FABLE LVIII. The Rival Cocks:
Or, No Reckoning of Chickens before they are Hatch'd.
Two
Cocks, that on a Dunghil sought to reign,
Did, for the Empire, daily War maintain;
Often they strove which shou'd his Foe destroy,
And the Seraglio of Hens enjoy:
'Till the first Lord of the rich Soil, by Fate
Compell'd to yield, was forc'd to Abdicate:
Asham'd thereat, he soon retir'd from Sight,
And durst no more appear to claim his Right.
The happy Victor, of his Conquest proud,
Proclaims his Triumph to the World aloud:
Mounts the House-top, and claps his joyful Wings,
And, with rais'd Crest, three Iö Bæans sings.
But while thus haughty, thus with Trophies pleas'd,
An Eagle saw him, and the Boaster seiz'd;
Then with her Captive to her Airy flew,
And for her Young, the wretched Victim slew.
His vanquish'd Rival, who beheld his Fate,
Recall'd his Courage, and return'd in State;
Was Recogniz'd, resum'd his Rightful Throne,
And Trod the Dunghil, and the Hens, alone,
The MORAL.
‘Since here we daily Revolutions see,
‘And cannot dive into Futurity;
‘Why shou'd we vainly our Success admire,
‘And, unprovided for a Fall, aspire?
‘Extreams are short-liv'd, and, from Heights of Bliss,
‘We may be plung'd in Sorrow's deep Abyss.
‘A Steady Mind is always on its Guard,
‘And for a Change, in ev'ry State, prepar'd:
‘Hopes for a Calm, when most with Storms oppress'd;
‘And looks for Storms, when with a Calm 'tis bless'd!
