Have you a friend (look round and spy)
So fond, so prepossessed as I?
Your faults, so obvious to mankind,
My partial eyes could never find.
When by the breath of fortune blown,
Your airy castles were o'erthrown;
Have I been over-prone to blame,
Or mortified your hours with shame?
Was I e'er known to damp your spirit,
Or twit you with the want of merit?
_10
'Tis not so strange, that Fortune's frown
Still perseveres to keep you down.
Look round, and see what others do.
Would you be rich and honest too?
Have you (like those she raised to place)
Been opportunely mean and base?
Have you (as times required) resigned
Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind?
If these are scruples, give her o'er;
Write, practise morals, and be poor.
_20
The gifts of fortune truly rate;
Then tell me what would mend your state.
If happiness on wealth were built,
Rich rogues might comfort find in guilt;
As grows the miser's hoarded store,
His fears, his wants, increase the more.
Think, Gay, (what ne'er may be the case,)
Should fortune take you into grace,
Would that your happiness augment?
What can she give beyond content?
_30
Suppose yourself a wealthy heir,
With a vast annual income clear!
In all the affluence you possess,
You might not feel one care the less.
Might you not then (like others) find
With change of fortune, change of mind?
Perhaps, profuse beyond all rule,
You might start out a glaring fool;
Your luxury might break all bounds;
Plate, table, horses, stewards, hounds,
_40
Might swell your debts: then, lust of play
No regal income can defray.
Sunk is all credit, writs assail,
And doom your future life to jail.
Or were you dignified with power,
Would that avert one pensive hour?
You might give avarice its swing,
Defraud a nation, blind a king:
Then, from the hirelings in your cause,
Though daily fed with false applause,
_50
Could it a real joy impart?
Great guilt knew never joy at heart.
Is happiness your point in view?
(I mean the intrinsic and the true)
She nor in camps or courts resides,
Nor in the humble cottage hides;
Yet found alike in every sphere;
Who finds content, will find her there.
O'erspent with toil, beneath the shade,
A peasant rested on his spade.
_60
'Good gods!' he cries, ''tis hard to bear
This load of life from year to year.
Soon as the morning streaks the skies,
Industrious labour bids me rise;
With sweat I earn my homely fare,
And every day renews my care.'
Jove heard the discontented strain,
And thus rebuked the murmuring swain:
'Speak out your wants then, honest friend:
Unjust complaints the gods offend.
_70
If you repine at partial fate,
Instruct me what could mend your state.
Mankind in every station see.
What wish you? Tell me what you'd be.'
So said, upborne upon a cloud,
The clown surveyed the anxious crowd.
'Yon face of care,' says Jove, 'behold,
His bulky bags are filled with gold.
See with what joy he counts it o'er!
That sum to-day hath swelled his store.'
_80
'Were I that man,' the peasant cried,
'What blessing could I ask beside?'
'Hold,' says the god; 'first learn to know
True happiness from outward show.
This optic glass of intuition——
Here, take it, view his true condition.'
He looked, and saw the miser's breast,
A troubled ocean, ne'er at rest;
Want ever stares him in the face,
And fear anticipates disgrace:
_90
With conscious guilt he saw him start;
Extortion gnaws his throbbing heart;
And never, or in thought or dream,
His breast admits one happy gleam.
'May Jove,' he cries, 'reject my prayer,
And guard my life from guilt and care.
My soul abhors that wretch's fate.
O keep me in my humble state!
But see, amidst a gaudy crowd,
Yon minister, so gay and proud,
_100
On him what happiness attends,
Who thus rewards his grateful friends!'
'First take the glass,' the god replies:
'Man views the world with partial eyes.'
'Good gods!' exclaims the startled wight,
'Defend me from this hideous sight!
Corruption, with corrosive smart,
Lies cankering on his guilty heart:
I see him, with polluted hand,
Spread the contagion o'er the land,
_110
Now avarice with insatiate jaws,
Now rapine with her harpy claws
His bosom tears. His conscious breast
Groans, with a load of crimes oppress'd.
See him, mad and drunk with power,
Stand tottering on ambition's tower.
Sometimes, in speeches vain and proud,
His boasts insult the nether crowd;
Now, seized with giddiness and fear,
He trembles lest his fall is near.
_120
'Was ever wretch like this?' he cries;
'Such misery in such disguise!
The change, O Jove, I disavow;
Still be my lot the spade and plough.'
He next, confirmed by speculation,
Rejects the lawyer's occupation;
For he the statesman seemed in part,
And bore similitude of heart.
Nor did the soldier's trade inflame
His hopes with thirst of spoil and fame,
_130
The miseries of war he mourned;
Whole nations into deserts turned.
By these have laws and rights been braved;
By these were free-born men enslaved:
When battles and invasion cease,
Why swarm they in a land of peace?
'Such change,' says he, 'may I decline;
The scythe and civil arms be mine!'
Thus, weighing life in each condition,
The clown withdrew his rash petition.
_140
When thus the god: 'How mortals err!
If you true happiness prefer,
'Tis to no rank of life confined,
But dwells in every honest mind.
Be justice then your sole pursuit:
Plant virtue, and content's the fruit.'
So Jove, to gratify the clown,
Where first he found him set him down.
* * * * *
FABLE VIII.
THE MAN, THE CAT, THE DOG, AND THE FLY.
TO MY NATIVE COUNTRY.
Hail, happy land, whose fertile grounds
The liquid fence of Neptune bounds;
By bounteous Nature set apart,
The seat of industry and art!
O Britain! chosen port of trade,
May luxury ne'er thy sons invade;
May never minister (intent
His private treasures to augment)
Corrupt thy state. If jealous foes
Thy rights of commerce dare oppose,
_10
Shall not thy fleets their rapine awe?
Who is't prescribes the ocean law?
Whenever neighbouring states contend,
'Tis thine to be the general friend.
What is't, who rules in other lands?
On trade alone thy glory stands.
That benefit is unconfined,
Diffusing good among mankind:
That first gave lustre to thy reigns,
And scattered plenty o'er thy plains:
_20
'Tis that alone thy wealth supplies,
And draws all Europe's envious eyes.
Be commerce then thy sole design;
Keep that, and all the world is thine.
When naval traffic ploughs the main,
Who shares not in the merchant's gain?
'Tis that supports the regal state,
And makes the farmer's heart elate:
The numerous flocks, that clothe the land,
Can scarce supply the loom's demand;
_30
Prolific culture glads the fields,
And the bare heath a harvest yields.
Nature expects mankind should share
The duties of the public care.
Who's born for sloth?[9] To some we find
The ploughshare's annual toil assign'd.
Some at the sounding anvil glow;
Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw;
Some, studious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole our commerce guide:
_40
Some (taught by industry) impart
With hands and feet the works of art;
While some, of genius more refined,
With head and tongue assist mankind:
Each, aiming at one common end,
Proves to the whole a needful friend.
Thus, born each other's useful aid,
By turns are obligations paid.
The monarch, when his table's spread,
Is to the clown obliged for bread;
_50
And when in all his glory dress'd,
Owes to the loom his royal vest.
Do not the mason's toil and care
Protect him from the inclement air?
Does not the cutler's art supply
The ornament that guards his thigh?
All these, in duty to the throne,
Their common obligations own.
'Tis he (his own and people's cause)
Protects their properties and laws.
_60
Thus they their honest toil employ,
And with content their fruits enjoy.
In every rank, or great or small,
'Tis industry supports us all.
The animals by want oppressed,
To man their services addressed;
While each pursued their selfish good,
They hungered for precarious food.
Their hours with anxious cares were vex'd;
One day they fed, and starved the next.
_70
They saw that plenty, sure and rife,
Was found alone in social life;
That mutual industry professed,
The various wants of man redressed.
The cat, half-famished, lean and weak,
Demands the privilege to speak.
'Well, puss,' says man, 'and what can you
To benefit the public do?'
The cat replies: 'These teeth, these claws,
With vigilance shall serve the cause.
_80
The mouse destroyed by my pursuit,
No longer shall your feasts pollute;
Nor rats, from nightly ambuscade,
With wasteful teeth your stores invade.'
'I grant,' says man, 'to general use
Your parts and talents may conduce;
For rats and mice purloin our grain,
And threshers whirl the flail in vain:
Thus shall the cat, a foe to spoil,
Protect the farmer's honest toil,'
_90
Then, turning to the dog, he cried,
'Well, sir; be next your merits tried.'
'Sir,' says the dog, 'by self-applause
We seem to own a friendless cause.
Ask those who know me, if distrust
E'er found me treacherous or unjust?
Did I e'er faith or friendship break?
Ask all those creatures; let them speak.
My vigilance and trusty zeal
Perhaps might serve the public weal.
_100
Might not your flocks in safety feed,
Were I to guard the fleecy breed?
Did I the nightly watches keep,
Could thieves invade you while you sleep?'
The man replies: ''Tis just and right;
Rewards such service should requite.
So rare, in property, we find
Trust uncorrupt among mankind,
That, taken, in a public view,
The first distinction is your due.
_110
Such merits all reward transcend:
Be then my comrade and my friend.'
Addressing now the fly: 'From you
What public service can accrue?'
'From me!' the flutt'ring insect said;
'I thought you knew me better bred.
Sir, I'm a gentleman. Is't fit
That I to industry submit?
Let mean mechanics, to be fed
By business earn ignoble bread.
_120
Lost in excess of daily joys,
No thought, no care my life annoys,
At noon (the lady's matin hour)
I sip the tea's delicious flower.
On cakes luxuriously I dine,
And drink the fragrance of the vine.
Studious of elegance and ease,
Myself alone I seek to please.'
The man his pert conceit derides,
And thus the useless coxcomb chides:
_130
'Hence, from that peach, that downy seat,
No idle fool deserves to eat.
Could you have sapped the blushing rind,
And on that pulp ambrosial dined,
Had not some hand with skill and toil,
To raise the tree, prepared the soil?
Consider, sot, what would ensue,
Were all such worthless things as you.
You'd soon be forced (by hunger stung)
To make your dirty meals on dung;
_140
On which such despicable need,
Unpitied, is reduced to feed;
Besides, vain selfish insect, learn
(If you can right and wrong discern)
That he who, with industrious zeal,
Contributes to the public weal,
By adding to the common good,
His own hath rightly understood.'
So saying, with a sudden blow,
He laid the noxious vagrant low.
_150
Crushed in his luxury and pride,
The spunger on the public died.
* * * * *