He turns about to face the loud uproar And drives the rebels to their very door. The frequent stone is hurled where eer they go; When badgers fight, then every one's a foe. The dogs are clapt and urged to join the fray; The badger turns and drives them all away. Though scarcely half as big, demure and small, He fights with dogs for bones and beats them all. The heavy mastiff, savage in the fray, Lies down and licks his feet and turns away. The bulldog knows his match and waxes cold, The badger grins and never leaves his hold. He drives the crowd and follows at their heels And bites them through--the drunkard swears and reels. The frighted women take the boys away, The blackguard laughs and hurries on the fray. He tries to reach the woods, an awkward race, But sticks and cudgels quickly stop the chace. He turns agen and drives the noisy crowd And beats the many dogs in noises loud. He drives away and beats them every one, And then they loose them all and set them on. He falls as dead and kicked by boys and men, Then starts and grins and drives the crowd agen; Till kicked and torn and beaten out he lies And leaves his hold and cackles, groans, and dies. _The Fox_ The shepherd on his journey heard when nigh His dog among the bushes barking high; The ploughman ran and gave a hearty shout, He found a weary fox and beat him out. The ploughman laughed and would have ploughed him in But the old shepherd took him for the skin. He lay upon the furrow stretched for dead, The old dog lay and licked the wounds that bled, The ploughman beat him till his ribs would crack, And then the shepherd slung him at his back; And when he rested, to his dog's surprise, The old fox started from his dead disguise; And while the dog lay panting in the sedge He up and snapt and bolted through the hedge. He scampered to the bushes far away; The shepherd called the ploughman to the fray; The ploughman wished he had a gun to shoot. The old dog barked and followed the pursuit. The shepherd threw his hook and tottered past; The ploughman ran but none could go so fast; The woodman threw his faggot from the way And ceased to chop and wondered at the fray. But when he saw the dog and heard the cry He threw his hatchet--but the fox was bye. The shepherd broke his hook and lost the skin; He found a badger hole and bolted in. They tried to dig, but, safe from danger's way, He lived to chase the hounds another day. _The Vixen_