FABLE LV.
THE JUDGE AND THE ROBBER.
A villain was by hands of justice caught,
Just as of cash, and even of his life,
At the sharp point of murderous knife,
A luckless wayfarer to rob, he sought
The Judge upbraids him with his crime—
He answered: "Sir, from earliest time
I've been a rogue, practised in petty theft;
When buckles, watches, trunks and cloaks,
And swords, I stole from other folks.
Then, fairly launched upon my wild career,
I houses sacked. Now—no compunction left—
On the highways I rob, without a fear.
Let not your worship, then, make such a stir,
That I should rob and slay a traveller—
Nor of the matter make a charge so sore!
I've done such things these forty years, and more."
Do we the bandit's wretched plea allow?
Yet writers give no worthier excuse,
Who justify, by argument of use,
Errors of speech or of expression low—
Urging the long-lived blunders of the past
Against the verdict by sound critics cast.
FABLE LVI.
THE HOUSEMAID AND THE BROOM.
A Housemaid once was sweeping out a room
With a worn-out and very dirty Broom;
"Now, hang you for a Broom!"—said she in wrath—
"For, with the filth and shreds you leave behind
Where'er you go, you 're making, to my mind,
More dirt than you clean up upon your path."