The trap upon his neck closed hard and fast.
“Help me, my little nephew, for I fear
This is no convent, ’tis no house of prayer!”
The little fox with joy beheld the whole
And sang a mass for his great uncle’s soul.
“The wrong thou didst the wolf has brought thee there;
It is a house of rest, a house of prayer!”
O sovereign Justice, much thou pleasest me—
Who wrongs another soon shall cease to be.
And fasting in the trap must lie the bear,—