How many saucy airs we meet From Temple Bar to Aldgate Street! Proud rogues, who shared the South-Sea prey, And sprung like mushrooms in a day! They think it mean, to condescend To know a brother or a friend; They blush to hear their mother's name, And by their pride expose their shame. As cross his yard, at early day, A careful farmer took his way, _10 He stopped, and leaning on his fork, Observed the flail's incessant work. In thought he measured all his store, His geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er; In fancy weighed the fleeces shorn, And multiplied the next year's corn. A Barley-mow, which stood beside, Thus to its musing master cried: 'Say, good sir, is it fit or right To treat me with neglect and slight? _20 Me, who contribute to your cheer, And raise your mirth with ale and beer? Why thus insulted, thus disgraced, And that vile dunghill near me placed? Are those poor sweepings of a groom, That filthy sight, that nauseous fume, Meet objects here? Command it hence: A thing so mean must give offence' The humble dunghill thus replied: 'Thy master hears, and mocks thy pride: _30 Insult not thus the meek and low; In me thy benefactor know; My warm assistance gave thee birth, Or thou hadst perished low in earth; But upstarts, to support their station, Cancel at once all obligation.' * * * * * FABLE XXXVI. PYTHAGORAS AND THE COUNTRYMAN. Pythag'ras rose at early dawn, By soaring meditation drawn, To breathe the fragrance of the day, Through flowery fields he took his way. In musing contemplation warm, His steps misled him to a farm, Where, on the ladder's topmost round, A peasant stood; the hammer's sound Shook the weak barn. 'Say, friend, what care Calls for thy honest labour there?' _10 The clown, with surly voice replies, 'Vengeance aloud for justice cries. This kite, by daily rapine fed, My hens' annoy, my turkeys' dread, At length his forfeit life has paid; See on the wall his wings displayed, Here nailed, a terror to his kind, My fowls shall future safety find; My yard the thriving poultry feed, And my barn's refuse fat the breed.' _20 'Friend,' says the sage, 'the doom is wise; For public good the murderer dies. But if these tyrants of the air Demand a sentence so severe, Think how the glutton man devours; What bloody feasts regale his hours! O impudence of power and might, Thus to condemn a hawk or kite, When thou, perhaps, carniv'rous sinner, Hadst pullets yesterday for dinner!' _30 'Hold,' cried the clown, with passion heated, 'Shall kites and men alike be treated? When Heaven the world with creatures stored, Man was ordained their sovereign lord.' 'Thus tyrants boast,' the sage replied, 'Whose murders spring from power and pride. Own then this man-like kite is slain Thy greater luxury to sustain;