Aesop, in Rhyme - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"But, dear madam," said he, "you are dining, I see; On that subject I'd ask your advice; Pray, ma'am, now can you tell, where provisions they sell, That are not an extravagant price?
"Bread and meat are so dear, and have been for a year, That poor people can scarcely endure it, And then _cheese is so high_, that such beggars as I, _Till it falls_, cannot hope to procure it."
But the ill-behaved bird did not utter a word, Still intent on retaining her plunder; Thought the fox, "It should seem, this is not a good scheme, What else can I think of, I wonder?"
So said Reynard once more, "I ne'er knew it before, But your feathers are whiter than snow is!"
But thought he, when he'd said it, "she'll ne'er give it credit, For what bird is so black as a crow is."
"But I'm told that your voice is a horrible noise, Which they say of all sounds is the oddest; But then this is absurd, for it never is heard, Since you are so excessively modest."
If _that's_ all thought the crow, "I will soon let you know That all doubt on that score may be ended;"
Then most laughingly piped, the poor silly biped, When quickly her dinner descended!
MORAL.
If this _biped_ had not been so vain and conceited, She would not by the fox quite so soon have been cheated; But perhaps the term _biped_ to some may be new: 'Tis a two-legged creature--perchance it is _you_.
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THE LION AND THE ECHO.
A lion, bravest of the wood, Whose t.i.tle undisputed stood, As o'er the wide domains he prowl'd, And in pursuit of booty growl'd, An Echo from a distant cave Regrowl'd, articulately grave: His majesty, surprised, began To think at first it was a man; But on reflection sage, he found It was too like a lion's sound.
"Whose voice is that which growls at mine?"
His highness ask'd. Says Echo, "Mine!"
"Thine!" says the Lion: "Who art thou?"
Echo as stern cried, "Who art thou?"
"Know I'm a lion, hear and tremble!"
Replied the king. Cried Echo, "Tremble!"
"Come forth," says Lion; "show thyself."
Laconic Echo answered, "Elf."
"Elf, durst thou call me, vile pretender?"
Echo as loud replies, "Pretender!"
At this, as jealous of his reign, He growl'd in rage; she growl'd again.
Incensed the more, he chafed and foam'd, And round the s.p.a.cious forest roam'd To find the rival of his throne, Who durst with him dispute the crown.
A fox, who listen'd all the while, Address'd the monarch with a smile: "My liege, most humbly I make bold, Though truth may not be always told, That this same phantom which you hear, That so alarms your royal ear, Is not a rival of your throne: The voice and fears are all your own."
Imaginary terrors scare A timorous soul with real fear; Nay, even the wise and brave are cow'd By apprehensions from the crowd: A frog a lion may disharm, And yet how causeless the alarm!
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THE PAPER KITE.
Once on a time, a paper kite Was mounted to a wondrous height; Where, giddy with its elevation, It thus express'd self-admiration: "See how yon crowds of gazing people Admire my flight above the steeple; How would they wonder, if they knew All that a kite, like me, could do?
Were I but free, I'd take a flight, And pierce the clouds beyond their sight.
But, ah! like a poor prisoner bound, My string confines me near the ground.
I'd brave the eagle's towering wing, Might I but fly without a string."
It tugg'd and pull'd, while thus it spoke, To break the string--at last it broke!
Deprived at once of all its stay, In vain it tried to soar away: Unable its own weight to bear, It flutter'd downward through the air; Unable its own course to guide, The winds soon plunged it in the tide.
Oh! foolish kite, thou hadst no wing, How could'st thou fly without a string?
My heart replied, "Oh, Lord, I see How much the kite resembles me!
Forgetful that by thee I stand, Impatient of thy ruling hand; How oft I've wish'd to break the lines Thy wisdom for my lot a.s.signs!
How oft indulged a vain desire For something more or something higher!
And but for grace and love divine, A fall thus dreadful had been mine."
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THE RATS AND THE CHEESE.
If bees a government maintain, Why may not rats of stronger brain And greater power, as well bethought By Machiavelian axioms taught?
And so they are, for thus of late It happened in the rats' free state.
Their prince (his subjects more to please) Had got a mighty Ches.h.i.+re cheese, In which his ministers of state Might live in plenty and grow great.
A powerful party straight combined, And their united forces join'd, To bring their measures into play, For none so loyal were as they; And none such patriots, to support As well the country as the court.
No sooner were those Dons admitted But (all those wondrous virtues quitted) They all the speediest means devise To raise themselves and families.
Another party well observing These pamper'd were, while they were starving, Their ministry brought in disgrace, Expelled them and supplied their place; These on just principles were known The true supporters of the throne, And for the subjects liberty They'd (marry would they) freely die; But being well fix'd in their station, Regardless of their prince and nation, Just like the others, all their skill Was how they might their paunches fill.
On this a rat, not quite so blind In state intrigues as human kind, But of more honor, thus replied: "Confound ye all on either side; All your contentions are but these, Whose arts shall best secure the cheese."
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AURELIA AND THE SPIDER.
The muslin torn, from tears of grief In vain Aurelia sought relief; In sighs and plaints she pa.s.s'd the day; The tatter'd frock neglected lay: While busied at the weaving trade, A spider heard the sighing maid And kindly stopping in a trice, Thus offer'd (gratis) her advice: "Turn, little girl! behold in me A stimulus to industry Compare your woes, my dear, with mine, Then tell me who should most repine: This morning, ere you left your room, The chambermaid's remorseless broom In one sad moment that destroy'd, To build which thousands were employ'd!
The shock was great; but as my life I saved in the relentless strife, I knew lamenting was in vain, So patient went to work again.
By constant work, a day or more, My little mansion did restore: And if each tear which you have shed Had been a needle-full of thread, If every sigh of sad despair Had been a st.i.tch of proper care, Closed would have been the luckless rent, Nor thus the day have been misspent."
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