Part 12 (2/2)
While one stoop'd down to take the prey, The other push'd him quite away.
Said he, ”'Twere rather meet To settle which shall eat.
Why, he who first the oyster saw Should be its eater by the law; The other should but see him do it.”
Replied his mate, ”If thus you view it, Thank G.o.d the lucky eye is mine.”
”But I've an eye not worse than thine,”
The other cried, ”and will be cursed, If, too, I didn't see it first.”
”You saw it, did you? Grant it true, I saw it then, and felt it too.”
Amidst this sweet affair, Arrived a person very big, Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig.
They made him judge,--to set the matter square.
Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, Took up the oyster and the case: In opening both, the first he swallow'd, And, in due time, his judgment follow'd.
”Attend: the court awards you each a sh.e.l.l Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well.”
_Foot up the cost of suits at law,_ _The leavings reckon and awards,_ _The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw,_ _And leave the parties--purse and cards._
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OYSTER AND THE LITIGANTS.]
The Wolf and the Lean Dog.
A Troutling, some time since, Endeavour'd vainly to convince A hungry fisherman Of his unfitness for the frying-pan.
The fisherman had reason good-- The troutling did the best he could-- Both argued for their lives.
Now, if my present purpose thrives, I'll prop my former proposition By building on a small addition.
A certain wolf, in point of wit The prudent fisher's opposite, A dog once finding far astray, Prepared to take him as his prey.
The dog his leanness pled; ”Your lords.h.i.+p, sure,” he said, ”Cannot be very eager To eat a dog so meagre.
To wait a little do not grudge: The wedding of my master's only daughter Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter; And then, as you yourself can judge, I cannot help becoming fatter.”
The wolf, believing, waived the matter, And so, some days therefrom, Return'd with sole design to see If fat enough his dog might be.
The rogue was now at home: He saw the hunter through the fence.
”My friend,” said he, ”please wait; I'll be with you a moment hence, And fetch our porter of the gate.”
This porter was a dog immense, That left to wolves no future tense.
Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,-- It might not be so safely tamper'd.
”My service to your porter dog,”
Was his reply, as off he scamper'd.
His legs proved better than his head, And saved him life to learn his trade.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG.]
Nothing too Much.
Look where we will throughout creation, We look in vain for moderation.
The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, Green waving in the genial air, By overgrowth exhausts the soil; By superfluity of leaves Defrauds the treasure of its sheaves, And mocks the busy farmer's toil.
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