The Wolf and the Dog

A WOLF, who was but skin and bone,
So watchful had the sheep-dogs grown,
Once met a Mastiff fat and sleek,
Stern only to the poor and weak.
Sir Wolf would fain, no doubt, have munched
This pampered cur, and on him lunched ;
But then the meal involved a fight,
And he was craven, save at night ;
For such a dog could guard his throat
As well as any dog of note.
So the Wolf, humbly flattering him,
Praised the soft plumpness of each limb.
" You're wrong, you're wrong, my noble sir,
To roam in woods indeed you err, "
The dog replies, " you do indeed ;
If you but wish, with me you'll feed.
Your comrades are a shabby pack,
Gaunt, bony, lean in side and back,
Pining for hunger, scurvy, hollow,
Fighting for every scrap they swallow.
Come, share my lot, and take your ease. "
" What must I do to earn it, please ? "
" Do ?—why, do nothing ! Beggar-men
Bark at and chase ; fawn now and then
At friends ; your master always flatter.
Do this, and by this little matter
Earn every sort of dainty dish—
Fowl-bones or pigeons'—what you wish—
Aye, better things ; and with these messes,
Fondlings, and ceaseless kind caresses. "
The Wolf, delighted, as he hears
Is deeply moved—almost to tears ;
When all at once he sees a speck,
A gall upon the Mastiff's neck.
" What's that ? "—" Oh, nothing ! " " Nothing ? "—" No ! "
" A slight rub from the chain, you know. "
" The chain ! " replies the Wolf, aghast ;
" You are not free ?—they tie you fast ? "
" Sometimes. But, law! what matters it ? "—
" Matters so much, the rarest bit
Seems worthless, bought at such a price. "
The Wolf, so saying, in a trice,
Ran off, and with the best goodwill,
And very likely's running still.