FABLES OF GAY, COWPER, AND OTHERS
Reading edition
"Brutes are my theme. Am I to blame If men in morals are the same? I no man call or ape or ass; 'Tis his own conscience holds the glass. Thus void of all offence I write; Who claims the fable, knows his right."
JOHN GAY
FABLES OF GAY AND COWPER
The Monkey Who Had Seen the World
A Monkey, to reform the times, Resolved to visit foreign climes; For men in distant regions roam, To bring politer manners home. So forth he fares, all toil defies; Misfortune serves to make us wise. At length the treacherous snare was laid; Poor Pug was caught, to town conveyed; There sold. How envied was his doom, Made captive in a lady's room! Proud as a lover of his chains, He day by day her favour gains. Whene'er the duty of the day The toilette calls, with mimic play He twirls her knot, he cracks her fan, Like any other gentleman. In visits, too, his parts and wit, When jests grew dull, were sure to hit. Proud with applause, he thought his mind In every courtly art refined; Like Orpheus, burned with public zeal To civilize the monkey weal: So watched occasion, broke his chain, And sought his native woods again. The hairy sylvans round him press Astonished at his strut and dress. Some praise his sleeve, and others gloat Upon his rich embroidered coat; His dapper periwig commending, With the black tail behind depending; His powdered back above, below, Like hoary frost or fleecy snow: But all, with envy and desire, His fluttering shoulder-knot admire. "Hear and improve," he pertly cries, "I come to make a nation wise. Weigh your own worth, support your place, The next in rank to human race. In cities long I passed my days, Conversed with men, and learned their ways, Their dress, their courtly manners see; Reform your state, and copy me. Seek ye to thrive? in flatt'ry deal; Your scorn, your hate, with that conceal. Seem only to regard your friends, But use them for your private ends. Stint not to truth the flow of wit; Be prompt to lie whene'er 'tis fit. Bend all your force to spatter merit; Scandal is conversation's spirit. Boldly to everything pretend, And men your talents shall commend. I know the Great. Observe me right, So shall you grow like man polite." He spoke and bowed. With mutt'ring jaws The wond'ring circle grinned applause. Now, warmed with malice, envy, spite, Their most obliging friends they bite; And, fond to copy human ways, Practise new mischiefs all their days. Thus the dull lad, too tall for school. With travel finishes the fool: Studious of every coxcomb's airs, He gambles, dresses, drinks, and swears; O'er looks with scorn all virtuous arts, For vice is fitted to his parts.
JOHN GAY
The Shepherd's Dog and the Wolf
A Wolf, with hunger fierce and bold, Ravag'd the plains, and thinn'd the fold: Deep in the wood secure he lay, The thefts of night regal'd the day. In vain the shepherd's wakeful care Had spread the toils, and watch'd the snare; In vain the Dog pursued his pace, The fleeter robber mock'd the chase. As Lightfoot rang'd the forest round, By chance his foe's retreat he found. "Let us a while the war suspend, And reason as from friend to friend." "A truce?" replies the Wolf. "'Tis done." The Dog the parley thus begun. "How can that strong intrepid mind Attack a weak defenceless kind? Those jaws should prey on nobler food, And drink the boar's and lion's blood, Great souls with generous pity melt, Which coward tyrants never felt. How harmless is our fleecy care! Be brave, and let thy mercy spare." "Friend," says the Wolf, "the matter weigh; Nature designed us beasts of prey; As such, when hunger finds a treat, 'Tis necessary Wolves should eat. If mindful of the bleating weal, Thy bosom burn with real zeal, Hence, and thy tyrant lord beseech; To him repeat the moving speech: A Wolf eats sheep but now and then; Ten thousands are devoured by men. An open foe may prove a curse, But a pretended friend is worse."
JOHN GAY
The Rat-catcher and Cats
The rats by night such mischief did, Betty was ev'ry morning chid. They undermin'd whole sides of bacon, Her cheese was sapp'd, her tarts were taken. Her pasties, fenc'd with thickest paste, Were all demolish'd, and laid waste. She curs'd the cat for want of duty, Who left her foes a constant booty. An Engineer, of noted skill, Engag'd to stop the growing ill. From room to room he now surveys Their haunts, their works, their secret ways; Finds where they 'scape an ambuscade. And whence the nightly sally's made. An envious Cat from place to place, Unseen, attends his silent pace. She saw, that if his trade went on, The purring race must be undone; So, secretly removes his baits, And ev'ry stratagem defeats. Again he sets the poisoned toils, And Puss again the labour foils. "What foe, to frustrate my designs, My schemes thus nightly countermines?" Incens'd, he cries: "This very hour This wretch shall bleed beneath my power." So said, a ponderous trap he brought, And in the fact poor Puss was caught. "Smuggler," says he, "thou shalt be made A victim to our loss of trade." The captive Cat, with piteous mews, For pardon, life, and freedom sues. "A sister of the science spare; One int'rest is our common care." "What insolence!" the man replies; "Shall Cats with us the game divide? Were all your interloping band Extinguished, or expell'd the land, We Rat-catchers might raise our fees. Sole guardians of a nation's cheese!" A Cat, who saw the lifted knife, Thus spoke and sav'd her sister's life. "In ev'ry age and clime we see Two of a trade can ne'er agree. Each hates his neighbour for encroaching; 'Squire stigmatizes 'squire for poaching; Beauties with beauties are in arms. And scandal pelts each other's charms; Kings too their neighbour kings dethrone, In hope to make the world their own. But let us limit our desires; Not war like beauties, kings, and 'squires! For though we both one prey pursue, There's game enough for us and you."
JOHN GAY
The Farmer's Wife and the Raven
Between her swaggering pannier's load A Farmer's Wife to market rode, And jogging on, with thoughtful care, Summed up the profits of her ware; When, starting from her silver dream, Thus far and wide was heard her scream: "That Raven on yon left-hand oak (Curse on his ill-betiding croak) Bodes me no good." No more she said, When poor blind Ball, with stumbling head, Fell prone; o'erturned the panniers lay, And her mashed eggs bestrewed the way. She, sprawling on the yellow road, Railed, cursed, and swore: "Thou croaking toad, A murrain take thy noisy throat! I knew misfortune in the note." "Dame," quoth the Raven, "spare your oaths, Unclench your fist and wipe your clothes. But why on me those curses thrown? Goody, the fault was all your own; For had you laid this brittle ware On Dun, the old sure-footed mare, Though all the Ravens of the hundred With croaking had your tongue out-thundered, Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs, And you, good woman, saved your eggs."
JOHN GAY
The Council of Horses
Upon a time, a neighing steed, Who grazed among a numerous breed, With mutiny had fired the train, And spread dissension through the plain. On matters that concerned the state The Council met in grand debate. A Colt, whose eyeballs flamed with ire, Elate with strength and youthful fire, In haste stepped forth before the rest, And thus the listening throng addressed:
"Good gods! how abject is our race, Condemned to slavery and disgrace! Shall we our servitude retain Because our sires have borne the chain? Consider, friends, your strength and might; 'Tis conquest to assert your right. How cumb'rous is the gilded coach! The pride of man is our reproach. Were we designed for daily toil; To drag the ploughshare through the soil; To sweat in harness through the road; To groan beneath the carrier's load? How feeble are the two-legged kind! What force is in our nerves combined! Shall, then, our nobler jaws submit To foam, and champ the galling bit? Shall haughty man my back bestride? Shall the sharp spur provoke my side? Forbid it, heavens! Reject the rein; Your shame, your infamy, disdain. Let him the lion first control, And still the tiger's famished growl; Let us, like them, our freedom claim, And make him tremble at our name."
A general nod approved the cause, And all the circle neighed applause, When, lo! with grave and solemn face, A Steed advanced before the race, With age and long experience wise; Around he cast his thoughtful eyes, And to the murmurs of the train Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain: "When I had health and strength like you, The toils of servitude I knew; Now grateful man rewards my pains, And gives me all these wide domains. At will I crop the year's increase; My latter life is rest and peace. I grant, to man we lend our pains, And aid him to correct the plains; But doth he not divide the care Through all the labours of the year? How many thousand structures rise To fence us from inclement skies! For us he bears the sultry day, And stores up all our winter's hay: He sows, he reaps the harvest's gain, We share the toil and share the grain. Since every creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need, Appease your discontented mind, And act the part by Heaven assigned." The tumult ceased. The colt submitted, And, like his ancestors, was bitted.
JOHN GAY
The Hare and Many Friends
Friendship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame; The child whom many fathers share Hath seldom known a father's care. 'Tis thus in friendships; who depend On many, rarely find a friend.
A Hare, who in a civil way Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood or graze the plain; Her care was never to offend, And every creature was her friend. As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles to mislead the Hound, And measures back her mazy round, Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay. What transport in her bosom grew When first the Horse appeared in view! "Let me," says she, "your back ascend. And owe my safety to a friend. You know my feet betray my flight; To friendship every burden's light," The Horse replied, "Poor honest Puss, It grieves my heart to see you thus: Be comforted, relief is near, For all your friends are in the rear." She next the stately Bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord: "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may without offence pretend To take the freedom of a friend. Love calls me hence; a fav'rite Cow Expects me near the barley-mow, And when a lady's in the case You know all other things give place. To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the Goat is just behind." The Goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye. "My back," says she, "may do you harm. The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm." The Sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: Said he was slow, confessed his fears; For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares. She now the trotting Calf addressed To save from death a friend distressed. "Shall I," says he, "of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler passed you by— How strong are those; how weak am I! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence; Excuse me, then; you know my heart, But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament! Adieu! For see, the Hounds are just in view."
JOHN GAY
The Nightingale and the Glowworm
A Nightingale, that all day long Had cheered the village with his song, Nor had at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended Began to feel, as well he might, The keen demands of appetite; When, looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something shining in the dark, And knew the Glowworm by his spark; So stepping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop. The Worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent: "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he, "As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wrong, As much as I to spoil your song; For, 'twas the self-same Power Divine Taught you to sing and me to shine; That you with music, I with light, Might beautify and cheer the night." The Songster heard his short oration, And warbling out his approbation. Released him, as my story tells, And found a supper somewhere else. Hence, jarring sectaries may learn Their real interest to discern, That brother should not war with brother, And worry and devour each other; But sing and shine by sweet consent, Until life's poor transient night is spent. Respecting in each other's case. The gifts of Nature and of Grace.
Those Christians best deserve the name Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies.
WILLIAM COWPER
The Raven
A Raven, while with glossy breast Her new-laid eggs she fondly pressed, And on her wickerwork high mounted, Her chickens prematurely counted, (A fault philosophers might blame If quite exempted from the same). Enjoyed at ease the genial day; 'Twas April, as the bumpkins say; The legislature called it May. But suddenly a wind, as high As ever swept a winter sky, Shook the young leaves about her ears And filled her with a thousand fears, Lest the rude blast should snap the bough, And spread her golden hopes below. But just at eve the blowing weather Changed, and her fears were hushed together: "And now," quoth poor unthinking Ralph,[1] "'Tis over, and the brood is safe." (For Ravens, though, as birds of omen, They teach both conjurers and old women To tell us what is to befall, Can't prophesy themselves at all.) The morning came, when Neighbour Hodge, Who long had marked her airy lodge, And destined all the treasure there A gift to his expecting fair, Climbed, like a squirrel to his dray, And bore the worthless prize away.
Moral
'Tis Providence alone secures, In every change, both mine and yours: Safety consists not in escape From dangers of a frightful shape; An earthquake may be bid to spare The man that's strangled by a hair. Fate steals along with silent tread Found oftenest in what least we dread, Frowns in the storm with angry brow, But in the sunshine strikes the blow.
WILLIAM COWPER
[1]Pronounced Rafe.
Pairing Time Anticipated
I shall not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau If birds confabulate or no; 'Tis clear that they were always able To hold discourse, at least in fable; And e'en the child who knows no better Than to interpret by the letter A story of a cock and bull Must have a most uncommon skull. It chanced then on a winter day, But warm and bright and calm as May, The Birds conceiving a design To forestall sweet Saint Valentine, In many an orchard, copse and grove, Assembled on affairs of love, And with much twitter, and much chatter, Began to agitate the matter. At length a Bullfinch, who could boast More years and wisdom than the most, Entreated, opening wide his beak, A moment's liberty to speak; And silence publicly enjoined, Delivered, briefly, thus his mind— "My friends! Be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet; I fear we shall have winter yet."
A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, With golden wing and satin poll, A last year's bird who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied: "Methinks the gentleman," quoth she, "Opposite in the appletree, By his good will would keep us single, Until yonder heavens and earth shall mingle, Or (which is likelier to befall) Until death exterminate us all. I marry without more ado, My dear Dick Redcap; what say you?"
Dick heard, and tweedling, ogling, bridling; With many a strut and many a sidling, Attested, glad, his approbation Of an immediate conjugation. Their sentiments so well expressed Influenced mightily the rest; All paired, and each pair built a nest.
But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast, And Destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smiled on theirs. The wind, of late breathed gently forth, Now shifted east and east by north; Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Could shelter them from rain or snow; Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chilled, their eggs were addled, Soon every father-bird and mother Grew quarrelsome and pecked each other, Parted without the least regret, Except that they had ever met, And learned in future to be wiser Than to neglect a good adviser.
WILLIAM COWPER
The Poet, the Oyster, and Sensitive Plant
An Oyster cast upon the shore Was heard, though never heard before, Complaining in a speech well worded, And worthy thus to be recorded: "Ah, hapless wretch comdemn'd to dwell Forever in my native shell, Ordain'd to move when others please, Not for my own content or ease, But toss'd and buffeted about, Now in the water, and now out. 'Twere better to be born a stone Of ruder shape and feeling none, Than with a tenderness like mine, And sensibilities so fine! I envy that unfeeling shrub, Fast rooted against every rub." The plant he meant grew not far off, And felt the sneer with scorn enough; Was hurt, disgusted, mortified, And with asperity replied. ("When," cry the botanists, and stare, "Did plants call'd Sensitive grow there?" No matter when—a poet's muse is To make them grow just where she chooses): "You shapeless nothing in a dish, You that are but almost a fish, I scorn your coarse insinuation, And have most plentiful occasion To wish myself the rock I view, Or such another dolt as you. For many a grave and learned clerk, And many a gay unlettered spark, With curious touch examines me If I can feel as well as he; And when I bend, retire, and shrink, Says, 'Well—'tis more than one would think.' Thus life is spent! oh fie upon't, In being touched, and crying—'Don't'!" A poet, in his evening walk, Overheard and checked this idle talk. "And your fine sense," he said, "and yours, Whatever evil it endures, Deserves not, if so soon offended, Much to be pitied or commended. Disputes, though short, are far too long, Where both alike are in the wrong; Your feelings in their full amount Are all upon your own account." "You, in your grotto-work enclosed, Complain of being thus exposed, Yet nothing feel in that rough coat, Save when the knife is at your throat. Wherever driven by wind or tide, Exempt from every ill beside." "And as for you, my Lady Squeamish, Who reckon every touch a blemish, If all the plants that can be found Embellishing the scene around, Should droop and wither where they grow, You would not feel at all, not you. The noblest minds their virtue prove By pity, sympathy, and love: These, these are feelings truly fine, And prove their owner half divine." His censure reached them as he dealt it. And each by shrinking show'd he felt it.
WILLIAM COWPER
The Pineapple and the Bee
The Pineapples, in triple row, Were basking hot, and all in blow. A Bee of most deserving taste Perceived the fragrance as he pass'd. On eager wing the spoiler came, And searched for crannies in the frame, Urged his attempt on every side, To every pane his trunk applied; But still in vain, the frame was tight, And only pervious to the light: Thus having wasted half the day, He trimm'd his flight another way.
* * * * *
Our dear delights are often such, Exposed to view, but not to touch; The sight our foolish heart inflames, We long for pineapples in frames; With hopeless wish one looks and lingers; One breaks the glass, and cuts his fingers; But they whom Truth and Wisdom lead, Can gather honey from a weed.
WILLIAM COWPER
Amelia and the Spider
The muslin torn, from tears of grief In vain Amelia sought relief; In sighs and plaints she passed the day, The tattered frock neglected lay: While busied at the weaving trade, A Spider heard the sighing maid, And kindly stopping in a trice, Thus offered (gratis) her advice: "Turn, little girl, behold in me A stimulus to industry; Compare your woes my dear, with mine, Then tell me who should most repine; This morning, ere you'd left your room, The chambermaid's relentless broom, In one sad moment that destroyed To build which thousands were employed. The shock was great, but as my life I saved in the relentless strife, I knew lamenting was in vain, So patient went to work again; By constant work a day or more My little mansion did restore. And if each tear which you have shed Had been a needleful of thread, If every sigh of sad despair Had been a stitch of proper care, Closed would have been the luckless rent, Nor thus the day have been misspent."
ANONYMOUS
The Goose and the Swans
A Goose, affected, empty, vain, The shrillest of the cackling train, With proud and elevated crest, Precedence claimed above the rest, Says she, "I laugh at human race, Who say Geese hobble in their pace; Look here—the slander base detect; Not haughty man is so erect. That Peacock yonder, see how vain The creature's of his gaudy train. If both were stripped, I'd pledge my word A Goose would be the finer bird. Nature, to hide her own defects, Her bungled work with finery decks. Were Geese set off with half that show, Would men admire the Peacock? No!" Thus vaunting, 'cross the mead she stalks, The cackling breed attend her walks; The sun shot down his noontide beams, The Swans were sporting in the streams. Their snowy plumes and stately pride Provoked her spleen. "Why, there," she cried, "Again, what arrogance we see! Those creatures, how they mimic me! Shall every fowl the waters skim Because we Geese are known to swim? Humility they soon shall learn, And their own emptiness discern." So saying, with extended wings, Lightly upon the wave she springs; Her bosom swells, she spreads her plumes, And the Swan's stately crest assumes. Contempt and mockery ensued, And bursts of laughter shook the flood. A Swan, superior to the rest, Sprung forth, and thus the fool addressed: "Conceited thing, elate with pride, Thy affectation all deride; These airs thy awkwardness impart, And show thee plainly as thou art. Among thy equals of the flock, Thou hadst escaped the public mock; And, as thy parts to good conduce, Been deemed an honest, hobbling Goose. Learn hence to study wisdom's rules; Know, foppery's the pride of fools; And, striving nature to conceal, You only her defects reveal."
ANONYMOUS
The Rats and the Cheese
If Bees a government maintain, Why may not Rats, of stronger brain And greater power, as well be thought By Machiavellian axioms taught? And so they are, for thus of late It happened in the Rats' free state. Their prince (his subjects more to please) Had got a mighty Cheshire Cheese, In which his ministers of state Might live in plenty and grow great. A powerful party straight combined, And their united forces joined To bring their measures into play, For none so loyal were as they; And none such patriots to support As well the country as the court. No sooner were those Dons admitted, But (all those wondrous virtues quitted) They all the speediest means devise To raise themselves and families. Another party well observing These pampered were, while they were starving, Their ministry brought in disgrace, Expelled them and supplied their place; These on just principles were known The true supporters of the throne. And for the subjects' liberty, They'd (marry, would they) freely die; But being well fixed in their station, Regardless of their prince and nation, Just like the others, all their skill Was how they might their paunches fill. On this a Rat not quite so blind In state intrigues as human kind, But of more honour, thus replied: "Confound ye all on either side; All your contentions are but these, Whose arts shall best secure the Cheese."
ANONYMOUS
The Drop of Rain
A little particle of rain That from a passing cloud descended: Was heard thus idly to complain: "My brief existence now is ended! Outcast alike of earth and sky, Useless to live, unknown to die!" It chanced to fall into the sea, And there an open shell received it; And after years how rich was he Who from its prison-house released it! The drop of rain had formed a gem To deck a monarch's diadem.
ANONYMOUS
The Lion and the Echo
A Lion bravest of the wood, Whose title undisputed stood, As o'er the wide domains he prowled, And in pursuit of booty growled, An Echo from a distant cave Re-growled articulately grave. His Majesty, surprised, began To think at first it was a man; But, on reflection sage, he found It was too like a lion's sound. "Whose voice is that which growls at mine?" His Highness asked. Says Echo, "Mine!" "Thine," says the Lion; "who art thou?" Echo as stern cried, "Who art thou?" "Know I'm a lion, hear and tremble!" Replied the king. Cried Echo, "Tremble!" "Come forth," says Lion, "show thyself!" Laconic Echo answered, "Elf!" "Elf dost thou call me, vile pretender?" Echo as loud replied, "Pretender?" At this, as jealous of his reign, He growled in rage—she growled again. Incensed the more, he chafed and foamed, And round the spacious forest roamed, To find the rival of his throne, Who durst with him dispute the crown. A Fox, who listened all the while, Addressed the monarch with a smile: "My liege, most humbly I make bold, Though truth may not be always told, That this same phantom that you hear, That so alarms your royal ear, Is not a rival of your throne— The voice and fears are all your own."
Imaginary terrors scare A timorous soul with real fear! Nay, e'en the wise and brave are cowed By apprehensions from the crowd;
A frog a lion may disarm, And yet how causeless the alarm!
ANONYMOUS
Here check we our career; Long books I greatly fear; I would not quite exhaust my stuff; The flower of subjects is enough.