Brought good to him or wealthy fee. At last he settles it was shame To leave his home, and takes the blame. Then he returns: the well-loved place Makes tears of joy run down his face. "Happy," he cries, "the man at ease, Who lives at home himself to please; Ruling his passions, by report Knowing alone of sea or Court, Or Fortune, of thy empire, Jade, Which has by turns to all displayed Titles and wealth, that lead us on From rising to the setting sun; And yet thy promises astray Still lead us to our dying day. Henceforth I will not budge again, And shall do better, I see plain." While he thus schemed, resolved, and planned, And against Fortune clenched his hand, He found her in the open air At his friend's door, and sleeping there. FABLE CXXXVI. THE TWO FOWLS. Two Barn-door Fowls in peace spent all their life, Until, at last, love, love lit up the strife: War's flames burst out. O Love! that ruined Troy, 'Twas thou who, by fierce quarrel, banished joy, And stained with blood and crime the Xanthus' tide! Long, long the combat raged 'tween wrath and pride, Until the rumour spread the whole town through, And all the crested people ran to view. Many a well-plumed Helen was the prize Of him who conquered; but the vanquished flies-- Skulks to the darkest and most hidden place, [Illustration: THE TWO FOWLS.] And mourns his love with a dejected face. His rival, proud of recent victory, Exulting crows, and claims the sovereignty. The conquered rival, big with rage, dilates, Sharpens his beak, and Fortune invocates, Clapping his wings, while, maddened by defeat, The other skulks and plans a safe retreat. The victor on the roof is perched, to crow; A vulture sees the bragger far below. Adieu! love, pride, and glory, all are vain Beneath the vulture's beak;--so ends that reign. The rival soon returns to make his court To the fair dame, and victory to report, As he had half-a-dozen other wives, to say the least, You'll guess the chattering at his wedding feast. Fortune always rejoices in such blows: Insolent conquerors, beware of those. Still mistrust Fate, and dread security, Even the evening after victory. FABLE CXXXVII. THE COACH AND THE FLY.