Page images
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors][merged small]

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 slily 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 he 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 he 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 int'rest near their hearts.
In matters, which he should forbear,
They 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 under-rate.
'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 my 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, tho' the bird was much surpriz'd To find friend Pug so ill-advis'd, He rather chose that he should try At his own proper risk to fly, Than hazard, in a case so nice, To shock him by too free advice.

[ocr errors]

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;

[ocr errors]

You'll soar aloft, or, if you please,

'Proceed straight forward 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 Jackdaw 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 beliey'd,
The flatterer, and was deceiv'd,
Felt some misgivings at his heart
In venturing 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 Dædalus's old invention :
Directly downwards on his head
He fell, and lay an hour for dead.

The various creatures in the place
Had different thoughts upon the case;
Some from 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 diff'rent 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
Tho' diff'rent, meet with like rewards:
The story shews the certain fate
Of each Adviser soon or late.

FABLE XXII.

THE KITE AND THE ROOKS.

By Wilkie.

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 censures half the sex,
Of rigid virtue, honour nice,
And much a foe to every vice,

Tells lies without remorse or shame,
Yet never thinks herself to blame.
The Scriv'ner, tho' 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?
To mark this error of mankind
The tale which follows is design'd.

A flight of Rooks one harvest morn
Had stopp'd upon a field of corn,
Just when a Kite, as authors say,
Was passing on the wing that way:

« PreviousContinue »