As slugs pollute the fairest peaches: Envy defames, as harpies vile Devour the food they first defile." Now ask the fruit of all his favour-- "He was not hitherto a saver."-- What then could make their rage run mad? "Why, what he hoped, not what he had." "What tyrant e'er invented ropes, Or racks, or rods, to punish hopes? Th' inheritance of hope and fame Is seldom Earthly Wisdom's aim; Or, if it were, is not so small, But there is room enough for all." If he but chance to breathe a song, (He seldom sang, and never long,) The noisy, rude, malignant crowd, Where it was high, pronounced it loud: Plain Truth was Pride; and, what was sillier, Easy and Friendly was Familiar. Or, if he tuned his lofty lays, With solemn air to Virtue's praise, Alike abusive and erroneous, They call'd it hoarse and inharmonious. Yet so it was to souls like theirs, Tuneless as Abel to the bears! A Rook[5] with harsh malignant caw Began, was follow'd by a Daw;[6] (Though some, who would be thought to know, Are positive it was a crow:) Jack Daw was seconded by Tit, Tom Tit[7] could write, and so he writ; A tribe of tuneless praters follow, The Jay, the Magpie, and the Swallow; And twenty more their throats let loose, Down to the witless, waddling Goose. Some peck'd at him, some flew, some flutter'd, Some hiss'd, some scream'd, and others mutter'd: The Crow, on carrion wont to feast, The Carrion Crow, condemn'd his taste: The Rook, in earnest too, not joking, Swore all his singing was but croaking. Some thought they meant to show their wit, Might think so still--"but that they writ"-- Could it be spite or envy?--"No-- Who did no ill could have no foe."-- So wise Simplicity esteem'd; Quite otherwise True Wisdom deem'd; This question rightly understood, "What more provokes than doing good? A soul ennobled and refined Reproaches every baser mind: As strains exalted and melodious Make every meaner music odious."-- At length the Nightingale[8] was heard, For voice and wisdom long revered, Esteem'd of all the wise and good, The Guardian Genius of the wood: He long in discontent retired, Yet not obscured, but more admired: His brethren's servile souls disdaining, He lived indignant and complaining: They now afresh provoke his choler, (It seems the Lark had been his scholar, A favourite scholar always near him, And oft had waked whole nights to hear him.) Enraged he canvasses the matter, Exposes all their senseless chatter, Shows him and them in such a light, As more inflames, yet quells their spite. They hear his voice, and frighted fly, For rage had raised it very high: Shamed by the wisdom of his notes, They hide their heads, and hush their throats. [Footnote 1: Lord Carteret, Lord-lieutenant of Ireland.--_F_.] [Footnote 2: Ireland.--_F_] [Footnote 3: A famous modern architect, who built the Parliament-house in Dublin.--_F_.] [Footnote 4: Dr. Delany.--_F_.] [Footnote 5: Dr. T----r.--_F._] [Footnote 6: Right Hon. Rich. Tighe.--_F._]