But the vile barley-bags despise.
The plunder’d mule was all forlorn,
The other thank’d them for their scorn:
“’Tis now my turn the head to toss,
Sustaining neither wound nor loss.”
The low estate’s from peril clear,
But wealthy men have much to fear.
[VIII.] THE STAG AND THE OXEN.
A Stag unharbour’d by the hounds,
Forth from his woodland covert bounds,