A lion, sick of pomp and state, Resolved his cares to delegate. Reynard was viceroy named--the crowd Of courtiers to the regent bowed; Wolves, bears, and tigers stoop and bend, And strive who most could condescend; Whilst he, with wisdom in his face, Assumed the regal grace and pace. Whilst flattery hovered him around, And the pleased ear in thraldom bound, A fox, well versed in adulation, Rose to pronounce the due oration:
"Vast talents, trained in virtue's school, With clemency, from passion cool-- And uncorrupted--such a hand Will shed abundance o'er the land. The brain shall prompt the wiser part, Mercy and justice rule the heart; All blessings must attend the nation Under such bright administration."
A gander heard and understood, And summoned round his gosling brood: "Whene'er you hear a rogue commended, Be sure some mischief is intended; A fox now spoke in commendation-- Foxes no doubt will rise in station; If they hold places, it is plain The geese will feel a tyrant reign. 'Tis a sad prospect for our race When every petty clerk in place Will follow fashion, and ne'er cease On holidays to feed on geese."
What stupid nonsense must the Beauty Endure in her diurnal duty-- Buzzings and whispers from the stores Of the fatuities of bores! Yet such impertinence must be pleasing, Or Beauty would resent such teazing. A flap will drive a fly away, A frown will drive a dog to bay: So if the insects are persistent 'Twas Beauty that was inconsistent! And if she does not know herself, Blame not the persecuting elf.
It chanced upon a summer day That Boris in her boudoir lay-- She the last work of God's fair creatures, Contemplated her faultless features. A wasp assailed her so reclined, Bred of a persecuting kind. He now advanced, and now retreated, Till Beauty's neck and face grew heated; She smote him with her fan: she said Wasps were excessively ill bred. But the wasp answered her: "Alas! Before you blame me, view your glass. 'Twas beauty caused me to presume; Those cherry lips, that youthful bloom, Allured me from the plums and peaches To Beauty, which the soul o'erreaches."
"Don't hit him, Jenny!" Doris cried: "The race of wasps is much belied; I must recant what I have said,-- Wasps are remarkably well bred."