ave one,
For omens serves the hoarse old raven,
The rook's of coming ills the prophet;
And if there's any discontent,
I've heard not of it.
Cease, then, your envious complaint;
Or I, instead of making up your lack,
Will take your boasted plumage from your back."

The Eagle and the Beetle

John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased,
Was making for his hole in haste,
When, on his way, he met a Beetle's burrow.
I leave you all to think
If such a little chink
Could to a rabbit give protection thorough;
But, since no better could be got,
John Rabbit, there was fain to squat.
Of course, in an asylum so absurd,
John felt ere long the talons of the bird.
But first the Beetle, interceding, cried,
"Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied
That, maugre my protection, you can bear
My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air,
But do not give me such affront, I pray;
And since he craves your grace,
In pity of his case,
Grant him his life, or take us both away;
For he's my gossip, friend and neighbour."
In vain the Beetle's friendly labour;
The Eagle clutched her prey without reply,
And as she flapped her vasty wings to fly,
Struck down our orator and stilled him--
The wonder is she hadn't killed him.
The Beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest
Flew to the old, gnarled mountain oak,
Which proudly bore that haughty Eagle's nest.
And while the bird was gone,
Her eggs, her cherished eggs, he broke,
Not sparing one.
Returning from her flight, the Eagle's cry
Of rage and bitter anguish filled the sky,
But, by excess of passion blind,
Her enemy she failed to find.
Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate
To live a mourning mother, desolate.
The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain;
The Beetle found and dashed her eggs again.

John Rabbit's death was thus avenged anew.
The second mourning for her murdered brood
Was such that through the giant mountain wood,
For six long months, the sleepless echo flew.
The bird, once Ganymede, now made
Her prayer to Jupiter for aid;
And, laying them within his godship's lap,
She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap;
The god his own could not but make them--
No wretch would venture there to break them.
And no one did. Their enemy, this time,
Upsoaring to a place sublime,
Let f