The ass, thine uncomplaining slave, drudging from morn to even; The lamb, and the timorous hare, and the labouring ox at plough; The speckled trout, basking in the shallow, and the partridge, gleaning in the stubble, And the stag at bay, and the worm in thy path, and the wild bird pining in captivity, And all things that minister alike to thy life and thy comfort and thy pride, Testify with one sad voice that man is a cruel master. Verily, they are all thine: freely mayst thou serve thee of them all: They are thine by gift for thy needs, to be used in all gratitude and kindness; Gratitude to their God and thine,--their Father and thy Father, Kindness to them who toil for thee, and help thee with their all: For meat, but not by wantonness of slaying: for burden, but with limits of humanity; For luxury, but not through torture; for draught, but according to the strength: For a dog cannot plead his own right, nor render a reason for exemption, Nor give a soft answer unto wrath, to turn aside the undeserved lash; The galled ox cannot complain, nor supplicate a moment's respite; The spent horse hideth his distress, till he panteth out his spirit at the goal; Also, in the winter of life, when worn by constant toil, If ingratitude forget his services, he cannot bring them to remembrance; Behold, he is faint with hunger; the big tear standeth in his eye; His skin is sore with stripes, and he tottereth beneath his burden; His limbs are stiff with age, his sinews have lost their vigour, And pain is stamped upon his face, while he wrestleth unequally with toil; Yet once more mutely and meekly endureth he the crushing blow; That struggle hath cracked his heart-strings,--the generous brute is dead! Liveth there no advocate for him? no judge to avenge his wrongs? No voice that shall be heard in his defence? no sentence to be passed on his oppressor? Yea, the sad eye of the tortured pleadeth pathetically for him; Yea, all the justice in heaven is roused in indignation at his woes; Yea, all the pity upon earth shall call down a curse upon the cruel; Yea, the burning malice of the wicked is their own exceeding punishment. The Angel of Mercy stoppeth not to comfort, but passeth by on the other side, And hath no tear to shed, when a cruel man is damned. OF FRIENDSHIP. [Illustration: "A"]