'Or say that horses be my theme, Hath not the staggers thinn'd my team? 'Have not a thousand ills beside 'Depriv'd my stable of its pride? 'When I survey my lands around, 'What thorns and thistles spread my ground! 'Doth not the grain my hopes beguile, 'And mildews mock the thresher's toil? However poor the harvests past, 'What so deficient as the last! 'But tho', nor blast nor mildews rise, My turnips are destroy'd by flies; 'My sheep are pin'd to such degree, 'That not a butcher comes to me. 'Seasons are chang'd from what they were, 'And hence too foul, or hence too fair. 'Now scorching heat and drought annoy, • And now returning showers destroy. Thus have I pass'd my better years ''Midst disappointments, cares and tears. And, now, when I compute my gains, • What have I reap'd for all my pains? 'Oh! had I known in manhood's prime These slow convictions wrought by time; 'Would I have brav'd the various woes Of summer suns, and winter snows? 'Would I have tempted every sky, "Where wealth attends the middle stage, 'Look thro' your team, and where's the steed Who dares dispute with me his breed? But, ah! it now avails me not By what illustrious chief begot! Spavins pay no regard to birth, And since poor Dun became your own, By large and weighty loads of dung? When the shorn meadows claim your care, And fragrant cocks perfume the air; "When harvest's ripen'd fruits abound, 'And Plenty waves her sheaves around; 'True to my collar, home I bear 'The treasures of the fruitful year. And, tho' this drudgery be mine, You never heard me once repine. 'Yet what rewards have crown'd my days? 'I'm grudg'd the poor reward of praise. For oats small gratitude I owe, 'Beans were untasted joys, you know. 'And, now I'm hast'ning to my end, 'Past services can find no friend. 'Infirmities, disease, and age, 'Provoke my surly driver's rage. 'Look to my wounded flanks, you'll see 'No horse was ever us'd like me. 'But now I eat my meals with pain, 'Averse to masticate the grain. 'Hence you direct, at night and morn, 'That chaff accompany my corn; 6 For husks, altho' my teeth be few, 'Force my reluctant jaws to chew. 'What then? of life shall I complain, 'And call it fleeting, false and vain ? Against the world shall I inveigh, 'Because my grinders now decay? "You think it were the wiser plan, • Had I consorted ne'er with man; 'Had I my liberty maintain❜d, 'Or liberty by flight regain'd, 'And rang'd o'er distant hills and dales "With the wild foresters of Wales. 'Grant I succeeded to my mind'Is happiness to hills confin'd? Don't famine oft erect her throne Upon the rugged mountain's stone? • When snows descending choke the vale? 'Disease and death ne'er enter there? 'Say, had I been the desert's foal, My back had ne'er sustain'd thy weight, 'My chest ne'er known thy waggon's freight; 'But now my several powers combine 'To answer Nature's ends and thine. 'I'm useful thus in every view 量 Oh! could I say the same of you! 'Superior evils had ensu'd, 'With prescience had I been endu’d. 'When future griefs elude our sight. 'To blindness then what thanks are due! 'It makes each single comfort two. 'The colt, unknown to pain and toil, Anticipates to-morrow's smile. Yon lamb enjoys the present hour, 'As stranger to the butcher's power. 'Your's is a wild Utopian scheme, A boy would blush to own your dream. 'Be your profession what it will, 'No province is exempt from ill. 'Quite from the cottage to the throne, 'Stations have sorrows of their own. 'Why should a peasant then explore 'What longer heads ne'er found before? 'Go, preach my doctrine to your son, By yours, the lad would be undone. But, whether he regards or not, 6 The lecture would be soon forgot. 'The hopes which gull'd the parent's breast, 'Ere long will make his son their jest. 'Tho' now these cobweb-cheats you spurn, 'Yet every man's a dupe in turn. 'Else life would stagnate at its source, 'And Man, and Horse decline the course. 'Then bid young Ralpho never mind it, 'But take the world as he shall find it,' |