Not all thy life-time one poor minute live,
And thy ore-labour'd bulk with mirth relieve?
V.
Look up then, miserable ant, and spie
Thy fatal foes, for breaking of their<67.4> law,
Hov'ring above thee: Madam MARGARET PIE:
And her fierce servant, meagre Sir JOHN DAW:
Thy self and storehouse now they do store up,
And thy whole harvest too within their crop.
VI.
Thus we unt[h]rifty thrive within earth's tomb
For some more rav'nous and ambitious jaw:
The grain in th' ant's, the ant<67.5> in the pie's womb,
The pie in th' hawk's, the hawk<67.6> ith' eagle's maw.
So scattering to hord 'gainst a long day,
Thinking to save all, we cast all away.
<67.1> A writer in CENSURA LITERARIA, x. 292 (first edit.)--the
late E. V. Utterson, Esq.--highly praises this little poem, and
says that it is not unworthy of Cowper. I think it highly
probable that the translation from Martial (lib. vi. Ep. 15),
at the end of the present volume, was executed prior to the
composition of these lines; and that the latter were suggested
by the former. Compare the beautiful description of the ant in
the PROVERBS OF SOLOMON:--"Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider
her ways and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler,
provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the
harvest.
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