Poems, chiefly pastoral By John Cunningham. The second edition. With the Addition of several pastorals and other pieces |
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 | Poems, chiefly pastoral |  |
As an Ant, of his talents superiourly vain,
Was trotting, with consequence, over the plain,
A Worm, in his progress remarkably slow,
Cry'd—“Bless your good worship wherever you go;
“I hope your great mightiness won't take it ill,
“I pay my respects with an hearty good-will.”
With a look of contempt and impertinent pride,
“Begone, you vile reptile,” his Antship replied;
“Go—go and lament your contemptible state,
“But first—look at me—see my limbs how complete;
“I guide all my motions with freedom and ease,
“Run backward and forward, and turn when I please:
“Of nature (grown weary) you shocking essay!
“I spurn you thus from me—crawl out of my way.”
Was trotting, with consequence, over the plain,
A Worm, in his progress remarkably slow,
Cry'd—“Bless your good worship wherever you go;
“I hope your great mightiness won't take it ill,
“I pay my respects with an hearty good-will.”
With a look of contempt and impertinent pride,
“Begone, you vile reptile,” his Antship replied;
“Go—go and lament your contemptible state,
“But first—look at me—see my limbs how complete;
“I guide all my motions with freedom and ease,
“Run backward and forward, and turn when I please:
“Of nature (grown weary) you shocking essay!
“I spurn you thus from me—crawl out of my way.”
24
The reptile insulted, and vext to the soul,
Crept onwards, and hid himself close in his hole;
But nature, determin'd to end his distress,
Soon sent him abroad in a Butterfly's dress.
Crept onwards, and hid himself close in his hole;
But nature, determin'd to end his distress,
Soon sent him abroad in a Butterfly's dress.
Ere long the proud Ant, as repassing the road,
(Fatigu'd from the harvest, and tugging his load)
The beau on a violet bank he beheld,
Whose vesture, in glory, a monarch's excell'd;
His plumage expanded—'twas rare to behold
So lovely a mixture of purple and gold.
(Fatigu'd from the harvest, and tugging his load)
The beau on a violet bank he beheld,
Whose vesture, in glory, a monarch's excell'd;
His plumage expanded—'twas rare to behold
So lovely a mixture of purple and gold.
The Ant quite amaz'd at a figure so gay,
Bow'd low with respect, and was trudging away.
“Stop, friend,” says the Butterfly—“don't be surpriz'd,
“I once was the reptile you spurn'd and despis'd;
“But now I can mount, in the sun-beams I play,
“While you must, for ever, drudge on in your way.”
Bow'd low with respect, and was trudging away.
“Stop, friend,” says the Butterfly—“don't be surpriz'd,
“I once was the reptile you spurn'd and despis'd;
“But now I can mount, in the sun-beams I play,
“While you must, for ever, drudge on in your way.”
| Poems, chiefly pastoral | |