THE AMBITIOUS MITE. A FABLE. ___ WHEN hope persuades, and
fame inspires us, And
pride with warm ambition fires us, Let
Reason instant sieze the bridle, And
wrest us frae the Passions’ guidal; Else,
like the Hero of our fable, We’ll
aft be plung’d into a habble. ’Twas on a bonny simmer day, When
a’ the insect tribes war’ gay, Some
journeying o'er the leaves o’ roses, Some
brushing thrang their wings an’ noses, Some
wallowing sweet in bramble blossom, In
luxury’s saft downy bosom; While
ithers of a lower order, Were
perch’d on plantain leaf’s smooth border, Wha
frae their twa-inch steeps look’d down, An’
view’d the kintra far aroun’. Ae pridefu’ elf amang the rest, Wha’s
pin-point heart bumpt ’gainst his breast, To
work some mighty deed of fame, That
wou’d immortalize his name; Thro’
future hours wou’d hand him down, The
wonder of an afternoon; (For ae short day wi’
them appears, As
lang’s our lengthen’d hunder years.) By chance, at hand, a bow’d horse-hair Stood
up six inches high in air; He
plan’d to climb this lofty arch, Wi’
philosophic deep research, To
prove (which aft perplex’d their heads) What
people peopl’d ither blades, Or
from keen observation, show, Whether
they peopl’d were or no. Our tiny hero
onward hies, Quite
big with daring enterprize, Ascends
the hair’s curvatur’d side, Now
pale with fear, now red with pride, Now
hangin’ pend’lous by the claw, Now
glad at having ’scaped a fa’: What
horrid dangers he came thro’, Wou’d
trifling seem for man to know; Suffice, at length he reach’d the top, The
summit of his pride and hope, And
on his elevated station, Had
plac’d himsel’ for observation, When
puff—the wind did end the matter, And
dash’d him in a horse-hoof gutter. Sae let the lesson gi’en us here, Keep
each within his proper sphere, And
when our fancies tak’ their flight, Think
on the wee ambitious mite. |