CXLIX The Lion and the Cub
A lion cub, of sordid mind,
Avoided all the lion kind;
Fond of applause, he sought the feasts
Of vulgar and ignoble beasts;
With asses all his time he spent,
Their club’s perpetual president.
He caught their manners, looks, and airs;
An ass in everything but ears!
If e’er his Highness meant a joke,
They grinn’d applause before he spoke;
But at each word what shouts of praise;
Goodness! how natural he brays!
Elate with flattery and conceit,
He seeks his royal sire’s retreat;
Forward and fond to show his parts,
His Highness brays; the lion starts.
‘Puppy! that curs’d vociferation
Betrays thy life and conversation:
Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race,
Are trumpets of their own disgrace.
‘Why so severe?’ the cub replies;
‘Our senate always held me wise!’
‘How weak is pride,’ returns the sire:
‘All fools are vain when fools admire!
But know, what stupid asses prize,
Lions and noble beasts despise.’
J. Gay