Classic Poem

The ranging Dog the stubble tries,
And searches every breeze that flies;
The scent grows warm: with cautious fear
He creeps, and points the covey near;
The men in silence, far behind,
Conscious of game, the net unbind.
A Partridge, with experience wise,
The fraudful preparation spies:
But ere her certain wing she tries
Thus to the creeping Spaniel cries:—
‘Thou fawning slave to man's deceit,
Thou pimp of luxury, sneaking cheat,
Of thy whole species thou disgrace,
Dogs should disown thee of their race!
For if I judge their native parts,
They're born with honest, open hearts;
And ere they served man's wicked ends
Were generous foes, or real friends.’
When thus the Dog with scornful smile:—
‘Secure of wing thou dar'st revile. . . .
Thus trained by man, I learned his ways;
And growing favour feasts my days.’
‘I might have guessed,’ the Partridge said,
‘The place where you were trained and fed;
Servants are apt, and in a trice
Ape to a hair their master's vice.’