Aesop, in Rhyme Part 19

To-morrow I my song renew; Not less my grat.i.tude to you: And care henceforward I will take, My chaunts your slumber do not break."

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THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER.

A man a palfrey long possess'd, A quiet, serviceable beast; Spavin'd, indeed, and somewhat blind, But still his way he well could find; And if he stumbled now and then, Was soon upon his feet again.

In short, for many a year, the pack Had borne him safely on his back.

Till riding out one fatal day, He overheard some c.o.xcombs say, "For such a man, 'tis quite a shame, To mount a horse old, blind, and lame."

"Aye," replied one, "I know a steed Would n.o.bly carry him indeed; Young, vigorous, beautiful, and sound; His like is nowhere to be found."

In evil hour an ear he lent, To view this boasted courser went: Unwary on his back he got, And tried to put him on a trot; He rear'd and plung'd, and leap'd about, Till from his seat he shook him out, Then kicking, pitch'd him o'er his head, And laid him on the pavement dead.

The vicious creature left at large, On all his fury would discharge; This from behind his heels surprise, Trod under foot, that sprawling lies: Another, who would seize the reins, Is bit and mangled for his pains.

But want of nourishment and rest Will tame at last the fiercest beast; And rage itself suspends its course, Exhausted by its proper force.

Light'ning no more his eyes inspire, No more his nostrils snorted fire; At bay he stood, fatigu'd and lank, With flagging ears, and beating flank.

An active jockey, stout and able, Contracts to bring him to the stable; Soothes, and his neck begins to pat, And the corn rattles in his hat; By hunger drawn, repell'd by fear, The courser neighs, retires, comes near; Lur'd with the smell, begins to eat.

The jockey vaulted in the seat: With vigorous hand the bridle plied, And stuck the rowels in his side.

Some bounds and curvets still he made, But soon submissively obey'd.

The horseman who such skill had shown, Resolv'd to keep him for his own: Aware that constant work alone Can keep this wicked spirit down He night and day is on his back, To lead him to some new attack, No road is safe, nor far nor near, This highwayman is every where.

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THE GOOD MINISTER.

An honest minister disgrac'd, (Such are not easily replac'd,) Found the sweet leisure in his fields, To virtuous minds retirement yields.

The king, who had his foes believ'd, The loss of him ere long perceiv'd.

To bring him back again intent, To his retreat alone he went: "My friend, you must return with me,"

He said, "your value now I see."

"Forgive me," the Recluse replied; "Here I determine to abide.

By sad experience well I know, Were I to court again to go, And all my best endeavors do, To serve my country, sir, and you, Art and intrigue so much prevail, Again I certainly should fail; Against your will and approbation, And the good wishes of the nation, You'd find yourself compell'd to yield, And I once more must quit the field."

The honest man, who will not bend To circ.u.mstance, or condescend To pay his court to knave or fool, Will never long a nation rule.

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THE SWAN AND THE COOK.

A man once had a swan and goose Among his birds and beasts.

The one was destined for a pet, The other for a feast.

Sometimes you saw them sailing Gracefully on the current, side by side, Sometimes they played a game of tag, Or plunged into the tide.

One day the master ordered The cook to kill the goose, And roast it for his dinner; It was fat and fit for use.

But the cook had taken a drop too much, And it had gone to his head; So when he went out for the goose He took the swan instead.

He seized the swan fast by the throat, And would have kill'd it soon: But the bird saw he was to die, And he his throat did tune, And warbled out his farewell lay.

The cook straight dropped his knife In great surprise, "what! what!" cried he, "Shall I take the life Of a musical bird like this?

No, no! it must not be.

So to the garden he shall go back And ne'er be kill'd by me."

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THE LYNX AND THE MOLE.

A lynx once met by chance a mole, Just emerging from his hole.

The lynx with penetrating eye The beauties of the place did spy, And asked the mole to take a share In the fine prospect, rich and rare.

"I've seldom found so good a place.

From this small hill you see a s.p.a.ce Extended far beneath your view, I like it much; pray do not you?

See now the sun begins to rise, And with crimson tints the skies.

It spreads all round its genial heat, And nature now enjoys a treat."

"Well, well!" the mole aloud did cry "You may see this and more, but I Can only now before me see, A very heavy mist." "Truly, Now," said the lynx, "I clearly see The difference 'twixt you and me.

My eyes see with perception bright While your's are always dark as night.

Go to your hold beneath the ground, While I will range the forest round."

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THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.

A young mouse of little experience, Thought to soften an old cat, And besought her clemency, By asking for his life at her expense.

Said he, "A mouse, or e'en a rat, Is not a great charge on the house; And I shall not starve out the host.

Besides I seldom quit my post, And when I do a grain of corn Has served me since I first was born.

Now I am thin, pray let me be, I'll serve your children yet, you'll see."

Thus to the cat spoke the poor mouse.

The other answered, "You mistake, When unto me this tone you take; You might as well talk to the deaf, As to so old a cat as I, And through your tricks I spy, Die! you can go and chatter to the fates, My children will be fed on better cates."