FABLE XXI. The Climber:
Or, Unseasonable Raillery.
A fellow, that had climb'd a Chesnut-Tree,
Fell from the Top, and sorely bruis'd his Knee:
The Outcries he in height of Anguish made,
Call'd in the neighb'ring Peasants to his Aid.
A pleasant Wag appear'd among the rest,
Who, to divert his Sorrow with a Jest,
Said gravely, Friend, If you my Counsel take,
You shall no more such ill Elopements make;
I have a Rule, and an approv'd one too,
Which who observes, shall never fall, like you.
The Man, who thought, tho' the Advice was late,
It might prevent a more unlucky Fate;
With Thanks return'd, desir'd him to impart
The Secret of that valuable Art.
The Wag reply'd, When next you climb, my Friend,
Come down no faster than you did ascend;
Thus you shall always be from Danger free,
And if you tumble, lay the blame on me.
The MORAL.
‘Tho' most Misfortunes Men endure, proceed
‘From their too rash Attempts, and want of Heed;
‘Yet 'tis a Crime to taunt them, when distress'd,
‘And urge their Grief, by an untimely Jest:
‘For an acuter Pain is always found,
‘From Hands that Tickle, than that Probe a Wound.
