FABLE [19] XIX. The Lyon and the Cub. John Gay Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T13818 Gay, John, 1685-1732. FABLES. By Mr. GAY. London Printed for J. Tonson and J. Watts, MDCCXXVII. 1727 pp. 64-66. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
FABLE [ 19 ] XIX . The Lyon and the Cub . How fond are men of rule and place , Who court it from the mean and base ! These cannot bear an equal nigh , But from superior merit fly ; They love the cellar's vulgar joke , And lose their hours in ale and smoak ; There o'er some petty club preside , So poor , so paultry is their pride ! Nay , ev'n with fools whole nights will sit , In hopes to be supream in wit . If these can read , to these I write , To set their worth in truest light . A Lyon-cub , of sordid mind , Avoided all the lyon kind ; Fond of applause , he sought the feasts Of vulgar and ignoble beasts , With asses all his time he spent , Their club's perpetual president . He caught their manners , looks and airs : An ass in ev'ry thing , but ears ! If e'er his highness meant a joke , They grinn'd applause before he spoke ; But at each word what shouts of praise ! Good Gods ! how natural he brays ! Elate with flatt'ry and conceit , He seeks his royal sire's retreat ; Forward , and fond to show his parts , His highness brays , the Lyon starts . Puppy , that curst vociferation Betrays thy life and conversation ; Coxcombs , an ever-noisy race , Are trumpets of their own disgrace . Why so severe , the Cub replys ? Our senate always held me wise . How weak is pride , returns the Sire , All fools are vain , when fools admire ! But know , what stupid asses prize , Lyons and noble beasts despise .