The Bear, the Ape, and the Pig
A bear, whose dancing hel to gain
His own and owne livelihood,
And whose success had made him vain
As any petit-maitre, stood
Upon his hinder legs to try
The figure of a new quadrille,
When, seeing that an Ape was nigh,
He stump’d about with all his skill,
And, “Tell me how you like,” he cried,
“My dancing, for always glad
To hear the truth.” The Ape replied,
“I really think it very bad.”
“’Tis plain enough,” rejoin’d the Bear,
“That envy makes you censure so;
For have I not a graceful air,
A slender shape and limber toe?”
But here a tasteless Pig began
To grunt applause, and said, “I vow
I’ve never met, in brute or man,
With one who danced so well as thou.”
The bear, on hearing this, became
Sedate and pensive for awhile;
And then, as if abash’d with shame.
Replied, in a more humble style:
“The agile Ape’s rebuke might be
Inspired by jealousy or spleen;
But, since the Pig commends, I see
How bad my dancing must have been.”
Let every author think on this,
And hold the maxim for a rule—
The worst that can befall him is
The approbation of a fool.
Yriarte (1750-1791). Trans. R. Rockliff.