bare heath a harvest yields.
Nature expects mankind should share
The duties of the public care.
Who's born for sloth?[9] To some we find
The ploughshare's annual toil assign'd.
Some at the sounding anvil glow;
Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw;
Some, studious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole our commerce guide:
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Some (taught by industry) impart
With hands and feet the works of art;
While some, of genius more refined,
With head and tongue assist mankind:
Each, aiming at one common end,
Proves to the whole a needful friend.
Thus, born each other's useful aid,
By turns are obligations paid.
The monarch, when his table's spread,
Is to the clown obliged for bread;
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And when in all his glory dress'd,
Owes to the loom his royal vest.
Do not the mason's toil and care
Protect him from the inclement air?
Does not the cutler's art supply
The ornament that guards his thigh?
All these, in duty to the throne,
Their common obligations own.
'Tis he (his own and people's cause)
Protects their properties and laws.
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Thus they their honest toil employ,
And with content their fruits enjoy.
In every rank, or great or small,
'Tis industry supports us all.
The animals by want oppressed,
To man their services addressed;
While each pursued their selfish good,
They hungered for precarious food.
Their hours with anxious cares were vex'd;
One day they fed, and starved the next.
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They saw that plenty, sure and rife,
Was found alone in social life;
That mutual industry professed,
The various wants of man redressed.
The cat, half-famished, lean and weak,
Demands the privilege to speak.
'Well, puss,' says man, 'and what can you
To benefit the public do?'
The cat replies: 'These teeth, these claws,
With vigilance shall serve the cause.
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The mouse destroyed by my pursuit,
No longer shall your feasts pollute;
Nor rats, from nightly ambuscade,
With wasteful teeth your stores invade.'
'I grant,' says man, 'to general use
Your parts and talents may conduce;
For rats and mice purloin our grain,
And threshers whirl the flail in vain:
Thus shall the cat, a foe to spoil,
Protect the farmer's honest toil,'
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Then, turning to the dog, he cried,
'Well, sir; be next your merits tried.'
'Sir,' says the dog, 'by self-applause
We seem to own a friendless cause.
A