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  FABLE XIV.

  THE OWL, THE SWAN, THE COCK, THE SPIDER, THE
  ASS, AND THE FARMER.

  TO A MOTHER.

  Conversing with your sprightly boys,
  Your eyes have spoke the mother’s joys. 
  With what delight I’ve heard you quote
  Their sayings in imperfect note! 
     I grant, in body and in mind,
  Nature appears profusely kind. 
  Trust not to that.  Act you your part;
  Imprint just morals on their heart,
  Impartially their talents scan: 
  Just education forms the man.
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     Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)
  Each lot of life’s already thrown;
  That this shall plead, the next shall fight,
  The last assert the church’s right. 
  I censure not the fond intent;
  But how precarious is the event! 
  By talents misapplied and cross’d,
  Consider, all your sons are lost. 
     One day (the tale’s by Martial penned)
  A father thus addressed his friend: 
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  ’To train my boy, and call forth sense,
  You know I’ve stuck at no expense;
  I’ve tried him in the several arts,
  (The lad no doubt hath latent parts,)
  Yet trying all, he nothing knows;
  But, crab-like, rather backward goes. 
  Teach me what yet remains undone;
  ‘Tis your advice shall fix my son.’ 
     ‘Sir,’ says the friend, ’I’ve weighed the matter;
  Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter: 
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  Make him (nor think his genius checked)
  A herald or an architect.’ 
     Perhaps (as commonly ’tis known)
  He heard the advice, and took his own. 
    The boy wants wit; he’s sent to school,
  Where learning but improves the fool: 
  The college next must give him parts,
  And cram him with the liberal arts. 
  Whether he blunders at the bar,
  Or owes his infamy to war;
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  Or if by licence or degree
  The sexton shares the doctor’s fee: 
  Or from the pulpit by the hour
  He weekly floods of nonsense pour;
  We find (the intent of nature foiled)
  A tailor or a butcher spoiled. 
     Thus ministers have royal boons
  Conferred on blockheads and buffoons: 
  In spite of nature, merit, wit,
  Their friends for every post were fit.
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     But now let every Muse confess
  That merit finds its due success. 
  The examples of our days regard;
  Where’s virtue seen without reward? 
  Distinguished and in place you find
  Desert and worth of every kind. 
  Survey the reverend bench, and see,
  Religion, learning, piety: 
  The patron, ere he recommends,
  Sees his own image in his friends.
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  Is honesty disgraced and poor? 
  What is’t to us what was before? 
     We all of times corrupt have heard,
  When paltry minions were preferred;
  When all great offices by dozens,
  Were filled by brothers, sons, and cousins.