To ape a talent not your own Is foolish; no one can affect a grace. A blundering blockhead better leave alone The gallant's bows, and tricks, and smiling face. To very few is granted Heaven's dower-- Few have infused into their life the power To please, so better far to leave the charm To them. And may I ask you, where's the harm? One would not bear resemblance to the Ass, Who wishing to be dearer to his master, Amiably went to kiss him; so it came to pass There followed instantly no small disaster. "What!" said he, "shall this paltry thing Assume by dint of toadying, Win Madam's friendly fellowship, And twist and gambol, fawn and skip, While I have only blows? no, no! What does he do?--why, all fools know-- He gives his paw; the thing is done, And then they kiss him every one. If that is all, upon my word, To call it difficult 's absurd." Full of this glorious thought, one luckless day, Seeing his master smiling pass that way, The clumsy creature comes, and clumsily Chucks with his well-worn hoof quite gallantly His master's chin; to please him still the more, With voice, so sweet, sonorous brays his best. "Oh, what caresses, and what melody!" The master cries; "Ho! Martin, come, be quick! And, Martin, bring the heaviest stick!" Then Martin comes; the donkey changed his tune. So ended the brief comedy In bitter blows and misery. Donkeys' ambitions pass so soon. [Illustration] [Illustration] FABLE LXXIII. MAN AND THE WOODEN IDOL. A certain Pagan had a god of wood-- Deaf was the idol, yet had ears enough; The Pagan promised to himself much good. It cost as much as three men; for his fears Induced repeated vows and offerings; Fat oxen crowned with garlands and such things. Never an idol--think of that-- Boasted of victims half as fat. Yet all this worship brought no grace, Treasure or legacy, or luck at play; What's more, if any single storm came near the place, This man was sure to have to pay; Yet all the time the god dined well. Now, was this fair? At last, impatient at the costly care, He takes a crowbar, and the Idol smashes (Crashes). Forth comes a stream of gold. "I feasted you with offerings manifold, And you were never worth an obolus to me; Now leave," he said, "my hospitality, Seek out another altar. I hold thee One of those gross and stupid creatures With wicked and untoward natures Whose gratitude can never grow; But after many a heavy blow, The more I gave the less I got; I own It's very well I changed my tone." [Illustration] [Illustration] FABLE LXXIV. THE JAY DRESSED IN PEACOCK'S PLUMES.