The fay then reappear’d, and spake The moral of my song:— “Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.”
Love is a heavenly prize in sooth, But earthborn flesh and bone, If they would love, must live as well, And cannot love alone.
Then strive to earn the bread of life, And guard your body’s health; But mark--enough is all you want, And competence is wealth.
And to that happy soul, who love With competency blends, Contentment is a crown of joy!— And here the moral ends.
A brief Account of the sad Accident which befel
showing plainly what brought about the same.
_A Lay of the Nursery, as chanted to simple Music by the lady-governesses of the olden time._
A LITTLE girl once lived in a cottage near a tree, A pretty little girl she was, and good as she could be. Her father often kiss’d her; and her mother loved her so, That if the king had pledged his crown for her, she had said--no. Her grandmother, who lived in a village through a wood, Had made her little granddaughter a nice red riding-hood, This riding-hood she used to wear whenever she walk’d out; It was so smart, the boys and girls would follow her about. And all the neighbours loved her, and to see her often came; And little Dame Red-riding-hood they call’d her for her name.
One beautiful fine morning when her mother had been churning, This little girl upon the hearth some nice sweet cakes was turning: And whisper’d softly to herself, how well our oven bakes! Oh, how I wish that grandmamma could taste these nice sweet cakes! Her mother who was close behind, and heard her little mutter, Then you shall take her some, she said, with some of my fresh butter. But loiter not upon the road, nor from the footpath stray, For many wicked folks there be might harm thee by the way. As soon as she had heard these words, oh! how she jump’d for joy! For she old granny loved as much as most love a new toy. She put on her red-riding-hood, and started off in haste; All eager for her grandmother her nice sweet cakes to taste. And thus as on she trotted with her basket on her arm, She little thought that any one would wish to do her harm.
Now when she came into the wood, through which the footpath lay, The birds were singing all around, the flowers were blooming gay. Such yellow buttercups she saw, such violets white and blue, Such primroses, such sweet-briars, and honey-suckles too; That, oh! she thought within herself, I wish Mamma were here: I’m sure she’d let me stop awhile; there can be nought to fear: I must just pick these pretty flowers which smell so fresh and sweet: ’Twill be so nice to take her home a nose-gay for a treat. She told me not to loiter here, nor from the footpath stray; And so I wont stop very long, nor wander far away. And so she stopp’d, nor thought of harm, because she knew not what: Enough it should have been to know--Mamma had told her not. And from the path she stray’d away, and pick’d a thousand flowers; And all the birds did welcome her within their leafy bowers. But, as it so fell out, a wolf was basking in the grass, And soon with his sharp hazel eyes espied the little lass. And then he trotted up to her, and right before her stood: How do you do, my dear? said he; what brings you to my wood? Now though his coat was very rough, his words were soft and kind; And not a single thought of fear e’er cross’d her simple mind. And so she freely said,--I go to see my Granny, Sir, Who lives in yonder village in the cottage near the fir. I am her little pet, you know, and take her nice sweet cakes-- Good bye; said he, and brush’d away thro’ bushes and thro’ brakes. And not five minutes had pass’d by since he had quitted her, Before he reach’d the village and the cottage near the fir.