The old Wolf and Her Cubs

EXPERIENCE often bids us say,
Advice to youth is thrown away:
But then experience says again,
Let talking be however vain,
Mothers, aunts, and ancient cousins,
Deal out cautions by the dozens.
        A WOLF , once hardy, rough, and bold,
Was now grown weak and very old;
Her days were wearing to an end,
Without obtaining any friend.
Her retrospective views gave pain;
She wish'd to pass her life again:

Resolv'd, could she her time renew,
Just and mild courses to pursue,
        Calling around her gaping Cubs,
Who thought she had the mulligrubs,
She charg'd the hungry rav'ning brood,
To be less thirsty after blood:
Alluded to the dire mishaps
Ensuing oft from dogs and traps:
And for proofs--if wanted any--
In herself existed many.
She vow'd no tender lamb again
Should ever more by her be slain.
Then felt a joy, this duty o'er,
Had not been witnessed before;
She felt what wolves full rarely know,
The joys which from good actions flow:
And exhortations done and past,
She seem'd much quieter at last.

        The worry'd Cubs wish'd not for more.
Her growling blessings being o'er,
They greet, as signal for departure;
All that they had listen'd after,
Yet seem'd to take her anxious cares
As much to heart as human heirs.
        Releas'd, depart the howling crew,
Uncertain what they ought to do.
One said--"We cannot live by rule;
"Our mother's old, and grown a fool;
"We'll listen not to her again,
"But all start off, and scour the plain."
        So forth they went, their ill star led--
And can there be a worse thing said?--
Dogs surround from ev'ry quarter;
Dismal scene of blood and slaughter!
Some were sadly maim'd and torn;
Others left even more forlorn
Than the old Wolf, who staid at home,
And charg'd the young ones not to roam.

        One, in an agony of pain,
Limp'd off and cry'd--"I'll ne'er again,
"So rash, and so ungovern'd be;
"My mother now may out live me:
"She is not the fool I thought her--
"But much wiser than her daughter."
        This most prudent Cub, we are told,
Saw length of years, and grew quite old:
Mark'd the same faults in all her young,
Reprov'd them in her mother tongue;
Heard them remit it down again
To wild ones roving o'er the plain.
        Thus all that ever yet were born,
Give the advice they took with scorn.

MORAL.

As up life's rugged steep you rise,
The friendly admonition prize.

Many a bitter pang shall share,
Who scorns a parent's tender care.
If Reason's eye could pierce so far,
To see not only what things are,
But what the future may produce,
Advice would be of little use.
Experience still affords a proof,
We seldom get advice enough.

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.