A Lion, sickly, weak, and full of years, Desired a remedy against old age (<i>Impossible</i>'s a word no monarch hears Without directly flying in a rage). He sent for doctors--men of draughts and pills; From far and near, obedient to the call, Came makers-up of recipes and pills: The Fox alone declined to come at all. At court the Wolf malignantly referred To Reynard's absence, whereupon the King-- Whose anger was aroused at what he heard--- Decided on a rather cruel thing. He sent a force to smoke sly Reynard out, And bring him, willy nilly. When he came, The Fox could scarcely entertain a doubt As to whose tongue had put him thus to shame. "I greatly fear, your Majesty," said he, "You think me rude; you wrong me, if you do: For I was on a pilgrimage, you see, And went to offer up my vows for <i>you.</i> I scarcely need inform you I have met Expert physicians whilst I was away, And hope to cure you of your sickness yet, Which comes from coldness of the blood, they say You must, sire, skin a Wolf, and wrap the skin About you close, to get the body warmed; And when the heat has kindled up within The fires of life again, the cure's performed. Our friend, I'm sure, will take immense delight In lending you his coat; so, take it, sire." The Lion supped upon the Wolf that night, And made the skin a part of his attire. [Illustration: THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX.] Courtiers, discretion is your safest plan: Malice is sure to find its source again; And, while you do yourself what good you can, Reflect that slandering others is in vain. FABLE CXLIV. THE HEAD AND THE TAIL OF THE SERPENT.