Chapter 4

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 Chloe'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 Chloe'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 Caesars, 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.