 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
9
The POET and STRAW.
A Fable.
On
Richmond Hill, with doublet bare,
A hungry poet takes the air:
The air on Richmond Hill, tho' good,
And excellent Camelion food,
Is rather of too thin a nature
For a beef-loving, two-legg'd creature:
Our poet stops, he looks around,
And murmurs thus in doleful sound:
A hungry poet takes the air:
The air on Richmond Hill, tho' good,
And excellent Camelion food,
Is rather of too thin a nature
For a beef-loving, two-legg'd creature:
Our poet stops, he looks around,
And murmurs thus in doleful sound:
“While plenty o'er the landscape reigns,
“Shall Bards alone feel meagre pains?
“Ah, what avails, if in the Town,
“My madrigals acquir'd renown;
“If stranger to all-pow'rful coin
“I seldom taste the rich sirloin;
“If for the produce of my brain,
“I meet from money'd fools disdain;—
“In vain the laurel crowns my brows;
“What crowns my pocket?—Not one souse:
“Of bay or laurel, where the use is?
“Nor bay or laurel fruit produces:—
“I've fame pursu'd, and now I've caught her,
“She proves—mere moonshine in the water;
“How happier the unletter'd glutton,
“Who can indulge on beef and mutton:—
“How curst each servant of the nine!
“I'd rather be a fool and dine.”
“Shall Bards alone feel meagre pains?
“Ah, what avails, if in the Town,
“My madrigals acquir'd renown;
“If stranger to all-pow'rful coin
“I seldom taste the rich sirloin;
“If for the produce of my brain,
“I meet from money'd fools disdain;—
“In vain the laurel crowns my brows;
“What crowns my pocket?—Not one souse:
“Of bay or laurel, where the use is?
“Nor bay or laurel fruit produces:—
“I've fame pursu'd, and now I've caught her,
“She proves—mere moonshine in the water;
“How happier the unletter'd glutton,
“Who can indulge on beef and mutton:—
“How curst each servant of the nine!
“I'd rather be a fool and dine.”
He said, and to his great surprize
Beneath his feet a Straw replies:—
“Ah, hapless Bard, look down and see
“Thy striking emblem here in me;
“Despis'd by those, to whom my head
“Furnish'd the staff of living—bread:
“That gain'd, behold me here cast down,
“Trod on by ev'ry sordid clown:
“Just so the bard, who, from his brain,
“The hungry mind can entertain,
“Is soon neglected and forgot,
“A barren praise his hapless lot;
“To fame becomes an empty bubble,
“Trod on by fools like straw or stubble.”
Beneath his feet a Straw replies:—
10
“Thy striking emblem here in me;
“Despis'd by those, to whom my head
“Furnish'd the staff of living—bread:
“That gain'd, behold me here cast down,
“Trod on by ev'ry sordid clown:
“Just so the bard, who, from his brain,
“The hungry mind can entertain,
“Is soon neglected and forgot,
“A barren praise his hapless lot;
“To fame becomes an empty bubble,
“Trod on by fools like straw or stubble.”
| Poems on Several Occasions | |