The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase Part 22

_50 'Were you no more with goats to dwell, Brother, I grant you reason well,'

Replies a bearded chief. 'Beside, If boys can mortify thy pride, How wilt thou stand the ridicule Of our whole flock? Affected fool!

c.o.xcombs, distinguished from the rest, To all but c.o.xcombs are a jest.'

FABLE XXIII.

THE OLD WOMAN AND HER CATS.

Who friendship with a knave hath made, Is judged a partner in the trade.

The matron who conducts abroad A willing nymph, is thought a bawd; And if a modest girl is seen With one who cures a lover's spleen, We guess her not extremely nice, And only wish to know her price.

'Tis thus that on the choice of friends Our good or evil name depends.

_10 A wrinkled hag, of wicked fame, Beside a little smoky flame Sate hovering, pinched with age and frost; Her shrivelled hands, with veins embossed, Upon her knees her weight sustains, While palsy shook her crazy brains: She mumbles forth her backward prayers, An untamed scold of fourscore years.

About her swarmed a numerous brood Of cats, who, lank with hunger, mewed.

_20 Teased with their cries, her choler grew, And thus she sputtered: 'Hence, ye crew.

Fool that I was, to entertain Such imps, such fiends, a h.e.l.lish train!

Had ye been never housed and nursed, I, for a witch had ne'er been cursed.

To you I owe, that crowds of boys Worry me with eternal noise; Straws laid across, my pace r.e.t.a.r.d, The horse-shoe's nailed (each threshold's guard), _30 The stunted broom the wenches hide, For fear that I should up and ride; They stick with pins my bleeding seat, And bid me show my secret teat.'

'To hear you prate would vex a saint; Who hath most reason of complaint?'

Replies a cat. 'Let's come to proof.

Had we ne'er starved beneath your roof, We had, like others of our race, In credit lived as beasts of chase.

_40 'Tis infamy to serve a hag; Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag; And boys against our lives combine, Because, 'tis said, you cats have nine.'

FABLE XXIV.

THE b.u.t.tERFLY AND THE SNAIL.

All upstarts insolent in place, Remind us of their vulgar race.

As, in the sunshine of the morn, A b.u.t.terfly (but newly born) Sat proudly perking on a rose; With pert conceit his bosom glows; His wings (all-glorious to behold) Bedropp'd with azure, jet, and gold, Wide he displays; the spangled dew Reflects his eyes, and various hue.

_10 His now-forgotten friend, a snail, Beneath his house, with slimy trail Crawls o'er the gra.s.s; whom when he spies, In wrath he to the gard'ner cries: 'What means yon peasant's daily toil, From choking weeds to rid the soil?

Why wake you to the morning's care, Why with new arts correct the year, Why glows the peach with crimson hue, And why the plum's inviting blue; _20 Were they to feast his taste design'd, That vermin of voracious kind?

Crush then the slow, the pilfering race; So purge thy garden from disgrace.'

'What arrogance!' the snail replied; 'How insolent is upstart pride!

Hadst thou not thus with insult vain, Provoked my patience to complain, I had concealed thy meaner birth, Nor traced thee to the sc.u.m of earth.

_30 For scarce nine suns have waked the hours, To swell the fruit, and paint the flowers, Since I thy humbler life surveyed, In base, in sordid guise arrayed; A hideous insect, vile, unclean, You dragged a slow and noisome train; And from your spider-bowels drew Foul film, and spun the dirty clew.

I own my humble life, good friend; Snail was I born, and snail shall end.

_40 And what's a b.u.t.terfly? At best, He's but a caterpillar, dress'd; And all thy race (a numerous seed) Shall prove of caterpillar breed.'

FABLE XXV.

THE SCOLD AND THE PARROT.

The husband thus reproved his wife: 'Who deals in slander, lives in strife.

Art thou the herald of disgrace, Denouncing war to all thy race?

Can nothing quell thy thunder's rage, Which spares no friend, nor s.e.x, nor age?

That vixen tongue of yours, my dear, Alarms our neighbours far and near.

Good G.o.ds! 'tis like a rolling river, That murmuring flows, and flows for ever!

_10 Ne'er tired, perpetual discord sowing!

Like fame, it gathers strength by going.'

'Heyday!' the flippant tongue replies, How solemn is the fool, how wise!

Is nature's choicest gift debarred?

Nay, frown not; for I will be heard.

Women of late are finely ridden, A parrot's privilege forbidden!

You praise his talk, his squalling song; But wives are always in the wrong.'

_20 Now reputations flew in pieces, Of mothers, daughters, aunts, and nieces.

She ran the parrot's language o'er, Bawd, hussy, drunkard, slattern, wh.o.r.e; On all the s.e.x she vents her fury, Tries and condemns without a jury.

At once the torrent of her words Alarmed cat, monkey, dogs, and birds: All join their forces to confound her; Puss spits, the monkey chatters round her; _30 The yelping cur her heels a.s.saults; The magpie blabs out all her faults; Poll, in the uproar, from his cage, With this rebuke out-screamed her rage: 'A parrot is for talking prized, But prattling women are despised.

She who attacks another's honour, Draws every living thing upon her.

Think, madam, when you stretch your lungs, That all your neighbours too have tongues.

_40 One slander must ten thousand get, The world with interest pays the debt.'

FABLE XXVI.

THE CUR AND THE MASTIFF.

A sneaking cur, the master's spy, Rewarded for his daily lie, With secret jealousies and fears Set all together by the ears.

Poor puss to-day was in disgrace, Another cat supplied her place; The hound was beat, the mastiff chid, The monkey was the room forbid; Each to his dearest friend grew shy, And none could tell the reason why.

_10 A plan to rob the house was laid, The thief with love seduced the maid; Cajoled the cur, and stroked his head, And bought his secrecy with bread.

He next the mastiff's honour tried, Whose honest jaws the bribe defied.

He stretched his hand to proffer more; The surly dog his fingers tore.

Swift ran the cur; with indignation The master took his information.

_20 'Hang him, the villain's cursed,' he cries; And round his neck the halter ties.

The dog his humble suit preferred, And begged in justice to be heard.

The master sat. On either hand The cited dogs confronting stand; The cur the b.l.o.o.d.y tale relates, And, like a lawyer, aggravates.

'Judge not unheard,' the mastiff cried, 'But weigh the cause on either side.

_30 Think not that treachery can be just, Take not informers' words on trust.

They ope their hand to every pay, And you and me by turns betray.'

He spoke. And all the truth appeared, The cur was hanged, the mastiff cleared.

FABLE XXVII.

THE SICK MAN AND THE ANGEL.

'Is there no hope?' the sick man said.

The silent doctor shook his head, And took his leave with signs of sorrow, Despairing of his fee to-morrow.

When thus the man with gasping breath; 'I feel the chilling wound of death: Since I must bid the world adieu, Let me my former life review.