THE SQUIRREL AND THE HORSE.
A Steed,—a noble sorrel,—
Docile to spur and rein,
Before a little Squirrel
Went dashing round a plain.
Watching awhile his motions,
So swift, yet regular,
The Squirrel brisk bespeaks him
As follows: "My dear sir,
No great merit
All this deftness,
Grace and lightness—
Such I've often seen before.
With equal spirit,
Just such gambols
I can do, and even more.
I am sprightly,
I am active;
Always lightly
Moving round,
From ground to tree,
And tree to ground,
I am never quiet found."
Checking his pace a moment,
The good colt his gallop stayed,
And in grave tone, as follows,
To the Squirrel answer made:
"Comings and goings,
Turns and twists,
Idle freaks,
Heed who lists.
All this no useful purpose speaks.
Not so futile
My endeavor,
In my duty
Faithful ever.
My master to serve,
I strain every nerve
To be always prompt and clever."
On puerile trifles of the day,
Some time and talents throw away;
And thus the Squirrel's part they play.
FABLE XXXII.
THE FOX AND THE LADY.
A famous gallant, of Parisian renown,
A Fop of the most extravagant taste,
Who silver and gold like water would waste,
With a new suit each day to dazzle the town,—
On the festival day of his lady love placed
On his shoes two paltry buckles of tin;
In order to show, by this frivolous whim,
That he courted not fame, but that fame courted him.
"What beautiful silver, so brilliant and gay!"
Said the lady. "Huzza for the taste and the rule
Of the master of fashion, the pride of our day!"
Thus a volume of nonsense, or, I am a fool,
The world will devour, if subscribed with the name
Of a popular author, established in fame.