The Poetical Works of Addison; Gay's Fables; and Somerville's Chase Part 32

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?

_140 Should 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 b.i.t.c.h was in the wind.

_150 By 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?

_160 Pray 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.

_170 But 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.

FABLE VII.

THE COUNTRYMAN AND JUPITER.

TO MYSELF.

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-p.r.o.ne 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 frown Still 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) resigned Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind?

If these are scruples, give her o'er; Write, practise morals, and be poor.

_20 The 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 h.o.a.rded 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?

_30 Suppose 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) find With 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, _40 Might swell your debts: then, l.u.s.t of play No regal income can defray.

Sunk is all credit, writs a.s.sail, 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, _50 Could 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 G.o.ds!' he cries, ''tis hard to bear This 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 G.o.ds offend.

_70 If 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 G.o.d; 'first learn to know True happiness from outward show.

This optic gla.s.s 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 antic.i.p.ates disgrace: _90 With 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, _100 On him what happiness attends, Who thus rewards his grateful friends!'

'First take the gla.s.s,' the G.o.d replies: 'Man views the world with partial eyes.'

'Good G.o.ds!' 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, _110 Now avarice with insatiate jaws, Now rapine with her harpy claws His bosom tears. His conscious breast Groans, 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 inflame His hopes with thirst of spoil and fame, _130 The 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 pet.i.tion.

_140 When thus the G.o.d: '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.

FABLE VIII.

THE MAN, THE CAT, THE DOG, AND THE FLY.

TO MY NATIVE COUNTRY.

Hail, happy land, whose fertile grounds The 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 (intent His private treasures to augment) Corrupt thy state. If jealous foes Thy rights of commerce dare oppose, _10 Shall not thy fleets their rapine awe?

Who is't prescribes the ocean law?