Journied together on the road.
One carried gold, and went before;
The other sacks of barley bore.
With crest erect the leader strode,
And the bells jingled as he trode.
The other meekly trudg'd along.
A troop of robbers round them throng,
The humble barley who despise,
Intent to seize the richer prize.
The first was wounded in the fray,
And his rich lading borne away.
Wailing his ills with sad lament,
While t'other trotted on content;
"The scorn," he says, "I can endure,
That makes my sacks and hide secure."
Upon the high great perils wait,
Unfear'd by those of humbler state.
Source: Boothby - Phaedrus 2.7.
Click here for a SLIDESHOW of all the Grandville images. This is one of Grandville's marvelously anthropomorphic illustrations!