Volume I Part 43 (1/2)

”I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.

”There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin; And if you like to rest a while, I'll snugly tuck you in!”

”Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, ”for I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, ”Dear friend, what can I do To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have, within my pantry, good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome--will you please to take a slice?”

”Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, ”kind sir, that cannot be, I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!”

”Sweet creature,” said the Spider, ”you're witty and you're wise; How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!

I have a little looking-gla.s.s upon my parlor shelf; If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.”

”I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, ”for what you're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.”

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly would soon be back again; So he wove a subtle web in a little corner sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the Fly.

Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,-- ”Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead.”

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by: With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,-- Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue; Thinking only of her crested head--poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den Within his little parlor--but she ne'er came out again!

And now, dear little children, who may this story read, To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed; Unto an evil counsellor close heart, and ear, and eye, And take a lesson from this tale of the Spider and the Fly.

Mary Howitt [1799-1888]

THE CAPTAIN'S DAUGHTER

We were crowded in the cabin, Not a soul would dare to sleep,-- It was midnight on the waters, And a storm was on the deep.

'Tis a fearful thing in winter To be shattered by the blast, And to hear the rattling trumpet Thunder, ”Cut away the mast!”

So we shuddered there in silence,-- For the stoutest held his breath, While the hungry sea was roaring And the breakers talked with death.

As thus we sat in darkness, Each one busy with his prayers, ”We are lost!” the captain shouted, As he staggered down the stairs.

But his little daughter whispered, As she took his icy hand, ”Isn't G.o.d upon the ocean, Just the same as on the land?”

Then we kissed the little maiden, And we spake in better cheer, And we anch.o.r.ed safe in harbor When the morn was s.h.i.+ning clear.

James Thomas Fields [1816-1881]

THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM

A nightingale, that all day long Had cheered the village with his song, Nor yet at eve his note suspended, Nor yet when eventide was ended, Began to feel, as well he might, The keen demands of appet.i.te; When, looking eagerly around, He spied far off, upon the ground, A something s.h.i.+ning in the dark, And knew the glow-worm by his spark; So, stooping down from hawthorn top, He thought to put him in his crop.

The worm, aware of his intent, Harangued him thus, right eloquent: ”Did you admire my lamp,” quoth he, ”As much as I your minstrelsy, You would abhor to do me wrong, As much as I to spoil your song; For 'twas the self-same Power Divine Taught you to sing, and me to s.h.i.+ne; That you with music, I with light, Might beautify and cheer the night.”

The songster heard his short oration, And warbling out his approbation, Released him, as my story tells, And found a supper somewhere else.

Hence jarring sectaries may learn Their real interest to discern; That brother should not war with brother, And worry and devour each other; But sing and s.h.i.+ne by sweet consent, Till life's poor transient night is spent, Respecting in each other's case The gifts of nature and of grace.

Those Christians best deserve the name Who studiously make peace their aim; Peace both the duty and the prize Of him that creeps and him that flies.

William Cowper [1731-1808]