Hymns, Songs, and Fables, for Young People Part 9

Scarce can my wakening sense believe The sounds I hear, the sights I see; Dear Ellen, once again receive Your Squirrel's thanks for Liberty.

THE PIN, NEEDLE, AND SCISSORS.

'Tis true, although 'tis sad to say, Disputes are rising every day.

You'd think, if no one did deny it, A little work-box might be quiet; But 'tis not so, for I did hear, Or else I dreamed it, 'tis so queer, A Pin and Needle in the cus.h.i.+on Maintain the following discussion.

The Needle, "extra fine gold-eyed,"

Was very sharp and full of pride, And thus, methought, she did begin:-- You clumsy, thick, short, ugly Pin, I wish you were not quite so near; How could my mistress stick me here?

She should have put me in my place, With my bright sisters in the case."

"Would you were there!" the Pin replied; "I do not want you by my side.

I'm rather short and thick, 'tis true; Who'd be so long and thin as you?

I've got a head, though, of my own, That you had better let alone."

"You make me laugh," the Needle cried; "That you've a head can't be denied; For _you_ a very proper head, Without an eye, and full of lead."

"You are so cross, and sharp, and thin,"

Replied the poor insulted Pin, "I hardly dare a word to say, And wish indeed you were away; That golden eye in your poor head Was only made to hold a thread; All your fine airs are foolish fudge, For you are nothing but a drudge; But I, in spite of your abuse, Am made for pleasure and for use.

I fasten the bouquet and sash, And help the ladies make a dash; I go abroad and gayly roam, While you are rusting here at home."

"Stop," cried the Needle, "you're too much, You've bra.s.s enough to beat the Dutch; Do I not make the ladies' clothes, Ere I retire to my repose?

Then who, forsooth, the glory wins?

Alas! 'tis finery and pins.

This is the world's unjust decree, But what is this vain world to me?

I'd rather live with my own kin, Than dance about like you, vain Pin.

I'm taken care of every day; You're used awhile, then thrown away, Or else you get all bent up double, And a snug crack for all your trouble."

"True," said the Pin, "I am abused, And sometimes very roughly used; I often get an ugly crook, Or fall into a dirty nook; But there I lie, and never mind it; Who wants a pin is sure to find it; In time I am picked up, and then I lead a merry life again.

You fuss so at a fall or hurt, And, if you get a little dirt, You keep up such an odious creaking, That where you are there is no speaking; And then your lackey Emery's called, And he, poor thing, is p.r.i.c.ked and mauled, Until your daintiness--O, shocking!-- Is fit for what? to mend a stocking!"

The Needle now began to speak,-- They might have quarrelled for a week,-- But here the Scissors interposed.

And thus the warm debate was closed:-- "You angry Needle! foolish Pin!

How did this nonsense first begin?

You should have both been better taught; But I will cut the matter short.

You both are wrong, and both are right, And both are very impolite.

E'en in a work-box 'twill not do To talk of every thing that's true.

All personal remarks avoid, For every one will be annoyed At hearing disagreeable truth; Besides, it shows you quite uncouth, And sadly wanting in good taste.

But what advantages you waste!

Think, Pins and Needles, while you may, How much you hear in one short day; No servants wait on lordly man Can hear one half of what you can.

'Tis not worth while to mince the matter; Nor men nor boys like girls can chatter; All now are learning, forward moving, E'en Pins and Needles are improving; And in this glorious, busy day All have some useful part to play.

Go forth, ye Pins, and bring home news!

Ye Needles in your cases muse!

And take me for your kind adviser, And only think of growing wiser; Then, when you meet again, no doubt, Something you'll have to talk about, And need not get into a pa.s.sion, And quarrel in this vulgar fas.h.i.+on.

Less of yourselves you'll think, and more Of others, than you did before.

You'll learn, that in their own right sphere All things with dignity appear.

And have, when in their proper place, Peculiar use and native grace."

Methought the polished Scissors blushed To have said so much, and all was hushed.

LEARNED FRED.

FROM THE GERMAN.

One short six months had scarcely gone, When, full of all he'd learned, Young Frederick, that hopeful son, From college home returned.

To his paternal roof restored, It was not long before The learned man at table poured The treasures of his lore.

"Now," said the youngster, "father dear, You doubtless think you see Two roasted fowls before us here; But I say there are three.

"_Atqui_ these roasted fowls are two, And one in two must be; _Ergo_,--or logic is not true,-- These roasted fowls are three."

"G.o.d bless your studies!" quoth papa; "'Tis just as you have said; _This_ is for me, _that_ for mamma, The third for learned Fred."

LITTLE ROLAND.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

Lady Bertha sat in the rocky cleft, Her bitter woes to weep; Little Roland played in the free fresh air; His sorrows were not deep.

"My royal brother, O King Charles, Why did I fly from thee?

Splendor and rank I left for love; Now thou art wroth with me.

"O Milon, Milon, husband dear!

Beneath the waves art thou; For love I have forsaken all, Yet love forsakes me now.

"O Roland! thou, my dearest boy, Now fame and love to me; Come quickly, little Roland, come!

My hope rests all on thee.

"Go to the city, Roland, go!

To beg us meat and bread; And whoso gives the smallest gift, Ask blessings on his head."

Now great King Charles at table sat, In the golden hall of state; With dish and cup the servants ran, On the n.o.ble guests to wait.

Flute, harp, and minstrelsy now tune All hearts to joyful mood; The cheerful music does not reach To Bertha's solitude.

Before the hall in the court-yard sat Of beggars a motley throng; The meat and drink was more to them Than flute, and harp, and song.

The king looked out, through the open door, Upon the beggar throng; Through the crowd he saw a n.o.ble boy, Pus.h.i.+ng his way along.

Strange was the little fellow's dress, Of divers colors all; But with the beggars he would not stay,-- He looked up at the hall.

Within the hall little Roland treads, As though it were his own; He takes a dish from the royal board In silence, and is gone.

The king he thinks,--"What do I see?

This is a curious way"; But, as he quietly submits, The rest do nothing say.