Boothby: Phaedrus to his Critics

Wise Critics, who my fables cite,
And weigh as grave what should be light,
I here will try, to please you bent,
Esop on buskins to present:
"Why, Peleus, did thy pine-trees tall
Beneath Thessalian axes fall?
Why Pallas lend too fatal aid,
That Jason's fleet might first invade
Euxine's inhospitable shore,
And her tempestuous seas explore?
Greeks and barbarians curs'd the gales
That prosperous swell'd his parting sails;
Dim sorrow veil'd the Ectian climes,
Sad region of Medea's crimes,
Whose genius arts forbidden dar'd:
A brother's life the charm prepar'd;
With soul to deeds of death inur'd,
His scatter'd limbs her flight secur'd;
Daughters, with direful spells misled,
Touch'd with their impious hands a father's head."
What say you, sirs?"Bombast and old;
And you a falsity have told;
For angry Minos, long before,
Had sail'd to the Egean shore,
And a just vengeance ta'en."Tis true;
Then what, wise Catos, must I do
Your praise to gain, since I'm unable
With epic or domestic fable?
E'en to inquire no more about it,
And live contentedly without it.
I speak to the fastidious crew
Who heaven would blame their wit to shew.

Source: Boothby - Phaedrus 4.7.