Or, the Uses of Adversity

An Oyster, full of health and pride, Once heard a Muscle by his side O’er cruel fate repine; Driv’n by the tyrant flood to roam An outcast from his river-home, And sicken in the brine.

While faint lay one and gaped half-dead, The other hugg’d his native bed, And snuggled in his shell: “Poor paltry child of ooze!” he spake, “From Ocean’s sons example take, “And dare to laugh at ill.”

E’en as he spake, the dredgers came, And fish’d him from his depth amain, And stow’d him in the boat: To London thence he found his way, Where high and dry with more he lay,— A dozen for a groat.

The play was o’er, the people throng’d; Yet fear’d he nought, howe’er he long’d In Ocean’s sand to delve: But now a Captain of the Blues Dropt in at Arthur’s to carouse, And call’d for oysters twelve.

The word went out, the knife went in; Our Oyster naked to the skin Was brought upon a plate: The Captain saw, the Captain seized, And quick three drops of lemon squeezed Upon his smarting pate.

The pride of the Ocean then gave way; He crisp’d his beard, (as people say) And fetch’d a heavy groan: Ah me! he thought; how light to bear The troubles of our neighbours are; How grievous are our own!