The Goose and The Farmer

A BROOD of Geese was rambling o'er
A damp low green by cottage door;
They plump and fit were, all but one,
Who, wretched bird! of flesh had none,
Scarce had strength enough to hobble,
Voice to cry out, gobble, gobble.
Day after day, and weeks went by,
Till Michaelmas at last drew nigh.
To fair the plump and hearty went,
But the poor lean one was not sent.
The Farmer knew it was no use,
To carry there a sick lame Goose,
When some weeks of rich dry stubble
Just would make her value double.

So from the barn door to the field,
She found what health and plenty yield.
But with these gifts, tho' rich the store,
She felt she wanted something more;
She sought her mates, who, fat and rude,
Did often on her peace obtrude.
And now grown hearty, plump, and strong,
She gabbled as she pass'd along,
With ardour wishing to renew
Acquaintance with the happy crew.
Society by man is sought;
She sought it too, by nature taught;
'Tis a gift, by heaven design'd
To harmonize the restless mind.
While thoughts like these her heart imprest,
She stately stood, and rear'd her crest;
Seeing the Farmer at his gate,
She waddled off in solemn state;
And being clear that her demand
Was what he ought not to withstand,

Exclaimed, in a haughty tone--
        ''Why am I doom'd to live alone?
"Time seemeth for to have no end:
"Give me companions, and a friend;
"For friendship I would fain renew
"With that same happy brood I knew;
"Which I suppose are at their ease,
"Roving, wandering, where they please."
        "Yes, in Elysian fields," he cry'd,
Laughing almost to split his side,
"Where you shall go;--but no matter,--
"Try to get a little fatter."
        Elated was the Goose, to find
The Farmer prove so very kind;
And elated was the Farmer,
Who knew fretting much would harm her.
        "Those fields," said she, "pray are they near?
"I'd fatten there, as well as here."

        "Silence, fool," the Farmer cried,
"Your wants will soon be all supply'd;
"March along to yonder stubble,
"For the future, take no trouble,
"As in a market day or two,
"Of those same fields you'll have a view."

MORAL.

Fate concealeth what is certain,
And in kindness holds the curtain.

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.