30.

The Beggar-Man.

AROUND the fire, one wintry night,

The farmer's rosy children sat,
The faggot lent its blazing light,

And jokes went round and careless chat.
When, hark! a gentle hand they hear,
Low tapping at the bolted door;
And, thus to gain their willing ear,
A feeble voice was heard to implore:
"Cold blows the blast across the moor,
The sleet drives hissing in the wind,
Yon toilsome mountain lies before,
A dreary treeless waste behind.
Open your hospitable door,

And shield me from the biting blast;
Cold, cold it blows across the moor,
The weary moor that I have past!"
With hasty steps the farmer ran,

And close beside the fire they place
The poor half-frozen beggar-man,
With shaking limbs and pallid face.
The little children flocking came,

And warm'd his stiffening hands in theirs;
And busily the good old dame

A comfortable mess prepares.

Their kindness cheer'd his drooping soul;
And slowly down his wrinkled cheek
The big round tear was seen to roll,

And told the thanks he could not speak.
The children too began to sigh,

And all their merry chat was o'er;
And yet they felt, they knew not why,

More glad than they had done before.
LUCY AIKIN.

31. The Song of the Foxes.

YOUNG FOX.

Ho! brother Fox, dost hear what I say? Hey for the coppice-wood down in the vale!

The hunt and the hounds are coming this

way,

Hey for the coppice-wood down in the vale!

Chorus.

Heigho, heigho! hey for the coppice-wood, Hey for the coppice-wood down in the vale!

Heigho, heigho! hey for the coppice-wood, Hey for the coppice-wood down in the vale!

The master, I know him,old Timothy Sheen, Hey for the coppice-wood down in the

vale!

And the field that is with him, in scarlet and green,

Hey for the coppice-wood down in the vale!

Heigho, &c.

I've seen him just now, in his hunting array, His dogs all about, on the scent of their

prey.

Now should they but find us here under the rocks,

I'd give but a song for our chance, brother Fox.

OLD FOX.

Why then if they're coming, we'd best make

away,

And leave them to find such sport as they

may.

And if they've a mind to be riding all day, All for no good, let them have their own H. F.

way.

N.B. The Burden, "Hey for," &c. is repeated after each line; and the Chorus, "Heigho," &c. at the end of each couplet.

32. By the side of a murmuring

Stream.

By the side of a murmuring stream
An elderly gentleman sat;

On the top of his head was his wig,
On the top of his wig was his hat.

The wind it blew high and blew strong
Where this elderly gentleman sat,
And took from his head in a trice
And plung'd in the river his hat.
The gentleman then took his cane,
Which lay by his side as he sat,
But he dropp'd in the river his wig,
In attempting to get out his hat,

And now in the depth of despair,
Though still from the place where he sat,
He flung in the river his cane,

To swim with his wig and his hat.

But cooler reflection at length,
As this elderly gentleman sat,
Said, jump up and follow the stream,
And look for your wig and your hat.

But alas for the thought! for so soon
As he rose from the place where he sat,
He slipp'd! and fell plump overhead,
To swim with his wig and his hat!

33. The Fox and the Cat.

THE Fox and the Cat, as they travelled one day,

With moral discourses cut shorter the way: ""Tis good," said the Fox, "to make justice our guide."

"How godlike is mercy!" Grimalkin replied.

As thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood,

Impatient of hunger and thirsting for blood, Rush'd forth as he saw the dull shepherd asleep,

And seized for his breakfast an innocent Sheep.

""Tis in vain," cried the Wolf, "Mistress Sheep, that you bleat,

When mutton's at hand, you know well I must eat."

The Cat was astounded! the Fox stood aghast!

To see the fell beast at his cruel repast.

"What a wretch!" said the Cat; "what a bloodthirsty brute!

To seize a poor Sheep, when there's herbage and fruit."

Cried the Fox, "With the acorns so sweet and so good,

What a tyrant this is to spill innocent blood."

Then onward they went and discoursed by the way,

And with still more wise maxims enliven'd the day;

And e'er as they travell'd they moralised still,

Till they came where some poultry peck'd chaff by a mill

Then the Fox, without ceasing his sayings so wise,

Now snapp'd up a Chicken by way of a prize;

And a mouse which then chanced from her covert to stray,

The thoughtful Grimalkin secured as her prey.

A Spider who sat in her web on the wall Perceived the poor victims and pitied their fail;

She cried, "Of such murders how guiltless am I!"

Then ran to regale on a new-taken Fly.

J. CUNNINGHAM.