Fable III The Wolf and the Dog
A prowling Wolf, that scour’d the plains,
To ease his hunger’s griping pains,
Ragged as courtier in disgrace,
Hide-bound, and lean, and out of case,
By chance a well-fed Dog espy’d,
And being kin, and near ally’d,
He civilly salutes the cur:
“How do you, Cuz? Your servant, sir.
O happy friend! how gay thy mien!
How plump thy sides, how sleek thy skin!
Triumphant plenty shines all o’er,
And the fat melts at ev’ry pore!
While I, alas! decay’d and old,
With hunger pin’d, and stiff with cold,
With many a howl and hideous groan,
Tell the relentless woods my moan.
Pr’ythee (my happy friend!) impart
Thy wondrous, cunning, thriving art.”
“Why, faith, I’ll tell thee as a friend,
But first thy surly manners mend;
Be complaisant, obliging, kind,
And leave the Wolf for once behind.”
The Wolf, whose mouth began to water,
With joy and rapture gallop’d after,
When thus the Dog: “At bed and board,
I share the plenty of my lord;
From ev’ry guest I claim a fee,
Who court my lord by bribing me.
In mirth I revel all the day,
And many a game at romps I play:
I fetch and carry, leap o’er sticks,
With twenty such diverting tricks.”
“’Tis pretty, faith,” the Wolf reply’d,
And on his neck the collar spy’d:
He starts, and without more ado,
He bids the abject wretch adieu:
“Enjoy your dainties, friend; to me
The noblest feast is liberty:
The famish’d Wolf, upon these desert plains,
Is happier than a fawning cur in chains.”