The Ass And The Little Dog

One's native talent from its course

Cannot be turned aside by force;

But poorly apes the country clown

The polish'd manners of the town.

Their Maker chooses but a few

With power of pleasing to imbue;

Where wisely leave it we, the mass,

Unlike a certain fabled ass,

That thought to gain his master's blessing

By jumping on him and caressing.

"What!" said the donkey in his heart;

"Ought it to be that puppy's part

To lead his useless life

In full companionship

With master and his wife,

While I must bear the whip?

What doth the cur a kiss to draw?

Forsooth, he only gives his paw!

If that is all there needs to please,

I'll do the thing myself, with ease."

Possess'd with this bright notion,--

His master sitting on his chair,

At leisure in the open air,--

He ambled up, with awkward motion,

And put his talents to the proof;

Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof,

And, with an amiable mien,

His master patted on the chin,

The action gracing with a word--

The fondest bray that e'er was heard!

O, such caressing was there ever?

Or melody with such a quaver?

"Ho! Martin! here! a club, a club bring!"

Out cried the master, sore offended.

So Martin gave the ass a drubbing,--

And so the comedy was ended.

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