"
With that an axe of gold he show'd.
"Is't this?" The Woodman answer'd, "Nay."
An axe of silver, bright and gay,
Refused the honest Woodman too.
At last the finder brought to view
An axe of iron, steel, and wood.
"That's mine," he said, in joyful mood;
"With that I'll quite contented be."
The god replied, "I give the three,
As due reward of honesty."
This luck when neighbouring choppers knew,
They lost their axes, not a few,
And sent their prayers to Jupiter
So fast, he knew not which to hear.
His winged son, however, sent
With gold and silver axes, went.
Each would have thought himself a fool
Not to have own'd the richest tool.
But Mercury promptly gave, instead
Of it, a blow upon the head.

_With simple truth to be contented,
Is surest not to be repented:
But still there are who would
With evil trap the good,
Whose cunning is but stupid,
For Jove is never duped._

The Eagle and the Owl

The Eagle and the Owl, resolved to cease
Their war, embraced in pledge of peace.
On faith of King, on faith of Owl, they swore
That they would eat each other's chicks no more.
"But know you mine?" said Wisdom's bird.
"Not I, indeed," the Eagle cried.
"The worse for that," the Owl replied:
"I fear your oath's a useless word;
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 b