We were by older science taught That when brutes think, they don't reflect. Descartes proceeds beyond the wall, And says they do not think at all. This you believe with ease; And so could I, if I should please. Still, in the forest, when, from morn Till midday, sounds of dog and horn Have terrified the stag forlorn; When he has doubled forth and back, And labour'd to confound his track, Till tired and spent with efforts vain-- An ancient stag, of antlers ten;-- He puts a younger in his place, All fresh, to weary out the chase.-- What thoughts for one that merely grazes! The doublings, turnings, windings, mazes, The substituting fresher bait, Were worthy of a man of state-- And worthy of a better fate! To yield to rascal dogs his breath Is all the honour of his death. And when the partridge danger spies, Before her brood have strength to rise, She wisely counterfeits a wound, And drags her wing upon the ground-- Thus, from her home, beside some ancient log, Safe drawing off the sportsman and his dog; And while the latter seems to seize her, The victim of an easy chase-- 'Your teeth are not for such as me, sir,' She cries, And flies, And laughs the former in his face. Far north, 'tis said, the people live In customs nearly primitive; That is to say, are bound In ignorance profound:-- I mean the people human; For animals are dwelling there With skill such buildings to prepare As could on earth but few men. Firm laid across the torrent's course, Their work withstands its mighty force, So damming it from shore to shore, That, gliding smoothly o'er, In even sheets the waters pour. Their work, as it proceeds, they grade and bevel, Or bring it up to plumb or level; First lay their logs, and then with mortar smear, As if directed by an engineer. Each labours for the public good; The old command, the youthful brood Cut down, and shape, and place the wood. Compared with theirs, e'en Plato's model state Were but the work of some apprentice pate. Such are the beaver folks, who know Enough to house themselves from snow, And bridge, though they can swim, the pools. Meanwhile, our kinsmen are such fools, In spite of their example, They dwell in huts less ample, And cross the streams by swimming, However cold and brimming! Now that the skilful beaver, Is but a body void of spirit, From whomsoever I might hear it, I would believe it never.