'I guide all my motions with freedom and ease, 'Run backward and forward, and'turn when I please. 'Of nature' (grown weary) 'you shocking essay ! 'I spurn you thus from me,-crawl out of my way."' The reptile, insulted, and vex'd to the soul, Crept onwards, and hid himself close in a hole; But time, friend to all, soon reliev'd his distress, And sent him abroad in a Butterfly's dress, Ere long the proud Ant, as repassing the road, (Fatigu'd from the harvest, and tugging his load,) The beau on a violet bank he beheld,, Whose gesture in glory a monarch's excellid; Bow'd low with respect and was trudging away: "Stop, friend," says the Butterfly, don't be surpriz'de; 'I once was the reptile your spurn'd and despis'd; But now I can mount; in the sunbeams I play, 'While you must for ever drudge on in your way.' MORAL. A wretch, tho' to-day he's o'er-loaded with sorrow, May soar above those that oppress'd him--to morrow. FABLE XXXII. THE FOX AND THE CAT. By Cunningham. THE Fox and the Cat, as they travell'd one day, With moral discourses cut shorter the way. 'Tis great,' says the Fox, to make justice our guide !' 'How Godlike is mercy!' Grimalkin replied. While thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood, Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood, Rush'd forth, as he saw the dull shepherd asleep, And seiz'd for his supper an innocent sheep. 'In vain wretched victim for mercy you bleat: "When mutton's at hand,' says the Wolf, 'I must eat.' Grimalkin's astonish'd-the Fox stood aghast To see the fell beast at his bloody repast. 'What a wretch!' says the Cat, ''tis the vilest of brutes! 'Does he feed upon flesh when there's herbage and roots?' Cries the Fox: 'While our oaks give us acorns so good, • What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood!' Well, onward they march'd, and they moraliz'd still, 'Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill: Sly Reynard survey'd them with gluttonous eyes, stray, The greedy Grimalkin secur'd as her prey. A Spider, that sat in her web on the wall, Perceiv'd the poor victims, and pitied their fall. She cried: Of such murders how guiltless am I!' So ran to regale on a new-taken fly. MORAL. The faults of our neighbours with freedom we blame, But tax not ourselves, tho' we practise the same. FABLE XXXIII. THE SHEEP AND THE BRAMBLE BUSH. By Cunningham. A THICK-twisted brake, in the time of a storm, So snug, for a while, he lay shelter'd and warm, The clouds are now scatter'd, the winds are at peace, But, ah! the fell thicket lays hold of his fleece, My friend, who the thicket of Law. never tried, Tho' judgment and sentence are pass'd on your side, FABLE XXXIV. THE THRUSH AND THE PIE. By Cunningham. CONCEAL'D within a hawthorn bush, At length the little wond'ring race 4 They thought it hard to be denied, Stole to the matron's vacant seat, Rush'd forward, with- My friends, you see 'The mistress of the choir in me; • Here be your due devotion paid; Were never form'd for warbling notes; But, if these lessons came from you, Repeat them in the public view: That your assertions may be clear, 'Let us behold as well as hear.' The length'ning song, the soft'ning strain, All she could compass was a scream. |