Fable 44. The Hound and the Huntsman -

FABLE XLIV.

I MPERTINENCE at first is born
With heedless slight, or smiles of scorn;
Teaz'd into wrath, what patience bears
The noisy fool who perseveres?

The morning wakes, the huntsman sounds,
At once rush forth the joyful hounds;
They seek the wood with eager pace,
Through bush, through brier explore the chase;
Now scatter'd wide, they try the plain,
And snuff the dewy turf in vain.
What care, what industry, what pains!
What universal silence reigns!
Ringwood , a dog of little fame,
Young, pert, and ignorant of game,
At once displays his babbling throat;
The pack, regardless of the note,
Pursue the scent; with louder strain
He still persists to vex the train.
The Huntsman to the clamour flies,
The smacking lash he smartly plies;
His ribs all welk'd, with howling tone
The puppy thus exprest his moan.
I know the musick of my tongue
Long since the pack with envy stung;
What will not spite? These bitter smarts
I owe to my superior parts.
When puppies prate, the Huntsman cry'd,
They show both ignorance and pride,
Fools may our scorn, not envy raise,
For envy is a kind of praise.
Had not thy forward noisy tongue
Proclaim'd thee always in the wrong,
Thou might'st have mingled with the rest,
And ne'er thy foolish nose confest;
But fools, to talking ever prone,
Are sure to make their follies known.
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