A Fox was throwing up the soil, And while with his assiduous toil He burrow’d deep into the ground, A Dragon in his den he found, A-watching hidden treasure there, Whom seeing, Renard speaks him fair: “First, for your pardon I apply For breaking on your privacy; Then, as you very plainly see That gold is of no use to me, Your gentle leave let me obtain To ask you, what can be the gain Of all this care, and what the fruit, That you should not with sleep recruit Your spirits, but your life consume Thus in an everlasting gloom?” “’Tis not my profit here to stay,” He cries; “but I must Jove obey.” “What! will you therefore nothing take Yourself, nor others welcome make?” “Ev’n so the fates decree:” --“Then, sir, Have patience, whilst I do aver That he who like affections knows Is born with all the gods his foes. Since to that place you needs must speed, Where all your ancestors precede, Why in the blindness of your heart Do you torment your noble part?” All this to thee do I indite, Thou grudging churl, thy heir’s delight, Who robb’st the gods of incense due, Thyself of food and raiment too; Who hear’st the harp with sullen mien, To whom the piper gives the spleen; Who’rt full of heavy groans and sighs When in their price provisions rise; Who with thy frauds heaven’s patience tire To make thy heap a little higher, And, lest death thank thee, in thy will Hast tax’d the undertaker’s bill. XVI. PHÆDRUS, ON HIS FABLES. What certain envious hearts intend I very clearly comprehend, Let them dissemble e’er so much.-- When they perceive the master’s touch, And find ’tis likely to endure, They’ll say ’tis Esop to be sure-- But what appears of mean design, At any rate they’ll vouch for mine. These in a word I would refute: Whether of great or no repute, What sprung from Esop’s fertile thought This hand has to perfection brought; But waiving things to our distaste, Let’s to the destined period haste. XVII. THE SHIPWRECK OF SIMONIDES.