Some Beasts of Reproach. 1 1 3 



pedlar's guise and tempts little " Kiddie " to its doom, in 

 spite of his mother's warning words before she "yode forth 

 abroad unto the greene wood" Quoth she — 



" Many wilde beastes liggen in waite,' 

 For to entrap in thy tender state, 

 But most the foxe. maister of collusion, 

 For he has vowed thy last confusion. 

 Forthy, my Kiddie ; be rulde by me 

 And never give trust to his trecheree ; 

 And if he chaunce come when I am abroade, 

 Sperre the yate fast, for fear of fraude ; 

 Ne for all his worst, nor for his best 

 Open the dore at his request." 



But of course Kiddie does, and of course the false fox 

 " ranne away with him in all hast" 



But, as a rule, it is the rape of the hen that inflames 

 the poets to most indignant declamation, like Clare's — 



" Housewives discoursing 'bout their hens and cocks. 

 Spinning long stories, wearing half the day. 

 Sad deeds bewailing of the prowling fox. 

 How in the roost the thief had knaved his way, 

 And made their market profits all a prey." 



Yet it is not often that the poets attribute to the fox that 

 which in all other fabulists is its chief failing, namely, its 

 going about its larcenies by twilight. The Entre chien et 

 loup is " the great epical hour of the fox." It is the hour 

 of betrayals and perfidies, of doubts and mythical un- 

 certainties. 



Some score of poets sing the glorious chase, and for 

 downright brutality commend me to your fox-hunting 

 poet, Bioomfield emphatically excepted — and, of course, 

 Cowper. 



" The reeking roaring hero of the chase 

 I give him over as a desperate case ; 

 Physicians write in hopes to work a cure 

 Never, if honest ones, when death is sure ; 



H 



