FABLE XLVI.
THE HOG AND THE ACORNS.
One moonshiny night,
With a great appetite,
A Hog feasted on Acorns with all his might:
Quite pleased with his prize
Both in taste and in size,
While he ate he devoured the rest with his eyes.
You know, I'm in joke,
When I say that the oak,
Moved a bough to the grunter before she spoke;
But you know, too, in fable,
We feel ourselves able
To make anything speak—tree, flower, or table.
Said the Oak, looking big,
"I think, Mr. Pig,
You might thank me for sending you fruit from my twig;
But, you ill-behaved Hog!
You devour the prog,
And have no better manners, I think, than a dog."
He replied, looking up,
Though not ceasing to sup,
Till the Acorns were eaten—ay, every cup—
"I acknowledge, to you
My thanks would be due,
If from feelings of kindness my supper you threw.
"To-morrow, good dame,
Give my children the same,
And then you, with justice, may gratitude claim."
MORAL.
He merits no praise
To the end of his days,
Who to those who surround him no service conveys.