he dame's maternal care,
And promised never to go near.
Yet still he burned to disobey,
And hovered round it day by day;
And communed thus: "I wonder why?
Does mother think my soul is shy?
Thinks me a coward? or does she
Store grain in yonder well from me?
I'll find that out, and so here goes."
So said, he flaps his wings and crows,
Mounted the margin, peered below,
Where to repel him rose a foe.
His choler rose, his plumes upreared--
With ruffled plumes the foe appeared.
Challenged to fight--he dashed him down
Upon the mirrored wave to drown;
And drowning uttered: "This condition
Comes from my mother's prohibition.
Did she forget, or not believe,
That I too am a son of Eve?"

FABLE XXI.

THE RATCATCHER AND CATS.

The rats by night the mischief did,
And Betty every morn was chid.
The cheese was nibbled, tarts were taken,
And purloined were the eggs and bacon;
And Betty cursed the cat, whose duty
Was to protect and guard the booty.
A ratcatcher, of well known skill,
Was called to kill or scotch the ill;
And, as an engineer, surveyed
Their haunts and laid an ambuscade.
A cat behold him, and was wrath,
Whilst she resolved to cross his path;
Not to be beaten by such chaps,
She silently removed his traps.
Again he set the traps and toils,
Again his cunning pussy foils.
He set a trap to catch the thief,
And pussy she got caught in brief.
"Ah!" said the rat-catcher, "you scamp,
You are the spy within the camp."
But the cat said, "A sister spare,
Your science is our mutual care."
"Science and cats!" the man replied;
"We soon that question shall decide;
You are my rival interloper,
A nasty, sneaking, crouching groper."

A sister tabby saw the cord,
And interposed a happy word:
"In every age and clime we see
Two of a trade cannot agree;
Each deems the other an encroacher,
As sportsman thinks another poacher.
Beauty with beauty vies in charms,
And king with king in warfare's arms:
But let us limit our desires,
Nor war like beauties, kings, and squires;
For though one prey we both pursue
There's prey enough for us and you."

FABLE XXII.

THE SHAVEN AND SHORN GOAT.

'Tis strange to see a new-launched fashion
Lay on the soul and grow a pa