Fables in Song :: :: University of Virginia Library

An ass his feelings has.
And the feelings of this ass, alas!
Were wounded.
He said, tossing his head,
(And the scorn his speech betray'd, loud bray'd,
Resounded)

“Hee! haw!
Lighter than straw
On the wind, fools run
After what glitters. The taste of the day!
Sound worth they shun,
Their praises give to the sun's display,
And to me give none.
Ungrateful and frivolous fools, I say!
For, if I were the sun, they would flatter me, they
Who all fly me now. Yet, if I were the sun,
What could I do for them more, I pray,
Than, being an ass, I already have done?
I should simply have nothing to do but to shine—
Shine, or be seen, 'twould be all as one:
And no great merit in that, I opine,
If one happens to be the sun.”

4.

A wagtail nodded his head.
The ass was pleased. “It is plain
Thou hast understood me,” he said.
The wagtail nodded again.

5.

“And my voice hath a charm for thee?”
More movements of affirmation.
“Sage bird! I see we agree.”
(Much encouraged, continued he)

“What senseless exaggeration
In this praise of the sun! Nay, nay,
I am not unjust, I trust.
I admire, and enjoy, in its way,
(Tho' the end of it all is dust)
The sun's superficial display,
—When there's shadow elsewhere in store.
For what is light without shadow?
And the sun hath no shadow at all.
When he sprawls all ablaze on the meadow,
One is driven for shade to the wall.
Now, that is the fault I deplore.
True art enjoins exclusion;
What artists call ‘the file.’
Superabundant diffusion
Is the vice of a vulgar style.
The rich are prodigal rarely.
There's some fire in the sun, no doubt.
But of art . . . well, seeking it fairly,
Not a symptom can I find out.
If the least little leaflet green
Chance to cover the finest peach,
He passes it by unseen,
As tho' it were miles out of reach.
Many a statue fair
Of marble god and goddess,
Perfectly Greek, and bare
Of even a bit of a boddice,

He leaves in the damp and cold
Of their grottoes, and groves, and springs,
To gild, in the dust, with his gold,
The commonest insect things.
Is that worthy work (now own!)
For a star to whom it is given
To saunter all day up and down,
Staring about him, in heaven?
Look at me, little bird! I am far
From comparing my humble powers
With those of that profligate star.
But, to perfect them, all the twelve hours
I've a practical occupation.
Without it, I care not a whit
For brilliant imagination.
And I value not genius or wit,
If it lacks the elaboration,
The earnest moral tone,
And genuine consecration
Of work—work, steadily done.
'Tis with pride that I bear up and down
Sacks of corn to the mill,
And sacks of flour to the town.
For, whilst useful to others, I still
Feel that fairly and fully mine own
Is the honour on me conferr'd
Of the right to be thus employ'd.
'Tis a privilege, little bird,
By the idle never enjoy'd.”

6.

At every boastful word
The ass thus solemnly said,
As tho' in its truth he concurr'd,
The wagtail nodded his head.

7.

And the ass resumed. “No doubt,
The fat paddock is not for me.
The spruce garden where cabbages sprout,
'Tis but over the wall I see.
From the corn-bin I get not a bite:
To the pampering oat I'm a stranger,
And the fragrant hay is quite
Out of reach of my modest manger.
But of no such dainties I dream.
The thistle, that hardy relation
Of the sickly artichoke,
I have learn'd to know and esteem,
And I relish my well-earn'd ration,
Not envying sumptuous folk.
Then, is it not hard, I ask,
When my voice I raise
In vigorous lays of praise,
To celebrate Virtue's task,
And her days
Well spent,—yon fools, who bask
In the sun's mere casual rays,

All stop their ears with a cry, and fly
My discourse at the very first minute,
Nay, almost before I begin it,
As if the devil were in it?
Why do they do that, why?”

8.

Had this worthy ass been content
With the wagtail's tacit assent,
We should never have known, alas!
What a wagtail thinks of an ass.

9.

But he,
Impatient, as well he might be,
After so long saying his say,
Of getting to all that he said
The self-same nod of the head
In for ever the self-same way,
Began to demand of his auditor
An opinion more in detail
Concerning the cause he was pleading for.
Then, the wagtail hopp'd from his rail,
And hopp'd on to a stone, that stood
Half out of the brooklet's bed,
And replied, “Not a word have I understood
Of all that you just now said.”

10.

“Not a word?” exclaim'd the ass, much surprised,
“Not a word of all I said and all I meant?

And yet, surely, if an ass may trust his eyes,
To each word of it you nodded me assent.”

11.

“Nodded,” said the wagtail, “ay!
But nodded you assent, friend, nay!
If I nodded 'twas because it is my way,
And because I am a wagtail, I.
So the sun shines, yonder, up on high,
Just because he is the sun.
And so you, too, as you say,
Fetch and carry sacks all day,
Getting thanks for it from none,
Just because you are an ass.”

12.

Then the wagtail flew away,
Thro' the trees, across the grass.
And this fable is done.