Truth in Fiction Or, Morality in Masquerade. A Collection of Two hundred twenty five Select Fables of Aesop, and other Authors. Done into English Verse. By Edmund Arwaker |
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| XVIII. | FABLE XVIII. The Kid and Wolf: |
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| LXV. |
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 | Truth in Fiction |  |
24
FABLE XVIII. The Kid and Wolf:
Or, Mistaken Measures.
A rambling
Kid, that from his Dam had stray'd,
Was by a Wolf an easie Captive made:
The trembling Creature, young, and fond to live,
Devis'd this Shift, his Freedom to retrieve:
Since, Sir, said he, I cannot be repriev'd,
Pray let me Die as jocund as I Liv'd:
Sing one brisk Air, that I may shew my Skill,
And Dance a Fit, then eat me at your Will.
Was by a Wolf an easie Captive made:
The trembling Creature, young, and fond to live,
Devis'd this Shift, his Freedom to retrieve:
Since, Sir, said he, I cannot be repriev'd,
Pray let me Die as jocund as I Liv'd:
Sing one brisk Air, that I may shew my Skill,
And Dance a Fit, then eat me at your Will.
Sure of his Prey, the Wolf did soon comply,
Nor wou'd so modest a Request deny:
But he, whose Voice was hoarse, and Throat was foul,
In his Attempts to Sing, began to Houl.
A Pack of Hounds, that just were running by,
Knew his harsh Note, and follow'd him, Full-Cry.
Alarm'd at this, he had no time to stay;
(His Safety more concern'd him, than his Prey)
He left the Kid, to shake his Heels alone,
And rather chose to exercise his own.
Freed from his Fear, and of his Fault asham'd,
He thus himself, for his Miscarriage, blam'd:
Ah, wretched Fool! that such wrong Measures took,
To turn Musician, who was bred a Cook!
Aiming to Sing, I let my Booty go,
And now I may go Whistle for it too.
Nor wou'd so modest a Request deny:
25
In his Attempts to Sing, began to Houl.
A Pack of Hounds, that just were running by,
Knew his harsh Note, and follow'd him, Full-Cry.
Alarm'd at this, he had no time to stay;
(His Safety more concern'd him, than his Prey)
He left the Kid, to shake his Heels alone,
And rather chose to exercise his own.
Freed from his Fear, and of his Fault asham'd,
He thus himself, for his Miscarriage, blam'd:
Ah, wretched Fool! that such wrong Measures took,
To turn Musician, who was bred a Cook!
Aiming to Sing, I let my Booty go,
And now I may go Whistle for it too.
The MORAL.
‘Thus Fools, who indiscreetly slight the Arts‘To which wise Nature do's adapt their Parts;
‘And Works, for which they are unfit, pursue;
‘Miscarry in their Pains and Credit too.
| Truth in Fiction | |