“One would think, for all you care,
Spiders could subsist on air.
Listen to this tale and see
If you don’t agree with me!”
* * *
I sat down without a word,
Following is the tale I heard:
THE TALE.
The Spider spinneth a yarn to instruct the Poet and divert him that he may forget about the Fly.
A Prince who sought
His lost Bride, caught
In the toils of a witch,—woe betide her!—
When riding one night
Through a forest, caught sight
Of a Spi in the web of a Flyder.
(As perhaps you surmise,
I have tried to disguise,
The names, with the best of intention:
For I make it my plan,
Whenever I can,
To avoid any personal mention.)
Said the Prince to the Spi,
“Supposing that I
Should deliver you out of this hatefulness,
Will you pay me in kind,
And help me to find
My Bride?—Can I count on your gratefulness?”
Said the Spi, “Without doubt,
If you will let me out
From the web of the terrible Flyder,
By all means—oh, yes!
You shall find your Princess,
For I will myself be your guider!”
The Flyder does not see it in the same light as the Prince.