FABLE [24] XXIV. The Butterfly and the Snail. 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. 81-83. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

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FABLE [ 24 ] XXIV . The Butterfly and the Snail . All upstarts , insolent in place , Remind us of their vulgar race . As , in the sun-shine of the morn , A Butterfly ( but newly born ) Sate proudly perking on a rose ; With pert conceit his bosom glows , His wings ( all glorious to behold ) Bedropt with azure , jet and gold , Wide he displays ; the spangled dew Reflects his eyes and various hue . His now forgotten friend , a Snail , Beneath his house , with slimy trail Crawles o'er the grass ; whom when he spys , In wrath he to the gard'ner crys : What means yon peasant's daily toil , From choaking weeds to rid the soil ? Why wake you to the morning's care ? Why with new arts correct the year ? Why glows the peach with crimson hue ? And why the plum's inviting blue ? Were they to feast his taste design'd , That vermine of voracious kind ? Crush then the slow , the pilfring race , So purge thy garden from disgrace . What arrogance ! the Snail reply'd ; How insolent is upstart pride ! Hadst thou not thus , with insult vain , Provok'd my patience to complain ; I had conceal'd thy meaner birth , Nor trac'd thee to the scum of earth . For scarce nine suns have wak'd the hours , To swell the fruit and paint the flowers , Since I thy humbler life survey'd , In base , in sordid guise array'd ; A hideous insect , vile , unclean , You dragg'd a slow and noisome train , And from your spider bowels drew Foul film , and spun the dirty clue . I own my humble life , good friend ; Snail was I born , and snail shall end . And what's a butterfly ? At best , He's but a caterpillar , drest : And all thy race ( a num'rous seed ) Shall prove of caterpillar breed .