Against a robber fox, a tree Some turkeys served as citadel. That villain, much provoked to see Each standing there as sentinel, Cried out, 'Such witless birds At me stretch out their necks, and gobble! No, by the powers! I'll give them trouble.' He verified his words. The moon, that shined full on the oak, Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. But fox, in arts of siege well versed, Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. He feign'd himself about to climb; Walk'd on his hinder legs sublime; Then death most aptly counterfeited, And seem'd anon resuscitated. A practiser of wizard arts Could not have fill'd so many parts. In moonlight he contrived to raise His tail, and make it seem a blaze: And countless other tricks like that. Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. Their constant vigilance at length, As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. Bewilder'd by the rigs he run, They lost their balance one by one. As Renard slew, he laid aside, Till nearly half of them had died; Then proudly to his larder bore, And laid them up, an ample store. A foe, by being over-heeded, Has often in his plan succeeded. XIX.--THE APE. There is an ape in Paris, To which was given a wife: Like many a one that marries, This ape, in brutal strife, Soon beat her out of life. Their infant cries,--perhaps not fed,-- But cries, I ween, in vain; The father laughs: his wife is dead, And he has other loves again, Which he will also beat, I think,-- Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink. For aught that's good, you need not look Among the imitative tribe; A monkey be it, or what makes a book-- The worse, I deem--the aping scribe. XX.--THE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER.