Jove yields. The bargain closed, our man Rains, blows, and takes the care Of all the changes of the air, On his peculiar, private plan. His nearest neighbours felt it not, And all the better was their lot. Their year was good, by grace divine; The grain was rich, and full the vine. The renter, failing altogether, The next year made quite different weather; And yet the fruit of all his labours Was far inferior to his neighbours'. What better could he do? To Heaven He owns at last his want of sense, And so is graciously forgiven. Hence we conclude that Providence Knows better what we need Than we ourselves, indeed.
V.--THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.[7]
A youthful mouse, not up to trap, Had almost met a sad mishap. The story hear him thus relate, With great importance, to his mother:-- 'I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate, And off was trotting on another, Like some young rat with nought to do But see things wonderful and new, When two strange creatures came in view. The one was mild, benign, and gracious; The other, turbulent, rapacious, With voice terrific, shrill, and rough, And on his head a bit of stuff That look'd like raw and bloody meat, Raised up a sort of arms, and beat The air, as if he meant to fly, And bore his plumy tail on high.'
A cock, that just began to crow, As if some nondescript, From far New Holland shipp'd, Was what our mousling pictured so. 'He beat his arms,' said he, 'and raised his voice, And made so terrible a noise, That I, who, thanks to Heaven, may justly boast Myself as bold as any mouse, Scud off, (his voice would even scare a ghost!) And cursed himself and all his house; For, but for him, I should have staid, And doubtless an acquaintance made With her who seem'd so mild and good. Like us, in velvet cloak and hood, She wears a tail that's full of grace, A very sweet and humble face,-- No mouse more kindness could desire,-- And yet her eye is full of fire. I do believe the lovely creature A friend of rats and mice by nature. Her ears, though, like herself, they're bigger, Are just like ours in form and figure. To her I was approaching, when, Aloft on what appear'd his den, The other scream'd,--and off I fled.' 'My son,' his cautious mother said, 'That sweet one was the cat, The mortal foe of mouse and rat, Who seeks by smooth deceit, Her appetite to treat. So far the other is from that, We yet may eat His dainty meat; Whereas the cruel cat, Whene'er she can, devours No other meat than ours.'