* CHAPTER V. "There was a jolly fat frog Lived in the river Swim O! 'And then, O!'— " Sir, you'll bite me- -Sir, you'll bite me!' Said the Frog to the Crow again, O! 'But there is sweet music On yonder green hill, O! A dancer all in yellow.' 'All in yellow-all in yellow,' Said the Frog to the Crow again, O! 'Farewell, ye little fishes That are in the river Swim O! For I'm going to be a dancer, "Oh, beware!-oh, beware!' Said the Fish to the Frog again, O! The Frog, he came a swimming, A swimming to land, O! And the Crow, he came a hopping, To lend him his hand, O! 'Sir, you're welcome-Sir, you're welcome! Said the Crow to the Frog, and then, O! 'Sir, I thank you-Sir, I—'' * The jolly fat frog made up his mind, despite all advice and warnings, to accept the crow's invitation. It was a great pity he was so ridiculously vain and conceited; for he really had a good deal of taste, and a fair share of talent-quite enough to have rendered him a useful and amiable frog; but that would not satisfy his absurd ambition. I often think it was a pity he was beguiled by that hypocritical crow; but his vanity was such, that if he had not been fooled by the crow, he would have been fooled by some other bird or beast equally fond of frog-meat; he thought that whoever did not flatter him was his enemy, and whoever did, was his friend; he therefore, as I have said, determined to "Go on shore." And accordingly, bloating himself out to his full extent, he called to his kindred; but save the poor little lady-frog, who floated watchfully amongst the bulrushes, there was not a responding croak. He made indignant eyes at the council chamber and the chamber of commons, and even at the private dwelling-houses of his relatives and friends, by whom he considered himself abandoned; he shook his toes at them, and then, swelling his throat, he sang, with a good deal of feeling and solemnity, this farewell to the fish, which the poet has preserved :— "Farewell ye little fishes Which are in the river Swim O! For I'm going to be a dancer A dancer in yellow!" And a great, long sigh came up from the "little fishes," which formed a half-rhyming echo "Poor fellow-poor fellow!" The "jolly fat frog" then "gathered himself up" for great exertion; and spreading his arms widely, and stretching out his legs, he dived once or twice in the most fearless manner, so that the "comely black crow" cawed either in admiration or from anxiety lest his victim should have escaped; but not so. The poor frog landed, and fixed his great staring fishy eyes on the crow, who hopped to "lend him his hand." When he had scrambled up the bank, the wily crow received him with great politeness. He was still close to the river, and the least change of manner might have prompted an immediate G return to his native element. One spring would do it; so he bowed, and cawed, and repeated, "Sir, you're welcome; sir, you're welcome." And the frog bowed and croaked, "Sir, I thank you; sir, I thank you." And then came rather a dangerous pause. A very natural suspicion entered into the frog's mind: he glanced over the bank, and saw the little lady-frog half out of the water, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, entreating his return. He might yet have been saved. One spring, as I have already said, would have done it; but he hesitated, and turning to the crow he inquired "But, where is the sweet music, On yonder green hill, O? The dancers in yellow?" "This way-just this way," replied the crow; "a very, very little farther, and then you will see them. Do you not hear the music?" "I hear the hum of the bee and the boom of the beetle," answered the frog. "I see you are as exquisite a judge of music as of everything else," replied the crafty crow; "but if you will just oblige me, and stand where I am standing now, you will hear the music and see the dancers; their yellow dresses glitter in the sun like a field of buttercups;-but they are not as bright as your beautiful skin." The foolish, foolish frog took the crow's place, which was sufficiently far from the river for the crow's purpose; and neither hearing nor seeing what he expected, he repeated in a nervous, trembling voice "But, where is the sweet music, On yonder green hill, Ọ? "Sir, they're here; sir, they're here!" was the loud reply, followed by a pounce, a struggle, and a shriek―so fearful that the frogs in the Swim O joined in one terrific croak: the very trees on the bank shook, and the fish arose in one great shoal to the top of the water. "What's here to do?" grumbled an old raven, who was winging his way homewards. "What are they fighting about down there?" And while wheeling carefully round, his quick, keen eye espied the "comely black crow" intent upon his dinner. |