Part 32 (2/2)
Please G.o.d, I'll never set such dish on.
No, no; I'll never cut a throat That sings so pa.s.sing sweet a note.”
_'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, Sweet words will surely never harm us_.
The Hornets and the Bees
”The artist by his work is known.”
A piece of honey-comb, one day, Discovered as a waif and stray, The Hornets treated as their own.
Their t.i.tle did the Bees dispute, And brought before a Wasp the suit.
The judge was puzzled to decide, For nothing could be testified Save that around this honey-comb There had been seen, as if at home, Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, Much like the Bees in wings and features.
But what of that? for marks the same, The Hornets, too, could truly claim.
Between a.s.sertion and denial, The Wasp, in doubt, proclaimed new trial; And, hearing what an ant-hill swore, Could see no clearer than before.
”What use, I pray, of this expense?”
At last exclaim'd a Bee of sense.
”We've laboured months in this affair, And now are only where we were.
Meanwhile the honey runs to waste: 'Tis time the judge should show some haste.
Both sides have had sufficient bleeding, Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading.
Let's set to work, these drones and we, And then all eyes the truth may see, Whose art it is that can produce The magic cells, the nectar juice.”
The Hornets, flinching on their part, Show that the work transcends their art.
The Wasp at length their t.i.tle sees, And gives the honey to the Bees.
_Oh, would that suits at law with us Might every one be managed thus!_
The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg
Two Rats in foraging fell on an Egg-- For gentry such as they A genteel dinner every way; They needed not to find an ox's leg.
Brimful of joy and appet.i.te, They were about to sack the box, So tight without the aid of locks, When suddenly there came in sight A personage--Sir Slyboots Fox.
Sure, luck was never more untoward Since Fortune was a vixen froward!
How should they save their Egg--and bacon?
Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd.
Should it in forward paws be taken, Or roll'd along, or dragg'd?
Each method seem'd impossible, And each was then of danger full.
Necessity, ingenious mother, Brought forth what help'd them from their pother.
As still there was a chance to save their prey, The sponger yet some hundred yards away-- One seized the Egg, and turned upon his back, And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, The other dragg'd him by the tail.
Who dares the inference to blink, That beasts possess wherewith to think?
_Were I commission'd to bestow This power on creatures here below, The beasts should have as much of mind As infants of the human kind._
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