The Works of John Hall-Stevenson ... Corrected and Enlarged. With Several Original Poems, Now First Printed, and Explanatory Notes. In Three Volumes |
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 | The Works of John Hall-Stevenson |  |
191
FABLE I. THE RESIGNATION .
A certain house swarmed with huge Rats,Traps, poison failed, baits they touched none;
An able chief amongst the Cats
Picked them up slily one by one.
All Libertines that stayed out late,
All vagabonds, shared the same fate;
This rous'd the Hanoverian breed ,
It grew to be a serious case;
If he was suffer'd to proceed,
He would extinguish the whole race.
A vote ensu'd, an order pass'd,
A proclamation for a fast.
Pursuant to their resolution,
They watch'd and pray'd, entrench'd like moles,
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Studied to draw them from their holes.
He knew 'twas folly to pretend
To act the patriot, or the friend.
What people wish they soon believe,
The Cat fell sick , and took his bed;
He formed his project to deceive,
By lying down and seeming dead;
He shut his eyes, his breath held in,
Stretch'd out and streight,
He lay in state,
Just like a cat, worth nothing but his skin.
He cannot long continue so,
Says an old sage, stir not from hence;
This dying comes too à propos,
To be aught else than a pretence.
The wiser sort maintain'd their ground;
Grimalkin, baffled for this bout,
Rose from the dead, and with a bound
Rais'd the blockade, and let them out.
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That sally'd forth, paid for their peeping.
Even thus, according to report,
Edward's Grimalkin left his post;
Or, in the language of the court,
Thus Gaveston gave up the ghost.
And though the subtile Gascoon lord
Assur'd the barons he was dead;
The barons would not take his word,
Till they had taken off his head.
The court declar'd him dead in law,
And some weak folks bit at the show;
But found that his contracted paw
Retir'd to strike the surer blow.—
Cats seldom die a natural death,
As seldom favourites resign
Naturally, without design,
Till they resign their forfeit breath.
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FABLE II. The DOCTOR and STUDENT.
A lobster, by a strange mistake,
Scrap'd an acquaintance with a Snake;
To learn his suppleness and arts,
He boarded at the serpent's house;
Lobsters have not the quickest parts,
Arm'd cap-a-pee without much νους.
Scrap'd an acquaintance with a Snake;
To learn his suppleness and arts,
He boarded at the serpent's house;
Lobsters have not the quickest parts,
Arm'd cap-a-pee without much νους.
The Doctor, not the least afraid,
Although he knew, Lob was audacious;
Long'd much to try what could be made
Out of a head-piece so testaceous;
All that a soldier can possess
He oft repeated with a smile,
With strength and courage, is address,
In other words a little guile;
As yet you are but raw, I see,
Though far beyond your A B C;
The best advice that I can give,
A sentiment for Kings to drink;
Let every one, not only live
According to his rank, but think.
You have a comprehensive mind,
Lobsters ought not to think like oisters;
They were not made to be confin'd,
And spend their days like them in cloisters;
To stand when they should stir and bustle,
Gaping and studying like a muscle.
Cadmus preferr'd, in all his lectures,
Facts and experience to conjectures;
Lobsters, by an instinctive force,
Act selfishly, without design;
Their feelings commonly are coarse,
Their honour always superfine.
Unfeeling, resolute, and cool,
But tutor'd in the serpent lore,
Lob grew, by taking pains at school,
Ten times more selfish than before;
Serpentine doubts and conscious fear
Were hourly whispering in his ear,
“That friend of yours so dark and sly,
“Will sacrifice you in the end;
“Bravely exert yourself and try
“To be before-hand with your friend.”
'Twas what he often try'd, but found,
Instead of gaining, he lost ground;
Perhaps his brain was too much strain'd,
Too weak to hold all it contain'd;
So through some little crack or chink
His plots were smelt, and soon detected;
Like snuffers cramm'd, that, by their stink,
Betray the snuffs they have collected.
But time and fortitude at last
Paid him for all his patience past;
One day he enter'd without rapping,
And caught the wary Cadmus napping:
Lob scarce could credit what he saw,
Finding him coil'd, and fast asleep,
Fatigued with meditations deep,
He choak'd his master with his claw.—
Now ponder well, and be severe,
Look sharp for some smart application;
'Twill fit both Commoner and Peer,
If you have any provocation;
Whether a Courtier, Statesman, or a Cit,
Throughout you'll find some famous Biter bit.
Although he knew, Lob was audacious;
Long'd much to try what could be made
Out of a head-piece so testaceous;
All that a soldier can possess
He oft repeated with a smile,
With strength and courage, is address,
In other words a little guile;
As yet you are but raw, I see,
Though far beyond your A B C;
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A sentiment for Kings to drink;
Let every one, not only live
According to his rank, but think.
You have a comprehensive mind,
Lobsters ought not to think like oisters;
They were not made to be confin'd,
And spend their days like them in cloisters;
To stand when they should stir and bustle,
Gaping and studying like a muscle.
Cadmus preferr'd, in all his lectures,
Facts and experience to conjectures;
Lobsters, by an instinctive force,
Act selfishly, without design;
Their feelings commonly are coarse,
Their honour always superfine.
Unfeeling, resolute, and cool,
But tutor'd in the serpent lore,
Lob grew, by taking pains at school,
Ten times more selfish than before;
Serpentine doubts and conscious fear
Were hourly whispering in his ear,
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“Will sacrifice you in the end;
“Bravely exert yourself and try
“To be before-hand with your friend.”
'Twas what he often try'd, but found,
Instead of gaining, he lost ground;
Perhaps his brain was too much strain'd,
Too weak to hold all it contain'd;
So through some little crack or chink
His plots were smelt, and soon detected;
Like snuffers cramm'd, that, by their stink,
Betray the snuffs they have collected.
But time and fortitude at last
Paid him for all his patience past;
One day he enter'd without rapping,
And caught the wary Cadmus napping:
Lob scarce could credit what he saw,
Finding him coil'd, and fast asleep,
Fatigued with meditations deep,
He choak'd his master with his claw.—
Now ponder well, and be severe,
Look sharp for some smart application;
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If you have any provocation;
Whether a Courtier, Statesman, or a Cit,
Throughout you'll find some famous Biter bit.
198
FABLE III. THE NIGHTINGALE.
A nightingale, in her retreat,Exerted all her native powers;
Compos'd and sung plaintively sweet,
To charm the silent hours.
A hungry Hawk in ambush lay,
And seiz'd the hapless songster for his prey;
The warbling Victim tried in vain
To melt a cruel tyrant's heart;
Proof against every moving strain,
Of nature or of art.
Charmer, said he, I wait too long,
Hawks require food more solid than a song:
Then with a villain's smile he struck
The loveliest tenant of the wood;
In her poor heart his beak he stuck,
Rioting in her vital blood.
Listen, ye fair ones, to my lay,
Your ways with trembling caution mark!
How many virgins fall a prey,
To some base murderer in the dark.
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Add to the brutal fire fresh fuel;
Deaf to compassion, dead to shame,
Selfishness is always cruel.
Ye candid souls, whose pulses beat
With no distemper'd selfish heat,
View here again a wretch oppress'd,
And heaven and earth in vain implor'd;
Robb'd of his property and rest,
Devour'd by a rapacious Lord.—
When Avarice and Power unblushing meet,
Woe to the humble Neighbour of the Great.
200
FABLE IV. THE BLACK BIRD
In concert with the curfew bell,An Owl was chaunting vespers in his cell;
Upon the outside of the wall,
A Black Bird, famous in that age,
From a bow-window in the hall,
Hung dangling in a wicker cage;
Instead of psalmody and pray'rs,
Like those good children of St. Francis;
He seculariz'd all his airs,
And took delight in wanton fancies.
Whilst the bell toll'd, and the Owl chaunted,
Every thing was calm and still;
All nature seem'd wrapt and enchanted,
Except the querulous, unthankful rill;
Unaw'd by this imposing scene,
Our Black Bird the enchantment broke;
Flourish'd a sprightly air between,
And whistled the Black Joke.
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Set nature in a gayer light;
Quite over-turn'd the Monks devotion,
And scatter'd all the gloom of night.
I have been taught in early youth,
By an expert Metaphysician;
That ridicule's the test of truth,
And only match for superstition.
Imposing rogues, with looks demure,
At Rome keep all the world in awe;
Wit is profane, learning impure,
And reasoning against the law;
Between two tapers and a book,
Upon a dresser clean and neat,
Behold a sacerdatol Cook,
Cooking a dish of heavenly meat!
How fine he curtsies! Make your bow,
Thump your breast soundly, beat your poll;
Lo! he has toss'd up a ragout,
To fill the belly of your soul.
Even here there are some holy men
Would fain lead people by the nose;
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Benevolently interpose.
My good Lord Bishop, Mr. Dean,
You shall get nothing by your spite;
Tristram shall whistle at your spleen,
And put Hypocrisy to flight.
203
FABLE V. POUR MOI MEME.
Within a Joiner's shop upon a stool,With countenance serene and grave;
A Cat examin'd every tool,
As nicely as Rousseau's Elève.
A File that understood its trade,
Provok'd her Ladyship past bearing;
Observing the great waste it made,
By clipping artfully and paring.
I'll serve you your own way, you knave,
For that, says Puss, let me alone;
I'll lick you with my tongue, you slave,
Till I have lick'd you to the bone.
She lick'd till her whole tongue was flead,
And laugh'd to see the villain bleed;
With blood he was all over red:
Determining the File to kill,
The Cat lick'd on, believing still
It was the File, and not her tongue, that bled.
204
My Groom, my Butler, the whole Corps,
Are objects to vent spleen upon,
Whene'er the bileous pot boils o'er;
But I'll grow better when I'm able,
To fume and fret is not worth while.
I am the Cat that bleeds in fable,
My Family—th' unfeeling File.
205
FABLE VI. THE TORTOISE.
Creatures made chiefly for defenceAre seldom overstock'd with sense.
A Tortoise once, a military Beau,
Hardy to give the beast his due,
Walk'd to and fro' solemnly slow,
Like Prussians at a review
Completely arm'd from head to tail,
Proof against either cut or stab;
As full of blubber as a Whale,
With brains no better than a Crab.
Suppose ambition was inclin'd,
To captivate his torpid mind,
What could she do with such a mass?
All that she could propose at most,
Would be to lead him to some pass,
And leave him standing like a post.
But if conceit, instead of her,
Should make a puncture in his breast;
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And labour to outdo the best.
And thus accordingly, one day,
Busy and rolling in his way,
Upon his axis like a Porpoise;
I mean contemplating himself;
Conceit came like a fairy elf,
And took possession of my Tortoise.
Under a rock the formal fop,
With reconnoitring air and state,
Observ'd an airy near the top,
And saw an Eagle at the gate.
Eagle, the Coxcomb cries, descend,
I hate both grotto and alcove;
Be it my glory to attend,
And emulate the bird of Jove.
I feel all feathery and light,
Flush'd with warm vigour from fresh springs;
Descend, and mount me out of sight,
Consign me then to my own wings.
The Eagle lighted on the plain,
Arguments of all shapes he try'd;
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Some were too strait, and some too wide.
Hard by, upon a thistly bed,
An aged Ass repos'd, half dead;
'Tis nought but Hypocondriac pride,
The fumes that laziness has bred;
Before you try to fly, he cry'd,
Hop over that old Ass's head.
The fool, like all in that condition,
Always flew out at opposition.
Alas! what pains poor envy takes,
The flimsy cap that she puts on
Is too transparent, says the Don,
To hide her execrable snakes;
Stung to the soul with this reproach,
The Eagle bade the sot approach;
And, mounting him as high as he could soar,
Now ply your wings, said he, 'tis time,
Whether you nobly chuse to climb,
To fall like light'ning, or to sweep the shore.
He spoke, down dropp'd the Tortoise plum,
With an explosion like a bomb;
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His armour, once as hard as brass,
Lay like a heap of broken glass,
Lying upon a heap of jelly.
Such I have met with in my walk,
Tortoises of distinguish'd air,
Creeping about to ask a talk,
At Bloomsbury or Grosvenor square.
They all are persons of great skill,
They know what's fittest to be done;
Landmen or Seamen, as they will,
And Statesmen every mother's son;
They can compose with their own hands
All civil broils, all foreign jars;
Not one of them but understands
The disciplines of wars.
Let but the Royal Eagle take him,
Take any one, and mount him high;
No arguments on earth can shake him;
They all believe that they can fly.
But, if he drops him, down he goes,
And makes a pudding for the crows.
209
FABLE VII. THE COOK .
Æsop is always a new book,Æsop in a judicious hand;
But 'tis in vain on it to look,
Without the grace to understand.
Pleasant his fables are indeed,
Profound, ingenious, and sly;
Fables that infancy may read,
Maturity alone apply.
A Cook was busy with his battery;
Two sycophants, two knaves, I mean,
Sat by, and play'd with red hot flattery,
Against the battery Cuisine.
Both engineers by profession,
Their flattery was so well planted,
They soon dismounted his discretion,
Which was the only point they wanted;
210
Larded his fowls, barded his larks;
As he had other fish to fry,
He left the field to my two sparks;
And, whilst he slash'd and carbonnaded,
Stewed and hash'd, and gasconnaded,
A Fish of a superb appearance
Vanish'd from the kitchen table,
Made a confusion worse than Babel;
One of those fish, miscall'd by some,
In which St. Peter us'd to deal;
Stamp'd for himself, with his own thumb,
The ancient Piscatory Seal.
Therefore let Peter have the glory,
Let us to him ascribe the Dorys;
Call it not John but Peter Dory,
Given Sub Sigillo Piscatoris.
Advancing to the chopping block,
Peace, cry'd the Cook, your clamours cease;
Then with his cleaver gave a knock,
And all the Kitchen was at peace.
211
No Cat comes here, I'll take my oath;
Therefore it must be one or t'other;
He quite forgot, it might be both.
I have it not, the Thief reply'd,
I stole it not, cried the Receiver;
Both swore, protested, and deny'd,
And so the Cook laid down his cleaver.
The case seem'd so perplex'd and odd,
And the Cook's thoughts were so divided;
All three referr'd the case to God,
And there it rests till he decide it.—
Now from this Fable it appears,
Or from this Fable I surmise;
Some folks give credit to their ears,
When they should scarce believe their eyes.
This foolish Cook puts me in mind
Of the most dupeable of nations;
Busy and active; but resign'd
To flattery on all occasions:—
And so, because my moral's stale,
I'll close my Fable with a Tale.
Alludes to the supposed union between Lord Chatham and Lord Bute, in the autumn of 1763 and summer of 1766.
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A TALE.
How many years it was ago,To ascertain I don't engage;
Nor in what reign; I only know
It happen'd in the Golden Age.
Upon the record thus it stands:—
Two worthy Ministers combin'd,
To play into each other's hands,
To cheat and puzzle all mankind.
The silly people were cajol'd;
And all their tricks went glibly down:
At length one of them grew so bold,
He laid his hands upon the crown;
And, with more bravery than labour,
Handed it to his crafty neighbour.
When you say Crown, you often mean
The owner, whether King or Queen;
In such a case you may believe,
The Priests would pray, the Laymen swear,
A few would laugh, and some would grieve,
And many want to hang this pair.
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I steal! cries Will , a likely thing!
Stolen or stray'd, however gone,
It was not I that stole your King.
Thus us'd to puzzle and confound them,
This nation's fury soon was past;
The people left them as they found them,
Forc'd to appeal to Heaven at last.
Fortune was seldom known so cross;
Few disappointments are completer:
To lose their King was a great loss;
Not to recover him a greater.
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FABLE VIII .
A Nonpareil, an Apple Tree ,A Commoner, haughty and proud ,
And a Pome-granate, a Grandee ,
One day disputed hard and loud:
I am the Favourite of the nation,
The Apple said, that's a plain case;
I know your rank and occupation,
And laugh'd in the Pomegranate's face;
My merit's known to all mankind,
I never courted your choice spirits;
Your noble virtues are confin'd,
Few people know your latent merits;
Nor know your Virtues, like the Beaver's,
Lie in your seminal Receivers.
A Bramble , sneaking like a rogue,
Out of a hedge, and out of sight;
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Be Freends, and let us aw Unite.
When the Great quarrel, the small Fry,
Stir, and affect important vigour;
Then Æsop says, the Ciphers try,
But never can make any figure.
| The Works of John Hall-Stevenson | |