;
Thus, by degrees, to power he grew.
Behold him now his drift attain:
He's made chief treasurer of the grain.
_90
But as their ancient laws are just,
And punish breach of public trust,
'Tis ordered (lest wrong application
Should starve that wise industrious nation)
That all accounts be stated clear,
Their stock, and what defrayed the year:
That auditors should these inspect, 97
And public rapine thus be checked.
For this the solemn day was set,
The auditors in council met.
_100
The granary-keeper must explain,
And balance his account of grain.
He brought (since he could not refuse 'em)
Some scraps of paper to amuse 'em.
An honest pismire, warm with zeal,
In justice to the public weal,
Thus spoke: 'The nation's hoard is low,
From whence doth this profusion flow?
I know our annual funds' amount.
Why such expense, and where's the account?'
_110
With wonted arrogance and pride,
The ant in office thus replied:
'Consider, sirs, were secrets told,
How could the best-schemed projects hold?
Should we state-mysteries disclose,
'Twould lay us open to our foes.
My duty and my well-known zeal
Bid me our present schemes conceal.
But on my honour, all the expense
(Though vast) was for the swarm's defence.
_120
They passed the account as fair and just,
And voted him implicit trust.
Next year again the granary drained,
He thus his innocence maintained:
'Think how our present matters stand,
What dangers threat from every hand;
What hosts of turkeys stroll for food,
No farmer's wife but hath her brood.
Consider, when invasion's near,
Intelligence must cost us dear;
_130
And, in this ticklish situation,
A secret told betrays the nation.
But, on my honour, all the expense
(Though vast) was for the swarm's defence.'
Again, without examination,
They thanked his sage administration.
The year revolves. The treasure spent,
Again in secret service went.
His honour too again was pledged,
To satisfy the charge alleged.
_140
When thus, with panic shame possessed,
An auditor his friends addressed:
'What are we? Ministerial tools.
We little knaves are greater fools.
At last this secret is explored;
'Tis our corruption thins the hoard.
For every grain we touched, at least
A thousand his own heaps increased.
Then for his kin, and favourite spies,
A hundred hardly