Though he now bristled up at the simple idea,
This was often, with him, but a symptom of fear.
As he spoke, a poor toad, who had sate quite aloof
In a hovel of earth, with a stone for a roof,
Now slowly, on tiptoe, crept out of his hole,
And into the midst of the company stole;
The quadrupeds gazed as the reptile drew nigh,
Half afraid of his looks, though they could not tell why.
Mouse’s hair stood on end, and, still stranger to say,
Miss Chameleon changed colour, and fainted away.