Fable I. The Weazel and Mice

A Weasel, worn with years, and lame,

That could not overtake its game,

Now with the nimble Mice to deal,

Disguised herself with barley meal;

Then negligent her limbs she spread

In a sly nook, and lay for dead.

A Mouse that thought she there might feed,

Leapt up, and perish’d in the deed;

A second in like manner died;

A third, and sundry more beside:

Then comes the brindled Mouse, a chap

That oft escaped both snare and trap,

And seeing how the trick was played,

Thus to his crafty foe he said:—

“So may’st thou prosper day and night,

As thou art not an errant bite.”

Riley