FABLE XXVIII.
THE ASS AND HIS MASTER.
"On good and bad an equal value sets
The stupid mob. From me the worst it gets,
And never fails to praise," With vile pretence,
The scurrilous author thus his trash excused.
A poet shrewd, hearing the lame defence,
Indignant, thus exposed the argument abused.
A Donkey's master said unto his beast,
While doling out to him his lock of straw,
"Here, take it—since such diet suits your taste,
And much good may it do your vulgar maw!"
Often the slighting speech the man repeated.
The Ass—his quiet mood by insult heated—
Replies: "Just what you choose to give, I take,
Master unjust! but not because I choose it.
Think you I nothing like but straw? Then make
The experiment. Bring corn, and see if I refuse it."
Ye caterers for the public, hence take heed
How your defaults by false excuse you cover!
Fed upon straw—straw it may eat, indeed:
Try it with generous fare—'t will scorn the other.
FABLE XXIX.
THE TURNSPIT AND THE MULE OF THE WELL.
In inn or convent kitchen,
The reader oft, no doubt,
Turning the spit about,
A contrivance shrewd has seen.
A wheel of wood is it,
With steps on outer rim,
Where a Dog, ceaseless clambering,
Turns it beneath his feet.
A Dog, who every day,
In such wheel, performed his stint,
Thus expressed his discontent:
"Hard work and paltry pay!
Here I may climb and sweat;
And, when my task is done,
They throw me out a bone,—
While they eat all the meat.
Wearily, wearily on,
Day passes after day.
In the house I will not stay,
Nor in the hated town."
The first chance of flight improving,
He slily off did steal;
Till he found, in a field, a wheel
Of a well, which a Mule kept moving.
As his eyes he on it set,
He cried,—"What have we here?
By this it would appear
Here, too, they're roasting meat."
"No meat I roast, but pump
Water," replied the Mule.—
"Let me, now, try a pull;
I'm light, but up I'll jump.
Ah! pretty heavy, is it?
Something harder I must work.
What then? I will not shirk;
'T isn't turning the old spit.
I shall better rations earn,
And more respect compel."—
Here the laborer at the well
Interrupted, in his turn.
"To the spit and kitchen fire
I advise you to go back.
A turnspit strength would lack
For the task to which you aspire."