Besides the vanity of his deceitful art, He is the type of those who at chimeras gape, Forgetting danger's simpler shape, And troubles that before us and behind us start. [Illustration: THE HARE AND THE FROGS.] FABLE XXXII. THE HARE AND THE FROGS. One day sat dreaming in his form a Hare, (And what but dream could one do there?) With melancholy much perplexed (With grief this creature's often vexed). "People with nerves are to be pitied, And often with their dumps are twitted; Can't even eat, or take their pleasure; Ennui," he said, "torments their leisure. See how I live: afraid to sleep, My eyes all night I open keep. 'Alter your habits,' some one says; But Fear can never change its ways: In honest faith shrewd folks can spy, That men have fear as well as I." Thus the Hare reasoned; so he kept Watch day and night, and hardly slept; Doubtful he was, uneasy ever; A breath, a shadow, brought a fever. It was a melancholy creature, The veriest coward in all nature; A rustling leaf alarmed his soul, He fled towards his secret hole. Passing a pond, the Frogs leaped in, Scuttling away through thick and thin, To reach their dark asylums in the mud. "Oh! oh!" said he, "then I can make them scud As men make me; my presence scares Some people too! Why, they're afraid of Hares! I have alarmed the camp, you see. Whence comes this courage? Tremble when I come; I am a thunderbolt of war, may be; My footfall dreadful as a battle drum!" There's no poltroon, be sure, in any place, But he can find a poltroon still more base. FABLE XXXIII. THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG. Two Bulls were butting in rough battle, For the fair belle of all the cattle; A Frog, who saw them, shuddering sighed. "What ails you?" said a croaker by his side. "What? why, good gracious! don't you see The end of all this fight will be That one will soon be chased, and yield The empire of this flowery field; And driven from rich grass to feed, Searching the marsh for rush and reed, He'll trample many a back and head, And every time he moves we're dead. 'Tis very hard a heifer should occasion To us so cruel an invasion." There was good sense in the old croaker's fear, For soon the vanquished Bull came near: Treading with heedless, brutal power, He crushed some twenty every hour. The poor in every age are forced by Fate To expiate the follies of the great. [Illustration: THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO.] FABLE XXXIV. THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO.