Book 2

THE way of writing Esop chose,

Sound doctrine by example shows;

For nothing by these tales is meant

So much as that the bad repent;

And by the pattern that is set,

Due diligence itself should whet.

Wherefore, whatever arch conceit

You in our narratives shall meet

(If with the critic's ear it take,

And for some special purpose make),

Aspires by real use to fame,

Rather than from an author's name.

In fact, with all the care I can,

I shall abide my Esop 's plan:

But if at times I intersperse

My own materials in the verse,

That sweet variety may please

The fancy, and attention ease;

Receive it in a friendly way;

Which grace I purpose to repay

By this consciousness of my song;

Whose praises, lest they be too long,

Attend, why you should stint the sneak,

But give the modest, ere they seek.

A Lion on the carcass stood

Of a young heifer in the wood;

A robber that was passing there,

Came up, and ask'd him for a share.

"A share," says he, "you should receive,

But that you seldom ask our leave

For things so handily removed."

At which the ruffian was reproved.

It happen'd that the selfsame day

A modest pilgrim came that way,

And when he saw the Lion, fled:

Says he, " There is no cause of dread,

In gentle tone-take you the chine,

Which to your merit I assign."-

Then having parted what he slew,

To favour his approach withdrew.

A great example, worthy praise,

But not much copied now-a-days!

For churls have coffers that o'erflow,

And sheepish worth is poor and low.

Fondling or fondled-any how-

(Examples of all times allow)

That men by women must be fleeced.

A dame, whose years were well increased,

But skill'd t' affect a youthful mien,

Was a staid husband's empress queen;

Who yet sequestered halt his heart

For a young damsel, brisk and smart.

They, while each wanted to attach

Themselves to him, and seem his match,

Began to tamper with his hair.

He, pleased with their officious care,

Was on a sudden made a coot;

For the young strumpet, branch and root,

Stripp'd of the hoary hairs his crown,

E'en as th' old cat grubb'd up the brown.

Torn by a Cur, a man was led

To throw the snappish thief some bread

Dipt in the blood, which, he was told,

Had been a remedy of old.

Then Esop thus: - "Forbear to show

A pack of dogs the thing you do,

Lest they should soon devour us quite,

When thus rewarded as they bite."

One wicked miscreant's success

Makes many more the trade profess.

An Eagle built upon an oak

A Cat and kittens had bespoke

A hole about the middle bough;

And underneath a woodland Sow

Had placed her pigs upon the ground.

Then treacherous Puss a method found

To overthrow, for her own good,

The peace of this chance neighbourhood

First to the Eagle she ascends-

" Perdition on your head impends,

And, far too probable, on mine;

For you observe that grubbing Swine

Still works the tree to overset,

Us and our young with ease to get."

Thus having filled the Eagle's pate

With consternation very great,

Down creeps she to the Sow below;

" The Eagle is your deadly foe,

And is determined not to spare

Your pigs, when you shall take the air.

Here too a terror being spread,

By what this tattling gossip said,

She slily to her kittens stole,

And rested snug within her hole.

Sneaking from thence with silent treai

By night her family she fed,

But look'd out sharply all the day,

Affecting terror and dismay.

The Eagle lest the tree should fall,

Keeps to the boughs, nor stirs at all;

And anxious for her grunting race,

The Sow is loth to quit her place.

In short, they and their young ones starve

And leave a prey for Puss to carve.

Hence warn'd ye credulous and young,

Be cautious of a double tongue.

There is in town a certain set

Of mortals, ever in a sweat,

Who idly bustling here and there,

Have never any time to spare,

While upon nothing they discuss

With heat, and most outrageous fuss,

Plague to themselves, and to the rest

A most intolerable pest.

I will correct this stupid clan

Of busy-bodies, if I can,

By a true story; lend an ear,

'Tis worth a trifler's time to hear.

Tiberius Caesar, in his way

To Naples, on a certain day

Came to his own Misenian seat,

(Of old Lucullus's retreat,)

Which from the mountain top surveys

Two seas, by looking different ways.

Here a shrewd slave began to cringe

With dapper coat and sash of fringe,

And, as his master walk'd between

The trees upon the tufted green,

Finding the weather very hot,

Officiates with his wat'ring-pot;

And still attending through the glade,

Is ostentatious of his aid.

Caesar turns to another row,

Where neither sun nor rain could go;

He, for the nearest cut he knows,

Is still before with pot and rose.

Caesar observes him twist and shift,

And understands the fellow's drift;

" Here, you sir," says th' imperial lord

The bustler, hoping a reward,

Runs skipping up. The chief in jest

Thus the poor jackanapes address'd

"As here is no great matter done,

Small is the premium you have won:

The cuffs that make a servant free,

Are for a better man than thee."

No soul can warrant life or right,

Secure from men of lawless might;

But if a knave's advice assist,

'Gainst fraud and force what can exist?

An Eagle on a Tortoise fell,

And mounting bore him by the shell:

She with her house her body screens,

Nor can be hurt by any means.

A Carrion Crow came by that way,

" You've got," says she, " a luscious prey;

But soon its weight will make you rue,

Unless I show you what to do."

The captor promising a share,

She bids her from the upper air

To dash the shell against a rock,

Which would be sever'd by the shock.

The Eagle follows her behest,

Then feasts on turtle with his guest.

Thus she, whom Nature made so strong,

And safe against external wrong,

No match for force, and its allies,

To cruel death a victim dies.

Two laden Mules were on the road-

A charge of money was bestowed

Upon the one, the other bore

Some sacks of barley. He before.

Proud of his freight, begun to swell,

Stretch'd out his neck, and shook his bell

The poor one, with an easy pace,

Came on behind a little space,

When on a sudden, from the wood

A gang of thieves before them stood;

And, while the muleteers engage,

Wound the poor creature in their rage

Eager they seize the golden prize,

But the vile barley-bags despise.

The plunder'd mule was all forlorn,

The other thank'd them for their scorn:

" 'Tis now my turn the head to toss,

Sustaining neither wound nor loss."

The low estate's from peril clear,

But wealthy men have much to fear.

A Stag unharbour'd by the hounds

Forth from his woodland covert bounds,

And blind with terror, at th' alarm

Of death, makes to a neighboring farm;

There snug conceals him in some straw,

Which in an ox's stall he saw.

"Wretch that thou art!" a bullock cried,

"That com'st within this place to hide;

By trusting man you are undone,

And into sure destruction run."

But he with suppliant voice replies:

" Do you but wink with both your eyes,

I soon shall my occasions shape,

To make from hence a fair escape."

The day is spent, the night succeeds,

The herdsman comes, the cattle feeds,

But nothing sees-then to and fro

Time after time the servants go;

Yet not a soul perceives the case.

The steward passes by the place,

Himself no wiser than the rest.

The joyful Stag his thanks addressed

To all the Oxen, that he there

Had found a refuge in despair.

"We wish you well," an Ox returned,

"But for your life are still concern'd,

For if old Argus come, no doubt,

His hundred eyes will find you out."

Scarce had the speaker made an end,

When from the supper of a friend

The master enters at the door,

And, seeing that the steers were poor

Of late, advances to the rack.

"Why were the fellow's hands so slack?

Here's hardly any straw at all,

Brush down those cobwebs from the wall

Pray how much labour would it ask?"

While thus he undertakes the task,

To dust, and rummage by degrees,

The Stag's exalted horns he sees:

Then calling all his folks around,

He lays him breathless on the ground.

The master, as the tale declares,

Looks sharpest to his own affairs

A STATUE of great cost and fame

Th' Athenians raised to Esop 's name,

Him setting on th' the eternal base,

Whom servile rank could not disgrace;

That they might teach to all makind

The way to honor's unconfined,

That glory's due to rising worth,

And not alone to pomp and birth.

Since then another seized the post

Lest I priority should boast,

This pow'r and praise was yet my own,

That he should not excel alone:

Nor is this Envy's jealous ire,

But Emulation's genuine fire.

And if Rome should approve my piece,

She'll soon have more to rival Greece.

But should th' invidious town declare

Against my plodding over-care,

They cannot take away, nor hurt

Th' internal conscience of desert.

If these my studies reach their aim,

And, reader, your attention claim,

If your perception fully weighs

The drift of these my labour'd lays;

Then such success precludes complaint.

But if the Picture which I paint

Should happen to attract their sight,

Whom luckless Nature brought to light,

Who scorn the labours of a man,

And when they carp do all they can;

Yet must this fatal cause to mourn

With all its bitterness be borne,

Till fortune be ashamed of days,

When genius fails, and int'rest sways.