258 The Poets Beasts. 



Forgiveness begged that he appeared 

 ('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard. 

 'Tis true, he was not much inclined 

 To fondness of the female kind, 

 For he had made a holy vow 

 Of chastity, as monks do now." 



Moreover, there is a popular superstition that no he-goat 

 ever remains in sight for twenty-four consecutive hours. 

 For just as every Grimalkin has to be a cat for eight of her 

 lives and a witch for one, so, they darkly hint, the goat has 

 to go once a day to the Devil to have his beard combed. 



In the practical household the appendage had its use as 

 a cider-strainer. Thus the Poet of the Apple advises — 



" With timely care 

 To shave the goat's shaggy beard, lest thou too late 

 In vain should'st seek a strainer to dispart. 

 The husky terrene dregs from purer must." 



When the Bachelor disguises himself to deceive the Don, 

 he ties on to his face a beard which the innkeeper's wife 

 angrily despoils him of, it being her strainer. 



But the poets have very skilfully utilised both aspects. 

 As the beard promiscuous or general it claims for the animal 

 a uniform picturesqueness ; as the beard particular — caprine 

 • — it gives the poet an easy simile. 



Next to their beards, the sure-footedness of this daring 

 mountaineer that — 



"Mid the cliffs with steady footstep climbs," 



attracts poetical regard, and certainly not without cause. 

 For the amazing confidence of this animal is certainly 

 among the chief marvels of Nature. Caution in movins; and 

 deliberateness in setting down the foot on a new spot are 

 characteristics of nearly all wild things, whether furred or 

 feathered. Even cats look carefully before they leap. 

 Birds flutter before settling on an untried perch. But goats 



