University of Virginia Library


48

XXXIII. VALOUR.

1

For free discussion of affairs of state
The Beasts a public meting held: and there
'Twas sad to her how things had lapsed of late
From bad to worse, and so degenerate were
That now the greatest rascals wer the great.
In fact the talk was such as everywhere,
Is heard at public meetings nowadays,
Where those who give most censure get most praise.

2

An Ape, much cheer'd (he chatter'd like a man)
Denounced the weakness of the government.
“Where shall we find true valour?” he began.
“Not in the craven crew we are content
To call our leaders. Let him lead who can!
Old Kingdoms tempt new conquerors. Prevent
The impending ruin of this empire old!
Tho' big, the brutes that lead us are not bold.

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3

“Or only bold to weaker beasts are they.
There is not one of them (and that they know)
Who never yet was forced to slink away,
Avoiding fight with some superior foe.
But as for that, what need of leaders, pray?
Since turning tail's a trick we all can do.
True Valour flies not, tho' the foe be strong,
Nor works, by force or fraud, another's wrong;

4

“True Valour neither seeks nor shuns to fight.
Be his the royal crown, and his alone,
In whom true Valour doth those gifts unite
Which guard a nation and endear a throne!”
The meeting would have echo'd with delight
The Ape's discourse, if, ere the Ape was done,
The Lion had not suddenly appear'd;
Whose presence was impressive, tho' uncheer'd.

5

He rose, and round him roll'd a regnant eye;
Calmly contemptuous was his ample brow;
And “What is it ye want!” he said. “If I,
The Lion, be not valorous enow,
Where's he, so valorous, that he dares defy
My power, forsooth unprized, I fain would know?

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Is not my presence fear'd by those ye fear?
What more protection need ye? I am here.

6

“Peace, babbling mouths! Not mine the fault, but theirs,
If, trusting neither in themselves nor me,
Those poor poltroons, quails, pigeons, rabbits, hares,
In panic flight to soon from danger flee.
The foe that slays the coward unawares
Is his own coward heart's timidity.
Whose presence have I ever shunn'd? or who
Hath seen me shrink, or” . . . “Cock-a-doole-do!”

7

And Doole-do!” again the red Cock cried.
The Lion, with disgust beyond control,
Shrugg'd his huge mane—shrank—falter'd—turn'd aside,
That vulgar voice, impertinently droll,
Offensive to his taste as to his pride,
Set smarting in his sensitive strong soul
A secret nerve that found there no defence
From the coarse touch of clumsy insolence.

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8

“There goes the bravest of the brave! put out,
Crow'd down!” the bald Ape jabber'd to the crowd.
The Bull, scarce knowing what 'twas all about,
With sullen stare half stupid and half pround
Had seen the dunghill bird, and heard him shout,
Heedless; but, while the hubbub wax'd more loud,
Close in the ear of him a crafty Crow
Cried, “Seize the monet, ere the moment go!

9

“The throne is vacant. Claim and take it, thou!
Address the people!” urged the black-robed bird.
“Or let me be thine orator. I know
The habits and the humours of the Herd.”
Then round the field he flew; to high and low
Persuasive spake, and counsell'd all who heard
To choose a bovine king. “For see,” he said,
“What simple tastes, and what a solid head!

10

“Mark, too, how great a following is his!
Whose Party follows him where'er he goes.
What confidence! and how deserved it is!
On party strength well-balanced States repose.
And how respectable a party this!
Republics only ripen public woes

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To fatten despots. But can aught surpass
Sound Bourgeois Rule, with bellyfuls of grass?”

11

These words the opinion of the public win.
the cautious Stag, persuaded, plumps his vote:
The Stallion'd high-bred ear at once takes in
What takes in him too: he gregarious Goat
And ruminating Ram their numerous kin
Lead to the poll; and each loud-bleating throat
Proclaims invested with supreme authority
The Bull, by right of popular majority.

12

The Fox mark'd this with ill-contented mind.
He and the crow are rivals in their trade;
Attorneys both of pettifogging kind.
hovering about the Herd, the Crow hath made
From what its foolish followers drop behind
A pretty profit; by no means afraid
To pick from nastiness appropriate food.
Nothing's too nasty to do some one good.

13

Quite otherwise is Lawyer Reynard's way.
Respectable and prosperous corporations
He hates and shuns; seeks geese that go astray;
Haunts backyards favouring nightly visitations;

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Estates ill-managed, fortunes in decay,
These are his interests, these his occupations.
Sound bourgeois rule he cannot bear at all:
Reynard's romantic and a radical.

14

“Fine doings!” mused he, “curse that prattlign Crow!
A sovereign ox, with corvine ministers?
Not yet, not people, are we sunk so low
If I can help it! Patience, civie sirs!
Better the Lion! he at least knew how
To treat affairs as only grand seigneurs
Are able,—on a large and liberal scale,
Not stooping to contemptible detail.

15

“He knew the world, and took it as it is,
Nor ask'd five legs of mutton from a sheep.
Unpinn'd to prim respectabilities,
Thro' many an awkward case he's let me creep,
And stopp'd the cackle of accusing geese;
Quashing the trial with a sovran sweep
Of his capacious and imprial paw.
A king was he, whose kingly word was law!

16

“Nor cared he for a wee mouse more or less.
In battle, we shall ne'er behold his peer.

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He wanted parliamentary address,
And that's a pity; could not bear, `tis clear,
The slightest interruption. Who would guess
The voice of any vulgar chanticleer
Could crow him down? Well, he and I were cronies,
But his day's done now. Fuimus leones!

17

“As for the Bull, well know I where to find
The heel of that Achilles! Wait awhile,
And then you'll see the dance begin! What kind
Of cant is this that fills my veins with bile,
Of royal power with civic rights combined!
Preach it to fleas, and bugs, and such canaille!
True Valour claims no corporation-clause,
But stands complete upon it own four paws.”

18

Thus musing, Master Reynard slipp'd away
By devious by-paths to a secret lair
Whre many a plot he had been wont to lay.
There now the rascal crouch'd and sniff'd the air
Till what he sought he found;—a certain gay
And greedy Gadfly, buzzing here and there
About a heap of carrion slyly stow'd
By paws felonious in that dark abode.

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19

“'Tis well to have a friend in every class,
And now and then be civil to small fry,”
The rogue laugh'd, lolling in the long dry grass;
And, having whisper'd to her, watch'd the Fly
With zealous hum about his business pass.
Then, sure of the result, indifferently
He saunter'd after to the grazing ground,
And, like a casual lounger, look'd around.

20

The Crow, meanwhile, with a triumphant caw,
Was leading up the loyal deputation
Charged to present the crown, expound the law,
And hail the elected monarch of the nation.
the Bull, with unconcern his subjects saw,
But, graciously acception their ovation,
Stoop'd, to receive the crown, his stolid head;
When lo! he shook, he shrank, he turn'd, he fled.

21

He fled! hsi eye, bewilder'd, sought all round
Some unseen formidable foe: he fled
Just in the crowning moment: fled uncrown'd:
Without the least word of dismissal said
To his amazed admirers. On the ground
Stamping, and butting with an aimless head,

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Off scamper'd, with him, all his Party too.
Tho' why, or where, not one of them quite knew.

22

“There goes the second of the Sons of Fame!”
the scall'd Ape snicker'd to the gaping crowd.
“Did not I tell you? they are all the same!
Like this Goliath by a Gadfly cow'd,
a swarm of Bees Sir Bruin overcame.
Each hath his master, look he ne'er so proud.
Again I ask—look round you left and right,
Where is the chief incapable of flight?”

23

“I know the chief that never fled; and know,
Where now he dwells, the bravest of the brave!”
This voice came, sudden, from a wither'd bought
Where perch'd in pomp a Parot gray and grave.
Much had he travell'd' much with high and low
Had mix'd; and learn'd the world; and seem'd to have
In every land where he had been a ranger
The world's respect: half citizen, half stranger.

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Seldom he spake. Much given to thought he seem'd.
No public office had he ever held;

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But, when he oped his beack, all listeners deem'd
That they had heard an oracle of eld.
Sedate his mien; and all his language teem'd
With sage enigmas: none its menaing spell'd:
All praised it mor efor that. So judgments go.
Omne ignotum pro magnifico!

25

Yet was this Parrot (the plain truth to own)
At bottom an impostor, rake, and kanve;
Who in himself had selfishly lived down
That love of freedom born in bosoms brave;
Which he regarded as the cause and crown
Of all the ills that mortal life enslave.
“For what's life worth,” he thought, “if day by day
The worth of life wear life itself away?

26

“The tree that's not contented to be wood
Doth all its strength to its own damage put,
In bringing forth what brings the tree no good;
Since others pluck the apple and the nut,
And each fool's toil but turns him into food
For other mouths, whose greed its gettigns glut.
Why plague one's sould, a plaguy world to please?
Life's only fruit worth growing is life's ease.

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Per Bacco!” (He had been in Italy)
“Give me the golden cage that I can quit
Whene'er I will because men know that I,
No fool, am sure to turn again to it!
Caramba!” (and in Spain) “where'er I fly
I find but folk that seem for Bedlam fit.
Oh, que les bêtes sont bêtes!” (and he had been
In France, where things worth seeing he had seen:

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Republics one and indivisible,
But more than one, and all divided; ending
In master-strokes of state, whereby they fell;
And empires that were peace, on war depending;
And constitutions that for shot and shell
Were constituted marks, when past all mending;
Cooks, captains, orators, mobs, proclamations,
And demi-worlds for demi-reputations).

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Oh, que les bêtes sont bêtes! 'Tis pitiable!
Cannot they see how easily mankind
May be enslaved by any beast that's able,
With just a show of serving men, to bind
Men to its bestial service? Stall and stable
Where cow and horse their cared-for comfort find,

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What beast but man would build for horse and cow?
Or in their service sweat his boasted brow?

30

“And all for what? a little milk from one;
Or leave the other's body to bestride,
Who in man's seeming service (which is none)
Doth only what his pleasure 'tis, and pride,
To do when free—trot, gallop, leap, and run!
For me, the fools a glittering house provide,
That's finer than their own, a dome of gold,
Because I call them bitter names, and scold!

31

Cospetto! and what brainless brutes be these
Who seek a master simply to be free!
When they might get them, if they did but please,
A servant, whose sole business it would be
To emancipate them from the miseries
Of freedom!” Perch'd upon his wither'd tree
Whilst thus the Parrot mused, the Beasts below him
Roar'd, “Lead us to our leader! name him! show him!”

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“He!” the grey mocker slowly made reply,
“The bravest of the brave, whose name ye ask,

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Retired he dwells, in that obscurity
Which ofttimes wraps the unrequited task
True Merit ever is content to ply.
For Fame is but a hollow-sounding mask
Which to the crowd reëchoes its own voice,
And thence comes praise or blame, by chance, not choice.

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“Retired he dwells: remote, serene, alone:
Firm as the far-off rock where he abides:
Calm, tho' around him stormy waters roll:
No base ambition in his soul resides:
By force or fraud, he wrongs not any one:
Yet never, never, whatsoe'er betides,
Doth flinch a hair's-breadth from the fiercest foe.”
“Long live our leader!” roar'd the Beasts below.

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“His name! his name!” The Parrot from the tree
Perch'd on whose blighted bough he sat sedate
With curious scrutiny observed the glee
Of those beneath him; slowly scratch'd his pate;
Rough'd all his feathers; seemed, awhile, to be
O'erwhelm'd in thought profound, deliberate
As one who weighs each word against objection;
Then answer'd, with emphatic circumspection,

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“Are ye resolved (think once and twice again!)
To test true valour by the trial set
To those whose vaunted valour ye disdain,
And hold him bravest of the brave, who yet
By force, or fraud, hath never spoil'd, or slain,
Another; but whom never foeman, met
In fiercest fight, hath ever forced to flee?”
“Speak to the point!” the crowd cried. “Who is he?

36

“Name him! where is he? question us no more!
'Tis thee we question. Give us plain replies.
He, only he, is worthy to reign o'er
Those who to Valour have decreed the prize!”
The rest was one enthusiastic roar.
A twinkle glitter'd in the wily eyes
Of that grey trifler, whilst for prudent flight
He spread his wings, and scream'd, with grim delight,

37

“Ridiculous and cowardly canaille!
Who jeer and flout the fine infirmities
Of noble minds! whose natures mean and vile
The Lion's courage, the Bull's strength despise,
And sneer at all ye cannot reconcile
With trite decorums! who can claim your prize?
No creature ever known to run or royster.
Ye bid me name your chief? I name the Oyster!”
 

It is an old popular belief that the lion cannot bear the crow of the cock. Schiller alludes to it in his Wallensteins Lager. the sergeant says of the great Friedlander—

“. . . When the cock crows he starts thereat.”
To which the Jäger replies—
He's one and the same with the lion in that.”