 | Miscellany Poems |  |
On an Ape.
I
This Creature, that our Scorn doth grow,Whose Actions we with laughter see,
Of Reason doth resemblance show,
And follows us with pleasing Mimickry:
It aims at Wit; a Man would grow;
And would be Rational, if it knew how.
II
'Tis more than We to Angels can;Their Deeds we cannot Imitate:
We'er after all Endeavours Man;
Nor can we even in Shadow change our state:
Nor what they are, or what they doe,
Can we but even in Show attain unto.
III
Trifles our anxious Heads do fill,Which this bless'd Creature trouble not:
Quarrels thence flow, the Cause of ill,
While Unconcern'dness is his happy Lot.
He is our Scorn, and much more W
The Scorn or Pitty may of Angels be.
17
IV
Like Man ambitiously he acts,While We in Paths of Beasts do tread;
Follow vain Fools in Vitious tracts,
And even to Hell are by Example led:
Great Aims his Mind doth upward call;
While basely We to what's below us crawl.
| Miscellany Poems | |