Favourite Fables in Prose and Verse | Page 9

Mouse had, with much pushing
application, made his way through a small hole in a corn-basket, where
he stuffed and crammed so plentifully, that, when he would have retired
the way he came, he found himself too plump, with all his endeavours,
to accomplish it. A Weasel, who stood at some distance, and had been
diverting himself with beholding the vain efforts of the little fat thing,
called to him, and said,
"Harkee, honest friend; if you have a mind to
make your escape, there is but one way for it: contrive to grow as poor
and lean as you were when you entered, and then, perhaps, you may get
off."
MORAL.
If evil habits have got a man into difficulties, there is no surer way to
extricate himself than, by God's help, to cast those habits off.
FABLE XXVIII.
THE OLD HOUND.
An old Hound, who had been an excellent good one in his time, and
given his master great sport and satisfaction in many a chase, at last, by
the effect of years, became feeble and unserviceable.
However, being in the field one day when the Stag was almost run
down, he happened to be the first that came in with him, and seized him
by one of his haunches; but his decayed and broken teeth not being able
to keep their hold, the deer escaped and threw him quite out. Upon
which his master, being in a great passion, and going to strike him, the
honest old creature is said to have barked out this apology. "Ah! do not
strike your poor old servant; it is not my heart and inclination, but my
strength and speed that fail me. If what I now am displeases you, pray
don't forget what I have been."

MORAL.
Past services should never be forgotten.
FABLE XXIX.
THE CHARGER AND THE ASS
The Horse, adorned with his great war-saddle, and champing his
foaming bridle, came thundering along the way, and made the
mountains echo with his loud, shrill neighing. He had not gone far
before he overtook an Ass, who was labouring under a heavy burthen,
and moving slowly on in the same track with himself. Immediately he
called out to him, in a haughty, imperious tone, and threatened to
trample him in the dirt, if he did not make way for him. The poor,
patient Ass, not daring to dispute the matter, quietly got out of his way
as fast as he could, and let him go by. Not long after this, the same
Horse, in an engagement with the enemy, happened to be shot in the
eye, which made him unfit for show or any military business; so he was
stript of his fine ornaments, and sold to a carrier. The Ass, meeting him
in this forlorn condition, thought that now it was his time to speak; and
so, says he, "Heyday, friend, is it you? Well, I always believed that
pride of yours would one day have a fall."
MORAL.
Pride and haughtiness are foreign to really great men. Those who show
it, when in their high estate, if the wheel of fortune should change,
instead of friendship or pity, will meet with nothing but contempt.
[Illustration: THE CHARGER AND THE ASS.]
FABLE XXX.
THE COLT AND THE FARMER.
A COLT, for blood and mettled speed,
The choicest of the running
breed,
Of youthful strength and beauty vain,
Refused subjection to

the rein.
In vain the groom's officious skill
Opposed his pride, and checked his
will;
In vain the master's forming care
Restrained with threats, or
soothed with prayer:
Of freedom proud, and scorning man,
Wild
o'er the spacious plain he ran.
Where'er luxuriant Nature spread
Her flowery carpet o'er the mead,

Or bubbling stream's soft gliding pass
To cool and freshen up the
grass,
Disdaining bounds, he cropped the blade,
And wantoned in
the spoil he made.
In plenty thus the summer passed;
Revolving winter came at last:

The trees no more a shelter yield;
The verdure withers from the field:

Perpetual snows invest the ground;
In icy chains the streams are
bound:
Cold, nipping winds, and rattling hail,
His lank, unsheltered
sides assail.
As round he cast his rueful eyes,
He saw the thatched-roof cottage
rise:
The prospect touched his heart with cheer,
And promised kind
deliverance near.
A stable, erst his scorn and hate,
Was now
become his wished retreat;
His passion cool, his pride forgot,
A
Farmer's welcome yard he sought.
The master saw his woful plight,
His limbs, that tottered with his
weight,
And, friendly, to the stable led,
And saw him littered,
dressed, and fed.
In slothful ease all night he lay;
The servants rose
at break of day;
The market calls. Along the road
His back must
bear the pond'rous load;
In vain he struggles or complains,
Incessant blows reward his pains.

To-morrow varies but his toil:
Chained to the plough, he breaks the
soil;
While scanty meals at night repay
The painful labours of the
day.

Subdued by toil, with anguish rent,
His self-upbraidings found