I taste the carcase in the gale.
Near yonder trees, the farmer's steed,
From toil and every drudg'ry freed,
Hath groan'd his last. A dainty treat!
To birds of taste delicious meat.'
A Sexton, busy at his trade,
To hear their chat suspends his spade:
Death struck him with no farther thought,
Than merely as the fees he brought.
'Was ever two such blund'ring fowls,
In brains and manners less than owls!
Blockheads,' says he, 'learn more respect,
Know ye on whom ye thus reflect?
In this same grave (who does me right,
Must own the work is strong and tight)
The 'squire that yon fair hall possess'd,
To-night shall lay his bones at rest.
Whence could the gross mistake proceed?
The 'squire was somewhat fat indeed,
What then? the meanest bird of prey
Such want of sense could ne'er betray;
For sure some diff'rence must be found
(Suppose the smelling organ sound)
In carcases (say what we can),
Or where's the dignity of man?'
With due respect to human race,
The Ravens undertook the case;
In such similitude of scent,
Man ne'er could think reflection meant.
As epicures extol a treat,
And seem their sav'ry words to eat,
They prais'd dead horse, luxurious food,
The ven❜son of the prescient brood.
The Sexton's indignation mov'd,
The mean comparison reprov'd;
Their undiscerning palate blam'd,
Which two-legg'd carrion thus defam'd.
Reproachful speech from either side
The want of argument supplied;
They rail, revile: as often ends
The contest of disputing friends.
'Hold,' says the Fowl, 'since human pride
With confutation ne'er complied,
Let's state the case, and then refer
The knotty point: for taste may err.'
As thus he spoke, from out the mould
An Earth-worm, huge of size, unroll'd
His monstrous length. They straight agree
To choose him as their referee.
So to th' experience of his jaws,
Each states the merit of the cause.
He paus'd, and with a solemn tone
Thus made his sage opinion known:
'On carcases of ev'ry kind
This maw hath elegantly din'd;
Provok'd by luxury or need,
On beast, or fowl, or man, I feed:
Such small distinction's in the savour,
By turns I choose the fancied flavour.
Yet I must own (that human beast)
A glutton, is the rankest feast.
Man, cease this boast; for human pride
Hath various tracks to range beside.
The prince, who kept the world in awe,
The judge, whose dictate fix'd the law,
The rich, the poor, the great, the small,
Are levell'd; death confounds 'em all.
Then think not that we reptiles share
Such cates, such elegance of fare;
The only true and real good
Of man was never vermin's food:
'Tis seated in th' immortal mind;
Virtue distinguishes mankind,
And that (as yet ne'er harbour'd here)
Mounts with the soul, we know not where.
So, good man Sexton, since the case
Appears with such a dubious face,
To neither 1 the cause determine,
For diff'rent tastes please diff'rent vermin.'
IN Fable all things hold discourse:
Then Words, no doubt, must talk of course.
Once on a time, near Cannon-row,
Two hostile Adverbs, Ay and No,
Were hastening to the field of fight,
And front to front stood opposite;
Before each general join'd the van,
Ay, the more courteous knight, began:
'Stop, peevish Particle! beware!
I'm told you are not such a bear,
But sometimes yield when offer'd fair.
Suffer yon folks a while to tattle;
'Tis we who must decide the battle.
Whene'er we war on yonder stage,
With various fate and equal rage,
The nation trembles at each blow
That No gives Ay, and Ay gives No;
Yet in expensive long contention,
We gain nor office, grant, or persion.
Why then should kinsfolk quarrel thus ?
(For two of you make one of us.)
To some wise statesman let us go,
Where each his proper use may know:
He may admit two such commanders,
And make those wait who serv'd in Flanders.
Let's quarter on a great man's tongue,
A treasury-lord, not Maister Y
Obsequious at his high command,
Ay shall march forth to tax the land;
Impeachments No can best resist,
And Ay support the Civil List:
Ay, quick as Cæsar, wins the day,
And No, like Fabius, by delay,
Sometimes in mutual sly disguise,
Let Ay's seem No's, and No's seem Ay's;
Ay's be in courts denials meant,
And No's in bishops give consent.'
Thus Ay propos'd-and, for reply,
No, for the first time, answer'd'Ay!'
They parted with a thousand kisses,
And fight ere since for pay, like Swisses.
POEMS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.
RURAL SPORTS:- A GEORGIC.
You, who the sweets of rural life have known,
Despise the ungrateful hurry of the town;
In Windsor groves your easy hours employ,
And, undisturb'd, yourself and muse enjoy.
Thames listens to thy strains, and silent flows,
And no rude winds through rustling osiers blows;
While all his wondering nymphs around thee throng,
To bear the Syrens warble in thy song.
But I, who ne'er was bless'd by fortune's hand,
Nor brighten'd plough-shares in paternal land,
Long in the noisy town have been immur'd,
Respir'd its smoke, and all its cares endur'd,
Where news and politics divide mankind,
And schemes of state involve the uneasy mind;
Faction embroils the world; and every tongue
Is mov'd by flattery, or with scandal hung:
Friendship, for silvan shades, the palace flies,
Where all must yield to interest's dearer ties,
Each rival Machiavel with envy burns,
And honesty forsakes them all by turns;
While calumny upon each party's thrown,
Which both promote, and both alike disown.
Fatigu'd at last, a calm retreat I chose,
And sooth'd my harass'd mind with sweet repose,
Where fields, and shades, and the refreshing clime,
Inspire my silvan song, and prompt my rhyme.
My muse shall rove through flowery meads and plains,
And deck with rural sports her native strains,
And the same road ambitiously pursue,
Frequented by the Mantuan swain, and you.
G
'Tis not that rural sports alone invite,
But all the grateful country breathes delight;
Here blooming health exerts her gentle reign,
And strings the sinews of the industrious swain.
Soon as the morning lark salutes the day,
Through dewy fields I take my frequent way,
Where I behold the farmer's early care,
In the revolving labours of the year.
When the fresh Spring in all her state is crown'd,
And high luxuriant grass o'erspreads the ground,
The labourer with the bending scythe is seen,
Shaving the surface of the waving green,
Of all her native pride disrobes the land,
And meads lays waste before his sweeping hand;
While with the mounting sun the meadow glows,
The fading herbage round he loosely throws;
But if some sign portend a lasting shower,
Th' experienc'd swain foresees the coming hour,
His sun burnt hands the scattering fork forsake,
And ruddy damsels ply the saving rake;
In rising hills the fragrant harvest grows,
And spreads along the field in equal rows.
Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus gains,
And level rays cleave wide the thirsty plains,
When heifers seek the shade and cooling lake,
And in the middle pathway basks the snake,
O lead me, guard me from the sultry hours,
Hide me, ye forests, in your closest bowers;
Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwines,
And with the beech a mutual shade combines;
Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams,
Where bordering hazle overhangs the streams,
Whose rolling current winding round and round,
With frequent falls makes all the woods resound,
Upon the mossy couch my limbs I cast,
And even at noon the sweets of evening taste.
Here I peruse the Mantuan's Georgic strains,
And learn the labours of Italian swains;
In every page I see new landscapes rise,
And all Hesperia opens to my eyes.
I wander o'er the various rural toil,
And know the nature of each different soil:
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