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FABLE XIV.
THE OWL, THE SWAN, THE COCK, THE SPIDER, THE ASS, AND THE FARMER.
TO A MOTHER.
Conversing with your sprightly boys,
Your eyes have spoke the mother's joys.
With what delight I've heard you quote
Their sayings in imperfect note!
I grant, in body and in mind,
Nature appears profusely kind.
Trust not to that. Act you your part;
Imprint just morals on their heart,
Impartially their talents scan:
Just education forms the man.
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Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)
Each lot of life's already thrown;
That this shall plead, the next shall fight,
The last assert the church's right.
I censure not the fond intent;
But how precarious is the event!
By talents misapplied and cross'd,
Consider, all your sons are lost.
One day (the tale's by Martial penned)
A father thus addressed his friend:
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'To train my boy, and call forth sense,
You know I've stuck at no expense;
I've tried him in the several arts,
(The lad no doubt hath latent parts,)
Yet trying all, he nothing knows;
But, crab-like, rather backward goes.
Teach me what yet remains undone;
'Tis your advice shall fix my son.'
'Sir,' says the friend, 'I've weighed the matter;
Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter:
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Make him (nor think his genius checked)
A herald or an architect.'
Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known)
He heard the advice, and took his own.
The boy wants wit; he's sent to school,
Where learning but improves the fool:
The college next must give him parts,
And cram him with the liberal arts.
Whether he blunders at the bar,
Or owes his infamy to war;
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Or if by licence or degree
The sexton shares the doctor's fee:
Or from the pulpit by the hour
He weekly floods of nonsense pour;
We find (the intent of nature foiled)
A tailor or a butcher spoiled.
Thus ministers have royal boons
Conferred on blockheads and buffoons:
In spite of nature, merit, wit,
Their friends for every post were fit.
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But now let every Muse confess
That merit finds its due success.
The examples of our days regard;
Where's virtue seen without reward?
Distinguished and in place you find
Desert and worth of every kind.
Survey the reverend bench, and see,
Religion, learning, piety:
The patron, ere he recommends,
Sees his own image in his friends.
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Is honesty disgraced and poor?
What is't to us what was before?
We all of times corrupt have heard,
When paltry minions were preferred;
When all great offices by dozens,
Were filled by brothers, sons, and cousins.
What matter ignorance and pride?
The man was happily allied.
Provided that his clerk was good,
What though he nothing understood?
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In church and state, the sorry race
Grew more conspicuous fools in place.
Such heads, as then a treaty made,
Had bungled in the cobbler's trade.
Consider, patrons, that such elves,
Expose your folly with themselves.
'Tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care,
To fix each genius in its sphere.
Your partial hand can wealth dispense,
But never give a blockhead sense.
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An owl of magisterial air,
Of solemn voice, of brow austere,
Assumed the pride of human race,
And bore his wisdom in his face;
Not to depreciate learned eyes,
I've seen a pedant look as wise.
Within a barn, from noise retired,
He scorned the world, himself admired;
And, like an ancient sage, concealed
The follies public life revealed.
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Philosophers of old, he read,
Their country's youth to science bred,
Their manners formed for every station,
And destined each his occupation.
When Xenophon, by numbers braved,
Retreated, and a people saved,
That laurel was not all his own;
The plant by Socrates was sown;
To Aristotle's greater name
The Macedonian[10] owed his fame.
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The Athenian bird, with pride replete,
Their talents equalled in conceit;
And, copying the Socratic rule,
Set up for master of a school.
Dogmatic jargon learnt by heart,
Trite sentences, hard terms of art,
To vulgar ears seemed so profound,
They fancied learning in the sound.
The school had fame: the crowded place
With pupils swarmed of every race.
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With these the swan's maternal care
Had sent her scarce-fledged cygnet heir:
The hen (though fond and loath to part)
Here lodged the darling of her heart:
The spider, of mechanic kind,
Aspired to science more refined:
The ass learnt metaphors and tropes,
But most on music fixed his hopes.
The pupils now advanced in age,
Were called to tread life's busy stage.
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And to the master 'twas submitted,
That each might to his part be fitted.
'The swan,' says he, 'in arms shall shine:
The soldier's glorious toil be thine.
The cock shall mighty wealth attain:
Go, seek it on the stormy main.
The Court shall be the spider's sphere:
Power, fortune, shall reward him there.
In music's art the ass's fame
Shall emulate Corelli's[1] name.
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Each took the part that he advised,
And all were equally despised;
A farmer, at his folly moved,
The dull preceptor thus reproved:
'Blockhead,' says he, 'by what you've done,
One would have thought 'em each your son:
For parents, to their offspring blind,
Consult, nor parts, nor turn of mind;
But even in infancy decree
What this, what t'other son should be.
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Had you with judgment weighed the case,
Their genius thus had fixed their place:
The swan had learnt the sailor's art;
The cock had played the soldier's part;
The spider in the weaver's trade
With credit had a fortune made;
But for the fool, in every class
The blockhead had appeared an ass.'
* * * * *
FABLE XV.
THE COOK-MAID, THE TURNSPIT, AND THE OX.
TO A POOR MAN.
Consider man in every sphere,
Then tell me is your lot severe?
'Tis murmur, discontent, distrust,
That makes you wretched. God is just.
I grant, that hunger must be fed,
That toil too earns thy daily bread.
What then? Thy wants are seen and known,
But every mortal feels his own.
We're born a restless, needy crew:
Show me the happier man than you.
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Adam, though blest above his kind,
For want of social woman pined,
Eve's wants the subtle serpent saw,
Her fickle taste transgressed the law:
Thus fell our sires; and their disgrace
The curse entailed on human race.
When Philip's son, by glory led,
Had o'er the globe his empire spread;
When altars to his name were dressed,
That he was man, his tears confessed.
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The hopes of avarice are check'd:
The proud man always wants respect.
What various wants on power attend!
Ambition never gains its end.
Who hath not heard the rich complain
Of surfeits and corporeal pain?
He, barred from every use of wealth,
Envies the ploughman's strength and health.
Another in a beauteous wife
Finds all the miseries of life:
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Domestic jars and jealous fear
Embitter all his days with care.
This wants an heir, the line is lost:
Why was that vain entail engross'd?
Canst thou discern another's mind?
Why is't you envy? Envy's blind.
Tell Envy, when she would annoy,
That thousands want what you enjoy.
'The dinner must be dished at one.
Where's this vexatious turnspit gone?
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Unless the skulking cur is caught,
The sirloin's spoiled, and I'm in fault.'
Thus said: (for sure you'll think it fit
That I the cook-maid's oaths omit)
With all the fury of a cook,
Her cooler kitchen Nan forsook.
The broomstick o'er her head she waves;
She sweats, she stamps, she puffs, she raves.
The sneaking cur before her flies:
She whistles, calls; fair speech she tries.
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These nought avail. Her choler burns;
The fist and cudgel threat by turns;
With hasty stride she presses near;
He slinks aloof, and howls with fear.
'Was ever cur so cursed!' he cried,
'What star did at my birth preside?
Am I for life by compact bound
To tread the wheel's eternal round?
Inglorious task! Of all our race
No slave is half so mean and base.
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Had fate a kinder lot assigned,
And formed me of the lap-dog kind,
I then, in higher life employed,
Had indolence and ease enjoyed;
And, like a gentleman, caress'd,
Had been the lady's favourite guest.
Or were I sprung from spaniel line,
Was his sagacious nostril mine,
By me, their never-erring guide,
From wood and plain their feasts supplied
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Knights, squires, attendant on my pace,
Had shared the pleasures of the chase.
Endued with native strength and fire,
Why called I not the lion sire?
A lion! such mean views I scorn.
Why was I not of woman born?
Who dares with reason's power contend?
On man we brutal slaves depend:
To him all creatures tribute pays,
And luxury employs his days.'
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An ox by chance o'erheard his moan,
And thus rebuked the lazy drone:
'Dare you at partial fate repine?
How kind's your lot compared with mine!
Decreed to toil, the barbarous knife
Hath severed me from social life;
Urged by the stimulating goad,
I drag the cumbrous waggon's load:
'Tis mine to tame the stubborn plain,
Break the stiff soil, and house the grain;
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Yet I without a murmur bear
The various labours of the year.
But then consider, that one day,
(Perhaps the hour's not far away,)
You, by the duties of your post,
Shall turn the spit when I'm the roast:
And for reward shall share the feast;
I mean, shall pick my bones at least.'
''Till now,' the astonished cur replies,
'I looked on all with envious eyes.
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How false we judge by what appears!
All creatures feel their several cares.
If thus yon mighty beast complains,
Perhaps man knows superior pains.
Let envy then no more torment:
Think on the ox, and learn content.'
Thus said: close following at her heel,
With cheerful heart he mounts the wheel.