在年老的时候，在萨图恩的盛年，在秃顶夺去时间的头之前，当逃学的朱庇特，在婴儿的骄傲中，赤脚在奥林匹斯山的山坡上玩耍时，地球上的每一种东西都有能力喋喋不休，说着大自然的母语。每一根木头或石头都能叽叽喳喳地说话，比十个巴别塔的工人还坏。在街上，也许你会看到一个帖子和一棵树在争论，在他们的争论中，一只鹅坐在裁判的位置上。你遇到的每一条狗，虽然现在说不出话来，也会向你致意鞠躬;每一头猪都端着粥来，想知道家里的朋友们过得怎么样。每一个布洛克的贵族都能发表演说，风格和口才都和参议院的查塔姆一样丰富，而且能发音，能写出来。不仅仅是散文。在这些年轻的时代，每片田地都在韵律中结出果实;每根羽毛的吟游诗人都感受着激情，每一阵风都吹着灵感。每只牛蛙都在高声夸夸其谈，每只猴子都在叽叽喳喳;每一只狗都天生爱叫，能在讽刺方面胜过丘吉尔[2]; Each Crow in prophecy delighted, Each Owl, you saw, was second-sighted, Each Goose a skilful politician, Each Ass a gifted met'physician, Could preach in wrath 'gainst laughing rogues, Write Halfway-covenant Dialogues,[3] And wisely judge of all disputes In commonwealths of men or brutes. 'Twas then, in spring a youthful Sparrow Felt the keen force of Cupid's arrow: For Birds, as Æsop's tales avow, Made love then, just as men do now, And talk'd of deaths and flames and darts, And breaking necks and losing hearts; And chose from all th' aerial kind, Not then to tribes, like Jews, confined The story tells, a lovely Thrush Had smit him from a neigh'bring bush, Where oft the young coquette would play, And carol sweet her siren lay: She thrill'd each feather'd heart with love, And reign'd the Toast of all the grove. He felt the pain, but did not dare Disclose his passion to the fair; For much he fear'd her conscious pride Of race, to noble blood allied. Her grandsire's nest conspicuous stood, Mid loftiest branches of the wood, In airy height, that scorn'd to know Each flitting wing that waved below. So doubting, on a point so nice He deem'd it best to take advice. Hard by there dwelt an aged Owl, Of all his friends the gravest fowl; Who from the cares of business free, Lived, hermit, in a hollow tree; To solid learning bent his mind, In trope and syllogism he shined, 'Gainst reigning follies spent his railing; Too much a Stoic--'twas his failing. Hither for aid our Sparrow came, And told his errand and his name, With panting breath explain'd his case, Much trembling at the sage's face; And begg'd his Owlship would declare If love were worth a wise one's care. The grave Owl heard the weighty cause, And humm'd and hah'd at every pause; Then fix'd his looks in sapient plan, Stretch'd forth one foot, and thus began. "My son, my son, of love beware, And shun the cheat of beauty's snare; That snare more dreadful to be in, Than huntsman's net, or horse-hair gin. "By others' harms learn to be wise," As ancient proverbs well advise. Each villany, that nature breeds, From females and from love proceeds. 'Tis love disturbs with fell debate Of man and beast the peaceful state: Men fill the world with war's alarms, When female trumpets sound to arms; The commonwealth of dogs delight For beauties, as for bones, to fight. Love hath his tens of thousands slain, And heap'd with copious death the plain: Samson, with ass's jaw to aid, Ne'er peopled thus th'infernal shade. "Nor this the worst; for he that's dead, With love no more will vex his head. 'Tis in the rolls of fate above, That death's a certain cure for love; A noose can end the cruel smart; The lover's leap is from a cart. But oft a living death they bear, Scorn'd by the proud, capricious fair. The fair to sense pay no regard, And beauty is the fop's reward; They slight the generous hearts' esteem, And sigh for those, who fly from them. Just when your wishes would prevail, Some rival bird with gayer tail, Who sings his strain with sprightlier note, And chatters praise with livelier throat, Shall charm your flutt'ring fair one down, And leave your choice, to hang or drown. Ev'n I, my son, have felt the smart; A Pheasant won my youthful heart. For her I tuned the doleful lay,[4] For her I watch'd the night away; In vain I told my piteous case, And smooth'd my dignity of face; In vain I cull'd the studied phrase, And sought hard words in beauty's praise. Her, not my charms nor sense could move, For folly is