Truth in Fiction Or, Morality in Masquerade. A Collection of Two hundred twenty five Select Fables of Aesop, and other Authors. Done into English Verse. By Edmund Arwaker |
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| LXII. | FABLE LXII. The City Mouse and Country Mouse: |
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 | Truth in Fiction |  |
FABLE LXII. The City Mouse and Country Mouse:
Or, Quiet, the best Fare.
Tir'd with the Noise and Hurry of the Town,
(That scarce wou'd let him call his Life his own)
A Cockney Mouse, that wou'd relax his Care,
Walk'd to the Fields, to breath the Country Air;
And, in his Tour, encountred on the Road,
A Rural Mouse, near his retir'd Abode.
The wondring Rustick, who had never seen
A Mouse of so improv'd an Air and Mien;
To the gay Cit, with such Respect did bow,
As his more homely Breeding wou'd allow;
And pray'd him, since he came to view the Fields,
To tast the mean Repasts their Bounty yields.
The civil Stranger readily agreed,
And to the Farmer's Cottage they proceed.
(That scarce wou'd let him call his Life his own)
A Cockney Mouse, that wou'd relax his Care,
Walk'd to the Fields, to breath the Country Air;
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A Rural Mouse, near his retir'd Abode.
The wondring Rustick, who had never seen
A Mouse of so improv'd an Air and Mien;
To the gay Cit, with such Respect did bow,
As his more homely Breeding wou'd allow;
And pray'd him, since he came to view the Fields,
To tast the mean Repasts their Bounty yields.
The civil Stranger readily agreed,
And to the Farmer's Cottage they proceed.
Beneath a Hill the quiet Mansion stood,
Shelter'd from Winds by a surrounding Wood;
On either hand a double Quick-set grew,
And made a fair and graceful Avenue:
Through which a pleasing Visto did invite,
And to the distant House direct the Sight:
Before the Front a Brook ran gently by,
Its Surface clear as the reflected Sky:
Parterrs and Grass-plots did the Court divide,
Where Nature Art's best Mimickry defy'd.
Shelter'd from Winds by a surrounding Wood;
On either hand a double Quick-set grew,
And made a fair and graceful Avenue:
Through which a pleasing Visto did invite,
And to the distant House direct the Sight:
Before the Front a Brook ran gently by,
Its Surface clear as the reflected Sky:
Parterrs and Grass-plots did the Court divide,
Where Nature Art's best Mimickry defy'd.
When here they were arriv'd, the Stranger-Mouse,
By his kind Host, was usher'd to the House:
It was a Grott, beneath a Chesnut made,
Whose Fruit and Branches serv'd for Food and Shade:
The spreading Root was its protecting Roof,
And kept it Water-fast, and Weather-proof.
The Hall, with Arms (o'erspread with antique Dust)
Was grac'd; as they with venerable Rust:
Those to the Field his brave Fore-fathers brought,
When their fam'd Battle with the Frogs they fought:
And the rich Work of Mortlack's finest Loom,
Describ'd the Action in the Dining-room.
Here Good-man Delver reach'd his Guest a Seat,
And begg'd his Patience 'till he fetch'd the Meat.
The Hospitable Hind, who thought his Guest
Too great and squeamish for a common Feast,
Ransack'd each corner of his choicest Hoard,
And loaded with Varieties the Board.
First came a Scrap of Bacon's sooty Rind,
Serv'd up with Beans and Peas of ev'ry kind:
Next a Potatoe, whose inviting Meat
Wou'd make the Gods wish they were Mice to eat:
Then part of a Hog's Seam, whose Tast and Smell
Did ev'n delicious Candle-Ends excell:
Then Nuts, and Bullace, Crabs, and Mouldy Cheese,
For a Dissert that might their Teeth ungrease.
When these were on the cover'd Table plac'd,
The Host desir'd his courtly Guest to tast;
And if his Worship cou'd digest such Fare,
He hop'd he wou'd fall to, and never spare.
The Citizen (made, by high-feeding, nice)
Thought those mean Cates too coarse for Cockney-Mice;
And scarce wou'd touch the Bits his hearty Friend
Did to his dainty Palate recommend:
But thus bespoke him; Sir, I much admire
That to this lonely Seat you can retire:
And ignorant of those dear Pleasures live,
Which we more happy Citizens receive:
Our Joys are too sublime to be express'd;
Each Day's a Festival, each Meal a Feast:
Leave then, my Friend, this homely Place and Fare,
And to the Town, the blissful Town, repair;
There you will find the Centre of Delight,
And (us'd to that) what now you value, slight.
The Yeoman, ravish'd with this large Report,
Resolv'd to live no longer Alamort;
But to the City wou'd the 'Squire attend,
And there his Days in Mirth and Revels spend.
By his kind Host, was usher'd to the House:
It was a Grott, beneath a Chesnut made,
Whose Fruit and Branches serv'd for Food and Shade:
The spreading Root was its protecting Roof,
And kept it Water-fast, and Weather-proof.
The Hall, with Arms (o'erspread with antique Dust)
Was grac'd; as they with venerable Rust:
Those to the Field his brave Fore-fathers brought,
When their fam'd Battle with the Frogs they fought:
And the rich Work of Mortlack's finest Loom,
Describ'd the Action in the Dining-room.
Here Good-man Delver reach'd his Guest a Seat,
And begg'd his Patience 'till he fetch'd the Meat.
The Hospitable Hind, who thought his Guest
Too great and squeamish for a common Feast,
86
And loaded with Varieties the Board.
First came a Scrap of Bacon's sooty Rind,
Serv'd up with Beans and Peas of ev'ry kind:
Next a Potatoe, whose inviting Meat
Wou'd make the Gods wish they were Mice to eat:
Then part of a Hog's Seam, whose Tast and Smell
Did ev'n delicious Candle-Ends excell:
Then Nuts, and Bullace, Crabs, and Mouldy Cheese,
For a Dissert that might their Teeth ungrease.
When these were on the cover'd Table plac'd,
The Host desir'd his courtly Guest to tast;
And if his Worship cou'd digest such Fare,
He hop'd he wou'd fall to, and never spare.
The Citizen (made, by high-feeding, nice)
Thought those mean Cates too coarse for Cockney-Mice;
And scarce wou'd touch the Bits his hearty Friend
Did to his dainty Palate recommend:
But thus bespoke him; Sir, I much admire
That to this lonely Seat you can retire:
And ignorant of those dear Pleasures live,
Which we more happy Citizens receive:
Our Joys are too sublime to be express'd;
Each Day's a Festival, each Meal a Feast:
Leave then, my Friend, this homely Place and Fare,
And to the Town, the blissful Town, repair;
There you will find the Centre of Delight,
And (us'd to that) what now you value, slight.
The Yeoman, ravish'd with this large Report,
Resolv'd to live no longer Alamort;
But to the City wou'd the 'Squire attend,
And there his Days in Mirth and Revels spend.
Soon they the despicable Cave forsook,
And the directest Way to London took;
Where Cit led gazing Bumkin to a House
Enough to daunt a simple Country Mouse;
Such Finery he ne'er before had seen,
And thought he there, at least, in Heav'n had been.
Into the Larder, undiscern'd, they crept,
And there absconded 'till the People slept:
When all was quiet, each forsook his Hole,
And to the Shelves, to taste the Viands, stole:
But there such tempting Dishes did abound,
As did poor Country's dubious Choice confound:
There was Goose, Turky, Capon, Pig, and Veal,
Duck, Plover, Pigeon, Partridge, Snipe and Teal;
Tarts, Cheese-cakes, Custards, Jellies, Tongues and Ham,
(The Ladies fair Pretence to take a Dram)
With Pyramids of Sweet-meats, rais'd so high
They might almost with those of Memphis vie.
Now Peasant, like a Farmer, feeds and gluts,
And thinks he ne'er shall fill his craving Guts.
But as they feast, they hear the Door unlock'd;
Which dampt their Pleasure, and their Courage shock'd;
The Cook was coming, with his wonted Care,
To see no Cat or Dog was skulking there:
He found the Coast was clear, and soon retir'd,
While Bamkin, with the fright, almost expir'd:
But bolder Cit call'd his Companion out,
And bid him rally, and take t'other bout.
But trembling Rustick, hardly past his fear,
Ask'd him, if such Alarms were frequent there?
Cockney reply'd, He had them ev'ry Night,
But did the Danger, since familiar, slight:
He had a thousand times a Night been scar'd,
And still, for shelter, to his Hole repair'd.
And the directest Way to London took;
Where Cit led gazing Bumkin to a House
Enough to daunt a simple Country Mouse;
87
And thought he there, at least, in Heav'n had been.
Into the Larder, undiscern'd, they crept,
And there absconded 'till the People slept:
When all was quiet, each forsook his Hole,
And to the Shelves, to taste the Viands, stole:
But there such tempting Dishes did abound,
As did poor Country's dubious Choice confound:
There was Goose, Turky, Capon, Pig, and Veal,
Duck, Plover, Pigeon, Partridge, Snipe and Teal;
Tarts, Cheese-cakes, Custards, Jellies, Tongues and Ham,
(The Ladies fair Pretence to take a Dram)
With Pyramids of Sweet-meats, rais'd so high
They might almost with those of Memphis vie.
Now Peasant, like a Farmer, feeds and gluts,
And thinks he ne'er shall fill his craving Guts.
But as they feast, they hear the Door unlock'd;
Which dampt their Pleasure, and their Courage shock'd;
The Cook was coming, with his wonted Care,
To see no Cat or Dog was skulking there:
He found the Coast was clear, and soon retir'd,
While Bamkin, with the fright, almost expir'd:
But bolder Cit call'd his Companion out,
And bid him rally, and take t'other bout.
But trembling Rustick, hardly past his fear,
Ask'd him, if such Alarms were frequent there?
Cockney reply'd, He had them ev'ry Night,
But did the Danger, since familiar, slight:
He had a thousand times a Night been scar'd,
And still, for shelter, to his Hole repair'd.
Nay then, quoth Clod pate, feast alone, for me;
I of your City never will be Free:
Since a poor Mouse can't here in quiet eat,
But such Incursions fright him from his Meat;
I'll to my Cave, from this lewd Town, repair,
And, with less Danger, feast on meaner Fate.
I of your City never will be Free:
Since a poor Mouse can't here in quiet eat,
But such Incursions fright him from his Meat;
I'll to my Cave, from this lewd Town, repair,
And, with less Danger, feast on meaner Fate.
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The MORAL.
‘An humble Station is a safe Retreat‘From all the Toils and Dangers of the Great:
‘Nature with this do's favour'd Mortals bless,
‘Wou'd they but value what they might possess:
‘But they, by Pride and Avarice, misled,
‘Affect their Ruin, and their Safety dread:
‘Vainly to Honour, and to Wealth, aspire,
‘'Till in the rash Pursuit themselves they tire;
‘And find, when they the wish'd Acquest enjoy,
‘What shou'd consummate, do's their Bliss destroy.
‘So lofty Tow'rs the rage of Storms endure,
‘From which the lowly Cottage stands secure:
‘In those, the Guests impending Mischief fear,
‘And Lusts, and Disappointments, spoil their Chear:
‘In this, the Owner solid Joys acquires,
‘While Reason bounds, and answers his Desires.
| Truth in Fiction | |