FABLE XVI.

THE RAVENS, THE SEXTON, AND THE EARTH-WORM.

TO LAURA.

Laura, methinks you're over nice.
True, flattery is a shocking vice;
Yet sure, whene'er the praise is just,
One may commend without disgust.
Am I a privilege denied,
Indulged by every tongue beside?
How singular are all your ways!
A woman, and averse to praise!
If 'tis offence such truths to tell,
Why do your merits thus excel?
_10
Since then I dare not speak my mind,
A truth conspicuous to mankind;
Though in full lustre every grace
Distinguish your celestial face:
Though beauties of inferior ray
(Like stars before the orb of day)
Turn pale and fade: I check my lays,
Admiring what I dare not praise.
If you the tribute due disdain,
The Muse's mortifying strain
_20
Shall like a woman in mere spite,
Set beauty in a moral light.
Though such revenge might shock the ear
Of many a celebrated fair;
I mean that superficial race
Whose thoughts ne'er reach beyond their face;
What's that to you? I but displease
Such ever-girlish ears as these.
Virtue can brook the thoughts of age,
That lasts the same through every stage.
_30
Though you by time must suffer more
Than ever woman lost before;
To age is such indifference shown,
As if your face were not your own.
Were you by Antoninus[1] taught?
Or is it native strength of thought,
That thus, without concern or fright,
You view yourself by reason's light?
Those eyes of so divine a ray,
What are they? Mouldering, mortal clay.
_40
Those features, cast in heavenly mould,
Shall, like my coarser earth, grow old;
Like common grass, the fairest flower
Must feel the hoary season's power.
How weak, how vain is human pride!
Dares man upon himself confide?
The wretch who glories in his gain,
Amasses heaps on heaps in vain.
Why lose we life in anxious cares,
To lay in hoards for future years?
_50
Can those (when tortured by disease)
Cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease?
Can those prolong one gasp of breath,
Or calm the troubled hour of death?
What's beauty? Call ye that your own?
A flower that fades as soon as blown.
What's man in all his boast of sway?
Perhaps the tyrant of a day.
Alike the laws of life take place
Through every branch of human race,
_60
The monarch of long regal line
Was raised from dust as frail as mine.
Can he pour health into his veins,
Or cool the fever's restless pains?
Can he (worn down in Nature's course)
New-brace his feeble nerves with force?
Can he (how vain is mortal power!)
Stretch life beyond the destined hour?
Consider, man; weigh well thy frame;
The king, the beggar is the same.
_70
Dust forms us all. Each breathes his day,
Then sinks into his native clay.
Beneath a venerable yew,
That in the lonely church-yard grew,
Two ravens sat. In solemn croak
Thus one his hungry friend bespoke:
'Methinks I scent some rich repast;
The savour strengthens with the blast;
Snuff then, the promised feast inhale;
I taste the carcase in the gale;
_80
Near yonder trees, the farmer's steed,
From toil and daily drudgery freed,
Hath groaned his last. A dainty treat!
To birds of taste delicious meat.'
A sexton, busy at his trade,
To hear their chat suspends his spade.
Death struck him with no further thought,
Than merely as the fees he brought.
'Was ever two such blundering fowls,
In brains and manners less than owls!
_90
Blockheads,' says he, 'learn more respect;
Know ye on whom ye thus reflect?
In this same grave (who does me right,
Must own the work is strong and tight)
The squire that yon fair hall possessed,
Tonight shall lay his bones at rest.
Whence could the gross mistake proceed?
The squire was somewhat fat indeed.
What then? The meanest bird of prey
Such want of sense could ne'er betray;
_100
For sure some difference must be found
(Suppose the smelling organ sound)
In carcases (say what we can)
Or where's the dignity of man?'
With due respect to human race,
The ravens undertook the case.
In such similitude of scent,
Man ne'er eould think reflections meant.
As epicures extol a treat,
And seem their savoury words to eat,
_110
They praised dead horse, luxurious food,
The venison of the prescient brood.
The sexton's indignation moved,
The mean comparison reproved;
The undiscerning palate blamed,
Which two-legged carrion thus defamed.
Reproachful speech from either side
The want of argument supplied:
They rail, revile: as often ends
The contest of disputing friends.
_120
'Hold,' says the fowl; 'since human pride
With confutation ne'er complied,
Let's state the case, and then refer
The knotty point: for taste may err.'
As thus he spoke, from out the mould
An earth-worm, huge of size, unrolled
His monstrous length. They straight agree
To choose him as their referee.
So to the experience of his jaws,
Each states the merits of his cause.
_130
He paused, and with a solemn tone,
Thus made his sage opinion known:
'On carcases of every kind
This maw hath elegantly dined;
Provoked by luxury or need,
On beast, on fowl, on man, I feed;
Such small distinctions in the savour,
By turns I choose the fancied flavour,
Yet I must own (that human beast)
A glutton is the rankest feast.
_140
Man, cease this boast; for human pride
Hath various tracts to range beside.
The prince who kept the world in awe,
The judge whose dictate fixed the law,
The rich, the poor, the great, the small,
Are levelled. Death confounds them all.
Then think not that we reptiles share
Such cates, such elegance of fair:
The only true and real good
Of man was never vermin's food.
_150
'Tis seated in the immortal mind;
Virtue distinguishes mankind,
And that (as yet ne'er harboured here)
Mounts with his soul we know not where.
So, good man sexton, since the case
Appears with such a dubious face,
To neither I the cause determine,
For different tastes please different vermin.'

END OF GAY'S FABLES.

SONGS.

SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN.

All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eye'd Susan came aboard.
Oh! where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true,
If my sweet William sails among the crew.

William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below;
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high poised in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
(If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,)
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.

O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind.
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.

If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return.
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread;
No longer must she stay aboard:
They kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land:
Adieu! she cries; and waved her lily hand.

* * * * *

A BALLAD,

FROM THE WHAT-D'YE-CALL-IT.

'Twas when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind;
A damsel lay deploring,
All on a rock reclined.
Wide o'er the foaming billows
She casts a wistful look;
Her head was crown'd with willows,
That trembled o'er the brook.

Twelve months are gone and over,
And nine long tedious days.
Why didst thou, venturous lover,
Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean,
And let my lover rest:
Ah! what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant, robb'd of pleasure,
Sees tempests in despair:
But what's the loss of treasure,
To losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on,
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You'd find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.

How can they say that nature
Has nothing made in vain;
Why then beneath the water
Should hideous rocks remain?
No eyes the rocks discover,
That lurk beneath the deep,
To wreck the wandering lover,
And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying,
Thus wail'd she for her dear;
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o'er the white wave stooping,
His floating corpse she spied;
Then, like a lily drooping,
She bow'd her head, and died.

END OF GAY'S SONGS.

Footnotes:

[Footnote 1: Second son of George II.; born in 1721; he was five years old at the date of the publication of the 'Fables,' which were written for his instruction. He is 'Culloden' Cumberland.]

[Footnote 2: 'Siam,' a country famous for elephants.]

[Footnote 3: 'Gresham Hall,' originally the house of Sir Thomas Gresham in Winchester. It was converted by his will into a college, no remains of which now exist.]

[Footnote 4: 'Curl,' a famous publisher to Grub Street.]

[Footnote 5: Garth's Dispensary.]

[Footnote 6: 'Porta:' a native of Naples, famous for skill in the occult sciences. He wrote a book on Physiognomy, seeking to trace in the human face resemblances to animals, and to infer similar correspondences in mind.]

[Footnote 7: '——When impious men bear sway,
The post of honour is a private station.'-ADDISON.]

[Footnote 8: 'Antiochus': See Plutarch.]

[Footnote 9: Barrow.]

[Footnote 10: 'The Macedonian:' Alexander the Great.]

[Footnote 11: 'Corelli:' Arcangelo, the greatest fiddler, till Paganini, that has appeared. He was born in the territory of Bologna, in 1653, and died in 1713.]

[Footnote 12: 'Antoninus:' Marcus, one of the few emperors who have been also philosophers.]