This pious cheat, that never sucked I hope, my lord, said he, I not offend; Are you afraid of me, that am your friend? the biood, Nor chewed the flesh of lamis, but when he could; Had passed three summers in the neighboring wood: And musing long, whom next to circumvent, On Chanticleer his wicked fancy And in his high imagination cast, Saint Reynard through the hedge had The pale was next, but proudly with a bound He leapt the fence of the forbidden ground: Yet fearing to be seen, within a bed Of coleworts he concealed his wily head; Then skulked tll afternoon, and watched his time, (As murderers use) to perpetrate his crime. As sore dismayed and frighted at his For birds and beasts, informed by Kinds opposite to theirs, and fly their I were a beast indeed to do you As with an upright heart I safely may, That, save yourself, there breathes not on the ground One like your father for a silversound. [day, So sweetly would he wake the winterSo Chanticleer, who never saw a That matrons to the church mistook foe. fox. Yet shunn'd him as a sailor shuns the rocks. But the false loon, who could not work his will By open force, employed his flattering skill; their way, And thought they heard the merry organ play. And he to raise his voice with artful care, (What will not beaux attempt to please the fair ?) This, since you take it ill, I must repent, Though Heaven can witness, with no bad intent cheer I practised it, to make you taste your With double pleasure, first prepared by fear. Descend! so help me Jove! as you shall find That Reynard comes of no dissembling kind. Nay, quoth the cock; but I beshrew us both, If I believe a saint upon his oath: An honest man may take a knave's advice, Shall soothe me more to sing with winking eyes, And open mouth, for fear of catching flies. Who blindfold walks upon a river's brim, When he should see, has he deserved to swim ? Better, Sir Cock, let all contentions cease, Come down, said Reynard, let us treat of peace. A peace with all my soul, said Chanticleer; But, with your favor, I will treat it here: And lest the truce with treason should be mix'd, But idiots only may be cozened twice: Once warned is well bewared. Not 'Tis my concern to have the tree beflattering lies twixt. JOHN GAY. THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS. FRIENDSHIP, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. A hare, who, in a civil way, Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the bestial train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain; Her care was never to offend: As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies. She starts, she stops, she pants for breath, She hears the near advance of death; The sheep was feeble, and complained, "His sides a load of wool sustained; Said he was slow, confessed his fears; For hounds eat sheep as well as hares." She now the trotting calf addressed; To save from death a friend distressed. "Shall I," says he, "of tender age, In this important care engage? Older and abler passed you by; How strong are those! how weak am 1! Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence. Excuse me, then; you know my heart; But dearest friends, alas! must part. How shall we all lament! Adieu; For see, the hounds are just in view." THE MOTHER, THE NURSE, AND THE FAIRY. "GIVE me a son." The blessing sent, Were ever parents more content? How partial are their doting eyes! No child is half so fair and wise. Waked to the morning's pleasing care. The mother rose and sought her heir. She saw the nurse like one possest, With wringing hands and sobbing breast. "Sure, some disaster has befell; Speak, nurse, I hope the boy is well." Dear madam, think not me to blame; Invisible the fairy came: Your precious babe is hence conveyed, And in the place a changeling laid. Where are the father's mouth and nose? The mother's eyes, as black as sloes? See, here, a shocking awkward creature, That speaks a fool in every feature." "The woman's blind," the mother cries, "I see wit sparkle in his eyes." Dow's Flat. That's its name. For thar isn't a man on the river as can't spot the place at first view. It was called after Dow, Which the same was an ass; Thet the thing kem to pass, Just tie up your hoss to that buckeye, and sit ye down here in the grass. You see this yer Dow Hed the worst kind of luck; He slipped up somehow On each thing thet he struck. Why, ef he'd a' straddled that fence-rail the derned thing 'ed get up and buck. |