The Lion and The Fox

A LION , without fix'd abode,
Travers'd each path and winding road;
Knew ev'ry forest, ev'ry glen,
Avoiding all the haunts of men.
Fierce in his nature, tho' so mild,
Not anger'd, would not hurt a child,
Yet dreaded he to meet a man;
Knowing a contest once began,
Must rueful end, and fatal prove
To one that he aspir'd to love.
        "Man in a savage state," said he,
"Except in strength, is just like me.
"Should I o'ercome, 'twould be a curse;
"And to be overcome, still worse."

        With roving tir'd, he sought a cave:
He found one; then a friend would have.
But friendship, it is very rare
In cities, forests, ev'ry where.
Acquaintance then.--He spy'd a Fox.
Wolves make acquaintance with the flocks;
So surely Renard will be glad
To make acquaintance, good or bad.
Civil the greeting was, and so
At least 'twas friendship a propos .
        Things were settled in the cavern,
Snug as if it were a tavern.
And those who had not frequent seen
How oft ill luck will intervene,
Had sworn that Renard was a friend,
And that the compact ne'er would end:
But Renard let the Lion know,
It pleased him to be a foe;
Mischief his joy, and craft his trade,
Which he should follow undismay'd.

        The Lion, with resentment fraught,
Justly despis'd him, as he ought.
His angry glare, and lifted paw,
Drove him away with fear and awe.
But 'tis not greatness, nor contempt,
Can make the innocent exempt
From malice, which the wicked bear,
And keep to strike folks unaware.
        A shepherd, roving o'er the plain,
Observ'd the Fox. The thirst of gain
Excited him to lay a snare,
In which fell Renard, unaware.
This sight might Av'rice awaken,
Had it slept. "Ah ha! you're taken,"
Cries out triumphantly the clown;
"You'll not get off, for half-a-crown.
"As compensation must be made,
"Your skin will pay for 't, I'm afraid."
        Renard, quite ready to begin,
Cry'd--"Kill me then, and take my skin.

"But let it pray be understood,
" 'Tis not a thing will do much good.
"Were I a Lion, then indeed,
"With pleasure you might see me bleed."
        "A Lion!" cry'd the man, "d'ye say?
"We see not Lions every day:
"A Fox will please me pretty well;
"Where Lions are we cannot tell."
        "Sir," said the Fox, "if you are brave,
"I'll lead you to a Lion's cave."
        And to the Lion's cave he led,
When soon the noble beast lay dead.

MORAL.

Impertinence will sore annoy,
But cunning malice will destroy.

Original fables by a Lady

Printed by W. Calvert, Shire Lane, Lincoln's Inn, for B. Crosby and Co. London, 1810

To your Royal Highness the following Fables are dedicated, with a wish that in an interval of leisure some transient amusement may be obtained.