Part 29 (2/2)

A little, friv'lous, abject mind, Pleased with the rabble, puff'd with wind, When once, as fast as pride presumes, Itself with vanity it plumes, Is by fond lightness brought with ease To any ridicule you please.

One Prince, a piper to the play, Was rather noted in his way, As call'd upon to show his art, Whene'er Bathyllus did his part.

He being at a certain fair, (I do not well remember where,) While they pull'd down the booth in haste, Not taking heed, his leg displaced, He from the scaffold fell so hard-- (Would he his pipes had rather marr'd!

Though they, poor fellow! were to him As dear almost as life and limb).

Borne by the kind officious crowd, Home he's conducted, groaning loud.

Some months elapsed before he found Himself recover'd of his wound: Meantime, according to their way, The droll frequenters of the play Had a great miss of him, whose touch The dancers' spirits raised so much.

A certain man of high renown Was just preparing for the town Some games the mob to entertain, When Prince began to walk again; Whom, what with bribes and pray'rs, his grace Prevail'd upon to show his face In this performance, by all means-- And while he waits behind the scenes, A rumour through the house is spread, By certain, that ”the piper's dead.”

Others cried out, ”The man is here, And will immediately appear.”

The curtain draws, the lightnings flash, The G.o.ds speak out their usual trash.

An ode, not to the Piper known, Was to the chorus leader shown, Which he was order'd to repeat, And which was closed with this conceit-- ”Receive with joy, O loyal Rome, Thy Prince just rescued from his tomb.”

They all at once stand up and clap, At which my most facetious chap Kisses his hand, and sc.r.a.pes and bows To his good patrons in the house.

First the equestrian order smoke The fool's mistake, and high in joke, Command the song to be encored; Which ended, flat upon the board The Piper falls, the knights acclaim; The people think that Prince's aim Is for a crown of bays at least.

Now all the seats perceived the jest, And with his bandage white as snow, White frock, white pumps, a perfect beauty Proud of the feats he had achieved, And these high honours he received, With one unanimous huzza, Poor Prince was kick'd out of the play.

VIII. OPPORTUNITY.

Bald, naked, of a human shape, With fleet wings ready to escape, Upon a razor's edge his toes, And lock that on his forehead grows-- Him hold, when seized, for goodness' sake, For Jove himself cannot retake The fugitive when once he's gone.

The picture that we here have drawn Is Opportunity so brief.-- The ancients, in a bas-relief, Thus made an effigy of Time, That every one might use their prime; Nor e'er impede, by dull delay, Th' effectual business of to-day.

IX. THE BULL AND THE CALF.

A Bull was struggling to secure His pa.s.sage at a narrow door, And scarce could reach the rack of hay, His horns so much were in his way.

A Calf officious, fain would show How he might twist himself and go.

”Hold thou thy prate; all this,” says he, ”Ere thou wert calved was known to me.”

He, that a wiser man by half Would teach, may think himself this Calf.

X. THE OLD DOG AND THE HUNTSMAN.

A Dog, that time and often tried, His master always satisfied; And whensoever he a.s.sail'd, Against the forest-beasts prevail'd Both by activity and strength, Through years began to flag at length.

One day, when hounded at a boar, His ear he seized, as heretofore; But with his teeth, decay'd and old, Could not succeed to keep his hold.

At which the huntsman, much concern'd, The vet'ran huff'd, who thus return'd: ”My resolution and my aim, Though not my strength, are still the same; For what I am if I am chid, Praise what I was, and what I did.”

Philetus, you the drift perceive Of this, with which I take my leave.

THE END.

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