To bid your friend his errours mend, Is almost certain to offend: Though you in softest terms advise, Confess him good; admit him wise; In vain you sweeten the discourse, He thinks you call him fool, or worse; You paint his character, and try If he will own it, and apply. Without a name reprove and warn : Here none are hurt, and all may learn. This too must fail, the picture shown, No man will take it for his own. In moral lectures treat the case, Say this is honest, that is base; In conversation none will bear it; And for the pulpit, few come near it. And is there then no other way A moral lesson to convey?
Must all that shall attempt to teach, Admonish, satyrize, or preach ? Yes, there is one, an ancient art, By sages found to reach the heart, Ere science with distinctions nice Had fixt what virtue is, and vice, Inventing all the various names On which the moralist declaims : They wou'd by simple tales advise, Which took the hearer by surprise; Alarm'd his conscience, unprepar'd, Ere pride had put it on its guard; And made him from himself receive The lessons which they meant to give. That this device will oft prevail, And gain its end, when others fail, If any shall pretend to doubt, The tale which follows makes it out,
There was a little stubborn dame Whom no authority could tame, Restive by long indulgence grown, No will she minded but her own: At trifles oft she'd scold and fret, Then in a corner take a seat, And sourly moping all the day, Disdain alike to work or play. Papa all softer arts bad try'd, And sharper remedies apply'd ; But both were vain, for every course He took still made her worse and worse. 'Tis strange to think how female wit, So oft shou'd make a lucky hit, When man with all his high pretence To deeper judgment, sounder sense, Will err, and measures false pursue→ 'Tis very strange I own, but true.- Mama observ'd the rising lass, By stealth retiring to the glass, To practise little airs unseen, In the true genius of thirteen: On this a deep design she laid To tame the humour of the maid; Contriving like a prudent mother To make one folly cure another. Upon the wall against the seat Which Jessy us'd for her retreat, Whene'er by accident offended, A looking-glass was straight suspended, That it might show her how deform'd
She look'd, and frightful when she storm'd; And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty, To bend her humour to her duty.
All this the looking glass achiev'd, Its threats were minded and believ'd. The maid, who spurn'd at all advice, Grew tame and gentle in a trice. So when all other means had fail'd, The silent monitor prevail'd.
Thus, fable to the human-kind Presents an image of the mind; It is a mirror where we spy
At large our own deformity,
And learn of course those faults to mend, Which but to mention would offend.
THE KITE AND THE ROOKS You say 'tis vain in verse or prose
To tell what ev'ry body knows, And stretch invention to express Plain truths which all men will confess: Go on the argument to mend, Prove that to know is to attend, And that we ever keep in sight What reason tells us once is right: Till this is done you must excuse The zeal and freedom of my Muse, In hinting to the human-kind What few deny but fewer mind: There is a folly which we blame, 'Tis strange that it should want a name, For sure no other finds a place
So often in the human race;
I mean the tendency to spy
Our neighbour's faults with sharpen'd eye, And make his lightest failings known, Without attending to our own. The prude, in daily use to vex With groundless censure half the sex, Of rigid virtue, honour nice, And much a foe to every vice, Tells lies without remorse and shame, Yet never thinks herself to blame. A scriv'ner, though afraid to kill, Yet scruples not to forge a will; Abhors the soldier's bloody feats, While he as freely damns all cheats. The reason's plain, 'tis not his way To lie, to cozen and betray. But tell me if to take by force, Is not as bad at least, or worse. The pimp who owns it as his trade To poach for letchers, and be paid, Thinks himself honest in his station, But rails at rogues that sell the nation: Nor would he stoop in any case, And stain his honour for a place. To mark this errour of mankind The tale which follows is design'd.
A flight of rooks one harvest morn Had stopt upon a field of corn, Just when a kite, as authors say, Was passing on the wing that way: His honest heart was fill'd with pain, To see the farmer lose his grain, So lighting gently on a shock He thus the foragers bespoke.
"Believe me, sirs, you're much to blame, ,Tis strange that neither fear nor shame
Can keep you from your usual way Of stealth, and pilf'ring ev'ry day. No sooner has th' industrious swain His field turn'd up and sow'd the grain, But ye come flocking on the wing, Prepar'd to snatch it ere it spring: And after all his toil and care Leave every furrow spoil'd and bare: If aught escapes your greedy bills, Which nurs'd by summer grows and fills, 'Tis still your prey: and though ye know No rook did ever till or sow, Ye boldly reap, without regard To justice, industry's reward, And use it freely as your own, Though men and cattle shou'd get none. I never did in any case
Descend to practises so base; Though stung with hunger's sharpest pain, I still have scorn'd to touch a grain, Even when I had it in my pow'r, To do 't with safety every hour: For, trust me, nought that can be gain'd Is worth a character unstain'd."
Thus with a face austerely grave Harangu'd the hypocrite and knave ; And answering from amidst the flock A rook with indignation spoke.
"What has been said is strictly true, Yet comes not decently from you; For sure it indicates a mind From selfish passions more than blind, To miss your greater crimes, and quote Our lighter failings thus by rote. I must confess we wrong the swain, Too oft by pilf'ring of his grain: But is our guilt like yours, I pray, Who rob and murder every day? . No harmless bird can mount the skies But you attack him as he dies; And when at eve he lights to rest, You stoop and snatch him from his nest. The husbandman who seems to share So large a portion of your care, Say, is he ever off his guard, While you are hov'ring o'er the yard? He knows too well your usual tricks, Your ancient spite to tender chicks, And that you, like a felon, watch For something to surprise and snatch." At this rebuke so just, the kite Surpris'd, abash'd, and silenc'd quite, And prov'd a villain to his face, Straight soar'd aloft and left the place.
THE MUSE AND THE SHEPHERD.
Ler every bard who seeks applause Be true to virtue and her cause, Nor ever try to raise his fame By praising that which merits blame; The vain attempt he needs must rue, For disappointment will ensue. Virtue with her superior charms Exalts the poet's soul and warms, His taste refines, his genius fires, Like Phoebus and the Nine inspires;
While vice, though seemingly approv'd, Is coldly flatter'd, never lov'd. Palemon once a story told, Which by conjecture must be old: I have a kind of half conviction That at the best 'tis but a fiction; But taken right and understood, The moral certainly is good.
A shepherd swain was wont to sing The infant beauties of the spring, The bloom of summer, winter hoar, The autumn rich in various store; And prais'd in numbers strong and clear The Ruler of the changeful year. To hunan themes he'd next descend, The shepherd's harmless life commend, And prove him happier than the great With all their pageantry and state: Who oft for pleasure and for wealth, Exchange their innocence and health; The Muses listen'd to his lays And crown'd him as he sung with bays. Euterpe, goddess of the lyre, A harp bestow'd with golden wire : And oft wou'd teach him how to sing, Or touch with art the trembling string His fame o'er all the mountains flew, And to his cot the shepherds drew; They heard his music with delight, Whole summer days from morn to nights Nor did they ever think him long, Such was the magic of his song: Some rural present each prepar'd, His skill to honour and reward; A flute, a sheep-hook, or a lamb Or kidling follow'd by its dam: For bards it seems in earlier days, Got something more than empty praise. All this continu'd for a while, But soon our songster chang'd his style, Infected with the common itch, His gains to double and grow rich : Or fondly seeking new applause, Or this or t'other was the cause; One thing is certain, that his rhymes Grew more obsequious to the times, Less stiff and formal, alter'd quite To what a courtier calls polite, Whoe'er grew rich, by right or wrong, Became the hero of a song:
No nymph or shepherdess could wed, But he must sing the nuptial bed, And still was ready to recite The secret transports of the night, In strains too luscious for the ear Of sober chastity to bear. Astonish'd at a change so great, No more the shepherds sought his seat, But in their place, a horned crowd Of satyrs flock'd from every wood, Drawn by the magic of his lay, To dance, to frolic, sport and play. The goddess of the lyre disdain'd To see her sacred gift profan'd, And gliding swiftly to the place, With indignation in her face, The trembling shepherd thus address'd, In awful majesty confess'd.
"Thou wretched fool, that harp resign, For know it is no longer thine;
It was not given you to inspire A herd like this with loose desire, Nor to assist that venal praise Which vice may purchase, if it pays: Such offices my lyre disgrace; Here take this bag-pipe in its place. 'Tis fitter far, believe it true, Both for these miscreants and you." The swain dismay'd, without a word, Submitted, and the harp restor❜d.
THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE GLOWWORM.
WHEN ignorance possess'd the schools, And reign'd by Aristotle's rules, Ere Verulam, li e dawning light, Rose to dispel the Gothic night: A man was taught to shut his eyes, And grow abstracted to be wise. Nature's broad volume fairly spread, Where all true science might be read The wisdom of th' Eternal Mind, Declar'd and publish'd to mankind, Was quite neglected, for the whims Of mortals and their airy dreams : By narrow principles and few, By hasty maxims, oft untrue, By words and phrases ill-defin'd, Evasive truth they hop'd to bind; Which still escap'd them, and the elves At last caught nothing but themselves. Nor is this folly modern quite, 'Tis ancient too: the Stagirite Improv'd at first, and taught his school By rules of art to play the fool. Ev'a Plato, from example bad, Would oft turn sophist and run mad; Make Socrates himself discourse
Like Clarke and Leibnitz, oft-times worse; 'Bout quirks and subtilties contending, Beyond all human comprehending. From some strange bias men pursue False knowledge still in place of true, Build airy systems of their own,
This moment rais'd, the next pull'd down ; While few attempt to catch those rays Of truth which nature still displays Throughout the universal plan,
From moss and mushrooms up to man. This sure were better, but we hate To borrow when we can create; And therefore stupidly prefer, Our own conceits, by which we err, To all the wisdom to be gain'd From nature and her laws explain'd. One ev'ning when the Sun was set, A grasshopper and glowworm met Upon a hillock in a dale,
As Mab the fairy tells the tale. Vain and conceited of his spark, Which brighten'd as the night grew dark, The shining reptile swell'd with pride To see his rays on every side, Mark'd by a circle on the ground Of livid light some inches round.
Quoth he, "If glowworms never shone, To light the Earth when day is gone,
In spite of all the stars that burn, Primeval darkness wou'd return: They're less and dimmer, one may see, Besides much farther off than we; And therefore thro' a long descent Their light is scatter'd quite and spent: While ours, compacter and at hand, Keeps night and darkness at a stand, Diffus'd around in many a ray, Whose brightness emulates the day."
This pass'd and more without dispute, The patient grasshopper was mute: But soon the east began to glow With light appearing from below, And level from the ocean's streams The Moon emerging shot her beams. To gild the mountains and the woods, And shake and glitter on the floods. The glowworm, when he found his light Grow pale and faint and vanish quite Before the Moon's prevailing ray, Began his envy to display.
"That globe," quoth he, "which seems so fair, Which brightens all the Earth and air, And sends its beams so far abroad, Is nought, believe me, but a clod ; A thing which, if the Sun were gone, Has no more light in't than a stone, Subsisting merely by supplies From Phoebus in the nether skies: My light indeed, I must confess, On some occasions will be less; But spite itself will hardly say I'm debtor for a single ray; 'Tis all my own, and on the score Of merit, mounts to ten times more Than any planet can demand For light dispens'd at second hand." To hear the paltry insect boast, The grasshopper all patience lost."
Quoth he, "My friend, it may be so, The Moon with borrow'd light may glow; That your faint glimm'ring is your own, I think, is question'd yet by none: But sure the office to collect The solar brightness and reflect, To catch those rays that wou'd be spent Quite useless in the firmament, And turn them downwards on the shade Which absence of the Sun has made, Amounts to more in point of merit Than all your tribe did e'er inherit: Oft by that planet's friendly ray The midnight trav'ler finds his way; Safe by the favour of her beams, 'Midst precipices, lakes and streams; While you mislead him, and your light, Seen like a cottage-lamp by night, With hopes to find a safe retreat, Allures and tempts him to his fate: As this is so, I needs must call The merit of your light but small: You need not boast on 't though your own; 'fis light indeed, but worse than none; Unlike to what the Moon supplies, Which you call borrow'd, and despise,"
I traverse all the house and play
THE APE, THE PARROT, AND THE My tricks and gambols ev'ry day:
To deal with fools dispos'd to rhyme; Dissuasive arguments provoke Their utmost rage as soon as spoke: Encourage them, and for a day Or two you're safe by giving way;
But when they find themselves betray'd, On you at last the blame is laid.
They hate and scorn you as a traitor, The common lot of those who flatter: But can a scribbler, sir, be shunn'd? What will you do when teas'd and dunn'd?
When watch'd, and caught, and closely press'd, When complimented and caress'd, When Bavius greets you with a bow, "Sir, please to read a line or two ;" If you approve and say they're clever, "You make me happy, sir, for ever." What can be done? the case is plain, No methods of escape remain : You're fairly noos'd, and must consent To bear, what nothing can prevent, A coxcomb's anger; and your fate Will be to suffer soon or late.
An ape that was the sole delight Of an old woman day and night, Indulg'd at table and in bed, Attended like a child and fed:
Who knew each trick, and twenty more Than ever monkey play'd before, At last grew frantic and wou'd try, In spite of nature's laws, to fly. Oft from the window wou'd he view The passing swallows as they flew, Observe them fluttering round the walls, Or gliding o'er the smooth canals: He too must fly, and cope with these; For this and nothing else wou'd please: Oft thinking from the window's height, Three stories down to take his flight: He still was something loth to venture, As tending strongly to the centre: And knowing that the least mistake Might cast a limb, perhaps his neck. The case you'll own was something nice; He thought it best to ask advice; And to the parrot straight applying, Allow'd to be a judge of flying,
He thus began: "You'll think me rude, Forgive me if I do intrude, For you alone my doubts can clear In something that concerns me near ; Do you imagine, if I try, That I shall e'er attain to fly? The project's whimsical, no doubt, But ere you censure hear me out: That liberty's our greatest blessing You'll grant me without farther pressing; To live confin'd, 'tis plain and clear, Is something very hard to bear: This you must know, who for an age Have been kept pris'ner in a cage, Deny'd the privilege to soar With boundless freedom as before. I have, 'tis true, much greater scope Than you my friend, can ever hope;
Oft with my mistress in a chair
I ride abroad to take the air; Make visits with her, walk at large, A maid or footman's constant charge. Yet this is nothing, for I find Myself still hamper'd and confin'd; A grov'ling thing: I fain would rise Above the Earth and mount the skies: The meanest birds, and insects too, This feat with greatest ease can do. To that gay creature turn about That's beating on the pane without; Ten days ago, perhaps but five, A worm, it scarcely seem'd alive: By threads suspended, tough and small, 'Midst dusty cobwebs on a wall; Now dress'd in all the diff'rent dyes That vary in the ev'ning skies, He soars at large, and on the wing Enjoys with freedom all the spring; Skims the fresh lakes, and rising sees Beneath him far the loftiest trees; And when he rests, he makes his bow'r The cup of some delicious flow'r. Shall creatures so obscurely bred, On mere corruption nurs'd and fed, A glorious privilege obtain, Which I can never hope to gain? Shall I, like man's imperial race In manners, customs, shape and face, Expert in all ingenious tricks,
To tumble, dance, and leap o'er sticks; Who know to sooth and coax my betters, And match a beau, at least in letters; Shall I despair, and never try (What meanest insects can) to fly? Say, mayn't I without dread or care At once commit me to the air, And not fall down and break my bones Upon those hard and flinty stones? Say, if to stir my limbs before Will make me glide along or soar? All things they say are learn'd by trying; No doubt it is the same with flying. I wait your judgment with respect, And shall proceed as you direct."
Poor Poll, with gen'rous pity mov'd, The Ape's fond rashness thus reprov'd: For, though instructed by mankind, Her tongue to candour still inclin'd.
66 My friend, the privilege to rise Above the Earth and mount the skies, Is glorious sure, and 'tis my fate To feel the want on't with regret ; A pris'ner to a cage confin'd, Though wing'd and of the flying kind. With you the case is not the same, You 're quite terrestrial by your frame, And shou'd be perfectly content With your peculiar element: You have no wings, I pray reflect, To lift you and your course direct; Those arms of yours will never do, Not twenty in the place of two; They ne'er can lift you from the ground, For broad and long, they're thick and round; And therefore if you choose the way,
To leap the window, as you say,
'Tis certain that you'll be the jest Of every insect, bird and beast, When you lie batter'd by your fall Just at the bottom of the wall.
Be prudent then, improve the pow'rs Which nature gives in place of ours. You'll find them readily conduce At once to pleasure and to use. But airy whims and crotchets lead To certain loss, and ne'er succeed: As folks, though inly vex'd and teas'd, Will oft seem satisfy'd and pleas'd."
The ape approv'd of every word, At this time utter'd by the bird: But nothing in opinion chang'd, Thought only how to be reveng'd. It happen'd when the day was fair, That Poll was set to take the air, Just where the monkey oft sat poring About experiments in soaring: Dissembling his contempt and rage, He stept up sofily to the cage, And with a sly malicious grin, Accosted thus the bird within.
"You say, I am not form'd for flight; In this you certainly are right; 'Tis very plain upon reflection, But to yourself there's no objection, Since flying is the very trade For which the winged race is made; And therefore for our mutual sport, I'll make you fly, you can't be hurt." With that he slyly slipt the string Which held the cage up by the ring. In vain the parrot begg'd and pray'd, No word was minded that she said; Down went the cage, and on the ground Bruis'd and half-dead poor Poll was found. Pug who for some time had attended To that alone which now was ended, Again had leisure to pursue The project be had first in view.
Quoth he, "A person if he's wise Will only with his friends advise, They know his temper and his parts, And have his interest near their hearts. In matters which he should forbear, They'll hold him back with prudent care, But never from an envious spirit Forbid him to display his merit;
Or judging wrong, from spleen and hate His talents slight or underrate: I acted sure with small reflection In asking counsel and direction From a sly minion whom I know To be my rival and my foe: One who will constantly endeavour To hurt me in our lady's favour, And watch and plot to keep me down, From obvious interests of her own: But on the top of that old tow'r An honest daw has made his bow'r ; A faithful friend whom one may trust, My debtor too for many a crust; Which in the window oft I lay For him to come and take away : From gratitude no doubt he'll give Such counsel as I may receive;
Well back'd with reasons strong and plain To push me forward or restrain."
One morning when the daw appear'd, The project was propos'd and heard: And though the bird was much surpris'd To find friend Pug so ill advis'd, He rather chose that he shou'd try At his own proper risk to fly, Than hazard, in a case so nice, To shock him by too free advice. Quoth he, "I'm certain that you'll find The project answer to your mind; Without suspicion, dread or care, At once commit you to the air; Yo'll soar aloft, or, if you please, Proceed straight forwards at your ease: The whole depends on resolution, Which you possess from constitution; And if you follow as I lead,
'Tis past a doubt you must succeed."
So saying, from the turret's height The Jack-daw shot with downward flight, And on the edge of a canal,
Some fifty paces from the wall, 'Lighted obsequious to attend
The monkey when he should descend: But he, altho' he had believ'd The flatterer and was deceiv'd, Felt some misgivings at his heart In vent'ring on so new an art: But yet at last, 'tween hope and fear, Himself he trusted to the air; But far'd like him whom poets mention With Dedalus's old invention : Directly downwards on his head He fell, and lay an hour for dead. The various creatures in the place, Had diff'rent thoughts upon the case, From some his fate compassion drew, But those I must confess were few; The rest esteem'd him rightly serv'd, And in the manner he deserv'd, For playing tricks beyond his sphere, Nor thought the punishment severe. They gather'd round him as he lay, And jeer'd him when he limp'd away.
Pug, disappointed thus and hurt, And grown besides the public sport, Found all his different passions change At once to fury and revenge : The daw 'twas useless to pursue; His helpless brood, as next in view, With unrelenting paws he seiz'd, One's neck he wrung, another squeez'd, Till of the number four or five, No single bird was left alive.
Thus counsellors, in all regards Though different, meet with like rewards, The story shows the certain fate Of every mortal soon or late, Whose evil genius for his crimes Connects with any fop that rhymes.
THE BOY AND THE RAINBOW. DECLARE, ye sages, if ye find 'Mongst animals of ev'ry kind, Of each condition, sort, and size, From whales and elephants to flies, A creature that mistakes his plan, And errs so constantly as man?
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