The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg
Two Rats in foraging fell on an Egg—
For gentry such as they
A genteel dinner every way;
They needed not to find an ox's leg.
Brimful of joy and appetite,
They were about to sack the box,
So tight without the aid of locks,
When suddenly there came in sight
A personage—Sir Slyboots Fox.
Sure, luck was never more untoward
Since Fortune was a vixen froward!
How should they save their Egg—and bacon?
Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd.
Should it in forward paws be taken,
Or roll'd along, or dragg'd?
Each method seem'd impossible,
And each was then of danger full.
Necessity, ingenious mother,
Brought forth what help'd them from their pother.
As still there was a chance to save their prey,
The sponger yet some hundred yards away—
One seized the Egg, and turned upon his back,
And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack,
That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail,
The other dragg'd him by the tail.
Who dares the inference to blink,
That beasts possess wherewith to think?
Were I commission'd to bestow
This power on creatures here below,
The beasts should have as much of mind
As infants of the human kind.
The Lion's Share
The Heifer, the Goat, and their sister the Sheep,
Compacted their earnings in common to keep,
'Tis said, in time past, with a Lion, who swayed
Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade.
The Goat, as it happened, a Stag having snared,
Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared.
All gathered; the Lion first counts on his claws,
And says, "We'll proceed to divide with our paws
The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws."
This done, he announces part first as his own;
"'Tis mine," he says, "truly, as Lion alone."
To such a decision there's nought to be said,
As he who has made it is doubtless the head.
"Well, also, the second to me should belong;
'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong.
Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine.
To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign,
I'll choke him to death
In the space of a breath!"
The Shepherd and His Dog
A Shepherd, with a single Dog,
Was ask'd the reason why
He kept a Dog, whose least supply
Amounted to a loaf of bread
For every day. The people said
He'd better give the animal
To guard the village seignior's hall;
For him, a Shepherd, it would be
A thriftier economy
To keep small curs, say two or three,
That would not cost him half the food,
And yet for watching be as good.
The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell
If they would fight the wolf as well.
The silly Shepherd, giving heed,
Cast off his Dog of mastiff breed,
And took three dogs to watch his cattle,
Which ate far less, but fled in battle.
Not vain our tale, if it convinces
Small states that 'tis a wiser thing
To trust a single powerful king,
Than half a dozen petty princes.
The Old Man and the Ass
An Old Man, riding on his Ass,
Had found a spot of thrifty grass,
And there turn'd loose his weary beast.
Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast,
Flung up his heels, and caper'd round,
Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground,
And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd,
And many a clean spot made.
Arm'd men came on them as he fed:
"Let's fly!" in haste the Old Man said.
"And wherefore so?" the Ass replied;
"With heavier burdens will they ride?"
"No," said the man, already started,
"Then," cried the Ass, as he departed.
"I'll stay, and be—no matter whose;
Save you yourself, and leave me loose,
But let me tell you, ere you go
(I speak plain English, as you know),
My master is my only foe."