FABLE XXVIII. The Lion disarm'd:
Or, Virtue suppress'd by Fortune.
While a young Lion, just arriv'd at Age,
To hunt for Prey, and vent his gen'rous Rage,
Made his first Essay in pursuit of Spoil,
He lost his Freedom in a Hunter's Toil.
The Man, who there his struggling Captive found,
Took the Advantage, while he had him bound;
And (to disarm his dreaded Mouth and Paws)
Beat out his Teeth, and cut away his Claws:
Then the disabl'd Brute, in scorn, releas'd,
To spend his harmless Fury where he pleas'd.
The Gallant Savage, that did still retain
The Native Impress of his Noble Strain;
(For that no Rage of Fortune cou'd erase,
No barb'rous Hand its Characters deface)
By that, to great, to bold Attempts, was led,
That as a Lion shou'd, he might be fed.
By Courage prompted, he large Beasts assails;
(But what can Courage do, when Power fails?)
His toothless Jaws, and Paws disarm'd, they dare,
His Weakness scorn, and wage Offensive War.
He roars, and lashes his stern Sides in vain,
In vain he swells, and raves, with just Disdain;
He on no Beasts, but of ignoble Breed,
Defenceless Lambs, and tim'rous Hares, can feed:
Restrain'd from Prey of a more bulky Size,
He's forc'd to stoop to what he do's despise.
The MORAL.
‘Aspiring Souls, to great Attempts enclin'd,
‘But in mean Fortune's humble Bounds confin'd;
‘Make vain Efforts to soar a lofty Height,
‘While such unkind Restraints suppress their Flight.
‘Virtue, obstructed by a low Estate,
‘It self can very rarely extricate;
‘Whenever to exert her Power she tries,
‘The Burthen clogs, and will not let her rise:
‘She can't to her exalted Centre flie,
‘But, kept below, below must grov'ling lie.
‘So Birds, tho' Wing'd by Nature, and by Age,
‘Pine out their Lives, imprison'd in a Cage;
‘Against whose Sides themselves they rashly bruise,
‘When they their Native Freedom strive to use:
‘Which, since their close Confinement do's restrain,
‘In Tunes compell'd, they of their Fate complain.
