THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT

The Grasshopper, so blithe and gay, Sang the summer time away. Pinched and poor the spendthrift grew, When the sour north-easter blew. In her larder not a scrap, Bread to taste, nor drink to lap. To the Ant, her neighbour, she Went to moan her penury, Praying for a loan of wheat, Just to make a loaf to eat, Till the sunshine came again. "All I say is fair and plain, I will pay you every grain, Principal and interest too, Before harvest, I tell you, On my honour—every pound, Ere a single sheaf is bound." The Ant's a very prudent friend, Never much disposed to lend; Virtues great and failings small, This her failing least of all. Quoth she, "How spent you the summer?" "Night and day, to each new comer I sang gaily, by your leave; Singing, singing, morn and eve." "You sang? I see it at a glance. Well, then, now's the time to dance."

THE RAVEN AND THE FOX

Master Raven, perched upon a tree, Held in his beak a savoury piece of cheese; Its pleasant odour, borne upon the breeze, Allured Sir Reynard, with his flattery. "Ha! Master Raven, 'morrow to you, sir; How black and glossy! now, upon my word, I never—beautiful! I do aver. If but your voice becomes your coat, no bird More fit to be the Phœnix of our wood— I hope, sir, I am understood?" The Raven, flattered by the praise, Opened his spacious beak, to show his ways Of singing: down the good cheese fell. Quick the Fox snapped it. "My dear sir, 'tis well," He said. "Know that a flatterer lives On him to whom his praise he gives; And, my dear neighbour, an' you please, This lesson's worth a slice of cheese."— The Raven, vexed at his consenting, Flew off, too late in his repenting.