The Coach And The Fly.

[1]      Upon a sandy, uphill road,      Which naked in the sunshine glow'd,      Six lusty horses drew a coach.      Dames, monks, and invalids, its load,      On foot, outside, at leisure trode.      The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd:      Whereon there did a fly approach,      And, with a vastly business air.      Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz, -      Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there,      As neatly as a jockey does, -      And thought the while - he knew 'twas so -      He made the team and carriage go, -      On carriage-pole sometimes alighting -      Or driver's nose - and biting.      And when the whole did get in motion,      Confirm'd and settled in the notion,      He took, himself, the total glory, -      Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry,      And, as he buzz'd about the cattle,      Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle,      The files and squadrons leading on      To where the victory is won.      Thus charged with all the commonweal,      This single fly began to feel      Responsibility too great,      And cares, a grievous crushing weight;      And made complaint that none would aid      The horses up the tedious hill -      The monk his prayers at leisure said -      Fine time to pray! - the dames, at will,      Were singing songs - not greatly needed!      Thus in their ears he sharply sang,      And notes of indignation ran, -      Notes, after all, not greatly heeded.      Erelong the coach was on the top:      'Now,' said the fly, 'my hearties, stop      And breathe; - I've got you up the hill;      And Messrs. Horses, let me say,      I need not ask you if you will      A proper compensation pay.'      Thus certain ever-bustling noddies      Are seen in every great affair;      Important, swelling, busy-bodies,      And bores 'tis easier to bear      Than chase them from their needless care.