Fable: The Lyon and the Ass a Hunting

THE Lyon would a Hunting go,
His Game Wild Bore, Stag, Buck and Doe.
For his Assistant he made choice
Of th' Ass, who had a Stentor's voice.
Oft silliest Creatures make most noise.
Hid under boughs, he made him lye,
And then commanded him to cry.
The Ass thus bid, began to Thunder,
And struck the Beasts with fear and Wonder.
The Tempest of his Voice to shun,
Upon the Lyon's Toils they run.
After that Prey enough was taken,
Says the Ass, his Ambuscade forsaking,
What feats have I perform'd to day?
Have not I here done Wonders pray?
I marry didst thou bravely bray.
Had I not known thy Self and Kindred,
Ev'n I my self should have been in dread.
This to the Ass was no way pleasing;
Altho' he rallied was with Reason.
For what a Dev'l! an Ass turn Bully
That is not fair, tho, frequent truly.

Moral.

NEre boast thy self, of thy own Merit,
For those who hear thee cannot bear it;
Besides, it shows a little spirit.

To Praise to which you may aspire,
If you deserve it, you are nigher,
The less you show your fond desire.

But if a Man deserves it not,
The Fame that is by vanity got,
Is that of a vain-glorious Sot.

Then we your known defects of mind,
Which t' excuse before we inclin'd,
Expose and new ones strive to find.

Thus whilst with vanity you take aim,
Recoiling, it to flight puts fame,
You hurt your self, and miss your Game.