No sooner did the G.o.d of day His glorious locks enkindle, Than both the wheels began to play, And from each whirling spindle Forth danced the thread right merrily, And back was coil'd unceasingly.

Soon as the dawn, I say, its tresses show'd, A graceless c.o.c.k most punctual crow'd.

The beldam roused, more graceless yet, In greasy petticoat bedight, Struck up her farthing light, And then forthwith the bed beset, Where deeply, blessedly did snore Those two maid-servants tired and poor.

One oped an eye, an arm one stretch'd, And both their breath most sadly fetch'd, This threat concealing in the sigh-- "That cursed c.o.c.k shall surely die!"

And so he did:--they cut his throat, And put to sleep his rousing note.

And yet this murder mended not The cruel hardship of their lot; For now the twain were scarce in bed Before they heard the summons dread.

The beldam, full of apprehension Lest oversleep should cause detention, Ran like a goblin through her mansion.

_Thus often, when one thinks_ _To clear himself from ill,_ _His effort only sinks_ _Him in the deeper still._ _The beldam acting for the c.o.c.k,_ _Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO SERVANTS.]

The a.s.s Carrying Relics.

An a.s.s, with relics for his load, Supposed the worship on the road Meant for himself alone, And took on lofty airs, Receiving as his own The incense and the prayers.

Some one, who saw his great mistake, Cried, "Master Donkey, do not make Yourself so big a fool.

Not you they worship, but your pack; They praise the idols on your back, And count yourself a paltry tool."

_'Tis thus a brainless magistrate_ _Is honour'd for his robe of state._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE a.s.s CARRYING RELICS.]

The Hare and the Partridge.

A field in common share A partridge and a hare, And live in peaceful state, Till, woeful to relate!

The hunters' mingled cry Compels the hare to fly.

He hurries to his fort, And spoils almost the sport By faulting every hound That yelps upon the ground.

At last his reeking heat Betrays his snug retreat.

Old Tray, with philosophic nose, Snuffs carefully, and grows So certain, that he cries, "The hare is here; bow wow!"

And veteran Ranger now,-- The dog that never lies,-- "The hare is gone," replies.

Alas! poor, wretched hare, Back comes he to his lair, To meet destruction there!

The partridge, void of fear, Begins her friend to jeer:-- "You bragg'd of being fleet; How serve you, now, your feet?"

Scarce has she ceased to speak,-- The laugh yet in her beak,-- When comes her turn to die, From which she could not fly.

She thought her wings, indeed, Enough for every need; But in her laugh and talk, Forgot the cruel hawk!

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE.]

The Lion Going to War.

The lion had an enterprise in hand; Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal, And gave the animals a call impartial-- Each, in his way, to serve his high command.

The elephant should carry on his back The tools of war, the mighty public pack, And fight in elephantine way and form; The bear should hold himself prepared to storm; The fox all secret stratagems should fix; The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks.

"Dismiss," said one, "the blockhead a.s.ses, And hares, too cowardly and fleet."

"No," said the king; "I use all cla.s.ses; Without their aid my force were incomplete.

The a.s.s shall be our trumpeter, to scare Our enemy. And then the nimble hare Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear."

_A monarch provident and wise_ _Will hold his subjects all of consequence,_ _And know in each what talent lies._ _There's nothing useless to a man of sense._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LION GOING TO WAR.]

The Old Man and the a.s.s.

An old man, riding on his a.s.s, Had found a spot of thrifty gra.s.s, And there turn'd loose his weary beast.

Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, Flung up his heels, and caper'd round, Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground, And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd, And many a clean spot made.

Arm'd men came on them as he fed: "Let's fly," in haste the old man said.

"And wherefore so?" the a.s.s replied; "With heavier burdens will they ride?"

"No," said the man, already started.

"Then," cried the a.s.s, as he departed "I'll stay, and be--no matter whose; Save you yourself, and leave me loose But let me tell you, ere you go, (I speak plain English, as you know,) My master is my only foe."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD MAN AND THE a.s.s.]

The a.s.s and his Masters.

A gardener's a.s.s complain'd to Destiny Of being made to rise before the dawn.

"The c.o.c.ks their matins have not sung," said he, "Ere I am up and gone.

And all for what? To market herbs, it seems.

Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!"

Fate, moved by such a prayer, Sent him a currier's load to bear, Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, They almost choked the foolish beast.

"I wish me with my former lord," he said: "For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, If on the watch, I caught A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought.

But, in this horrid place, I find No chance or windfall of the kind;-- Or if, indeed, I do, The cruel blows I rue."

Anon it came to pa.s.s He was a collier's a.s.s.

Still more complaint. "What now?" said Fate, Quite out of patience.

"If on this jacka.s.s I must wait, What will become of kings and nations?

Has none but he aught here to tease him?

Have I no business but to please him?"

And Fate had cause;--for all are so Unsatisfied while here below.

Our present lot is aye the worst.

Our foolish prayers the skies infest.

Were Jove to grant all we request, The din renew'd, his head would burst.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE a.s.s AND HIS MASTERS.]