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."