But he that has th' assault begun,
Ought, says the fabulist, to find
The dread of being served in kind,
A Fox, to sup within his cave
The Stork an invitation gave,
Where, in a shallow dish, was pour'd
Some broth, which he himself devour'd;
While the poor hungry Stork was fain
Inevitably to abstain.
The Stork, in turn, the Fox invites,
And brings her liver and her lights
In a tall flagon, finely minced,
And thrusting in her beak, convinced
The Fox that he in grief must fast,
While she enjoy'd the rich repast.
Then, as in vain he lick'd the neck,
The Stork was heard her guest to check,
"That every one the fruits should bear
Of their example, is but fair."
XXVII. THE DOG, TREASURE, AND VULTURE.
A Dog, while scratching up the ground,
'Mongst human bones a treasure found;
But as his sacrilege was great,
To covet riches was his fate,
And punishment of his offence;
He therefore never stirr'd from thence,
But both in hunger and the cold,
With anxious care he watch'd the gold,
Till wholly negligent of food,
A ling'ring death at length ensued.
Upon his corse a Vulture stood,
And thus descanted:-- "It is good,
O Dog, that there thou liest bereaved
Who in the highway wast conceived,
And on a scurvy dunghill bred,
Hadst royal riches in thy head."
XXVIII. THE FOX AND EAGLE.
Howe'er exalted in your sphere,
There's something from the mean to fear;
For, if their property you wrong,
The poor's revenge is quick and strong.
When on a time an Eagle stole
The cubs from out a Fox's hole,
And bore them to her young away,
That they might feast upon the prey,
The dam pursues the winged thief,
And deprecates so great a grief;
But safe upon the lofty tree,
The Eagle scorn'd the Fox's plea.
With that the Fox perceived at hand
An altar, whence she snatch'd a brand,
And compassing with flames the wood,
Put her in terror for her brood.
She therefore, lest her house should burn,
Submissive did the cubs return.
XXIX. THE FROGS AND BULLS.
Men of low life are in distress
When great ones enmity profess.
There was a Bull-fight in the fen,
A Frog cried out in trouble then,
"Oh, what perdition on our race!"
"How," says another, "can the case
Be quite so desp'rate as you've said?
For they're contending who is head,
And lead a life from us disjoin'd,
Of sep'rate station, diverse kind."--
"But he, who worsted shall retire,
Will come into this lowland mire,
And with his hoof dash out our brains,
Wherefore their rage to us pertains."
XXX. THE KITE AND THE DOVES.
He that would have the wicked reign,
Instead of help will find his bane.
The Doves had oft escaped the Kite,
By their celerity of flight;
The ruffian then to coz'nage stoop'd,
And thus the tim'rous race he duped:
"Why do you lead a life of fear,
Rather than my proposals hear?
Elect me for your king, and
I Will all your race indemnify."
They foolishly the Kite believed,
Who having now the pow'r received,
Began upon the Doves to prey,
And exercise tyrannic sway.
"Justly," says one who yet remain'd,
"We die the death ourselves ordain'd."
BOOK II.
PROLOGUE.
The way of writing Esop chose,
Sound doctrine by example shows;
For nothing by these tales is meant,
So much as that the bad repent;
And by the pattern that is set,
Due diligence itself should whet.
Wherefore, whatever arch conceit
You in our narratives shall meet
(If with the critic's ear it take,
And for some special purpose make),
Aspires by real use to fame,
Rather than from an author's name.
In fact, with all the care I can,
I shall abide by Esop's plan:
But if at times I intersperse
My own materials in the verse,
That sweet variety may please
The fancy, and attention ease;
Receive it in a friendly way;
Which grace I purpose to repay
By this consciousness of my song;
Whose praises, lest they be too long,
Attend, why you should stint the sneak,
But give the modest, ere they seek.
FABLE I. THE JUDICIOUS LION.
A Lion on the carcass stood
Of a young heifer in the wood;
A robber that was passing there,
Came up, and ask'd him for a share.
"A share," says he, "you should receive,
But that you seldom ask our leave
For things so handily removed."
At which the ruffian was reproved.
It happen'd that the selfsame day
A modest pilgrim came that way,
And when he saw the Lion, fled:
Says he, "There is no cause of dread,
In gentle tone--take you the chine,
Which to your merit I assign."--
Then having parted what he slew,
To favour his approach withdrew.
A great example, worthy praise,
But not much copied now-a-days!
For churls have coffers that o'erflow,
And sheepish worth is poor and low.
II. THE BALD-PATE DUPE.
Fondling or fondled--any how--
(Examples of all times allow)
That men by women must be fleeced.
A dame, whose years were well increased,
But skill'd t' affect a youthful mien,
Was a staid husband's empress queen;
Who yet sequester'd half his heart
For a young damsel, brisk and smart.
They, while each wanted to attach
Themselves to him, and seem his match,
Began to tamper with his hair.
He, pleased with their officious care,
Was on a sudden made a coot;
For the young strumpet, branch and root,
Stripp'd of the hoary hairs his crown,
E'en as th' old cat grubb'd up the brown.
III. THE MAN AND THE DOG.
Torn by a Cur, a man was led
To throw the snappish thief some bread
Dipt in the blood, which, he was told,
Had been a remedy of old. Then
Esop thus:-- "Forbear to show
A pack of dogs the thing you do,
Lest they should soon devour us quite,
When thus rewarded as they bite."
One wicked miscreant's success
Makes many more the trade profess.
IV. THE EAGLE, THE CAT, AND THE SOW.
An Eagle built upon an oak
A Cat and kittens had bespoke
A hole about the middle bough;
And underneath a woodland
Sow Had placed her pigs upon the ground.
Then treach'rous Puss a method found
To overthrow, for her own good,
The peace of this chance neighbourhood
First to the Eagle she ascends--
"Perdition on your head impends,
And, far too probable, on mine;
For you observe that grubbing
Swine Still works the tree to overset,
Us and our young with ease to get."
Thus having filled the Eagle's pate
With consternation very great,
Down creeps she to the Sow below;
"The Eagle is your deadly foe,
And is determined not to spare
Your pigs, when you shall take the air."
Here too a terror being spread,
By what this tattling gossip said,
She slily to her kittens stole,
And rested snug within her hole.
Sneaking from thence with silent tread
By night her family she fed,
But look'd out sharply all the day,
Affecting terror and dismay.
The Eagle lest the tree should fall,
Keeps to the boughs, nor stirs at all;
And anxious for her grunting race,
The Sow is loth to quit her place.
In short, they and their young ones starve,
And leave a prey for Puss to carve.
Hence warn'd ye credulous and young,
Be cautious of a double tongue.
V. CÆSAR AND HIS SLAVE.
There is in town a certain set
Of mortals, ever in a sweat,
Who idly bustling here and there,
Have never any time to spare,
While upon nothing they discuss
With heat, and most outrageous fuss,
Plague to themselves, and to the rest
A most intolerable pest.
I will correct this stupid clan
Of busy-bodies, if I can,
By a true story; lend an ear,
'Tis worth a trifler's time to hear.
Tiberius Cæsar, in his way
To Naples, on a certain day
Came to his own Misenian seat,
(Of old Lucullus's retreat,)
Which from the mountain top surveys
Two seas, by looking different ways.
Here a shrewd slave began to cringe
With dapper coat and sash of fringe,
And, as his master walk'd between
The trees upon the tufted green,
Finding the weather very hot,
Officiates with his wat'ring-pot;
And still attending through the glade,
Is ostentatious of his aid.
Cæsar turns to another row,
Where neither sun nor rain could go;
He, for the nearest cut he knows,
Is still before with pot and rose.
Cæsar observes him twist and shift,
And understands the fellow's drift;
"Here, you sir," says th' imperial lord.
The bustler, hoping a reward,
Runs skipping up. The chief in jest
Thus the poor jackanapes address'd
"As here is no great matter done,
Small is the premium you have won:
The cuffs that make a servant free,
Are for a better man than thee."
VI. THE EAGLE, CARRION CROW, AND TORTOISE.
No soul can warrant life or right,
Secure from men of lawless might;
But if a knave's advice assist,
'Gainst fraud and force what can exist?
An Eagle on a Tortoise fell,
And mounting bore him by the shell:
She with her house her body screens,
Nor can be hurt by any means.
A Carrion Crow came by that way,
"You've got," says she, "a luscious prey;
But soon its weight will make you rue,
Unless I show you what to do."
The captor promising a share,
She bids her from the upper air
To dash the shell against a rock,
Which would be sever'd by the shock.
The Eagle follows her behest,
Then feasts on turtle with his guest.
Thus she, whom Nature made so strong,
And safe against external wrong,
No match for force, and its allies,
To cruel death a victim dies.
VII. THE MULES AND ROBBERS.
Two laden Mules were on the road--
A charge of money was bestowed
Upon the one, the other bore
Some sacks of barley. He before.
Proud of his freight, begun to swell,
Stretch'd out his neck, and shook his bell.
The poor one, with an easy pace,
Came on behind a little space,
When on a sudden, from the wood
A gang of thieves before them stood;
And, while the muleteers engage,
Wound the poor creature in their rage
Eager they seize the golden prize,
But the vile barley-bags despise.
The plunder'd mule was all forlorn,
The other thank'd them for their scorn:
"'Tis now my turn the head to toss,
Sustaining neither wound nor loss."
The low estate's from peril clear,
But wealthy men have much to fear.
VIII. THE STAG AND THE OXEN.
A Stag unharbour'd by the hounds,
Forth from his woodland covert bounds,
And blind with terror, at th' alarm
Of death, makes to a neighb'ring farm;
There snug conceals him in some straw,
Which in an ox's stall he saw.
"Wretch that thou art!" a bullock cried,
"That com'st within this place to hide;
By trusting man you are undone,
And into sure destruction run."
But he with suppliant voice replies:
"Do you but wink with both your eyes,
I soon shall my occasions shape,
To make from hence a fair escape."
The day is spent, the night succeeds,
The herdsman comes, the cattle feeds,
But nothing sees--then to and fro
Time after time the servants go;
Yet not a soul perceives the case.
The steward passes by the place,
Himself no wiser than the rest.
The joyful Stag his thanks address'd
To all the Oxen, that he there
Had found a refuge in despair.
"We wish you well," an Ox return'd,
"But for your life are still concern'd,
For if old Argus come, no doubt,
His hundred eyes will find you out."
Scarce had the speaker made an end,
When from the supper of a friend
The master enters at the door,
And, seeing that the steers were poor
Of late, advances to the rack.
"Why were the fellow's hands so slack?
Here's hardly any straw at all,
Brush down those cobwebs from the wall.
Pray how much labour would it ask?"
While thus he undertakes the task,
To dust, and rummage by degrees,
The Stag's exalted horns he sees:
Then calling all his folks around,
He lays him breathless on the ground.
The master, as the tale declares,
Looks sharpest to his own affairs.
EPILOGUE.
A statue of great cost and fame
Th' Athenians raised to Esop's name,
Him setting on th' eternal base,
Whom servile rank could not disgrace;
That they might teach to all mankind
The way to honor's unconfined,
That glory's due to rising worth,
And not alone to pomp and birth.
Since then another seized the post
Lest I priority should boast,
This pow'r and praise was yet my own,
That he should not excel alone:
Nor is this Envy's jealous ire,
But Emulation's genuine fire.
And if Rome should approve my piece,
She'll soon have more to rival Greece.
But should th' invidious town declare
Against my plodding over-care,
They cannot take away, nor hurt
Th' internal conscience of desert.
If these my studies reach their aim,
And, reader, your attention claim,
If your perception fully weighs
The drift of these my labour'd lays;
Then such success precludes complaint.
But if the Picture which I paint
Should happen to attract their sight,
Whom luckless Nature brought to light,
Who scorn the labours of a man,
And when they carp do all they can;
Yet must this fatal cause to mourn
With all its bitterness be borne,
Till fortune be ashamed of days,
When genius fails, and int'rest sways.
BOOK III.
PROLOGUE, TO EUTYCHUS.
The tales of Phædrus would you read,
O Eutychus, you must be freed
From business, that the mind unbent
May take the author's full intent.
You urge that this poetic turn
Of mine is not of such concern,
As with your time to interfere
A moment's space: 'tis therefore clear
For those essays you have no call,
Which suit not your affairs at all.
A time may come, perhaps you'll say,
That I shall make a holiday,
And have my vacant thoughts at large,
The student's office to discharge--
And can you such vile stuff peruse,
Rather than serve domestic views,
Return the visits of a friend,
Or with your wife your leisure spend,
Relax your mind, your limbs relieve,
And for new toil new strength receive?
From worldly cares you must estrange
Your thoughts, and feel a perfect change,
If to Parnassus you repair,
And seek for your admission there,
Me--(whom a Grecian mother bore
On Hill Pierian, where of yore
Mnemosyne in love divine
Brought forth to Jove the tuneful Nine.
Though sprung where genius reign'd with art,
I grubb'd up av'rice from my heart,
And rather for applause than pay,
Embrace the literary way)
Yet as a writer and a wit,
With some abatements they admit.
What is his case then, do you think,
Who toils for wealth nor sleeps a wink,
Preferring to the pleasing pain
Of composition sordid gain?
But hap what will (as Sinon said,
When to king Priam he was led),
I book the third shall now fulfil,
With Æsop for my master still;
Which book I dedicate to you,
As both to worth and honour due.
Pleased, if you read--if not, content
As conscious of a sure event,
That these my fables shall remain,
And after-ages entertain.
In a few words I now propose
To point from whence the Fable rose.
A servitude was all along
Exposed to most oppressive wrong,
The suff'rer therefore did not dare
His heart's true dictates to declare;
But couch'd his meaning in the veil
Of many an allegoric tale,
And jesting with a moral aim,
Eluded all offence and blame.
This is the path that I pursue,
Inventing more than Æsop knew;
And certain topics by-the-by,
To my own hindrence did I try.
But was there any of mankind,
Besides Sejanus, so inclined,
Who was alone to work my fall,
Informer, witness, judge and all;
I would confess the slander true,
And own such hardships were my due;
Nor would I fly, my grief to ease,
To such poor lenitives as these.
If any through suspicion errs,
And to himself alone refers,
What was design'd for thousands more
He'll show too plainly, where he's sore.
Yet ev'n from such I crave excuse,
For (far from personal abuse)
My verse in gen'ral would put down
True life and manners of the town.
But here, perhaps, some one will ask
Why I, forsooth, embraced this task?
If Esop, though a Phrygian, rose,
And ev'n derived from Scythian snows;
If Anacharsis could devise
By wit to gain th' immortal prize;
Shall I, who to learn'd Greece belong,
Neglect her honour and her song,
And by dull sloth myself disgrace?
Since we can reckon up in Thrace,
The authors that have sweetest sung,
Where Linus from Apollo sprung;
And he whose mother was a muse,
Whose voice could tenderness infuse
To solid rocks, strange monsters quell'd,
And Hebrus in his course withheld.
Envy, stand clear, or thou shalt rue
Th' attack, for glory is my due.
Thus having wrought upon your ear,
I beg that you would be sincere,
And in the poet's cause avow
That candor, all the world allow.
FABLE I. THE OLD WOMAN AND EMPTY CASK.
An ancient dame a firkin sees,
In which the rich Falernian lees
Send from the nobly tinctured shell
A rare and most delicious smell!
There when a season she had clung
With greedy nostrils to the bung,
"O spirit exquisitely sweet!"
She cried, "how perfectly complete
Were you of old, and at the best,
When ev'n your dregs have such a zest!"
They'll see the drift of this my rhyme,
Who knew the author in his prime.
II. THE PANTHER AND SHEPHERDS.
Their scorn comes home to them again
Who treat the wretched with disdain.
A careless Panther long ago
Fell in a pit, which overthrow
The Shepherds all around alarm'd;
When some themselves with cudgels arm'd;
Others threw stones upon its head;
But some in pity sent her bread,
As death was not the creature's due.
The night came on--the hostile crew
Went home, not doubting in the way
To find the Panther dead next day.
But she, recovering of her strength,
Sprang from the pit and fled at length.
But rushing in a little space
From forth her den upon the place,
She tears the flock, the Shepherd slays,
And all the region round dismays.
Then they began to be afraid
Who spared the beast and lent their aid;
They reck not of the loss, but make
Their pray'r for life, when thus she spake:
"I well remember them that threw
The stones, and well remember you
Who gave me bread--desist to fear,
For 'twas the oppressor brought me here."
III. THE APE'S HEAD.
A certain person, as he stood
Within the shambles buying food,
Amongst the other kitchen fare
Beheld an Ape suspended there;
And asking how 'twould taste, when dress'd,
The butcher shook his head in jest;
"If for such prog your fancy is,
Judge of the flavour by the phiz."
This speech was not so true as keen,
For I in life have often seen
Good features with a wicked heart,
And plainness acting virtue's part.
IV. ESOP AND THE INSOLENT FELLOW.
Fools from success perdition meet.
An idle wretch about the street
At Esop threw a stone in rage.
"So much the better," quoth the sage,
And gives three farthings for the job;
"I've no more money in my fob;
But if you'll follow my advice,
More shall be levied in a trice."
It happen'd that the selfsame hour
Came by a man of wealth and pow'r.
"There, throw your pellet at my lord,
And you shall have a sure reward!"
The fellow did as he was told;
But mark the downfall of the bold;
His hopes are baulk'd, and, lo! he gains
A rope and gibbet for his pains.
V. THE FLY AND THE MULE.
A Fly that sat upon the beam Rated the
Mule: "Why, sure you dream?
Pray get on faster with the cart
Or I shall sting you till you smart!"
She answers: "All this talk I hear
With small attention, but must fear
Him who upon the box sustains
The pliant whip, and holds the reins.
Cease then your pertness--for I know
When to give back, and when to go."
This tale derides the talking crew,
Whose empty threats are all they do.
VI. THE DOG AND THE WOLF.
I will, as briefly as I may,
The sweets of liberty display.
A Wolf half famish'd, chanced to see
A Dog, as fat as dog could be:
For one day meeting on the road,
They mutual compliments bestowed:
"Prithee," says Isgrim, faint and weak,
"How came you so well fed and sleek?
I starve, though stronger of the two."
"It will be just as well with you,"
The Dog quite cool and frank replied,
"If with my master you'll abide."
"For what?" "Why merely to attend,
And from night thieves the door defend."
"I gladly will accept the post,
What! shall I bear with snow and frost
And all this rough inclement plight,
Rather than have a home at night,
And feed on plenty at my ease?"
"Come, then, with me" --the Wolf agrees.
But as they went the mark he found,
Where the Dog's collar had been bound:
"What's this, my friend?" "Why, nothing."
"Nay, Be more explicit, sir, I pray."
"I'm somewhat fierce and apt to bite,
Therefore they hold me pretty tight,
That in the day-time I may sleep,
And night by night my vigils keep.
At evening tide they let me out,
And then I freely walk about:
Bread comes without a care of mine.
I from my master's table dine;
The servants throw me many a scrap,
With choice of pot-liquor to lap;
So, I've my bellyful, you find."
"But can you go where you've a mind?"
"Not always, to be flat and plain."
"Then, Dog, enjoy your post again,
For to remain this servile thing,
Old Isgrim would not be a king."
VII. THE BROTHER AND SISTER.
Warn'd by our council, oft beware,
And look into yourself with care.
There was a certain father had
A homely girl and comely lad.
These being at their childish play
Within their mother's room one day,
A looking-glass was in the chair,
And they beheld their faces there.
The boy grows prouder as he looks;
The girl is in a rage, nor brooks
Her boasting brother's jests and sneers,
Affronted at each word she hears:
Then to her father down she flies,
And urges all she can devise
Against the boy, who could presume
To meddle in a lady's room.
At which, embracing each in turn,
With most affectionate concern,
"My dears," he says, "ye may not pass
A day without this useful glass;
You, lest you spoil a pretty face,
By doing things to your disgrace;
You, by good conduct to correct
Your form, and beautify defect."
VIII. A SAYING OF SOCRATES.
Though common be the name of friend,
Few can to faithfulness pretend,
That Socrates (whose cruel case,
I'd freely for his fame embrace,
And living any envy bear
To leave my character so fair)
Was building of a little cot,
When some one, standing on the spot,
Ask'd, as the folks are apt to do,
"How comes so great a man as you
Content with such a little hole?"--
"I wish," says he, "with all my soul
That this same little house I build
Was with true friends completely fill'd."
IX. OF DOUBT AND CREDULITY.
'Tis frequently of bad event
To give or to withhold assent.
Two cases will th' affair explain--
The good Hippolytus was slain;
In that his stepdame credit found,
And Troy was levell'd with the ground;
Because Cassandra's prescious care
Sought, but obtain'd no credence there.
The facts should then be very strong,
Lest the weak judge determine wrong:
But that I may not make too free
With fabulous antiquity,
I now a curious tale shall tell,
Which I myself remember well.
An honest man, that loved his wife,
Was introducing into life
A son upon the man's estate.
One day a servant (whom, of late,
He with his freedom had endu'd)
Took him aside, and being shrewd,
Supposed that he might be his heir
When he'd divulged the whole affair.
Much did he lie against the youth,
But more against the matron's truth:
And hinted that, which worst of all
Was sure a lover's heart to gall,
The visits of a lusty rake,
And honour of his house at stake.
He at this scandal taking heat,
Pretends a journey to his seat;
But stopp'd at hand, while it was light,
Where, on a sudden, and by night,
He to his wife's apartment sped,
Where she had put the lad to bed,
As watchful of his youthful bloom.
While now they're running to the room,
And seek a light in haste, the sire,
No longer stifling of his ire,
Flies to the couch, where grouping round,
A head, but newly shaved, he found;
Then, as alone, he vengeance breath'd,
The sword within his bosom sheath'd--
The candle ent'ring, when he spied
The bleeding youth, and by his side
The spotless dame, who being fast
Asleep, knew nothing that had pass'd,
Instant in utmost grief involved,
He vengeance for himself resolved;
And on that very weapon flew,
Which his too cred'lous fury drew.
Th' accusers take the woman straight,
And drag to the centumvirate;
Th' ill-natured world directly built
A strong suspicion of her guilts,
As she th' estate was to enjoy--
The lawyers all their skill employ;
And a great spirit those exert
Who most her innocence assert.
The judges then to Cæsar pray'd
That he would lend his special aid;
Who, as they acted upon oath,
Declared themselves extremely loth
To close this intricate affair--
He, taking then himself the chair,
The clouds of calumny displaced.
And Truth up to her fountain traced.
"Let the freedman to vengeance go,
The cause of all this scene of woe:
For the poor widow, thus undone,
Deprived of husband and of son,
To pity has a greater plea
Than condemnation, I decree--
But if the man, with caution due,
Had rather blamed than listen'd to
The vile accuser, and his lie
Had strictly search'd with Reason's eye,
This desp'rate guilt he had not known,
Nor branch and root his house o'erthrown."
Nor wholly scorn, nor yet attend
Too much at what the tatlers vend,
Because there's many a sad neglect.
Where you have little to suspect;
And treach'rous persons will attaint
Men, against whom there's no complaint.
Hence simple folks too may be taught
How to form judgments as they ought,
And not see with another's glass;
For things are come to such a pass,
That love and hate work diff'rent ways,
As int'rest or ambition sways.
Them you may know, in them confide,
Whom by experience you have tried.
Thus have I made a long amends
For that brief style which some offends.
XI. THE COCK AND THE PEARL.
A Cock, while scratching all around,
A Pearl upon the dunghill found:
"O splendid thing in foul disgrace,
Had there been any in the place
That saw and knew thy worth when sold,
Ere this thou hadst been set in gold.
But I, who rather would have got
A corn of barley, heed thee not;
No service can there render'd be
From me to you, and you to me."
I write this tale to them alone
To whom in vain my pearls are thrown.
XII. THE BEES AND THE DRONES.
Up in a lofty oak the Bees
Had made their honey-combs: but these
The Drones asserted they had wrought.
Then to the bar the cause was brought
Before the wasp, a learned chief,
Who well might argue either brief,
As of a middle nature made.
He therefore to both parties said:
"You're not dissimilar in size,
And each with each your color vies,
That there's a doubt concerning both:
But, lest I err, upon my oath,
Hives for yourselves directly choose,
And in the wax the work infuse,
That, from the flavor and the form,
We may point out the genuine swarm."
The Drones refuse, the Bees agree--
Then thus did Justice Wasp decree:
"Who can, and who cannot, is plain,
So take, ye Bees, your combs again."
This narrative had been suppress'd
Had not the Drones refused the test.
XIII. ESOP PLAYING.
As Esop was with boys at play,
And had his nuts as well as they,
A grave Athenian, passing by,
Cast on the sage a scornful eye,
As on a dotard quite bereaved:
Which, when the moralist perceived,
(Rather himself a wit profess'd
Than the poor subject of a jest)
Into the public way he flung
A bow that he had just unstrung:
"There solve, thou conjurer," he cries,
"The problem, that before thee lies."
The people throng; he racks his brain,
Nor can the thing enjoin'd explain.
At last he gives it up--the seer
Thus then in triumph made it clear:
"As the tough bow exerts its spring,
A constant tension breaks the string;
But if 'tis let at seasons loose,
You may depend upon its use."
Thus recreative sports and play
Are good upon a holiday,
And with more spirit they'll pursue
The studies which they shall renew.
XIV. THE DOG AND THE LAMB.
A Dog bespoke a sucking Lamb,
That used a she-goat as her dam,
"You little fool, why, how you baa!
This goat is not your own mamma:"
Then pointed to a distant mead,
Where several sheep were put to feed.
"I ask not," says the Lamb, "for her
Who had me first at Nature's spur,
And bore me for a time about,
Then, like a fardel, threw me out;
But her that is content to bilk
Her own dear kids, to give me milk."
"Yet she that yean'd you sure," says Tray,
"Should be preferr'd" --"I tell thee nay--
Whence could she know that what she hid
Was black or white?--but grant she did--
I being thus a male begot
'Twas no great favor, since my lot
Was hour by hour, throughout my life,
To dread the butcher and his knife.
Why should I therefore give my voice
For her who had no pow'r or choice
In my production, and not cleave
To her so ready to relieve,
When she beheld me left alone,
And has such sweet indulgence shown?"
Kind deeds parental love proclaim,
Not mere necessity and name.
XV. THE OWL AND THE GRASSHOPPER.
Those who will not the forms obey
To be obliging in their way,
Must often punishment abide
For their ill-nature, and their pride.
A Grasshopper, in rank ill-will,
Was very loud and very shrill
Against a sapient Owl's repose,
Who was compelled by day to doze
Within a hollow oak's retreat,
As wont by night to quest for meat--
She is desired to hold her peace.
But at the word her cries increase;
Again requested to abate
Her noise, she's more importunate.
The Owl perceiving no redress,
And that her words were less and less
Accounted of, no longer pray'd,
But thus an artifice essay'd:
"Since 'tis impossible to nod,
While harping like the Delphian god,
You charm our ears, stead of a nap,
A batch of nectar will I tap,
Which lately from Minerva came;
Now if you do not scorn the same,
Together let us bumpers ply."
The Grasshopper, extremely dry,
And, finding she had hit the key
That gain'd applause, approach'd with glee;
At which the Owl upon her flew,
And quick the trembling vixen slew.
Thus by her death she was adjudged
To give what in her life she grudged.
XVI. THE TREES PROTECTED.
The gods took certain trees (th' affair
Was some time since) into their care.
The oak was best approved by Jove,
The myrtle by the queen of love;
The god of music and the day
Vouchsafed to patronise the bay;
The pine Cybele chanced to please,
And the tall poplar Hercules.
Minerva upon this inquired
Why they all barren trees admired?
"The cause," says Jupiter, "is plain,
Lest we give honour up for gain."
"Let every one their fancy suit,
I choose the olive for its fruit."
The sire of gods and men replies,
"Daughter, thou shalt be reckon'd wise
By all the world, and justly too;
For whatsover things we do,
If not a life of useful days,
How vain is all pretence to praise!"
Whate'er experiments you try,
Have some advantage in your eye.
XVII. JUNO AND THE PEACOCK.
Her fav'rite bird to Juno came,
And was in dudgeon at the dame,
That she had not attuned her throat
With Philomela's matchless note;
"She is the wonder of all ears;
But when I speak the audience sneers."
The goddess to the bird replied,
(Willing to have him pacified,)
"You are above the rest endued
With beauty and with magnitude;
Your neck the em'rald's gloss outvies,
And what a blaze of gemmeous dies
Shines from the plumage of your tail!"
"All this dumb show will not avail,"
Cries he, "if I'm surpass'd in voice."
"The fates entirely have the choice
Of all the lots--fair form is yours;
The eagle's strength his prey secures;
The nightingale can sing an ode;
The crow and raven may forebode:
All these in sheer contentment crave
No other voice than Nature gave."
By affectation be not sway'd,
Where Nature has not lent her aid;
Nor to that flatt'ring hope attend,
Which must in disappointment end.
XVIII. ESOP AND THE IMPORTUNATE FELLOW.
Esop (no other slave at hand)
Received himself his lord's command
An early supper to provide.
From house to house he therefore tried
To beg the favor of a light;
At length he hit upon the right.
But as when first he sallied out
He made his tour quite round about,
On his return he took a race
Directly, cross the market-place:
When thus a talkative buffoon,
"Esop, what means this light at noon?"
He answer'd briefly, as he ran,
"Fellow, I'm looking for a man."
Now if this jackanapes had weigh'd
The true intent of what was said,
He'd found that Esop had no sense
Of manhood in impertinence.
XIX. THE ASS AND PRIESTS OF CYBELE.
The luckless wretch that's born to woe
Must all his life affliction know--
And harder still, his cruel fate
Will on his very ashes wait.
Cybele's priests, in quest of bread,
An Ass about the village led,
With things for sale from door to door;
Till work'd and beaten more and more,
At length, when the poor creature died,
They made them drums out of his hide.
Then question'd "how it came to pass
They thus could serve their darling Ass?"
The answer was, "He thought of peace
In death, and that his toils would cease;
But see his mis'ry knows no bounds,
Still with our blows his back resounds."
BOOK IV.
PROLOGUE.
To you, who've graver things bespoke,
This seems no better than a joke,
And light for mere amusement made;
Yet still we drive the scribbling trade,
And from the pen our pleasure find,
When we've no greater things to mind.
Yet if you look with care intense,
These tales your toil shall recompense;
Appearance is not always true,
And thousands err by such a view.
'Tis a choice spirit that has pried
Where clean contrivance chose to hide;
That this is not at random said,
I shall produce upon this head
A fable of an arch device,
About the Weasel and the Mice.
FABLE I. THE WEAZEL AND MICE.
A Weasel, worn with years, and lame,
That could not overtake its game,
Now with the nimble Mice to deal,
Disguised herself with barley meal;
Then negligent her limbs she spread
In a sly nook, and lay for dead.
A Mouse that thought she there might feed,
Leapt up, and perish'd in the deed;
A second in like manner died;
A third, and sundry more beside:
Then comes the brindled Mouse, a chap
That oft escaped both snare and trap,
And seeing how the trick was played,
Thus to his crafty foe he said:--
"So may'st thou prosper day and night,
As thou art not an errant bite."
II. THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.
An hungry Fox with fierce attack
Sprang on a Vine, but tumbled back,
Nor could attain the point in view,
So near the sky the bunches grew.
As he went off, "They're scurvy stuff,"
Says he, "and not half ripe enough--
And I've more rev'rence for my tripes
Than to torment them with the gripes."
For those this tale is very pat
Who lessen what they can't come at.
III. THE HORSE AND BOAR.
A Wild-Boar wallow'd in the flood,
And troubled all the stream with mud,
Just where a horse to drink repair'd--
He therefore having war declared,
Sought man's alliance for the fight,
And bore upon his back the knight;
Who being skill'd his darts to throw,
Despatched the Wild-Boar at a blow.
Then to the steed the victor said,
"I'm glad you came to me for aid,
For taught how useful you can be,
I've got at once a spoil and thee."
On which the fields he made him quit,
To feel the spur and champ the bit.
Then he his sorrow thus express'd:
"I needs must have my wrongs redress'd,
And making tyrant man the judge,
Must all my life become a drudge."
This tale the passionate may warn,
To bear with any kind of scorn;
And rather all complaint withdraw
Than either go to war or law.
IV. ESOP AND THE WILL.
That one man sometimes is more shrewd
Than a stupendous multitude,
To after-times I shall rehearse
In my concise familiar verse.
A certain man on his decease,
Left his three girls so much a-piece:
The first was beautiful and frail,
With eyes still hunting for the male;
The second giv'n to spin and card,
A country housewife working hard;
The third but very ill to pass,
A homely slut, that loved her glass.
The dying man had left his wife
Executrix, and for her life
Sole tenant, if she should fulfil
These strange provisos of his will:
"That she should give th' estate in fee
In equal portions to the three;
But in such sort, that this bequest
Should not be holden or possess'd;
Then soon as they should be bereav'n
Of all the substance that was giv'n,
They must for their good mother's ease
Make up an hundred sesterces."
This spread through Athens in a trice;
The prudent widow takes advice.
But not a lawyer could unfold
How they should neither have nor hold
The very things that they were left.
Besides, when once they were bereft,
How they from nothing should confer
The money that was due to her.
When a long time was spent in vain,
And no one could the will explain,
She left the counsellors unfeed,
And thus of her own self decreed:
The minstrels, trinkets, plate, and dress,
She gave the Lady to possess.
Then Mrs. Notable she stocks
With all the fields, the kine and flocks:
The workmen, farm, with a supply
Of all the tools of husbandry.
Last, to the Guzzler she consigns
The cellar stored with good old wines,
A handsome house to see a friend,
With pleasant gardens at the end.
Thus as she strove th' affair to close,
By giving each the things they chose,
And those that knew them every one
Highly applauded what was done
Esop arose, and thus address'd
The crowd that to his presence press'd:
"O that the dead could yet perceive!
How would the prudent father grieve,
That all th' Athenians had not skill
Enough to understand his will!"
Then at their joint request he solved
That error, which had all involved.
"The gardens, house, and wine vaults too,
Give to the spinster as her due;
The clothes, the jewels, and such ware,
Be all the tippling lady's share;
The fields, the barns, and flocks of sheep,
Give the gay courtesan to keep.
Not one will bear the very touch
Of things that thwart their tastes so much;
The slut to fill her cellar straight
Her wardrobe will evacuate;
The lady soon will sell her farms,
For garments to set off her charms;
But she that loves the flocks and kine
Will alienate her stores of wine,
Her rustic genius to employ.
Thus none their portions shall enjoy,
And from the money each has made
Their mother shall be duly paid."
Thus one man by his wit disclosed
The point that had so many posed.
V. THE BATTLE OF THE MICE AND WEASELS.
The routed Mice upon a day
Fled from the Weasels in array;
But in the hurry of the flight,
What with their weakness and their fright
Each scarce could get into his cave:
Howe'er, at last their lives they save.
But their commanders (who had tied
Horns to their heads in martial pride,
Which as a signal they design'd
For non-commission'd mice to mind)
Stick in the entrance as they go,
And there are taken by the foe,
Who, greedy of the victim, gluts
With mouse-flesh his ungodly guts.
Each great and national distress
Must chiefly mighty men oppress;
While folks subordinate and poor
Are by their littleness secure.
VI. PHÆDRUS TO THE CAVILLERS.
Thou that against my tales inveigh'st,
As much too pleasant for thy taste;
Egregious critic, cease to scoff,
While for a time I play you off,
And strive to soothe your puny rage.
As Esop comes upon the stage,
And dress'd entirely new in Rome,
Thus enters with the tragic plume.--
"O that the fair Thessalian pine
Had never felt the wrath divine,
And fearless of the axe's wound,
Had still the Pelian mountain crown'd!
That Argus by Palladian aid
Had ne'er the advent'rous vessel made;
In which at first, without dismay,
Death's bold professors won their way,
In which th' inhospitable main
Was first laid open for the bane
Of Grecians and barbarians too.
Which made the proud Æetas rue,
And whence Medea's crimes to nought
The house and reign of Pelias brought.
She--while in various forms she tries
Her furious spirit to disguise,
At one place in her flight bestow'd
Her brother's limbs upon the road;
And at another could betray
The daughters their own sire to slay."
How think you now?--What arrant trash!
And our assertions much too rash!--
Since prior to th' Ægean fleet
Did Minos piracy defeat,
And made adventures on the sea.
How then shall you and I agree?
Since, stern as Cato's self, you hate
All tales alike, both small and great.
Plague not too much the man of parts;
For he that does it surely smarts.--
This threat is to the fools, that squeam
At every thing of good esteem;
And that they may to taste pretend,
Ev'n heaven itself will discommend.
VII. THE VIPER AND THE FILE.
He that a greater biter bites,
His folly on himself requites,
As we shall manifest forthwith.--
There was a hovel of a smith,
Where a poor Viper chanced to steal,
And being greedy of a meal,
When she had seized upon a file,
Was answer'd in this rugged style:
"Why do you think, O stupid snake!
On me your usual meal to make,
Who've sharper teeth than thine by far,
And can corrode an iron bar?"
VIII. THE FOX AND THE GOAT.
A crafty knave will make escape,
When once he gets into a scrape,
Still meditating self-defence,
At any other man's expense.
A Fox by some disaster fell
Into a deep and fenced well:
A thirsty Goat came down in haste,
And ask'd about the water's taste,
If it was plentiful and sweet?
At which the Fox, in rank deceit,
"So great the solace of the run,
I thought I never should have done.
Be quick, my friend, your sorrows drown."
This said, the silly Goat comes down.
The subtle Fox herself avails,
And by his horns the mound she scales,
And leaves the Goat in all the mire,
To gratify his heart's desire.
IX. THE TWO BAGS.
Great Jove, in his paternal care,
Has giv'n a man two Bags to bear;
That which his own default contains
Behind his back unseen remains;
But that which others' vice attests
Swags full in view before our breasts.
Hence we're inevitably blind,
Relating to the Bag behind;
But when our neighbours misdemean,
Our censures are exceeding keen.
X. THE SACRILEGIOUS THIEF.
A villain to Jove's altar came
To light his candle in the flame,
And robb'd the god in dead of night,
By his own consecrated light:
Then thus an awful voice was sent,
As with the sacrilege he went:
"Though all this gold and silver plate
As gifts of evil men I hate;
And their removal from the fane
Can cause the Deity no pain;
Yet, caitiff, at th' appointed time,
Thy life shall answer for thy crime.
But, for the future, lest this blaze,
At which the pious pray and praise,
Should guide the wicked, I decree
That no such intercourse there be."
Hence to this day all men decline
To light their candle at the shrine;
Nor from a candle e'er presume
The holy light to re-illume.
How many things are here contain'd,
By him alone can be explain'd
Who could this useful tale invent.
In the first place, herein is meant,
That they are often most your foes
Who from your fost'ring hand arose.
Next, that the harden'd villain's fate
Is not from wrath precipitate,
But rather at a destined hour.
Lastly, we're charg'd with all our pow'r,
To keep ourselves, by care intense,
From all connexions with offence.
XI. HERCULES AND PLUTUS.
Wealth by the brave is justly scorn'd,
Since men are from the truth suborn'd,
And a full chest perverts their ways
From giving or deserving praise.
When Hercules, for matchless worth,
Was taken up to heav'n from earth,
As in their turns to all the crowd
Of gratulating gods he bow'd,
When Plutus, Fortune's son, he spies,
He from his face averts his eyes.
Jove ask'd the cause of this disgust:
"I hate him, as he is unjust,
To wicked men the most inclined,
And grand corrupter of mankind."
XII. THE HE-GOATS AND SHE-GOATS.
When the She-Goats from Jove obtain'd
A beard, th' indignant Males complain'd,
That females by this near approach
Would on their gravity encroach.
"Suffer, my sapient friends," says he,
"Their eminence in this degree,
And bear their beard's most graceful length,
As they can never have your strength."
Warn'd by this little tale, agree
With men in gen'ral form'd like thee,
While you by virtue still exceed,
And in the spirit take the lead.
XIII. THE PILOT AND SAILORS.
On hearing a poor man lament
His worldly thoughts in discontent,
Esop this tale began to write,
For consolation and delight.
The ship by furious tempests toss'd,
The Mariners gave all for lost;
But midst their tears and dread, the scene
Is changed at once, and all serene.
The wind is fair, the vessel speeds,
The Sailors' boist'rous joy exceeds:
The Pilot then, by peril wise,
Was prompted to philosophise.
"'Tis right to put a due restraint
On joy, and to retard complaint,
Because alternate hope and fright
Make up our lives of black and white."
XIV. THE MAN AND THE ADDER.
He, that malicious men relieves,
His folly in a season grieves.
A Man, against himself humane,
Took up an Adder, that had lain
And stiffen'd in the frosty air,
And in his bosom placed with care,
Where she with speed recov'ring breath,
Her benefactor stung to death.
Another Adder near the place,
On asking why she was so base,
Was told, "'Tis others to dissuade
From giving wickedness their aid."
XV. THE FOX AND THE DRAGON.
A Fox was throwing up the soil,
And while with his assiduous toil
He burrow'd deep into the ground,
A Dragon in his den he found,
A-watching hidden treasure there,
Whom seeing, Renard speaks him fair:
"First, for your pardon I apply
For breaking on your privacy;
Then, as you very plainly see
That gold is of no use to me,
Your gentle leave let me obtain
To ask you, what can be the gain
Of all this care, and what the fruit,
That you should not with sleep recruit
Your spirits, but your life consume
Thus in an everlasting gloom?"
"'Tis not my profit here to stay,"
He cries; "but I must Jove obey."
"What! will you therefore nothing take
Yourself, nor others welcome make?"
"Ev'n so the fates decree:" --"Then, sir,
Have patience, whilst I do aver
That he who like affections knows
Is born with all the gods his foes.
Since to that place you needs must speed,
Where all your ancestors precede,
Why in the blindness of your heart
Do you torment your noble part?"
All this to thee do I indite,
Thou grudging churl, thy heir's delight,
Who robb'st the gods of incense due,
Thyself of food and raiment too;
Who hear'st the harp with sullen mien,
To whom the piper gives the spleen;
Who'rt full of heavy groans and sighs
When in their price provisions rise;
Who with thy frauds heaven's patience tire
To make thy heap a little higher,
And, lest death thank thee, in thy will
Hast tax'd the undertaker's bill.
XVI. PHÆDRUS, ON HIS FABLES.
What certain envious hearts intend
I very clearly comprehend,
Let them dissemble e'er so much.--
When they perceive the master's touch,
And find 'tis likely to endure,
They'll say 'tis Esop to be sure--
But what appears of mean design,
At any rate they'll vouch for mine.
These in a word I would refute:
Whether of great or no repute,
What sprung from Esop's fertile thought
This hand has to perfection brought;
But waiving things to our distaste,
Let's to the destined period haste.
XVII. THE SHIPWRECK OF SIMONIDES.
A man, whose learned worth is known,
Has always riches of his own.
Simonides, who was the head
Of lyric bards, yet wrote for bread,
His circuit took through every town
In Asia of the first renown,
The praise of heroes to rehearse,
Who gave him money for his verse.
When by this trade much wealth was earn'd,
Homewards by shipping he return'd
(A Cean born, as some suppose):
On board he went, a tempest rose,
Which shook th' old ship to that degree,
She founder'd soon as out at sea.
Some purses, some their jewels tie
About them for a sure supply;
But one more curious, ask'd the seer,
"Poet, have you got nothing here?"
"My all," says he, "is what I am."--
On this some few for safety swam
(For most o'erburden'd by their goods,
Were smother'd in the whelming floods).
The spoilers came, the wealth demand,
And leave them naked on the strand.
It happen'd for the shipwreck'd crew
An ancient city was in view,
By name Clazomena, in which
There lived a scholar learn'd and rich,
Who often read, his cares to ease,
The verses of Simonides,
And was a vast admirer grown
Of this great poet, though unknown.
Him by his converse when he traced,
He with much heartiness embraced,
And soon equipp'd the bard anew,
With servants, clothes, and money too,
The rest benevolence implored,
With case depicted on a board:
Which when Simonides espied,
"I plainly told you all," he cried,
"That all my wealth was in myself;
As for your chattels and your pelf,
On which ye did so much depend,
They're come to nothing in the end."
XVIII. THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOR.
The Mountain labor'd, groaning loud,
On which a num'rous gaping crowd
Of noodles came to see the sight,
When, lo! a mouse was brought to light!
This tale's for men of swagg'ring cast,
Whose threats, voluminous and vast,
With all their verse and all their prose,
Can make but little on't, God knows.
XIX. THE ANT AND THE FLY.
An Ant and Fly had sharp dispute
Which creature was of most repute;
When thus began the flaunting Fly:
"Are you so laudible as I?
I, ere the sacrifice is carved,
Precede the gods; first come, first served--
Before the altar take my place,
And in all temples show my face,
Whene'er I please I set me down
Upon the head that wears a crown.
I with impunity can taste
The kiss of matrons fair and chaste.
And pleasure without labor claim--
Say, trollop, canst thou do the same?"
"The feasts of gods are glorious fare.
No doubt, to those who're welcome there;
But not for such detested things.--
You talk of matron's lips and kings;
I, who with wakeful care and pains
Against the winter hoard my grains,
Thee feeding upon ordure view.--
The altars you frequent, 'tis true;
But still are driv'n away from thence,
And elsewhere, as of much offence.
A life of toil you will not lead,
And so have nothing when you need.
Besides all this, you talk with pride
Of things that modesty should hide.
You plague me here, while days increase,
But when the winter comes you cease.
Me, when the cold thy life bereaves,
A plenteous magazine receives.
I think I need no more advance
To cure you of your arrogance."
The tenor of this tale infers
Two very diff'rent characters;
Of men self-praised and falsely vain,
And men of real worth in grain.
XX. THE ESCAPE OF SIMONIDES.
Th' attention letters can engage,
Ev'n from a base degen'rate age,
I've shown before; and now shall show
Their lustre in another view,
And tell a memorable tale,
How much they can with heav'n prevail.
Simonides, the very same
We lately had a call to name,
Agreed for such a sum to blaze
A certain famous champion's praise.
He therefore a retirement sought,
But found the theme on which he wrote
So scanty, he was forced to use
Th' accustom'd license of the muse,
And introduced and praise bestow'd
On Leda's sons to raise his ode;
With these the rather making free,
As heroes in the same degree.
He warranted his work, and yet
Could but one third of payment get.
Upon demanding all the due,
"Let them," says he, "pay t'other two,
Who take two places in the song;
But lest you think I do you wrong
And part in dudgeon--I invite
Your company to sup this night,
For then my friends and kin I see,
'Mongst which I choose to reckon thee."
Choused and chagrined, yet shunning blame,
He promised, set the hour, and came;
As fearful lest a favour spurn'd
Should to an open breach be turn'd.
The splendid banquet shone with plate,
And preparations full of state
Made the glad house with clamors roar--
When on a sudden at the door
Two youths, with sweat and dust besmear'd,
Above the human form appear'd,
And charged forthwith a little scout
To bid Simonides come out,
That 'twas his int'rest not to stay.--
The slave, in trouble and dismay,
Roused from his seat the feasting bard,
Who scarce had stirr'd a single yard
Before the room at once fell in,
And crush'd the champion and his kin.
No youths before the door are found.--
The thing soon spread the country round;
And when each circumstance was weigh'd,
They knew the gods that visit made,
And saved the poet's life in lieu
Of those two-thirds which yet were due.
EPILOGUE TO EUTYCHUS.
I yet have stock in hand to spare,
And could write on--but will forbear--
First, lest I tire a friend, whose state
And avocations are so great:
And then, if other pens should try
This moral scheme as well as I,
They may have something to pursue:--
Yet if the spacious field we view,
More men are wanting for the plan,
Rather than matter for the man.
Now for that prize I make my plea
You promised to my brevity.
Keep your kind word; for life, my friend,
Is daily nearer to its end;
And I shall share your love the less
The longer you your hand repress:
The sooner you the boon insure,
The more the tenure must endure;
And if I quick possession take,
The greater profit must I make,
While yet declining age subsists,
A room for friendly aid exists.
Anon with tasteless years grown weak,
In vain benevolence will seek
To do me good--when Death at hand
Shall come and urge his last demand.
'Tis folly, you'll be apt to say,
A thousand times to beg and pray
Of one with so much worth and sense,
Whose gen'rous bounty is propense.
If e'er a miscreant succeeds,
By fair confession of his deeds,
An innocent offender's case
Is far more worthy of your grace.
You for example sake begin,
Then others to the lure you'll win,
And in rotation more and more
Will soon communicate their store.
Consider in your mind how far
At stake your word and honour are;
And let your closing the debate
By what I may congratulate.
I have been guilty of excess
Beyond my thought in this address
But 'tis not easy to refrain
A spirit work'd up to disdain
By wretches insolent and vile,
With a clear conscience all the while.
You'll ask me, sir, at whom I hint--
In time they may appear in print.
But give me leave to cite a phrase
I met with in my boyish days.
"'Tis dangerous for the mean and low
Too plain their grievances to show."
This is advice I shall retain
While life and sanity remain.
BOOK V.
PROLOGUE, TO PARTICULO
When I resolved my hand to stay
For this, that others might have play,
On reconsidering of my part
I soon recanted in my heart:
For if a rival should arise,
How can he possibly devise
The things that I have let alone,
Since each man's fancy is his own,
And likewise colouring of the piece?--
It was not therefore mere caprice,
But strong reflection made me write:
Wherefore since you in tales delight,
Which I, in justice, after all,
Not Esop's, but Esopian call;
Since he invented but a few;
I more, and some entirely new,
Keeping indeed the ancient style,
With fresh materials all the while.
As at your leisure you peruse
The fourth collection of my muse,
That you may not be at a stand,
A fifth shall shortly come to hand;
'Gainst which, if as against the rest,
Malignant cavillers protest,
Let them carp on, and make it plain
They carp at what they can't attain.
My fame's secure, since I can show
How men of eminence like you,
My little book transcribe and quote,
As like to live of classic note.
It is th' ambition of my pen
To win th' applause of learned men.
I. DEMETRIUS AND MENANDER.
If Esop's name at any time
I bring into this measured rhyme,
To whom I've paid whate'er I owe,
Let all men by these presents know,
I with th' old fabulist make free,
To strengthen my authority.
As certain sculptors of the age,
The more attention to engage,
And raise their price, the curious please,
By forging of Praxiteles;
And in like manner they purloin
A Myro to their silver coin.
'Tis thus our fables we can smoke,
As pictures for their age bespoke:
For biting envy, in disgust
To new improvements, favors rust;
But now a tale comes in of course,
Which these assertions will enforce.
Demetrius, who was justly call'd
The tyrant, got himself install'd,
And held o'er Athens impious sway.
The crowd, as ever is the way,
Came, eager rushing far and wide,
And, "Fortunate event!" they cried.
The nobles came, the throne address'd:
The hand by which they were oppress'd
They meekly kiss'd, with inward stings
Of anguish for the face of things.
The idlers also, with the tribe
Of those who to themselves prescribe
Their ease and pleasure, in the end
Came sneaking, lest they should offend.
Amongst this troop Menander hies,
So famous for his comedies.
(Him, though he was not known by sight,
The tyrant read with great delight,
Struck with the genius of the bard.)
In flowing robes bedaub'd with nard,
And saunt'ring tread he came along,
Whom, at the bottom of the throng,
When Phalereus beheld, he said:
"How dares that fribble show his head
In this our presence?" he was told--
"It is Menander you behold."
Then, changed at once from fierce to bland,
He call'd, and took him by the hand.
II. THE THIEF AND THE TRAVELLERS.
Two men equipp'd were on their way;
One fearful; one without dismay,
An able fencer. As they went,
A robber came with black intent;
Demanding, upon pain of death,
Their gold and silver in a breath.
At which the man of spirit drew,
And instantly disarm'd and slew
The Thief, his honor to maintain.
Soon as the rogue was fairly slain,
The tim'rous chap began to puff,
And drew his sword, and stripp'd in buff--
"Leave me alone with him! stand back!
I'll teach him whom he should attack."
Then he who fought, "I wish, my friend,
But now you'd had such words to lend;
I might have been confirm'd the more,
Supposing truth to all you swore;
Then put your weapon in the sheath,
And keep your tongue within your teeth,
Though you may play an actor's part
On them who do not know your heart.
I, who have seen this very day
How lustily you ran away,
Experience when one comes to blows
How far your resolution goes."
This narrative to those I tell
Who stand their ground when all is well;
But in the hour of pressing need
Abash'd, most shamefully recede.
III. THE BALD MAN AND THE FLY.
As on his head she chanced to sit,
A Man's bald pate a Gadfly bit;
He, prompt to crush the little foe,
Dealt on himself a grievous blow:
At which the Fly, deriding said,
"You that would strike an insect dead
For one slight sting, in wrath so strict,
What punishment will you inflict
Upon yourself, who was so blunt
To do yourself this gross affront?"--
"O," says the party, "as for me,
I with myself can soon agree.
The spirit of th' intention's all;
But thou, detested cannibal!
Blood-sucker! to have thee secured
More would I gladly have endured."
What by this moral tale is meant
Is--those who wrong not with intent
Are venial; but to those that do
Severity, I think, is due.
IV. THE MAN AND THE ASS.
A certain Man, when he had made
A sacrifice, for special aid
To Hercules, and kill'd a swine,
Did for his Ass's share assign
All the remainder of the corn;
But he, rejecting it with scorn,
Thus said: "I gladly would partake--
But apprehend that life's at stake;
For he you fatted up and fed
With store of this, is stuck and dead."
Struck with the import of this tale,
I have succeeded to prevail
Upon my passions, and abstain,
From peril of immod'rate gain.
But, you will say, those that have come
Unjustly by a handsome sum,
Upon the pillage still subsist--
Why, if we reckon up the list,
You'll find by far the major part
Have been conducted in the cart:
Temerity for some may do,
But many more their rashness rue.
V. THE BUFFOON AND COUNTRY-FELLOW.
In ev'ry age, in each profession,
Men err the most by prepossession;
But when the thing is clearly shown,
Is fairly urged, and fully known,
We soon applaud what we deride,
And penitence succeeds to pride.
A certain noble, on a day,
Having a mind to show away,
Invited by reward the mimes
And play'rs and tumblers of the times,
And built a large commodious stage
For the choice spirits of the age:
But, above all, amongst the rest
There came a genius who profess'd
To have a curious trick in store
That never was perform'd before.
Through all the town this soon got air,
And the whole house was like a fair;
But soon his entry as he made,
Without a prompter or parade,
'Twas all expectance and suspense,
And silence gagg'd the audience.
He, stooping down and looking big,
So wondrous well took off a pig,
All swore 'twas serious, and no joke,
For that, or underneath his cloak
He had concealed some grunting elf,
Or was a real hog himself.
A search was made--no pig was found--
With thund'ring claps the seats resound,
And pit, and box, and gall'ries roar
With-- "O rare! bravo!" and "encore."
Old Roger Grouse, a country clown,
Who yet knew something of the town,
Beheld the mimic of his whim,
And on the morrow challenged him
Declaring to each beau and belle
That he this grunter would excel.
The morrow came--the crowd was greater--
But prejudice and rank ill-nature
Usurp'd the minds of men and wenches,
Who came to hiss and break the benches.
The mimic took his usual station,
And squeak'd with general approbation;
Again "Encore! encore!" they cry--
"'Tis quite the thing, 'tis very high."
Old Grouse conceal'd, amidst this racket,
A real pig beneath his jacket--
Then forth he came, and with his nail
He pinch'd the urchin by the tail.
The tortured pig, from out his throat,
Produced the genuine nat'ral note.
All bellow'd out 'twas very sad!
Sure never stuff was half so bad.
"That like a pig!" each cried in scoff;
"Pshaw! nonsense! blockhead! off! off! off!"
The mimic was extoll'd, and Grouse
Was hiss'd, and catcall'd from the house.
"Soft ye, a word before I go,"
Quoth honest Hodge; and stooping low,
Produced the pig, and thus aloud
Bespoke the stupid partial crowd:
"Behold, and learn from this poor cratur,
How much you critics know of natur!"
TO PARTICULO
As yet my muse is not to seek,
But can from fresh materials speak;
And our poetic fountain springs
With rich variety of things.
But you're for sallies short and sweet;
Long tales their purposes defeat.
Wherefore, thou worthiest, best of men
Particulo, for whom my pen
Immortal honour will insure,
Long as a rev'rence shall endure
For Roman learning--if this strain
Cannot your approbation gain,
Yet, yet my brevity admire,
Which may the more to praise aspire,
The more our poets now-a-days
Are tedious in their lifeless lays.
VI. THE TWO BALD MEN.
As on his way a Bald-pate went,
He found a comb by accident;
Another, with a head as bare,
Pursued, and hollow'd for a share.
The first produced the prize, and cried,
"Good Providence was on our side;
But by the strange caprice of Fate,
We're to no purpose fortunate;
And, as the proverb says, have found
A hobnail, for a hundred pound."
They by this tale may be relieved
Whose sanguine hopes have been deceived.
VII. PRINCE THE PIPER.
A little, friv'lous, abject mind,
Pleased with the rabble, puff'd with wind,
When once, as fast as pride presumes,
Itself with vanity it plumes,
Is by fond lightness brought with ease
To any ridicule you please.
One Prince, a piper to the play,
Was rather noted in his way,
As call'd upon to show his art,
Whene'er Bathyllus did his part.
He being at a certain fair,
(I do not well remember where,)
While they pull'd down the booth in haste,
Not taking heed, his leg displaced,
He from the scaffold fell so hard--
(Would he his pipes had rather marr'd!
Though they, poor fellow! were to him
As dear almost as life and limb).
Borne by the kind officious crowd,
Home he's conducted, groaning loud.
Some months elapsed before he found
Himself recover'd of his wound:
Meantime, according to their way,
The droll frequenters of the play
Had a great miss of him, whose touch
The dancers' spirits raised so much.
A certain man of high renown
Was just preparing for the town
Some games the mob to entertain,
When Prince began to walk again;
Whom, what with bribes and pray'rs, his grace
Prevail'd upon to show his face
In this performance, by all means--
And while he waits behind the scenes,
A rumour through the house is spread,
By certain, that "the piper's dead."
Others cried out, "The man is here,
And will immediately appear."
The curtain draws, the lightnings flash,
The gods speak out their usual trash.
An ode, not to the Piper known,
Was to the chorus leader shown,
Which he was order'd to repeat,
And which was closed with this conceit--
"Receive with joy, O loyal Rome,
Thy Prince just rescued from his tomb."
They all at once stand up and clap,
At which my most facetious chap
Kisses his hand, and scrapes and bows
To his good patrons in the house.
First the equestrian order smoke
The fool's mistake, and high in joke,
Command the song to be encored;
Which ended, flat upon the board
The Piper falls, the knights acclaim;
The people think that Prince's aim
Is for a crown of bays at least.
Now all the seats perceived the jest,
And with his bandage white as snow,
White frock, white pumps, a perfect beauty
Proud of the feats he had achieved,
And these high honours he received,
With one unanimous huzza, Poor
Prince was kick'd out of the play.
VIII. OPPORTUNITY.
Bald, naked, of a human shape,
With fleet wings ready to escape,
Upon a razor's edge his toes,
And lock that on his forehead grows--
Him hold, when seized, for goodness' sake,
For Jove himself cannot retake
The fugitive when once he's gone.
The picture that we here have drawn
Is Opportunity so brief.--
The ancients, in a bas-relief,
Thus made an effigy of Time,
That every one might use their prime;
Nor e'er impede, by dull delay,
Th' effectual business of to-day.
IX. THE BULL AND THE CALF.
A Bull was struggling to secure
His passage at a narrow door,
And scarce could reach the rack of hay,
His horns so much were in his way.
A Calf officious, fain would show
How he might twist himself and go.
"Hold thou thy prate; all this," says he,
"Ere thou wert calved was known to me."
He, that a wiser man by half
Would teach, may think himself this Calf.
X. THE OLD DOG AND THE HUNTSMAN.
A Dog, that time and often tried,
His master always satisfied;
And whensoever he assail'd,
Against the forest-beasts prevail'd
Both by activity and strength,
Through years began to flag at length.
One day, when hounded at a boar,
His ear he seized, as heretofore;
But with his teeth, decay'd and old,
Could not succeed to keep his hold.
At which the huntsman, much concern'd,
The vet'ran huff'd, who thus return'd:
"My resolution and my aim,
Though not my strength, are still the same;
For what I am if I am chid,
Praise what I was, and what I did."
Philetus, you the drift perceive
Of this, with which I take my leave.
THE END.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
* * * * *
* * * *
* * * * *
Errata (noted by transcriber)
Inconsistencies in fable numbering are described at the beginning of the
Table of Contents. All footnotes (Fn.), Æsopian Fables (AF) and New
Fables (NF) are in Riley only.
"Invisible" means that there is an appropriately sized blank space in
the text, but the letter itself is absent.
Fn. I.26 The "lagena," or "lagona," was a long-necked bottle
[_standard spelling is "lagoena"_]
Fn. II.6 she is called "anus," "an Old Woman,"
[_The Latin language had two unrelated words spelled "anus". The
one referenced here is "anûs" with long final U._]
Fn. V.7 the word "tibia," which signifies the main bone of the leg
[_Not an error: until recently, English "leg" often had the
narrower meaning of "lower leg"._]
Errors and inconsistencies:
RILEY
Fn. III.2 The "feriæ imperativæ" were appointed to be held [feræ]
Fn. III.22 to cut short any disagreable question
[_spelling unchanged_]
III.XIX If the inquisitive fellow reflected [inquistive]
Fn. IV.27 riches were more commonly buried in the earth [duried]
V.V excites their applause, and awakens [awaken]
NF IX as {well he might}
[_"as // as" at page break, italicized as shown_]
NF XXIX when can no longer escape the dogs
[_text unchanged: probable missing word "when he can..."_
_missing space "longerescape"_]
NF Fn. 22: This pun upon the resemblance [resesemblance]
AF VI while meditating the destruction others.
[_text unchanged: probable missing word "destruction of others"_]
AF XV The King, as soon as he aware of this
[_text unchanged: missing verb in "he ... aware"_]
AF XXVI the attack of the Hawk when he comes [cames]
AF XXVIII dragging forth from her hole [her her]
SMART
I.XXVI In a tall flagon, finely minced, [Ina tall]
II.Prol. I shall abide by Esop's plan: [my]
II.Epil. Him setting on th' eternal base, [th' the eternal]
-- That they might teach to all mankind [makind]
III.Prol. From worldly cares you must estrange [wordly]
-- With Æsop for my master still;
-- Inventing more than Æsop knew;
[_anomalous spelling unchanged in both]
-- To my own hindrence did I try. [_spelling unchanged_]
III.VII Warn'd by our council, oft beware
[_text unchanged: error for "counsel"?_]
IV.I FABLE I. THE WEAZEL AND MICE. [_spelling unchanged_]
IV.XIX And men of real worth in grain.
[_text unchanged: probable missing word "in the grain"_]
IV.Epi. This moral scheme as well as I [morals cheme]
Missing or incorrect footnote tags:
III.Prol. TO EUTYCHUS.[1]
-- Anacharsis of Scythia[10] could
IV.VI (whose History is painted in {our} taverns[12])
[_printed "1" for "2"_]
V.I Demetrius,[2] who was called Phalereus
[_printed "1" for "2"_]
New Fables: BY SOME ATTRIBUTED TO PHÆDRUS.[1]
NF.XXI If at any time[17] sustenance is wanting
Incorrect punctuation or capitalization:
RILEY
I.I "Indeed," answered the Lamb, [' for "]
Fn. I.12 _This new cause of astonishment_)--Ver. 8. Never
[_anomalous -- after line number_]
I.XXV he drank and ran away." [, for .]
Fn. III.13 _Falernian Lees_ [_body text has lower-case "lees"_]
Fn. III.14 _O, delicious fragrance_
[_body text has no comma after "O"_]
Fn. IV.4 to defray the expenses of the worship. [, for .]
-- B. iv., l. 350, vol. i., p. 149 [vol. .i,]
IV.XVII not able to keep their stomachs in order. [order..]
IV.XIX who rob the Gods of their incense, yourself of food
[_printed "your-/yourself" at line break_]
Fn. V.13 signifying to make the best of an opportunity.
[_superfluous " at end_]
Fn. V.15 _Philetus._) [_anomalous ._]
Fn. NF.4 the word "menda," a blemish.
[_superfluous " at end: blemish."_]
Fn. NF.23 by the name of +psuchê+ [_Greek incorrectly accented_]
SMART
I.VIII And now, forsooth, you'd bring your bill!" [' for "]
III.V Pray get on faster with the cart
[_superfluous " at beginning (top of page)]
IV.XX How much they can with heav'n prevail. [, for .]
V.Prol. And likewise colouring of the piece?--
[_superfluous close quote: piece?"--]
Mechanical Errors:
RILEY
I.XIV {in consideration of} a stated reward. [_d. invisible_]
I.XV feeding an Ass in a meadow [_i of "in" invisible_]
II.Epil. a book of jests partly from the works of Æsop.
[_f of "of" invisible_]
AF.XXVIII dance in the winter [_d invisible_]
SMART
I.XX But proves destructive in the end [_B invisible_]
III.VII "My dears," he says, "ye may not pass
[_line-final s missing or invisible_]
III.VIII "I wish," says he, "with all my soul
[_line-final l missing or invisible_]
III.XIX Cybele's priests, in quest of bread,
[_s of "quest" invisible_]
Missing or invisible punctuation:
_Unless otherwise noted, the quotation mark " or " is missing._
RILEY
I.II continue to endure your bad fortune.'" [_inner ' missing_]
I.III to feel {the additional pang} of this repulse."
I.X have stolen what you so speciously deny."
I.XI I should have fled in alarm like {the rest}."
Fn I.12 heard the voice of an ass in the forests before.
[_final . missing_]
I.XXIII that you may not profit by my neglect."
I.XXVII have suddenly coveted regal wealth."
I.XXIX to be defiled with {such} dastardly blood."
I.XXX "and they are of a different kind
II.V manumission stands at a much higher price with me."
Fn II.5 Vera, inquit----"
Fn II.12 Whatever violence and unscrupulousness attack, comes.
[_final . missing_]
Fn III.15 manumitted, as generally supposed, by Augustus
[_second , missing_]
III.VII "how is it that you are so sleek?
IV.XVIII "That people may learn not to assist the wicked."[26]
IV.XXIV my kinsmen, in the number of whom I reckon you."
Fn V.12 which was worshipped with Divine honors.
[_final . missing_]
V.X you blame me that I am not {what I was}."
NF XXIV dropped the prey from her mouth unenjoyed.
[_final . missing_]
NF XXV you would have suffered for it."
NF XXVII never done any injury to this field."
NF XXIII and your harmless life."
NF XXX by fixing your sting in him."
AF XIII how much more beauteous you would be."
SMART
_In titles, the final . is missing or invisible._
I.XI "How did my music-piece go off?" [_close quote missing_]
I.XVI THE SHEEP, THE STAG, AND THE WOLF.
I.XXI "But to be trampled on by thee
I.XXX THE KITE AND THE DOVES.
III.XII THE BEES AND THE DRONES.
III.XVII But when I speak the audience sneers."
IV.IV Enough to understand his will!"
IV.VI The daughters their own sire to slay."
IV.VIII Be quick, my friend, your sorrows drown."
IV.X THE SACRILEGIOUS THIEF.
IV.XX THE ESCAPE OF SIMONIDES.