Classic Poem

As down the torrent of an angry flood
An earthen pot and a brass kettle flowed,
The heavy caldron sinking, and distressed
By its own weight, and the fierce waves oppressed,
Slyly bespoke the lighter vessel's aid,
And to the earthen pitcher friendly said,
" Come, brother, why should we divided lose
The strength of union and ourselves expose
To the insults of this poor, paltry stream,
Which with united forces we can stem?
Though different, heretofore, have been our parts,
The common danger reconciles our hearts.
Here, lend me thy kind arm to break this flood. "
The pitcher this new friendship understood
And made this answer, " Though I wish for ease
And safety, this alliance does not please.
Such different natures never will agree;
Your constitution is too rough for me.
If by the waves I against you am tossed,
Or you to me, I equally am lost.
And fear more mischief from your hardened side,
Than from the shore, the billows, or the tide.
I calmer days and ebbing waves attend,
Rather than buoy you up and serve your end
To perish by the rigor of my friend, "

Moral

Learn hence, you Whigs, and act no more like fools,
Nor trust their friendship who would make you tools;
While empty praises and smooth flatteries serve,
Pay with feigned thanks what their feigned smiles deserve,
But let not this alliance further pass;
For know that you are clay, and they are brass.