Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FABLES: 2ND SER. 14. THE OWL, SWAN, COCK, SPIDER, ASS, by JOHN GAY


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FABLES: 2ND SER. 14. THE OWL, SWAN, COCK, SPIDER, ASS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Conversing with your sprightly boys
Last Line: The blockhead had appear'd an ass.
Subject(s): Mothers


(To a MOTHER)

CONVERSING with your sprightly boys,
Your eyes have spoke the mother's joys.
With what delight I've heard you quote
Their sayings in imperfect note!
I grant, in body and in mind,
Nature appears profusely kind.
Trust not to that. Act you your part;
Imprint just morals on their heart;
Impartially their talents scan:
Just education forms the man.
Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)
Each lot of life's already thrown;
That this shall plead, the next shall fight,
The last assert the church's right.
I censure not the fond intent;
But how precarious is th' event!
By talents misapplied and crost,
Consider, all your sons are lost.
One day (the tale's by Martial penn'd)
A father thus address'd his friend.
To train my boy and call forth sense,
You know I've stuck at no expence;
I've try'd him in the sev'ral arts,
(The lad, no doubt, hath latent parts,)
Yet trying all he nothing knows;
But crablike rather backward goes.
Teach me what yet remains undone;
'Tis your advice shall fix my son.
Sir, says the friend, I've weigh'd the matter;
Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter;
Make him (nor think his genius checkt)
A herald or an architect.
Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known,
He heard th' advice and took his own.
The boy wants wit; he's sent to school,
Where learning but improves the fool:
The college next must give him parts,
And cram him with the lib'ral arts.
Whether he blunders at the bar,
Or owes his infamy to war,
Or if by licence or degree
The sexton share the doctor's fee,
Or from the pulpit by the hour
He weekly floods of nonsense pour,
We find (th' intent of nature foil'd)
A taylor or a butcher spoil'd.
Thus ministers have royal boons
Conferr'd on blockheads and buffoons:
In spite of nature, merit, wit,
Their friends for ev'ry post were fit.
But now let ev'ry muse confess
That merit finds its due success:
Th' examples of our days regard;
Where's virtue seen without reward?
Distinguish'd and in place you find
Desert and worth of ev'ry kind.
Survey the rev'rend bench, and see
Religion, learning, piety:
The patron, e'er he recommends,
Sees his own image in his friends.
Is honesty disgrac'd and poor?
What is't to us what was before?
We all of times corrupt have heard,
When paultry minions were preferr'd;
When all great offices, by dozens,
Were fill'd by brothers, sons, and cozens.
What matter ignorance and pride?
The man was happily ally'd.
Provided that his clerk was good,
What though he nothing understood?
In church and state, the sorry race
Grew more conspicuous fools in place.
Such heads, as then a treaty made,
Had bungled in the cobler's trade.
Consider, patrons, that such elves
Expose your folly with themselves.
'Tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care,
To fix each genius in its sphere.
Your partial hand can wealth dispense,
But never give a blockhead sense.

An Owl of magisterial air,
Of solemn voice, of brow austere,
Assum'd the pride of human race,
And bore his wisdom in his face.
Not to depreciate learned eyes,
I've seen a pedant look as wise.
Within a barn, from noise retir'd,
He scorn'd the world, himself admir'd,
And, like an ancient sage, conceal'd
The follies publick life reveal'd.
Philosophers of old, he read,
Their country's youth to science bred,
Their manners form'd for ev'ry station,
And destin'd each his occupation.
When Xenophon, by numbers brav'd,
Retreated, and a people sav'd,
That laurel was not all his own;
The plant by Socrates was sown.
To Aristotle's greater name
The Macedonian ow'd his fame.
Th' Athenian bird, with pride replete,
Their talents equall'd in conceit;
And, copying the Socratick rule,
Set up for master of a school.
Dogmatick jargon learnt by heart,
Trite sentences, hard terms of art,
To vulgar ears seem'd so profound,
They fancy'd learning in the sound.
The school had fame: the crouded place
With pupils swarm'd of ev'ry race.
With these the Swan's maternal care
Had sent her scarce-fledg'd cygnet heir:
The Hen (though fond and loth to part)
Here lodg'd the darling of her heart:
The Spider, of mechanick kind,
Aspir'd to science more refin'd:
The Ass learnt metaphors and tropes,
But most on musick fix'd his hopes.
The pupils now, advanc'd in age,
Were call'd to tread life's busy stage;
And to the master 'twas submitted,
That each might to his part be fitted.
The Swan, says he, in arms shall shine:
The soldier's glorious toil be thine.
The Cock shall mighty wealth attain:
Go, seek it on the stormy main;
The court shall be the Spider's sphere:
Power, fortuneshall reward him there.
In musick's art the Ass's fame
Shall emulate Corelli's name.
Each took the part that he advis'd,
And all were equally despis'd.
A Farmer, at his folly mov'd,
The dull preceptor thus reprov'd.
Blockhead, says he, by what you've done,
One would have thought 'em each your son;
For parents, to their offspring blind,
Consult nor parts nor turn of mind;
But ev'n in infancy decree
What this, what t'other son shall be.
Had you with judgment weigh'd the case,
Their genius thus had fix'd their place:
The Swan had learnt the sailor's art;
The Cock had play'd the soldier's part;
The Spider in the weaver's trade
With credit had a fortune made;
But for the fole, in ev'ry class
The blockhead had appear'd an Ass.





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