Forc'd on a stream to make their way,

To pot of brass says pot of clay:

"Since brass is stout and clay is frail,

Pray let us at a distance sail.

Not your intention that I fear

Sir Brass," adds humble Earthenware,

"While the winds leave you to yourself;

But woe betide my ribs of delf,If it should dash our sides together;

For mine would be the damage, whether

Their force should you or I impel;

To pray proceed, and fare you well."

Learn hence, ye folks of low estate,

To keep due distance from the great.