With mighty rush and roar, Adown a mountain steep A torrent tumbled,--swelling o'er Its rugged banks,--and bore Vast ruin in its sweep. The traveller were surely rash To brave its whirling, foaming dash, But one, by robbers sorely press'd, Its terrors haply put to test. They were but threats of foam and sound, The loudest where the least profound. With courage from his safe success, His foes continuing to press, He met a river in his course: On stole its waters, calm and deep, So silently they seem'd asleep, All sweetly cradled, as I ween, In sloping banks, and gravel clean,-- They threaten'd neither man nor horse. Both ventured; but the noble steed, That saved from robbers by his speed, From that deep water could not save; Both went to drink the Stygian wave; Both went to cross, (but not to swim,) Where reigns a monarch stern and grim, Far other streams than ours. Still men are men of dangerous powers; Elsewhere, 'tis only ignorance that cowers. [34] Abstemius. XXIV.--EDUCATION. Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended From dogs by Fame the most commended, Who falling, in their puppyhood, To different masters anciently, One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood; From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. At first, each had another name; But, by their bringing up, it came, While one improved upon his nature, The other grew a sordid creature, Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, The name ungracious ever stuck. To high exploits his brother grew, Put many a stag at bay, and tore Full many a trophy from the boar; In short, him first, of all his crew, The world as Caesar knew; And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, His noble blood should e'er degenerate. Not so with his neglected brother; He made whatever came a mother; And, by the laws of population, His race became a countless nation-- The common turnspits throughout France-- Where danger is, they don't advance-- Precisely the antipodes Of what we call the Caesars, these! Oft falls the son below his sire's estate: Through want of care all things degenerate. For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts. What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts! XXV.--THE TWO DOGS AND THE DEAD ASS.[35]