 | The poems of Dr. Yalden |  |
FABLE II. THE LION'S TREATY OF PARTITION.
A mighty Lion heretofore,
Of monstrous paws and dreadful roar,
Was bent upon a chase:
Inviting friends and near allies
Frankly to share the sport and prize,
During the hunting-space.
Of monstrous paws and dreadful roar,
Was bent upon a chase:
Inviting friends and near allies
Frankly to share the sport and prize,
During the hunting-space.
The Lynx and royal Panther came,
The Boar and Wolf of Wolfingham,
The articles were these:
Share and share like, whate'er they got,
The dividend upon the spot,
And so depart in peace.
The Boar and Wolf of Wolfingham,
The articles were these:
Share and share like, whate'er they got,
The dividend upon the spot,
And so depart in peace.
A royal Hart, delicious meat!
Destin'd by inaupicious Fate,
Was started for the game:
The hunters run him one and all,
The chase was long, and, at the fall,
Each enter'd with his claim.
Destin'd by inaupicious Fate,
Was started for the game:
The hunters run him one and all,
The chase was long, and, at the fall,
Each enter'd with his claim.
One lov'd a haunch, and one a side,
This ate it powder'd, t' other dried,
Each for his share alone:
Old Grey-beard then began to roar,
The whiskers twirl'd, bully'd, and swore,
The Hart was all his own.
This ate it powder'd, t' other dried,
Each for his share alone:
Old Grey-beard then began to roar,
The whiskers twirl'd, bully'd, and swore,
The Hart was all his own.
“And thus I prove my title good;
My friend deceas'd sprung from our blood,
Half's mine as we're ally'd:
My valour claims the other part;
In short, I love a hunted Hart:
And who dares now divide?”
My friend deceas'd sprung from our blood,
Half's mine as we're ally'd:
My valour claims the other part;
In short, I love a hunted Hart:
And who dares now divide?”
The bilk'd confederates they stare,
And cry'd, “Old gentleman, deal fair,
For once be just and true.”
Quoth he, and looking wondrous grum,
“Behold my paws, the word is mum;
And so messieurs, adieu!”
And cry'd, “Old gentleman, deal fair,
For once be just and true.”
Quoth he, and looking wondrous grum,
“Behold my paws, the word is mum;
And so messieurs, adieu!”
THE MORAL.
Tyrants can only be restrain'd by might,Power's their conscience, and the sword their right:
Allies they court, to compass private ends,
But at the dividend disclaim their friends.
Yet boast not, France, of thy successful fraud,
Maintain'd by blood, a torment whilst enjoy'd:
Imperial Cæsar drives the storm along,
And Nassau's arms avenge the public wrong.
| The poems of Dr. Yalden | |