But, first, let's seal the bliss With one fraternal kiss."

"Good friend," the c.o.c.k replied, "upon my word, A better thing I never heard; And doubly I rejoice To hear it from your voice; And, really there must be something in it, For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter Myself are couriers on this very matter.

They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute.

I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing With general kissing and caressing."

"Adieu," said fox; "my errand's pressing; I'll hurry on my way, And we'll rejoice some other day."

So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, Less happy in his stratagem than flight.

The c.o.c.k laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;-- 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE c.o.c.k AND THE FOX.]

The Lion beaten by the Man.

A picture once was shown, In which one man, alone, Upon the ground had thrown A lion fully grown.

Much gloried at the sight the rabble.

A lion thus rebuked their babble:-- "That you have got the victory there, There is no contradiction.

But, gentles, possibly you are The dupes of easy fiction: Had we the art of making pictures, Perhaps our champion had beat yours!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.]

Philomel and Progne.

From home and city spires, one day, The swallow Progne flew away, And sought the bosky dell Where sang poor Philomel.

"My sister," Progne said, "how do you do?

'Tis now a thousand years since you Have been conceal'd from human view; I'm sure I have not seen your face Once since the times of Thrace.

Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?"

"Where could I find," said Philomel, "so sweet?"

"What! sweet?" cried Progne--"sweet to waste Such tones on beasts devoid of taste Or on some rustic, at the most!

Should you by deserts be engross'd?

Come, be the city's pride and boast.

Besides, the woods remind of harms That Tereus in them did your charms."

"Alas!" replied the bird of song, "The thought of that so cruel wrong Makes me, from age to age, Prefer this hermitage; For nothing like the sight of men Can call up what I suffer'd then."

[Ill.u.s.tration: PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.]

The Camel and the Floating Sticks.

The first who saw the humpback'd camel Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare The desert wanderer to trammel.

Such is the power of use to change The face of objects new and strange; Which grow, by looking at, so tame, They do not even seem the same.

And since this theme is up for our attention, A certain watchman I will mention, Who, seeing something far Away upon the ocean, Could not but speak his notion That 'twas a ship of war.

Some minutes more had past,-- A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail, And then a boat, and then a bale, And floating sticks of wood at last!

_Full many things on earth, I wot,_ _Will claim this tale,--and well they may;_ _They're something dreadful far away,_ _But near at hand--they're not._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.]

The Wolf, the Goat, and the Kid.

As went a goat of gra.s.s to take her fill, And browse the herbage of a distant hill, She latch'd her door, and bid, With matron care, her kid; "My daughter, as you live, This portal don't undo To any creature who This watchword does not give: 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!'"

The wolf was pa.s.sing near the place By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, And laid them up as useful treasure; And hardly need we mention, Escaped the goat's attention.

No sooner did he see The matron off, than he, With hypocritic tone and face, Cried out before the place, "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"

Not doubting thus to gain admission.

The kid, not void of all suspicion, Peer'd through a crack, and cried, "Show me white paw before You ask me to undo the door."

The wolf could not, if he had died, For wolves have no connection With pains of that complexion.

So, much surprised, our gourmandiser Retired to fast till he was wiser.

_How would the kid have been undone_ _Had she but trusted to the word?_ _The wolf by chance had overheard!_ _Two sureties better are than one;_ _And caution's worth its cost,_ _Though sometimes seeming lost._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.]

The Rat Retired from the World.

The sage Levantines have a tale About a rat that weary grew Of all the cares which life a.s.sail, And to a Holland cheese withdrew.

His solitude was there profound, Extending through his world so round.

Our hermit lived on that within; And soon his industry had been With claws and teeth so good, That in his novel hermitage, He had in store, for wants of age, Both house and livelihood.

One day this personage devout, Whose kindness none might doubt, Was ask'd, by certain delegates That came from Rat-United-States, For some small aid, for they To foreign parts were on their way, For succour in the great cat-war.

Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, Their whole republic drain'd and poor, No morsel in their scrips they bore.

Slight boon they craved, of succour sure In days at utmost three or four.

"My friends," the hermit said, "To worldly things I'm dead.

How can a poor recluse To such a mission be of use?

What can he do but pray That G.o.d will aid it on its way?

And so, my friends, it is my prayer That G.o.d will have you in his care."

His well-fed saintship said no more, But in their faces shut the door.

_What think you, reader, is the service_ _For which I use this n.i.g.g.ard rat?_ _To paint a monk? No, but a dervise._ _A monk, I think, however fat,_ _Must be more bountiful than that._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.]