The Poetical Works of Beattie, Blair, and Falconer Part 27

THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS.

A FABLE.

(WRITTEN IN 1757, AND FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1766.)

Laws, as we read in ancient sages, Have been like cobwebs in all ages: Cobwebs for little flies are spread, And laws for little folks are made; But if an insect of renown, Hornet or beetle, wasp or drone, Be caught in quest of sport or plunder, The flimsy fetter flies in sunder.

Your simile perhaps may please one With whom wit holds the place of reason: 10 But can you prove that this in fact is Agreeable to life and practice?

Then hear, what in his simple way Old aesop told me t' other day.

In days of yore, but (which is very odd) Our author mentions not the period, We mortal men, less given to speeches, Allow'd the beasts sometimes to teach us.

But now we all are prattlers grown, And suffer no voice but our own; 20 With us no beast has leave to speak, Although his honest heart should break.

'Tis true, your a.s.ses and your apes, And other brutes in human shapes, And that thing made of sound and show, Which mortals have misnamed a beau, (But in the language of the sky Is call'd a two-legg'd b.u.t.terfly), Will make your very heartstrings ache With loud and everlasting clack, 30 And beat your auditory drum, Till you grow deaf, or they grow dumb.

But to our story we return: 'Twas early on a Summer morn, A Wolf forsook the mountain den, And issued hungry on the plain.

Full many a stream and lawn he past And reach'd a winding vale at last; Where from a hollow rock he spied The shepherds drest in flowery pride. 40 Garlands were strew'd, and all was gay, To celebrate a holiday.

The merry tabor's gamesome sound Provoked the sprightly dance around.

Hard by a rural board was rear'd, On which in fair array appear'd The peach, the apple, and the raisin, And all the fruitage of the season.

But, more distinguish'd than the rest, Was seen a wether ready drest, 50 That smoking, recent from the flame, Diffused a stomach-rousing steam.

Our Wolf could not endure the sight, Courageous grew his appet.i.te: His entrails groan'd with tenfold pain, He lick'd his lips, and lick'd again: At last, with lightning in his eyes, He bounces forth, and fiercely cries: "Shepherds, I am not given to scolding, But now my spleen I cannot hold in. 60 By Jove, such scandalous oppression Would put an elephant in pa.s.sion.

You, who your flocks (as you pretend) By wholesome laws from harm defend, Which make it death for any beast, How much soe'er by hunger press'd, To seize a sheep by force or stealth, For sheep have right to life and health; Can you commit, uncheck'd by shame, What in a beast so much you blame? 70 What is a law, if those who make it Become the forwardest to break it?

The case is plain: you would reserve All to yourselves, while others starve.

Such laws from base self-interest spring, Not from the reason of the thing--"

He was proceeding, when a swain Burst out,--"And dares a wolf arraign His betters, and condemn their measures, And contradict their wills and pleasures? 80 We have establish'd laws, 'tis true, But laws are made for such as you.

Know, sirrah, in its very nature A law can't reach the legislature.

For laws, without a sanction join'd, As all men know, can never bind; But sanctions reach not us the makers, For who dares punish us, though breakers?

'Tis therefore plain, beyond denial, That laws were ne'er design'd to tie all; 90 But those, whom sanctions reach alone: We stand accountable to none.

Besides, 'tis evident, that, seeing Laws from the great derive their being, They as in duty bound should love The great, in whom they live and move, And humbly yield to their desires: 'Tis just what grat.i.tude requires.

What suckling, dandled on the lap, Would tear away its mother's pap? 100 But hold--Why deign I to dispute With such a scoundrel of a brute?

Logic is lost upon a knave, Let action prove the law our slave."

An angry nod his will declared To his gruff yeoman of the guard; The full-fed mongrels, train'd to ravage, Fly to devour the s.h.a.ggy savage.

The beast had now no time to lose In chopping logic with his foes; 110 "This argument," quoth he, "has force, And swiftness is my sole resource."

He said, and left the swains their prey, And to the mountains scour'd away.

SONG;

IN IMITATION OF SHAKSPEARE'S "BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND."

1

Blow, blow, thou vernal gale!

Thy balm will not avail To ease my aching breast; Though thou the billows smooth, Thy murmurs cannot soothe My weary soul to rest.

2

Flow, flow, thou tuneful stream!

Infuse the easy dream Into the peaceful soul; But thou canst not compose The tumult of my woes, Though soft thy waters roll.

3

Blush, blush, ye fairest flowers!

Beauties surpa.s.sing yours My Rosalind adorn; Nor is the Winter's blast, That lays your glories waste, So killing as her scorn.

4

Breathe, breathe, ye tender lays, That linger down the maze Of yonder winding grove; O let your soft control Bend her relenting soul To pity and to love.

5

Fade, fade, ye flowerets fair!

Gales, fan no more the air!

Ye streams, forget to glide; Be hush'd each vernal strain; Since nought can soothe my pain, Nor mitigate her pride.

TO LADY CHARLOTTE GORDON,

DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET, WITH PLUMES, ETC.