Would throw dust in the eyes of their natural foes.
“The chief reason,” said they, “why the favor we ask ye,
Is because, as we hear, little Count Borowlaski
Last night, for a Pigmy, was chas’d by a Crane,
But, by standing on tip-toe, escap’d being slain;
And it matters but little, since life is so sweet,
If we save it by slitting, or stretching, our feet.”
The Buzzard,—a mighty weak kind of a fowl,
Hit on no better method of seeming an Owl,
Than by catching a Mouse, and affecting to howl.