Beware how you deride The exiles from life's sunny side: To you is little known How soon their case may be your own. On this, sage Aesop gives a tale or two, As in my verses I propose to do. A field in common share A partridge and a hare, And live in peaceful state, Till, woeful to relate! The hunters' mingled cry Compels the hare to fly. He hurries to his fort, And spoils almost the sport By faulting every hound That yelps upon the ground. At last his reeking heat Betrays his snug retreat. Old Tray, with philosophic nose, Snuffs carefully, and grows So certain, that he cries, 'The hare is here; bow wow!' And veteran Ranger now,-- The dog that never lies,-- 'The hare is gone,' replies. Alas! poor, wretched hare, Back comes he to his lair, To meet destruction there! The partridge, void of fear, Begins her friend to jeer:-- 'You bragg'd of being fleet; How serve you, now, your feet?' Scarce has she ceased to speak,-- The laugh yet in her beak,-- When comes her turn to die, From which she could not fly. She thought her wings, indeed, Enough for every need; But in her laugh and talk, Forgot the cruel hawk! XVIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.[21] The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease Their war, embraced in pledge of peace. On faith of king, on faith of owl, they swore That they would eat each other's chicks no more. 'But know you mine?' said Wisdom's bird.[22] 'Not I, indeed,' the eagle cried. 'The worse for that,' the owl replied: 'I fear your oath's a useless word; I fear that you, as king, will not Consider duly who or what: You kings and gods, of what's before ye, Are apt to make one category. Adieu, my young, if you should meet them!' 'Describe them, then, or let me greet them, And, on my life, I will not eat them,' The eagle said. The owl replied: 'My little ones, I say with pride, For grace of form cannot be match'd,-- The prettiest birds that e'er were hatch'd; By this you cannot fail to know them; 'Tis needless, therefore, that I show them. Pray don't forget, but keep this mark in view, Lest fate should curse my happy nest by you.' At length God gives the owl a set of heirs, And while at early eve abroad he fares, In quest of birds and mice for food, Our eagle haply spies the brood, As on some craggy rock they sprawl, Or nestle in some ruined wall, (But which it matters not at all,) And thinks them ugly little frights, Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. 'These chicks,' says he, 'with looks almost infernal, Can't be the darlings of our friend nocturnal.