The busy Worm will soon begin
Its golden colour'd silk to spin.
Mark well each tiny, filmy thread,
Entwined around its little head,

And wonder at the creature's skill,
But more at His Almighty will,
Who ne'er created living thing,

Or caus'd on this wide earth to spring
A simple plant, a shrub, or tree,

Without some good and wise decree!
Mortals, who doubt great Nature's pow'r,
And idly waste each passing hour,
Observe yon little Worm, and say,
"No more I'll throw my time away!"

Take, then, example by its art,
And labour well to do your part.
Employment all should seek thro' life,
For idleness engenders strife.

Ye wise, whose proudest, noblest aim,
Is center'd in a spotless name,
Exert yourselves, where'er you be,
And give your minds to industry.
Thus occupied, you ne'er will roam
From Wisdom's path or Virtue's home,
The good will love you, and contend

Who most through life shall be your friend.

35

THE BEES, THE WASP, AND THE ANTS. 25

'Twas near an humble cottage door,

Where laughing urchins strew'd the floor

With flow'rets wild of brightest hue,

And many clust'ring roses grew,
That bees were hiv'd, and gaily seen

Disporting o'er a meadow green,

Where Ants had raised a hillock round,

Containing cells beneath the ground,

Arrang'd with skill in ev'ry part,

Surpassing all mechanic art.

The little creatures daily ran

About the hive: it was their plan,
To gather food where'er they could,-
A thing between them understood,—
Expecting not a foe to find,

Except in those of mortal kind,
Who treading, kill, and care not they

How many tiny ants they slay! —
Altho' ev'ry living creature,

When it pays the debt of nature,
Be it insect, man, or beast,

From the mightiest to the least,
On yielding up its vital breath,
Feels equally the pang of death!
Such cruel sights are nothing new,

But feuds from bees they never knew.

Sometimes a drone, as passing by,

Would stop and sip their store-house nigh;

But, on no further mischief bent,

He'd fly away, and rest content.

Long had they lived in mutual glee,-

A kind of social amity,

Until a meddling Wasp appcar'd,
And with the parties interfer'd.
He, jealous of their happy state,
Would fain such peace exterminate;

And, to that Evil one's disgrace,
Like many of the human race,

Who envy

friends the bliss they find

In unity and being kind.

He thus address'd a wand'ring Ant,
With all the specious art of cant:-

"My dearest friend, give ear, I pray,
To what in friendship I've to say;
Which 'tis but right that you should know,
So list' to me before you go."

"No, no!" the cautious Ant replied; "As Time stays not, nor does the tide,

Like them I now must hurry on,
Nor rest until the day is gone.

For I have plenty yet to do,

And cannot stop to prate with you." "Indeed, you paltry, peevish thing,

Of ants the very mighty king!

My aim, then, I will freely own

It is your antship to dethrone.

Since you a friend can thus annoy,

Your well-stor'd cells I'll now destroy ;

Your home lay waste, and, this believe,
Occasion all your tribe to grieve.

Dread war with one and all I'll wage,
Nor mercy show to youth or age!"

The Ant still journey'd on his way,
Unheeding all the Wasp could say,
Replying, "I will not contend

With such a faithless, would-be friend,

Whose promises, tho' very fair,

Were never made but to ensnare."

Of specious friends we should be shy,

Till we perceive good reason why
From others they should us select,
To overload with their respect.

Those who profess too much e'er doubt,
And seek to find their meaning out:
True friendship time alone can show-
Who trusts too soon, may work his woe.
The Wasp, alone, then first began

To study how he should trepan

The Ant, whose speech he could not brook,

And soon the vilest mode he took.

A busy Bee, as past she flew,

With loaded sweets of honey dew,

Did he the cruel Wasp espy,

And straight resolv'd the Bee should die.