Chapter II: Part 2

"Good counsel, marry!" said a fox;
"And quit our mountain-dens and rocks!
But if we quit our native place,
We bear the name that marks our race;
And what our ancestry have done
Descends to us from sire to son.
Though we should feed like harmless lambs,
We should regarded be as shams;
The change would never be believed;
A name lost cannot be retrieved."

The Sire replied: "Too true; but then--
Hark! that's the cackle of a hen.
Go, but be moderate, spare the brood:
One chicken, one, might do me good."

FABLE XXX.

THE SETTER AND THE PARTRIDGE.

The setting dog the stubble tried,
And snuffed the breeze with nostrils wide;
He set--the sportsmen from behind,
Conscious of game, the net unwind.

A partridge, which as warder stood,
Warned, and the covey sought the wood.
But, ere she followed from her cover,
Thus she discharged her mind on Rover:

"Thou fawning slave and sneaking cheat,
Subservient unto man's deceit!
Disgrace unto thy honest race,
Unto the race of dogs disgrace;
Who ere to men they bent the knee
Were noted for fidelity."

The dog retorted with a sneer:
"Since you are safe, enjoy your jeer;
Rustic alike in kind and mind,
And ignorant of courts refined.
Sagacious courtiers do like me,--
They rise to high supremacy;
I copy them, and I inherit
The high rewards for worth and merit."

"I might have known," the partridge said,
"The school where you were trained and bred;
With a smooth brow for every crisis,
Inherent to your master's vices.
You came from courts: return! adieu"--
And to her covey off she flew.

FABLE XXXI.

THE UNIVERSAL APPARITION.

A rake who had, by pleasure stuffing,
Raked mind and body down to nothing,
In wretched vacancy reclined,
Enfeebled both in frame and mind.

As pain and languor chose to bore him,
A ghastly phantom rose before him:

"My name is Care. Nor wealth nor power
Can give the heart a cheerful hour
Devoid of health--impressed by care.
From pleasures fraught with pains, forbear."

The phantom fled. The rake abstained,
And part of fleeing health retained.
Then, to reform, he took a wife,
Resolved to live a sober life.

Again the phantom stood before him,
With jealousies and fears to bore him.
Her smiles to others he resents,
Looks to the charges and the rents,
Increasing debts, perplexing duns,
And nothing for the younger sons.

He turned his thoughts to lucre's thirst,
And stored until his garners burst:
The spectre haunted him the more.
Then poverty besieged his door:
He feared the burglar and the thief;
Nor light nor darkness brought relief.

Therefore he turned his thoughts to power,
To guard him in the midnight hour.
That he achieved--and then the sprite
Beleagued him morning, noon, and night.
He had no placid hour for rest;
Envy and hate his soul depressed,
And rivalry, and foe for friend,
And footfalls which his steps attend.

Therefore he sought a rustic bower--
Groves, fields, and fruit-trees, filled each hour;
But droughts and rains, and blighting dews,
On foot, on horseback, Care pursues.

He faced the phantom, and addressed:
"Since you must ever be my guest,
Let me, as host, perform my due;
Go you the first, I'll follow you."

FABLE XXXII.

THE OWLS AND SPARROW.

Two pompous owls together sat
In the solemnity of chat:

"Respect to wisdom, all is fled;
The Grecian sages all are dead.
They gave our fathers honour due;
The dignity of owls they knew.
Upon our merit they conferred
The title of 'The Athenian bird.'"

"Brother, they did; you reason right,"
Answered his chum with winking sight.
"For Athens was the seat of learning.
Academicians _were_ discerning.
They placed us on Minerva's helm,
And strove with rank to overwhelm
Our worth, which now is quite neglected,--
Ay, a cock-sparrow's more respected."

A sparrow who was passing by,
And heard the speech, made this reply:
"Old chaps, you were at Athens graced,
And on Minerva's helm were placed,
And we all know the reason why.
Of all the birds beneath the sky,
They chose you forth the lot to show
What they desired their schools to know,
The emptiness of solemn looks.
You teach it better than the books.
Would you be thought of wit and worth,
And be respected upon earth,
Humble your arrogance of mind,
Go to the farmers, and there find
A welcome--foe to mice and rats.
And live the rivals of the cats."

FABLE XXXIII.

COURTIER AND PROTEUS.

The country shelters the disgrace
Of every courtier out of place:
When, doomed to exercise and health,
O'er his estate he scatters wealth;
There he builds schemes for others' ruin,
As Philip's son of old was doing.

A wandless one, upon the strand,
Wandered with heavy hours on hand:
The murmuring waters ran and broke;
Proteus arose, and him bespoke:

"Come ye from court, I ask? Your mien
Is so importantly serene."

The courtier answered, friends had tricked him,
And that he was a party's victim.

Proteus replied: "I hold the skill
To change to any shape at will.
But I am told at court there be
Fellows who more than rival me.
Now see a form that I can take:"
And Proteus rolled a scaly snake.

The man replied: "Of reptile race
Is every courtier, whilst in place.
Yes, they can take the dragon form,
Bask in the sun, and flee the storm;
With envy glare, with malice gloat,
And cast, like you your skin,--their coat!
And in a dunghill born and bred,
With new-born lustre rear the head."

Then Proteus as a lion stood,
And shook his mane and stirred the flood;
Then soused as waters, soared as fire,
Then as a tigress glared with ire.

"Such transformations might appal,
Had I not stood in regal hall.
We hunt the lion, utilise
The elements, without surprise.
Such forms indeed are things of prey,
And courtiers hunt them, though they bray.
They practise frauds in every shape,
Or as a lion or an ape."

So said, the courtier grasped the god,
Bound him with cords, dragged to the sod,
And said: "Now tell me, Proteus; tell,
Do men or ancient gods excel?
For you are bound to tell the truth,
Nor are your transformations sooth;
But courtiers are not bound by ties;
They consort not with truth, but lies;
Fix on him any form you will
A courtier finds evasion still."

FABLE XXXIV.

THE MASTIFF.

Those who in quarrels interpose
Must often wipe a bloody nose.

A mastiff of true English mood
Loved fighting better than his food.
When dogs were snarling o'er a bone
He wished to make their war his own;
And often found (where two contend)
To interpose, obtained his end:
The scars of honour seamed his face;
He deemed his limp endued with grace.

Once on a time he heard afar
Two dogs contend with noisy jar;
Away he scoured to lay about him,
Resolved no fray should be without him.
Forth from the yard--which was a tanner's--
The master rushed to teach him manners;
And with the cudgel tanned his hide,
And bullied him with words beside.
Forth from another yard--a butcher's--
The master rushed--his name was Mutchers--
"Why, who the deuce are you?" he cried:
"Why do you interfere? Bankside
Has, at the Bull-pit, seen and known,
And Hockleyhole and Marry-bone,
That when we go to work we mean it--
Why should you come and intervene it?"
So said, they dragged the dogs asunder,
And kicks and clubs fell down like thunder.
And parted now, and freed from danger,
The curs beheld the meddling stranger,
And where their masters whacked they hurried,
And master mastiff he was "worried."

FABLE XXXV.

BARLEYMOW AND DUNGHILL.

How many saucy beaux we meet
'Twixt Westminster and Aldgate-street!
Rascals--the mushrooms of a day,
Who sprung and shared the South Sea prey,
Nor in their zenith condescend
To own or know the humble friend.

A careful farmer took his way
Across his yard at break of day:
He leant a moment o'er the rail,
To hear the music of the flail;
In his quick eye he viewed his stock,--
The geese, the hogs, the fleecy flock.

A barleymow there, fat as mutton,
Then held her master by the button:
"Master, my heart and soul are wrung--till
They can't abide that dirty dunghill:
Master, you know I make your beer--
You boast of me at Christmas cheer;
Then why insult me and disgrace me,
And next to that vile dunghill place me?
By Jove! it gives my nose offence:
Command the hinds to cart it hence."

"You stupid Barleymow," said Dunghill;
"You talk about your heart and wrung-ill:
Where would you be, I'd like to know,
Had I not fed and made you grow?
You of October brew brag--pshaw!
You would have been a husk of straw.
And now, instead of gratitude,
You rail in this ungrateful mood."

FABLE XXXVI.

PYTHAGORAS AND COUNTRYMAN.

Pythagoras, at daybreak drawn
To meditate on dewy lawn,
To breathe the fragrance of the morning,
And, like philosophers, all scorning
To think or care where he was bound,
Fell on a farm. A hammer's sound
Arrested then his thoughts and ear:

"My man, what are you doing there?"

The clown stood on a ladder's rung,
And answered him with rudish tongue:
"I've caught the villain--this here kite
Kept my hens ever in a fright;
I've nailed he here to my barn-door,
Him shan't steal turkey-pouts no more."
And lo! upon the door displayed,
The caitiff kite his forfeit paid.

"Friend," said Pythagoras, "'tis right
To murder a marauding kite;
But, by analogy, that glutton--
That man who feasts on beef and mutton--
I say,--that by analogy,--
The man who eats a chick should die.
'Tis insolence of power and might
When man, the glutton, kills the kite."

The clown, who heard Pythagoras,
Waxed in a rage, called him an ass;
Said man was lord of all creation.

"Man," the sage answered, _sans_ sensation,
"You murder hawks and kites, lest they
Should rob you of your fatted prey;
And that great rogues may hold their state,
The petty rascal meets his fate."

FABLE XXXVII.

FARMER'S WIFE AND RAVEN.

"Why are those tears? Why droops your head?
Say is your swain or husband dead?"

The farmer's wife said: "You know well
The salt was spilt,--to me it fell;
And then to add loss unto loss,
The knife and fork were laid across.
On Friday evening, 'tis too true,
Bounce in my lap a coffin flew.
Some dire misfortune it portends:
I tremble for my absent friends."

"Dame," said the neighbour, "tremble not:
Be all these prodigies forgot;
The while, at least, you eat your dinner
Bid the foul fiend avaunt--the sinner!
And soon as Betty clears the table
For a dessert, I'll read a fable.

"Betwixt her panniers rocked, on Dobbin
A matron rode to market bobbing,
Indulging in a trancelike dream
Of money for her eggs and cream;
When direful clamour from her broke:
'A raven on the left-hand oak!
His horrid croak bodes me some ill.'
Here Dobbin stumbled; 'twas down-hill,
And somehow he with failing legs
Fell, and down fell the cream and eggs.
She, sprawling, said, 'You rascal craven!
You--nasty--filthy--dirty--raven!'
'Goody,' said raven, 'spare your clamour,
There nothing here was done by glamour;
Get up again and wipe your gown,
It was not I who threw you down;
For had you laid your market ware
On Dun--the old sure-footed mare--
Though all the ravens in the Hundred
Had croaked till all the Hundred wondered,
Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,
And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'"

FABLE XXXVIII.

THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.

We blame the mote that dims the eye
Of other men, whose faults we spy;
But we ignore the beam that lies
With stronger strain in one's own eyes.

A turkey, who grew dull at home,
Resolved in the wild woods to roam;
Wearied she was of barn-door food,
Therefore she chuckled round her brood,
And said, "My little ones, now follow;
We'll go and dine in yonder hollow."
They first upon an ant-hill fell--
Myriads of negro-ants, pell-mell--
"O gobble, gobble--here's a treat!
Emmets are most delicious meat;
Spare not, spare not. How blest were we,
Could we here live from poulterers free!
Accursèd man on turkeys preys,
Christmas to us no holy-days;
When with the oyster-sauce and chine
We roast that aldermen may dine.
They call us 'alderman in chains,'
With sausages--the stupid swains!
Ah! gluttony is sure the first
Of all the seven sins--the worst!
I'd choke mankind, had I the power,
From peasant's hut to lordly bower."

An ant, who on a neighbouring beech
Had climbed the trunk beyond her reach,
Thus said to her: "You turkey-hen,
What right have you to rail on men?
You nor compunction know nor feel,
But gobble nations at a meal!"

FABLE XXXIX.

THE FATHER AND JUPITER.

A man to Jupiter preferred
Prayers for a wife: his prayer was heard.
Jove smiled to see the man caressing
The granted prayer and doubtful blessing.

Again he troubled Jove with prayers:
Fraught with a wife, he wanted heirs:
They came, to be annoys or joys--
One girl and two big bouncing boys.
And, a third time, he prayed his prayer
For grace unto his son and heir--
That he, who should his name inherit,
Might be replete with worth and merit.
Then begged his second might aspire,
With strong ambition, martial fire;
That Fortune he might break or bend,
And on her neck to heights ascend.
Last, for the daughter, prayed that graces
Might tend upon her face and paces.

Jove granted all and every prayer,
For daughter, and cadet, and heir.
The heir turned out a thorough miser,
And lived as lives the college sizar;
He took no joy in show or feat,
And starving did not choose to eat.
The soldier--he held honours martial,
And won the baton of field-marshal;
And then, for a more princely elf,
They laid the warrior on the shelf.
The beauty viewed with high disdain
The lover's hopes--the lover's pain;
Age overtook her, undecided,
And Cupid left her much derided.

The father raised his voice above,
Complaining of the gifts to Jove;
But Jove replied that weal and woe
Depended not on outward show--
That ignorant of good or ill,
Men still beset the heavenly will:
The blest were those of virtuous mind,
Who were to Providence resigned.

FABLE XL.

THE TWO MONKEYS.

The scholar, of his learning vain,
Beholds the fop with deep disdain:
The fop, with spirit as discerning,
Looks down upon the man of learning.
The Spanish Don--a solemn strutter--
Despises Gallic airs and flutter:
Whilst the Gaul ridicules the Don,
And John Bull looks with like disdain
On manners both of France and Spain:
They hold, indeed, a deed tripartite
To see each other in a tart light.
'Tis thus the bard is scorned by those
Who only deal in learned prose:
Whilst bards of quick imagination
Are hipped by the dull prose oration.
Men scoff at apes: apes scoff at them;
And all--except themselves--contemn.

Two monkeys visited the fair,
Like critics, with Parnassian sneer;
They forced a way through draggled folk,
Laughed at Jack Pudding and his joke,
Then bought their tickets for the show,
And squatted in the foremost row;
Their cut-of-jib was there so stunning,
It set the idle rabble funning.

"Brother," one Pug to other said,
"The mob is certainly ill-bred."
A sentiment which found no favour,
And the retorts were of ill-savour.

The clown with entrance stopped the jar--
Head over heels--with "Here we are!"
The tumblers made their somersets,
The vaulters made tremendous jets;
The dancer on the rope did wonders,
And drew down the applauses--thunders,
As Numa once elicited
From Jove Elicius, so they did.

"Behold the imitative crew!"
Said Pug: "they copy me and you,
And clumsily. I'd like to see
Them jump from forest-tree to tree;
I'd like to see them, on a twig,
Perform a slip-slap or a rig;
And yet it pleasant is to know
The boobies estimate us so."

"Brother!" the other Pug replied,
"They do their best--with us their guide;
We must allow praise is their due,
Whilst they example good pursue;
But when I see them take a flight,
Or walk, like they walk--bolt upright,
Because we sometimes walk on two--
I hate the imitative crew!"

FABLE XLI.

OWL AND FARMER.

An owl took, in a barn, a station
As fittest for deep contemplation;
There (like a Turk) upon a beam
He sat, as Turks sit in hareem.

So smokers, at the Magpie met,
Peruse the 'Post-boy' or 'Gazette;'
And thence foretell, in wise and sure hope,
The future destinies of Europe.

The farmer comes to see his sheaves.
The owl his silent soul relieves;
"Reason in man is sheer pretence,
Would he--were he endowed with sense--
Treat owls with scorning? He can praise
The birds that twitter on the sprays:
Linnets, and larks, and nightingales,
Yet in the nobler owl he fails.
Should I, by daylight, view my reign,
Those birds would cluster in my train;
Why do they pounce upon the wing,
Save that they see and own their king?"

"Pshaw!" said the farmer: "lump of pride!
They only follow to deride;
Your scream affrights the evening hour,
When nightingales enchant the bower.
Why all on earth--man, beast, and fowl--
Know you for what you are--an owl.
You and your train! 'midst Nature's rules,
Fools in derision follow fools!"

FABLE XLII.

JUGGLER AND VICE.

A juggler once had travelled thorough
Each city, market-town, and borough;
You'd think, so far his art transcended,
Old Nick upon his fingers tended.

Vice heard his name: she read his bill,
And sought his booth--defied his skill.

The juggler, willing, laid a wager,
Not yet by losses rendered sager;
He played his tricks of high emprize,--
Confounding touch, deluding eyes.
Then cards obeyed his will, and gold
From empty bags in torrents rolled!
He showed an ivory egg: and then
Hatched and brought forth the mother-hen!

Vice then stepped forth, with look serene
Enough to stir a juggler's spleen:
She passed a magic looking-glass,
Which pleased alike dame, lad, and lass;
Whilst she, a senator addressing,
Said: "See this bank-note--lo! a blessing--
Breathe on it--Presto! hey! 'tis gone!"
And on his lips a padlock shone.
"Hey, presto!" and another puff,
It went, and he spoke well enough!
She placed twelve bottles on the board,
They were with some enchantment stored;
"Hey, presto!" and they disappear--
A pair of bloody swords were there.
She showed a purse unto a thief,
His fingers closed on it in brief;
"Hey, presto!" and--the treasure fled--
He grasped a halter, noosed, instead.
Ambition held a courtier's wand,
It turned a hatchet in his hand.
A box for charities, she drew;
"Blow here!" and a churchwarden blew--
"Hey, presto, open!" Opened, in her,
For gold was a parochial dinner!
Vice shook the dice, she smote the board,
And filled all pockets from her hoard.
A counter, in a miser's hand,
Grew twenty guineas at command;
She bade a rake to grasp them, fain--
They turned a counter back again.
The transmutations of a guinea
Made every one stare like a ninny;
But fair was false, and false was fair,
By which Vice cheated eye and ear.

The juggler, though with grief at heart,
In recognition of her art,
Said: "Now and then I cheat the throng,
You every day--and all day long!"

FABLE XLIII.

COUNCIL OF HORSES.

A steed with mutiny inspired
The stud which grazed the mead, and fired
A colt, whose eyes then blazing fire,
Stood forth and thus expressed his ire:

"How abject is the equine race,
Condemned to slavery's disgrace!
Consider, friends, the deep reproach--
Harnessed to drag the gilded coach,
To drag the plough, to trot the road,
To groan beneath the pack-horse load!
Whom do we serve?--a two-legged man,
Of feeble frame, of visage wan.
What! must our noble jaws submit
To champ and foam their galling bit?
He back and spur me? Let him first
Control the lion--tiger's thirst:
I here avow that I disdain
His might, that I reject his reign.
He freedom claims, and why not we?
The nag that wills it, must be free!"

He paused: the intervening pause
Was followed by some horse-applause.

An ancient Nestor of the race
Advanced, with sober solemn pace;
With age and long experience wise,
He cast around his thoughtful eyes.
He said: "I was with strength endued,
And knew the tasks of servitude;
Now I am old--and now these plains
And grateful man, repay my pains.
I ofttimes marvelled to think, how
He knew the times to reap and plough;
And to his horses gave a share
Of the fair produce of the year.
He built the stable, stored the hay,
And winnowed oats from day to day.
Since every creature is decreed
To aid his brother in his need,
We served each other--horse and man--
And carried out the Eternal plan,
And each performed his part assigned:
Then calm your discontented mind."

The Nestor spoke--the colt submitted--
And, like his ancestry, was bitted.

FABLE XLIV.

HOUND AND HUNTSMAN.

Seeing yourselves are wise, ye smile
On fools and folly for a while;
But water wears the rocks, and sense
Is wearied by impertinence.

The wind was southerly, the sky
Proclaimed that a good scent would lie--
Forth from the kennel burst the hounds,
As schoolboys sally out of bounds.
They hailed the huntsman; he by name
Greeted each dog, who thought it fame.
See them obey command: when bade,
They scattered thro' the copse and glade;
They snuffed the scent upon the gale,
And sought the remnant of a trail.

Ringwood, a pup, on the alert,
Was very young and very pert;
He opened--from exuberant spirit--
But old dogs heard the puppy in it;
But when his note of "Full-cry" rose,
The huntsman to the puppy goes,--
Down falls the lash,--up rose the yelp,
And murmured thus the puppy whelp:

"Why lash me? Are you malcontent
That I possess superior scent?"

The huntsman answered: "Puppy slips
Must be restrained by lash of whips;
Puppies our scorn, not envy, raise--
For envy is akin to praise.
Had not that forward noisy tongue
The patience of your elders wrung,
You might have hunted with the pack;
But now the whip assails your back:
You must be taught to know your ground,
And from a puppy grow a hound."

FABLE XLV.

ROSE AND POET.

I scorn the man who builds his fame
On ruins of another's name:
As prudes, who prudishly declare
They by a sister scandaled are;
As scribblers, covetous of praise,
By slandering, snatch themselves the bays;
Beauties and bards, alike, are prone
To snatch at honours not their own.
As Lesbia listens, all the whister,
To hear some scandal of a sister.
How can soft souls, which sigh for sueings,
Rejoice at one another's ruins?

As, in the merry month of May,
A bard enjoyed the break of day,
And quaffed the fragrant scents ascending,
He plucked a blossomed rose, transcending
All blossoms else; it moved his tongue
To rhapsodize, and thus he sung:

"Go, rose, and lie
On Chloë's bosom, and be there caressed;
For there would I,
Like to a turtle-dove, aye flee to nest
From jealousy
And carking care, by which I am opprest.
There lie--repose
Upon a bosom fragrant and as fair;
Nor rival those
Beauties ethereal you discover there.
For wherefore, rose,
Should you, as I, be subject to despair?"

* * * * *

"Spare your comparisons--oh! spare--
Of me and fragrancy and fair!"
A Maiden-blush, which heard him, said,
With face unwontedly flushed red.
"Tell me, for what committed wrong
Am I the metaphor of song?
I would you could write rhymes without me,
Nor in your ecstacies so flout me.
In every ditty must we bloom?
Can't you find elsewhere some perfume?
Oh! does it add to Chloë's sweetness
To visit and compare my meetness?
And, to enhance her face, must mine
Be made to wither, peak, and pine?"

FABLE XLVI.

CUR, HORSE, AND SHEPHERD'S DOG.

The lad of mediocre spirit
Blurs not with modesty his merit.
On all exerting wit and tongue,
His rattling jokes, at random flung,
Bespatter widely friend and foe.
Too late the forward boy will know
That jokes are often paid in kind,
Or rankle longer in the mind.

A village cur, with treble throat,
Thought he owned music's purest note,
And on the highway lay, to show it
Or to philosopher or poet.
Soon as a roadster's trot was heard,
He rose, with nose and ears upreared;
As he passed by assailed his heels,
Nor left him till they reached the fields.

But, as it happened once, a pad,
Assailed by Master Snarl, like mad,
Flung out, and knocked him in the mire;
Nor did he stop to care, inquire,
If he had hurt him. On his way
Pad passed, and puppy bleeding lay.

A shepherd's dog, who saw him bleed,
Who hated Snarl and all his breed,
Said, "This was brought about by prate,
Which horses--even horses--hate!"

FABLE XLVII.

THE COURT OF DEATH.

Once on a time, in solemn state,
Death, in his pomp of terror, sate.
Attendant on his gloomy reign,
Sadness and Madness, Woe and Pain,
His vassal train. With hollow tone
The tyrant muttered from his throne:

"We choose a minister to-night;
Let him who wills prefer his right,
And unto the most worthy hand
We will commit the ebon wand."

Fever stood forth: "And I appeal
To weekly bills to show my zeal.
Repelled, repulsed, I persevere;
Often quotidian through a year."

Gout next appeared to urge his claim
For the racked joints of tortured frame:
He, too, besieged the man oppressed,
Nor would depart, although suppressed.

Then Rheumatics stept forth, and said:
"I plague them as they lie in bed."

Whilst Palsy said: "I make them stumble;
When they get up, I make them tumble."

Then quick Consumption, slow Decline,
Put in their claims, on counts malign;
And Plague preferred his rapid power
To weed a nation in an hour.

At the first pause, the monarch said:
"Merit of modesty was bred.
Does no physician strive with these?
Physicians are content with fees.
I say, give Drunkenness the wand;
There, give it to his drunken hand.
For wary men, as foes, detest
You, Rheumatics--who break their rest--
Fever, and Gout, who here contend;
But Drunkenness they think their friend,
Invite him to their feasts: he shares
Alike their merriments and cares.
He for another _magnum_ calls
At weddings, births, and funerals."

FABLE XLVIII.

FLORIST AND PIG.

A florist--wit had run a rig--
Had set his fancy on a pig;
Which followed master like a dog,
And petted was, although a hog.

The master thus addressed the swine:
"My house and garden both be thine;
Feast on potatoes as you please,
And riot 'midst the beans and peas;
Turnips and carrots, pig, devour,
And broccoli and cauliflower;
But spare my tulips--my delight,
By which I fascinate my sight."

But Master Pig, next morning, roamed
Where sweet wort in the coolers foamed.
He sucked his fill; then munched some grains,
And, whilst inebriated, gains
The garden for some cooling fruits,
And delved his snout for tulip-roots.
He did, I tell you, much disaster;
So thought, at any rate, his master:
"My sole, my only, charge forgot,
You drunken and ungrateful sot!"

"Drunken, yourself!" said Piggy-wiggy;
"I ate the roots, not flowers, you priggy!"

The florist hit the pig a peg,
And piggy turned and tore his leg.

"Fool that I was," the florist said,
"To let that hog come near my bed!
Who cherishes a brutal mate,
Will mourn the folly, soon or late."

FABLE XLIX.

MAN AND FLEA.

Nothing, methinks, is to be seen
On earth that does not overween.
Doth not the hawk, from high, survey
The fowls as destined for his prey?
And do not Cæsars, and such things,
Deem men were born to slave for kings?
The crab, amidst the golden sands
Of Tagus, or on pearl-strewn strands,
Or in the coral-grove marine,
Thinks hers each gem of ray serene.
The snail, 'midst bordering pinks and roses,
Where zephyrs fly and love reposes,
Where Laura's cheek vies with the peaches,
When Corydon one glance beseeches,--
The snail regards both fruit and flower,
And thanks God for the granted bower.

And man, who, standing on some bluff,
Regards the world with soul as tough,--
The sun, the moon, the starry sphere,
The harvests of the circling year,
The mighty ocean, meadows trim,
And deems they all are made for him.
"How infinite," he says, "am I!
How wondrous in capacity!
Over creation to hold reign,
The lord of pleasure and of pain----"

"Hold hard, my hearty!" said a flea,
Perched on his neck, beneath his lee.
"I do not brag that all creation
Is subject to the Flea-ite nation.
I know that parasitic races,
The Ticks and Lucies have their places;
But the imperial race of Flea
Is all surpassing--look at me.
My concentrated vigour, grant,
Then look at yon huge elephant;
Look at my leap, at my proboscis,
Then go and learn, 'UT TU TE NOSCIS,'
That man was made with skin to bleed,
That families of fleas may feed."

FABLE L.

HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.

Friendship, as love, is but a name,
Save in a concentrated flame;
And thus, in friendships, who depend
On more than one, find not one friend.

A hare who, in a civil way,
Was not dissimilar to GAY,
Was well known never to offend,
And every creature was her friend.
As was her wont, at early dawn,
She issued to the dewy lawn;
When, from the wood and empty lair,
The cry of hounds fell on her ear.
She started at the frightful sounds,
And doubled to mislead the hounds;
Till, fainting with her beating heart,
She saw the horse, who fed apart.
"My friend, the hounds are on my track;
Oh, let me refuge on your back!"

The horse responded: "Honest Puss,
It grieves me much to see you thus.
Be comforted--relief is near;
Behold, the bull is in the rear."

Then she implored the stately bull,
His answer we relate in full:
"Madam, each beast alive can tell
How very much I wish you well;
But business presses in a heap,
I an appointment have to keep;
And now a lady's in the case,--
When other things, you know, give place.
Behold the goat is just behind;
Trust, trust you'll not think me unkind."

The goat declared his rocky lairs
Wholly unsuited were to hares.
"There is the sheep," he said, "with fleece.
Adapted, now, to your release."

The sheep replied that she was sure
Her weight was too great to endure;
"Besides," she said, "hounds worry sheep."

Next was a calf, safe in a keep:
"Oh, help me, bull-calf--lend me aid!"

"My youth and inexperience weighed,"
Replied the bull-calf, "though I rue it,
Make me incompetent to do it;
My friends might take offence. My heart--
You know my heart, my friend--we part,
I do assure you----Hark! adieu!
The pack, in full cry, is in view."

FABLE LI.

DOG AND FOX.

(_To a Lawyer._)

My friend, the sophisticated tongue
Of lawyers can turn right to wrong;
And language, by your skill made pliant,
Can save an undeserving client.
Is it the fee directs the sense
To injure injured innocence?
Or can you, with a double face
Like Janus's, mistate a case?
Is scepticism your profession,
And justice absent from your session?
And is, e'en so, the bar supplied,
Where eloquence takes either side?

A man can well express his meaning,
Except in law deeds, where your gleaning
Must be first purchased--must be fee'd;
Engrossed, too, the too-prolix deed.
But do we shelter beneath law?
Ay, till your brother finds the flaw.
All wills pass muster, undisputed;
Dispute, and they are soon confuted:
And you, by instinct, flaws discover,
As dogs find coveys in the clover.

Sagacious Porta loved to trace
Likeness to brutes in lordly face--
To ape or owls his sketches liking,
Sent the laugh round--they were so striking.
So would I draw my satire true,
And fix it on myself or you.

But you dissent: you do not like
A portrait that shall rudely strike.
You write no libels on the state,
And party prejudice you hate;
But to assail a private name
You shrink, my friend, and deem it shame.
So be it: yet let me in fable
Knock a knave over; if I am able.
Shall not the decalogue be read,
Because the guilty sit in dread?
Brutes are my theme: am I to blame
If minds are brutish, men the same?
Whom the cap fits, e'en let him wear it--
And we are strong enough to bear it.

A shepherd's dog, unused to sporting,
Picked up acquaintance, all consorting.
Amongst the rest, a friendship grew
'Twixt him and Reynard, whom he knew.

Said Reynard: "'Tis a cruel case
That man will stigmatize my race:
Ah! there are rogues midst men and foxes--
You see that where the parish stocks is.
Still there are honest men and true--
So are there honest foxes too.
You see and know I've no disguise,
And that, like life, I honour prize."

The honest dog threw off distrust,
For talk like that seemed good and just.
On as they went one day with chatter
Of honour and such moral matter,
They heard a tramp. "Are hounds abroad?
I heard a clatter on the road."

"Nay," said the dog: "'tis market-day,
Dame Dobbin now is on her way.
That foot is Dun's, the pyebald mare:
They go to sell their poultry ware."

"Their poultry ware! Why poultry me?
Sir, your remark is very free.
Do I know your Dame Dobbin's farm?
Did I e'er do her hen-roost harm?"

"Why, my good friend, I never meant
To give your spirit discontent.
No lamb--for aught I ever knew--
Could be more innocent than you."

"What do you mean by such a flam?
Why do you talk to me of lamb?
They lost three lambs: you say that I--
I robbed the fold;--you dog, you lie!"

"Knave," said the dog, "your conscience tweaks:
It is the guilty soul that speaks."
So saying, on the fox he flies,
The self-convicted felon dies.

FABLE LII.

VULTURE, SPARROW, AND BIRDS.

Ere I begin I must premise
Our ministers are good and wise:
Therefore if tongues malicious fly,
Or what care they, or what care I?

If I am free with courts, and skittish,
I ne'er presume to mean the British:
I meddle with no state affairs,
But spare my jest and save my ears;
And our court schemes are too profound
For Machiavel himself to sound.
A captious fool may feel offended;
They are by me uncomprehended.

Your younger brother wants a place--
(That's many a younger brother's case).
You likewise tell me he intends
To try the court and beat up friends.
I trust he may a patriot find,
True to his king and to mankind,
And true to merit--to your brother's--
And then he need not teaze us others.

You praise his probity and wit:
No doubt; I doubt them not a whit.
Ah! may our patriot have them too;
And if both clash, why things may do.
For I have heard (oh, Heaven defend us!
For I'll not hold it might not mend us)
That ministers, high as yon steeple,
Have trodden low law, king, and people,
When virtue from preferment barred
Gets nothing save its own regard.
Courtiers--a set of knaves--attend them,
And arrogance well recommends them;
Who flatter them defame their foes
To lull the ministerial woes:
And if projectors fire a brain,
South Sea or silver mines in Spain,
The broker's ready in a trice
To satisfy e'en avarice.
A courtier's conscience must be pliant;
He must go on, nor be defiant,
Through thick and thin, o'er stock and stone,
Or else, bye, bye, the post is gone.
Since plagues like these as storms may lower,
And favourites fall as falls the flower,
Good principles should not be steady,--
That is, at court, but ever ready
To veer--as veers the vane--each hour
Around the ministry in power:
For they, you know, they must have tools;
And if they can't get knaves, get fools.
Ah! let me shun the public hate,
And flee the guilt of guilty state.
Give me, kind Heaven, a private station,
A mind serene for contemplation;
And if bright honour may be mine,
Profit and title I resign.
Now read my fable, and--in short,
Go, if you will, then--go to court.

In days of yore (for cautious rhymes
Should aye eschew the present times)
A greedy vulture, skilled in preying,
Approached the throne, his wings displaying,
And at the royal eagle's ear
Burthens of state proposed to bear.
Behold him minister of state;
Behold his feathered throng await;
Behold them granting posts and places
Concordant with their worth and races.
The nightingales were all turned out,
And daws put in. "These birds, no doubt,"
The vulture said, "are the most fit
Both for capacity and wit,
And very docile: they will do
My business, as I wish them to.
And hawk--the hawk is a good fellow--
And chanticleer, with cockscomb yellow;
But all the ravens--they must go--
Pry in futurities, you know.
That will not do; to baffle all
With truth, for the apocryphal.
No; jays and pies will do far better,--
They talk by rote, nor know a letter."

A sparrow, on the housetop, heard--
The sparrow is a knowing bird:
"If rogues unto preferments rise,
I ask nor place nor seignories.
To the thatched cottage, I, to find,
From courts afar, my peace of mind."

FABLE LIII.

APE AND POULTRY.

Esteem is frequently misplaced,
Where she may even stand disgraced;
We must allow to wealth and birth
Precedence, which is due on earth:
But our esteem is only due
Unto the worth of man and virtue.

Around an ancient pedigree
There is a halo fair to see,
With "unwrung withers" we afford
Our salutation to milord,
As due unto his ancient house,
Albeit his lordship be a chouse.
And riches dazzle us--we know
How much they might or should bestow:
But power is nothing, _sans_ the will,
Often recalcitrant to ill:
And yet the mob will stand and gaze
On each, with similar amaze.
But worst of all the lot, we grant,
The parasite or sycophant:
Such as can vilely condescend
To dirty jobs; and bow and bend,
With meanest tropes of adulation,
To have and hold on to their station.
E'en such a ministry among
Are found amidst the waiting throng.
Where'er are misdeeds, there are bevies;
And wanting never at the levees,
Men who have trimmed the stocks, been rabbled,
In South Seas and in gold mines dabbled,
Where sycophants applauded schemes
Madder than the maddest madman's dreams.

When pagans sacrificed to Moloch,
They gave the first-born of their low stock;
But here, unless all history lies,
Nations are made the sacrifice.
For look through courts, and you will find
The principle that rules mankind,--
Worshipped beneath the sundry shapes
Of wolves, and lions, fox, and apes.

Where, then, can we esteem bestow,--
To-day in place, to-morrow low?
And the winged insects of his power
Gone--when they see the tempests lower:
Like to the bubble, full and fair,
With hues prismatic, puffed with air.
Another puff--and down it tends--
Earthward one dingy drop descends.

A maiden, much misused by Time--
All aspirations of her prime,
Like the soap bubble, puffed and burst,--
Monkeys, and dogs, and parrots nurst;
A whole menagerie employed
The passing hours which she enjoyed.
A monkey, big as a gorilla,
Who stalked beneath a big umbrella,
Was her prime minister: his finger
Was wont in each man's pie to linger.
She liked the monster, and assigned
The poultry-yard to him, to find
The daily rations of the corn.
Behold him now, with brow of scorn,
Amidst his vassals: come for picking--
Swans, turkeys, peacocks, ducks, and chicken.
The minister appeared, the crowd
Performed the reverence due; and bowed
And spoke their compliments and duties,
Whilst he revolved in mind his new ties,
And thought "What is a place of trust?--
'And first unto thyself be just,
And then it follows that you can
Not be unjust to any man.'
That moral motto is most true;
As Shakespeare teaches, will I do."

There was an applewoman's stall,
With plums and nuts, beneath a wall;
With her he then proposed to trade,--
In corn, full payments to be made.

"Madam, in mind this dogma bear:
'Buy in the cheap; sell in the dear;'
And, since my barley costs me nothing,
My market is as cheap as stuffing."

Away then went the stores of grain,--
The poultry died; and mistress, fain
To know the cause, named a commission--
Which ended in the Pug's dismission,
And left our hero in a hash,
With Newgate and refunded cash.

A gander met him in disgrace,
Who knew him well when high in place.
"Two days ago," said Pug, "you bowed
The lowest of the cringing crowd."

"I always bob my head before
I pass," said Goosey, "a barn-door.
I always cackle for my grain,
And so do all my gosling train:
But if I do not know a monkey,
Whene'er I see one,--I'm a donkey."

FABLE LIV.

ANT IN OFFICE.

You tell me that my verse is rough,
And to do mischief like enough;
Bid me eschew, in honest rhymes,
Follies of countries and crimes.
You ask me if I ever knew
Court chaplains thus lawn sleeves pursue?
I meddle not with gown or lawn;
I, therefore, have no need to fawn.
If they must soothe a patron's ear,
Not I--I was not born to bear;
All base conditions I refuse,
Nor will I so debase the muse.

Though I ne'er flatter nor defame,
Yet would I fain bring guilt to shame;
And I corruption would expose,
Though all corrupted were my foes.
I no man's property invade,--
Corruption 's an unlawful trade;
So bribery also. Politicians
Should be tied down to such conditions;
If they were stinted of their tools,
Less were their train of knaves and fools.

Were such the case, let us review
The dreadful mischiefs to ensue.
Some silver services 'twould stint,
But that would aggrandise the Mint;
Some ministers find less regard,
But bring their servants more reward;
Fewer informers, fewer spies,
But that would swell the year's supplies;
An annual job or two might drop,
We should not miss it 'midst the crop;
Some pensions, haply, be refused,
The Civil List be less abused;
It might the ministry confound,
And yet the State stand safe and sound.
Next, let it well be understood
I only mean my country's good--
I wish all courtiers did the same.
I wish to bar no honest claim;
I wish the nation out of debt;
No private man had cause to fret;
Yet law and public good to be
The pole-stars of the Ministry;
I wish corruption, bribery, pension,
Were things there were no need to mention;
I wish to strike a blow at vice,--
Fall where it may, I am not nice;
Although the Law--the devil take it!--
Can _scandalum magnatum_ make it.
I vent no scandal, neither judge
Another's conscience; on I trudge,
And with my satire take no aim,
Nor knave nor steward name by name.
Yet still you think my fable bears
Allusion unto State affairs.

I grant it does so; but, what then?--
I strike at motives, not at men.
If hands corrupted harm the nation,
I bar no reader's application.

There was an Ant, of flippant tongue,
Who oft the ears of senates wrung;
Whether he knew the thing or no,
Assurance sat upon his brow;
Who gained the post whereto he strained--
The grain-controllership attained.
But then old laws were very strict,
And punished actions _derelict_.
Accounts were passed by year and year,
The auditors would then appear,
And his controllership of grain
Must his accounts and stock explain.

He put a balance-sheet in--_cooked_,
An honest emmet o'er it looked,
And said, "The hoard of grain is low;
But the accounts themselves don't show
By any vouchers what the stocks are.
Really, such documents but mocks are."

"Sir," the controller said, "would you
Have us pass everything to view?
Divulge all matters to all eyes,
Proclaim to winds state mysteries?
'Twould lay us open to our foes;
You see all that we dare disclose;
And, on my honour, the expense
Is lavished on the swarm's defence."

They passed the balance-sheet--again
Next year's shewed "deficit of grain;"
And thus again controller pleaded:
"Much secret service has been needed,
For famines threaten: turkey broods
Have been most clamorous for foods.
Turkey invasions have cost dear,
And geese were numerous last year.
Really, these secrets told are ruin,
And tend much to the realm's undoing."

Again, without examination,
They thanked his good administration.
A third and fourth time this recurred,
An auditor would then be heard:
"Are we but tools," he said, "of rogues?
Through us corruption disembogues
Her mighty flood; for every grain
We touch we vouch at least for twain.
Where have they vanished? nay, in bribes.
They have depoverished our tribes."

Then followed an investigation,
And a report unto the nation.
The Ant was punished, and his hoard--
All that remained of it--restored.

FABLE LV.

THE BEAR IN A BOAT.

(_To a Coxcomb._)

Ah! my dear fellow, write the motto
NOSCE TEIPSUM o'er your grotto;
For he must daily wiser grow,
Determined his own scope to know.
He never launches from the shore
Without the compass, sail, and oar.
He, ere he builds, computes the costs;
And, ere he fights, reviews the hosts.
He safely walks within the fence,
And reason takes from common sense:
Pride and presumption standing checked
Before some palpable defect.

To aid the search for pride's eviction,
A coxcomb claims a high distinction.
Not to one age or sex confined
Are coxcombs, but of rank and kind;
Pervading all ranks, great and small,
Who take and never give the wall.
By ignorance is pride increased;
They who assume most, know the least.
Yet coxcombs do not, all alike,
Our ridicule and laughter strike.
For some are lovers, some are bores,
Some rummage in the useless stores
Of folios ranged upon the shelf,
Another only loves himself.
Such coxcombs are of private station:
Ambition soars to rule the nation.
They flattery swallow: do not fear,--
No nonsense will offend their ear:
Though you be sycophant professed,
You will not put his soul to test.
If policy should be his care,
Drum MACHIAVELLI in his ear;
If commerce or the naval service,
Potter of Mazarin and Jervis.
Always, with due comparison,
By him let all that 's done be done;
Troops, levies, and ambassadors,
Treaties and taxes, wars and stores;
No blunders or crude schemes are tost,
Each enterprise repays its cost.
He is the pilot at the helm
To succour and to save the realm.
Spare not your Turkey-poult to cram,
He never will suspect you _flam_.

There was a bear of manners rough,
Who could take bee-hives well enough:
He lived by plundered honey-comb,
And raided the industrial home.
Success had puffed him with conceit;
He boasted daily of some feat.
In arrogance right uncontrolled
He grew pragmatic, busy, bold;
And beasts, with reverential stare,
Thought him a most prodigious bear.

He grew dictator in his mood,
And seized on every spoil was good;
From chickens, rising by degrees,
Until he took the butcher's fees:
Then, in his overweening pride,
Over the hounds he would preside;
And, lastly, visiting the rocks,
He took his province from the fox.
And so it happened on a day
A yawl equipped at anchor lay.
He stopped, and thus expressed his mind:
"What blundering puppies are mankind!
What stupid pedantry in schools,
Their compasses and nautic tools!
I will assume the helm, and show
Vain man a dodge he ought to know."

He gained the vessel, took his stand.
The beasts, astonished, lined the strand;
He weighed the anchor, slacked the sail,
Put her about before the gale,
But shipped no rudder: ill then met her;
He ran ashore, and there upset her.

The roach and gudgeon, native there,
Gathered to quiz the floundering bear.
Not so the watermen: the crew
Gathered around to thrash him too;
And merriment ran on the strand
As Bruin, chained, was dragged to land.

FABLE LVI.

SQUIRE AND CUR.

(_To a Country Gentleman._)

Man, with integrity of heart,
Disdains to play a double part:
He bears a moral coat of mail,
When envy snarls and slanders rail.
From virtue's shield the shafts resound,
And his light shines in freedom round.

If in his country's cause he rise,
Unbribed, unawed, he will advise;
Will fear no ministerial frown,
Neither will clamour put him down.
But if you play the politician
With soul averse to the position,
Your lips and teeth must be controlled.

What minister his place could hold
Were falsehood banished from the court,
Or truth to princes gain resort?
The minister would lose his place,
If he could not his foes disgrace.

For none is born a politician
Who cannot lie by intuition:
By which the safety of the throne
Is kept--subservient to his own.
For monarchs must be kept deluded
By falsehood from the lips exuded,
And, ministerial schemes pursuing,
Care nothing for the public ruin.

Antiochus, lost in a chase,
Traversed the wood with mended pace,
And reached a cottage, sore distressed.
A Parthian fed the regal guest,
But knew not whom: the countryman,
Warmed by unwonted wine, began
To talk of courts and talk of kings:

"We country folk, we see such things.
They say the king is good and wise:
Ah! we could open both his eyes.
They say, God bless him! he means good.
Ah! we could open them--we could;--
And show him how his courtiers ride us:
They rob us, and they then deride us.
If King Antiochus could see,
Or if he knew as much as we,
How servants wound a master's name,--
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same,--
If King Antiochus, I say,
Could see, he'd kick those scamps away."

Both in good time their couches sought;
The peasant slept, the monarch thought.
At earliest dawn the courtiers found
And owned the king by trumpet sound.
Unto his rustic host the guest,
With due reward, his thanks expressed;
And turning to his courtier train:
"Since you are bent on private gain,
You may your private gain pursue;
Henceforth I will be quit of you."

A country squire, by whim directed,
The nobler stocks canine neglected;
Nor hound nor pointer by him bred.
Yap was his cur, and Yap was fed;
And Yap brought all his blood relations
To fill the posts and eat the rations;
And to that end it came about
That all the others were turned out.
Now Yap, as curs are wont to do--
If great men's curs--on tradesmen flew,
Unless they bribed him: with a bound
He worried all the tenants round.
For why? he lived in constant fear
Lest they, in hate, should interfere.
So Master Yap would snarl and bite,
Then clap his tail, and fly with fright;
As he, with bay and bristling hair,
Assailed each tradesman who came there.
He deemed, if truth should get admittance,
'Twould followed be by his demittance.

It chanced that Yap, upon a day,
Was by a kins-cur lured to play;
And, as Miss Yaps there were, they thought
Unto Miss Yaps to pay their court,
And had a little hunting bouting,
Like Antony, who so went outing
With Cleopatra.--So pursuing,
Yap and Mark Antony found ruin.
A neighbour passing by, then ventured--
And, seeing the coast clear, he entered.
The squire enjoyed a quiet chat,
And said: "Now tell me, neighbour Mat,
Why do men shun my hall? Of late,
No neighbour enters in my gate;
I do not choose thence to infer----"

"Squire, 'tis nothing but the cur,"
Mat answered him; "with cursed spite,
The brute does nought but bark and bite.
There is some cause, we all agree:
He swears 'tis us--we say 'tis he.
Get rid of him, the snarling brute,
And these old halls shall not be mute;
There nothing is we more desire,
Than lose the cur and win the squire."

The truth prevailed, and with disgrace
The cur was cudgelled out of place.

FABLE LVII.

THE COUNTRYMAN AND JUPITER.

(_To myself._)

NOSCE TEIPSUM: look and spy,
Have you a friend so fond as I?
Have you a fault, to mankind known,
Not hidden unto eyes your own?
When airy castles you importune,
Down falling, by the breath of Fortune,
Did I e'er doubt you should inherit,
If Fortune's wheel devolved on merit?
It was not so; for Fortune's frown
Still perseveres to hold you down.
Then let us seek the cause, and view
What others say and others do.
Have we, like those in place, resigned
Our independency of mind?
Have we had scruples--and therefore
Practising morals, are we poor?
If such be our forlorn position,
Would Fortune mend the lorn condition?
On wealth if happiness were built,
Villains would compass it by guilt.
No: CRESCIT AMOR NUMMI--misers
Are not so heartwhole as are sizars.
Think, O John Gay!--and that's myself--
Should Fortune make you her own elf,
Would that augment your happiness?
Or haply might she make it less?