His honest heart was fill'd with pain, '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 every day. 'No sooner has th' industrious swain 'His field turn'd up, and sow'd the grain, 'But ye come flocking on the wing, 6 Prepar❜d to snatch it ere it spring : And, after all his toil and care, 'Leave ev'ry furrow spoil'd and bare: 'If aught escapes your greedy bills, 'Which nurs'd by summer grows and fills, 'Tis still your prey: and, tho' 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, 'Tho' men and cattle should get none. 'I never did, in any case, 'Descend to practices so base, 'Tho' stung with hunger's sharpest pain, 'I still have scorn'd to touch a grain, · E'en when I had it in my power 'To do't with safety every hour : For, trust me, nought that can be gain'd Is worth a character sustain'd.' Thus, with a face austerely grave, 'What has been said is strictly true, '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 flies; "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, 6 Say is he ever off his guard, 'While you are hov'ring o'er the yard? Straight soar'd aloft, and left the place. FABLE XXIII. THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE GLOW-WORM. By Wilkie. WHEN Ignorance possess'd the schools, By rules of art to play the fool. Aristotle. E'en Plato, from example bad, Would oft turn Sophist and run mad ; : Make Socrates himself discourse Like Clarke and Leibnitz, oft-times worse; This moment rais'd, the next pull'd down; From moss and mushrooms up to man. One ev❜ning, when the sun was set, Mark'd by a circle on the ground Of livid light some inches round. Quoth he,If Glow-worms never shone, 'To light the earth when day is gone, t In spite of all the stars that burn, • Primeval darkness would 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, 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; "From Phœbus in the nether skies: |