Only because I'd upright be,
I've got the whole world's enmity!
Every man, and child, and beast—
Yes ev'ry little bird,
By hate and envy stirr'd,
Do make of me their scand'lous feast.
Oh base ingratitude!
To treat one thus who is so good.
How little I am understood!
They'll yet regret what they have done;
But only when I'm dead and gone."
Thus in hypochondriac strain,
A grasshopper did once complain.
O'er the world's wrongs he seem'd to groan,
While thinking of himself alone.
A comrade said,—"Holla, my dear!
How did you come by that idea?
Why not enjoy these fields in peace?
They yield for you their rich increase.
Let the world go,
And all is woe.
What is't to you, I'd like to know?
'Tis bad and always will be so.
You cannot shape it to your view
By all that you may say or do.
Besides, my friend, where can you find
A world more suited to your mind?
And as to having this world's spite,
I think you are mistaken quite.
It is a fancy, or perchance