Rare music! I would rather hear cat-courtship Under my bed-room window in the night, Than this scraped catgut's screak. Rare dancing too! Alas, poor Bruin! How he foots the pole And waddles round it with unwieldy steps, Swaying from side to side! . . The dancing-master Hath had as profitless a pupil in him As when he would have tortured my poor toes To minuet grace, and made them move like clockwork In musical obedience. Bruin! Bruin! Thou art but a clumsy biped! . . And the mob With noisy merriment mock his heavy pace, And laugh to see him led by the nose! . . themselves Led by the nose, embruted, and in the eye Of Reason from their Nature's purposes As miserably perverted. Bruin-Bear! Now could I sonnetize thy piteous plight, And prove how much my sympathetic heart Even for the miseries of a beast can feel, In fourteen lines of sensibility. But we are told all things were made for Man; And I'll be sworn there's not a fellow here Who would not swear 'twere hanging blasphemy To doubt that truth. Therefore as thou wert born, Bruin! for Man, and Man makes nothing of thee In any other way, . . . most logically It follows, thou wert born to make him sport; That that great snout of thine was form'd on purpose To hold a ring; and that thy fat was given thee For an approved pomatum! To demur Were heresy. And politicians say, (Wise men who in the scale of reason give No foolish feelings weight,) that thou art here Far happier than thy brother Bears who roam O'er trackless snow for food; that being born Inferior to thy leader, unto him Rightly belongs dominion; that the compact Was made between ye, when thy clumsy feet First fell into the snare, and he gave up His right to kill, conditioning thy life Should thenceforth be his property; . . besides, 'Tis wholesome for thy morals to be brought From savage climes into a civilized state, Into the decencies of Christendom. . . . Bear! Bear! it passes in the Parliament For excellent logic this! What if we say How barbarously Man abuses power? Talk of thy baiting, it will be replied, Thy welfare is thy owner's interest, But were thou baited it would injure thee, Therefore thou are not baited. For seven years Hear it, O Heaven, and give ear, O Earth! For seven long years, this precious syllogism Hath baffled justice and humanity! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 13 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THREE BLIND MICE by MOTHER GOOSE THE LAST GOODBYE by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON LOUIS XV by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) INDIFFERENCE by GEOFFREY ANKETELL STUDDERT-KENNEDY THE THREE TROOPERS DURING THE PROTECTORATE by GEORGE WALTER THORNBURY |