And thus disguised, he came, pit-pat, And softly stole where fast asleep Guillot himself lay by a stack, His dog close cuddling at his back; His pipe too slept; and half the number Of the plump sheep was wrapped in slumber. He's got the dress--could he but mock The Shepherd's voice, he'd lure the flock: He thought he could. That spoiled the whole affair--he'd spoken; His howl re-echoed through the wood. The game was up--the spell was broken! They all awake, dog, Shepherd, sheep. Poor Wolf, in this distress And pretty mess, In clumsy coat bedight, Could neither run away nor fight. At last the bubble breaks; There's always some mistake a rascal makes. The Wolf like Wolf must always act; That is a very certain fact. FABLE XVIII. THE CHILD AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. This fable serves to tell, or tries to show A fools remonstrance often is in vain. A child fell headlong in the river's flow, While playing on the green banks of the Seine: A willow, by kind Providence, grew there, The branches saved him (rather, God's good care); Caught in the friendly boughs, he clutched and clung. The master of the school just then came by. "Help! help! I'm drowning!" as he gulping hung, He shouts. The master, with a pompous eye, Turns and reproves him with much gravity. "You little ape," he said, "now only see What comes of all your precious foolery; A pretty job such little rogues to guard. Unlucky parents who must watch and thrash. Such helpless, hopeless, good-for-nothing trash. I pity them; their woes I understand." Having said this, he brought the child to land. In this I blame more people than you guess-- Babblers and censors, pedants, all the three; Such creatures grow in numbers to excess, Some blessing seems to swell their progeny. In every crisis theories they shape, And exercise their tongues with perfect skill; Ha! my good friends, first save me from the scrape, Then make your long speech after, if you will. FABLE XIX. THE PULLET AND THE PEARL. A Fowl, while scratching in the straw, Finding a pearl without a flaw, Gave it a lapidary of the day. "It's very fine, I must repeat; And yet a single grain of wheat Is very much more in my way." A poor uneducated lad A manuscript as heirloom had. He took it to a bookseller one day: "I know," said he, "it's very rare; But still, a guinea as my share Is very much more in my way." FABLE XX. THE DRONES AND THE BEES.