_THE FOX AND THE CAT_
The fox and the cat, as they travell'd one day,
With moral discourses cut shorter the way:
''Tis great,' says the Fox, 'to make justice our guide!'
'How god-like is mercy!' Grimalkin replied.
Whilst thus they proceeded, a wolf from the wood,
Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood,
Rush'd forth--as he saw the dull shepherd asleep--
And seiz'd for his supper an innocent sheep.
'In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat,
When mutton's at hand,' says the wolf, 'I must eat.'
Grimalkin's astonish'd!--the fox stood aghast,
To see the fell beast at his bloody repast.
'What a wretch,' says the cat, ''tis the vilest of brutes;
Does he feed upon flesh when there's herbage and roots?'
Cries the fox, 'While our oaks give us acorns so good,
What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood!'
Well, onward they march'd, and they moraliz'd still,
Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill.
Sly Reynard survey'd them with gluttonous eyes,
And made, spite of morals, a pullet his prize.
A mouse, too, that chanc'd from her covert to stray,
The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey.
A spider that sat in her web on the wall,
Perceiv'd the poor victims, and pitied their fall;
She cried, 'Of such murders, how guiltless am I!'
So ran to regale on a new-taken fly.
_J. Cunningham_