FABLE XXXVII.
THE FARMER'S WIFE AND THE RAVEN.
'Why are those tears? why droops your head?
Is then your other husband dead?
Or does a worse disgrace betide?
Hath no one since his death applied?'
'Alas! you know the cause too well:
The salt is spilt, to me it fell.
Then, to contribute to my loss,
My knife and fork were laid across;
On Friday too! the day I dread!
Would I were safe at home in bed!
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Last night (I vow to heaven 'tis true)
Bounce from the fire a coffin flew.
Next post some fatal news shall tell,
God send my Cornish friends be well!'
'Unhappy widow, cease thy tears,
Nor feel affliction in thy fears,
Let not thy stomach be suspended;
Eat now, and weep when dinner's ended;
And when the butler clears the table,
For thy desert, I'll read my fable.'
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Betwixt her swagging panniers' load
A farmer's wife to market rode,
And, jogging on, with thoughtful care
Summed up the profits of her ware;
When, starting from her silver dream,
Thus far and wide was heard her scream:
'That raven on yon left-hand oak
(Curse on his ill-betiding croak)
Bodes me no good.' No more she said,
When poor blind Ball, with stumbling tread,
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Fell prone; o'erturned the pannier lay,
And her mashed eggs bestrewed the way.
She, sprawling in the yellow road,
Railed, swore and cursed: 'Thou croaking toad,
A murrain take thy whoreson throat!
I knew misfortune in the note.'
'Dame,' quoth the raven, 'spare your oaths,
Unclench your fist, and wipe your clothes.
But why on me those curses thrown?
Goody, the fault was all your own;
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For had you laid this brittle ware,
On Dun, the old sure-footed mare,
Though all the ravens of the hundred,
With croaking had your tongue out-thundered,
Sure-footed Dun had kept his legs,
And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'
FABLE XXXVIII.
THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.
In other men we faults can spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye,
Each little speck and blemish find,
To our own stronger errors blind.
A turkey, tired of common food,
Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;
Behind her ran her infant train,
Collecting here and there a grain.
'Draw near, my birds,' the mother cries,
'This hill delicious fare supplies;
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Behold, the busy negro race,
See, millions blacken all the place!
Fear not. Like me with freedom eat;
An ant is most delightful meat.
How bless'd, how envied were our life,
Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, cursed man, on turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days:
Sometimes with oysters we combine,
Sometimes assist the savoury chine.
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From the low peasant to the lord,
The turkey smokes on every board.
Sure men for gluttony are cursed,
Of the seven deadly sins the worst.'
An ant, who climbed beyond his reach,
Thus answered from the neighbouring beech:
'Ere you remark another's sin, 27
Bid thy own conscience look within;
Control thy more voracious bill,
Nor for a breakfast nations kill.'
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* * * * *
FABLE XXXIX.
THE FATHER AND JUPITER.
The man to Jove his suit preferred;
He begged a wife. His prayer was heard,
Jove wondered at his bold addressing:
For how precarious is the blessing!
A wife he takes. And now for heirs
Again he worries heaven with prayers.
Jove nods assent. Two hopeful boys
And a fine girl reward his joys.
Now, more solicitous he grew,
And set their future lives in view;
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He saw that all respect and duty
Were paid to wealth, to power, and beauty.
'Once more,' he cries, 'accept my prayer;
Make my loved progeny thy care.
Let my first hope, my favourite boy,
All fortune's richest gifts enjoy.
My next with strong ambition fire:
May favour teach him to aspire;
Till he the step of power ascend,
And courtiers to their idol bend.
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With every grace, with every charm,
My daughter's perfect features arm.
If heaven approve, a father's bless'd.'
Jove smiles, and grants his full request.
The first, a miser at the heart,
Studious of every griping art,
Heaps hoards on hoards with anxious pain;
And all his life devotes to gain.
He feels no joy, his cares increase,
He neither wakes nor sleeps in peace;
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In fancied want (a wretch complete)
He starves, and yet he dares not eat.
The next to sudden honours grew:
The thriving art of Courts he knew:
He reached the height of power and place;
Then fell, the victim of disgrace.
Beauty with early bloom supplies
His daughter's cheek, and points her eyes.
The vain coquette each suit disdains,
And glories in her lover's pains.
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With age she fades, each lover flies;
Contemned, forlorn, she pines and dies.
When Jove the father's grief surveyed,
And heard him Heaven and Fate upbraid,
Thus spoke the god: 'By outward show,
Men judge of happiness and woe:
Shall ignorance of good and ill
Dare to direct the eternal will?
Seek virtue; and, of that possess'd,
To Providence resign the rest'
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