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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415296" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Hares, A Fable.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, yes, I grant the sons of earth<br>Are doom'd to trouble from their birth.<br>We all of sorrow have our share;<br>But say, is yours without compare?<br>Look round the world; perhaps you'll find<br>Each individual of our kind<br>Press'd with an equal load of ill, <br>Equal at least. Look further still,<br>And own your lamentable case<br>Is little short of happiness.<br>In yonder hut that stands alone<br>Attend to Famine's feeble moan;<br>Or view the couch where Sickness lies,<br>Mark his pale cheek, and languid eyes,<br>His frame by strong convulsion torn,<br>His struggling sighs, and looks forlorn.<br>Or see, transfix'd with keener pangs,<br>Where o'er his hoard the miser hangs;<br>Whistles the wind; he starts, he stares,<br>Nor Slumber's balmy blessing shares,<br>Despair, Remorse, and Terror roll<br>Their tempests on his harass'd soul.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But here perhaps it may avail<br>T'enforce our reasoning with a tale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mild was the morn, the sky serene,<br>The jolly hunting band convene,<br>The beagle's breast with ardour burns,<br>The bounding steed the champaign spurns,<br>And Fancy oft the game descries<br>Through the hound's nose, and huntsman's eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just then, a council of the hares<br>Had met, on national affairs.<br>The chiefs were set; while o'er their head<br>The furze its frizzled covering spread.<br>Long lists of grievances were heard,<br>And general discontent appear'd, <br>'Our harmless race shall every savage<br>Both quadruped and biped ravage?<br>Shall horses hounds and hunters still<br>Unite their wits to work us ill?<br>The youth, his parent's sole delight,<br>Whose tooth the dewy lawns invite,<br>Whose pulse in every vein beats strong,<br>Whose limbs leap light the vales along,<br>May yet ere noontide meet his death,<br>And lie dismember'd on the heath.<br>For youth, alas, nor cautious age,<br>Nor strength, nor speed, eludes their rage.<br>In every field we meet the foe,<br>Each gale comes fraught with sounds of wo;<br>The morning but awakes our fears,<br>The evening sees us bathed in tears.<br>But must we ever idly grieve,<br>Nor strive our fortunes to relieve?<br>Small is each individual's force:<br>To stratagem be our recourse;<br>And then, from all our tribes combined,<br>The murderer to his cost may find<br>No foes are weak, whom Justice arms,<br>Whom Concord leads, and Hatred warms.<br>Be roused; or liberty acquire,<br>Or in the great attempt expire.'<br>He said no more, for in his breast<br>Conflicting thoughts the voice suppress'd:<br>The fire of vengeance seem'd to stream<br>From his swoln eyeball's yellow gleam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now the tumults of the war,<br>Mingling confusedly from afar,<br>Swell in the wind. Now louder cries<br>Distinct of hounds and men arise.<br>Forth from the brake, with beating heart<br>Th' assembled hares tumultuous start,<br>And, every straining nerve on wing,<br>Away precipitately spring.<br>The hunting band, a signal given,<br>Thick thundering o'er the plain are driven;<br>O'er cliff abrupt, and shrubby mound,<br>And river broad, impetuous bound;<br>Now plunge amid the forest shades,<br>Glance through the openings of the glades;<br>Now o'er the level valley sweep,<br>Now with short steps strain up the steep;<br>While backward from the hunter's eyes<br>The landscape like a torrent flies.<br>At last an ancient wood they gain'd,<br>By pruner's axe yet unprofaned,<br>High o'er the rest, by Nature rear'd,<br>The oak's majestic boughs appear'd;<br>Beneath, a copse of various hue<br>In barbarous luxuriance grew.<br>No knife had curb'd the rambling sprays,<br>No hand had wove th' implicit maze.<br>The flowering thorn, self-taught to wind,<br>The hazle's stubborn stem entwined,<br>And bramble twigs were wreathed around,<br>And rough furze crept along the ground.<br>Here sheltering, from the sons of murther,<br>The hares drag their tired limbs no further.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But lo, the western wind erelong<br>Was loud, and roar'd the woods among;<br>From rustling leaves, and crashing boughs,<br>The sound of wo and war arose.<br>The hares distracted scour the grove,<br>As terror and amazement drove;<br>But danger, wheresoe'er they fled,<br>Still seem'd impending o'er their head.<br>Now crowded in a grotto's gloom,<br>All hope extinct, they wait their doom.<br>Dire was the silence, till, at length,<br>Even from despair deriving strength,<br>With bloody eye, and furious look,<br>A daring youth arose, and spoke. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'O wretched race, the scorn of Fate,<br>Whom ills of every sort await!<br>O, cursed with keenest sense to feel<br>The sharpest sting of every ill!<br>Say ye, who, fraught with mighty scheme,<br>Of liberty and vengeance dream,<br>What now remains? To what recess<br>Shall we our weary steps address,<br>Since fate is evermore pursuing<br>All ways, and means to work our ruin?<br>Are we alone, of all beneath,<br>Condemn'd to misery worse than death!<br>Must we, with fruitless labour, strive<br>In misery worse than death to live!<br>No. Be the smaller ill our choice:<br>So dictates Nature's powerful voice.<br>Death's pang will in a moment cease;<br>And then, All hail, eternal peace!'<br>Thus while he spoke, his words impart<br>The dire resolve to every heart.<br>A distant lake in prospect lay,<br>That glittering in the solar ray,<br>Gleam'd through the dusky trees, and shot<br>A trembling light along the grott.<br>Thither with one consent they bend,<br>Their sorrows with their lives to end,<br>While each, in thought, already hears<br>The water hissing in his ears.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fast by the margin of the lake,<br>Conceal'd within a thorny brake,<br>A Linnet sat, whose careless lay <br>Amused the solitary day,<br>Careless he sung, for on his breast<br>Sorrow no lasting trace impress'd;<br>When suddenly he heard a sound<br>Of swift feet traversing the ground.<br>Quick to the neighbouring tree he flies,<br>Thence trembling cast around his eyes;<br>No foe appear'd, his fears were vain;<br>Pleased he renews the sprightly strain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hares, whose noise had caused his fright,<br>Saw with surprise the linnet's flight.<br>Is there on earth a wretch, they said,<br>Whom our approach can strike with dread?<br>An instantaneous change of thought<br>To tumult every bosom wrought.<br>So fares the system-building sage,<br>Who, plodding on from youth to age,<br>At last on some foundation-dream<br>Has rear'd aloft his goodly scheme,<br>And proved his predecessors fools,<br>And bound all nature by his rules;<br>So fares he in that dreadful hour,<br>When injured Truth exerts her power<br>Some new phenomenon to raise;<br>Which, bursting on his frighted gaze,<br>From its proud summit to the ground<br>Proves the whole edifice unsound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Children,' thus spoke a hare sedate,<br>Who oft had known th' extremes of fate,<br>'In slight events docile mind<br>May hints of good instruction find.<br>That our condition is the worst,<br>And we with such misfortunes cursed<br>As all comparison defy,<br>Was late the universal cry.<br>When lo, an accident so slight<br>As yonder little linnet's flight,<br>Has made your stubborn heart confess<br>(So your amazement bids me guess)<br>That all our load of woes and fears<br>Is but a part of what he bears.<br>Where can he rest secure from harms,<br>Whom even a helpless hare alarms?<br>Yet he repines not at his lot,<br>When pass'd the danger is forgot;<br>On yonder bough he trims his wings,<br>And with unusual rapture stings;<br>While we, less wretched, sink beneath<br>Our lighter ills, and rush to death.<br>No more of this unmeaning rage,<br>But hear, my friends, the words of age.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'When by the winds of autumn driven<br>The scatter'd clouds fly cross the heaven,<br>Oft have we, from some mountain's head,<br>Beheld th' alternate light and shade<br>Sweep the long vale. Here hovering lours<br>The shadowy cloud; there downward pours,<br>Streaming direct, a flood of day,<br>Which from the view flies swift away;<br>It flies, while other shades advance,<br>And other streaks of sunshine glance;<br>Thus checker'd is the life below<br>With gleams of joy, and clouds of wo,<br>Then hope not, while we journey on,<br>Still to be basking in the sun:<br>Nor fear, though now in shades ye mourn,<br>That sunshine will no more return.<br>If, by your terrors overcome,<br>Ye fly before th' approaching gloom,<br>The rapid clouds your flight pursue,<br>And darkness still o'ercasts your view.<br>Who longs to reach the radiant plain<br>Must onward urge his course amain;<br>For doubly swift the shadow flies,<br>When 'gainst the gale the pilgrim plies;<br>At least be firm, and undismay'd<br>Maintain your ground! the fleeting shade<br>Ere long spontaneous glides away,<br>And gives you back th' enlivening ray.<br>Lo, while I speak, our danger past!<br>No more the shrill horn's angry blast<br>Howls in our ear; the savage roar <br>Of war and murder is no more. <br>Then snatch the moment fate allows,<br>Nor think of past of future woes.'<br>He spoke; and hope revives; the lake<br>That instant one and all forsake,<br>In sweet amusement to employ<br>The present sprightly hour of joy. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now from the western mountains brow<br>Compass'd with clouds of various glow,<br>The sun a broader orb displays,<br>And shoots aslope his ruddy rays.<br>The lawn assumes a fresher green,<br>And dew-drops spangle all the scene,<br>The balmy zephyr breathes along,<br>The shepherd sings his tender song,<br>With all their lays the groves resound,<br>And falling waters murmur round.<br>Discord and care were put to flight,<br>And all was peace, and calm delight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Beattie">James Beattie</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=415296" data-title="The Hares, A Fable. de James Beattie" data-description="Yes, yes, I grant the sons of earth
Are doom'd to trouble from their birth.
We all of sorrow have our share;
But say, is yours without compare?
Look round the world; perhaps you'll find
Each individual of our kind
Press'd with an equal load of ill..."></div>
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