Fable XXX. the Milk White Mouse

Are there who own a ray of sense, Yet controvert a PROVIDENCE? Who see the glorious Sun arise, To light our Globe, and gild the skies; Who view those countless gems which grace The boundless, blue Aethereal space; Who hear the Thunder's awful crash, Who see the Light'ning's fearful flash; The fleecy clouds, the azure main, Th' aspiring hill, and humble plain; Who e'er have seen with curious eye, The wonders of Anatomy; Or view in order most correct, Beyond what mortals could project, The vegetable world advance, Yet say that All is born of chance?

Why Sceptics labour to disprove, Almighty Pow'r, Almighty Love; And madly shut conviction out, To entertain the Phantom Doubt; Say, WALMSLEY—for to thee is known, RELIGION plac'd on REASON'S throne; And none with fitter head, or heart, Her balmy precepts can impart; Remove the veil from darken'd eyes, Bid Truth in all her charms arise; And pour resistless on the sight, To show "WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT;"— Unless when ignorance or pride, From Wisdom's precepts turn aside.

Lo!—form'd on Nature's noblest plan, How discontent, how vain is man? How groundless in ill plac'd desires, As opposite as frosts and fires; Let Seasons vary as they will, Some cares, some faults perplex him still: The scorching Summer burns his ground, Next Rains descend; and then he's drown'd: His situation always such, Heav'n sends too little, or too much. WISDOM too oft attacks in vain, Such impious self-created pain; For Ignorance, a mere BUFFOON, And Pride, a relative POLTROON, The blushing Goddess may out-face, With insolent and low grimace; Yet where her graver axioms fail, Disguis'd in ALLEGORIC tale; Oft with success she plays her part, And, tickling Fancy, steals the heart; Then let the Muse in masquerade, Invoke the friendly, blue-ey'd Maid.

Her strains attend, each proud ingrate, Nor murmur at unerring Fate; For tho' portentous clouds should low'r, And tempests shake thy present hour; The storm may pass, and on its wings Bear from thy breast ten thousand stings; And humble Hope, and pious Love, Draw down protection from above; Yet howsoe'er thy Fortune sails, With fav'ring tides, and prosp'rous gales, With caution steer towards thy port, Nor 'midst surrounding dangers sport.

A MOUSE, whose silky fur could show Less fair the purest Alpine snow; Had long a fav'rite cupboard haunted, For sustenance which Nature wanted; Nor ever with voracious mind, At lack of various food repin'd; But bless'd with crusts of bread and cheese, Enjoy'd content, and liv'd at ease.

One night—one most important night! Allur'd by DIAN'S silv'ry light; The little wand'rer ventur'd out, And to a neighbour's took its route; Where soon—its former haunts forsaken— Drawn by the scent of toasted bacon, With headlong speed—Oh dire mishap! It rush'd into the baited trap; The dainty seiz'd, and bless'd that star, Which led to such delicious fare; Admir'd the thought which taught to roam, From tasteless, mouldy scraps at home, Then prais'd, with joy, the happier lot Of this unknown, luxurious spot.

As fools the present moment prize, Nor forward deign to cast their eyes; The little Captive thought no less, Than lasting, perfect happiness; And on reflection grew quite vain, To think its all-sufficient brain Alone, with matchless sense profound, This more than golden mine had found; How blind all other Mice! it cries, MYSELF, am wisest of the wise.

Now gorg'd with most delicious cate, It finds surrounding bars too late; From top to bottom fear-struck flies, Attempts to creep, attempts to rise; But finding it in vain to try, For home despis'd and liberty; To give it's anxious heart relief, On FORTUNE vents the storm of grief; Exclaims against her as unkind, And calls her partial, cruel, blind; Nor once admits, in distant thought, SELF, mighty SELF, in any fault.

The favour it had long enjoy'd, This single accident destroy'd; Five minutes unexpected pain, Now ballanc'd years of blissful gain. Ungrateful MOUSE!—nay foolish too, Extend thy dim, contracted view; Plac'd in thy native cupboard see, That night GRIMALKIN watch for thee; And had not fortune led from home, An hungry CAT had been thy doom; Then yield to patience fretful strife, Thy FREEDOM lost prolongs thy LIFE.

With morning came WHIMSILLA'S maid, By whom the lucky trap was laid. She came—and seiz'd with strange delight To see a MOUSE so lovely white, Straight to her mistress bore in haste, A gift so suited to her TASTE.

WHIMSILLA views with ravish'd eyes, So beautiful, so rich a prize, And struck with each inchanting feature, Doats on the dear bewitching creature; What wonders are by trifles wrought? The silver cage, the almonds bought, Away flies ev'ry anxious thought— No vapours now, happen what will; No tho' last night she lost—CODILLE.—

Pamper'd, caress'd on ev'ry side, The captive, too elate with pride, Grew more distinguishing and nice, Than any of the tribe of MICE, Indulg'd excess, nor ever thought Of what the pleasing change had wrought; But like a petted, darling child, With misapplied indulgence wild, To beauty gave the total merit, Of all it did, or could inherit; And vainly said of ev'ry bliss, My worth deserves much more than this; For wishes with enjoyment grew, (Experience proves this maxim true) 'Till fretted Fortune thus pursued, By folly, and ingratitude, Resolv'd in just and settled state, To show a sad reverse of fate.

Each day WHIMSILLA'S love grew stronger; Her maid could bear her toil no longer; Who sorely wearied with attendance, (The servile curse of her dependance) Resolv'd, that slily turn'd a-drift, The favorite once more should shift.

This fatal plan no sooner laid, But when her mistress went to bed, She quitted her perplexing charge, And set the pris'ner quite at large, Who by indulgence grown a FOOL, Ran just beneath a watchful OWL, Whose crop became a speedy grave, Whence boasted BEAUTY could not save.

Hence mortals learn—be timely wise— Check imperfections as they rise; And know, in those who vainly boast, Both charms and virtues all are lost; That human kind, or rich, or poor, If proud, ungrateful and secure; Insulted FORTUNE soon may chouse, Just as she did the MILK WHITE MOUSE.