Aesop Dress'd; Or a collection of Fables Part 6

His Friend the Black-bird says, if so, } Make haste to Court; why don't you go? } The haughty Bird cries truly No, } Glory's a thing I never went for, Nor shall go now unless I am sent for.

At last the King by Mistress Fame, 'S acquainted with his Skill and Name, And hearing of his Stateliness Sends half a dozen Deputies; Who, when they're come, are forced to wait: The Bird makes every thing look great; He humbly thanks his Majesty; But could not leave his Family.

They still persuade and press him hard, He need not doubt of a great Reward.

And as the Nightingale delays, And banters 'em for several Days; A Magpye in the Field at play Heard how he made the Courtiers stay, Goes home and there relates the Story, The Message, and the Bird's Vain glory, T' an Owl, who from his Infancy Had liv'd in the same Family; And adds, why don't you take a Flight?

I've often heard you sing at Night; When wak'd by our unlucky Boys.

Says the Owl, I know I have no Voice As well as you: But if you hear me, Young Jackanaps you need not jeer me.

By _George_, says Mag, I'm not in jest, What though the Nightingale sings best, He is so proud, takes so much state, A thing I know all Princes hate, That if y'are there before the other, Who wants such Courts.h.i.+p, keeps such pother, I don't know but your solemn Face, And modest Mein may get the place.

I'll go my self for Company: } And Mag discoursed so winingly, } The Match is made away they fly. } The King by this time thought it long To stay for a Nocturnal Song When Master Magpy, and his Friend, Were just come to their Journy's end.

They told their Business modestly, And are lodg'd on the Royal Tree.

The Owl sets up his Note at Night, At which the Eagle laugh'd out right, Then went to sleep and two Hours after He wak'd, and wanted to make Water.

Call'd to his Watch, who presently Jump'd in, and cry'd Sir, Here am I.

So, tho his Owls.h.i.+p could not sing, His watchfulness had pleas'd the King.

Next day arrives the Nightingale, With his Attendance at his Tail.

His Majesty would by no Means } Admit him to an Audience; } But sends a stately Bird of Sence, } Who thus accosted him. Signior, Whom we so long have waited for; Since Yesterday a Bird came hither, As grave as ever wore a Feather, Who without promise of Reward Last Night has serv'd upon the Guard, With him to Morrow Night the King Has order'd you to watch and sing, Says Nightingale, what do I care For Orders? I am free, and swear My Master-lays shall mix with none, They make a Consort of their own: But who has so much vanity, That dares pretend to sing with me?

And hearing twas th' _Athenian_ Bird, He star'd and cou'd not speak a Word, Grew pale, and swell'd, his Wind came short, And Anger overwhelm'd his Heart.

He foams at Mouth, and raves, and bl.u.s.ters, And utters all his Words in Cl.u.s.ters.

A King! a Devil, stupid Fowl, That can compare me to an Owl!

Pray says the Courtier, have a Care, Consider in what place you are; But, as the Fool would hear no Reason, He went, and left him sputt'ring Treason, Then told what happen'd to the King, Who said he'd never hear him sing; The Owl should be kept in his Place, And th' other punish'd with Disgrace; He wisely weigh'd one's Complaisance Against the other's Insolence, Oppos'd the Humble to the Rude, And thought the one might do more Good, With Loyalty and Diligence, Than th' other with his Skill and Sence.

The Nightingale is kick'd from Court And serv'd the little Birds for sport; Till full of Shame and Grief he went, And curs'd the King and Government.

The Moral.

_Princes can never satisfy That Worth that rates itself too high.

What Pity it is! some Men of Parts Should have such haughty stubborn Hearts: When once they are courted they grow vain: Ambitious Souls cannot contain Their Joy, which when they strive to hide, They cover it with so much Pride, So Saucy to Superiors, Impatient of Compet.i.tors, Th' are utterly untractable, And put off like our Nightingale.

Many with him might have been great, Promoted Friends, and serv'd the State, That have beheld, with too much Joy, The wish'd for Opportunity; Then slipt it by their own Delays, Sloth, Pride, or other willful Ways, And ever after strove in vain To see the Forelock once again._

_Council held by the Rats._

A Cat, whose Sirname pretty hard was, One Captain _Felis Rodilardus_ Had made so terrible a slaughter Among the Rats; that little after There's hardly one to shew his head, Most part of 'em were maim'd or dead.

The few that yet had 'scap'd the Grave, Liv'd in a subterranean Cave, Where they sat thinking mighty dull, With Bellies less than quarter full, Not daring to stir out for fear Of _Rodilard_, who's ev'ry where.

They tried a hundred ways to sun him: But finding they could never shun him, The Wretches look upon him, that He's more a Devil than a Cat.

Once, when our am'rous Spark was gone A hunting Wenches up and down, The poor remainder to improve The time their Enemy made love, a.s.sembl'd, and employ'd their Cares About the straits of their Affairs.

Their President, a Man of Sence, Told 'em, by long experience; I know, the Captain used to come In Ambush without beat of Drum.

Methinks, that if we could but hear him We need not half so much to fear him: And therefore, th' only way's to take A Bell, and tie't about his Neck; And then let him be ne'er so arch He'll advertise us of his march.

His Council took, and every one } Was of the same Opinion; } Sure nothing better could be done. } But pray, says one, who is to tie it; For I desire not to be nigh it.

How! cries another, tie the Bell, I dare draw all his Teeth as well.

A third, a fourth, all say the same, And so they parted as they came.

The Moral.

_Thus Cits advise what's to be done, This way they should attack the Town; Now here, then there, why don't they come?

So, often in a Coffee-room, Where prudently they rule the Nation, I've heard some Men of Reputation Propose things which they dare as well Perform, as Rats to tie the Bell._

_The Bat and the two Weasels._

A Purblind Bat a heedless Beast Ran headlong into a Weasel's Nest, Who big with Child, and Pa.s.sionate, Had long since bore a mortal hate To Mice; she rises, takes a Knife, Runs to 'm resolv'd to have his Life, And says: What Rascal in my House!

O impudence! a'nt you a Mouse?

Confess: Yes, I am sure you are, Or I'm no Weasel: Have a Care, No Names, good Lady, says the Bat, No more a Mouse, than you a Rat.

What, I a Mouse? I scorn the Word; And thank the G.o.ds that made m' a Bird; Witness my Wings, they're proof enough; Long live the Birds, and so came off.

Some two Days after giddy brain By a mischance, intrudes again T' another Weasel's, who hates Birds, She lets him enter, made no Words; But fairly caught him by his Crupper, And went to cranch him for her Supper.

In quality of Bird, says he, Madam, this is an Injury, d.a.m.n all the Birds, I do Protest You wrong me: Sure y'are but in jest, What reason I should pa.s.s for one?

All Birds have Feathers, I have none.

I am a Mouse long live the Rats, And _Jupiter_ confound the Cats.

The Moral.

_The Trimmer that will side with none, Is forc'd to side with ev'ry one; And with his Comp'ny change his story, Long live the Whig, long live the Tory._

_The two b.i.t.c.hes._

A b.i.t.c.h, who hardly had a day To reckon, knew not where to lay Her Burthen down: She had no Bed; Nor any Roof to hide her Head; Desires a b.i.t.c.h of the same Pack, To let her have, for Heaven's sake, Her House against her Lying-in.

Th' other, who thought it was a Sin, To baulk a Wretch so near her Labour, Says, Yes, 'tis at your Service, Neighbour.

She stays the Month out, and above, And then desires her to remove: But th' other tells her, there's yet none Of all my Whelps can walk alone, Have patience but one Fortnight longer.

I hope by that time they'll be stronger.

She grants it, and when that's about, Again she asks her to turn out; Resign her Chamber, and her Bed: The other shew'd her Teeth, and said, My Children now are strong enough, Some of 'em able to stand buff.

W' are free to go, but don't mistake us, That is to say, if you can make us.

The Moral.

_Whoever lets the Wicked in Shall hardly get them out again; What they can keep, they'll ne'er restore, And by fair Means you'll have no more Returns from them, than from the Grave, Therefore he that will lend a Knave, Must be resolv'd on Law and Force; If not, he'll bid you take your Course._

_The Sick Lyon and the Fox._

The King of Brutes sent all about, He was afflicted with the Gout; And orders ev'ry Species To visit him by Emba.s.sies.

To see his Subject Beasts would be Some Comfort to him in his Misery: He swears them faithfully, they shall Be lodg'd, and treated very well.

Then for a Safeguard, sends forsooth, Pa.s.ses against his Claw and Tooth.

His Va.s.sals in obedience come, } And ev'ry Species sends him some. } Only the Foxes stay at home; } Their Reason was, they saw the Print Of ev'ry beastly Foot, that went: But found no Marks, by which, 'twas plain, That any e'er came back again: And truly that's suspicious, Says one, poor Folks are timerous.

We know the King would not abuse us; But yet desire him to excuse us.

As for his Pa.s.s we thank him for't, And believe 'tis good. But in his Court We know, which way we may go in, But not, which to come back again.