FAVOURITE FABLES. 27

His neighbours never share a drop;
So much the better for their crop ;
Each glebe a plenteous harvest yields ;
Whilst our director spoils his fields.

Next year, he tries a different way ;
New moulds the seasons, and directs again ;
But all in vain:
His neighbour’s grounds still thrive while his decay.

What does he do in this sad plight ?

For once he acted right:

He to the god his fate bemoaned,

Asked pardon, and his folly owned.

Jove, like a tender master, fond to save,
His weakness pityed, and his fault forgave.

MORAL.

He, who presumes the ways of heaven to scan,
Is not a wise, nor yet a happy man:

In this firm truth securely we may rest,—
Whatever Providence ordains is best ;

Had man the power, he’d work his own undoing ;
To grant his will would be to cause his ruin.