LESSONS FOR THE LITERATI. 561 



" Perhaps this switch may do her good." 



Slash slash ! the beast seem'd made of wood. 



" I'm half afraid she'll try a fall, 



Or she's knock'd up perhaps, that's all." 



Again he spurr'd the curb he drew 



When, on a sudden, up she flew 



Kick'd right and left curvetted rear'd 



And, as the traveller had fear'd, 



Finding his legs grasp'd tightly round, 



She tumbled with him to the ground. 



" You beast," the man was heard to say, 



As groaning on the earth he lay, 



" You who went on so well at first 



Die of the glanders and be curs'd !" 



I'd never trust a mule not I 

 That starts at once so friskily, 

 And when I see an author, in 

 A lofty-sounding style, begin, 

 " Softly, good man ! take care," I say, 

 " Look to your paces all the way, 

 Or, like the mule, you may be found 

 At no great distance on the ground." 



THE BEE AND THE CUCKOO. 



A CUCKOO, near a hive, one day 

 Was chanting in his usual way, 

 When to the door the queen-bee ran, 

 And, humming angrily, began : 

 " Do cease that tuneless song I hear 

 How can we work while thou art near ? 

 There is no other bird, I vow, 

 Half so fantastical as thou, 

 Since all that ugly voice can do 

 Is to sing on, cuckoo ! cuckoo !" 



" If my monotony of song 

 Displeases you, shall I be wrong, ' 

 The cuckoo answer'd " if I find 

 Your comb as little to my mind ? 

 Look at your cells through ev'ry one 

 Does not unvaried sameness run ? 

 Then if in me there's nothing new, 

 God knows, all's old enough in you !" 



The bee replied " Hear me, my friend 

 In works that have an useful end 

 It is not always worth the while 

 To seek variety in style ; 

 But if those works whose only views 

 Are to give pleasure and amuse, 

 Want either fancy or invention, 

 They fail of gaining their intention. 



