Classic Poem

A FABLE .

A GAUDY butterfly, that sat
Upon a flaunting tulip's lap;
While from its tubes of crimson hue,
He sipt the virgin morning dew;
His tinser wings wav'd by his side —
His chiefest beauty and his pride —
Bedropt in Nature's fancying hours,
Vied with the beauties of the flow'rs.
The star of day, from ocean's breast,
Roll'd up the portals of the east,
And shone afar o'er lakes and streams,
To glad creation with his beams.
The heath-bell blue adorned the wild,
And flower's within the garden smil'd:
The fluttering insect thus elate,
While cringing reptiles round him wait,
Like fops, when blest with pride and treasure,
Think all things formed for their pleasure.
Shall then his deeds of fairest hue,
Be hid and not exposed to view;
He flaps his wings, he humm'd aloud,
And thus address'd the wondering crowd:
" Behold in me, of high descent,
A traveller of great extent;
A connoisseur of noble parts,
Adept in sciences and arts:
The eglantine and woodbine bow'r,
I have surveyed in my tour;
Cowslips, carnations, I have trode,
And made the violet my abode:
When zephyrs waked my light repose,
I din'd upon the homed rose,
And revell'd the scented pea —
For all the flowers were fond of me.
My soaring wing hath dared to fly,
Up to yon towering pear-tree high;
Or perch'd alone, unfear'd of fall,
Upon the lofty garden wall;
Nor stopt I there, till objects new,
Again attract my wondering view.
A spacious sea, extended wide,
The circling billows lash'd the side,
Where living mountains stemm'd the flood,
And cackl'd to their giant brood;
A cloud-topt tower, where thunder rings,
Monsters both with, and without wings.
All these and more, myself did brave,
That ye poor creepers can't conceive: —
But surely ye'll allow the charge,
That I have viewed the world at large. "
A sober snail, of slowly pace,
That on a leaf lay stretch'd at ease,
In all his life that scarce had seen,
Above a cabbage or a green,
Yet deem'd they yielded dainty store —
Because he ne'er had dream't of more —
Hearing the bully boast aloud,
His dangers thus by field and flood,
Dire discontent his bosom seiz'd,
And envy all his vitals heez'd:
His body round in grief he wreath'd,
While thus his woe and wants he breath'd:
" Ah! cursed fate — ah! captious Nature,
That form'd me such a clumsy creature!
My footless form thus keeps me here,
Thro' all the beauties of the year;
Till piercing winds, or driving snows,
Cut short my life and end my woes.
O! had I but the towering wing,
Of yon gay flutterer of the spring,
I should not loiter here alone,
Alike unknowing and unknown. "
A busied bee, with humming noise,
That o'er her labours did rejoice,
Hearing at large the lengthen'd tale
Of empty butterfly and snail,
A conscious ardour fill'd her breast;
She thus the butterfly addrest.
" Vain, empty, ostentatious worm,
That no instruction can reform;
Nor sage Experience, with her light,
Can ever guide thy views aright,
But like the crowd, that always change,
Thou lov'st the marvellous and strange;
Tho' thou hast roam'd o'er flower and field,
What hidden truths hast thou revealed;
Or sound conclusions, drawn from nature,
Of use to thee, or other creature.
Even now, while summer's sun doth shine,
Thou, idly gadding, wast'st thy time;
And with thy follies dost foment,
The bursting sigh of discontent,
Thro' all the simple creeping tribe,
And fill'st their itching minds with pride.
I, too, have travers'd all thy rounds,
And even o'erleap'd thy largest bounds;
Toiling, with pleasure, for my hive,
To keep our commonwealth alive:
But small's the all that we have view'd,
And short's the path we have pursu'd,
Again, when Winter chills the day,
My store shall well each toil repay,
When thou in dust shalt low be laid,
And all thy transient beauties fled. "

Our Fable ends; and you, no doubt,
Can easy find the moral out:
For trifles, far we need not roam —
There's Butterflies enow at home.