'Tis Pilpay that has told this tale; And if upon the god of song I chose to call, I might prolong This quadrupedal history, And write another Odyssey. And if, to please you, I should take This work upon me, I should make The Rat the hero; yet, 'tis true That each had work, and did it, too. The Tortoise, though with mansion weighted, The case in point so clearly stated, That Master Crow at once took wing, To spy the land, and message bring; Whilst dear Gazelle, with female cunning, Before the hunter lamely running, Gave to Sir Gnaw-cord time to bite The strings which held the Tortoise tight. So each one, in his several way, Fought a good fight, and won the day. On whom shall we the prize bestow? On the good heart, as you'll allow. What will not friendship dare for those On whom its gentle tendrils close? That other feeling, love, is not, Compared with friendship, worth a jot; Although, to tell the truth, its pains Distract my heart, and fill my strains. It is Love's gentle sister you Protect, and I'll adore her, too; And, blending Friendship with your name, Throughout the world her joys proclaim.
A good heart is in you with sense allied, And scores of other qualities, well tried; A nobleness of soul and mind, to guide Both men and things; a temper frank and free. In friendship firm, though tempests there may be. All this deserves, we know, a pompous praise: But pomp displeases you; so I'll not raise My voice, but simple be, and brief. I would Insert a word of flattery, if I could, About the country that you love so dear. The English are profound: in this their mind Follows their temperament, as oft we find. Deep, deep they dig for truth, and without end The empire of the sciences extend. I write not this to win good will from you; Your nation are deep searchers, it is true. Even your dogs, they say, have keener scent than ours; Your foxes are of craftier mental powers: I'll prove it, by an artful stratagem, The most ingenious ever planned by them. A wicked Reynard, chased quite out of breath By the untiring dogs, and dreading death, Saw a tall gallows, where dead badgers hung, And owls and foxes were together strung-- Cruel examples for the passer-by! Reynard in ambuscade prepared to lie, Like Hannibal, who, when the Romans chased, Baffled their armies, and their spies disgraced. Old Fox this was! his enemies soon ran To where he lay for dead. The barking clan Filled all the air with clamour long and loud. The master whipped away the noisy crowd: The trick deceived him. "Come, you dogs!" he cried, "Some puppy's saved the rascal, who ne'er tried To climb the gibbet where such honest folk Repose. Some day, he'll find the gallows a rough joke, Much to his loss." And, while the dogs give tongue, Back to his larder goes the Fox just hung. Another day he'll try the self-same plan, And leave his brush and four paws with the man. Tricks won't do twice. The hunter ne'er had thought Of such a scheme, had he been nearly caught, Not from the want of wit, at all, you see, For who can say the English want <i>esprit?</i> But their contempt for life has often led To evil in such dangers, it is said.