'Tis easy enough to be merry and sing,
But living on air is a different thing."
X.
The Spider was silent, and looked very grave--
'Twas a habit he had--the scheming old knave!
No Spider, intent on his labor of love,
Had more of the serpent, or less of the dove.
XI.
"To serve you would give me great pleasure," said he;
"Come into my palace, and tarry with me;
The Spider knows nothing of labor and care.
Come, you shall be welcome our bounty to share.
XII.
"I live like a king, and my wife like a queen,
In meadows where flowers are blooming and green;
'Tis sweet on the violet's bosom to lie,
And list to the stream that runs merrily by.
XIII.
"With us you shall mingle in scenes of delight,
All summer and winter, from morning till night;
And when 'neath the hills the sun sinks in the west,
Your head on a pillow of roses shall rest.
XIV.
"When miserly Bees shall return from their toils,
We'll catch them, and tie them, and feast on the spoils;
I'll lighten their burdens--I ought to know how--
My pantry is full of such gentlemen now.
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