The Pheasant and the Lark

A FABLE BY DR. DELANY

1730

quis iniquae
Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se?--Juv. i, 30.

In ancient times, as bards indite, (If clerks have conn'd the records right.) A peacock reign'd, whose glorious sway His subjects with delight obey: His tail was beauteous to behold, Replete with goodly eyes and gold; Fair emblem of that monarch's guise, Whose train at once is rich and wise; And princely ruled he many regions, And statesmen wise, and valiant legions.

A pheasant lord,[1] above the rest, With every grace and talent blest, Was sent to sway, with all his skill, The sceptre of a neighbouring hill.[2] No science was to him unknown, For all the arts were all his own: In all the living learned read, Though more delighted with the dead: For birds, if ancient tales say true, Had then their Popes and Homers too; Could read and write in prose and verse, And speak like ----, and build like Pearce.[3] He knew their voices, and their wings, Who smoothest soars, who sweetest sings; Who toils with ill-fledged pens to climb, And who attain'd the true sublime. Their merits he could well descry, He had so exquisite an eye; And when that fail'd to show them clear, He had as exquisite an ear; It chanced as on a day he stray'd Beneath an academic shade, He liked, amidst a thousand throats, The wildness of a Woodlark's[4] notes, And search'd, and spied, and seized his game, And took him home, and made him tame; Found him on trial true and able, So cheer'd and fed him at his table.

Here some shrewd critic finds I'm caught, And cries out, "Better fed than taught"--Then jests on game and tame, and reads, And jests, and so my tale proceeds.

Long had he studied in the wood, Conversing with the wise and good: His soul with harmony inspired, With love of truth and virtue fired: His brethren's good and Maker's praise Were all the study of his lays; Were all his study in retreat, And now employ'd him with the great. His friendship was the sure resort Of all the wretched at the court; But chiefly merit in distress His greatest blessing was to bless.--

This fix'd him in his patron's breast, But fired with envy all the rest: I mean that noisy, craving crew, Who round the court incessant flew, And prey'd like rooks, by pairs and dozens, To fill the maws of sons and cousins: "Unmoved their heart, and chill'd their blood To every thought of common good, Confining every hope and care, To their own low, contracted sphere." These ran him down with ceaseless cry, But found it hard to tell you why, Till his own worth and wit supplied Sufficient matter to deride: "'Tis envy's safest, surest rule, To hide her rage in ridicule: The vulgar eye she best beguiles, When all her snakes are deck'd with smiles: Sardonic smiles, by rancour raised! Tormented most when seeming pleased!" Their spite had more than half expired, Had he not wrote what all admired; What morsels had