A PIOUS Brahmin made a vow Upon a certain day To sacrifice a fatted sheep; And so, his vow to pay, One morning to the market-place The Brahmin took his way. It chanced three cunning neighbors, Three rogues of brazen brow, Had formed the wicked purpose (My tale will tell you how) To cheat the pious Brahmin, And profit by his vow. The leader of these cunning knaves Went forth upon the road, And bearing on his shoulders What seemed a heavy load, He met the pious Brahmin Not far from his abode. "What have you there?" the Brahmin said. "Indeed," the man replies, "I have the finest, fattest sheep, And of the largest size; A sheep well worthy to be slain In solemn sacrifice!" And then the rogue laid down his load, And from a bag drew forth A scurvy dog. "See there!" he cried, "The finest sheep on earth! And you shall have him, if you will, For less than he is worth." "Wretch!" cried the pious Brahmin, "To call a beast so mean A goodly sheep! 'T is but a dog Accursed and unclean; The foulest, leanest, lamest cur That ever yet was seen!" Just then the second rogue came up. "What luck!" he said, "to find So soon a sheep in flesh and fleece Exactly to my mind!" "A sheep?" exclaimed the Brahmin, "Then I am surely blind!" "You must be very blind indeed, Or fond of telling lies, To say the beast is not a sheep!" The cunning rogue replies; "Go get a leech to mend your tongue, Or else to mend your eyes!" Now while these men disputed thus, The other rogue drew near, And all agreed this honest man Should make the matter clear. "O stranger!" cried the Brahmin, "What creature have we here?" "A goodly sheep!" the stranger said. "Alas!" the Brahmin cried, "A moment since I would have sworn This honest fellow lied; But now I know it is a sheep, Since thus you all decide!" And so it was the cunning knaves Prevailed in their device; The pious Brahmin bought the dog, Nor higgled at the price. "'T will make," he said, "unto the gods A pleasing sacrifice!" But ill betide the fatal hour His filthy blood was shed; It brought no benison, alas! Upon the Brahmin's head; The gods were angry at the deed, And sent a curse instead! The meaning of this pleasant tale Is very plainly shown; The man is sure to fall, at last, Who does n't stand alone: Don't trust to other people's eyes, But learn to mind your own! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AQUATINT FRAMED IN GOLD by AMY LOWELL JUNE (1) by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TO A STEAM ROLLER by MARIANNE MOORE SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND by THOMAS MOORE TO A THESAURUS by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE ISLAND OF THE SCOTS by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN LILIES: 5. ETERNAL MURMURINGS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |