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The starving meal, and all the thousand aches
"Which patient Merit of th' Unworthy takes?"
Or is thy sad heart thrill'd with filial pain
To see thy wretched Mother's shorten'd Chain?
And truly, very piteous is her Lot
Chain'd to a Log within a narrow spot
Where the close-eaten Grass is scarcely seen,
While sweet around her waves the tempting Green!
Poor Ass! her Master should have learnt to shew
Pity—best taught by fellowship of woe!
For much I fear, that He lives, ev'n as she,
Half-famish'd in a land of luxury!
How askingly It's footsteps t'ward me bend?
It seems to say, "And have I then one Friend?"
Innocent Foal! thou poor despis'd Forlorn!
I hail thee Brother—spite of the fool's scorn!
