The Goat without a Beard

Moral: No Moral. Suggest us a moral of this fable in comment section.
‘Tis strange to see a new−launched fashion
Lay on the soul and grow a passion.
To illustrate such folly, I
Proffer some beast to the mind’s eye.
Now I select the goat. What then?
I never said goats equal men.
A goat of singularity—
Not vainer than a goat need be—
Lay on a thymy bank, and viewed
Himself reflected in the flood.
“Confound my beard!” he thought, and said;
“How badly it becomes my head;
Upon my honour! women might
Take me to be some crazy wight.”
He sought the barber of the place,—
A monkey ’twas, of Moorish race,
Who shaved mankind, drew teeth, and bled.
A pole diagonal—striped red,
Teeth in their row in order strung,
And pewter bason by them slung,
Far in the street projecting stood—
The pole with bandage symboled blood.
Pug shaved our friend and took his penny,
And hoped to shave him oft and many;
Goatee, impatient of applause,
Then sought his native hills and shaws.
“Heigh−day! how now? whoever heard—
What gone and shaven off your beard?”
The fop replied: “All realms polite,
From Roman to the Muscovite,
Now trim their beards and shave their chins;
Shall we, like Monkish Capuchins,
Alone be singular and hairy?
One walks amidst the cities cheery,
And men and boys all cease to poke
Fun at the beard by way of joke—
In days of old, so Romans jeered
Stoic philosophers with beard.”
“Friend,” said a bearded chieftain, “you
At Rome may do as Romans do;
But if you refuge with our herd,
I counsel you to keep your beard:
For if you dread the jeers of others,
How will you bear it from your brothers?”

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