JOHN GAY
The Rat-catcher and Cats
The rats by night such mischief did,
Betty was ev'ry morning chid.
They undermin'd whole sides of bacon,
Her cheese was sapp'd, her tarts were taken.
Her pasties, fenc'd with thickest paste,
Were all demolish'd, and laid waste.
She curs'd the cat for want of duty,
Who left her foes a constant booty.
An Engineer, of noted skill,
Engag'd to stop the growing ill.
From room to room he now surveys
Their haunts, their works, their secret ways;
Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade.
And whence the nightly sally's made.
An envious Cat from place to place,
Unseen, attends his silent pace.
She saw, that if his trade went on,
The purring race must be undone;
So, secretly removes his baits,
And ev'ry stratagem defeats.
Again he sets the poisoned toils,
And Puss again the labour foils.
"What foe, to frustrate my designs,
My schemes thus nightly countermines?"
Incens'd, he cries: "This very hour
This wretch shall bleed beneath my power."
So said, a ponderous trap he brought,
And in the fact poor Puss was caught.
"Smuggler," says he, "thou shalt be made
A victim to our loss of trade."
The captive Cat, with piteous mews,
For pardon, life, and freedom sues.
"A sister of the science spare;
One int'rest is our common care."
"What insolence!" the man replies;
"Shall Cats with us the game divide?
Were all your interloping band
Extinguished, or expell'd the land,
We Rat-catchers might raise our fees.
Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!"
A Cat, who saw the lifted knife,
Thus spoke and sav'd her sister's life.
"In ev'ry age and clime we see
Two of a trade can ne'er agree.
Each hates his neighbour for encroaching;
'Squire stigmatizes 'squire for poaching;
Beauties with beauties are in arms.
And scandal pelts each other's charms;
Kings too their neighbour kings dethrone,
In hope to make the world their own.
But let us limit our desires;
Not war like beauties, kings, and 'squires!
For though we both one prey pursue,
There's game enough for us and you."
JOHN GAY
The Farmer's Wife and the Raven
Between her swaggering pannier's 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 head,
Fell prone; o'erturned the panniers lay,
And her mashed eggs bestrewed the way.
She, sprawling on the yellow road,
Railed, cursed, and swore: "Thou croaking toad,
A murrain take thy noisy 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;
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 her legs,
And you, good woman, saved your eggs."
JOHN GAY
The Council of Horses
Upon a time, a neighing steed,
Who grazed among a numerous breed,
With mutiny had fired the train,
And spread dissension through the plain.
On matters that concerned the state
The Council met in grand debate.
A Colt, whose eyeballs flamed with ire,
Elate with strength and youthful fire,
In haste stepped forth before the rest,
And thus the listening throng addressed:
"Good gods! how abject is our race,
Condemned to slavery and disgrace!
Shall we our servitude retain
Because our sires have borne the chain?
Consider, friends, your strength and might;
'Tis conquest to assert your right.
How cumb'rous is the gilded coach!
The pride of man is our reproach.
Were we designed for daily toil;
To drag the ploughshare through the soil;
To sweat in harness through the road;
To groan beneath the carrier's load?
How feeble are the two-legged kind!
What force is in our nerves combined!
Shall, then, our nobler jaws submit
To foam, and champ the galling bit?
Shall haughty man my back bestride?
Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?
Forbid it, heavens! Reject the rein;
Your shame, your infamy, disdain.
Let him the lion first control,
And still the tiger's famished growl;
Let us, like them, our freedom claim,
And make him tremble at our name."