I fear that you, as king, will not
      Consider duly who or what: 
    Adieu, my young, if you should meet them!”
  “Describe them, then, and I’ll not eat them,”
  The Eagle said.  The Owl replied: 
  “My little ones, I say with pride,
  For grace of form cannot be match’d—­
  The prettiest birds that e’er were hatch’d;
  By this you cannot fail to know them;
  ’Tis needless, therefore, that I show them.” 
  At length God gives the Owl some heirs,
  And while at early eve abroad he fares,
    In quest of birds and mice for food,
    Our Eagle haply spies the brood,
    As on some craggy rock they sprawl,
    Or nestle in some ruined wall,
    (But which it matters not at all,)
    And thinks them ugly little frights,
    Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. 
  “These chicks,” says he, “with looks almost infernal,
  Can’t be the darlings of our friend nocturnal. 
  I’ll sup of them.”  And so he did, not slightly: 
  He never sups, if he can help it, lightly. 
    The Owl return’d; and, sad, he found
    Nought left but claws upon the ground. 
  He pray’d the gods above and gods below
  To smite the brigand who had caused his woe. 
  Quoth one, “On you alone the blame must fall;
  Thinking your like the loveliest of all,
  You told the Eagle of your young ones’ graces;
    You gave the picture of their faces: 
    Had it of likeness any traces?”

  The Earthen Pot and the Iron Pot

  An Iron Pot proposed
    To an Earthen Pot a journey. 
  The latter was opposed,
    Expressing the concern he
  Had felt about the danger
  Of going out a ranger. 
  He thought the kitchen hearth
  The safest place on earth
  For one so very brittle. 
  “For thee, who art a kettle,
  And hast a tougher skin,
  There’s nought to keep thee in.” 
  “I’ll be thy bodyguard,”
    Replied the Iron Pot;
  “If anything that’s hard
    Should threaten thee a jot,
  Between you I will go,
  And save thee from the blow.” 
    This offer him persuaded. 
    The Iron Pot paraded
    Himself as guard and guide
    Close at his cousin’s side. 
    Now, in their tripod way,
    They hobble as they may;
    And eke together bolt
    At every little jolt—­
    Which gives the crockery pain;
      But presently his comrade hits
      So hard, he dashes him to bits,
    Before he can complain.

  Take care that you associate
  With equals only, lest your fate
  Between these pots should find its mate.

  The Wolf and the Lean Dog

  A Troutling, some time since,
      Endeavoured vainly to convince
    A hungry fisherman
  Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. 
    The fisherman had reason good—­
    The troutling did the best he could—­
      Both argued for