THOSE rigid pedagogues and fools,
Who walk by self-invented rules,
Do often try, with empty head,
The emptier mortals to mislead,
And fain would urge, that none but they
Could rightly teach the A, B, C,
On which they 've got an endless comment,
To trifling minds of mighty moment,
Throwing forth barriers in the way
Of those who genius display,
As often, ah! too often teaze
Them out of patience, and of fees,
Before they 're able to explode
Obstructions thrown on Learning's road.
May mankind all employ their tools
To banish pedantry from schools!
And may each pedagogue avail,
By list'ning to the after tale!
Wise Mr. BIRCH had long intended
The alphabet should be amended,
And taught that H a breathing was,
Ergo he saw no proper cause,
Why such a letter should exist:
Thus in a breath was he dismiss'd,
With, "O beware, beware, O youth!
"Take not the villain in your mouth."
One day this alphabetic sinner
Was eager to devour his dinner,
When to appease the craving glutton,
His boy Tom produc'd the mutton,
Was such disaster ever told?
Alas! the meat was deadly cold!
Here take and h-eat it says the master;
Quoth Tom, that shall be done, and fast, Sir:
And few there are who will dispute it;
And he went instantly about it;
For Birch had scorn'd the H to say,
And blew him with a puff away.
The bell was rung with dread alarm;
"Bring me the mutton, is it warm ?”
Sir you desir'd, and I have eat it ;
"You lie, my orders were to heat it."
Quoth Tom, I'll readily allow
That H is but a breathing now.
PEASANT, THE HEN, & YOUNG DUCKS.
A HEN, of all the dung-hill crew
The fairest, stateliest to view,
Of laying tir'd, she fondly begs
Her Keeper's leave to hatch her eggs:
He, dunn'd with the incessant cry,
Was forc'd for peace's sake to comply;
And in a month the downy brood
Came chirping round the hen for food,
Who view'd them with parental eyes
Of pleasing fondness and surprise,
And was not at a loss to trace
Her likeness growing in their face;
Tho' the broad bills could well declare
That they another's offspring were;
So strong will prejudices blind,
And lead astray the easy mind.
To the green margin of the brook
The hen her fancied children took;
Each young one shakes his unfledg'd wings,
And to the flood by instinct springs ;
With willing strokes they gladly swim,
Or dive into the glassy stream,
While the fond mother vents her grief,
And prays the peasant's kind relief.
The peasant heard the bitter cries,
And thus in terms of rage replies:
"You fool! give o'er your useless moan,
"Nor mourn misfortunes not your own;
"But learn in wisdom to forsake
"The offspring of the duck and drake."
To whom the hen, with angry crest
And scornful look, herself addrest:
"If reason were my constant guide
(Of man the ornament and pride,)
"Then should I boast a cruel heart,
"And foreign feeling all depart;
"But since poor I, by instinct blind,
"Can boast no feelings so refin❜d,
""Tis hop'd your reason will excuse,
"Tho' I your counsel sage refuse,
"And from the perils of the flood
"Attempt to save another's brood."
When Pity, gen'rous nymph! possest
And mov'd at will the human breast,
No tongue its distant sufferings told,
But she assisted, she condol'd,
And willing bore her tender part
In all the feelings of the heart;
But now from her our hearts decoy'd,
To sense of other woes destroy'd,
Act only from a selfish view,
Nor give the aid to Pity due.
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