inted in all that she said,
And the threats of the _Elder_ were heard to abound--
Like pellets from popguns they rattled around.
Discontented and moody the _Drooping Larch_ lower'd,
The _Crab_ knit his brows, for his temper was sour'd;
While the _Birch_-tree declared that the ill-fated elves,
Their opponents, were making a rod for themselves.
With wrath and vexation the _Maple_ ran o'er;
The _Aspen_-tree trembled, the _Willow_ wept sore;
The _Tulip_-tree blush'd, and the _Sumach_-tree sigh'd,
And the _Dyer's Oak_ thought it a stain on their pride.
The _Fir_ stood erect, for he seem'd to opine
That their sun for a very brief season would shine;
While the well-meaning _Walnut_, foreboding their fall,
Crack'd a joke, for he cared not a fig for them all.
The _Poplar_ drew up with a feeling of scorn,
And the _Cypress_ looked sad, and the _Yew_ was forlorn.
The _Plane_ smoothly spoke, and the _Hazel_ the same,
But the _Scarlet Oak_ redden'd with anger and shame.
At last they resolved, to blot out the disgrace,
To stand fast by each other adorning the place;
No longer their loss of applause to bemoan,
But to come out next spring with a Fair of their own.

While the war-whoop was raised by the _Birds_ and the _Trees_,
The _Beasts_ were impatient to blow up a breeze.
The _Lion_ began with a royal bewail,
And furiously lash'd both his sides with his tail.
As he stalk'd through his den, his wild eyes glared around,
And his roar seem'd to come from far under the ground.
His anger, disdain, and despair wanted scope,
So he wish'd himself back at the Cape of Good Hope.
The _Tiger_ extended, in uttering a roar,
A mouth that you might have mistook for the door;
But in such a dilemma, I warn you, beware
How you enter in haste such a dark thoroughfare;
For all who have pass'd through the passage they say,
Have terribly painted their coats by the way.
Poor _Bruin_ declared it was unbearable quite,
And was in a brown study till day turn'd to night;
The _Axis_ turn'd round in his rage, and just then
The _Sloth_ look'd as black as the ink in my pen.
The soft, silky, self-colour'd _Puma_ felt pain,
Pale as ashes with anger he could not restrain;
The _Llama_ indignantly felt the disgrace,
And spirted saliva in every one's face;
In fury the _Mastiff_ bark'd loud for relief;
The poor patient _Camel_ was laden with grief;
The _Antelope_ wisel