Pigeon Carriers

An introductory Fable.

WHEN we correctly place the glass,
And view things truly as they pass,
By seeing in a proper light,
Our conduct may be just and right:
But many, who to sense pretend,
Gazing thro' the improper end,
With pompous arrogance declare
The thing they see is round or square,
Is great or small, is dark or pale,
Then act, and wonder when they fail.
        Two Pigeons, by aerial flights,
Set things most difficult to rights;

They pass'd large tracts of land and seas
With most important messages;
Beneath their wings they safely bore
Intelligence to distant shore,
Whether to load the heart with grief,
Or soothe the mind and give relief,
On rapid wings the tidings flew,
Success and disappointment too.
These mounting once the azure sky,
Their destination to descry,
Neither could clearly make appear,
The course direct they ought to steer,
Or how far northward, or to west,
But each pronounced his judgment best.
Thus asserting and denying,
His own opinion justifying,
Indignant spread his wings in scorn,
So by an adverse route were borne;
The air with well-formed pinions ply'd,
And Observation was the guide.

Time, which ne'er faileth to disclose
Even what's done beneath the rose,
Reveal'd the fate of one poor bird,
Whose course was right, as he aver'd,
Who to his point had truly steer'd,
Howe'er the wind had chang'd and veer'd.
The wish'd-for signal met his sight,
His eye surveyed, and knew 't was right!
Chear'd by the view, he onward strain'd,
But transient was the bliss obtain'd.
Spies who were set to intercept
His way as through the air he swept,
When his weary task was ending,
Saw him gracefully descending,
An arrow from a bow so well
Was aimed, that the Pigeon fell;
It struck him deeply thro' the heart,
And thus was finished his part.
        The bird who steer'd a random course,
Surely could not have fared worse.--

But let whatever ills betide,
Be Right considered our true guide.--
He reach'd the port the second morn,
And safe were his credentials borne.
The spies, who thought their duty o'er
Were all departed from the shore;
The few to whom the news pertain'd,
The only persons that remain'd;
With tenderness they kindly used
The Pigeon that was self-accus'd,
Because he deign'd not to pursue
The track in which his comrade flew.
        "Poor bird," said he, "I mourn your lot,
"Nor be it e'er by me forgot,
"How true and well you did your part,
"With an unerring eye and heart;
"Whilst arrogant, and full of pride,
"I your opinion dar'd deride.

"There's nought but right can bear the test,
"Tho' wrong hath now succeeded best.
"Let no one then false airs assume,
"Or ever on his luck presume:
"He that doth right may not succeed ;
"He that doth wrong, be wrong indeed;
"And in himself will feel contempt,
"From which the other is exempt."
        THOSE who this simple fable read,
May kindly wish me to succeed;
'Tis hop'd none will condemn me quite,
Whose aim is ever to act right,
And please those readers that peruse
The fictions of my sportive muse,
That makes the brute creation talk,
Birds reason, and the forests walk.
Could I but boast my wolves and bears
Amuse grown people or their heirs,
I then should fancy I am right,
And shew things in their truest light:

But if I fail in my design,
The disappointment will be mine;
For praises few I should obtain,
To compensate my labours vain,
Haply, should these my efforts tend
One head t'enrich, or heart to mend,
If they one folly but correct,
Or one flagitious vice detect,
A pleasure will from thence accrue,
Tho' neither gain or praise ensue,
Proudly I'll select the story,
And resign the fame and glory.

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.