The veriest hermit in the nation May yield, all know, to strong temptation: Away they went, through thick and thin, To a tall house near Lincoln's Inn. The moonbeam fell upon the wall, And tipped with silver roof and all,-- Palladian walls, Venetian doors, Grotesco roofs and stucco floors; And, let it in one word be said, The moon was up--the men abed-- The guests withdrawn had left, though late, When down the mice sat _tête à tête_.
Our courtier walks from dish to dish, And tastes of flesh, and fowl, and fish; Tells all their names, lays down the law, "_Que ça est bon! Ah, goutez ça!_ That jelly's rich, this malmsey's healing, Pray dip your whiskers and your tail in!" Was ever such a happy swain-- He stuffs, and sips, and stuffs again!
"I'm quite ashamed--'tis mighty rude To eat so much--all is so good." But as he spoke, bounce from the hall Rushed chaplain, butler, dogs, and all. Oh! for the heart of Homer's mice Or gods, to save them in a trice; It was by miracle they think, For Roman stucco has no chink.
"But, please your honour," said the peasant, "This same dessert is not so pleasant: Give me again my hollow tree, A crust of bread, and liberty!"
_From the Tales of Bonaventura des Periers, Servant to Marguerite of Valois, Queen of Navarre. By HORACE LORD ORFORD._
How anxious is the pensive parents' thought, How blest the lot of fondlings, early taught; Joy strings her hours on pleasure's golden twine, And fancy forms it to an endless line. But ah! the charm must cease, or soon or late, When chicks and misses rise to woman's state; The little tyrant grows in turn a slave, And feels the soft anxiety she gave. This truth, my pretty friend, an ancient sage, Who wrote in tale and legend many a page, Couch'd in that age's unaffected guise, When fables were the wisdom of the wise. To careless notes I've tuned his Gothic style, Content, if you approve, and LAURA smile.
Once on a time a magpie led Her little family from home, To teach them how to win their bread, When she afar would roam: She pointed to each worm and fly, Inhabitants of earth and sky, Or where the beetle buzzed, she called; But indications all were vain,-- They would not budge--the urchin train, But cawed, and cried, and squalled; They wanted to return to nest, To nestle to mamma's warm breast, And thought that she should seek the meat Which they were only born to eat-- But Madge knew better things: "My loves," said she, "behold the plains, Where stores of food, where plenty reigns; I was not half so big as you, When me my honoured mother drew Forth to the groves and springs-- She flew away, before aright I knew to read or knew to write, Yet I made shift to live: So must you too--come, hop away-- Get what you can--steal what you may, For industry will thrive." "But, bless us!" cried the peevish chits, "Can babes like us live by our wits? With perils compassed round, can we Preserve our lives and liberty? Ah! how escape the fowler's snare, And gard'ner with his gun in air, Who, if we pilfer plums or pears, Will scatter lead about our ears? And you would drop a mournful head To see your little pies lie dead!" "My dears," she said, and kissed their bills, "The wise by foresight baffle ills, A wise descent you claim; To bang a gun off takes some time,-- A man must load, a man must prime, A man must take an aim-- He lifts the tube, he shuts one eye,-- 'Twill then be time enough to fly; You, out of reach, may laugh and chatter: To cheat a man is no great matter." "Ay, but"--"But what?" "Why, if the clown Should take a stone to knock us down?" "Why, if he do--you flats! Must he not stoop to raise the stone? The stooping warns you to be gone; Birds are not killed like cats." "But, dear mamma, we yet are scared, The rogue, you know, may come prepared A big stone in his fist!" "Indeed, my darlings," Madge replies, "If you already are so wise: Go, cater where you list."