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Läsebok". N:o 70—71.
Tell bow the moonbeam trembling falls,
And tips with silver all the walls;
But let it (in a word) be said,
The moon was up, and men abed;
The napkins white, the carpet red:
The guests withdrawn had left the treat,
And down the mice sat, tëte-à-tëte.
Our Courtier walks from dish to dish,
Tastes for his friend of fowl and fish;
Tells all their names, lays down the law:
»Que ca est hon! Ah, youtez ga!
That jelly’s rich, this malmsey’s healing;
Pray, dip your whiskers and your tail in».
Was ever such a happy swain!
He stuffs and swills and stuffs again.
»I’m quite ashamed — ’tis mighty rude
To eat so much — but all is good.
I have a thousand thanks to give:
My lord alone knows how to live!»
No sooner said, but from the ball.
Rush chaplain, butler, dogs and all,
»A rat, a rat! slap to the door!»
The cat comes bouncing at the floor.
0, for the heart of Homer’s mice,
Or gods, to save them in a trice!
»An t please your honour», quoth the peasant,
This same dessert is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow tree,
A crust of bread and liberty!»
Alexander Pope.
71. The Complaints of the Poor.
And wherefore do the poor complain?
The rich man ask’d of me, —
Come, walk abroad with me, I said,
And I will answer thee.
’Twas evening, and the frozen streets
Were cheerless to behold;
And we were wrapt and coated w
ell,
And yet we were a-cold.
We met an old bareheaded man,
His locks were few and white;
I asked him what he did abroad
In that cold winter’s night.
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