An Animal In The Moon
While one philosopher affirms
That by our senses we’re deceived,
Another swears, in plainest terms,
The senses are to be believed.
The twain are right. Philosophy
Correctly calls us dupes whenever
On mere senses we rely.
Book 7
The Cat, the Weasel, and the Young Rabbit
John Rabbit’s palace under ground
Was once by Goody Weasel found.
She, sly of heart, resolved to seize
The place, and did so at her ease.
She took possession while its lord
Was absent on the dewy sward,
The Fortune-Tellers
It’s often from chance opinion takes its rise,
And into reputation multiplies.
This prologue finds pat applications
In men of all this world’s vocations;
For fashion, prejudice, and party strife,
Conspire to crowd poor justice out of life.
The Ingratitude And Injustice Of Men Towards Fortune
A trader on the sea to riches grew;
Freight after freight the winds in favour blew;
Fate steered him clear; gulf, rock, nor shoal
Of all his bales exacted toll.
Of other men the powers of chance and storm
Their dues collected in substantial form;
The Two Cocks
Two cocks in peace were living, when
A war was kindled by a hen.
O love, you bane of Troy! It was thine
The blood of men and gods to shed
Enough to turn the Xanthus red
As old Port wine!
The Man Who Ran After Fortune, and the Man Who Waited For Her In His Bed
Who joins not with his restless race
To give Dame Fortune eager chase?
O, had I but some lofty perch,
From which to view the panting crowd
Of care-worn dreamers, poor and proud,
As on they hurry in the search,