indignation, because his master was nigh, “A plague take thee," cries he, "for a fool! Sure, those who have neither strength nor weapons to fight at least should be civil." So saying, he went forward to the pond, quenched his thirst in spite of the Goose, and followed his master.

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 plains he ran.

Where'er luxuriant Nature spread

Her flowery carpet o'er the mead,
Or bubbling streams 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,

THE COLT AND THE FARMER.

Perpetual snows invest the ground,
In icy chains the fields are bound;
Cold nipping winds, and rattling hail,
His lank, unsheltered sides assail.
As round he cast his rueful eyes,

He saw the thatch-roofed cottage rise;
The prospect touched his heart with cheer,
And promised kind deliv'rance 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 woeful 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 servant 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-upbraiding found a vent.
Wretch that I am," he sighing said,

"By arrogance and folly led !

267

Had but my restive youth been brought
To learn the lesson Nature taught,
Then had I, like my sires of yore,

The prize from every courser bore.
Now lasting servitude's my lot,
My birth contemned, my speed forgot;
Doomed am I, for my pride, to bear
A living death from year to year."

THE WOLF IN DISGUISE.

A WOLF who, by frequent visits to a flock of sheep in his neighbourhood, began to be extremely well known to them, thought it expedient, for the more successful carrying on of his depredations, to appear in a new character. To this end he disguised himself in a shepherd's habit; and resting his fore feet upon a stick, which served him by way of crook, he softly made his approaches towards the fold. It happened that the Shepherd and his dog were both of them extended on the grass, fast asleep; so that he would certainly have succeeded in his project, if he had not imprudently attempted to imitate the Shepherd's voice. The horrid noise awakened them both, when the Wolf, encumbered with his disguise, and finding it impossible either to resist or to flee, yielded up his life an easy prey to the Shepherd's dog.