Thrust in his head to taste, And felt the pinching of a trap-- The oyster closed in haste. We're first instructed, by this case, That those to whom the world is new Are wonder-struck at every view; And, in the second place, That the marauder finds his match, And he is caught who thinks to catch. [14] Abstemius; also Aesop. X.--THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER.[15] A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, By fate confined within a lonely wood, A new Bellerophon,[16] whose life, Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife,-- Became insane; for reason, as we term it, Dwells never long with any hermit. 'Tis good to mix in good society, Obeying rules of due propriety; And better yet to be alone; But both are ills when overdone. No animal had business where All grimly dwelt our hermit bear; Hence, bearish as he was, he grew Heart-sick, and long'd for something new. While he to sadness was addicted, An aged man, not far from there, Was by the same disease afflicted. A garden was his favourite care,-- Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, And eke Pomona's--ripe and red The presents that her fingers shed. These two employments, true, are sweet When made so by some friend discreet. The gardens, gaily as they look, Talk not, (except in this my book;) So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, Our man one morning left his home Some company to seek, That had the power to speak.-- The bear, with thoughts the same, Down from his mountain came; And in a solitary place, They met each other, face to face. It would have made the boldest tremble; What did our man? To play the Gascon The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, His fear contriving to dissemble. The bear, unused to compliment, Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, 'Come home with me.' The man replied: 'Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, In yonder garden you may spy, Where, if you'll honour me the while, We'll break our fast in rural style. I've fruits and milk,--unworthy fare, It may be, for a wealthy bear; But then I offer what I have.' The bear accepts, with visage grave, But not unpleased; and on their way, They grow familiar, friendly, gay. Arrived, you see them, side by side, As if their friendship had been tried. To a companion so absurd, Blank solitude were well preferr'd, Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, The man was left quite at his leisure To trim his garden at his pleasure. Sir Bruin hunted--always brought His friend whatever game he caught; But chiefly aim'd at driving flies-- Those hold and shameless parasites, That vex us with their ceaseless bites-- From off our gardener's face and eyes. One day, while, stretch'd upon the ground The old man lay, in sleep profound,