FAB. III. Of the Sun and the North-wind.
BEtwixt the Sun and Wind, arose
A Quarrer, like to end in Blows,
If both of 'em had not rather chose
A fitting Mediator.
It seems that this Contention grew
From which was Strongest of Two.
And down their Wagers strait they threw
Thus to decide the matter.
By chance a Traveller came by,
And both with one united cry,
On him let us our Forces try
To finish the Dispute:
He that the first a Way could find
To make him leave his Cloak behind
Should win; it's dine, agreed, said Wind.
Said Sun, content, I'll do't.
When Boreas summon'd every Blast,
And at him all his fury cast,
But flinging round his Cloak, he pass'd
And forwarded his Journey:
Sol smiles, and gath'ring all his Rays,
Sure of the Conquest and the Bays,
I'll make you quit your Cloack, he says,
Or else, by God, I'll burn ye.
Straight Passenger began to swear,
Enrag'd and troubled with the Heat,
And in a most confounded Pett,
At last flung off the Garment