University of Virginia Library


107

FABLE XVIII.

A hungry Crow, lean as a stick,
Beating about his hunting ground,
To find, amongst the dead or quick,
A dinner, if it could be found,
Perceiv'd a Serpent lying basking,
This is a glorious Worm indeed!
One may dine here; there is no need,
Said he, to wait for any asking.
On which Don Corvo cock'd his tail,
And strutted in the gutter;
Resolv'd to fall to, tooth and nail,
When he had carv'd and cut her.
Instead of making a good dinner,
Or making a good hit,
Corvo, like many a foolish sinner,
Found himself miserably bit.
Too late he found out his mistake;
Passion minds nothing but the form,
Passion will seize upon a snake,
And take it for a harmless Worm.

108

This Fable in his hand, a Miser
Said to his son, 'Tis hard to tell
How many people would be wiser,
If they apply'd this Fable well;
You might have sav'd, said he, dear Will,
Many a good pound and many a pill.
The son reply'd, How folks are blind!
I find it otherwise apply'd,
It means an avaricious mind,
That never can be satisfy'd.
With hunger, toils, and danger struggling,
Till, bit for want of taking heed,
Some cunning Serpent makes him bleed,
As you were made to bleed for smuggling.