From which we may conclude That peace with villains will be rued. Peace in itself, 'tis true, May be a good for you; But 'tis an evil, nathless, When enemies are faithless. [20] Aesop. XIV.--THE LION GROWN OLD.[21] A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane Of might once dreaded through his wild domain, Was mock'd, at last, upon his throne, By subjects of his own, Strong through his weakness grown. The horse his head saluted with a kick; The wolf snapp'd at his royal hide; The ox, too, gored him in the side; The unhappy lion, sad and sick, Could hardly growl, he was so weak. In uncomplaining, stoic pride, He waited for the hour of fate, Until the ass approach'd his gate; Whereat, 'This is too much,' he saith; 'I willingly would yield my breath; But, ah! thy kick is double death!' [21] Phaedrus, I. 21. XV.--PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.[22] From home and city spires, one day, The swallow Progne flew away, And sought the bosky dell Where sang poor Philomel.[23] 'My sister,' Progne said, 'how do you do? 'Tis now a thousand years since you Have been conceal'd from human view; I'm sure I have not seen your face Once since the times of Thrace. Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?' 'Where could I find,' said Philomel, 'so sweet?' 'What! sweet?' cried Progne--'sweet to waste Such tones on beasts devoid of taste, Or on some rustic, at the most! Should you by deserts be engross'd? Come, be the city's pride and boast. Besides, the woods remind of harms That Tereus in them did your charms.' 'Alas!' replied the bird of song, 'The thought of that so cruel wrong Makes me, from age to age, Prefer this hermitage; For nothing like the sight of men Can call up what I suffer'd then.' [22] Aesop. [23] _Progne and Philomel_.--Progne and Philomela, sisters, in mythology. Progne was Queen of Thrace, and was changed into a swallow. Her sister was changed into a nightingale; _vide_ Ovid, _Metamorphoses_. XVI.--THE WOMAN DROWNED.[24]