd;
_10
Now glittered on a tailor's arm;
Now kept a beggar's infant warm;
Now, ranged within a miser's coat,
Contributes to his yearly groat;
Now, raised again from low approach,
She visits in the doctor's coach;
Here, there, by various fortune toss'd,
At last in Gresham Hall[3] was lost.
Charmed with the wonders of the show,
On every side, above, below,
_20
She now of this or that enquires,
What least was understood admires.
'Tis plain, each thing so struck her mind.
Her head's of virtuoso kind.
'And pray what's this, and this, dear sir?'
'A needle,' says the interpreter.
She knew the name. And thus the fool
Addressed her as a tailor's tool:
'A needle with that filthy stone,
Quite idle, all with rust o'ergrown!
_30
You better might employ your parts,
And aid the sempstress in her arts.
But tell me how the friendship grew
Between that paltry flint and you?'
'Friend,' says the needle, 'cease to blame;
I follow real worth and fame.
Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art,
That virtue virtues can impart?
Of all his talents I partake,
Who then can such a friend forsake?
_40
'Tis I directs the pilot's hand
To shun the rocks and treacherous sand:
By me the distant world is known,
And either India is our own.
Had I with milliners been bred,
What had I been? the guide of thread,
And drudged as vulgar needles do,
Of no more consequence than you.'
* * * * *
FABLE XVII.
THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND THE WOLF.
A wolf, with hunger fierce and bold,
Ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold:
Deep in the wood secure he lay,
The thefts of night regaled the day.
In vain the shepherd's wakeful care
Had spread the toils, and watched the snare:
In vain the dog pursued his pace,
The fleeter robber mocked the chase.
As Lightfoot ranged the forest round,
By chance his foe's retreat he found.
_10
'Let us awhile the war suspend,
And reason as from friend to friend.'
'A truce?' replies the wolf. 'Tis done.
The dog the parley thus begun:
'How can that strong intrepid mind
Attack a weak defenceless kind?
Those jaws should prey on nobler food,
And drink the boar's and lion's blood;
Great souls with generous pity melt,
Which coward tyrants never felt.
_20
How harmless is our fleecy care!
Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.'
'Friend,' says the wolf, 'the matter weigh;
Nature designed us beasts of prey;
As such when hunger finds a treat,
'Tis necessary wolves should eat.
If mindful of the bleating weal,
Thy bosom burn with real zeal;
Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech;
To him repeat the moving speech;
_30
A wolf eats sheep but now and then,
Ten thousands are devoured by men.
An open foe may prove a curse,
But a pretended friend is worse.'
* * * * *
FABLE XVIII.
THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED NOBODY AND EVERYBODY.
Lest men suspect your tale untrue,
Keep probability in view.
The traveller leaping o'er those bounds,
The credit of his book confounds.
Who with his tongue hath armies routed,
Makes even his real courage doubted:
But flattery never seems absurd;
The flattered always take your word:
Impossibilities seem just;
They take the strongest praise on trust.
_10
Hyperboles, though ne'er so great,
Will still come short of self-conceit.
So very like a painter drew,
That every eye the picture knew;
He hit complexion, feature, air,
So just, the life itself was there.
No flattery with his colours laid,
To bloom restored the faded maid;
He gave each muscle all its strength,
The mouth, the chin, the nose's length.
_20
His honest pencil touched with truth,
And marked the date of age and youth.
He lost his friends, his practice failed;
Truth should not always be revealed;
In dusty piles his pictures lay,
For no one sent the second pay.
Two busts, fraught with every grace
A Venus' and Apollo's face,
He placed in view; resolved to please,
Whoever sat, he drew from these,
_30
From these corrected every feature,
And spirited each awkward creature.
All things were set; the hour was come,
His pallet ready o'er his thumb,
My lord appeared; and seated right
In proper attitude and light,
The painter looked, he sketched the piece,
Then dipp'd his pencil, talked of Greece,
Of Titian's tints, of Guido's air;
'Those eyes, my lord, the spirit there
_40
Might well a Raphael's hand require,
To give them all the native fire;
The features fraught with sense and wit,
You'll grant are very hard to hit;
But yet with patience you shall view
As much as paint and art can do.
Observe the work.' My lord replied:
'Till now I thought my mouth was wide;
Besides, my mouth is somewhat long;
Dear sir, for me, 'tis far too young.'
_50
'Oh! pardon me,' the artist cried,
'In this, the painters must decide.
The piece even common eyes must strike,
I warrant it extremely like.'
My lord examined it anew;
No looking-glass seemed half so true.
A lady came, with borrowed grace
He from his Venus formed her face.
Her lover praised the painter's art;
So like the picture in his heart!
_60
To every age some charm he lent;
Even beauties were almost content.
Through all the town his art they praised;
His custom grew, his price was raised.
Had he the real likeness shown,
Would any man the picture own?
But when thus happily he wrought,
Each found the likeness in his thought.
* * * * *
FABLE XIX.
THE LION AND THE CUB.
How fond are men of rule and place,
Who court it from the mean and base!
These cannot bear an equal nigh,
But from superior merit fly.
They love the cellar's vulgar joke,
And lose their hours in ale and smoke.
There o'er some petty club preside;
So poor, so paltry is their pride!
Nay, even with fools whole nights will sit,
In hopes to be supreme in wit.
_10
If these can read, to these I write,
To set their worth in truest light.
A lion-cub, of sordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;
Fond of applause, he sought the feasts
Of vulgar and ignoble beasts;
With asses all his time he spent,
Their club's perpetual president.
He caught their manners, looks, and airs;
An ass in every thing, but ears!
_20
If e'er his highness meant a joke,
They grinned applause before he spoke;
But at each word what shouts of praise!
Good gods! how natural he brays!
Elate with flattery and conceit,
He seeks his royal sire's retreat;
Forward, and fond to show his parts,
His highness brays; the lion starts.
'Puppy, that cursed vociferation
Betrays thy life and conversation:
_30
Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race,
Are trumpets of their own disgrace.'
'Why so severe?' the cub replies;
'Our senate always held me wise.'
'How weak is pride!' returns the sire;
'All fools are vain, when fools admire!
But know what stupid asses prize,
Lions and noble beasts despise.'
* * * * *
FABLE XX.
THE OLD HEN AND THE COCK.
Restrain your child; you'll soon believe
The text which says, we sprung from Eve.
As an old hen led forth her train,
And seemed to peck to shew the grain;
She raked the chaff, she scratched the ground,
And gleaned the spacious yard around.
A giddy chick, to try her wings,
On the well's narrow margin springs,
And prone she drops. The mother's breast
All day with sorrow was possess'd.
_10
A cock she met; her son she knew;
And in her heart affection grew.
'My son,' says she, 'I grant your years
Have reached beyond a mother's cares;
I see you vig'rous, strong, and bold;
I hear with joy your triumphs told.
Tis not from cocks thy fate I dread;
But let thy ever-wary tread
Avoid yon well; that fatal place
Is sure perdition to our race.
_20
Print this my counsel on thy breast;
To the just gods I leave the rest.'
He thanked her care; yet day by day
His bosom burned to disobey;
And every time the well he saw,
Scorned in his heart the foolish law:
Near and more near each day he drew,
And longed to try the dangerous view.
'Why was this idle charge?' he cries;
'Let courage female fears despise.
_30
Or did she doubt my heart was brave,
And therefore this injunction gave?
Or does her harvest store the place,
A treasure for her younger race?
And would she thus my search prevent?
I stand resolved, and dare the event.'
Thus said. He mounts the margin's round,
And pries into the depth profound.
He stretched his neck; and from below
With stretching neck advanced a foe:
_40
With wrath his ruffled plumes he rears,
The foe with ruffled plumes appears:
Threat answered threat, his fury grew,
Headlong to meet the war he flew,
But when the watery death he found,
He thus lamented as he drowned:
'I ne'er had been in this condition,
But for my mother's prohibition.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXI.
THE RAT-CATCHER AND CATS.
The rats by night such mischief did,
Betty was every morning chid.
They undermined whole sides of bacon,
Her cheese was sapped, her tarts were taken.
Her pasties, fenced with thickest paste,
Were all demolished, and laid waste.
She cursed the cat for want of duty,
Who left her foes a constant booty.
An engineer, of noted skill,
Engaged to stop the growing ill.
_10
From room to room he now surveys
Their haunts, their works, their secret ways;
Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade,
And whence the nightly sally's made.
An envious cat from place to place,
Unseen, attends his silent pace.
She saw, that if his trade went on,
The purring race must be undone;
So, secretly removes his baits,
And every stratagem defeats.
_20
Again he sets the poisoned toils,
And puss again the labour foils.
'What foe (to frustrate my designs)
My schemes thus nightly countermines?'
Incensed, he cries: 'this very hour
This wretch shall bleed beneath my power.'
So said. A pond'rous trap he brought,
And in the fact poor puss was caught.
'Smuggler,' says he, 'thou shalt be made
A victim to our loss of trade.'
_30
The captive cat, with piteous mews,
For pardon, life, and freedom sues:
'A sister of the science spare;
One interest is our common care.'
'What insolence!' the man replied;
'Shall cats with us the game divide?
Were all your interloping band
Extinguished, of expelled the land,
We rat-catchers might raise our fees,
Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!'
_40
A cat, who saw the lifted knife,
Thus spoke, and saved her sister's life:
'In every age and clime we see,
Two of a trade can ne'er agree.
Each hates his neighbour for encroaching;
Squire stigmatises squire for poaching;
Beauties with beauties are in arms,
And scandal pelts each other's charms;
Kings too their neighbour kings dethrone,
In hope to make the world their own.
_50
But let us limit our desires;
Nor war like beauties, kings, and squires!
For though we both one prey pursue,
There's game enough for us and you.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXII.
THE GOAT WITHOUT A BEARD.
'Tis certain, that the modish passions
Descend among the crowd, like fashions.
Excuse me then, if pride, conceit,
(The manners of the fair and great)
I give to monkeys, asses, dogs,
Fleas, owls, goats, butterflies, and hogs.
I say that these are proud. What then?
I never said they equal men.
A goat (as vain as goat can be)
Affected singularity.
_10
Whene'er a thymy bank he found,
He rolled upon the fragrant ground;
And then with fond attention stood,
Fixed o'er his image in the flood.
'I hate my frowsy beard,' he cries;
'My youth is lost in this disguise.
Did not the females know my vigour,
Well might they loathe this reverend figure.'
Resolved to smoothe his shaggy face,
He sought the barber of the place.
_20
A flippant monkey, spruce and smart,
Hard by, professed the dapper art;
His pole with pewter basins hung,
Black rotten teeth in order strung,
Ranged cups that in the window stood,
Lined with red rags, to look like blood,
Did well his threefold trade explain,
Who shaved, drew teeth, and breathed a vein.
The goat he welcomes with an air,
And seats him in his wooden chair:
_30
Mouth, nose, and cheek the lather hides:
Light, smooth, and swift the razor glides.
'I hope your custom, sir,' says pug.
'Sure never face was half so smug.'
The goat, impatient for applause,
Swift to the neighbouring hill withdraws:
The shaggy people grinned and stared.
'Heyday! what's here? without a beard!
Say, brother, whence the dire disgrace?
What envious hand hath robbed your face?'
_40
When thus the fop with smiles of scorn:
'Are beards by civil nations worn?
Even Muscovites have mowed their chins.
Shall we, like formal Capuchins,
Stubborn in pride, retain the mode,
And bear about the hairy load?
Whene'er we through the village stray,
Are we not mocked along the way;
Insulted with loud shouts of scorn,
By boys our beards disgraced and torn?'
_50
'Were you no more with goats to dwell,
Brother, I grant you reason well,'
Replies a bearded chief. 'Beside,
If boys can mortify thy pride,
How wilt thou stand the ridicule
Of our whole flock? Affected fool!
Coxcombs, distinguished from the rest,
To all but coxcombs are a jest.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXIII.
THE OLD WOMAN AND HER CATS.
Who friendship with a knave hath made,
Is judged a partner in the trade.
The matron who conducts abroad
A willing nymph, is thought a bawd;
And if a modest girl is seen
With one who cures a lover's spleen,
We guess her not extremely nice,
And only wish to know her price.
'Tis thus that on the choice of friends
Our good or evil name depends.
_10
A wrinkled hag, of wicked fame,
Beside a little smoky flame
Sate hovering, pinched with age and frost;
Her shrivelled hands, with veins embossed,
Upon her knees her weight sustains,
While palsy shook her crazy brains:
She mumbles forth her backward prayers,
An untamed scold of fourscore years.
About her swarmed a numerous brood
Of cats, who, lank with hunger, mewed.
_20
Teased with their cries, her choler grew,
And thus she sputtered: 'Hence, ye crew.
Fool that I was, to entertain
Such imps, such fiends, a hellish train!
Had ye been never housed and nursed,
I, for a witch had ne'er been cursed.
To you I owe, that crowds of boys
Worry me with eternal noise;
Straws laid across, my pace retard,
The horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's guard),
_30
The stunted broom the wenches hide,
For fear that I should up and ride;
They stick with pins my bleeding seat,
And bid me show my secret teat.'
'To hear you prate would vex a saint;
Who hath most reason of complaint?'
Replies a cat. 'Let's come to proof.
Had we ne'er starved beneath your roof,
We had, like others of our race,
In credit lived as beasts of chase.
_40
'Tis infamy to serve a hag;
Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag;
And boys against our lives combine,
Because, 'tis said, you cats have nine.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXIV.
THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SNAIL.
All upstarts insolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.
As, in the sunshine of the morn,
A butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose;
With pert conceit his bosom glows;
His wings (all-glorious to behold)
Bedropp'd with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he displays; the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.
_10
His now-forgotten friend, a snail,
Beneath his house, with slimy trail
Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies,
In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:
'What means yon peasant's daily toil,
From choking weeds to rid the soil?
Why wake you to the morning's care,
Why with new arts correct the year,
Why glows the peach with crimson hue,
And why the plum's inviting blue;
_20
Were they to feast his taste design'd,
That vermin of voracious kind?
Crush then the slow, the pilfering race;
So purge thy garden from disgrace.'
'What arrogance!' the snail replied;
'How insolent is upstart pride!
Hadst thou not thus with insult vain,
Provoked my patience to complain,
I had concealed thy meaner birth,
Nor traced thee to the scum of earth.
_30
For scarce nine suns have waked the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers,
Since I thy humbler life surveyed,
In base, in sordid guise arrayed;
A hideous insect, vile, unclean,
You dragged a slow and noisome train;
And from your spider-bowels drew
Foul film, and spun the dirty clew.
I own my humble life, good friend;
Snail was I born, and snail shall end.
_40
And what's a butterfly? At best,
He's but a caterpillar, dress'd;
And all thy race (a numerous seed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXV.
THE SCOLD AND THE PARROT.
The husband thus reproved his wife:
'Who deals in slander, lives in strife.
Art thou the herald of disgrace,
Denouncing war to all thy race?
Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage,
Which spares no friend, nor sex, nor age?
That vixen tongue of yours, my dear,
Alarms our neighbours far and near.
Good gods! 'tis like a rolling river,
That murmuring flows, and flows for ever!
_10
Ne'er tired, perpetual discord sowing!
Like fame, it gathers strength by going.'
'Heyday!' the flippant tongue replies,
How solemn is the fool, how wise!
Is nature's choicest gift debarred?
Nay, frown not; for I will be heard.
Women of late are finely ridden,
A parrot's privilege forbidden!
You praise his talk, his squalling song;
But wives are always in the wrong.'
_20
Now reputations flew in pieces,
Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces.
She ran the parrot's language o'er,
Bawd, hussy, drunkard, slattern, whore;
On all the sex she vents her fury,
Tries and condemns without a jury.
At once the torrent of her words
Alarmed cat, monkey, dogs, and birds:
All join their forces to confound her;
Puss spits, the monkey chatters round her;
_30
The yelping cur her heels assaults;
The magpie blabs out all her faults;
Poll, in the uproar, from his cage,
With this rebuke out-screamed her rage:
'A parrot is for talking prized,
But prattling women are despised.
She who attacks another's honour,
Draws every living thing upon her.
Think, madam, when you stretch your lungs,
That all your neighbours too have tongues.
_40
One slander must ten thousand get,
The world with interest pays the debt.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXVI.
THE CUR AND THE MASTIFF.
A sneaking cur, the master's spy,
Rewarded for his daily lie,
With secret jealousies and fears
Set all together by the ears.
Poor puss to-day was in disgrace,
Another cat supplied her place;
The hound was beat, the mastiff chid,
The monkey was the room forbid;
Each to his dearest friend grew shy,
And none could tell the reason why.
_10
A plan to rob the house was laid,
The thief with love seduced the maid;
Cajoled the cur, and stroked his head,
And bought his secrecy with bread.
He next the mastiff's honour tried,
Whose honest jaws the bribe defied.
He stretched his hand to proffer more;
The surly dog his fingers tore.
Swift ran the cur; with indignation
The master took his information.
_20
'Hang him, the villain's cursed,' he cries;
And round his neck the halter ties.
The dog his humble suit preferred,
And begged in justice to be heard.
The master sat. On either hand
The cited dogs confronting stand;
The cur the bloody tale relates,
And, like a lawyer, aggravates.
'Judge not unheard,' the mastiff cried,
'But weigh the cause on either side.
_30
Think not that treachery can be just,
Take not informers' words on trust.
They ope their hand to every pay,
And you and me by turns betray.'
He spoke. And all the truth appeared,
The cur was hanged, the mastiff cleared.
* * * * *
FABLE XXVII.
THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.
'Is there no hope?' the sick man said.
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his leave with signs of sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.
When thus the man with gasping breath;
'I feel the chilling wound of death:
Since I must bid the world adieu,
Let me my former life review.
I grant, my bargains well were made,
But all men over-reach in trade;
_10
'Tis self-defence in each profession,
Sure self-defence is no transgression.
The little portion in my hands,
By good security on lands,
Is well increased. If unawares,
My justice to myself and heirs,
Hath let my debtor rot in jail,
For want of good sufficient bail;
If I by writ, or bond, or deed,
Reduced a family to need,
_20
My will hath made the world amends;
My hope on charity depends.
When I am numbered with the dead,
And all my pious gifts are read,
By heaven and earth 'twill then be known
My charities were amply shown'
An angel came. 'Ah, friend!' he cried,
'No more in flattering hope confide.
Can thy good deeds in former times
Outweigh the balance of thy crimes?
_30
What widow or what orphan prays
To crown thy life with length of days?
A pious action's in thy power,
Embrace with joy the happy hour.
Now, while you draw the vital air,
Prove your intention is sincere.
This instant give a hundred pound;
Your neighbours want, and you abound.'
'But why such haste?' the sick man whines;
'Who knows as yet what Heaven designs?
_40
Perhaps I may recover still;
That sum and more are in my will?
'Fool,' says the vision, 'now 'tis plain,
Your life, your soul, your heaven was gain,
From every side, with all your might,
You scraped, and scraped beyond your right;
And after death would fain atone,
By giving what is not your own.'
'While there is life, there's hope,' he cried;
'Then why such haste?' so groaned and died.
_50
* * * * *
FABLE XXVIII.
THE PERSIAN, THE SUN, AND THE CLOUD.
Is there a bard whom genius fires,
Whose every thought the god inspires?
When Envy reads the nervous lines,
She frets, she rails, she raves, she pines;
Her hissing snakes with venom swell;
She calls her venal train from hell:
The servile fiends her nod obey,
And all Curl's[4] authors are in pay,
Fame calls up calumny and spite.
Thus shadow owes its birth to light.
_10
As prostrate to the god of day,
With heart devout, a Persian lay,
His invocation thus begun:
'Parent of light, all-seeing Sun,
Prolific beam, whose rays dispense
The various gifts of providence,
Accept our praise, our daily prayer,
Smile on our fields, and bless the year.'
A cloud, who mocked his grateful tongue,
The day with sudden darkness hung;
_20
With pride and envy swelled, aloud
A voice thus thundered from the cloud:
'Weak is this gaudy god of thine,
Whom I at will forbid to shine.
Shall I nor vows, nor incense know?
Where praise is due, the praise bestow.'
With fervent zeal the Persian moved,
Thus the proud calumny reproved:
'It was that god, who claims my prayer,
Who gave thee birth, and raised thee there;
_30
When o'er his beams the veil is thrown,
Thy substance is but plainer shown.
A passing gale, a puff of wind
Dispels thy thickest troops combined.'
The gale arose; the vapour toss'd
(The sport of winds) in air was lost;
The glorious orb the day refines.
Thus envy breaks, thus merit shines.
* * * * *
FABLE XXIX.
THE FOX AT THE POINT OF DEATH.
A fox, in life's extreme decay,
Weak, sick, and faint, expiring lay;
All appetite had left his maw,
And age disarmed his mumbling jaw.
His numerous race around him stand
To learn their dying sire's command:
He raised his head with whining moan,
And thus was heard the feeble tone:
'Ah, sons! from evil ways depart:
My crimes lie heavy on my heart.
_10
See, see, the murdered geese appear!
Why are those bleeding turkeys here?
Why all around this cackling train,
Who haunt my ears for chicken slain?
The hungry foxes round them stared,
And for the promised feast prepared.
'Where, sir, is all this dainty cheer?
Nor turkey, goose, nor hen is here.
These are the phantoms of your brain,
And your sons lick their lips in vain.'
_20
'O gluttons!' says the drooping sire,
'Restrain inordinate desire.
Your liqu'rish taste you shall deplore,
When peace of conscience is no more.
Does not the hound betray our pace,
And gins and guns destroy our race?
Thieves dread the searching eye of power,
And never feel the quiet hour.
Old age (which few of us shall know)
Now puts a period to my woe.
_30
Would you true happiness attain,
Let honesty your passions rein;
So live in credit and esteem,
And the good name you lost, redeem.'
'The counsel's good,' a fox replies,
'Could we perform what you advise.
Think what our ancestors have done;
A line of thieves from son to son:
To us descends the long disgrace,
And infamy hath marked our race.
_40
Though we, like harmless sheep, should feed,
Honest in thought, in word, and deed;
Whatever henroost is decreased,
We shall be thought to share the feast.
The change shall never be believed,
A lost good name is ne'er retrieved.'
'Nay, then,' replies the feeble fox,
'(But hark! I hear a hen that clocks)
Go, but be moderate in your food;
A chicken too might do me good.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXX.
THE SETTING-DOG AND THE PARTRIDGE.
The ranging dog the stubble tries,
And searches every breeze that flies;
The scent grows warm; with cautious fear
He creeps, and points the covey near;
The men, in silence, far behind,
Conscious of game, the net unbind.
A partridge, with experience wise,
The fraudful preparation spies:
She mocks their toils, alarms her brood;
The covey springs, and seeks the wood;
_10
But ere her certain wing she tries,
Thus to the creeping spaniel cries:
'Thou fawning slave to man's deceit,
Thou pimp of luxury, sneaking cheat,
Of thy whole species thou disgrace,
Dogs shall disown thee of their race!
For if I judge their native parts,
They're born with open, honest hearts;
And, ere they serve man's wicked ends,
Were generous foes, or real friends.'
_20
When thus the dog, with scornful smile:
'Secure of wing, thou dar'st revile.
Clowns are to polished manners blind,
How ignorant is the rustic mind!
My worth, sagacious courtiers see,
And to preferment rise, like me.
The thriving pimp, who beauty sets,
Hath oft enhanced a nation's debts:
Friend sets his friend, without regard;
And ministers his skill reward:
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Thus trained by man, I learnt his ways,
And growing favour feasts my days.'
'I might have guessed,' the partridge said,
'The place where you were trained and fed;
Servants are apt, and in a trice
Ape to a hair their master's vice.
You came from court, you say. Adieu,'
She said, and to the covey flew.
* * * * *
FABLE XXXI.
THE UNIVERSAL APPARITION.
A rake, by every passion ruled,
With every vice his youth had cooled;
Disease his tainted blood assails;
His spirits droop, his vigour fails;
With secret ills at home he pines,
And, like infirm old age, declines.
As, twinged with pain, he pensive sits,
And raves, and prays, and swears by fits,
A ghastly phantom, lean and wan,
Before him rose, and thus began:
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'My name, perhaps, hath reached your ear;
Attend, and be advised by Care.
Nor love, nor honour, wealth, nor power,
Can give the heart a cheerful hour,
When health is lost. Be timely wise:
With health all taste of pleasure flies.'
Thus said, the phantom disappears.
The wary counsel waked his fears:
He now from all excess abstains,
With physic purifies his veins;
_20
And, to procure a sober life,
Resolves to venture on a wife.
But now again the sprite ascends,
Where'er he walks his ear attends;
Insinuates that beauty's frail,
That perseverance must prevail;
With jealousies his brain inflames,
And whispers all her lovers' names.
In other hours she represents
His household charge, his annual rents,
_30
Increasing debts, perplexing duns,
And nothing for his younger sons.
Straight all his thought to gain he turns,
And with the thirst of lucre burns.
But when possessed of fortune's store,
The spectre haunts him more and more;
Sets want and misery in view,
Bold thieves, and all the murd'ring crew,
Alarms him with eternal frights,
Infests his dream, or wakes his nights.
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How shall he chase this hideous guest?
Power may perhaps protect his rest.
To power he rose. Again the sprite
Besets him, morning, noon, and night!
Talks of ambition's tottering seat,
How envy persecutes the great,
Of rival hate, of treacherous friends,
And what disgrace his fall attends.
The Court he quits to fly from Care,
And seeks the peace of rural air:
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His groves, his fields, amused his hours;
He pruned his trees, he raised his flowers.
But Care again his steps pursues;
Warns him of blasts, of blighting dews,
Of plund'ring insects, snails, and rains,
And droughts that starved the laboured plains.
Abroad, at home, the spectre's there:
In vain we seek to fly from Care.
At length he thus the ghost address'd:
'Since thou must be my constant guest,
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Be kind, and follow me no more;
For Care by right should go before.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXXII.
THE TWO OWLS AND THE SPARROW.
Two formal owls together sat,
Conferring thus in solemn chat:
'How is the modern taste decayed!
Where's the respect to wisdom paid?
Our worth the Grecian sages knew;
They gave our sires the honour due;
They weighed the dignity of fowls,
And pried into the depth of owls.
Athens, the seat of learned fame,
With general voice revered our name;
_10
On merit, title was conferred,
And all adored the Athenian bird.'
'Brother, you reason well,' replies
The solemn mate, with half-shut eyes;
'Right. Athens was the seat of learning,
And truly wisdom is discerning.
Besides, on Pallas' helm we sit,
The type and ornament of wit:
But now, alas! we're quite neglected,
And a pert sparrow's more respected.'
_20
A sparrow, who was lodged beside,
O'erhears them soothe each other's pride,
And thus he nimbly vents his heat:
'Who meets a fool must find conceit.
I grant, you were at Athens graced,
And on Minerva's helm were placed;
But every bird that wings the sky,
Except an owl, can tell you why.
From hence they taught their schools to know
How false we judge by outward show;
_30
That we should never looks esteem,
Since fools as wise as you might seem.
Would ye contempt and scorn avoid,
Let your vain-glory be destroyed:
Humble your arrogance of thought,
Pursue the ways by Nature taught;
So shall you find delicious fare,
And grateful farmers praise your care:
So shall sleek mice your chase reward,
And no keen cat find more regard.'
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* * * * *
FABLE XXXIII.
THE COURTIER AND PROTEUS.
Whene'er a courtier's out of place
The country shelters his disgrace;
Where, doomed to exercise and health,
His house and gardens own his wealth,
He builds new schemes in hopes to gain
The plunder of another reign;
Like Philip's son, would fain be doing,
And sighs for other realms to ruin.
As one of these (without his wand)
Pensive, along the winding strand
_10
Employed the solitary hour,
In projects to regain his power;
The waves in spreading circles ran,
Proteus arose, and thus began:
'Came you from Court? For in your mien
A self-important air is seen.
He frankly owned his friends had tricked him
And how he fell his party's victim.
'Know,' says the god, 'by matchless skill
I change to every shape at will;
_20
But yet I'm told, at Court you see
Those who presume to rival me.'
Thus said. A snake with hideous trail,
Proteus extends his scaly mail.
'Know,' says the man, 'though proud in place,
All courtiers are of reptile race.
Like you, they take that dreadful form,
Bask in the sun, and fly the storm;
With malice hiss, with envy gloat,
And for convenience change their coat;
_30
With new-got lustre rear their head,
Though on a dunghill born and bred.'
Sudden the god a lion stands;
He shakes his mane, he spurns the sands;
Now a fierce lynx, with fiery glare,
A wolf, an ass, a fox, a bear.
'Had I ne'er lived at Court,' he cries,
'Such transformation might surprise;
But there, in quest of daily game,
Each able courtier acts the same.
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Wolves, lions, lynxes, while in place,
Their friends and fellows are their chase.
They play the bear's and fox's part;
Now rob by force, now steal with art.
They sometimes in the senate bray;
Or, changed again to beasts of prey,
Down from the lion to the ape,
Practise the frauds of every shape.'
So said, upon the god he flies,
In cords the struggling captive ties.
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'Now, Proteus, now, (to truth compelled)
Speak, and confess thy art excelled.
Use strength, surprise, or what you will,
The courtier finds evasions still:
Not to be bound by any ties,
And never forced to leave his lies.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXXIV.
THE MASTIFFS.
Those who in quarrels interpose,
Must often wipe a bloody nose.
A mastiff, of true English blood,
Loved fighting better than his food.
When dogs were snarling for a bone,
He longed to make the war his own,
And often found (when two contend)
To interpose obtained his end;
He gloried in his limping pace;
The scars of honour seamed his face;
_10
In every limb a gash appears,
And frequent fights retrenched his ears.
As, on a time, he heard from far
Two dogs engaged in noisy war,
Away he scours and lays about him,
Resolved no fray should be without him.
Forth from his yard a tanner flies,
And to the bold intruder cries:
'A cudgel shall correct your manners,
Whence sprung this cursed hate to tanners?
_20
While on my dog you vent your spite,
Sirrah! 'tis me you dare not bite.'
To see the battle thus perplexed,
With equal rage a butcher vexed,
Hoarse-screaming from the circled crowd,
To the cursed mastiff cries aloud:
'Both Hockley-hole and Mary-bone
The combats of my dog have known.
He ne'er, like bullies coward-hearted,
Attacks in public, to be parted.
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Think not, rash fool, to share his fame:
Be his the honour, or the shame.'
Thus said, they swore, and raved like thunder;
Then dragged their fastened dogs asunder;
While clubs and kicks from every side
Rebounded from the mastiff's hide.
All reeking now with sweat and blood,
Awhile the parted warriors stood,
Then poured upon the meddling foe;
Who, worried, howled and sprawled below.
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He rose; and limping from the fray,
By both sides mangled, sneaked away.
* * * * *
FABLE XXXV.
THE BARLEY-MOW AND THE DUNGHILL.
How many saucy airs we meet
From Temple Bar to Aldgate Street!
Proud rogues, who shared the South-Sea prey,
And sprung like mushrooms in a day!
They think it mean, to condescend
To know a brother or a friend;
They blush to hear their mother's name,
And by their pride expose their shame.
As cross his yard, at early day,
A careful farmer took his way,
_10
He stopped, and leaning on his fork,
Observed the flail's incessant work.
In thought he measured all his store,
His geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er;
In fancy weighed the fleeces shorn,
And multiplied the next year's corn.
A Barley-mow, which stood beside,
Thus to its musing master cried:
'Say, good sir, is it fit or right
To treat me with neglect and slight?
_20
Me, who contribute to your cheer,
And raise your mirth with ale and beer?
Why thus insulted, thus disgraced,
And that vile dunghill near me placed?
Are those poor sweepings of a groom,
That filthy sight, that nauseous fume,
Meet objects here? Command it hence:
A thing so mean must give offence'
The humble dunghill thus replied:
'Thy master hears, and mocks thy pride:
_30
Insult not thus the meek and low;
In me thy benefactor know;
My warm assistance gave thee birth,
Or thou hadst perished low in earth;
But upstarts, to support their station,
Cancel at once all obligation.'
* * * * *
FABLE XXXVI.
PYTHAGORAS AND THE COUNTRYMAN.
Pythag'ras rose at early dawn,
By soaring meditation drawn,
To breathe the fragrance of the day,
Through flowery fields he took his way.
In musing contemplation warm,
His steps misled him to a farm,
Where, on the ladder's topmost round,
A peasant stood; the hammer's sound
Shook the weak barn. 'Say, friend, what care
Calls for thy honest labour there?'
_10
The clown, with surly voice replies,
'Vengeance aloud for justice cries.
This kite, by daily rapine fed,
My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread,
At length his forfeit life has paid;
See on the wall his wings displayed,
Here nailed, a terror to his kind,
My fowls shall future safety find;
My yard the thriving poultry feed,
And my barn's refuse fat the breed.'
_20
'Friend,' says the sage, 'the doom is wise;
For public good the murderer dies.
But if these tyrants of the air
Demand a sentence so severe,
Think how the glutton man devours;
What bloody feasts regale his hours!
O impudence of power and might,
Thus to condemn a hawk or kite,
When thou, perhaps, carniv'rous sinner,
Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!'
_30
'Hold,' cried the clown, with passion heated,
'Shall kites and men alike be treated?
When Heaven the world with creatures stored,
Man was ordained their sovereign lord.'
'Thus tyrants boast,' the sage replied,
'Whose murders spring from power and pride.
Own then this man-like kite is slain
Thy greater luxury to sustain;
For "Petty rogues submit to fate,
That great ones may enjoy their state."'[5]
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