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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426413" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fable Of Midas</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Midas, we are in story told,<br>Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold:<br>He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round<br>Glitter'd like spangles on the ground:<br>A codling, ere it went his lip in,<br>Would straight become a golden pippin.<br>He call'd for drink; you saw him sup<br>Potable gold in golden cup:<br>His empty paunch that he might fill,<br>He suck'd his victuals thro' a quill.<br>Untouch'd it pass'd between his grinders,<br>Or't had been happy for gold-finders:<br>He cock'd his hat, you would have said<br>Mambrino's helm adorn'd his head;<br>Whene'er he chanced his hands to lay<br>On magazines of corn or hay,<br>Gold ready coin'd appear'd instead<br>Of paltry provender and bread;<br>Hence, we are by wise farmers told<br>Old hay is equal to old gold:<br>And hence a critic deep maintains<br>We learn'd to weigh our gold by grains.<br>This fool had got a lucky hit;<br>And people fancied he had wit,<br>Two gods their skill in music tried<br>And both chose Midas to decide:<br>He against Ph[oelig]bus' harp decreed,<br>And gave it for Pan's oaten reed:<br>The god of wit, to show his grudge,<br>Clapt asses' ears upon the judge,<br>A goodly pair, erect and wide,<br>Which he could neither gild nor hide.<br>And now the virtue of his hands<br>Was lost among Pactolus' sands,<br>Against whose torrent while he swims<br>The golden scurf peels off his limbs:<br>Fame spreads the news, and people travel<br>From far, to gather golden gravel;<br>Midas, exposed to all their jeers,<br>Had lost his art, and kept his ears.<br>This tale inclines the gentle reader<br>To think upon a certain leader;<br>To whom, from Midas down, descends<br>That virtue in the fingers' ends.<br>What else by perquisites are meant,<br>By pensions, bribes, and three per cent.?<br>By places and commissions sold,<br>And turning dung itself to gold?<br>By starving in the midst of store,<br>As t'other Midas did before?<br>None e'er did modern Midas chuse<br>Subject or patron of his muse,<br>But found him thus their merit scan,<br>That Phoebus must give place to Pan:<br>He values not the poet's praise,<br>Nor will exchange his plums for bays.<br>To Pan alone rich misers call;<br>And there's the jest, for Pan is ALL.<br>Here English wits will be to seek,<br>Howe'er, 'tis all one in the Greek.<br>Besides, it plainly now appears<br>Our Midas, too, has ass's ears:<br>Where every fool his mouth applies,<br>And whispers in a thousand lies;<br>Such gross delusions could not pass<br>Thro' any ears but of an ass.<br>But gold defiles with frequent touch,<br>There's nothing fouls the hand so much;<br>And scholars give it for the cause<br>Of British Midas' dirty paws;<br>Which, while the senate strove to scour,<br>They wash'd away the chemic power.<br>While he his utmost strength applied,<br>To swim against this popular tide,<br>The golden spoils flew off apace,<br>Here fell a pension, there a place:<br>The torrent merciless imbibes<br>Commissions, perquisites, and bribes,<br>By their own weight sunk to the bottom;<br>Much good may't do 'em that have caught 'em!<br>And Midas now neglected stands,<br>With ass's ears, and dirty hands.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=426413" data-title="The Fable Of Midas de Jonathan Swift" data-description="Midas, we are in story told, Turn'd every thing he touch'd to gold: He chipp'd his bread; the pieces round Glitter'd like spangles on the ground: A codling, ere it went his lip in, Would straight become a golden pippin. He call'd for drink; you sa..."></div> </div> </div>
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