The Beetle by Tomás de Iriarte — Read

For a fable a subject I have, / Which would do very well, -- but for rhymes / To-day my muse is too grave;

As she always will be at odd times -- / And the topic for somebody stands, / Whose fancy more cheerily chimes.

For this writing of fables demands / That in verse our ideas should flow; / Which not always are matched to our hands,

A Beetle contemptible, now, / Of said fable the hero I choose; -- / For I want one paltry and low.

Of this insect, every one knows / That -- although from no filth he refrains -- / He will ne'er eat the leaf of a rose.

Here the author should lavish his pains, / While, as well as his talents allow, / This astonishing taste he explains.

To wind up the whole, let him show, / By a sentence pithy and terse, / Just what he could have us to know.

And so let him trick out his verse, / With adornments according to taste; / But this moral conclusive rehearse;

That, as the flowers' beautiful queen / With no coarse, filthy beetle agrees; / So, some tasteless writers no keen / Or delicate fancy can please.