Fable II. Alexander's Stick

God Alexander, it was said, Like mortal man, lay sick in bed: Without—'tis said, without—we hear, How can a fabulist appear? Once on a day—once on a night— Time out of mind—are ours of right. So far digrest, let's retrograde, Like others of the rhyming trade, And tell our story as we can— This son of Jove was but a man: In bed we left him, and no doubt, You long to know his ail:—the gout. The gout! are kings tormented thus? Have they infirmities like us? Why not? one clay makes up our frame; And kings and subjects are the same. It happen'd, where our god was sick, That on the carpet lay a stick; Yes, a crabstick by chance lay there, No matter how, or whence, or where. The wanted stick was valued much, And soon was fashion'd into crutch. And now the monarch's dear support, He thinks himself, like some at court, Of such importance to the state, All must on him obsequious wait. Such merit never can be slighted; And to be sure he will be knighted. And then aloud how fame will blab, That he is dubb'd Sir Broomstick Crab! Favour at court, I've often read, Intoxicates the wisest head: If so, ye courtiers, by your leave, How must a simpleton behave? Sir Crab now hopes to be his grace, Since he supplies the sceptre's place; For if a sceptre's really good, Be it of silver, gold, or wood, 'Tis not the matter which we prize, In merit all the difference lies. Merit I have no doubt, or why Should this great king on me rely? Last night, his generals around him Had left him all just as they found him; But with my help the god-like man Of future conquests form'd the plan; Trac'd in the sand, in case of need, How to fall back, and when proceed; Here we make war; there peace proclaim; With us great folks 'tis all the same. Yet we'll pursue an honest plan, And fix the limits—if we can. But who shall check our bold career? Ambition knows of no barrier: Not rapid Ganges, deep and wide, Its bordering kingdoms can divide: If so, these kingdoms all shall prove, What 'tis t' oppose the son of Jove. Thus, whilst our new-made courtier fed The wild chimera in his head, Some rest the gouty hero gains; He finds a respite from his pains; And growing better every day, The useless stick is thrown away. By this example warning take, Ye courtiers! ye who dream awake: Court-favours are precarious things; The wind will change—and so may kings.