Classic Poem

AN Ape, that full of mimic tricks was known,
And, as it seems, above all fear was grown,
Vain of the imitations he display'd,
With wonder oft by fellow-brutes survey'd,
Long thro' his native wilds his paths had trac'd,
Nor dream'd that hidden snares might there be plac'd.
But on a day, as wand'ring thro' the wood,
A hundred various fancies he pursu'd;
A stranger ent'ring he from far espy'd,
Who wash'd in streams drawn from the silver tide.
A fair capacious bowl the water fill'd,
Which the observant Ape long time beheld,
Unseen, as he suppos'd, and soon withdrew,
His mimic art determin'd to pursue.
Returning on the next succeeding day,
While none appear'd the action to survey,
In the same bowl intent to wash he tries,
And imitation want of art supplies;
Not easy the deception was to find,
Proud, he presum'd to imitate mankind;
But of the fancy'd stream the more he takes,
Too late he wonders at the change it makes.
His sight obscur'd, his paws entangl'd quite,
He now first thought, but thought too late, of flight;
Harass'd, distress'd, an easy prey he fell
To him who laid the snare, and watch'd him well.
Yet now his lot he bore, nor found it hard,
As for his tricks he often met reward;
But yet unchang'd, in his own folly bold,
He imitates whate'er he may behold,
And with an over-curious busy eye
Strives into all that meets his sight to pry.
His master's gun attentive he had view'd,
Frequently fir'd, and oft the charge renew'd;
This, fearlessly, one fatal day he tries,
And to the trigger first his paw applies,
Then, stretching at full length, the muzzle eyes.
There needs no more: prim'd, loaded, in its strength,
The thund'ring gun soon laid him at his length;
Thus doom'd a sad example to remain,
By former folly warn'd, but warn'd in vain.