The Old Hen and Young Cock

As an old Hen led forth her train, And seemed to peck, to show the grain; She raked the chaff, she scratched the ground, And gleaned the spacious yard around. A giddy chick, to try her wings, On the well's narrow margin springs, And prone she drops. The mother's breast All day with sorrow was possessed.

A Cock she met—her son, she knew; And in her heart affection grew.

"My son," says she, "I grant, your years Have reached beyond a mother's cares; I see you vigorous, strong, and bold; I hear, with joy, your triumphs told. 'Tis not from Cocks thy fate I dread; But let thy ever-wary tread Avoid yon well; that fatal place Is sure perdition to our race. Print this, my counsel, on thy breast; To the just gods I leave the rest."

He thanked her care; yet, day by day, His bosom burned to disobey; And every time the well he saw, Scorned, in his heart, the foolish law; Near and more near each day he drew, And longed to try the dangerous view.

"Why was this idle charge?" he cries; "Let courage female fears despise! Or did she doubt my heart was brave, And, therefore, this injunction gave? Or does her harvest store the place, A treasure for her younger race? And would she thus my search prevent?— I stand resolved, and dare th' event."

Thus said, he mounts the margin's round, And pries into the depth profound. He stretched his neck; and, from below, With stretching neck advanced a foe: With wrath his ruffled plumes he tears; The foe with ruffled plumes appears: Threat answered threat, his fury grew; Headlong to meet the war he flew; But when the watery death he found, He thus lamented as he drowned: "I ne'er had been in this condition, Had I obeyed the prohibition."