no waking sleepest sound.
Thy body, fallen from the bough,
Crumbles; the questing ant has found thee now.

The wicked ant of thy poor withered hide
A banquet makes; in little bits
She cuts thee up, and empties thine inside,
And stores thee where in wealth she sits:
Choice diet when the winter numbs the wits.

III.

Here is the tale related duly,
And little resembling the fable, truly!
Hoarders of farthings, I know, deuce take it.
It isn't the story as you would make it!
Crook-fingers, big-bellies, what do you say,
Who govern the world with the cash-box--hey?

You have spread the story, with shrug and smirk,
That the artist ne'er does a stroke of work;
And so let him suffer, the imbecile!
Be you silent! 'Tis you, I think,
When the Cigale pierces the vine to drink,
Drive her away, her drink to steal;
And when she is dead--you make your meal!

CHAPTER II

THE CIGALE LEAVES ITS BURROW

The first Cigales appear about the summer solstice. Along the beaten
paths, calcined by the sun, hardened by the passage of frequent feet, we
see little circular orifices almost large enough to admit the thumb.
These are the holes by which the larvae of the Cigale have come up from
the depths to undergo metamorphosis. We see them more or less
everywhere, except in fields where the soil has been disturbed by
ploughing. Their usual position is in the driest and hottest situations,
especially by the sides of roads or the borders of footpaths. Powerfully
equipped for the purpose, able at need to pierce the turf or sun-dried
clay, the larva, upon leaving the earth, seems to prefer the hardest
spots.

A garden alley, converted into a little Arabia Petraea by reflection from
a wall facing the south, abounds in such holes. During the last days of
June I have made an examination of these recently abandoned pits. The
soil is so compact that I needed a pick to tackle it.

The orifices are round, and close upon an inch in diameter. There is
absolutely no debris round them; no earth thrown up from within. This is
always the case; the holes of the Cigales are never surrounded by
dumping-heaps, as are the burrows of the Geotrupes, another notable
excavator. The way in which the work is done is responsible for this
difference. The dung-beetle works from without inwards; she begins to
dig at the mouth of the burrow, and afterwards re-ascends and
accumulates the excavate