XVII. Now from his spoken purpose XVIII. Sure such unseemly neighbors His silly courtiers swore ; But all true loyal subjects, They loved the King the more. XIX. Long, long he ruled his kingdom In honor and renown; But danger ever threatens The head that wears a crown, And Fortune, tired of smiling, XXI. And so two wicked courtiers, To mar the monarch's reign, To plan their wicked treason, Hard by the widow's cot, And straight revealed the plot ! XXIV. "I see," exclaimed the Persian, "The just are wise alone; Who spares the rights of others May chance to guard his own; The widow's humble cottage Has propped a monarch's throne!" THE YOUTH AND THE NORTHWIND. A TALE OF NORWAY. NCE on a time - 't was long ago ONCE There lived a worthy dame Who sent her son to fetch some flour, But while he loitered on the road, "Alas! what shall we do for bread?" Exclaimed the weeping lad; "The flour is gone! - the flour is gone!And it was all we had!" And so he sought the Northwind's cave, "Good Mister Boreas!" said the lad, "'T was all we had to live upon, My mother old and I; O give us back the flour again, Or we shall surely die!" "I have it not," the Northwind growled ; "But, for your lack of bread, I give to you this table-cloth; 'T will serve you well instead; “For you have but to spread it out, Will straight appear at your command, The lad received the magic cloth, Returning homeward, at an inn So while he slept, the knavish host And stole the cloth, but shrewdly placed Another in its stead. Unknowing what the rogue had done, The lad went on his way, And came unto his journey's end Just at the close of day. He showed the dame his table-cloth, And told her of its power; "Good sooth!" he cried, "'t was well for us The Northwind stole the flour!" "Perhaps," exclaimed the cautious crone, "The story may be true; 'T is mighty little good, I ween, Your table-cloth can do!" And now the younker spread it forth, And tried the spell alas! 'T was but a common table-cloth, And nothing came to pass. Then to the Northwind, far away, "I have it not," the Northwind growled, "But, for your lack of bread, I give to you this little goat, 'T will serve you well instead ; "For you have but to tell him this: 'Make money! Master Bill!' And he will give you golden coins, As many as you will!" The lad received the magic-goat, Returning homeward, at the inn So while he slept, the knavish host And stole the goat, Another in his stead. but shrewdly placed |