The Man and the Pointer

'TWOULD really almost vex the saints,
To hear each creature make complaints.
        The Snail lamented, he, alack!
Carried his house upon his back;
And who could ever rest content,
That under such a burthen bent!
        The Lark, who heard him, said--"I swear
" 'Tis good to have a house to bear;
"For in the fields, the whole year round,
"My resting-place is on the ground."
        "And what of that," reply'd the Crow,
"Your happiness you do not know:

"My nest upon the high tree top,
"It rocks, it shakes, as if 't would drop;
"And when the storm alarms us all,
"You're safe, and can no lower fall."
        The Linnet said--" 'Tis fine to preach,
"When you are safe and out of reach:
"What boy can mount to take your young,
"Or ever heeds your clam'rous tongue?
"Notes like mine entice each stranger;
"Pleasing most, am most in danger."
        A Partridge, springing from the corn,
Fan'd the air on wings up borne,
Attentive, in a trembling state,
She heard the querulous debate:--
"Alas!" she cry'd, "if it were true,
"That I were less admir'd than you,
"I should not at this moment shake,
"And feel my throbbing heart to ache:
"Men like your music, soft and chaste;
"But me alas! they love to taste:

"Triumphant not, but sad my boast,
"For could I sing, I should not roast."
        A Pointer cry'd--"The ills I bear,
"Still more severe and deeper are;
"Blows I get,--and for reproaches,--
"Safer is the wretch that poaches:
"I scent the birds, I mark the game,
"My master kills not, yet the blame
"Lighteth on me, tho' cause there's none.
"Then fly, nor fear his harmless gun,
"Which, in spite of his endeavour,
"Ne'er will hurt a single feather:
"I should rejoice to see you free,
"Altho' he vent his spleen on me."
        Now the bird, in firm reliance,
Sprang, and bid the man defiance.
        "Who," cries the Gunner, "can bear this?
"I fire too late and ever miss:

"Pointer, by thee I am misled,
"The mischief fall upon thy head.
"In scale of beings, foremost Man,
"Yet disturbed in ev'ry plan;
"With honors, power, and with wealth,
"Wretched, from creatures like yourself."

MORAL.

Thus Man, who ever most enjoys,
Keenest invective oft employs.

Original fables by a Lady

Printed by W. Calvert, Shire Lane, Lincoln's Inn, for B. Crosby and Co. London, 1810

To your Royal Highness the following Fables are dedicated, with a wish that in an interval of leisure some transient amusement may be obtained.