He heard the camel snort so near
As almost maddened him with fear,
And crawled into the well, yet there
Fell not, but dangled in mid air;
For from the fissure in the stone,
Which lined the sides, a bush had grown
To this he clung with all his might,
From thence lamenting his sad plight:
He saw, what time he look'd on high,
The beast's head perilously nigh,
Ready to drag him back again.
He looked into the bottom then,
And there a dragon he espied,
Whose horrid jaws were yawning wide,
Agape to swallow him alive,
As soon as he should there arrive.
But as he hung two fears between,
A third by that poor wretch was seen;
For where the bush by which he clung
Had from the broken wall outsprung,
He saw two mice precisely there,
One black, one white, a stealthy pair;-
He saw the black one and the white
How at the root by turns they bite:
They gnaw, they pull, they dig, and still
The earth that held its fibres spill,
Which as it rustling downward ran,
The dragon to look up began,
Watching how soon the shrub and all
It carried would together fall.
The man in anguish, fear, despair,
Beleagured, threatened every where,
In state of miserable doubt
In vain for safety gazed about.
But as he looked around him so,
A twig he spied, and on it grow
Ripe berries from their laden stalk,
Then his desire he could not balk.
When these did once his eye engage,
He saw no more the camel's rage,
Nor dragon in the underground,
Nor game the busy mice had found.
The beast above might snort and blow,
The dragon watch his prey below,
The mice gnaw near him as they pleased,
The berries eagerly he seized;
They seemed to him right good to eat,
A pleasant mouthful, welcome treat!
They brought him such a keen delight,
His danger was forgotten quite.
But who is this vain man
Who thus forget his terror can?
Then know, Ŏ friend! that man art thou.
Listen, and I will tell you how:
The dragon in the well beneath,
That is the yawning gulph of death;
The camel threatening over head,
Is life's perplexity and dread.
'Tis thou who, life and death between,
Hangest on this world's sapling green;
And they who gnaw the root, the twain
Who their and thy support would fain
Deliver unto death a prey,
These names the mice have-Night and Day.
From morn to evening gnaws. the white,
And would the root unfasten quite :
From evening till the morn comes back,
In deepest stillness gnaws the black;
And yet, in midst of these alarms
The berry Pleasure has such charms,
That thou- -the camel of life's woe,
That thou-the dragon death below,
That thou-the two mice, Night and Day,
And all forgettest, save the way
To get most berries in thy power,
And on the grave's cleft side devour.
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Flitting about in each leafy tree;
In the leafy trees so broad and tall,
Like a green and beautiful palace hall,
With its airy chambers, light and boon,
That open to sun, and stars, and moon;
That open unto the bright blue sky,
And the frolicksome winds, as they wander by!
They have left their nests in the forest bough;
Those homes of delight they need not now;
And the young and old they wander out,
And traverse their green world round about;
And hark! at the top of this leafy hall,
How, one to the other, they lovingly call:—
"Come up, come up!" they seem to say,
"Where the topmost twigs in the breezes play!"
"Come up, come up, for the world is fair,
Where the merry leaves dance in the summer air!" And the birds below give back the cry,
"We come, we come to the branches high!" How pleasant the life of the birds must be,
Living in love in a leafy tree;
And away through the air what joy to go,
And to look on the green, bright earth below!
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Skimming about on the breezy sea,
Cresting the billows like silvery foam,
And then wheeling away to its cliff-built home!
What joy it must be to sail, upborne
By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn,
To meet the young sun, face to face,
And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless space!
How pleasant the life of a bird must be,
Wherever it listeth there to flee:
To go, when a joyful fancy calls,
Dashing adown 'mong the waterfalls
Then wheeling about, with its mates at play,
Above and below, and among the spray,
Hither and thither, with screams as wild
As the laughing mirth of a rosy child!
What a joy it must be, like a living breeze,
To flutter about 'mong the flowering trees;
Lightly to soar, and to see beneath
The wastes of the blossoming purple heath,
And the yellow furze, like fields of gold,
That gladden some fairy region old.
On mountain tops, on the billowy sea,
On the leafy stems of the forest tree,
How pleasant the life of a bird must be!
Beneath the hedge, or near the stream,
A worm is known to stray;
That shows by night a lucid beam,
Which disappears by day.
Disputes have been, and still prevail,
From whence his rays proceed;
Some give that honour to his tail,
And others to his head.
But this is sure— -the hand of night,
That kindles up the skies,
Gives him a modicum of light
Proportion'd to his size.
Perhaps indulgent Nature meant,
By such a lamp bestow'd,
To bid the trav'ller, as he went,
Be careful where he trod:
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light
Might serve, however small,
To show a stumbling-stone by night,
And save him from a fall.
Whate'er she meant, this truth divine
Is legible and plain,
'Tis pow'r almighty bids him shine,
Nor bids him shine in vain.
Ye proud and wealthy, let this theme
Teach humbler thoughts to you,
Since such a reptile has its gem
And boasts its splendour too.
THE HORNED OWL.
In the hollow tree, in the old grey tower,
The spectral owl doth dwell;
Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour,
But at dusk he's abroad and well.
Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him;
All mock him outright by day;
But at night, when the woods grow still and dim,
The boldest will shrink away.
O when the night falls, and roosts the fowl,
Then, then is the reign of the horned owl!
And the owl hath a bride who is fond and bold,
And loveth the wood's deep gloom;
And, with eyes like the shine of the moon-stone cold, She awaiteth her ghastly groom.
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