University of Virginia Library

A FABLE.

It chanced a long, long time ago,
Longer indeed than I well know,
That there was met a company,
Right friendly all, and fair, and free,
A most respectable society,
Assembled in all due sobriety;
They met—and kindly greetings then
Exchanged, as you may see 'mongst men—
For men they were not,—nor laid claim
To so high title—such proud name.—
No!—they were of the tribes that we,
Scornful, in superiority,
Call brutes, and animals, and creatures—
Because they wear not human features;
And, holding in light estimation,
Name—lower orders of creation.—
It was a long, long time ago,
Longer than I can tell or know,
That some of these assembled were,
On a fine Summer's day and fair—
To chat—and their opinions state,
On themes of more and of less weight—
'Twas long ere rail-roads, stiff and straight,
Ran rigidly their iron line
Along, and threatened the decline
Of coach-proprietors and posters—
(Steam! arrantest of vapoury boasters!
How, how dost thou at once declare
That our most solid good is air,
Or smoke, or water!—thee in short—
And how we trust to this report!)
Also of Nature's pride and grace,
Which they contrive too much to efface—
Do these still threaten the overflow,
And frightful make our world below.—
'Twas long before gas turned the night
To something more than mid-noon bright,
And challenged yon proud Lord of Day,
To reign with as triumphant sway—
(While pale Hecate, quite put to shame—
Still fostering her too-faithful flame,
Seems now, like wisp-lights in a swamp—
A supernumerary lamp—
And that too fed with oil—in short—
One of the antiquated sort—
Exploded now on every side,
Through changes vast of time and tide—
And the poor stars, how might they bear
Their dazzling rival, fine and fair.
But ill, in sooth!—for they appear
That glaring, dazzling rival near,
Most like—while more and more they fail—
Ghosts of departed rushlights, pale!)
'Twas long before mild revolutions
Brought forth sweet baby-constitutions—
A little ricketty or so—
As, to their cost, their nurses know;
Yet, on the whole, that promise well,
Tickled with coral, toy, and bell!
Unless the multitude of teachers
Should overdo the pretty creatures,
O'er-tasked, and troubled, or yet worse,
Unless they should be changed at nurse—
And in the place of those that were
Free, liberal, smiling, broad and fair—
Should start up—cast in sterner mould—
Dark Despotisms, strong and bold,
Armed—thriving—scowling, fierce, and strong,
Driving in trembling haste along,
All all before them with their nod,
Changing the rattle for the rod,
Coral and toy, for thong and chain,
And blackened with the old barbarous stain—
'Twas long before such things were known,
Things which now every day are shown—
That this fair company, and free,
Assembled were harmoniously.
There did a staid Owl gravely blink—
Looking as 'twould be thought to think—
Full solemnly and wisely too—
As many emptier bipeds do—
Who put reflection's sage look on,
And think the business thus is done!
And there a noble Eagle gazed
Around, as if almost amazed,
To be upon the earth—so far
From his own worshipp'd sun's proud car;
And there a little quiet Mole,
With shining coat as black as coal,
Sat looking pensively demure—
In earth-born dream, we may be sure—
Deep, dark, and hidden, and profound—
For all his soul is underground!—
A Dormouse too—but come, a truce,
To preface long of little use—
Let us at once report what they
Did on this same occasion say.—
These, and yet many another too,
After the first kind how-d'ye do,
Had passed between them, straight began
To chatter and converse, like man,
On topics divers—and discuss
Full many subjects, until thus
The Dormouse eloquently speaks,
The rest their muzzles close, and beaks;
They speak no more on topics divers,
While his wise mind he thus delivers:—
“How foolish men must surely be!—
Pity they do not learn of me.
How weak it is for young and old,
Alike to bide the Winter's cold:
And troth, my friends, I needs must say
That ye're almost as weak as they;
Almost as weak as they are, sure,
Since you too are content to endure
(Or most of you, at least) the pangs—
Planted by Winter's icy fangs—
When ye have nothing else to do,
But sleep the whole dull winter through,
Curled in a comfortable ball—
Not conscious of the cold at all!
Dreaming of Spring and Summer bright,
Treating the Winter like a night!—
In vain the tempest's wing should flap
O'er ye, once nestled in snug nap—
The piercing frosts—the chilling snows
Should harm ye not in your repose.—
Last Winter, by my friends I'm told,
Was bitter, bleak, and biting cold—
I nothing of its terrors knew,
But soundly slept the season through!—
While thus I slumber, snug and lone,
I have a climate of my own;
The changeful weather is for me
Fettered and fixed unchangeably,
Immutable—invariable,—
While I in lap of quiet dwell—
The inconstant winds for me remai
Together bound, in one soft chain—
East, west, south, north, are all the same
To me, in that long peaceful dream;
To me doth seem, in very truth,
The north like the dew-dropping south;
The keen east like the balmy west—
Since none disturb my happy rest;
A season and a climate fair
Ever have I to mine own share!—
To every dear and worthy friend
A self-same course I recommend
For folly it must be to endure
Ills that so easy are to cure.”
He ceased—and those assembled round,
Awhile remained in silence bound;
But soon another voice began—
And thus the strain mellifluous ran—
The little silky, dusky Mole,
Thus poured his subterraneous soul!—
(And shy, yet sly he looked the while,
And smiled a twinkling darkling smile—)
“Excuse me, gentle Dormouse, dear,
With much surprise your speech I hear;
If they indeed like me would do,
Then they would sapient be, 'tis true,
Nor on earth's surface still remain,
To freeze on the unprotected plain,
Exposed to stern vicissitude
Of varying weather, rough and rude.
My subterraneous galleries are
(Scooped out with persevering care)
Snug, warm, delightful—when the snow
Is white above—there's none below.
How can you all indeed be still,
Content with stupid, senseless will,
To walk about, unroofed—exposed,
—In no delicious mound enclosed,—
To wind and weather, snow and sun,
Nor take the surest means to shun.
Thus you would 'scape the Winter's cold,
But not in senseless slumber rolled;
Unconscious and uncaring all,
Unknowing of what may befall.—
How I enjoy the thought, how well,
Thus screened in my clay citadel,
I can withstand old Winter's power,
And mock him from my mould-built tower:
I joy the howling gales to hear,
To me they bring no pangs of fear;
They may not roughly breathe on me,
I hear their fierce threats dauntlessly;
The snows may fall in thickest showers,
And whiten all the leafless bowers;
They serve to warm me, where I dwell—
In my own little quiet cell.”—
“Well,” cried the solemn, blinking Owl,
(Respectable and worthy fowl!)
“I do not doubt—dear little Mole—
That your discourse is, on the whole,
Full of sage counsel; and, I own,
I always think that you have shown
Much owl-like wisdom in your choice
(Wherein, believe me, I rejoice)
Of a dark dwelling, where no ray
Of blinding sunshine comes to play—
I do not doubt you're in the right—
Like me, a foe to blazing light—
But how Man can (the strange, odd creature,
With ass-like bray, and ape-like feature,
Who e'er heard Man's loud laugh without
Thinking that Asses then sang out?)
Before the calm and cloudy Night
(That soothes so much the undazzled sight)
Prefer the glaring, staring Day
Astounds me more than I can say!
And ye, my friends, Horse, Sheep, and Cow,
And others, too, that I see now!
How can ye be so very weak
As not some shelter then to seek,
When glows the Sun with fearful blaze
Of blinding and of painful rays—
And venture from your calm retreats,
(Whether where bough of verdure meets
With bough, to form a sheltering skreen,
Compact and close, of soothing green;
Or where the hand of Man hath reared
Sheds—by long habit's force endeared—
For your retirement and repose,
Where Sun shines not, nor wild wind blows?—)
Into the open air, alone—
When gleams the gentle Lady Moon—
Then is the time for true delight,
In the still gloom of gracious Night,
When no fierce, gaudy blaze is seen,
Troubling with restless radiance keen,
Wildering with fiery glow intense
The dazzled and distracted sense:
For wise are they who ever shun
The burning, blinding, blazing Sun.”—
“Away!” the noble Eagle cries,
And lifts his bright and kindling eyes,
And flaps his mighty wings of pride,
Resounding loud, and spreading wide,
As though his inmost Spirit yearned
To reach that Sun which cheerly burned
Above them, beautiful and bright,
Fount of an ocean-flood of light!—
“Away—away!—how dare ye thus
Accuse yon proud orb, luminous?—
Good neighbour Owl!—your strange advice
Let Dormice follow in a trice—
And Bats, and things of sullen brood,
That own a vile and abject mood—
Moles, Grubs, and Snails, and twisting Worms,
And all those poor and petty forms
Which seem superfluous, to infest
Earth's teeming and maternal breast—
Let all whose hearts and hopes throb high
Soar up with me into the Sky!—
Let all who would dull languour shun
Mount up with me and greet the Sun!
I marvel much so many prove
Content on humble Earth to move,
And groundwards turn their leaden eyes,
That should be fixed upon the Skies,
And turn their heavy orbs away
From him on golden throne of day
Who sits triumphant and sublime,
Lord of each Season and each Clime,
The Source of Beauty, Hope, Delight—
Of all that joyous is, or bright,
The Chief of Stars, the Crown of Space,
Who gilds Creation's smiling face,
The great, good, glorious, gracious Sun,
From whence all weal, all wealth is won!”—
The Eagle ceased: his piercing tone
Might well have struck a heart of stone:
Defiance and disdain were there—
'Twas like a battle-cry in air!—
It seemed to startle and to stun,
E'en like a voice sent from the Sun!
A muttered murmur round confessed
What echoes swelled in many a breast,
To these proud accents, fierce and free,
That long resounded thrillingly.—
This trembling murmur melted then
To silence' solemn hush again,
And soon a very different sound
The attention claimed of those around.
A dull and drowsy voice was heard—
While laboured—lingering—lengthened word
(Whose every syllable, in drawl
Long-drawn—appeared to creep and crawl)
Spoke forth, by slow and dull degrees,
What wandering mind might never seize—
The meaning of that speaker!—who
Now sought to win, with counsel new.
Each slow, dull accent seemed to fall
Like drops in some deep cavern-hall—
To sink in Silence' depths again,
Like leaden plummets in the main!—
No marvel, since the Snail 'twas then
That spoke from out her shelly den;
Just putting forth, for all to see,
Her horns and head, suspiciously.
And thus she spoke, while all remained
In mute surprise transfixed and chained;
For seldom did the slow Snail take
The trouble thus a speech to make:—
“The lordly Eagle seems to scorn
All who may happen to be born,
Unlike himself, of low estate,
And proudly, proudly doth he prate.
But I do verily opine—
(I pray you all your ears to incline)
That great advantages are found
In calmly dwelling on the ground;
Conspicuous as he soars on high,
His proud form traced out on the sky,
He tempts the skilful marksman's aim,
Whose arrow can his courage tame;
And while he haunts the realms above,
Few friends finds he to trust and love:
He hath a lonely place on high,
A dreary solitude of sky!
For solitude is sad and drear,
E'en though the path of our career
Be through the sunny regions there—
What place of banishment is fair?—
For me, I bless my humble birth,
And am right happy on the earth.
All that I want or wish I have,
And now would your attention crave;
Because I think I could improve
The state of those dear friends I love!
Would all example take from me,
Methinks that all would happier be.
Lo! I am evermore at home,
Not only when I rest—but roam;
Where'er I go, you know 'tis true,
My home and hearth go with me too!
Those who no bliss, no peace would lack,
Like me should bear upon their back
Their house, with all its furniture,
So should their comforts still endure.
Man, the proud lord—Earth's haughty king,
Who seems to deem that every thing
Is made for him and him alone—
The sun his lamp—the world his throne,
The starry and resplendent sky
His star-o'erbroidered canopy—
Trembles, when from his home afar,
Lest thieves should wrong and foes should mar.—
What housebreakers would dare to attack
The house when on the owner's back?
'Twere bungling burglary indeed,
And scarcely to success could lead!—
And then, besides, full well he fares
Who hath no multitude of cares:—
My roof and raiment are the same,
And little care or toil they claim.—
My raiment and my roof are one,
Unbuilt, unpainted, and unspun.—
No choice I have—no change I need;
A calm, contented life I lead:
No strangers do I ask to come,
To visit me in my dear home;
Since there can be no room for these,
Though I therein still dwell at ease—
Nor friends nor foes can there intrude,
And yet is mine no solitude!
I only have to put my head
Just out of doors, with air well bred,
To wish good morning to my friends,
And thus my brief retirement ends.
At once can I of surety be
In midst of gay society!—
Grub, Toad, and brother Snail are there,
And all to greet their friend prepare;
And Mole and Field-mouse too I meet
At times, and do right-loving greet!—
In short, a pleasant life I lead,
And deeply do I wish, indeed,
That all would follow in my train,
They should not find it were in vain—
'Tis most delightful to combine—
(As I unvaryingly entwine)—
Domestic duties deep and true,
With friendly free relations too.
None may encroach, and none intrude
Upon my peaceful solitude;
And yet in midst of all I dwell
Secure within my sheltering shell.
I never leave my house, but still
My situation change at will.
To adopt this same course I advise
All who their peace and comfort prize;
From lordly Man to lowly Mole,
Crouched in his subterraneous hole.”
The Snail had nothing more to say—
Died, drawling, drowsily away
The droning accents—sluggish—slow,
As frozen in their lazy flow:—
The Dormouse thought 'twas Winter come;
That long speech shed a chill, a gloom,
So dismal and so deep around,
And in such heavy fetters bound
The wearied sense—he could not keep
His eyes unclosed, and fell asleep.—
Nor yet, the whole truth to declare,
Was he the only slumberer there;
For various snores, from divers snouts,
Precluded on that head all doubts:
But when that drowsy drawl was done,
They 'gan to wake up one by one—
The Owl began to blink and stare,
With his round orbs, a solemn pair;
The Eagle's eyes flashed open wide,
And brightly glanced from side to side.
The Mole, and sundry others too,
That well had dozed that long speech through,
Then shook and roused themselves, and tried
To look as though they had applied
Their minds most earnestly to all
That did from Snail's lips lately fall—
But none might make reply, because
None well had heard: an awkward pause
Among the assembly then took place,
Yet lasted but a little space:—
The Swallow, blythe, and bold, and free—
Twittered a speech forth joyously,
And cheerily took up the strain:—
“'Twere best to follow o'er the main,
(As I for ever wisely do,
Who one unchanging course pursue!)
The blushful Summer, bright and glad,
In roses and in sunbeams clad;
Not like the dusky tribe of Moles—
To hide oneself in gloomy holes,
For sake of warmth and of repose,
While cold the wind inclement blows—
Nor like the Dormouse to remain,
Bound in dull slumber's close-link'd chain;
Till Summer, ever fair and free,
Returneth o'er the main with me!
But still to keep her smile in view,
To track her sweet steps, and pursue,
And where she goeth, swift to go;
Where her new hoards of roses blow—
'Tis best to hail her evermore,
And follow her from shore to shore;
Not, like the lazy Snail, to keep
Your house and bed, and slow to creep,
Perhaps some inches in the day,
Then think you've journeyed a long way.
Dear, slimy friend! pray pardon me,
For somewhat harshly blaming thee!
But sure, a little while ago,
When you were speaking very slow,
I caught some words of your's most queer,
That counselled all your friends to appear
With their strong houses on their backs—
Tight-fitting them as close as wax.
Doubtless you suffer much from cold—
Since you're content thus to enfold
In cloistering case your graceful form—
It must be, sure, to keep you warm:
Far better 'twere to cast away
That cumbering case, methinks some day;
And also, if your slimeship could,
Your sluggishness and slothful mood—
And follow—airily and free—
Summer and Swallow o'er the sea!
'Twould painful be at first—sweet Snail!
But perseverance should prevail—
Which still success for ever brings—
And thus, although you have no wings,
You o'er the sea might swim or float,
Or haply borrow his light boat
From the Ocean-child, the Nautilus,
Who, doubtless, would oblige you thus,
And you would feel at home and well,
No doubt—enveloped in his shell
Not like the Eagle would I soar
To heights that must be evermore
Glaring and comfortless indeed;
I should shoot down from these with speed!
'Twere better not, in place of pride,
Thus lost and lonely to abide:—
And then, beside, we all must know,
The nearer to the sun we go
The colder grows the bright, keen air,
O'er-rarified and sharpened there.—
'Tis well most careful court to pay
Unto the radiant Lord of Day;
'Tis well to pay most careful court
Unto the Sun, and to resort
For ever to his chosen place,
And gaze upon his glorious face;
But not with vain ambition, weak,
His throne in upper air to seek.
Vainly they struggle—vainly strive,
Who seek at such heights thus to arrive!
Still, still above them, far above,
Doth he their poor attempts reprove;
Not near enough unto his blaze
To feel the increased warmth of the rays,
They only find the upper air
More keen, and chill, and piercing there,
In that blue, open world of sky,
Spread out so smilingly on high!
'Tis better, better far to chase,
On sea and land, from place to place,
The golden sun of Summer's hours—
Where'er he lights the blushing bowers
(That break, in continent and isle,
Into rich bloom beneath his smile!)
And not to seek those heights to gain,
But lightly o'er the sunny plain
To skim, in glad and free delight—
While all beneath—above, is bright—
Verdure and flowery sheen below,
Rich with a variegated glow.
Above—one cloudless azure, fair;
Around—one gleaming world of air;
'Tis then we own Creation's worth,
At once enjoying heaven and earth!
Let all these strive to copy me,
If they would know felicity!—
And follow in my happy train,
Chasing the summer o'er the main,
Tracking the sun, and following far
His rolling and resplendent car.”
Thus chattered they—and all the while
Heard, with a staid and serious smile,
A fine, sagacious Dog—that near
Remained, their mixed discourse to hear:
And now he in his turn addressed,
Snail, Swallow, Eagle, and the rest;
Thus took he up the mixed discourse,
And the argument unto its source,
Appeared to trace with sounder sense
Than those, with all their eloquence.
Thus spoke the Dog, while all around
Listened in silence most profound—
“Dear Friends!—I heard my master say,
Unto a neighbour, t'other day,
How carefully, on every side,
Doth Nature for her Sons provide!
Look at the cameleopard's neck,
Lengthened to reach the boughs that deck
The fair trees of its native land,
Which shooting high, in air expand,
Since on those green and tender boughs
The cameleopard loves to browse.
Behold the active, busy bees—
Instructed nicely how to seize
The sweets from ev'ry fragrant flower—
Converting them, with mystic power,
Into delicious food, which none
But them can frame beneath the sun.
Observe the Spider, taught to spread
His slight attenuated thread,
In rare and complicated way,
Adapted best to catch his prey;
Or to the artful silkworm turn,
How from the first doth it well learn
To weave that costly web so fine—
Which doth with glossy lustres shine!
All are enriched with precious dowers,
Provided with surpassing powers—
And on their destined paths are led,
And on their course appointed sped;
Furnished with means and methods still,
Their different fortunes to fulfil.
None on the other's paths encroach,
None may his brother's acts reproach—
All are the needful lessons taught,
And to perfection's fullness brought—
Much more did my sage master say,
Upon this topic the other day,
Conversing with a friend, who seemed
To deem just as my master deemed;
And unto me they made it clear,
That all is perfect wisdom here;
That all doth surely firmly blend
Unto a great and gracious end.
Friends, it appeareth unto me,
If I indeed may make so free,
Ye all talked nonsense to each other,
Much like my braying, long-eared brother.
Each hath, according to his kind,
His own peculiar part assigned;
Nor hath Dame Nature e'er forgot
To adapt his means unto his lot.
That which doth make the happiness
Of one would scarce the other bless.—
The Snail, slow creeping on the ground,
The secret of her bliss hath found;
As happy is she in her shell
As the Eagle, whose proud heart doth swell
With bold ambition, keen and high,
Soaring into the sun-bright sky.
The Dormouse, that doth punctual keep
The sabbath of his wintry sleep,
Enjoyeth life as much as those
Whose eyes to greet the day unclose,
Though every season duly still,
Not from their choice, in sooth, or skill.
The Mole—the little dusky Mole,
Within his subterraneous hole—
Hath all his world concentered there—
Hath little need of space and air!—
And my good friends, be very sure,
As long as this world doth endure,
Things will go on as they have done,
For nothing's new beneath the sun;
And none amongst ye could improve,
(I speak in friendship still, and love)
Howe'er ye dream, in vain conceit,
Still apt with ignorance to meet
The state and habits of the rest;
Since all is ordered for the best,
And every one of you must keep
His clear-traced path—nor may o'erleap
The bars which mark out and divide
His race from all the world beside;—
And could he—then he would but gain
Trouble and weariness and pain.—
Your tastes are different, and your joys,
What charms the one, the other cloys—
Of that one the best balm and bliss
Proves but the bitter bane of this;
For tastes and tempers ne'er may be
All reconciled and made to agree:—
The wisdom of the one is shown
And this full oft on earth is known
To be the other's foolishness.
These truths I would on all impress:—
In short, dear Friends—I well believe,
We all from Nature's hand receive
The boons best suited to us still,
Though good be sometimes dashed with ill!—
We all should be contented here—
To that sweet nursing mother, dear!—
Dear to kind nature evermore,
Who feedeth all from her rich store!—
E'en from the loftiest to the least,
Fish, fowl, and insect, reptile, beast;
Man, lordly Man, who reigns supreme,
And the least midge in Summer's beam!
She doth an equal care bestow,
Around—beside—above—below!—
The curtain of the mighty deep
Hides not from eyes that never sleep:
The wants of myriad creatures there,
To each and all she gives their share,
For each and all with care provides—
Those countless swarms that throng the tides;—
And from the first unto the last,
All have their lot by wisdom cast;
Their portion and their part assigned,
Bound by strict ties none e'er unbind.
All classes of all creatures she,
Doth ever bless with bounty free—
Unto their cry she still attends,
And her kind ear attentive bends
To all their supplications still,
And doth their just desires fulfil—
And be ye sure that happiness
All in their lot and line possess.—
The humblest Slug that seems to crawl,
As though he had no life at all.
Enjoys as much in that faint life,
Unknown to wild excitement's strife,
As the proud Panther in his hours
Of bounding triumph, loftiest powers.—
Take all and each, what Nature gives:
In comfort and in peace he lives
Who looketh and who seeketh not
Beyond his own established lot;
Who hangs on her supporting hand,
Nor wishes by himself to stand,
In rash vain independence here,
Unchastened by a wiser fear—
Nor dares with envious glance to turn,
For other's good or gifts to yearn.—
Each doth she still endow and bless
With different kinds of happiness:
But happiness it still must be—
Profusion of felicity.—
Here ever more exhaustless streams—
And ever with abundance teems—
Though each may think it is but found
In his own circle's narrow bound!”