Two Mules were journeying--one charged with oats, The other with a tax's golden fruit. This last betrayed that manner which denotes Excessive vanity in man or brute. Proudly self-conscious of his precious load, He paced, and loud his harness-bells resounded; When suddenly upon their lonely road, Both Mules and masters were by thieves surrounded. The money-bearer soon was put to death: "Is this the end that crowns my high career? Yon drudge," he murmured with his latest breath, "Escapes unhurt, while I must perish here!" "My friend," his fellow-traveller made reply, "Wealth cannot always at the poor man scoff. If you had been content to do as I, You'd not at present be so badly off."
A Wolf, who was but skin and bone, So watchful had the sheep-dogs grown, Once met a Mastiff fat and sleek, Stern only to the poor and weak. Sir Wolf would fain, no doubt, have munched This pampered cur, and on him lunched; But then the meal involved a fight, And he was craven, save at night; For such a dog could guard his throat As well as any dog of note.
So the Wolf, humbly flattering him, Praised the soft plumpness of each limb. "You're wrong, you're wrong, my noble sir, To roam in woods indeed you err," The dog replies, "you do indeed; If you but wish, with me you'll feed. Your comrades are a shabby pack, Gaunt, bony, lean in side and back, Pining for hunger, scurvy, hollow, Fighting for every scrap they swallow. Come, share my lot, and take your ease." "What must I do to earn it, please?" "Do?--why, do nothing! Beggar-men Bark at and chase; fawn now and then At friends; your master always flatter. Do this, and by this little matter Earn every sort of dainty dish-- Fowl-bones or pigeons'--what you wish-- Aye, better things; and with these messes, Fondlings, and ceaseless kind caresses." The Wolf, delighted, as he hears Is deeply moved--almost to tears; When all at once he sees a speck, A gall upon the Mastiff's neck. "What's that?"--"Oh, nothing!" "Nothing?"--"No!" "A slight rub from the chain, you know." "The chain!" replies the Wolf, aghast; "You are not free?--they tie you fast?" "Sometimes. But, law! what matters it?"-- "Matters so much, the rarest bit Seems worthless, bought at such a price." The Wolf, so saying, in a trice, Ran off, and with the best goodwill, And very likely's running still.