To Aristotle's greater name
The Macedonian ow'd his fame.
Th' Athenian bird, with pride replete,
Their talents equall'd in conceit;
And, copying the Socratic rule,
Set up for master of a school.
Dogmatic jargon learn'd by heart,
Trite sentences, hard terms of art,
To vulgar ears seem'd so profound,
They fancy'd learning in the sound.
The school had fame: the crowded place
With pupils swarm'd of ev'ry race.
With these the Swan's maternal care
Had sent her scarce-fledg'd cygnet heir.
The Hen, though fond aud loth to part,
Here lodg'd the darling of her heart.
The Spider, of mechanic kind,
Aspir'd to science more refin'd.
The Ass learn'd metaphors and tropes,
But most on music fix'd his hopes.
The pupils now, advanc'd in age,
Were call'd to tread life's busy stage;
And to the master 'twas submitted,
That each might to his part be fitted.
The Swan, says he, in arms shall shine;
The soldier's glorious toil be thine.
The Cock shall mighty wealth attain; Go, seek it on the stormy main!
The Court shall be the Spider's sphere Pow'r, fortune, shall reward him there. In music's art the Ass's fame Shall emulate Corelli's name.
Each took the part that he advis'd,
And all were equally despis'd.
A Farmer, at his folly mov'd,
The dull preceptor thus reprov'd:-
Blockhead! says he, by what you've done,
One would have thought 'em each your son;
For parents, to their offspring blind,
Consult not parts, nor turn of mind;
But, ev'n in infancy, decree
What this, what t'other son should be.
Had you with judgment weigh'd the case,
Their genius thus had fix'd their place :-
The Swan had learn'd the sailor's art;
The Cock had play'd the soldier's part;
The Spider, in the weaver's trade,
With credit had a fortune made;
But for the fool, in ev'ry class
The blockhead had appear'd an Ass.
The Cook-maid, the Turnspit, and the Ox.
CONSIDER man in ev'ry sphere, Then tell me, is your lot severe ? "Tis murmur, discontent, distrust, That makes you wretched. God is just! I grant that hunger must be fed; That toil, too, earns thy daily bread.
What then? Thy wants are seen and known,
But ev'ry mortal feels his own.
We're born a restless, needy crew :-
Shew me the happier man than you.
Adam, though blest above his kind,
For want of social woman pin'd.
Eve's wants the subtile serpent saw;
Her fickle taste transgress'd the law.
Thus fell our sires; and their disgrace
The curse entail'd on human race.
When Philip's son, by glory led,
Had o'er the globe his empire spread;
When altars to his name were dress'd,
That he was man, his tears confess'd.
The hopes of avarice are checkt:
The proud man always wants respect.
What various wants on pow'r attend!
Ambition never gains its end.
Who hath not heard the rich complain
Of surfeits and corporeal pain?
He, barr'd from ev'ry use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health.
Another in a beauteous wife
Finds all the miseries of life;
Domestic jars and jealous fear
Imbitter all his days with care.
This wants an heir-the line is lost:
Why was that vain entail engrost?
Can'st thou discern another's mind?
Why is't you envy? Envy's blind.
Tell Envy, when she would annoy,
That thousands want what you enjoy.
The dinner must be dish'd at one.
Where's this vexatious Turnspit gone?
Unless the skulking Cur is caught,
The sirloin's spoil'd, and I'm in fault.
Thus said (for sure you'll think it fit
That I the Cook-maid's oaths omit),
With all the fury of a Cook,
Her cooler kitchen Nan forsook.
The broomstick o'er her head she waves;
She sweats, she stamps, she puffs, she raves.
The sneaking Cur before her flies:
She whistles, calls; fair speech she tries.
These nought avail. Her choler burns:
The fist and cudgel threat by turns.
With hasty stride she presses near;
He slinks aloof, and howls with fear.
Was ever Cur so curst! he cry'd;
What star did at my birth preside?
Am I for life by compact beund
To tread the wheel's eternal round?
Inglorious task! Of all our race
No slave is half so mean and base.
Had fate a kinder lot assign'd,
And form'd me of the lap-dog kind,
I then, in higher life employ'd,
Had indolence and ease enjoy'd;
And, like a gentleman, carest,
Had been the lady's fav'rite guest.
Or, were I sprung from spaniel line,
Was his sagacious nostril mine,
By me, their never-erring guide,
From wood and plain their feast supply'd,
Knights, 'squires, attendant on my pace,
Had shar'd the pleasures of the chace.
Endu'd with native strength and fire,
Why call I not the lion, sire?
A lion-such mean views I scorn.
Why was I not of woman born?
Who dares with Reason's pow'r contend
On man we brutal slaves depend:
To him all creatures tribute pay
And luxury employs his day.
An Ox by chance o'erheard his moan, And thus rebuk'd the lazy drone :
Dare you at partial Fate repine?
How kind's your lot compar'd with mine!
Decreed to toil, the barb'rous knife
Hath sever'd me from social life?
Urg'd by the stimulating goad,
I drag the cumbrous waggon's load:
"Tis mine to tame the stubborn plain,
Break the stiff soil, and house the grain:
Yet I without a murmur bear
The various labours of the year.
But then consider, that one day
(Perhaps the hour's not far away)
You, by the duties of your post,
Shall turn the spit when I'm the roast;
And, for reward, shall share the feast-
I mean, shall pick my bones at least!
Till now, th' astonish'd Cur replies,
I look'd on all with envious eyes.
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