Chapter 1

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FABLES OF JOHN GAY (SOMEWHAT ALTERED).

FABLES OF JOHN GAY (SOMEWHAT ALTERED).

AFFECTIONATELY PRESENTED TO MARGARET ROSE,

BY HER UNCLE JOHN BENSON ROSE.

[_FOR PRIVATE CIRCULATION._]

LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES & SONS, STAMFORD STREET, AND CHARING CROSS.

1871.

DEDICATION.

Si doulce la Margarite.

When I first saw you--never mind the year--you could speak no English, and when next I saw you, after a lapse of two years, you _would_ prattle no French; when again we met, you were the nymph with bright and flowing hair, which frightened his Highness Prince James out of his feline senses, when, as you came in by the door, he made his bolt by the window. It was then that you entreated me, with "most petitionary vehemence," to write you a book--a big book--thick, and all for yourself--

"Apollo heard, and granting half the prayer, Shuffled to winds the rest and tossed in air."

I have not written the book, nor is it thick: but I have printed you a book, and it is thin. And I take the occasion to note that old Geoffry Chaucer, our father poet, must have had you in his mind's eye, by prescience or precognition, or he could hardly else have written two poems, one on the daisy and one on the rose. They are poems too long for modern days, nor are we equal in patience to our fore-fathers, who read 'The Faerie Queen,' 'Gondibert,' and the 'Polyolbion,' annually, as they cheeringly averred, _through and out_. Photography, steam, and electricity make us otherwise, and Patience has fled to the spheres; therefore, if feasible, shall "brevity be the soul of wit," and we will eschew "tediousness and outward flourishes" in compressing 'The Flower and the Leaf' into little:--

THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF.

A maiden in greenwood in month of sweet May, Arose and awoke at the dawn of the day: As she wended along, She heard fairie song-- "Si doulce est la Margarite." There the Ladye the Flower and Ladye the Leaf, With knights and squires of fairie chief, Were met upon mead, For devoir and deed-- Homage unto "La doulce Margarite."

There the ladye in white and the ladye in green Sat on their thrones by the Fairie Queen, Whilst knights did their duty, And bowed down to beauty-- "Si doulce est la Margarite,"-- When the skies grew hot and the ladies pale, And the storm descended in lightning and hail, As they danced and sung, And the burden rung-- "Sous la feuille, sous la feuille, meet."

Our Ladye of Leaf asked her of the Flower And fairie Nymphs to shelter in bower: And they danced and sung, And the refrain rung-- "Si doulce est la Margarite." All woe begone shivered the Ladye Flower, The Ladye Leaf glittered in gems from the shower: As they danced and sung, And the refrain rung-- "Si doulce est la Margarite."

And knights and squires then wended forth, East and west, and south, and north: To free forests and shores From giants and boars, And shelter in night and in storm; And every knight bore _in chief_ on his shield The _foyle en verte_ on an _argent_ field: And they rode and they sung The huge oaks among:-- "Sous la feuille, sous la feuille, dorme."

The maiden then asked of the Fairie Queen To tell her the moral of what she had seen: Who answered and sung In her fairie tongue-- "Si doulce est la Margarite." The knight that is wise will lead from bower The lasting Leaf--not the fading Flower: And when storms arise To turmoil life's skies-- "Sous la feuille, sous la feuille, meet."

Romaunt of the Rose.

Within my twentie yeares of age, When Love asserteth most his courage, I dreamed a dream, now fain to tell-- A dream that pleased me wondrous well. Now this dream will I rime aright, To make your heartes gaye and light; For Love desireth it--also Commandeth me that it be so. It is the Romaunt of the Rose, And tale of love I must disclose. Fair is the matter for to make, But fairer--if she will to take For whom the romaunt is begonne For that I wis she is the fair one Of mokle prise; and therefore she So worthier is beloved to be; And well she ought of prise and right Be clepened Rose of every wight. But it was May, thus dreamed me,-- A time of love and jollitie: A time there is no husks or straw, But new grene leaves on everie shaw; The woods were grene, the earth was proud, Beastes and birdes snug aloud; And earth her poore estate forgote, In which the winter her had fraught. Ah! ben in May the sunne is bright, And everie thing does take delight: The nightingale then singeth blithe; Then is blissful many a scithe; The goldfinch and the popinjay, They then have many things to say. Hard is his heart that loveth nought In May, when all such love is wrought.

Right from my bed full readilie, That it was by the morrow earlie; And up I rose, and gan me clothe Anon I with my handes bothe: A silver needle forth I drew Out of an aguiler quainte inew, And gan this needle threade anone, For out of town me list to gone, Jollife and gaye, full of gladnesse, Towards a river gan I me dresse, For from a hill that stood there neere Came down the stream of that rivere-- My face, I wis, there saw I wele, The bottom ypaved everie dele With gravel, which was shining shene, In meadows soft and soote and greene. And full attempre out of drede Then gan I walken throw the mede Downward ever in my playing As the river's waters straying; And when I had awhile igone I saw a garden right anone, Of walls with many portraitures, And bothe of images and peintures--

But you may read it as it flows In Chaucer's _Romaunt of the Rose_.

Chaucer to his Booke.

Now go, my booke, and be courageous, For now I send you forthe into the worlde. And though ye may find some outrageous, And in a pette be in some cornere hurl'd; Yet you by little fingeres will be greased And known hereafter by the marke of thumbe; At which, my little booke, be ye well pleased, For booke, like mouthe, unopened is dumbe. And there be some, perchance, will bidde you off To Conventre, or Yorke, or Jericho; But be not you, my booke, abashed by scoff, For I will teach you where you boun to go,-- Which is in Gloucestershire, there unto Bisley, Where the church spire is spied long afarre; It is not either uncouth, square, or grisly, But soareth high, as if to catch a starre; Where shall the brother of the _Christian Yeare_, Keble, hereafter tend the seven springs, Above whose fountains doth The Grove uproar, Like to Mount Helicon, where Clio sings, Where rookes build, and peacocke spreadeth tail. And there the wood-pigeon doth sobbe Coo coo; Neither do sparrow, merle or mavis fail, And there the owl at midnight singeth Whoo. And where there are a Laurel and a Rose, Beneath whose branches wide a broode doth haunt; The whom high walls and fretted gates enclose, Where goode may enter, badde are bidde avaunt. And there is one yclepen Margarete, Who alsoe for the nonce is clepen Rose, For she must on some other hille be sette When Hymenaeos shall her lotte dispose. And, little booke, it is to her you runne. And sisters eight, for they, in soothe, are nine; And in their bowere baske as in the suunne, And beare Maid Marion's love to Catherine, Who is her gossipe, and she is her pette; And nought mote save us from a wrath condign, If you, my booke, should haplessly forgette, Nor bended knees, I trow, nor teares of Margarete.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

DEDICATION v Introduction 1 Lion, Tiger, and Traveller 4 Spaniel and Chameleon 6 Mother, Nurse, and Fairy 7 Jove's Eagle, and Murmuring Beasts 9 Wild Boar and Ram 10 Miser and Plutus 11 Lion, Fox, and Gander 12 Lady and Wasp 14 Bull and Mastiff 15 Elephant and Bookseller 16 Turkey, Peacock, and Goose 18 Cupid, Hymen, and Plutus 20 The Tamed Fawn 21 Monkey who had seen the World 22 Philosopher and Pheasant 24 Pin and Needle 25 Shepherd's Dog and Wolf 26 The Unsatisfactory Painter 27 Lion and Cub 29 Old Hen and Young Cock 30 Ratcatcher and Cats 31 Goat without a Beard 33 Old Woman and her Cats 34 Butterfly and Snail 36 Scold and Parrot 37 Cur and Mastiff 38 Sick Man and the Angel 39 Persian, Sun, and Cloud 41 Fox at the point of Death 42 Setting Dog and Partridge 43 Universal Apparition 44 Owls and Sparrow 46 Courtier and Proteus 47 Mastiff 49 Barley Mow and Dunghill 50 Pythagoras and Countryman 51 Farmer's Dame and Raven 52 Turkey and Ant 54 Father and Jupiter 55 Two Monkeys 56 Owl and Farmer 58 Juggler and Vice 59 Council of Horses 61 Hound and Huntsman 63 Poet and the Rose 64 Cur, Horse, and Shepherd's Dog 66 Court of Death 67 Florist and Pig 68 Man and Flea 69 Hare and many Friends 71 Dog and Fox 72 Vulture, Sparrow, and Birds 75 Ape and Poultry 78 Ant in Office 81 Bear in a Boat 85 Squire and Cur 88 Countryman and Jupiter 91 Man, Cat, Dog, and Fly 95 Jackall, Leopard, and Beasts 98 Degenerate Bees 101 Packhorse and Carrier 104 Pan and Fortune 107 Plutus, Cupid, and Time 109 Owl, Swan, Cock, Spider, Ass, and Farmer 113 Cookmaid, Turnspit, and Ox 117 Raven, Sexton, and Earthworm 120 Town Mouse and Country Mouse 124 Magpie and Brood 126 The Three Warnings 129 POSTSCRIPT 131

GAY'S FABLES.

INTRODUCTION.

Remote from cities dwelt a swain, Unvexed by petty cares of gain; His head was silvered, and by age He had contented grown and sage; In summer's heat and winter's cold He fed his flock and penned his fold, Devoid of envy or ambition, So had he won a proud position.

A deep philosopher, whose rules Of moral life were drawn from schools, With wonder sought this shepherd's nest, And his perplexity expressed:

"Whence is thy wisdom? Hath thy toil O'er books consumed the midnight oil, Communed o'er Greek and Roman pages, With Plato, Socrates--those sages-- Or fathomed Tully,--or hast travelled With wise Ulysses, and unravelled Of customs half a mundane sphere?"

The shepherd answered him: "I ne'er From books or from mankind sought learning, For both will cheat the most discerning; The more perplexed the more they view In the wide fields of false and true.

"I draw from Nature all I know-- To virtue friend, to vice a foe. The ceaseless labour of the bee Prompted my soul to industry; The wise provision of the ant Made me for winter provident; My trusty dog there showed the way, And to be true I copy Tray. Then for domestic hallowed love, I learnt it of the cooing dove; And love paternal followed, when I marked devotion in the hen.

"Nature then prompted me to school My tongue from scorn and ridicule, And never with important mien In conversation to o'erween. I learnt some lessons from the fowls: To shun solemnity, from owls; Another lesson from the pie,-- Pert and pretentious, and as sly; And to detest man's raids and mulctures, From eagles, kites, goshawks, and vultures; But most of all abhorrence take From the base toad or viler snake, With filthy venom in the bite, Of envies, jealousies, and spite. Thus from Dame Nature and Creation Have I deduced my observation; Nor found I ever thing so mean, That gave no moral thence to glean."

Then the philosopher replied: "Thy fame, re-echoed far and wide, Is just and true: for books misguide,-- As full, as man himself, of pride; But Nature, rightly studied, leads To noble thoughts and worthy deeds."

TO HIS HIGHNESS WILLIAM DUKE OF CUMBERLAND.

FABLE I.

LION, TIGER, AND TRAVELLER.

Accept, my Prince, the moral fable, To youth ingenuous, profitable. Nobility, like beauty's youth, May seldom hear the voice of truth; Or mark and learn the fact betimes That flattery is the nurse of crimes. Friendship, which seldom nears a throne, Is by her voice of censure known. To one in your exalted station A courtier is a dedication; But I dare not to dedicate My verse e'en unto royal state. My muse is sacred, and must teach Truths which they slur in courtly speech. But I need not to hide the praise, Or veil the thoughts, a nation pays; We in your youth and virtues trace The dawnings of your royal race; Discern the promptings of your breast, Discern you succour the distrest, Discern your strivings to attain The heights above the lowly plain. Thence shall Nobility inspire Your bosom with her holy fire; Impressing on your spirit all Her glorious and heroical.

* * * * *

A tigress prowling for her prey Assailed a traveller on his way; A passing lion thought no shame To rob the tigress of her game. They fought: he conquered in the strife; Of him the traveller begged for life. His life the generous lion gave, And him invited to his cave. Arrived, they sat and shared the feast.

The lion spoke: he said, "What beast Is strong enough to fight with me? You saw the battle, fair and free. My vassals fear me on my throne: These hills and forests are my own. The lesser tribes of wolf and bear Regard my royal den with fear; Their carcases, on either hand, And bleaching bones now strew the land."

"It is so," said the man, "I saw What well might baser natures awe; But shall a monarch, like to you, Place glory in so base a view? Robbers invade a neighbour's right, But Love and Justice have more might. O mean and sordid are the boasts Of plundered lands and wasted hosts! Kings should by love and justice reign, Nor be like pirates of the main. Your clemency to me has shown A virtue worthy of a throne: If Heaven has made you great and strong, Use not her gifts to do us wrong."

The lion answered: "It is plain That I have been abused; my reign By slaves and sophisters beset. But tell me, friend, didst ever yet Attend in human courts? You see, My courtiers say they rule like me."

FABLE II.

THE SPANIEL AND CHAMELEON.

A spaniel mightily well bred, Ne'er taught to labour for his bread, But to play tricks and bear him smart, To please his lady's eyes and heart, Who never had the whip for mischief, But praises from the damsel--his chief.

The wind was soft, the morning fair, They issued forth to take the air. He ranged the meadows, where a green Cameleon--green as grass--was seen.

"Halloa! you chap, who change your coat, What do you rowing in this boat? Why have you left the town? I say You're wrong to stroll about this way: Preferment, which your talent crowns, Believe me, friend, is found in towns."

"Friend," said the sycophant, "'tis true One time I lived in town like you. I was a courtier born and bred, And kings have bent to me the head. I knew each lord and lady's passion, And fostered every vice in fashion. But Jove was wrath--loves not the liar-- He sent me here to cool my fire, Retained my nature--but he shaped My form to suit the thing I aped, And sent me in this shape obscene, To batten in a sylvan scene. How different is your lot and mine! Lo! how you eat, and drink, and dine; Whilst I, condemned to thinnest fare, Like those I flattered, feed on air. Jove punishes what man rewards;-- Pray you accept my best regards."

FABLE III.

MOTHER, NURSE, AND FAIRY.

"Give me a son, grant me an heir!" The fairies granted her the prayer. And to the partial parent's eyes Was never child so fair and wise; Waked to the morning's pleasing joy, The mother rose and sought her boy. She found the nurse like one possessed, Who wrung her hands and beat her breast. "What is the matter, Nurse--this clatter: The boy is well--what is the matter?"

"What is the matter? Ah! I fear The dreadful fairy has been here, And changed the baby-boy. She came Invisible; I'm not to blame She's changed the baby: here's a creature!-- A pug, a monkey, every feature! Where is his mother's mouth and grace? His father's eyes, and nose, and face?"

"Woman," the mother said, "you're blind: He's wit and beauty all combined."

"Lord, Madam! with that horrid leer!-- That squint is more than one can bear."

But, as she spoke, a pigmy wee soul Jumped in head-foremost through the key-hole, Perched on the cradle, and from thence Harangued with fairy vehemence:

"Repair thy wit--repair thy wit! Truly, you are devoid of it. Think you that fairies would change places With sons of clay and human races-- In one point like to you alone, That we are partial to our own; For neither would a fairy mother Exchange her baby for another; But should we change with imps of clay, We should be idiots--like as they."

FABLE IV.

JOVE'S EAGLE, AND MURMURING BEASTS.

As Jove once on his judgment-seat, Opened the trap-door at his feet; Up flew the murmurs of creation, Of every brute that had sensation. The Thunderer, therefore, called his Eagle, Which came obedient as a beagle,-- And him commanded to descend, And to such murmurs put an end. The eagle did so--citing all To answer the imperial call.

He spoke: "Ye murmurers declare What are these ills which trouble air?-- Just are the universal laws. Now let the dog first plead his cause."

A beagle answered him: "How fleet The greyhound's course, how nerved his feet! I hunt by scent, by scent alone; That lost, and all my chance has flown."

Answered the greyhound: "If I had That which he scorns, I should be glad; Had I the hound's sagacious scent, I ne'er had murmured discontent."

The lion murmured he had not Sly Reynard's wits to lay a plot; Sly Reynard pleaded that, to awe, He should possess the lion's paw. The cock desired the heron's flight; The heron wished for greater might. And fish would feed upon the plain, And beasts would refuge in the main. None their ambitious wish could smother, And each was envious of another.

The eagle answered: "Mutineers, The god rejects your idle prayers. But any may exchange who wishes, And chop and change,--birds, beasts, and fishes." The eagle paused; but none consented To quit the race they represented, And recognised the restless mind And proud ambition of mankind.

FABLE V.

WILD BOAR AND RAM.

A sheep lay tethered, and her life Fast ebbing on the butcher's knife; The silly flock looked on with dread. A wild boar, passing them, then said: "O cowards! cowards! will nought make The courage of your hearts awake? What, with the butcher in your sight, Flaying--ere life be parted quite-- Your lambs and dams! O stolid race! Who ever witnessed souls so base?"

The patriarch ram then answered him: "My face and bearing are not grim, But we are not of soul so tame As to deny Revenge her claim: We have no whetted tusks to kill, Yet are not powerless of ill. Vengeance, the murdering hand pursues, And retribution claims her dues; She sends the plagues of war and law, Where men will battle for a straw-- And our revenge may rest contented, Since drums and parchment were invented."

FABLE VI.

MISER AND PLUTUS

The wind was high, the window shook, The miser woke with haggard look; He stalked along the silent room, He shivered at the gleam and gloom, Each lock and every corner eyed, And then he stood his chest beside; He opened it, and stood in rapture In sight of gold he held in capture; And then, with sudden qualm possessed, He wrung his hands and beat his breast: "O, had the earth concealed this gold, I had perhaps in peace grown old! But there is neither gold nor price To recompense the pang of vice. Bane of all good--delusive cheat, To lure a soul on to defeat And banish honour from the mind: Gold raised the sword midst kith and kind, Gold fosters each, pernicious art In which the devils bear a part,-- Gold, bane accursed!" In angry mood Plutus, his god, before him stood. The trembling miser slammed the chest.