Part 25 (1/2)

I starve, though stronger of the two.”

”It will be just as well with you,”

The Dog quite cool and frank replied, ”If with my master you'll abide.”

”For what?” ”Why merely to attend, And from night thieves the door defend.”

”I gladly will accept the post, What! shall I bear with snow and frost And all this rough inclement plight, Rather than have a home at night, And feed on plenty at my ease?”

”Come, then, with me” --the Wolf agrees.

But as they went the mark he found, Where the Dog's collar had been bound: ”What's this, my friend?” ”Why, nothing.”

”Nay, Be more explicit, sir, I pray.”

”I'm somewhat fierce and apt to bite, Therefore they hold me pretty tight, That in the day-time I may sleep, And night by night my vigils keep.

At evening tide they let me out, And then I freely walk about: Bread comes without a care of mine.

I from my master's table dine; The servants throw me many a sc.r.a.p, With choice of pot-liquor to lap; So, I've my bellyful, you find.”

”But can you go where you've a mind?”

”Not always, to be flat and plain.”

”Then, Dog, enjoy your post again, For to remain this servile thing, Old Isgrim would not be a king.”

VII. THE BROTHER AND SISTER.

Warn'd by our council, oft beware, And look into yourself with care.

There was a certain father had A homely girl and comely lad.

These being at their childish play Within their mother's room one day, A looking-gla.s.s was in the chair, And they beheld their faces there.

The boy grows prouder as he looks; The girl is in a rage, nor brooks Her boasting brother's jests and sneers, Affronted at each word she hears: Then to her father down she flies, And urges all she can devise Against the boy, who could presume To meddle in a lady's room.

At which, embracing each in turn, With most affectionate concern, ”My dears,” he says, ”ye may not pa.s.s A day without this useful gla.s.s; You, lest you spoil a pretty face, By doing things to your disgrace; You, by good conduct to correct Your form, and beautify defect.”

VIII. A SAYING OF SOCRATES.

Though common be the name of friend, Few can to faithfulness pretend, That Socrates (whose cruel case, I'd freely for his fame embrace, And living any envy bear To leave my character so fair) Was building of a little cot, When some one, standing on the spot, Ask'd, as the folks are apt to do, ”How comes so great a man as you Content with such a little hole?”-- ”I wish,” says he, ”with all my soul That this same little house I build Was with true friends completely fill'd.”

IX. OF DOUBT AND CREDULITY.

'Tis frequently of bad event To give or to withhold a.s.sent.

Two cases will th' affair explain-- The good Hippolytus was slain; In that his stepdame credit found, And Troy was levell'd with the ground; Because Ca.s.sandra's prescious care Sought, but obtain'd no credence there.

The facts should then be very strong, Lest the weak judge determine wrong: But that I may not make too free With fabulous antiquity, I now a curious tale shall tell, Which I myself remember well.

An honest man, that loved his wife, Was introducing into life A son upon the man's estate.

One day a servant (whom, of late, He with his freedom had endu'd) Took him aside, and being shrewd, Supposed that he might be his heir When he'd divulged the whole affair.

Much did he lie against the youth, But more against the matron's truth: And hinted that, which worst of all Was sure a lover's heart to gall, The visits of a l.u.s.ty rake, And honour of his house at stake.

He at this scandal taking heat, Pretends a journey to his seat; But stopp'd at hand, while it was light, Where, on a sudden, and by night, He to his wife's apartment sped, Where she had put the lad to bed, As watchful of his youthful bloom.

While now they're running to the room, And seek a light in haste, the sire, No longer stifling of his ire, Flies to the couch, where grouping round, A head, but newly shaved, he found; Then, as alone, he vengeance breath'd, The sword within his bosom sheath'd-- The candle ent'ring, when he spied The bleeding youth, and by his side The spotless dame, who being fast Asleep, knew nothing that had pa.s.s'd, Instant in utmost grief involved, He vengeance for himself resolved; And on that very weapon flew, Which his too cred'lous fury drew.

Th' accusers take the woman straight, And drag to the centumvirate; Th' ill-natured world directly built A strong suspicion of her guilts, As she th' estate was to enjoy-- The lawyers all their skill employ; And a great spirit those exert Who most her innocence a.s.sert.

The judges then to Caesar pray'd That he would lend his special aid; Who, as they acted upon oath, Declared themselves extremely loth To close this intricate affair-- He, taking then himself the chair, The clouds of calumny displaced.

And Truth up to her fountain traced.

”Let the freedman to vengeance go, The cause of all this scene of woe: For the poor widow, thus undone, Deprived of husband and of son, To pity has a greater plea Than condemnation, I decree-- But if the man, with caution due, Had rather blamed than listen'd to The vile accuser, and his lie Had strictly search'd with Reason's eye, This desp'rate guilt he had not known, Nor branch and root his house o'erthrown.”

Nor wholly scorn, nor yet attend Too much at what the tatlers vend, Because there's many a sad neglect.

Where you have little to suspect; And treach'rous persons will attaint Men, against whom there's no complaint.