Who has never beheld when an old lady slips On the pavement of wood, which her toe upward trips, A dense crowd bustle round, quick as bees to a hive, While in vain she, though fainting, for fresh air may strive? Or when, at the close of a hot summer's day, As the sun tints the lake with his bright crimson ray, Who has never remarked how the fishes will rise If you throw in some bread, while to seize on the prize They will upset each other, and splutter about, Till their heads and their tails from the river peep out?
So exactly it was at the time I am speaking, Ev'ry one for himself is the best place out seeking, Taking care a nice dish shall stand nearly before him, With some fair one by side he would fain have adore him.
Now a passage to quote from an elegant Poet, Whose name I can't tell, for I really don't know it; It is not from Byron, or Chaucer, or Pope, Or Milton, or Cowper, and I therefore must hope You won't search through their writings to find it-- Let me see, is it Shakespeare's? no, 'tis n't his either; Nor More's, Prior's, Dryden's--of theirs it is neither. Where can I have read it? I cannot remember, I might waste all my time from Spring to December, In trying to think--so don't mind it.
But I've heard that you ought, When you borrow a thought, Just to mention the place whence you brought it. Still, although this seems right, 'Tis not possible quite, To kill even a flea till you've caught it.
The quotation I'd note Was a fable one wrote, As a means to convey information. Like a sandwich, between May a moral be seen, Wrapped up in a pleasant narration.
Once the Lion invited to hunt and to dine, And to taste a few skins of his favourite wine, All his friends of the forest--who said they'd be there, In the sports of the chase and the victuals to share; Then the cunning fox scampered the country around, Just to stop up the holes, and survey well the ground; While the wolves have agreed to act dogs for the day, And the jackall has orders to search out for prey. There's his highness, Lord Camel, and Sir Grisly Bear, With his tall Polish friend, who continues to wear That long warm furry mantle, which looks just like snow, And descends in short flakes till it wraps round each toe. Majors Leopard and Tiger, just fresh from Bombay, Of the proud native corps, have, undoubted, the sway, Who would rather prefer to lie dead on the field Than retreat from the foe, or the slightest point yield. Count Panther and young Lord Hyena together Are chatting, and making remarks on the weather; The Count thinks it will rain, though at present 'tis clear; While Lord Hyena laughs at the very idea. The Grand Sultan Elephant cannot go out To the hunt, as he has an attack of the gout; But says of objections he has not the least To come in at the death, and make one at the feast. Now before they set out, just by way of a lunch, Of bread and of buffalo each takes a hunch; With strong bottled stout of Dame Lion's own brewing, From wild roots extracted, by boiling or stewing.