Aeroplanes | Page 2

them thus,
Remember,
pray, 'tis _death_ to us!"
MORAL.
From hence this moral may be learn'd:
Let play _be play_ to _all
concern'd_.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE COCK AND THE JEWEL.
A cock there was: a sage was he
(If Esop we may trust,)
Who
wish'd to make a meal, you see,
As other sages must.
With this intent, as heretofore,
When on the hunt for grain;
Our
hero scratch'd the litter o'er
With all his might and main.
But scarce a minute had he scratch'd,
When, to his great surprise,
A
gem, with golden chain attach'd,
He saw with both his eyes.
"Alack!" quoth he, "what have we here?
A diamond, I protest!

Which lords and ladies buy so dear,
And hold in such request.
"But one good barley-corn to me
Has more intrinsic worth
Than all
the pearls now in the sea,
Or gold now in the earth."
MORAL.
The moral here, in Esop's mind,
Was this, there's not a doubt:

Things have _most_ value, which we find
We _cannot_ do without.
[Illustration]

THE MAN AND THE LION.
A man and a lion once had a dispute,
Which was reckon'd the greatest,
the man or the brute;
The lion discoursed on his side at some length,

And greatly enlarged on his courage and strength.
The man, one would think, had enough to reply
On _his_ side the
question, which none could deny;
But like many others who make a
pretence,
He talk'd perfect nonsense, and thought it good sense.
"So," says he, "don't be prating,--look yonder, I pray,
At that
sculpture of marble, now what will you say?
The lion is vanquished;
but as for the man
He is striding upon him; deny it who can."
"But pray," said the lion, "who sculptured that stone?"
"One of _us_,"
said the man, "I must candidly own."
"But when _we_ are sculptors,"
the other replied,
"You will then on the man see the _lion_ astride."
MORAL.
The man might have added, if he had been wise,
"But a beast
_cannot_ sculpture a stone, _if he tries_."
_That_ sufficiently shows
where the difference lies.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE FOX AND THE CRANE.
"I certainly think," said a fox to a crane,
"That face, ma'am of yours is
remarkably plain;
That beak that you wear is so frightful a feature,

It makes you appear a most singular creature."
The crane, much
offended at what she had heard,
March'd off at full speed, without
saying a word:
"Oh dear!" said the fox, "Mrs. Crane, I protest
You
misunderstand me, 'twas only a jest."
"Come, don't be affronted--stay

with me and dine;
You know very well 'tis this temper of mine
To
say such odd things to my intimate friends;
But you know that poor
Reynard no mischief intends."
So the crane thought it best not to
break with him quite,
But to view his remarks in a good-natured light.

So she put on as pleasant a face as she could
When he ask'd her to
dine, and replied that she would.
But alas! she perceived that his
jokes were not over,
When Reynard removed from the victuals its
cover
'Twas neither game, butcher's meat, chicken, not fish;
But
plain gravy-soup, in a broad shallow dish.
Now this the fox lapp'd
with his tongue very quick,
While the crane could scarce dip in the
point of her beak;
"You make a poor dinner," said he to his guest;

"Oh, dear! by no means," said the bird, "I protest."
But the crane
ask'd the fox on a subsequent day,
When nothing, it seems, for their
dinner had they
But some minced meat served up in a narrow-neck'd
jar;
Too long, and narrow, for Reynard by far.
"You make a poor
dinner, I fear," said the bird;
"Why, I think," said the fox, "'twould be
very absurd
To deny what you say, yet I cannot complain,
But
confess, though a fox, that I'm matched by a crane."
MORAL.
Cunning folks who play tricks which good manners condemn,
Often
find their own tricks play'd again upon them.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE TRAVELLER AND THE SATYR.
A luckless wight, in winter slow,
Travelling once a forest through

Cold and hungry, tired and wet,
Began in words like these to fret:

"Oh, what a sharp inclement day!
And what a dismal, dreary way!

No friendly cot, no cheering fields,
No food this howling forest yields;

I've nought in store or expectation!
There's nought before me but

starvation."
"Not quite so bad," a voice replied;
Quickly the traveller turned aside,

And saw the satyr of the wood,
Who close beside his dwelling
stood.
"Here is my cave hard by," said he,
"Walk in, you're
welcome, pray be free."
The traveller did not hesitate,
Hoping for something good to eat,

But follow'd to his heart's content,
Blowing his finger as he went.
"Pray," said the satyr, "may I know
For what you blow your fingers
so?"
"What! need you," said the man, "be told?--
To _warm_ my fingers,
'numb'd with cold."
"Indeed!" was all his host replied,
Intent some pottage to provide,

Which heated well, with spice infused,
Was to his shivering guest
produced:
So hot it was, as Esop sung,
It made our traveller scald his tongue;

And wishing not again to do it,
Our hero could not wait, but blew it.
"What?" said his host, in