_60

FABLE XLI.

THE OWL AND THE FARMER.

An owl of grave deport and mien, Who (like the Turk) was seldom seen, Within a barn had chose his station, As fit for prey and contemplation.

Upon a beam aloft he sits, And nods, and seems to think by fits.

So have I seen a man of news, Or _Post-boy_, or _Gazette_ peruse; Smoke, nod, and talk with voice profound, And fix the fate of Europe round.

_10 Sheaves piled on sheaves, hid all the floor; At dawn of morn, to view his store The farmer came. The hooting guest His self-importance thus express'd: 'Reason in man is mere pretence: How weak, how shallow is his sense!

To treat with scorn the bird of night, Declares his folly, or his spite.

Then too, how partial is his praise!

The lark's, the linnet's chirping lays _20 To his ill-judging ears are fine; And nightingales are all divine.

But the more knowing feathered race See wisdom stamped upon my face.

Whene'er to visit light I deign, What flocks of fowl compose my train!

Like slaves they crowd my flight behind, And own me of superior kind.'

The farmer laughed, and thus replied: 'Thou dull important lump of pride, _30 Dar'st thou with that harsh grating tongue, Depreciate birds of warbling song?

Indulge thy spleen. Know, men and fowl Regard thee, as thou art an owl.

Besides, proud blockhead, be not vain, Of what thou call'st thy slaves and train.

Few follow wisdom or her rules; Fools in derision follow fools.'

FABLE XLII.

THE JUGGLERS.

A juggler long through all the town Had raised his fortune and renown; You'd think (so far his art transcends) The devil at his fingers' ends.

Vice heard his fame, she read his bill; Convinced of his inferior skill, She sought his booth, and from the crowd Defied the man of art aloud: 'Is this, then, he so famed for sleight?

Can this slow bungler cheat your sight!

_10 Dares he with me dispute the prize?

I leave it to impartial eyes.'

Provoked, the juggler cried, ''tis done.

In science I submit to none.'

Thus said, the cups and b.a.l.l.s he played; By turns, this here, that there, conveyed.

The cards, obedient to his words, Are by a fillip turned to birds.

His little boxes change the grain: Trick after trick deludes the train.

_20 He shakes his bag, he shows all fair; His fingers spreads, and nothing there; Then bids it rain with showers of gold, And now his ivory eggs are told.

But when from thence the hen he draws, Amazed spectators hum applause.

Vice now stept forth, and took the place With all the forms of his grimace.

'This magic looking-gla.s.s,' she cries, (There, hand it round) 'will charm your eyes.'

_30 Each eager eye the sight desired, And every man himself admired.

Next to a senator addressing: 'See this bank-note; observe the blessing, Breathe on the bill.' Heigh, pa.s.s! 'Tis gone.

Upon his lips a padlock shone.

A second puff the magic broke, The padlock vanished, and he spoke.

Twelve bottles ranged upon the board, All full, with heady liquor stored, _40 By clean conveyance disappear, And now two b.l.o.o.d.y swords are there.

A purse she to a thief exposed, At once his ready fingers closed; He opes his fist, the treasure's fled; He sees a halter in its stead.

She bids ambition hold a wand; He grasps a hatchet in his hand.

A box of charity she shows, 'Blow here;' and a churchwarden blows, _50 'Tis vanished with conveyance neat, And on the table smokes a treat.

She shakes the dice, the boards she knocks, And from all pockets fills her box.

She next a meagre rake address'd: 'This picture see; her shape, her breast!

What youth, and what inviting eyes!

Hold her, and have her.' With surprise, His hand exposed a box of pills, And a loud laugh proclaimed his ills.

_60 A counter, in a miser's hand, Grew twenty guineas at command.

She bids his heir the sum retain, And 'tis a counter now again.

A guinea with her touch you see Take every shape, but charity; And not one thing you saw, or drew, But changed from what was first in view.

The juggler now in grief of heart, With this submission owned her art: _70 'Can I such matchless sleight withstand?

How practice hath improved your hand!

But now and then I cheat the throng; You every day, and all day long.'

FABLE XLIII.

THE COUNCIL OF HORSES.

Upon a time a neighing steed, Who grazed among a numerous breed, With mutiny had fired the train, And spread dissension through the plain.

On matters that concerned the state The council met in grand debate.

A colt, whose eye-b.a.l.l.s flamed with ire, Elate with strength and youthful fire, In haste stept forth before the rest, And thus the listening throng addressed: _10 'Good G.o.ds! how abject is our race, Condemned to slavery and disgrace!

Shall we our servitude retain, Because our sires have borne the chain?

Consider, friends, your strength and might; 'Tis conquest to a.s.sert your right.

How c.u.mbrous is the gilded coach!

The pride of man is our reproach.

Were we designed for daily toil, To drag the ploughshare through, the soil, _20 To sweat in harness through the road, To groan beneath the carrier's load?

How feeble are the two-legged kind!

What force is in our nerves combined!

Shall then our n.o.bler jaws submit To foam and champ the galling bit?

Shall haughty man my back bestride?

Shall the sharp spur provoke my side?

Forbid it, heavens! Reject the rein; Your shame, your infamy disdain.

_30 Let him the lion first control, And still the tiger's famished growl.

Let us, like them, our freedom claim, And make him tremble at our name.'

A general nod approved the cause, And all the circle neighed applause.

When, lo! with grave and solemn pace, A steed advanced before the race, With age and long experience wise; Around he cast his thoughtful eyes, _40 And, to the murmurs of the train, Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain: 'When I had health and strength, like you, The toils of servitude I knew; Now grateful man rewards my pains, And gives me all these wide domains.

At will I crop the year's increase My latter life is rest and peace.

I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains.

_50 But doth not he divide the care, Through all the labours of the year?

How many thousand structures rise, To fence us from inclement skies!

For us he bears the sultry day, And stores up all our winter's hay.

He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain; We share the toil, and share the grain.

Since every creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need, _60 Appease your discontented mind, And act the part by heaven a.s.signed.'

The tumult ceased. The colt submitted, And, like his ancestors, was bitted.