Classic Poem

A village-cur, of snappish race,
The pertest puppy of the place,
Imagin'd that his treble throat
Was blest with musick's sweetest note;
In the mid road he basking lay,
The yelping nusance of the way;
For not a creature past along
But had a sample of his song.
Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears,
Away he scowers, assaults his hoof,
Now near him snarles, now barks aloof;
With shrill impertinence attends,
Nor leaves him 'till the village ends.
It chanc'd, upon his evil day,
A Pad came pacing down the way;
The Cur, with never-ceasing tongue.
Upon the passing trav'ler sprung,
The horse, from scorn provok'd to ire,
Flung backward; rolling in the mire,
The puppy howl'd, and bleeding lay;
The Pad in peace pursu'd his way.
A shepherd's Dog, who saw the deed,
Detesting the vexations breed,
Bespoke him thus. When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate.
Thy teazing tongue had judgment ty'd,
Thou hadst not, like a puppy, dy'd.