Page images
PDF
EPUB

With might and main they chased the murderous

fox,

With brazen trumpets, and inflated box,
To kindle Mars with military sounds;
Nor wanted horns to inspire sagacious hounds.
But see how Fortune can confound the wise,
And, when they least expect it, turn the dice.
The captive cock, who scarce could draw his breath,
And lay within the very jaws of death;

Yet in this agony his fancy wrought,

And fear supplied him with this happy thought:
'Yours is the prize, victorious prince!' said he ;
'The vicar my defeat, and all the village see.
Enjoy your friendly fortune while you may,
And bid the churls, that envy you the prey,
Call back their mongrel curs, and cease their cry;
See, fools, the shelter of the wood is nigh,
And Chanticleer in your despite shall die:
He shall be pluck'd, and eaten to the bone.'
"Tis well advised; in faith, it shall be done!'
This Reynard said: but as the word he spoke,
The prisoner with a spring from prison broke:
Then stretch'd his feather'd fans with all his might,
And to the neighbouring maple wing'd his flight;
Whom when the traitor safe on tree beheld,
He cursed the gods, with shame and sorrow fill'd;
Shame for his folly, sorrow out of time,

For plotting an unprofitable crime:
Yet mastering both, the artificer of lies

Renews the assault, and his last battery tries.

"Though I,' said he,' did ne'er in thought offend,

How justly may my lord suspect his friend!
The appearance is against me, I confess,
Who seemingly have put you in distress:

You, if your goodness does not plead my cause,
May think I broke all hospitable laws,
To bear you from your palace-yard by might,
And put your noble person in a fright:
This, since you take it ill, I must repent,
Though Heaven can witness, with no bad intent;
I practised it, to make you taste your cheer
With double pleasure, first prepared by fear.
So loyal subjects often seize their prince,
Forced, for his good, to seeming violence,
Yet mean his sacred person not the least offence.
Descend; so help me Jove! as you shall find
That Reynard comes of no dissembling kind.'

[ocr errors]

'Nay,' quoth the cock, but I, beshrew us both, If I believe a saint upon his oath :

An honest man may take a knave's advice,
But idiots only may be cozen'd twice.

Once warn'd is well bewared: not flattering lies
Shall soothe me more to sing with winking eyes,
And open mouth, for fear of catching flies.
Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim,
When he should see, has he deserved to swim?'
'Better, sir cock, let all contention cease;
Come down,' said Reynard, let us treat of peace.'
'A peace, with all my soul,' said Chanticleer;

[ocr errors]

But, with your favour, I will treat it here:

And lest the truce with treason should be mix'd, 'Tis my concern to have the tree betwixt.'

THE MORAL.

In this plain fable you the effect may see
Of negligence and fond credulity;

And learn, besides, of flatterers to beware;
Then most pernicious when they speak too fair.
The cock and fox, the fool and knave imply;
The truth is moral, though the tale a lie.
Who spoke in parables, I dare not say;
But sure he knew it was a pleasing way,
Sound sense by plain example to convey:
And in a heathen author we may find,
That pleasure with instruction should be join'd:
So take the corn, and leave the chaff behind.

THE

CHARACTER OF A GOOD PARSON.

IMITATED FROM CHAUCER, AND ENLARGED.

A PARISH priest was of the pilgrim train;
An awful, reverend, and religious man.
His eyes diffused a venerable grace,

And charity itself was in his face.

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor;
(As God had clothed his own ambassador)
For such, on earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore.
Of sixty years he seem'd; and well might last
To sixty more, but that he lived too fast;
Refined himself to soul to curb the sense,
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promised him sincere:
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see,
But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity;
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm'd;
Though harsh the precept, yet the preacher charm'd.
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky:
And oft with holy hymns he charm'd their ears,
A music more melodious than the spheres:
For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and, after him, he sang the best.

He bore his great commission in his look,
But sweetly temper'd awe, and soften'd all he spoke.
He preach'd the joys of heaven, and pains of hell,
And warn'd the sinner with becoming zeal;
But on eternal mercy loved to dwell.

He taught the Gospel rather than the law,
And forced himself to drive, but loved to draw.
For fear but freezes minds; but love, like heat,
Exhales the soul sublime to seek her native seat.

To threats the stubborn sinner oft is hard,
Wrapp'd in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
But when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
Lightning and thunder (Heaven's artillery)
As harbingers before the Almighty fly:
Those but proclaim his style, and disappear;
The stiller sound succeeds, and God is there!

The tithes his parish freely paid, he took, But never sued, or cursed with bell and book; With patience bearing wrong, but offering none, Since every man is free to lose his own. The country churls, according to their kind, (Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind) The less he sought his offerings, pinch'd the more; And praised a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had some to spare,

To feed the famish'd, and to clothe the bare:
For mortified he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he would not see.

"True priests,' he said, ' and preachers of the Word, Were only stewards of their Sovereign Lord: Nothing was theirs; but all the public store, Intrusted riches, to relieve the poor;

« PreviousContinue »