“No,” said the man, already started,
    “Then,” cried the Ass, as he departed. 
    “I’ll stay, and be—­no matter whose;
    Save you yourself, and leave me loose,
    But let me tell you, ere you go
    (I speak plain English, as you know),
    My master is my only foe.”

  The Lion Going to War

  The Lion had an enterprise in hand;
    Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal,
    And gave the animals a call impartial—­
  Each, in his way, to serve his high command. 
  The Elephant should carry on his back
  The tools of war, the mighty public pack,
  And fight in elephantine way and form;
  The Bear should hold himself prepared to storm;
  The Fox all secret stratagems should fix;
  The Monkey should amuse the foe by tricks. 
  “Dismiss,” said one, “the blockhead Asses,
    And Hares, too cowardly and fleet.” 
  “No,” said the King; “I use all classes;
    Without their aid my force were incomplete. 
  The Ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare
  Our enemy.  And then the nimble Hare
  Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear.”

    A monarch provident and wise
  Will hold his subjects all of consequence,
    And know in each what talent lies. 
  There’s nothing useless to a man of sense.

  The Ass and the Lap-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! 
  Oh, 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.

  The Hare and the Partridge