THE HARE THE PARTRIDGE. One should not mock the wretched. Who can tell He will be always happy? Fortune changes, Wise Æsop, in his fables, taught this well. My story is like his--which very strange is, The Hare and Partridge shared the selfsame clover, And lived in peace and great tranquillity, Till one day, racing all the meadows over, The huntsmen came, and forced the Hare to flee, And seek his hiding-place. The dogs, put out, Were all astray: yes, even Brifaut erred, Until the scent betrayed. A lusty shout Arouses Miraut, who then loud averred, From philosophic reasoning, 'twas the Hare, And ardently pushed forward the pursuit. Rustaut, who never lied, saw clearly where Had homeward turned again the frightened brute. Poor wretch! it came to its old form to die. The cruel Partridge, bitter taunting, said, "You boasted of your fleetness; now, then, try Your nimble feet." Soon was that scorn repaid: While she still laughed, the recompense was near. She thought her wings would save her from man's jaws. Poor creature! there was worse than that to fear: The swooping Goshawk came with cruel claws. FABLE XCIX THE STAG AND THE VINE. A Stag behind a lofty Vine took shelter (Such vines are met with in a southern clime); Hunters and hounds pursued him helter-skelter, And searched and searched, but only lost their time. The huntsmen laid, as might have been expected, Upon the shoulders of their dogs the blame, The Stag, forgetting he had been protected, Vastly ungrateful all at once became; Upon the friendly Vine he made a dinner; But hounds and hunters soon came back again. [Illustration: THE STAG AND THE VINE.] Discovered quickly--now the leaves were thinner-- The Stag, of course, got set upon and slain. "I merit this!" exclaimed the dying glutton; "Ingratitude, like pride, must have a fall:" Another gasp, and he was dead as mutton; And no one present pitied him at all. How oft is hospitality rewarded By deeds ungrateful as the one recorded! FABLE C. THE LION GOING TO WAR.