Part 29 (1/2)
A certain Man, when he had made A sacrifice, for special aid To Hercules, and kill'd a swine, Did for his a.s.s's share a.s.sign All the remainder of the corn; But he, rejecting it with scorn, Thus said: ”I gladly would partake-- But apprehend that life's at stake; For he you fatted up and fed With store of this, is stuck and dead.”
Struck with the import of this tale, I have succeeded to prevail Upon my pa.s.sions, and abstain, From peril of immod'rate gain.
But, you will say, those that have come Unjustly by a handsome sum, Upon the pillage still subsist-- Why, if we reckon up the list, You'll find by far the major part Have been conducted in the cart: Temerity for some may do, But many more their rashness rue.
V. THE BUFFOON AND COUNTRY-FELLOW.
In ev'ry age, in each profession, Men err the most by prepossession; But when the thing is clearly shown, Is fairly urged, and fully known, We soon applaud what we deride, And penitence succeeds to pride.
A certain n.o.ble, on a day, Having a mind to show away, Invited by reward the mimes And play'rs and tumblers of the times, And built a large commodious stage For the choice spirits of the age: But, above all, amongst the rest There came a genius who profess'd To have a curious trick in store That never was perform'd before.
Through all the town this soon got air, And the whole house was like a fair; But soon his entry as he made, Without a prompter or parade, 'Twas all expectance and suspense, And silence gagg'd the audience.
He, stooping down and looking big, So wondrous well took off a pig, All swore 'twas serious, and no joke, For that, or underneath his cloak He had concealed some grunting elf, Or was a real hog himself.
A search was made--no pig was found-- With thund'ring claps the seats resound, And pit, and box, and gall'ries roar With-- ”O rare! bravo!” and ”encore.”
Old Roger Grouse, a country clown, Who yet knew something of the town, Beheld the mimic of his whim, And on the morrow challenged him Declaring to each beau and belle That he this grunter would excel.
The morrow came--the crowd was greater-- But prejudice and rank ill-nature Usurp'd the minds of men and wenches, Who came to hiss and break the benches.
The mimic took his usual station, And squeak'd with general approbation; Again ”Encore! encore!” they cry-- ”'Tis quite the thing, 'tis very high.”
Old Grouse conceal'd, amidst this racket, A real pig beneath his jacket-- Then forth he came, and with his nail He pinch'd the urchin by the tail.
The tortured pig, from out his throat, Produced the genuine nat'ral note.
All bellow'd out 'twas very sad!
Sure never stuff was half so bad.
”That like a pig!” each cried in scoff; ”Pshaw! nonsense! blockhead! off! off! off!”
The mimic was extoll'd, and Grouse Was hiss'd, and catcall'd from the house.
”Soft ye, a word before I go,”
Quoth honest Hodge; and stooping low, Produced the pig, and thus aloud Bespoke the stupid partial crowd: ”Behold, and learn from this poor cratur, How much you critics know of natur!”
TO PARTICULO
As yet my muse is not to seek, But can from fresh materials speak; And our poetic fountain springs With rich variety of things.
But you're for sallies short and sweet; Long tales their purposes defeat.
Wherefore, thou worthiest, best of men Particulo, for whom my pen Immortal honour will insure, Long as a rev'rence shall endure For Roman learning--if this strain Cannot your approbation gain, Yet, yet my brevity admire, Which may the more to praise aspire, The more our poets now-a-days Are tedious in their lifeless lays.
VI. THE TWO BALD MEN.
As on his way a Bald-pate went, He found a comb by accident; Another, with a head as bare, Pursued, and hollow'd for a share.
The first produced the prize, and cried, ”Good Providence was on our side; But by the strange caprice of Fate, We're to no purpose fortunate; And, as the proverb says, have found A hobnail, for a hundred pound.”
They by this tale may be relieved Whose sanguine hopes have been deceived.
VII. PRINCE THE PIPER.