The Flies

Say, sire of insects, mighty Sol,
(A fly upon the chariot-pole
Cries out) What blue-bottle alive
Did ever with such fury drive?
Tell Beelzebub, great Father, tell,
(Says th' other perch'd upon the wheel)
Did ever any mortal fly
Raise such a cloud of dust as I?
My judgement turn'd the whole debate;
My valour sayed the sinking state.
To talk two idle buzzing things,
Toss up their heads, and stretch their wings.
But let the truth to light be brought,
This neither spoke nor th' other fought;
No merit in their own behaviour;
Both raised but by their party's favour.

Matthew Prior

Matthew Prior was an English poet and diplomat. He is known for his extensive contributions to poetry during the late 17th and early 18th centuries. Prior's works often blend sharp wit, classical allusions, and a mastery of form. Apart from poetry, he was actively involved in politics and served as a diplomat for the English government. His poetry reflects his broad knowledge and varied experiences.

Matthew Prior

To Dr. Sherlock, On His Practical Discourse Concerning Death

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

Democritus And Heraclitus

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

An Ode. The Merchant, To Secure

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

Cupid In Ambush

Matthew Prior, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Fly And The Ant.

^[1]

A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank,
Discuss'd the question of their rank.
'O Jupiter!' the former said,
'Can love of self so turn the head,
That one so mean and crawling,
And of so low a calling,
To boast equality shall dare
With me, the daughter of the air?
In palaces I am a guest,
And even at thy glorious feast.
Whene'er the people that adore thee
May immolate for thee a bullock,
I'm sure to taste the meat before thee.
Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock,
Is living on some bit of straw
Which she has labour'd home to draw.
But tell me now, my little thing,
Do you camp ever on a king,
An emperor, or lady?
I do, and have full many a play-day
On fairest bosom of the fair,
And sport myself upon her hair.

Jean de La Fontaine

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,

Jean de La Fontaine

The Fox, The Flies, And The Hedgehog.

^[1]

A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly, -
By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud, -
Attracted, by the traces of his blood,
That buzzing parasite, the fly.
He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why
The Fates so cruelly should wish
To feast the fly on such a costly dish.
'What! light on me! make me its food!
Me, me, the nimblest of the wood!
How long has fox-meat been so good?
What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight?
Go, - Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate! -
And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!'
A hedgehog, witnessing his pains,
(This fretful personage
Here graces first my page,)
Desired to set him free
From such cupidity.
'My neighbour fox,' said he,
My quills these rascals shall empale,
And ease thy to...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Lion And The Gnat.

^[1]

'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!'
Thus said the royal lion to the gnat.
The gnat declared immediate war.
'Think you,' said he, 'your royal name
To me worth caring for?
Think you I tremble at your power or fame?
The ox is bigger far than you;
Yet him I drive, and all his crew.'
This said, as one that did no fear owe,
Himself he blew the battle charge,
Himself both trumpeter and hero.
At first he play'd about at large,
Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled,
And there the royal beast full sorely nettled.
With foaming mouth, and flashing eye,
He roars. All creatures hide or fly, -
Such mortal terror at
The work of one poor gnat!
With constant change of his attack,
The snout now stinging, now the back,
...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Bees And The Flies

"The Mother Hive", Actions and Reactions
A Farmer of the Augustan Age
Perused in Virgil's golden page
The story of the secret won
From Proteus by Cyrene's son,
How the dank sea-god showed the swain
Means to restore his hives again.
More briefly, how a slaughtered bull
Breeds honey by the bellyful.

The egregious rustic put to death
A bull by stopping of its breath,
Disposed the carcass in a shed
With fragrant herbs and branches spread,
And, having well performed the charm,
Sat down to wait the promised swarm.

Nor waited long. The God of Day
Impartial, quickening with his ray
Evil and good alike, beheld
The carcass, and the carcass swelled.
Big with new birth the belly heaves
Beneath its screen of scented leaves.
Past any dou...

Rudyard

The Yellow Fly.

A TALE WITH A STING IN IT.

Ah!
There you are!
I was certain I heard a strange voice from afar.
Mamma calls me a pup, but I'm wiser than she;
One ear cocked and I hear, half an eye and I see;
Wide-awake though I doze, not a thing escapes me.

Yes!
Let me guess:
It's the stable-boy's hiss as he wisps down Black Bess.
It sounds like a kettle beginning to sing,
Or a bee on a pane, or a moth on the wing,
Or my master's peg-top, just let loose from the string.

Well!
Now I smell,
I don't know who you are, and I'm puzzled to tell.
You look like a fly dressed in very gay clothes,
But I blush to have troubled my mid-day repose
For a creature not worth half a twitch of my nose.

How now?
Bow, wow, wow!
The insect imagines we...

Juliana Horatia Ewing