FABLE XV.

THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE PHEASANTS.

The sage, awaked at early day, Through the deep forest took his way; Drawn by the music of the groves, Along the winding gloom he roves: From tree to tree, the warbling throats Prolong the sweet alternate notes.

But where he pa.s.s'd, he terror threw, The song broke short, the warblers flew; The thrushes chattered with affright, And nightingales abhorred his sight; _10 All animals before him ran, To shun the hateful sight of man.

'Whence is this dread of every creature?

Fly they our figure or our nature?'

As thus he walked in musing thought, His ear imperfect accents caught; With cautious step he nearer drew, By the thick shade concealed from view.

High on the branch a pheasant stood, Around her all her listening brood; _20 Proud of the blessings of her nest, She thus a mother's care expressed: 'No dangers here shall circ.u.mvent, Within the woods enjoy content.

Sooner the hawk or vulture trust, Than man; of animals the worst: In him ingrat.i.tude you find, A vice peculiar to the kind.

The sheep whose annual fleece is dyed, To guard his health, and serve his pride, _30 Forced from his fold and native plain, Is in the cruel shambles slain.

The swarms, who, with industrious skill, His hives with wax and honey fill, In vain whole summer days employed, Their stores are sold, their race destroyed.

What tribute from the goose is paid!

Does not her wing all science aid!

Does it not lovers' hearts explain, And drudge to raise the merchant's gain?

_40 What now rewards this general use?

He takes the quills, and eats the goose.

Man then avoid, detest his ways; So safety shall prolong your days.

When services are thus acquitted, Be sure we pheasants must be spitted.'

FABLE XVI.

THE PIN AND THE NEEDLE.

A pin, who long had served a beauty, Proficient in the toilet's duty, Had formed her sleeve, confined her hair, Or given her knot a smarter air, Now nearest to her heart was placed, Now in her mantua's tail disgraced: But could she partial fortune blame, Who saw her lovers served the same?

At length from all her honours cast; Through various turns of life she pa.s.s'd; _10 Now glittered on a tailor's arm; Now kept a beggar's infant warm; Now, ranged within a miser's coat, Contributes to his yearly groat; Now, raised again from low approach, She visits in the doctor's coach; Here, there, by various fortune toss'd, At last in Gresham Hall[3] was lost.

Charmed with the wonders of the show, On every side, above, below, _20 She now of this or that enquires, What least was understood admires.

'Tis plain, each thing so struck her mind.

Her head's of virtuoso kind.

'And pray what's this, and this, dear sir?'

'A needle,' says the interpreter.

She knew the name. And thus the fool Addressed her as a tailor's tool: 'A needle with that filthy stone, Quite idle, all with rust o'ergrown!

_30 You better might employ your parts, And aid the sempstress in her arts.

But tell me how the friendship grew Between that paltry flint and you?'

'Friend,' says the needle, 'cease to blame; I follow real worth and fame.

Know'st thou the loadstone's power and art, That virtue virtues can impart?

Of all his talents I partake, Who then can such a friend forsake?

_40 'Tis I directs the pilot's hand To shun the rocks and treacherous sand: By me the distant world is known, And either India is our own.

Had I with milliners been bred, What had I been? the guide of thread, And drudged as vulgar needles do, Of no more consequence than you.'

FABLE XVII.

THE SHEPHERD'S DOG AND THE WOLF.

A wolf, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravaged the plains, and thinned the fold: Deep in the wood secure he lay, The thefts of night regaled the day.

In vain the shepherd's wakeful care Had spread the toils, and watched the snare: In vain the dog pursued his pace, The fleeter robber mocked the chase.

As Lightfoot ranged the forest round, By chance his foe's retreat he found.

_10 'Let us awhile the war suspend, And reason as from friend to friend.'

'A truce?' replies the wolf. 'Tis done.

The dog the parley thus begun: 'How can that strong intrepid mind Attack a weak defenceless kind?

Those jaws should prey on n.o.bler food, And drink the boar's and lion's blood; Great souls with generous pity melt, Which coward tyrants never felt.

_20 How harmless is our fleecy care!

Be brave, and let thy mercy spare.'

'Friend,' says the wolf, 'the matter weigh; Nature designed us beasts of prey; As such when hunger finds a treat, 'Tis necessary wolves should eat.

If mindful of the bleating weal, Thy bosom burn with real zeal; Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech; To him repeat the moving speech; _30 A wolf eats sheep but now and then, Ten thousands are devoured by men.

An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse.'

FABLE XVIII.

THE PAINTER WHO PLEASED n.o.bODY AND EVERYBODY.

Lest men suspect your tale untrue, Keep probability in view.

The traveller leaping o'er those bounds, The credit of his book confounds.

Who with his tongue hath armies routed, Makes even his real courage doubted: But flattery never seems absurd; The flattered always take your word: Impossibilities seem just; They take the strongest praise on trust.

_10 Hyperboles, though ne'er so great, Will still come short of self-conceit.

So very like a painter drew, That every eye the picture knew; He hit complexion, feature, air, So just, the life itself was there.

No flattery with his colours laid, To bloom restored the faded maid; He gave each muscle all its strength, The mouth, the chin, the nose's length.

_20 His honest pencil touched with truth, And marked the date of age and youth.

He lost his friends, his practice failed; Truth should not always be revealed; In dusty piles his pictures lay, For no one sent the second pay.

Two busts, fraught with every grace A Venus' and Apollo's face, He placed in view; resolved to please, Whoever sat, he drew from these, _30 From these corrected every feature, And spirited each awkward creature.

All things were set; the hour was come, His pallet ready o'er his thumb, My lord appeared; and seated right In proper att.i.tude and light, The painter looked, he sketched the piece, Then dipp'd his pencil, talked of Greece, Of t.i.tian's tints, of Guido's air; 'Those eyes, my lord, the spirit there _40 Might well a Raphael's hand require, To give them all the native fire; The features fraught with sense and wit, You'll grant are very hard to hit; But yet with patience you shall view As much as paint and art can do.

Observe the work.' My lord replied: 'Till now I thought my mouth was wide; Besides, my mouth is somewhat long; Dear sir, for me, 'tis far too young.'

_50 'Oh! pardon me,' the artist cried, 'In this, the painters must decide.

The piece even common eyes must strike, I warrant it extremely like.'

My lord examined it anew; No looking-gla.s.s seemed half so true.

A lady came, with borrowed grace He from his Venus formed her face.

Her lover praised the painter's art; So like the picture in his heart!

_60 To every age some charm he lent; Even beauties were almost content.

Through all the town his art they praised; His custom grew, his price was raised.

Had he the real likeness shown, Would any man the picture own?

But when thus happily he wrought, Each found the likeness in his thought.

FABLE XIX.