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Ere I begin, I must premiseOur ministers are good and wise;So, though malicious tongues apply,Pray what care they, or what care I?If I am free with courts; be't known,I ne'er presume to mean our own.If general morals seem to jokeOn ministers, and such like folk,A captious fool may take offence;What then? he knows his own pretence._10I meddle with no state affairs,But spare my jest to save my ears.Our present schemes are too profound,For Machiavel himself to sound:To censure them I've no pretension;I own they're past my comprehension.You say your brother wants a place,('Tis many a younger brother's case,)And that he very soon intendsTo ply the Court, and tease his friends._20If there his merits chance to findA patriot of an open mind,Whose constant actions prove him justTo both a king's and people's trust;May he with gratitude attend,And owe his rise to such a friend.You praise his parts, for business fit,His learning, probity, and wit;But those alone will never do,Unless his patron have them too._30I've heard of times (pray God defend us,We're not so good but He can mend us)When wicked ministers have trodOn kings and people, law and God;With arrogance they girt the throne,And knew no interest but their own.Then virtue, from preferment barr'd,Gets nothing but its own reward.A gang of petty knaves attend 'em,With proper parts to recommend 'em._40Then if their patron burn with lust,The first in favour's pimp the first.His doors are never closed to spies,Who cheer his heart with double lies;They flatter him, his foes defame,So lull the pangs of guilt and shame.If schemes of lucre haunt his brain,Projectors swell his greedy train;Vile brokers ply his private earWith jobs of plunder for the year;_50All consciences must bend and ply;You must vote on, and not know why:Through thick and thin you must go on;One scruple, and your place is gone.Since plagues like these have cursed a land,And favourites cannot always stand;Good courtiers should for change be ready,And not have principles too steady:For should a knave engross the power,(God shield the realm, from that sad hour,)_60He must have rogues, or slavish fools:For what's a knave without his tools?Wherever those a people drain,And strut with infamy and gain,I envy not their guilt and state,And scorn to share the public hate.Let their own servile creatures riseBy screening fraud, and venting lies;Give me, kind heaven, a private station,[7]A mind serene for contemplation:_70Title and profit I resign;The post of honour shall be mine.My fable read, their merits view,Then herd who will with such a crew.In days of yore (my cautious rhymesAlways except the present times)A greedy vulture skilled in game,Inured to guilt, unawed by shame,Approached the throne in evil hour,And step by step intrudes to power;_80When at the royal eagle's ear,He longs to ease the monarch's care.The monarch grants. With pride elate,Behold him minister of state!Around him throng the feathered rout;Friends must be served, and some must out,Each thinks his own the best pretension;This asks a place, and that a pension.The nightingale was set aside,A forward daw his room supplied._90'This bird,' says he, 'for business fit,Hath both sagacity and wit.With all his turns, and shifts, and tricks,He's docile, and at nothing sticks.Then, with his neighbours one so free,At all times will connive at me.'The hawk had due distinction shown,For parts and talents like his own.Thousands of hireling cocks attends him,As blustering bullies, to defend him._100At once the ravens were discarded,And magpies with their posts rewarded.'Those fowls of omen I detest,That pry into another's nest,State-lies must lose all good intent;For they foresee and croak the event.My friends ne'er think, but talk by rote,Speak what they're taught, and so to vote.''When rogues like these,' a sparrow cries,'To honours and employments rise,_110I court no favour, ask no place;For such preferment is disgrace.Within my thatched retreat I find(What these ne'er feel) true peace of mind.'
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We frequently misplace esteem,By judging men by what they seem,To birth, wealth, power, we should allowPrecedence, and our lowest bow.In that is due distinction shown,Esteem is virtue's right alone.With partial eye we're apt to seeThe man of noble pedigree.We're prepossess'd my lord inheritsIn some degree his grandsire's merits;_10For those we find upon record:But find him nothing but my lord.When we with superficial view,Gaze on the rich, we're dazzled too.We know that wealth well understood,Hath frequent power of doing good:Then fancy that the thing is done,As if the power and will were one.Thus oft the cheated crowd adoreThe thriving knaves that keep them poor._20The cringing train of power survey:What creatures are so low as they!With what obsequiousness they bend!To what vile actions condescend!Their rise is on their meanness built,And flattery is their smallest guilt.What homage, rev'rence, adoration,In every age, in every nation,Have sycophants to power addressed!No matter who the power possessed._30Let ministers be what they will,You find their levees always fill.Even those who have perplexed a state,Whose actions claim contempt and hate,Had wretches to applaud their schemes,Though more absurd than madmen's dreams.When barbarous Moloch was invoked,The blood of infants only smoked!But here (unless all history lies)Whole realms have been a sacrifice._40Look through all Courts—'Tis power we find,The general idol of mankind,There worshipped under every shape;Alike the lion, fox, and apeAre followed by time-serving slaves,Rich prostitutes, and needy knaves.Who, then, shall glory in his post?How frail his pride, how vain his boast!The followers of his prosperous hourAre as unstable as his power._50Power by the breath of flattery nursed,The more it swells, is nearer burst.The bubble breaks, the gewgaw ends,And in a dirty tear descends.Once on a time, an ancient maid,By wishes and by time decayed,To cure the pangs of restless thought,In birds and beasts amusement sought:Dogs, parrots, apes, her hours employed;With these alone she talked and toyed._60A huge baboon her fancy took,(Almost a man in size and look,)He fingered everything he found,And mimicked all the servants round.Then, too, his parts and ready witShowed him for every business fit.With all these talents, 'twas but justThat pug should hold a place of trust:So to her fav'rite was assignedThe charge of all her feathered kind._70'Twas his to tend 'em eve and morn,And portion out their daily corn.Behold him now with haughty stride,Assume a ministerial pride.The morning rose. In hope of picking,Swans, turkeys, peacocks, ducks and chicken,Fowls of all ranks surround his hut,To worship his important strut.The minister appears. The crowdNow here, now there, obsequious bowed._80This praised his parts, and that his face,T'other his dignity in place.From bill to bill the flattery ran:He hears and bears it like a man:For, when we flatter self-conceit,We but his sentiments repeat.If we're too scrupulously just,What profit's in a place of trust?The common practice of the great,Is to secure a snug retreat._90So pug began to turn his brain(Like other folks in place) on gain.An apple-woman's stall was near,Well stocked with fruits through all the year;Here every day he crammed his guts,Hence were his hoards of pears and nuts;For 'twas agreed (in way of trade)His payments should in corn be made.The stock of grain was quickly spent,And no account which way it went._100Then, too, the poultry's starved conditionCaused speculations of suspicion.The facts were proved beyond dispute;Pug must refund his hoards of fruit:And, though then minister in chief,Was branded as a public thief.Disgraced, despised, confined to chains,He nothing but his pride retains.A goose passed by; he knew the face,Seen every levee while in place._110'What, no respect! no reverence shown?How saucy are these creatures grown!Not two days since,' says he, 'you bowedThe lowest of my fawning crowd.''Proud fool,' replies the goose,''tis true,Thy corn a fluttering levee drew!For that I joined the hungry train,And sold thee flattery for thy grain.But then, as now, conceited ape,We saw thee in thy proper shape.'_120
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You tell me, that you apprehendMy verse may touchy folks offend.In prudence too you think my rhymesShould never squint at courtiers' crimes:For though nor this, nor that is meant,Can we another's thoughts prevent?You ask me if I ever knewCourt chaplains thus the lawn pursue.I meddle not with gown or lawn;Poets, I grant, to rise must fawn._10They know great ears are over-nice,And never shock their patron's vice.But I this hackney path despise;'Tis my ambition not to rise.If I must prostitute the Muse,The base conditions I refuse.I neither flatter nor defame,Yet own I would bring guilt to shame.If I corruption's hand expose,I make corrupted men my foes._20What then? I hate the paltry tribe;Be virtue mine; be theirs the bribe.I no man's property invade;Corruption's yet no lawful trade.Nor would it mighty ills produce,Could I shame bribery out of use,I know 'twould cramp most politicians,Were they tied down to these conditions.'Twould stint their power, their riches bound,And make their parts seem less profound._30Were they denied their proper tools,How could they lead their knaves and fools?Were this the case, let's take a view,What dreadful mischiefs would ensue;Though it might aggrandise the state,Could private luxury dine on plate?Kings might indeed their friends reward,But ministers find less regard.Informers, sycophants, and spies,Would not augment the year's supplies._40Perhaps, too, take away this prop,An annual job or two might drop.Besides, if pensions were denied,Could avarice support its pride?It might even ministers confound,And yet the state be safe and sound.I care not though 'tis understoodI only mean my country's good:And (let who will my freedom blame)I wish all courtiers did the same._50Nay, though some folks the less might get,I wish the nation out of debt.I put no private man's ambitionWith public good in competition:Rather than have our law defaced,I'd vote a minister disgraced.I strike at vice, be't where it will;And what if great folks take it ill?I hope corruption, bribery, pension,One may with detestation mention:_60Think you the law (let who will take it)Canscandalum magnatummake it?I vent no slander, owe no grudge,Nor of another's conscience judge:At him, or him, I take no aim,Yet dare against all vice declaim.Shall I not censure breach of trust,Because knaves know themselves unjust?That steward, whose account is clear,Demands his honour may appear:_70His actions never shun the light,He is, and would be proved upright.But then you think my fable bearsAllusion, too, to state affairs.I grant it does: and who's so great,That has the privilege to cheat?If, then, in any future reign(For ministers may thirst for gain;)Corrupted hands defraud the nation,I bar no reader's application._80An ant there was, whose forward prateControlled all matters in debate;Whether he knew the thing or no,His tongue eternally would go.For he had impudence at will,And boasted universal skill.Ambition was his point in view;Thus, by degrees, to power he grew.Behold him now his drift attain:He's made chief treasurer of the grain._90But as their ancient laws are just,And punish breach of public trust,'Tis ordered (lest wrong applicationShould starve that wise industrious nation)That all accounts be stated clear,Their stock, and what defrayed the year:That auditors should these inspect, 97And public rapine thus be checked.For this the solemn day was set,The auditors in council met._100The granary-keeper must explain,And balance his account of grain.He brought (since he could not refuse 'em)Some scraps of paper to amuse 'em.An honest pismire, warm with zeal,In justice to the public weal,Thus spoke: 'The nation's hoard is low,From whence doth this profusion flow?I know our annual funds' amount.Why such expense, and where's the account?'_110With wonted arrogance and pride,The ant in office thus replied:'Consider, sirs, were secrets told,How could the best-schemed projects hold?Should we state-mysteries disclose,'Twould lay us open to our foes.My duty and my well-known zealBid me our present schemes conceal.But on my honour, all the expense(Though vast) was for the swarm's defence._120They passed the account as fair and just,And voted him implicit trust.Next year again the granary drained,He thus his innocence maintained:'Think how our present matters stand,What dangers threat from every hand;What hosts of turkeys stroll for food,No farmer's wife but hath her brood.Consider, when invasion's near,Intelligence must cost us dear;_130And, in this ticklish situation,A secret told betrays the nation.But, on my honour, all the expense(Though vast) was for the swarm's defence.'Again, without examination,They thanked his sage administration.The year revolves. The treasure spent,Again in secret service went.His honour too again was pledged,To satisfy the charge alleged._140When thus, with panic shame possessed,An auditor his friends addressed:'What are we? Ministerial tools.We little knaves are greater fools.At last this secret is explored;'Tis our corruption thins the hoard.For every grain we touched, at leastA thousand his own heaps increased.Then for his kin, and favourite spies,A hundred hardly could suffice._150Thus, for a paltry sneaking bribe,We cheat ourselves, and all the tribe;For all the magazine contains,Grows from our annual toil and pains.'They vote the account shall be inspected;The cunning plunderer is detected;The fraud is sentenced; and his hoard,As due, to public use restored.
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That man must daily wiser grow,Whose search is bent himself to know;Impartially he weighs his scope,And on firm reason founds his hope;He tries his strength before the race,And never seeks his own disgrace;He knows the compass, sail, and oar,Or never launches from the shore;Before he builds, computes the cost;And in no proud pursuit is lost:_10He learns the bounds of human sense,And safely walks within the fence.Thus, conscious of his own defect,Are pride and self-importance check'd.If then, self-knowledge to pursue,Direct our life in every view,Of all the fools that pride can boast,A coxcomb claims distinction most.Coxcombs are of all ranks and kind:They're not to sex or age confined,_20Or rich, or poor, or great, or small;And vanity besets them all.By ignorance is pride increased:Those most assume who know the least;Their own false balance gives them weight,But every other finds them light.Not that all coxcombs' follies strike,And draw our ridicule alike;To different merits each pretends.This in love-vanity transcends;_30That smitten with his face and shape,By dress distinguishes the ape;T'other with learning crams his shelf,Knows books, and all things but himself.All these are fools of low condition,Compared with coxcombs of ambition.For those, puffed up with flattery, dareAssume a nation's various care.They ne'er the grossest praise mistrust,Their sycophants seem hardly just;_40For these, in part alone, attestThe flattery their own thoughts suggest.In this wide sphere a coxcomb's shownIn other realms beside his own:The self-deemed Machiavel at largeBy turns controls in every charge.Does commerce suffer in her rights?'Tis he directs the naval flights.What sailor dares dispute his skill?He'll be an admiral when he will._50Now meddling in the soldier's trade,Troops must be hired, and levies made.He gives ambassadors their cue,His cobbled treaties to renew;And annual taxes must sufficeThe current blunders to disguiseWhen his crude schemes in air are lost,And millions scarce defray the cost,His arrogance (nought undismayed)Trusting in self-sufficient aid,_60On other rocks misguides the realm,And thinks a pilot at the helm.He ne'er suspects his want of skill,But blunders on from ill to ill;And, when he fails of all intent,Blames only unforeseen event.Lest you mistake the application,The fable calls me to relation.A bear of shag and manners rough,At climbing trees expert enough;_70For dextrously, and safe from harm,Year after year he robbed the swarm.Thus thriving on industrious toil,He gloried in his pilfered spoil.This trick so swelled him with conceit,He thought no enterprise too great.Alike in sciences and arts,He boasted universal parts;Pragmatic, busy, bustling, bold,His arrogance was uncontrolled:_80And thus he made his party good,And grew dictator of the wood.The beasts with admiration stare,And think him a prodigious bear.Were any common booty got,'Twas his each portion to allot:For why, he found there might be picking,Even in the carving of a chicken.Intruding thus, he by degreesClaimed too the butcher's larger fees._90And now his over-weening prideIn every province will preside.No talk too difficult was found:His blundering nose misleads the hound.In stratagem and subtle arts,He overrules the fox's parts.It chanced, as, on a certain day,Along the bank he took his way,A boat, with rudder, sail, and oar,At anchor floated near the shore._100He stopp'd, and turning to his train,Thus pertly vents his vaunting strain:'What blundering puppies are mankind,In every science always blind!I mock the pedantry of schools.What are their compasses and rules?From me that helm shall conduct learn.And man his ignorance discern.'So saying, with audacious pride,He gains the boat, and climbs the side._110The beasts astonished, lined the strand,The anchor's weighed, he drives from land:The slack sail shifts from side to side;The boat untrimmed admits the tide,Borne down, adrift, at random toss'd,His oar breaks short, the rudder's lost.The bear, presuming in his skill,Is here and there officious still;Till striking on the dangerous sands,Aground the shattered vessel stands._120To see the bungler thus distress'd,The very fishes sneer and jest.Even gudgeons join in ridicule,To mortify the meddling fool.The clamorous watermen appear;Threats, curses, oaths, insult his ear:Seized, thrashed, and chained, he's dragged to land;Derision shouts along the strand.
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The man of pure and simple heartThrough life disdains a double part.He never needs the screen of liesHis inward bosom to disguise.In vain malicious tongues assail;Let envy snarl, let slander rail,From virtue's shield (secure from wound)Their blunted, venomed shafts rebound.So shines his light before mankind,His actions prove his honest mind._10If in his country's cause he rise,Debating senates to advise,Unbribed, unawed, he dares impartThe honest dictates of his heart.No ministerial frown he fears,But in his virtue perseveres.But would you play the politician,Whose heart's averse to intuition,Your lips at all times, nay, your reasonMust be controlled by place and season._20What statesman could his power supportWere lying tongues forbid the court?Did princely ears to truth attend,What minister could gain his end?How could he raise his tools to place,And how his honest foes disgrace?That politician tops his part,Who readily can lie with art:The man's proficient in his trade;His power is strong, his fortune's made._30By that the interest of the throneIs made subservient to his own:By that have kings of old, deluded,All their own friends for his excluded.By that, his selfish schemes pursuing,He thrives upon the public ruin.Antiochus,[8] with hardy pace,Provoked the dangers of the chase;And, lost from all his menial train,Traversed the wood and pathless plain._40A cottage lodged the royal guest!The Parthian clown brought forth his best.The king, unknown, his feast enjoyed,And various chat the hours employed.From wine what sudden friendship springs!Frankly they talked of courts and kings.'We country-folks,' the clown replies,'Could ope our gracious monarch's eyes.The king, (as all our neighbours say,)Might he (God bless him) have his way,_50Is sound at heart, and means our good,And he would do it, if he could.If truth in courts were not forbid,Nor kings nor subjects would be rid.Were he in power, we need not doubt him:But that transferred to those about him,On them he throws the regal cares:And what mind they? Their own affairs.If such rapacious hands he trust,The best of men may seem unjust._60From kings to cobblers 'tis the same:Bad servants wound their master's fame.In this our neighbours all agree:Would the king knew as much as we.'Here he stopp'd short. Repose they sought,The peasant slept, the monarch thought.The courtiers learned, at early dawn,Where their lost sovereign was withdrawn.The guards' approach our host alarms,With gaudy coats the cottage swarms._70The crown and purple robes they bring,And prostrate fall before the king.The clown was called, the royal guestBy due reward his thanks express'd.The king then, turning to the crowd,Who fawningly before him bow'd,Thus spoke: 'Since, bent on private gain,Your counsels first misled my reign,Taught and informed by you alone,No truth the royal ear hath known,_80Till here conversing. Hence, ye crew,For now I know myself and you.'Whene'er the royal ear's engross'd,State-lies but little genius cost.The favourite then securely robs,And gleans a nation by his jobs.Franker and bolder grown in ill,He daily poisons dares instil;And, as his present views suggest,Inflames or soothes the royal breast._90Thus wicked ministers oppress,When oft the monarch means redress.Would kings their private subjects hear,A minister must talk with fear.If honesty opposed his views,He dared not innocence excuse.'Twould keep him in such narrow bound,He could not right and wrong confound.Happy were kings, could they discloseTheir real friends and real foes!_100Were both themselves and subjects known,A monarch's will might be his own.Had he the use of ears and eyes,Knaves would no more be counted wise.But then a minister might lose(Hard case!) his own ambitious views.When such as these have vexed a state,Pursued by universal hate,Their false support at once hath failed,And persevering truth prevailed._110Exposed their train of fraud is seen;Truth will at last remove the screen.A country squire, by whim directed,The true stanch dogs of chase neglected.Beneath his board no hound was fed,His hand ne'er stroked the spaniel's head.A snappish cur, alone caress'd,By lies had banished all the rest.Yap had his ear; and defamationGave him full scope of conversation._120His sycophants must be preferr'd,Room must be made for all his herd:Wherefore, to bring his schemes about,Old faithful servants all must out.The cur on every creature flew,(As other great men's puppies do,)Unless due court to him were shown,And both their face and business known,No honest tongue an audience found:He worried all the tenants round;_130For why, he lived in constant fear,Lest truth, by chance, should interfere.If any stranger dare intrude,The noisy cur his heels pursued.Now fierce with rage, now struck with dread,At once he snarled, bit, and fled.Aloof he bays, with bristling hair,And thus in secret growls his fear:'Who knows but truth, in this disguise,May frustrate my best-guarded lies?_140Should she (thus masked) admittance find,That very hour my ruin's signed.'Now, in his howl's continued sound,Their words were lost, their voice was drown'd.Ever in awe of honest tongues,Thus every day he strained his lungs.It happened, in ill-omened hour,That Yap, unmindful of his power,Forsook his post, to love inclined;A favourite bitch was in the wind._150By her seduced, in amorous play,They frisked the joyous hours away.Thus, by untimely love pursuing,Like Antony, he sought his ruin.For now the squire, unvexed with noise,An honest neighbour's chat enjoys.'Be free,' says he, 'your mind impart;I love a friendly open heart.Methinks my tenants shun my gate;Why such a stranger grown of late?_160Pray tell me what offence they find:'Tis plain they're not so well inclined.''Turn off your cur,' the farmer cries,'Who feeds your ear with daily lies.His snarling insolence offends; 165'Tis he that keeps you from your friends.Were but that saucy puppy check'd,You'd find again the same respect.Hear only him, he'll swear it too,That all our hatred is to you._170But learn from us your true estate;'Tis that cursed cur alone we hate.'The squire heard truth. Now Yap rushed in;The wide hall echoes with his din:Yet truth prevailed; and with disgrace,The dog was cudgelled out of place.
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Have you a friend (look round and spy)So fond, so prepossessed as I?Your faults, so obvious to mankind,My partial eyes could never find.When by the breath of fortune blown,Your airy castles were o'erthrown;Have I been over-prone to blame,Or mortified your hours with shame?Was I e'er known to damp your spirit,Or twit you with the want of merit?_10'Tis not so strange, that Fortune's frownStill perseveres to keep you down.Look round, and see what others do.Would you be rich and honest too?Have you (like those she raised to place)Been opportunely mean and base?Have you (as times required) resignedTruth, honour, virtue, peace of mind?If these are scruples, give her o'er;Write, practise morals, and be poor._20The gifts of fortune truly rate;Then tell me what would mend your state.If happiness on wealth were built,Rich rogues might comfort find in guilt;As grows the miser's hoarded store,His fears, his wants, increase the more.Think, Gay, (what ne'er may be the case,)Should fortune take you into grace,Would that your happiness augment?What can she give beyond content?_30Suppose yourself a wealthy heir,With a vast annual income clear!In all the affluence you possess,You might not feel one care the less.Might you not then (like others) findWith change of fortune, change of mind?Perhaps, profuse beyond all rule,You might start out a glaring fool;Your luxury might break all bounds;Plate, table, horses, stewards, hounds,_40Might swell your debts: then, lust of playNo regal income can defray.Sunk is all credit, writs assail,And doom your future life to jail.Or were you dignified with power,Would that avert one pensive hour?You might give avarice its swing,Defraud a nation, blind a king:Then, from the hirelings in your cause,Though daily fed with false applause,_50Could it a real joy impart?Great guilt knew never joy at heart.Is happiness your point in view?(I mean the intrinsic and the true)She nor in camps or courts resides,Nor in the humble cottage hides;Yet found alike in every sphere;Who finds content, will find her there.O'erspent with toil, beneath the shade,A peasant rested on his spade._60'Good gods!' he cries, ''tis hard to bearThis load of life from year to year.Soon as the morning streaks the skies,Industrious labour bids me rise;With sweat I earn my homely fare,And every day renews my care.'Jove heard the discontented strain,And thus rebuked the murmuring swain:'Speak out your wants then, honest friend:Unjust complaints the gods offend._70If you repine at partial fate,Instruct me what could mend your state.Mankind in every station see.What wish you? Tell me what you'd be.'So said, upborne upon a cloud,The clown surveyed the anxious crowd.'Yon face of care,' says Jove, 'behold,His bulky bags are filled with gold.See with what joy he counts it o'er!That sum to-day hath swelled his store.'_80'Were I that man,' the peasant cried,'What blessing could I ask beside?''Hold,' says the god; 'first learn to knowTrue happiness from outward show.This optic glass of intuition——Here, take it, view his true condition.'He looked, and saw the miser's breast,A troubled ocean, ne'er at rest;Want ever stares him in the face,And fear anticipates disgrace:_90With conscious guilt he saw him start;Extortion gnaws his throbbing heart;And never, or in thought or dream,His breast admits one happy gleam.'May Jove,' he cries, 'reject my prayer,And guard my life from guilt and care.My soul abhors that wretch's fate.O keep me in my humble state!But see, amidst a gaudy crowd,Yon minister, so gay and proud,_100On him what happiness attends,Who thus rewards his grateful friends!''First take the glass,' the god replies:'Man views the world with partial eyes.''Good gods!' exclaims the startled wight,'Defend me from this hideous sight!Corruption, with corrosive smart,Lies cankering on his guilty heart:I see him, with polluted hand,Spread the contagion o'er the land,_110Now avarice with insatiate jaws,Now rapine with her harpy clawsHis bosom tears. His conscious breastGroans, with a load of crimes oppress'd.See him, mad and drunk with power,Stand tottering on ambition's tower.Sometimes, in speeches vain and proud,His boasts insult the nether crowd;Now, seized with giddiness and fear,He trembles lest his fall is near._120'Was ever wretch like this?' he cries;'Such misery in such disguise!The change, O Jove, I disavow;Still be my lot the spade and plough.'He next, confirmed by speculation,Rejects the lawyer's occupation;For he the statesman seemed in part,And bore similitude of heart.Nor did the soldier's trade inflameHis hopes with thirst of spoil and fame,_130The miseries of war he mourned;Whole nations into deserts turned.By these have laws and rights been braved;By these were free-born men enslaved:When battles and invasion cease,Why swarm they in a land of peace?'Such change,' says he, 'may I decline;The scythe and civil arms be mine!'Thus, weighing life in each condition,The clown withdrew his rash petition._140When thus the god: 'How mortals err!If you true happiness prefer,'Tis to no rank of life confined,But dwells in every honest mind.Be justice then your sole pursuit:Plant virtue, and content's the fruit.'So Jove, to gratify the clown,Where first he found him set him down.
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Hail, happy land, whose fertile groundsThe liquid fence of Neptune bounds;By bounteous Nature set apart,The seat of industry and art!O Britain! chosen port of trade,May luxury ne'er thy sons invade;May never minister (intentHis private treasures to augment)Corrupt thy state. If jealous foesThy rights of commerce dare oppose,_10Shall not thy fleets their rapine awe?Who is't prescribes the ocean law?Whenever neighbouring states contend,'Tis thine to be the general friend.What is't, who rules in other lands?On trade alone thy glory stands.That benefit is unconfined,Diffusing good among mankind:That first gave lustre to thy reigns,And scattered plenty o'er thy plains:_20'Tis that alone thy wealth supplies,And draws all Europe's envious eyes.Be commerce then thy sole design;Keep that, and all the world is thine.When naval traffic ploughs the main,Who shares not in the merchant's gain?'Tis that supports the regal state,And makes the farmer's heart elate:The numerous flocks, that clothe the land,Can scarce supply the loom's demand;_30Prolific culture glads the fields,And the bare heath a harvest yields.Nature expects mankind should shareThe duties of the public care.Who's born for sloth?[9] To some we findThe ploughshare's annual toil assign'd.Some at the sounding anvil glow;Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw;Some, studious of the wind and tide,From pole to pole our commerce guide:_40Some (taught by industry) impartWith hands and feet the works of art;While some, of genius more refined,With head and tongue assist mankind:Each, aiming at one common end,Proves to the whole a needful friend.Thus, born each other's useful aid,By turns are obligations paid.The monarch, when his table's spread,Is to the clown obliged for bread;_50And when in all his glory dress'd,Owes to the loom his royal vest.Do not the mason's toil and careProtect him from the inclement air?Does not the cutler's art supplyThe ornament that guards his thigh?All these, in duty to the throne,Their common obligations own.'Tis he (his own and people's cause)Protects their properties and laws._60Thus they their honest toil employ,And with content their fruits enjoy.In every rank, or great or small,'Tis industry supports us all.The animals by want oppressed,To man their services addressed;While each pursued their selfish good,They hungered for precarious food.Their hours with anxious cares were vex'd;One day they fed, and starved the next._70They saw that plenty, sure and rife,Was found alone in social life;That mutual industry professed,The various wants of man redressed.The cat, half-famished, lean and weak,Demands the privilege to speak.'Well, puss,' says man, 'and what can youTo benefit the public do?'The cat replies: 'These teeth, these claws,With vigilance shall serve the cause._80The mouse destroyed by my pursuit,No longer shall your feasts pollute;Nor rats, from nightly ambuscade,With wasteful teeth your stores invade.''I grant,' says man, 'to general useYour parts and talents may conduce;For rats and mice purloin our grain,And threshers whirl the flail in vain:Thus shall the cat, a foe to spoil,Protect the farmer's honest toil,'_90Then, turning to the dog, he cried,'Well, sir; be next your merits tried.''Sir,' says the dog, 'by self-applauseWe seem to own a friendless cause.Ask those who know me, if distrustE'er found me treacherous or unjust?Did I e'er faith or friendship break?Ask all those creatures; let them speak.My vigilance and trusty zealPerhaps might serve the public weal._100Might not your flocks in safety feed,Were I to guard the fleecy breed?Did I the nightly watches keep,Could thieves invade you while you sleep?'The man replies: ''Tis just and right;Rewards such service should requite.So rare, in property, we findTrust uncorrupt among mankind,That, taken, in a public view,The first distinction is your due._110Such merits all reward transcend:Be then my comrade and my friend.'Addressing now the fly: 'From youWhat public service can accrue?''From me!' the flutt'ring insect said;'I thought you knew me better bred.Sir, I'm a gentleman. Is't fitThat I to industry submit?Let mean mechanics, to be fedBy business earn ignoble bread._120Lost in excess of daily joys,No thought, no care my life annoys,At noon (the lady's matin hour)I sip the tea's delicious flower.On cakes luxuriously I dine,And drink the fragrance of the vine.Studious of elegance and ease,Myself alone I seek to please.'The man his pert conceit derides,And thus the useless coxcomb chides:_130'Hence, from that peach, that downy seat,No idle fool deserves to eat.Could you have sapped the blushing rind,And on that pulp ambrosial dined,Had not some hand with skill and toil,To raise the tree, prepared the soil?Consider, sot, what would ensue,Were all such worthless things as you.You'd soon be forced (by hunger stung)To make your dirty meals on dung;_140On which such despicable need,Unpitied, is reduced to feed;Besides, vain selfish insect, learn(If you can right and wrong discern)That he who, with industrious zeal,Contributes to the public weal,By adding to the common good,His own hath rightly understood.'So saying, with a sudden blow,He laid the noxious vagrant low._150Crushed in his luxury and pride,The spunger on the public died.
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I grant corruption sways mankind;That interest too perverts the mind;That bribes have blinded common sense,Foiled reason, truth, and eloquence:I grant you too, our present crimesCan equal those of former times.Against plain facts shall I engage,To vindicate our righteous age?I know, that in a modern fist,Bribes in full energy subsist._10Since then these arguments prevail,And itching palms are still so frail,Hence politicians, you suggest,Should drive the nail that goes the best;That it shows parts and penetration,To ply men with the right temptation.To this I humbly must dissent;Premising no reflection's meant.Does justice or the client's senseTeach lawyers either side's defence?_20The fee gives eloquence its spirit;That only is the client's merit.Does art, wit, wisdom, or address,Obtain the prostitute's caress?The guinea (as in other trades)From every hand alike persuades.Man, Scripture says, is prone to evil,But does that vindicate the devil?Besides, the more mankind are prone,The less the devil's parts are shown._30Corruption's not of modern date;It hath been tried in every state.Great knaves of old their power have fenced,By places, pensions, bribes, dispensed;By these they gloried in success,And impudently dared oppress;By these despoticly they swayed,And slaves extolled the hand that paid;Nor parts, nor genius were employed,By these alone were realms destroyed._40Now see these wretches in disgrace,Stripp'd of their treasures, power, and place;View them abandoned and forlorn,Exposed to just reproach and scorn.What now is all your pride, your boast?Where are your slaves, your flattering host?What tongues now feed you with applause?Where are the champions of your cause?Now even that very fawning trainWhich shared the gleanings of your gain,_50Press foremost who shall first accuseYour selfish jobs, your paltry views,Your narrow schemes, your breach of trust,And want of talents to be just.What fools were these amidst their power!How thoughtless of their adverse hour!What friends were made? A hireling herd,For temporary votes preferr'd.Was it, these sycophants to get,Your bounty swelled a nation's debt?_60You're bit. For these, like Swiss attend;No longer pay, no longer friend.The lion is, beyond dispute,Allowed the most majestic brute;His valour and his generous mindProve him superior of his kind.Yet to jackals (as 'tis averred)Some lions have their power transferred;As if the parts of pimps and spiesTo govern forests could suffice._70Once, studious of his private good,A proud jackal oppressed the wood;To cram his own insatiate jaws, 73Invaded property and laws;The forest groans with discontent,Fresh wrongs the general hate foment,The spreading murmurs reached his ear;His secret hours were vexed with fear.Night after night he weighs the case,And feels the terrors of disgrace._80'By friends,' says he, 'I'll guard my seat,By those malicious tongues defeat:I'll strengthen power by new allies,And all my clamorous foes despise.'To make the generous beasts his friends,He cringes, fawns, and condescends;But those repulsed his abject court,And scorned oppression to support.Friends must be had. He can't subsist.Bribes shall new proselytes inlist._90But these nought weighed in honest paws;For bribes confess a wicked cause:Yet think not every paw withstandsWhat had prevailed in human hands.A tempting turnip's silver skinDrew a base hog through thick and thin:Bought with a stag's delicious haunch,The mercenary wolf was stanch:The convert fox grew warm and hearty,A pullet gained him to the party;_100The golden pippin in his fist,A chattering monkey joined the list.But soon exposed to public hate,The favourite's fall redressed the state.The leopard, vindicating right,Had brought his secret frauds to light,As rats, before the mansion falls,Desert late hospitable walls,In shoals the servile creatures run,To bow before the rising sun._110The hog with warmth expressed his zeal,And was for hanging those that steal;But hoped, though low, the public hoardMight half a turnip still afford.Since saving measures were profess'd,A lamb's head was the wolf's request.The fox submitted if to touchA gosling would be deemed too much.The monkey thought his grin and chatter,Might ask a nut or some such matter._120'Ye hirelings, hence,' the leopard cries;'Your venal conscience I despise.He who the public good intends,By bribes needs never purchase friends.Who acts this just, this open part,Is propp'd by every honest heart.Corruption now too late hath showed,That bribes are always ill-bestowed,By you your bubbled master's taught,Time-serving tools, not friends, are bought.'_130
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Though Courts the practice disallow,A friend at all times I'll avow.In politics I know 'tis wrong:A friendship may be kept too long;And what they call the prudent part,Is to wear interest next the heart,As the times take a different face,Old friendships should to new give place.I know too you have many foes,That owning you is sharing those,_10That every knave in every station,Of high and low denomination,For what you speak, and what you write,Dread you at once, and bear you spite.Such freedoms in your works are shownThey can't enjoy what's not their own;All dunces too, in church and state,In frothy nonsense show their hate;With all the petty scribbling crew,(And those pert sots are not a few,)_20'Gainst you and Pope their envy spurt,The booksellers alone are hurt.Good gods! by what a powerful race(For blockheads may have power and place)Are scandals raised and libels writ!To prove your honesty and wit!Think with yourself: Those worthy men,You know, have suffered by your pen.From them you've nothing but your due.From thence, 'tis plain, your friends are few._30Except myself, I know of none,Besides the wise and good alone.To set the case in fairer light,My fable shall the rest recite;Which (though unlike our present state)I for the moral's sake relate.A bee of cunning, not of parts,Luxurious, negligent of arts,Rapacious, arrogant, and vain,Greedy of power, but more of gain,_40Corruption sowed throughout the hive,By petty rogues the great ones thrive.As power and wealth his views supplied,'Twas seen in over-bearing pride.With him loud impudence had merit;The bee of conscience wanted spirit;And those who followed honour's rules,Were laughed to scorn for squeamish fools,Wealth claimed distinction, favour, grace;And poverty alone was base._50He treated industry with slight,Unless he found his profit by't.Eights, laws, and liberties gave way,To bring his selfish schemes in play.The swarm forgot the common toil,To share the gleanings of his spoil.'While vulgar souls of narrow parts,Waste life in low mechanic arts,Let us,' says he, 'to genius born,The drudgery of our fathers scorn._60The wasp and drone, you must agree,Live with more elegance than we.Like gentlemen they sport and play;No business interrupts the day;Their hours to luxury they give,And nobly on their neighbours live.'A stubborn bee, among the swarm,With honest indignation warm,Thus from his cell with zeal replied:'I slight thy frowns, and hate thy pride._70The laws our native rights protect;Offending thee, I those respect.Shall luxury corrupt the hive,And none against the torrent strive?Exert the honour of your race;He builds his rise on your disgrace.'Tis industry our state maintains:'Twas honest toils and honest gainsThat raised our sires to power and fame.Be virtuous; save yourselves from shame._80Know, that in selfish ends pursuing,You scramble for the public ruin.'He spoke; and from his cell dismissed,Was insolently scoffed and hissed.With him a friend or two resigned,Disdaining the degenerate kind.'These drones,' says he, 'these insects vile,(I treat them in their proper style,)May for a time oppress the state,They own our virtue by their hate;_90By that our merits they reveal,And recommend our public zeal;Disgraced by this corrupted crew,We're honoured by the virtuous few.'
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Begin, my lord, in early youth,To suffer, nay, encourage truth:And blame me not for disrespect,If I the flatterer's style reject;With that, by menial tongues supplied,You're daily cocker'd up in pride.The tree's distinguished by the fruit,Be virtue then your sole pursuit;Set your great ancestors in view,Like them deserve the title too;_10Like them ignoble actions scorn:Let virtue prove you greatly born.Though with less plate their sideboard shone,Their conscience always was their own;They ne'er at levees meanly fawned,Nor was their honour yearly pawned;Their hands, by no corruption stained,The ministerial bribe disdained;They served the crown with loyal zeal;Yet, jealous of the public weal,_20They stood the bulwark of our laws,And wore at heart their country's cause;By neither place or pension bought,They spoke and voted as they thought.Thus did your sires adorn their seat;And such alone are truly great.If you the paths of learning slight,You're but a dunce in stronger light;In foremost rank the coward placed,Is more conspicuously disgraced._30If you to serve a paltry end,To knavish jobs can condescend,We pay you the contempt that's due;In that you have precedence too.Whence had you this illustrious name?From virtue and unblemished fame.By birth the name alone descends;Your honour on yourself depends:Think not your coronet can hideAssuming ignorance and pride._40Learning by study must be won,'Twas ne'er entailed from son to son.Superior worth your rank requires;For that mankind reveres your sires;If you degenerate from your race,Their merits heighten your disgrace.A carrier, every night and morn,Would see his horses eat their corn:This sunk the hostler's vails, 'tis true;But then his horses had their due._50Were we so cautious in all cases,Small gain would rise from greater places.The manger now had all its measure;He heard the grinding teeth with pleasure;When all at once confusion rung;They snorted, jostled, bit, and flung:A pack-horse turned his head aside,Foaming, his eye-balls swelled with pride.'Good gods!' says he, 'how hard's my lot!Is then my high descent forgot?_60Reduced to drudgery and disgrace,(A life unworthy of my race,)Must I too bear the vile attacksOf rugged scrubs, and vulgar hacks?See scurvy Roan, that brute ill-bred,Dares from the manger thrust my head!Shall I, who boast a noble line,On offals of these creatures dine?Kicked by old Ball! so mean a foe!My honour suffers by the blow._70Newmarket speaks my grandsire's fame,All jockies still revere his name:There yearly are his triumphs told,There all his massy plates enrolled.Whene'er led forth upon the plain,You saw him with a livery train;Returning too with laurels crowned,You heard the drums and trumpets sound.Let it then, sir, be understood,Respect's my due; for I have blood.'_80'Vain-glorious fool!' the carrier cried,'Respect was never paid to pride.Know, 'twas thy giddy wilful heartReduced thee to this slavish part.Did not thy headstrong youth disdainTo learn the conduct of the rein?Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit,In vicious frolics fancy spirit.What is't to me by whom begot?Thou restive, pert, conceited sot._90Your sires I reverence; 'tis their due:But, worthless fool, what's that to you?Ask all the carriers on the road,They'll say thy keeping's ill bestowed.Then vaunt no more thy noble race,That neither mends thy strength or pace.What profits me thy boast of blood?An ass hath more intrinsic good.By outward show let's not be cheated;An ass should like an ass be treated.'_100
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Soon as your father's death was known,(As if the estate had been their own)The gamesters outwardly express'dThe decent joy within your breast.So lavish in your praise they grew,As spoke their certain hopes in you.One counts your income of the year,How much in ready money clear.'No house,' says he, 'is more complete;The garden's elegant and great._10How fine the park around it lies!The timber's of a noble size!Then count his jewels and his plate.Besides, 'tis no entailed estate.If cash run low, his lands in feeAre, or for sale, or mortgage free.'Thus they, before you threw the main,Seem to anticipate their gain.Would you, when thieves were known abroad,Bring forth your treasures in the road?_20Would not the fool abet the stealth,Who rashly thus exposed his wealth?Yet this you do, whene'er you playAmong the gentlemen of prey.Could fools to keep their own contrive,On what, on whom could gamesters thrive?Is it in charity you game,To save your worthy gang from shame?Unless you furnished daily bread,Which way could idleness be fed?_30Could these professors of deceitWithin the law no longer cheat,They must run bolder risks for prey,And strip the traveller on the way.Thus in your annual rents they share,And 'scape the noose from year to year.Consider, ere you make the bet,That sum might cross your tailor's debt.When you the pilfering rattle shake,Is not your honour too at stake?_40Must you not by mean lies evadeTo-morrow's duns from every trade?By promises so often paid,Is yet your tailor's bill defrayed?Must you not pitifully fawn,To have your butcher's writ withdrawn?This must be done. In debts of playYour honour suffers no delay:And not this year's and next year's rentThe sons of rapine can content._50Look round. The wrecks of play behold,Estates dismembered, mortgaged, sold!Their owners, not to jails confined,Show equal poverty of mind.Some, who the spoil of knaves were made,Too late attempt to learn their trade.Some, for the folly of one hour,Become the dirty tools of power,And, with the mercenary list,Upon court-charity subsist._60You'll find at last this maxim true,Fools are the game which knaves pursue.The forest (a whole century's shade)Must be one wasteful ruin made.No mercy's shewn to age or kind;The general massacre is signed.The park too shares the dreadful fate,For duns grow louder at the gate,Stern clowns, obedient to the squire,(What will not barbarous hands for hire?)_70With brawny arms repeat the stroke.Fallen are the elm and reverend oak.Through the long wood loud axes sound,And echo groans with every wound.To see the desolation spread,Pan drops a tear, and hangs his head:His bosom now with fury burns:Beneath his hoof the dice he spurns.Cards, too, in peevish passion torn,The sport of whirling winds are borne._80'To snails inveterate hate I bear,Who spoil the verdure of the year;The caterpillar I detest,The blooming spring's voracious pest;The locust too, whose ravenous bandSpreads sudden famine o'er the land.But what are these? The dice's throwAt once hath laid a forest low.The cards are dealt, the bet is made,And the wide park hath lost its shade._90Thus is my kingdom's pride defaced,And all its ancient glories waste.All this,' he cries, 'is Fortune's doing:'Tis thus she meditates my ruin.By Fortune, that false, fickle jade,More havoc in one hour is made,Than all the hungry insect race,Combined, can in an age deface.'Fortune, by chance, who near him pass'd,O'erheard the vile aspersion cast._100'Why, Pan,' says she, 'what's all this rant?'Tis every country-bubble's cant;Am I the patroness of vice?Is't I who cog or palm the dice?Did I the shuffling art reveal, 105To mark the cards, or range the deal?In all the employments men pursue,I mind the least what gamesters do.There may (if computation's just)One now and then my conduct trust:_110I blame the fool, for what can I,When ninety-nine my power defy?These trust alone their fingers' ends,And not one stake on me depends.Whene'er the gaming board is set,Two classes of mankind are met:But if we count the greedy race,The knaves fill up the greater space.'Tis a gross error, held in schools,That Fortune always favours fools._120In play it never bears dispute;That doctrine these felled oaks confute.Then why to me such rancour show?'Tis folly, Pan, that is thy foe.By me his late estate he won,But he by folly was undone.'
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Of all the burdens man must bear,Time seems most galling and severe:Beneath this grievous load oppressed,We daily meet some friend distressed.'What can one do? I rose at nine.'Tis full six hours before we dine:Six hours! no earthly thing to do!Would I had dozed in bed till two.'A pamphlet is before him spread,And almost half a page is read;_10Tired with the study of the day,The fluttering sheets are tossed away.He opes his snuff-box, hums an air,Then yawns, and stretches in his chair.'Not twenty, by the minute hand!Good gods:' says he, 'my watch must stand!How muddling 'tis on books to pore!I thought I'd read an hour or more,The morning, of all hours, I hate.One can't contrive to rise too late.'_20To make the minutes faster run,Then too his tiresome self to shun,To the next coffee-house he speeds,Takes up the news, some scraps he reads.Sauntering, from chair to chair he trails;Now drinks his tea, now bites his nails.He spies a partner of his woe;By chat afflictions lighter grow;Each other's grievances they share,And thus their dreadful hours compare._30Says Tom, 'Since all men must confess,That time lies heavy more or less;Why should it be so hard to getTill two, a party at piquet?Play might relieve the lagging morn:By cards long wintry nights are borne:Does not quadrille amuse the fair,Night after night, throughout the year?Vapours and spleen forgot, at playThey cheat uncounted hours away.'_40'My case,' says Will, 'then must be hardBy want of skill from play debarred.Courtiers kill time by various ways;Dependence wears out half their days.How happy these, whose time ne'er stands!Attendance takes it off their hands.Were it not for this cursed showerThe park had whiled away an hour.At Court, without or place or view,I daily lose an hour or two;_50It fully answers my design,When I have picked up friends to dine,The tavern makes our burden light;Wine puts our time and care to flight.At six (hard case!) they call to pay.Where can one go? I hate the play.From six till ten! Unless in sleep,One cannot spend the hours so cheap.The comedy's no sooner done,But some assembly is begun;_60Loit'ring from room to room I stray;Converse, but nothing hear or say:Quite tired, from fair to fair I roam.So soon: I dread the thoughts of home.From thence, to quicken slow-paced night,Again my tavern-friends invite:Here too our early mornings pass,Till drowsy sleep retards the glass.'Thus they their wretched life bemoan,And make each other's case their own._70Consider, friends, no hour rolls on,But something of your grief is gone.Were you to schemes of business bred,Did you the paths of learning tread.Your hours, your days, would fly too fast;You'd then regret the minute past,Time's fugitive and light as wind!'Tis indolence that clogs your mind!That load from off your spirits shake;You'll own and grieve for your mistake;_80A while your thoughtless spleen suspend,Then read, and (if you can) attend.As Plutus, to divert his care,Walked forth one morn to take the air,Cupid o'ertook his strutting pace,Each stared upon the stranger's face,Till recollection set them right;For each knew t'other but by sight.After some complimental talk,Time met them, bowed, and joined their walk._90Their chat on various subjects ran,But most, what each had done for man.Plutus assumes a haughty air,Just like our purse-proud fellows here.'Let kings,' says he, 'let cobblers tell,Whose gifts among mankind excel.Consider Courts: what draws their train?Think you 'tis loyalty or gain?That statesman hath the strongest hold,Whose tool of politics is gold._100By that, in former reigns, 'tis said,The knave in power hath senates led.By that alone he swayed debates,Enriched himself and beggared states.Forego your boast. You must conclude,That's most esteemed that's most pursued.Think too, in what a woful plightThat wretch must live whose pocket's light.Are not his hours by want depress'd?Penurious care corrodes his breast._110Without respect, or love, or friends,His solitary day descends.''You might,' says Cupid, 'doubt my parts,My knowledge too in human hearts,Should I the power of gold dispute,Which great examples might confute.I know, when nothing else prevails,Persuasive money seldom fails;That beauty too (like other wares)Its price, as well as conscience, bears._120Then marriage (as of late profess'd)Is but a money-job at best.Consent, compliance may be sold:But love's beyond the price of gold.Smugglers there are, who by retail,Expose what they call love, to sale,Such bargains are an arrant cheat:You purchase flattery and deceit.Those who true love have ever tried,(The common cares of life supplied,)_130No wants endure, no wishes make,But every real joy partake,All comfort on themselves depends;They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends.Love then hath every bliss in store:'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more.Each other every wish they give,Not to know love, is not to live.''Or love, or money,' Time replied,'Were men the question to decide,_140Would bear the prize: on both intent,My boon's neglected or misspent.'Tis I who measure vital space,And deal out years to human race.Though little prized, and seldom sought,Without me love and gold are nought.How does the miser time employ?Did I e'er see him life enjoy?By me forsook, the hoards he won,Are scattered by his lavish son._150By me all useful arts are gained;Wealth, learning, wisdom is attained.Who then would think (since such, my power)That e'er I knew an idle hour?So subtle and so swift I fly,Love's not more fugitive than I.Who hath not heard coquettes complainOf days, months, years, misspent in vain?For time misused they pine and waste,And love's sweet pleasures never taste._160Those who direct their time aright,If love or wealth their hopes excite,In each pursuit fit hours employed,And both by Time have been enjoyed.How heedless then are mortals grown!How little is their interest known?In every view they ought to mind me;For when once lost they never find me.'He spoke. The gods no more contest,And his superior gift confess'd;_170That time when (truly understood)Is the most precious earthly good.
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