FAVOURITE FABLES.

FABLE LVI.
THE CUR, THE HORSE, AND THE SHEPHERD’S DOG.

A Vitiace Cur, of snappish race,

The pertest puppy in the place,
Imagined that his treble throat

Was blessed with music’s sweetest note ;
In the mid road he basking lay,

The yelping nuisance of the way ;

For not a creature passed along,

But had a sample of his song.

Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears ;
Away he scours, assaults his hoof;
Now near him snarls, now barks aloof;
With shrill impertinence attends ;

Nor leaves him till the village ends.

It chanced, upon his evil day,
A Pad came pacing down the way ;