THE MERCHANT; A FABLE by JOHN GODFREY SAXE

A MERCHANT once, whom Fortune plied
With favors rare on every side,
Grew rich apace; his ships were safe
Though storms might rave and breakers chafe;
To every clime his bending sails
Were wafted by propitious gales;
While others, good and brave as he,
And no less wise on land or sea,
With varying fortunes often tried
The fierce domain of wind and tide,
And paid, sometimes, a goodly freight
In tribute to the Ocean-Fate.
No hidden reef, nor sudden squall,
Nor deadly calm, most feared of all,
Had e'er consigned his vessels' store
To coral grove or rocky shore.
And more than this (so, it is known,
Fate, when she will, can guard her own),
No agent proved an arrant knave,
No master found a watery grave,
No trusted clerk defaulter turned,
No partner stole what both had earned,
Nor market of a sudden fell
Just when his factor wished to sell.

In short, his wines, tobaccos, teas,
Silks, satins, linens, laces, cheese,
His coffee, sugar, raisins, spice,
Were sure to bring the highest price;
And so it was he came to be
The richest merchant on the sea,
And lived -- there's little need to say --
In such a princely sort of way
The King himself could scarce afford
The gems that decked our merchant-lord.

A friendly neighbor, much amazed
At all the wealth on which he gazed,
Said, "Tell me, now, how may it be
That you have come to what we see?"
The merchant, smilling, swelled with pride,
And, like a monarch, thus replied:
"How comes it? -- plain enough, I trow;
It comes, my friend, of knowing how!"

With growing riches now, indeed,
The trader felt a growing greed,
And giddy with prosperity,
Stakes all he has again at sea.
But now success no longer paid
The heedless risks the merchant made.
One bark was wrecked because her load,
For want of care, was ill bestowed;
Another (lacking arms, they say)
To ruthless pirates fell a prey;
A third came safe, at last, to land
With goods no longer in demand;
In brief, his ventures proved so bad
He soon was stript of all he had,
And now among his fellow-men,
Was but a common man again.

Once more his friend inquiry made
Whence came disaster to his trade.
"What brought you to this dismal pass?"
" 'T was Fortune," said the man, "alas!"
"Indeed? Well, well," the friend replies,
"Although her gold the Dame denies,
She yet may teach you to be wise!"

So goes the world! each thankless elf,
Whate'er may be his worldly state,
Imputes his blessings to himself,
And lays his blunders all to Fate.

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!

Other Poems of Interest...