And oft the wily dwarf in ambush lay, And often made the callow young his prey; With slaughter'd victims heap'd his board, and smiled, To avenge the parent's trespa.s.s on the child. 50 Oft, where his feather'd foe had rear'd her nest, And laid her eggs and household G.o.ds to rest, Burning for blood in terrible array, The eighteen-inch militia burst their way: All went to wreck; the infant foeman fell, Whence scarce his chirping bill had broke the sh.e.l.l.

Loud uproar hence and rage of arms arose, And the fell rancour of encountering foes; Hence dwarfs and cranes one general havoc whelms, And Death's grim visage scares the pigmy realms. 60 Not half so furious blazed the warlike fire Of mice, high theme of the Maeonian lyre; When bold to battle march'd the accoutred frogs, And the deep tumult thunder'd through the bogs.

Pierced by the javelin bulrush on the sh.o.r.e Here agonizing roll'd the mouse in gore; And there the frog (a scene full sad to see!) Shorn of one leg, slow sprawl'd along on three; He vaults no more with vigorous hops on high, But mourns in hoa.r.s.est croaks his destiny. 70 And now the day of woe drew on apace, A day of woe to all the pigmy race, When dwarfs were doom'd (but penitence was vain) To rue each broken egg, and chicken slain.

For, roused to vengeance by repeated wrong, From distant climes the long-bill'd legions throng: From Strymon's lake, Cayster's plashy meads, And fens of Scythia, green with rustling reeds; From where the Danube winds through many a land, And Mareotis leaves the Egyptian strand; 80 To rendezvous they waft on eager wing, And wait, a.s.sembled, the returning spring.

Meanwhile they trim their plumes for length of flight, Whet their keen beaks and twisting claws for fight: Each crane the pigmy power in thought o'erturns, And every bosom for the battle burns.

When genial gales the frozen air unbind, The screaming legions wheel, and mount the wind; Far in the sky they form their long array, And land and ocean stretch'd immense survey 90 Deep, deep beneath; and, triumphing in pride With clouds and winds commix'd, innumerous ride.

'Tis wild obstreperous clangour all, and heaven Whirls, in tempestuous undulation driven.

Nor less the alarm that shook the world below, Where march'd in pomp of war the embattled foe: Where manikins with haughty step advance, And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance: To right and left the lengthening lines they form, And rank'd in deep array await the storm. 100 High in the midst the chieftain-dwarf was seen, Of giant stature and imperial mien: Full twenty inches tall, he strode along, And view'd with lofty eye the wondering throng; And while with many a scar his visage frown'd, Bared his broad bosom, rough with many a wound Of beaks and claws, disclosing to their sight The glorious meed of high heroic might.

For with insatiate vengeance he pursued, And never-ending hate, the feathery brood. 110 Unhappy they, confiding in the length Of h.o.r.n.y beak, or talon's crooked strength, Who durst abide his rage; the blade descends, And from the panting trunk the pinion rends: Laid low in dust the pinion waves no more, The trunk disfigured stiffens in its gore.

What hosts of heroes fell beneath his force!

What heaps of chicken carnage mark'd his course!

How oft, O Strymon, thy lone banks along, Did wailing Echo waft the funeral song! 120 And now from far the mingling clamours rise, Loud and more loud rebounding through the skies.

From skirt to skirt of Heaven, with stormy sway, A cloud rolls on, and darkens all the day.

Near and more near descends the dreadful shade, And now in battailous array display'd, On sounding wings, and screaming in their ire, The cranes rush onward, and the fight require.

The pigmy warriors eye with fearless glare The host thick swarming o'er the burden'd air; 130 Thick swarming now, but to their native land Doom'd to return a scanty straggling band.-- When sudden, darting down the depth of heaven, Fierce on the expecting foe the cranes are driven, The kindling frenzy every bosom warms, The region echoes to the crash of arms; Loose feathers from the encountering armies fly, And in careering whirlwinds mount the sky.

To breathe from toil upsprings the panting crane, Then with fresh vigour downwards darts again. 140 Success in equal balance hovering hangs.

Here, on the sharp spear, mad with mortal pangs, The bird transfix'd in b.l.o.o.d.y vortex whirls, Yet fierce in death the threatening talon curls; There, while the life-blood bubbles from his wound, With little feet the pigmy beats the ground: Deep from his breast the short, short sob he draws, And, dying, curses the keen-pointed claws.

Trembles the thundering field, thick cover'd o'er With falchions, mangled wings, and streaming gore; 150 And pigmy arms, and beaks of ample size, And here a claw, and there a finger, lies.

Encompa.s.s'd round with heaps of slaughter'd foes, All grim in blood the pigmy champion glows; And on the a.s.sailing host impetuous springs, Careless of nibbling bills and flapping wings; And 'midst the tumult wheresoe'er he turns, The battle with redoubled fury burns; From every side the avenging cranes amain Throng, to o'erwhelm this terror of the plain. 160 When suddenly (for such the will of Jove) A fowl enormous, sousing from above, The gallant chieftain clutch'd, and, soaring high, (Sad chance of battle!) bore him up the sky.

The cranes pursue, and, cl.u.s.tering in a ring, Chatter triumphant round the captive king.

But, ah! what pangs each pigmy bosom wrung, When, now to cranes a prey, on talons hung, High in the clouds they saw their helpless lord, His wriggling form still lessening as he soar'd. 170 Lo! yet again with unabated rage, In mortal strife the mingling hosts engage.

The crane with darted bill a.s.saults the foe, Hovering; then wheels aloft to 'scape the blow: The dwarf in anguish aims the vengeful wound; But whirls in empty air the falchion round.

Such was the scene, when 'midst the loud alarms Sublime the eternal Thunderer rose in arms, When Briareus, by mad ambition driven, Heaved Pelion huge, and hurl'd it high at heaven, 180 Jove roll'd redoubling thunders from on high, Mountains and bolts encounter'd in the sky; Till one stupendous ruin whelm'd the crew, Their vast limbs weltering wide in brimstone blue.

But now at length the pigmy legions yield, And, wing'd with terror, fly the fatal field.

They raise a weak and melancholy wail, All in distraction scattering o'er the vale.

p.r.o.ne on their routed rear the cranes descend; Their bills bite furious, and their talons rend; 190 With unrelenting ire they urge the chase, Sworn to exterminate the hated race.

'Twas thus the pigmy name, once great in war, For spoils of conquer'd cranes renown'd afar, Perish'd. For, by the dread decree of Heaven, Short is the date to earthly grandeur given, And vain are all attempts to roam beyond Where fate has fix'd the everlasting bound.

Fallen are the trophies of a.s.syrian power, And Persia's proud dominion is no more: 200 Yea, though to both superior far in fame, Thine empire, Latium, is an empty name!

And now, with lofty chiefs of ancient time, The pigmy heroes roam the Elysian clime.

Or, if belief to matron-tales be due, Full oft, in the belated shepherd's view, Their frisking forms, in gentle green array'd, Gambol secure amid the moonlight glade: Secure, for no alarming cranes molest, And all their woes in long oblivion rest: 210 Down the deep vale and narrow winding way They foot it featly, ranged in ringlets gay: 'Tis joy and frolic all, where'er they rove, And Fairy-people is the name they love.

[Footnote 1: 'Or little,' &c.: from Gray's Elegy.]

THE HARES.

A FABLE.

Yes, yes, I grant the sons of Earth Are doom'd to trouble from their birth.

We all of sorrow have our share; But say, is yours without compare?

Look round the world; perhaps you'll find Each individual of our kind Press'd with an equal load of ill, Equal at least: look further still, And own your lamentable case Is little short of happiness. 10 In yonder hut that stands alone Attend to Famine's feeble moan; Or view the couch where Sickness lies, Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes; His frame by strong convulsion torn, His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.

Or see, transfixt with keener pangs, Where o'er his h.o.a.rd the miser hangs; Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares, Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares; 20 Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll Their tempests on his hara.s.s'd soul.

But here perhaps it may avail To enforce our reasoning with a tale.

Mild was the morn, the sky serene, The jolly hunting band convene, The beagle's breast with ardour burns, The bounding steed the champaign spurns, And Fancy oft the game descries Through the hound's nose and huntsman's eyes, 30 Just then a council of the hares Had met on national affairs.

The chiefs were set; while o'er their head The furze its frizzled covering spread.

Long lists of grievances were heard, And general discontent appear'd.

"Our harmless race shall every savage Both quadruped and biped ravage?

Shall horses, hounds, and hunters still Unite their wits to work us ill? 40 The youth, his parent's sole delight, Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite, Whose pulse in every vein beats strong, Whose limbs leap light the vales along, May yet ere noontide meet his death, And lie dismember'd on the heath.

For youth, alas! nor cautious age, Nor strength, nor speed eludes their rage.

In every field we meet the foe, Each gale comes fraught with sounds of woe; 50 The morning but awakes our fears, The evening sees us bathed in tears.

But must we ever idly grieve, Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?

Small is each individual's force; To stratagem be our recourse; And then, from all our tribes combined, The murderer to his cost may find No foes are weak whom Justice arms, Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms. 60 Be roused; or liberty acquire, Or in the great attempt expire."

He said no more, for in his breast Conflicting thoughts the voice suppress'd: The fire of vengeance seem'd to stream From his swoln eyeball's yellow gleam.

And now the tumults of the war, Mingling confusedly from afar, Swell in the wind. Now louder cries Distinct of hounds and men arise. 70 Forth from the brake, with beating heart, The a.s.sembled hares tumultuous start, And, every straining nerve on wing, Away precipitately spring.

The hunting band, a signal given, Thick thundering o'er the plain are driven; O'er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound, And river broad, impetuous bound; Now plunge amid the forest shades, Glance through the openings of the glades; 80 Now o'er the level valley sweep, Now with short step strain up the steep; While backward from the hunter's eyes The landscape like a torrent flies.

At last an ancient wood they gain'd, By pruner's axe yet unprofaned.

High o'er the rest, by nature rear'd, The oak's majestic boughs appear'd; Beneath, a copse of various hue In barbarous luxuriance grew. 90 No knife had curb'd the rambling sprays, No hand had wove the implicit maze.

The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind, The hazel's stubborn stem entwined, And bramble twigs were wreathed around, And rough furze crept along the ground.

Here sheltering from the sons of murther, The hares their tired limbs drag no further.

But, lo! the western wind ere long Was loud, and roar'd the woods among; 100 From rustling leaves and crashing boughs The sound of woe and war arose.

The hares distracted scour the grove, As terror and amazement drove; But danger, wheresoe'er they fled, Still seem'd impending o'er their head.

Now crowded in a grotto's gloom, All hope extinct, they wait their doom.

Dire was the silence, till, at length, Even from despair deriving strength, 110 With b.l.o.o.d.y eye and furious look, A daring youth arose and spoke: "O wretched race, the scorn of Fate, Whom ills of every sort await!

O cursed with keenest sense to feel The sharpest sting of every ill!

Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme, Of liberty and vengeance dream, What now remains? To what recess Shall we our weary steps address, 120 Since Fate is evermore pursuing All ways, and means to work our ruin?

Are we alone, of all beneath, Condemn'd to misery worse than death?

Must we, with fruitless labour, strive In misery worse than death to live?

No. Be the smaller ill our choice; So dictates Nature's powerful voice.

Death's pang will in a moment cease; And then, all hail, eternal peace!" 130 Thus while he spoke, his words impart The dire resolve to every heart.

A distant lake in prospect lay, That, glittering in the solar ray, Gleam'd through the dusky trees, and shot A trembling light along the grot.

Thither with one consent they bend, Their sorrows with their lives to end; While each, in thought, already hears The water hissing in his ears. 140 Fast by the margin of the lake, Conceal'd within a th.o.r.n.y brake, A linnet sat, whose careless lay Amused the solitary day.

Careless he sung, for on his breast Sorrow no lasting trace impress'd; When suddenly he heard a sound Of swift feet traversing the ground.

Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies, Thence trembling casts around his eyes; 150 No foe appear'd, his fears were vain; Pleased he renews the sprightly strain.

The hares whose noise had caused his fright, Saw with surprise the linnet's flight.

"Is there on earth a wretch," they said, "Whom our approach can strike with dread?"

An instantaneous change of thought To tumult every bosom wrought.

So fares the system-building sage, Who, plodding on from youth to age, 160 At last on some foundation dream Has rear'd aloft his goodly scheme, And proved his predecessors fools, And bound all nature by his rules; So fares he in that dreadful hour, When injured Truth exerts her power, Some new phenomenon to raise, Which, bursting on his frighted gaze, From its proud summit to the ground Proves the whole edifice unsound. 170 "Children," thus spoke a hare sedate, Who oft had known the extremes of fate, "In slight events the docile mind May hints of good instruction find, That our condition is the worst, And we with such misfortunes curst, As all comparison defy, Was late the universal cry; When, lo! an accident so slight As yonder little linnet's flight, 180 Has made your stubborn hearts confess (So your amazement bids me guess) That all our load of woes and fears Is but a part of what he bears.

Where can he rest secure from harms, Whom even a helpless hare alarms?

Yet he repines not at his lot; When past, the danger is forgot: On yonder bough he trims his wings, And with unusual rapture sings: 190 While we, less wretched, sink beneath Our lighter ills, and rush to death.

No more of this unmeaning rage, But hear, my friends, the words of age: "When, by the winds of autumn driven, The scatter'd clouds fly 'cross the heaven, Oft have we, from some mountain's head, Beheld the alternate light and shade Sweep the long vale. Here, hovering, lowers The shadowy cloud; there downward pours, 200 Streaming direct, a flood of day, Which from the view flies swift away; It flies, while other shades advance, And other streaks of sunshine glance.

Thus chequer'd is the life below With gleams of joy and clouds of woe.

Then hope not, while we journey on, Still to be basking in the sun; Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn, That sunshine will no more return. 210 If, by your terrors overcome, Ye fly before the approaching gloom, The rapid clouds your flight pursue, And darkness still o'ercasts your view.

Who longs to reach the radiant plain Must onward urge his course amain: For doubly swift the shadow flies, When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies.

At least be firm, and undismay'd Maintain your ground! the fleeting shade 220 Ere long spontaneous glides away, And gives you back the enlivening ray.

Lo, while I speak, our danger past!

No more the shrill horn's angry blast Howls in our ear: the savage roar Of war and murder is no more.

Then s.n.a.t.c.h the moment fate allows, Nor think of past or future woes."

He spoke; and hope revives; the lake That instant one and all forsake, 230 In sweet amus.e.m.e.nt to employ The present sprightly hour of joy.

Now from the western mountain's brow, Compa.s.s'd with clouds of various glow, The sun a broader orb displays, And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.

The lawn a.s.sumes a fresher green, And dew-drops spangle all the scene.

The balmy zephyr breathes along, The shepherd sings his tender song, 240 With all their lays the groves resound, And falling waters murmur round: Discord and care were put to flight, And all was peace and calm delight.