Classic Poem

Who has never beheld when an old lady slips
On the pavement of wood, which her toe upward trips,
A dense crowd bustle round, quick as bees to a hive,
While in vain she, though fainting, for fresh air may strive?
Or when, at the close of a hot summer's day,
As the sun tints the lake with his bright crimson ray,
Who has never remarked how the fishes will rise
If you throw in some bread, while to seize on the prize
They will upset each other, and splutter about,
Till their heads and their tails from the river peep out?

So exactly it was at the time I am speaking,
Ev'ry one for himself is the best place out seeking,
Taking care a nice dish shall stand nearly before him,
With some fair one by side he would fain have adore him.

Now a passage to quote from an elegant Poet,
Whose name I can't tell, for I really don't know it;
It is not from Byron, or Chaucer, or Pope,
Or Milton, or Cowper, and I therefore must hope
You won't search through their writings to find it--
Let me see, is it Shakespeare's? no, 'tis n't his either;
Nor More's, Prior's, Dryden's--of theirs it is neither.
Where can I have read it? I cannot remember,
I might waste all my time from Spring to December,
In trying to think--so don't mind it.

But I've heard that you ought,
When you borrow a thought,
Just to mention the place whence you brought it.
Still, although this seems right,
'Tis not possible quite,
To kill even a flea till you've caught it.

The quotation I'd note
Was a fable one wrote,
As a means to convey information.
Like a sandwich, between
May a moral be seen,
Wrapped up in a pleasant narration.

Once the Lion invited to hunt and to dine,
And to taste a few skins of his favourite wine,
All his friends of the forest--who said they'd be there,
In the sports of the chase and the victuals to share;
Then the cunning fox scampered the country around,
Just to stop up the holes, and survey well the ground;
While the wolves have agreed to act dogs for the day,
And the jackall has orders to search out for prey.
There's his highness, Lord Camel, and Sir Grisly Bear,
With his tall Polish friend, who continues to wear
That long warm furry mantle, which looks just like snow,
And descends in short flakes till it wraps round each toe.
Majors Leopard and Tiger, just fresh from Bombay,
Of the proud native corps, have, undoubted, the sway,
Who would rather prefer to lie dead on the field
Than retreat from the foe, or the slightest point yield.
Count Panther and young Lord Hyena together
Are chatting, and making remarks on the weather;
The Count thinks it will rain, though at present 'tis clear;
While Lord Hyena laughs at the very idea.
The Grand Sultan Elephant cannot go out
To the hunt, as he has an attack of the gout;
But says of objections he has not the least
To come in at the death, and make one at the feast.
Now before they set out, just by way of a lunch,
Of bread and of buffalo each takes a hunch;
With strong bottled stout of Dame Lion's own brewing,
From wild roots extracted, by boiling or stewing.

"To the chase!" cried the king; "to the chase! to the chase!
Time is running along at a steam-engine pace;
Some hours will be left still for eating and drinking,
At the close of the day, when old Sol is a-sinking."
"Swift away, then, away! to the forest away!"
Exclaims each noble guest; "let us banish delay."
Mr. Jackall just then of some prey caught the scent,
And the wolves, too, appeared on some sport all intent;
So away they dash over the tall mountain's brow;
Tally-ho! tally-ho! they are in the chase now;
With roaring and yelling the woods are resounding,
O'er hedges and ditches like wild steeds they're bounding,
Through forests, through brushwood, through brambles, and brier,
No danger can daunt, no fatigue can them tire;
Till a beautiful deer lies defunct on the ground,
While the wolves are lip-smacking and howling around.
The next moment young Reynard aroused from its lair,
From just under their noses, a splendid large hare;
Who scampers away over two or more fields,
When his life to the fangs of his deadly foe yields.
Tally-ho! tally-ho! two fine bucks are now seen,
One has taken the water, the other the green.
In pursuit they divide--in a dish such a pair
Would for even a monarch be delicate fare.
Through the stream, o'er the glade, up the hill's rugged side,
Down the vale, o'er the plain, like Niagara's tide,
On, resistless, they roll; till their furious speed
Has o'ertaken their victims; and now they must bleed.
Like the torrent they fell, and quite spent on the ground,
Overthrown and downcast they expired with a bound.

Hunting thus they continued, till good old dame Eve
Tucked her sun up in bed, as a hint they should leave.
She's expecting a neighbour to call--Mistress Night;
So to make sure he's safe she has put out his light.

Then they give o'er the chase, and search out for the track
Which shall lead to the cave, while each wolf on his back
Swings a buck, or a fawn, or a bundle of hares,
And like light'ning back home to dame Lion repairs;
Who dissects the rich dainties, and spreads out the board,
And most anxiously waits the return of her lord.

Mr. Reynard had two or three visits to pay,
So he made an excuse from the party to stray.
Truly generous friends, those of his may be thought,
Did we judge from the geese, fowls, and ducks that he brought.
Still he feels much annoyed that he so long has tarried,
And lays all the fault on the birds that he carried.

They are seated at last; and like smoke disappear
The rich haunches of venison, and all the good cheer.
Yea, as swift as a lion runs after his prey,
The legs of the roebuck are cutting away
Down the throat of the monarch; in spite of his teeth,
They rush rapidly on just his large eyes beneath.

Then dame Lion brought forward some wine like champagne,
And--believe me--that no one was asked twice in vain:
Like a torrent it flowed through their mouths, while their eyes
Round are rolling with rapture, delight, and surprise.
"How delicious! enchanting! what capital stuff!
It has only one fault--that you can't drink enough
At a draught, for the fumes seem to fizz up one's nose,
And dispute with your breath for the passage like foes."
Thus spake the Count Panther; but, too busy to speak,
The rest nodded assent, and their glass again seek.
They ne'er had fall'n in with that liquor before,
And Fate had determined they never should more.
For drinking they sat, till so drunk, they're not able
To keep on their seats--so rolled under the table;
Where some Indians out early next morning them found,
Who with clubs dashed their brains out to manure the ground.
And, thus, ever since (to these animals' shame)
They made beasts of themselves,--Beast has been their name.

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