Fab. XLIX. The Lark.
A Lark, who every Spring, did use to build
Her Nest, and lay her Eggs, in the green Wheat,
So early, that her young ones might be fledge,
Before 'twas reapd, did once by a mistake,
Make her Nest, hatch her Eggs, in rath ripe Corn,
And found not out her Error till too late,
She saw the Harvest near, her young ones Callow,
Not in Condition to be timely movd,
Therefore i'th' morning, ere she went abroad,
She thus bespoke them: Children, when I am gone,
Mind every thing you chance to hear, or see,
And give me an account, at my return.
They watchd, and saw the Owner of the Field,
Walking that way, discoursing with his Son,
And over-heard him say, this Corn is ripe,
And if it be not quickly reapd, will shed,
Go Son, to the next Village, and intreat
My Friends assistance, to cut down this Wheat,
Early, by break of day, to morrow morn.
The affrighted Larks, this to their Mother told.
Children, said she, your danger's yet remote,
Be not dismayd, for if we can stay here
Till we are dispossessed by his Friends,
By that time your young Feathers will be grown,
And you'll be able to transport your selves
Where ever I shall guide you, through the Air,
Leaving the same Commands, away she flies,
Next day. The careful Husbandman awakes
Early, at the first crowing of the Cock,
Rises, comes down, and fearing to be late,
Sate buttoning of his Doublet at the Gate,
Thence casting many a wishful look to th' Coast
From whence his hopd-for succour ought t'arrive,
Seeing the Sun grown high, and no Friend come,
Thus to his Son he spoke; Since we're deceivd,
Henceforwards set a Mark upon such Friends,
Who only cry God bless you, when we sneeze,
But, when we stand in need, afford no help.
Go, all our near Relations invite
To meet me here, to morrow, by day-light,
That we may get this Corn down before Night.
This News the young Birds to their Mother told,
Mother, they cryd, Mother, we are undone,
Not one of us can fly, few of us run,
Yet out of doors to morrow we must turn.
Such terrour seizd them of approaching Death,
They mingled Sighs, and Tears, with every word.
She smild, and said, you are still secure, he'll find
His Friends and Kindred equally unkind,
Be mindful still of what you hear, and see,
This said, away a Foraging she flies.
The next Sun rises, the good Man, in vain,
Expects his Kindred, none of them appears;
Since there's no trust to be repos'd in Frinds,
Or Kindred, Son, said he, to morrow bring
Two Sickles, you and I will cut this Corn.
As soon as the Old Lark this understood,
To a securer place, leading her Brood,
Follow, said she, we've staid the utmost hour,
There's no Eluding Interest, and Power.
The Moral.
What thou canst do, expect not from another.
Another Moral.
He that will bring his Business to an end,
Must go himself, he that will not, may send.
A Third out of J. C. That is
Expect not from Relations, or Friends,
What you can do your self, without their help.
A Fourth out of J. C. That is
Make not use of anothers breath
To cool thy Furmity when 'tis too hot.
A Fifth out of J. C. That is
The best Dung upon the Field, is the Masters Eye, and Foot.
Another out of J. C. That is
There's no relying upon foreign aid.
He that would have's work done, must do't himself.
They who their business put off, and delay
Till others do't, may for ever stay.
Another out of J. C.
'Tis the Owner of the Cow, that pulls her by the Tail out o'th' Ditch.
Another.
A Cow licks no Calf but her own.
Another.
No Man halts for anothers pain.
Another out of J. C. That is
The eye of the Master makes the Horse Fat,
The eye of the Mistress makes the House Neat.
Another out of the same. That is
He's the best Messenger, that's most concernd.
Another out of the same. That is
If thou wouldst sleep well, make thy Bed thy self.
