At last they came to a village gate;
A beggar lay whistling there;
He whistled and sang and laughed, and rolled
On the grass in the soft June air.
The weary couriers paused and looked
At the scamp so blithe and gay,
And one of them said, "Heaven save you, friend,
You seem to be happy to-day?"
"Oh, yes, fair sirs," the rascal laughed,
And his voice rang free and glad;
"An idle man has so much to do
That he never has time to be sad."
"This is our man." the courier said,
"Our luck has led us aright.
I will give you a hundred ducats, friend,
For the loan of your shirt to-night."
The merry rascal lay back on the grass
And laughed till his face was black;
"I would do it," said he, and roared with the fun,
"But I haven't a shirt to my back!"
Each day to the king the reports came in
Of the unsuccessful spies;
And the sad panorama of human woes,
Passed daily under his eyes.
And he grew ashamed of his useless life,
And his maladies hatched in gloom;
He opened his windows and let the free air
Of the heavens into his room.
And out he went into the world and toiled
In his own appointed way,
And the people blest him, the land was glad,
And the king was well and gay.
DER OAK UND DER VINE
BY CHARLES FOLLEN ADAMS
I don'd vas preaching voman's righdts,
Or anyding like dot,
Und I likes to see all beoples
Shust gontended mit dheir lot;
But I vants to gontradict dot shap
Dot made dis leedle shoke:
"A voman vas der glinging vine,
Und man, der shturdy oak."