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167
THE FISHERMAN AND CYNIC.
A TALE.
(Inscribed to the Misanthrophi.)
Felicity, by all, is sought;
By some commanded, others bought:
Tho' Happiness to mortal view,
Changes like the Cameleon's hue.
By some commanded, others bought:
Tho' Happiness to mortal view,
Changes like the Cameleon's hue.
A Cynic, whose contracted breast
Ne'er gave admission to a jest,
Forsook, one morn, his calm abode,
To muse and murmur as he rode:
Reading upon his mental pages,
The dogmas of succeeding sages;
Yet none could satisfy his mind,
But Heaven had been to man unkind;
Tho' Phœbus proudly blaz'd before him,
His beams, to Peace could not restore him,
Ne'er gave admission to a jest,
Forsook, one morn, his calm abode,
To muse and murmur as he rode:
Reading upon his mental pages,
The dogmas of succeeding sages;
Yet none could satisfy his mind,
But Heaven had been to man unkind;
Tho' Phœbus proudly blaz'd before him,
His beams, to Peace could not restore him,
After he'd spent the genial day
In sinking, to himself a prey,
And raising bulwarks 'gainst Content's assistance,
He saw an Angler at a distance:
While he was putting up his rod,
And singing merrily, to glad his God:
As he apparent breath'd without annoy,
The Cynic spurr'd his steed to mend his pace,
And, curious, hurried to the place,
To find the origin of so much joy,
The surly seer accosted thus the swain:
Tell me, thou jocund tyrant to the fishes,
Has your success been equal to your wishes?
So, so, replied the clown, and sung again.
So, so, is inconclusive speak downright;
You trifle with me; you're dispos'd to quibble.
Why then, said t'other, tho' I've got no bite,
I've had—a glorious nibble.
In sinking, to himself a prey,
168
He saw an Angler at a distance:
While he was putting up his rod,
And singing merrily, to glad his God:
As he apparent breath'd without annoy,
The Cynic spurr'd his steed to mend his pace,
And, curious, hurried to the place,
To find the origin of so much joy,
The surly seer accosted thus the swain:
Tell me, thou jocund tyrant to the fishes,
Has your success been equal to your wishes?
So, so, replied the clown, and sung again.
So, so, is inconclusive speak downright;
You trifle with me; you're dispos'd to quibble.
Why then, said t'other, tho' I've got no bite,
I've had—a glorious nibble.
The stricken Ingrate, with surprise,
Thus utter'd, lifting up his eyes,
Ah me! ye Gods, can such a creature be,
The social intimate of Glee?
This moment, Anguish to the winds I blow:
Fool that I was, to droop with grief,
When ev'ry trifle brings relief,
How weak those antients were, who ask'd the Sybil,
How they might step aside from human woe;
When bliss depends upon a—nibble.
Thus utter'd, lifting up his eyes,
Ah me! ye Gods, can such a creature be,
The social intimate of Glee?
This moment, Anguish to the winds I blow:
Fool that I was, to droop with grief,
When ev'ry trifle brings relief,
How weak those antients were, who ask'd the Sybil,
How they might step aside from human woe;
When bliss depends upon a—nibble.
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