| |
| FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name, | |
| Unless to one you stint the flame. | |
| The child, whom many fathers share, | |
| Hath seldom known a father’s care. | |
| ’Tis thus in friendships; who depend | 5 |
| On many, rarely find a friend. | |
| A Hare who, in a civil way, | |
| Complied with ev’ry thing, like Gay, | |
| Was known by all the bestial train, | |
| Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. | 10 |
| Her care was, never to offend, | |
| And ev’ry creature was her friend. | |
| As forth she went at early dawn | |
| To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, | |
| Behind she hears the hunter’s cries, | 15 |
| And from the deep-mouth’d thunder flies. | |
| She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; | |
| She hears the near advance of death; | |
| She doubles to mislead the hound, | |
| And measures back her mazy round; | 20 |
| Till, fainting in the public way, | |
| Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay. | |
| What transport in her bosom grew, | |
| When first the Horse appear’d in view! | |
| ‘Let me,’ says she, ‘your back ascend, | 25 |
| And owe my safety to a friend. | |
| You know my feet betray my flight; | |
| To friendship every burden’s light.’ | |
| The Horse replied: ‘Poor honest Puss, | |
| It grieves my heart to see thee thus; | 30 |
| Be comforted, relief is near; | |
| For all your friends are in the rear.’ | |
| She next the stately Bull implored, | |
| And thus replied the mighty Lord: | |
| ‘Since ev’ry beast alive can tell | 35 |
| That I sincerely wish you well, | |
| I may, without offence, pretend | |
| To take the freedom of a friend. | |
| Love calls me hence; a fav’rite cow | |
| Expects me near yon barley-mow; | 40 |
| And when a lady’s in the case, | |
| You know all other things give place. | |
| To leave you thus might seem unkind, | |
| But see, the Goat is just behind.’ | |
| The Goat remark’d her pulse was high, | 45 |
| Her languid head, her heavy eye: | |
| ‘My back,’ says he, ‘may do you harm; | |
| The Sheep’s at hand, and wool is warm.’ | |
| The Sheep was feeble, and complain’d | |
| His sides a load of wool sustain’d: | 50 |
| Said he was slow, confess’d his fears; | |
| For hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares! | |
| She now the trotting Calf address’d; | |
| To save from death a friend distress’d: | |
| ‘Shall I,’ says he, ‘of tender age, | 55 |
| In this important care engage? | |
| Older and abler pass’d you by; | |
| How strong are those! how weak am I! | |
| Should I presume to bear you hence, | |
| Those friends of mine may take offence. | 60 |
| Excuse me, then. You know my heart | |
| But dearest friends, alas! must part; | |
| How shall we all lament! Adieu, | |
| For see the hounds are just in view. | |
| |
