FABLE [43] XLIII. The Council of Horses. John Gay Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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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. 146-149. [14],173,[1]p.: ill.; 4°.

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FABLE [ 43 ] XLIII . The Council of Horses . Upon a time a neighing steed , Who graz'd among a num'rous breed , With mutiny had fir'd the train , And spread dissention through the plain . On matters that concern'd the State The council met in grand debate . A colt , whose eye-balls flam'd with ire , Elate with strength and youthful fire , In haste stept forth before the rest , And thus the list'ning throng addrest . Good Gods ! how abject is our race , Condemn'd to slav'ry and disgrace ! Shall we our servitude retain , Because our sires have born the chain ? Consider , friends , your strength and might ; 'Tis conquest to assert your right . How cumb'rous is the gilded coach ! The pride of man is our reproach . Were we design'd for daily toil , To drag the plough-share through the soil , To sweat in harness through the road , To groan beneath the carrier's load ? How feeble are the two-legg'd kind ! What force is in our nerves combin'd ! Shall then our nobler jaws submit To foam and champ the galling bit ? Shall haughty man my back bestride ? Shall the sharp spur provoke my side ? Forbid it Heav'ns ! Reject the rein , Your shame , your infamy disdain . Let him the lyon first controul , And still the tyger's famish'd growle : Let us , like them , our freedom claim , And make him tremble at our name . A general nod approv'd the cause , And all the circle neigh'd applause . When , lo , with grave and solemn pace A steed advanc'd before the race , With age and long experience wise , Around he cast his thoughtful eyes , And , to the murmurs of the train , Thus spoke the Nestor of the plain . When I had health and strength , like you , The toils of servitude I knew ; Now grateful man rewards my pains , And gives me all these wide domains ; At will I crop the year's encrease , My latter life is rest and peace . I grant to man we lend our pains , And aid him to correct the plains ; But doth not he divide the care , Through all the labours of the year ? How many thousand structures rise , To fence us from inclement skies ! For us he bears the sultry day , And stores up all our winter's hay ; He sows , he reaps the harvest's gain , We share the toil and share the grain . Since ev'ry creature was decreed To aid each other's mutual need , Appease your discontented mind , And act the part by Heav'n assign'd . The tumult ceas'd . The colt submitted , And , like his ancestors , was bitted .