Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 046.djvu/219

1839.] A lamp; but whether round or square, Or made of glass or earthenware,
 * Is more than I can tell.

But there it hung, in pious proof
 * Of Catholicity, before

The Virgin's shrine—a thing aloof, Just ninety feet below the roof,
 * And nine above the floor.

The owl, who felt at such a sight
 * His appetite for oil arise,

Swoop'd boldly towards it: but the light, Alack! was too intensely bright,
 * And scorch'd his lidless eyes.

So reeling backwards in despair,
 * He mutter'd, as he left the shrine,

"Oh! but for this terrific glare, How gloriously would I fare
 * Upon that oil of thine!

"But trust me, lamp, though now I flee,
 * If ever I should chance to find

Thy flame extinct—with fearless glee I'll glut my thirsty beak in thee,
 * Nor leave a drop behind."

And such are critics. But if they
 * Should feel dissatisfied with this,

Perhaps another fable may Present their likeness in a way,
 * That none can take amiss.

One day a ragman with his stick
 * Was poking in the kennel, when

A dog that pass'd began to prick His ears—for dogs delight to pick
 * A quarrel with such men.

And rushing headlong to the fray,
 * With bark and bite attack'd the man;

The frighten'd vagrant flung away His stick, or, as himself would say,
 * He cut his stick, and ran.

The dog pursued him as he fled; And "what a wretch is this," he cried, Who holds a living dog in dread, Yet, when he meets with one that's dead,
 * Will strip it of its hide!"