In a menagerie a Swan and Goose Lived like sworn friends, in peace and amity. This one was meant to please the master's eye, The other fitted for his palate's use: This for the garden, that one for the board. The château's fosse was their long corridor, Where they could swim, in sight of their liege lord, Splash, drink, and paddle, or fly o'er and o'er, Unwearied of their pastime, down the moat. One day the Cook, taking a cup too much, Mistook the birds, and, seizing by the throat, Was just about to kill--his blindness such-- The helpless Swan, and thrust him in the pot. The bird began to sing his dying song: The Cook, in great surprise, Opened his sleepy eyes. "What do I do?" he said; "I had forgot: No, no, Jove willing! may my neck be strung, Before I kill a bird that sings so well." Thus, in the dangers that around us throng, Soft words are often useful, as it here befell. FABLE LXIII. THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID. The She-Goat going out to feed Upon the young grass in the mead, Closed not the latch until she bid Her youngest born, her darling kid, Take care to open door to none, Or if she did, only to one Who gave the watchword of the place-- "Curse to the Wolf and all his race!" The Wolf was just then passing by, And having no bad memory, Laid the spell by, a perfect treasure Ready to be used at leisure. The Kid, so tender and so small, Had never seen a wolf at all. The mother gone, the hypocrite Assumes a voice demure and fit-- "The Wolf be cursed! come, pull the latch." The Kid says, peeping through a chink, "Show me a white foot" (silly patch), "Or I'll not open yet the door, I think." White paws are rare with wolves--not yet in fashion. The Wolf surprised, and dumb with secret passion, Went as he came, and sneaked back to his lair: The Kid had lost her life without that care, Had she but listened to the word The watchful Wolf had overheard. Two sureties are twice as good as one, Without them she had been undone. And so I boldly say, That too much caution's never thrown away. FABLE LXIV. THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND THE CHILD. This Wolf recalls another to my mind-- A friend who found Fate more unkind-- Caught in a neater way, you'll see; He perished--here's the history: A peasant dwelt in a lone farm; The Wolf, his watch intent to keep, Saw in and out, not tearing harm, Slim calves and lambs, and old fat sheep, And regiment of turkeys strutting out; In fact, good fare was spread about. [Illustration: THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND THE CHILD.]