4. RED SLIPPERS.
A wicked cat, grown old and gray,
That she was a shoemaker chose to say,
And put before her window a board
Where slippers for young maidens were stored;
While some were of morocco made,
Others of satin were there display’d;
Of velvet some, with edges of gold,
And figured strings, all gay to behold.
But fairest of all exposed to view
Was a pair of slippers of scarlet hue;
They gave full many a lass delight
With their gorgeous colours and splendour bright.
A young and snow-white noble mouse
Who chanced to pass the shoemaker’s house
First turn’d to look, and then stood still,
And then peep’d over the window sill.
At length she said: “Good day, mother cat:
“You’ve pretty red slippers, I grant you that.
“If they’re not dear, I’m ready to buy,
“So tell me the price, if it’s not too high.”
“My good young lady,” the cat replied,
“Pray do me the favour to step inside,
“And honour my house, I venture to pray,
“With your gracious presence. Allow me to say
“That the fairest maidens come shopping to me,
“And duchesses too, of high degree.
“The slippers I’m willing full cheap to sell,
“Yet let us see if they’ll fit you well.
“Pray step inside, and take a seat”—
Thus the wily cat did falsely entreat,
And the poor white thing in her ignorance then
Fell plump in the snare in that murderous den.
The little mouse sat down on a chair,
And lifted her small leg up in the air,
In order to try how the red shoes fitted,
A picture of innocent calm to be pitied.
When sudden the wicked cat seized her fast,
Her murderous talons around her cast,
And bit right off her poor little head.
“My dear white creature,” the cat then said,
“My sweet little mouse, you’re as dead as a rat.
“The scarlet red slippers that served me so pat
“I’ll kindly place on the top of your tomb,
“And when is heard, on the last day of doom,
“The sound of the trump, O mouse so white,
“From out of your grave you’ll come to light,
“Like all the rest, and then you’ll be able
“To wear your red slippers.” Here ends my fable.
MORAL.
Ye little white mice, take care where you go,
And don’t be seduced by worldly show;
I counsel you sooner barefooted to walk,
Than buy slippers of cats, however they talk.
5. BABYLONIAN SORROWS.
I’m summon’d by death. I’d fain, my love,
Have left thee behind in a wood to rove,
In one of those forests of firs so drear,
Where vultures build, and wolves’ howlings we hear,
Where the wild sow fearfully grunts evermore,
The lawful spouse of the light grey boar.
I’m summon’d by death. ’Twere better far
If I, where the stormy billows are,
Had had to leave thee, my wife, my child,
And straightway the northpole’s tempest wild
The waters had flogg’d, and out of the deep
The hideous monsters that in it sleep,
The crocodile fierce and the shark, had come
With open jaws, and around thee swum.
Believe me, my child, Matilda, my wife,
That the angry sea, in its wildest strife,
And the cruel forest less dangers give
Than the city where we’re now fated to live.
Though fearful the wolf and the vulture may be,
The shark, and the monsters dread of the sea,
Far fiercer, more furious beasts have their birth
In Paris, the capital proud of the earth.
Fair Paris, the singing, so gay in her revels,
That hell to the angels, that heaven to devils.—
That thee I must leave in this dungeon sad,
This drives me crazy, this drives me mad.
With scornful buzzing around my bed
The black flies come; on my nose and head
They perch themselves—detestable race!
Amongst them are some with a human face,
And elephants’ trunks (though small in span)
Like the god Ganesa in Hindostan.
In my brain I hear noises and heavy knocks,
It sounds as if they were packing a box,
And my reason departs, alas! alas!
Ere I myself from this earth can pass.