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Philosopher And Pheasant.
by John GayA sage awakened by the dawn,
By music of the groves was drawn
From tree to tree: responsive notes
Arose from many warbling throats.
As he advanced, the warblers ceased;
Silent the bird and scared the beast -
The nightingale then ceased her lay,
And the scared leveret ran away.
The sage then pondered, and his eye
Roamed round to learn the reason why.
He marked a pheasant, as she stood
Upon a bank, above her brood;
With pride maternal beat her breast
As she harangued and led from nest:
"Play on, my infant brood - this glen
Is free from bad marauding men.
O trust the hawk, and trust the kite,
Sooner than man - detested wight!
Ingratitude sticks to his mind, -
A vice inherent to the kind.
The sheep, that clothes him with her wool,
Dies at the shambles - butcher's school;
The honey-bees with waxen combs
Are slain by hives and hecatombs;
And the sagacious goose, who gives
The plume whereby he writes and lives,
And as a guerdon for its use
He cuts the quill and eats the goose.
Avoid the monster: where he roams
He desolates our raided homes;
And where such acts and deeds are boasted,
I hear we pheasants all are roasted."