A hare, closely pursued, thought it prudent and meet
To a bramble for refuge awhile to retreat;
He enter'd the covert, but entering, found
That briers and thorns did on all sides abound;
And that, though he was safe, yet he never could stir,
But his sides they would wound, or would tear off his fur:
He shrugg'd up his shoulders, but would not complain:
"To repine at small evils," quoth puss, "is in vain:
That no bliss can be perfect, I very well knew--
But from the same source good and evil doth flow--
And full sorely my skin though these briers may rend,
Yet they keep off the dogs, and my life will defend:
For the sake of the good, then, let evil be borne--
For each sweet has its bitter, each bramble its thorn."
[Illustration]
[Illustration]