Fable XXII The Four Bulls
Friendship! source of bliss sedate,
Best balm for all the wounds of fate!
’Tis thine the sinking heart to raise,
When love retires, and health decays;
Unmix’d with thy sublimer fire,
Love’s but a fev’rish low desire,
And ill the self-destroying flame
Deserves that soft angelic name.
Oh! could this verse, this fabling lay,
Extend or but confirm thy sway!
Or, warn’d by this, if only one
Thy foes’ destructive arts shall shun!
Since dangers rise with every sun,
With ev’ry sand united run;
Four Bulls, by mutual vows ally’d,
The morrow’s unknown ills defy’d;
As one they mov’d, they fought, they fed,
And safety rose by union bred,
Nor this alone the good they found,
The private bliss of each went round;
Hence doubly bless’d the gen’rous heart,
Which scorns the bliss it can’t impart.
From day to day the Lion came,
But matters still appear’d the same:
This smote his inmost soul with grief,
For much he long’d for fav’rite beef;
What can he do? he fears to wage
Unequal war, and four engage.
Thought follows thought—he finds in vain:
Yet thought to thought succeeds again.
Half-form’d resolves, and embryo schemes,
And all the train of statesmen’s dreams,
With conflict rude disturb his mind,
To this nor that success inclin’d.
Suspense presides with fluttering wings,
From which she shakes a thousand stings.
In this disastrous doubting case,
The Fox appears—with thinking face;
On him his royal master laid
His load of care, secure of aid;
Who paus’d a while with sober grace,
Then thus refin’d upon the case:—
Not things of moment most, I find,
Have broke the union of the mind;
Ev’n mere mistakes, that pet or pride
Have made, the sacred band divide,
And deepest enmities arise.
From trifling things among the wise.
In friendship, slight’s the deepest wound,
And that is fancy’d more than found.
These hints improv’d, our ends may gain,
The Bulls divided, count ’em slain;
The Lion, pleas’d, reply’d, he knew
The Fox could forge a lie—or two;
Which he opin’d, in points like this,
Would not be very much amiss.
Here wiser Reynard shook his head,
And this would never do, he said:
’Tis ours to make these foolish elves,
My lord, be liars to themselves:
Suspicion rais’d, the very eye
Will unsuspected gravely lie,
And, when a friend it shall survey,
Th’ idea of a foe display,
As you shall see—— Away he flew,
And, to the friends as near he drew,
He smooth’d his brow, he coin’d a smile,
And put on all the masks of guile.
Then whispers one with friendly nod,
“Mark, is not yon behaviour odd?
The Bull must surely mean affront,
His tail is next you—fie upon’t!
How slighting that! and there’s another
Can scarce some high resentment smother;
He snorts, he paws, and fain would shew
By vengeance whence his troubles flow.
The third, how dull! regardless still,
What fate you prove, or good or ill.”
Appearance (treach’rous witness) here
Confirms the sounds that cheat his ear;
Suspicion soon alarm’d, and pride,
At once, to self the whole apply’d.
The Bull withdraws, resolv’d as due,
They first for his return should sue.
The Fox returns, and boasts his arts,
And to his liege the truth imparts:
“The Bull who turn’d his tail so rude,
Meant only not his ear t’ intrude;
And he that spurn’d so fierce the ground
With anguish felt a hornet wound.
The third, the downy turf who prest,
Sought but the sweets of peaceful rest.
But come, to his remote retreat
I’ll guide my royal master’s feet.”
They go; the victim mourns too late
His absent friends and helpless state.
And slain, the Fox exulting cries,
“Not one but all shall be our prize.”
Away he goes, and thus again
Infus’d soft flatt’ry, deadly bane!
“Great sir (says he to one), I swear
Your friends are rude, indeed they are;
Friendship a decent due respect
Should, rather than destroy, protect.
Superior far to these you rise,
The wise affirm: we trust the wise;
Your nobler port, your finer wit,
All with united voice admit;
And yet no just distinction’s made
No deference shewn, no homage paid.
I wonder at your choice, but here
’Tis silence best becomes my sphere,
Tho’ might your slave presume to tell
What all the forest thinks as well,
These are perhaps the only Two
With whom your worth would lose its due.”
The Bull (how easy praise deceives!)
With pleasure hears, with pride believes;
Puts on the lofty looks and airs
Which humble merit never wears.
To treat him as an equal now
Inflames his heart, contracts his brow
’Tis envy, or, ’tis worse, ’tis hate,
Denies due honour to his state;
He could not bear th’ affronts they gave,
They break his peace, they make him rave;
They lov’d and they rever’d, he thought,
Less than the wretches knew they ought;
And (as is usual) storm’d and swore
That they might love and rev’rence more.
His friends, alarm’d, in deep amaze
On him, and on each other, gaze,
Disgust, in either’s bosom bred,
Was shewn as diff’ring tempers led,
One bold and warm the taunts returns,
And with contagious anger burns,
Than this, not plagues are sooner caught,
Nor with more dreadful evils fraught,
The other, meek, in secret pines,
And friends he could not keep resigns;
Resigns, tho’ late, with yearning heart,
And mourns persuasion’s useless art.
Retiring now he leaves the fray,
The Fox still mark’d his pensive way,
The Lion found and seiz’d his prize,
And, like the first, the second dies.
The two who yet alive remain,
In dreadful conflict shake the plain;
The Fox observes the doubtful fight,
One drops—he smiles with fell delight;
Flies with the joyful news, and brings
The King to take what’s now the King’s.
Faint, breathless, bleeding on the ground,
The hapless victor soon they found;
He falls an unresisting prey,
And crowns the triumphs of the day.
This tale a sage once told his son,
And thus apply’d it when he’d done:—
“Do you, my child, with unsuspecting eye,
O’erlook what others labour to descry;
Kind to all faults, and to all failings blind,
Be you the last to think affronts design’d.
Cold seems thy friend?—by the severest laws
Thy conduct try, to find the latent cause.
Let thy heart pant for universal praise,
Such as, unbrib’d, to virtue, virtue pays.
Is this withheld? try ev’ry winning art
To melt the hard, to soothe the froward heart.
Sue for esteem—to all but fawning bend,
Whom this will purchase is a worthless friend;
But scorn the thought as vainest of the vain,
That what good-nature loses, pride will gain.
Less than your merit does your friend approve?
Still merit more—his love constrain with love.
This conduct try’d remains he still the same?
Learn you to pity what the world will blame.
The gen’ral censure, his neglect ensures,
Thy honour brightens and thy praise secures.”