Читать книгу Macmillan's Reading Books. Book V - Unknown - Страница 14

    As an ant, of his talents superiorly vain,

    Was trotting, with consequence, over the plain,

    A worm, in his progress remarkably slow,

    Cried—"Bless your good worship wherever you go;

    I hope your great mightiness won't take it ill,

    I pay my respects with a hearty good-will."

    With a look of contempt, and impertinent pride,

    "Begone, you vile reptile," his antship replied;

    "Go—go, and lament your contemptible state,

    But first—look at me—see my limbs how complete;

    I guide all my motions with freedom and ease,

    Run backward and forward, and turn when I please;

    Of nature (grown weary) you shocking essay!

    I spurn you thus from me—crawl out of my way."

      The reptile, insulted and vex'd to the soul,

    Crept onwards, and hid himself close in his hole;

    But nature, determined to end his distress,

    Soon sent him abroad in a butterfly's dress.

      Erelong the proud ant, as repassing the road,

    (Fatigued from the harvest, and tugging his load),

    The beau on a violet-bank he beheld,

    Whose vesture, in glory, a monarch's excelled;

    His plumage expanded—'twas rare to behold

    So lovely a mixture of purple and gold.

      The ant, quite amazed at a figure so gay,

    Bow'd low with respect, and was trudging away.

    "Stop, friend," says the butterfly; "don't be surprised,

    I once was the reptile you spurn'd and despised;

    But now I can mount, in the sunbeams I play,

    While you must for ever drudge on in your way."