 | Poems of Freneau |  |
118
To a PERSECUTED PHILOSOPHER.
AS ARISTIPPUS once, with weary feet,
Pursued his way through polish'd ATHENS street,
Minding no business but his own;
Out rush'd a set of whelps
With sun-burnt scalps,
(Black, red, and brown,)
That nipt his heels, and nibbled at his gown:
Pursued his way through polish'd ATHENS street,
Minding no business but his own;
Out rush'd a set of whelps
With sun-burnt scalps,
(Black, red, and brown,)
That nipt his heels, and nibbled at his gown:
While, with his staff, he kept them all at bay
Some yelp'd aloud, some howl'd in dismal strain,
Some wish'd the sage to bark again:—
Even little Shylock seem'd to say,
“Answer us, sir, in your best way:—
“We are, 'tis true, a snarling crew,
“But with our jaws have gain'd applause,
“And—sir—can worry such as you.”
Some yelp'd aloud, some howl'd in dismal strain,
Some wish'd the sage to bark again:—
Even little Shylock seem'd to say,
“Answer us, sir, in your best way:—
“We are, 'tis true, a snarling crew,
“But with our jaws have gain'd applause,
“And—sir—can worry such as you.”
The sage beheld their spite with steady eye,
And only stopp'd to make this short reply:
“Hark ye, my dogs, I have not learn'd to yelp,
Nor waste my breath on every lousy whelp;
Much less, to write, or stain my wholesome page
In answering puppies—bursting with their rage:
Hence to your straw!—such contest I disdain:
Learn this, ('tis not amiss)
For men I keep a pen,
For dogs, a cane!
And only stopp'd to make this short reply:
“Hark ye, my dogs, I have not learn'd to yelp,
Nor waste my breath on every lousy whelp;
Much less, to write, or stain my wholesome page
In answering puppies—bursting with their rage:
Hence to your straw!—such contest I disdain:
Learn this, ('tis not amiss)
For men I keep a pen,
For dogs, a cane!
1792
| Poems of Freneau | |