The Talking Beasts Part 36

But, truly, what had been my fate, Had this had half a Pumpkin's weight!

I see that G.o.d had reasons good, And all His works were understood."

Thus home he went in humbler mood.

The Cat and the Fox

The Cat and Fox, when saints were all the rage Together went upon pilgrimage.

Our Pilgrims, as a thing of course, Disputed till their throats were hoa.r.s.e.

Then, dropping to a lower tone, They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, Till Reynard whisper'd to the Cat, "You think yourself a knowing one: How many cunning tricks have you?

For I've a hundred, old and new, All ready in my haversack."

The Cat replied, "I do not lack, Though with but one provided; And, truth to honour, for that matter, I hold it than a thousand better."

In fresh dispute they sided; And loudly were they at it, when Approach'd a mob of dogs and men.

"Now," said the Cat, "your tricks ransack, And put your cunning brains to rack, One life to save; I'll show you mine-- A trick, you see, for saving nine."

With that, she climb'd a lofty pine.

The Fox his hundred ruses tried, And yet no safety found.

A hundred times he falsified.

The nose of every hound Was here, and there, and everywhere, Above, and under ground; But yet to stop he did not dare, Pent in a hole, it was no joke, To meet the terriers or the smoke.

So, leaping into upper air, He met two dogs, that choked him there.

_Expedients may be too many, Consuming time to choose and try.

On one, but that as good as any, 'Tis best in danger to rely._

The City Rat and the Country Rat

A city Rat, one night Did with a civil stoop A Country Rat invite To end a turtle soup.

Upon a Turkey carpet They found the table spread, And sure I need not harp it How well the fellows fed.

The entertainment was A truly n.o.ble one; But some unlucky cause Disturbed it when begun

It was a slight rat-tat, That put their Joys to rout; Out ran the City Rat; His guest, too, scampered out.

Our rats but fairly quit, The fearful knocking ceased, "Return we," said the cit, "To finish there our feast."

"No," said the Rustic Rat; "To-morrow dine with me.

I'm not offended at Your feast so grand and free,

"For I've no fare resembling; But then I eat at leisure, And would not swap for pleasure So mixed with fear and trembling."

The Ploughman and His Sons

A wealthy Ploughman drawing near his end Call'd in his Sons apart from every friend, And said, "When of your sire bereft, The heritage our fathers left Guard well, nor sell a single field.

A treasure in it is conceal'd: The place, precisely, I don't know, But industry will serve to show.

The harvest past. Time's forelock take, And search with plough, and spade, and rake; Turn over every inch of sod, Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod."

The father died. The Sons in vain-- Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; That year their acres bore More grain than e'er before.

Though hidden money found they none, Yet had their Father wisely done, To show by such a measure That toil itself is treasure.

_The farmer's patient care and toil Are oftener wanting than the soil._

The Fox, the Wolf, and the Horse

A Fox, though young, by no means raw, Had seen a Horse, the first he ever saw: "Ho! neighbour Wolf," said he to one quite green, "A creature in our meadow I have seen-- Sleek, grand! I seem to see him yet-- The finest beast I ever met."

"Is he a stouter one than we?"

The Wolf demanded, eagerly; "Some picture of him let me see."

"If I could paint," said Fox, "I should delight T' antic.i.p.ate your pleasure at the sight; But come; who knows? perhaps it is a prey By fortune offer'd in our way."

They went. The Horse, turn'd loose to graze, Not liking much their looks and ways, Was just about to gallop off.

"Sir," said the Fox, "your humble servants, we Make bold to ask you what your name may be."

The Horse, an animal with brains enough, Replied, "Sirs, you yourselves may read my name; My sh.o.e.r round my heel hath writ the same."

The Fox excus'd himself for want of knowledge: "Me, sir, my parents did not educate, So poor, a hole was their entire estate.

My friend, the Wolf, however, taught at college, Could read it, were it even Greek."

The Wolf, to flattery weak, Approached to verify the boast; For which four teeth he lost.

The high raised hoof came down with such a blow As laid him bleeding on the ground full low.

"My brother," said the Fox, "this shows how just What once was taught me by a fox of wit-- Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ-- 'All unknown things the wise mistrust.'"

The Woodman and Mercury

A Man that laboured in the wood Had lost his honest livelihood; That is to say, His axe was gone astray.

He had no tools to spare; This wholly earn'd his fare.

Without a hope beside, He sat him down and cried, "Alas, my axe! where can it be?

O Jove! but send it back to me, And it shall strike good blows for thee."

His prayer in high Olympus heard, Swift Mercury started at the word.

"Your axe must not be lost," said he: "Now, will you know it when you see?

An axe I found upon the road."

With that an axe of gold he show'd.

"Is't this?" The Woodman answer'd, "Nay."

An axe of silver, bright and gay, Refused the honest Woodman too.

At last the finder brought to view An axe of iron, steel, and wood.

"That's mine," he said, in joyful mood; "With that I'll quite contented be."

The G.o.d replied, "I give the three, As due reward of honesty."

This luck when neighbouring choppers knew, They lost their axes, not a few, And sent their prayers to Jupiter So fast, he knew not which to hear.

His winged son, however, sent With gold and silver axes, went.

Each would have thought himself a fool Not to have own'd the richest tool.

But Mercury promptly gave, instead Of it, a blow upon the head.

_With simple truth to be contented, Is surest not to be repented: But still there are who would With evil trap the good, Whose cunning is but stupid, For Jove is never duped._

The Eagle and the Owl