FABLE I.
The Cuckoo Traveller.
CUCKOO once, as Cuckoos use,
A Who'd been upon a winter's cruise,
Return'd with the returning spring-
Some hundred brothers of the wing,
Curious to hear from foreign realms,
Got round him in a tuft of elms.
He shook his pinions, struck his beak,
Attempted twice or thrice to speak;
At length, up-rising on his stand,
"Old England! Well, the land's a land! But rat me, gentlemen," says he,
"We passage-fowl that cross the sea
Have vast advantages o'er you;
Whose native woods are all you view.
The season past, I took a jaunt
Among the isles of the Levant;
Where, by the way, I stuff'd my guts
With almonds and pistachio nuts.
'Twas then my whim some weeks to be
In that choice garden, Italy:
But, underneath the sky's expanse,
No climate like the south of France!
You've often heard, I dare to swear,
How plenty ortolans are there;
'Tis true, and more delicious meat,
Upon my honour, I ne'er eat;
The eggs are good; it was ill luck
What day I had not ten to suck;
Yet notwithstanding, to my goût,
The bird's the sweeter of the two."
He went on, talking pert and loud,
When an old Raven, 'mongst the crowd,
Stopp'd short his insolent career—
"Why, what a monstrous bustle's here!
You travell'd, sir! I speak to you,
Who've passed so many countries thro';
Say, to what purpose is 't you roam,
And what improvements bring you home?
Has Italy, on which you doat,
Supply'd you with another note?
Or France, which you extol so high,
Taught you with better grace to fly?
I cannot see that both together
Have alter'd you a single feather:
Then tell not us of where you've been,
Of what you've done, or what you've seen;
While you and all your rambling pack
Cuckoos go out, Cuckoos come back."
The Ant and the Grasshopper.
WAS that bleak season of the year,
In which no smiles, no charms appear; Bare were the trees; the rivers froze; The hills and mountains capt with snows; When, lodging scarce and victuals scant, A Grasshopper address'd an Ant :
And, in a supplicating tone,
Begg'd he would make her case his own.
"It was, indeed, a bitter task
To those who were unused to ask;
Yet she was forc'd the truth to say,
She had not broke her fast that day;
His worship, tho', with plenty bless'd,
Knew how to pity the distress'd;
A grain of corn to her was gold,
And Heav'n would yield him fifty-fold."
The Ant beheld her wretched plight,
Nor seem'd unfeeling at the sight;
Yet, still inquisitive to know
How she became reduc'd so low,
Asked her-we 'll e'en suppose in rhymeWhat she did all the summer time?
"In summer time, good sir," said she, "Ah! these were merry months with me! I thought of nothing but delight, And sung, Lord, help me! day and night: Through yonder meadows did you pass, You must have heard me in the grass."
"Ah!" cry'd the Ant, and knit his brow"But 'tis enough I hear you now;
And, Madam Songstress, to be plain,
You seek my charity in vain :
What, shall th' industrious yield his due
To thriftless vagabonds like you!
Some corn I have, but none to spare,
Next summer learn to take more care;
And in your frolic moods, remember,
July is follow'd by December."
FABLE III.
The Wolf and the Dog.
PROWLING Wolf, that scour'd the plains,
To ease his hunger's griping pains,
Ragged as courtier in disgrace,
Hide-bound, and lean, and out of case,
By chance a well-fed Dog espy'd,
And being kin, and near ally'd,
He civilly salutes the cur:
"How do you, Cuz? Your servant, sir.
O happy friend! how gay thy mien !
How plump thy sides, how sleek thy skin!
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