“Hark! hark! to the sound now my comrades rejoice,

’Tis the bell-bird who calls us, I know well his voice;

Campanero, who graciously offer’d his song

When the feast was prepared, ’tis his ding-a-dong-dong;”

So exclaim’d a poor turnspit, their cook, who’d been toiling

All day very busily roasting or broiling.

At this moment that spoiler of pic-nics, a shower,

Obliged them to rush to the vine-cover’d bower,

Where in it—oh! joy to the hungry! they found

The repast long expected laid out on the ground.

They had raised to the office of “maÎtre d’hotel”

The glutton, (and who could perform it so well?)

Who with excellent taste, and an eye to a share,

Had collected the following luxuries there:—

Bass and gar in such plenty it made their hearts glad;

The sun and the moon-fish, the star-fish and dab,

The sting-ray and sheepshead, drum, grooper and crab;

Turkey-buzzards, swans, eagles, form’d excellent hashes,

When flavour’d with tallow-nuts, pompions, and squashes;

Baked frogs, “en surprise,” from a forest on fire,

Flamingoes, removed by a huge Lammergeyer;

Gulls, ravens, herons, boobies, bald-coots, water-hens,

And yards of strung ortolans, linnets, and wrens;

Loons, noddies, and nuthatches cook’d in a stew,

Whale blubber “en gras,” and guanas “au bleu;”

Jerk’d beef from the south, and large watersnake broth,

And a great dish of pemmican brought from the north;

Green branches of trees from the beaver’s damp hut,

Bowls of milk from the cow-tree and hickory-nut;

Then venison “en cÂche,” maize, wild rice, and, to boot,

Guavas, cranberries, mangoes, grapes, shaddock, breadfruit!

Here they sate and discuss’d the magnificent fare

Which the glutton had superintended with care.

The bears suck’d their paws, and pronounced it delicious.

Of the noise-dreading Mr. Raccoon it was said,

That he sopp’d all his food, which was voted ill-bred;

And that, puff’d with conceit, he declared he look’d wise,

A distinction he owed to his spectacled eyes.

’Twas observed too (you know how the gossips will talk,)

Master guinea-pig stuff’d till he hardly could walk,

Though which dainty was best it was hard to determine:

The meat was too fresh for the epicure ermine;

To which glutton answered, “That all he could say

Was, that it, like himself, was ‘bien mortifiÉe.’”

Though it must be confess’d they were terribly squeezed

By the poor little cubs, whom their dams would insert

Between the grown quadrupeds’ seats at dessert.

As they always objected to travel by night,

And were trotting along, never thinking of harm,

When their friends heard the tree-frog foretelling a storm;

Most sagaciously blinking and watching the sky,

Then he look’d to the east, and thus hoarsely he spoke,

“There’s a terrible storm coming up, croak! croak! croak!”

At this sound of alarm, which all living things hate;

The snake-bird is startled, and drops from her bough

To dive in the stream that runs swiftly below.

Whilst perch’d on a tree the wood-pelican’s dreams

Are disturb’d by the crane’s and the crying-bird’s screams.

The tortoise made off at the mention of rain,

And troops of scared quadrupeds scour the plain!

To see if the warner has told them aright,

As they flatter themselves that it may be mere fancy,

Or put little faith in the toad’s necromancy;

They find he speaks truly, the storm is approaching,

Dark clouds o’er the beautiful blue are encroaching,

The tempest lays low the tall grass in the field,

To the furious blasts even forest-trees yield;

Bursts at once o’er their heads, and o’erwhelms them with wonder!

His danger by instinct each quadruped knows,

Now confusion has taken the place of repose:

The bears shake their coats, and roll off with a growl,

Wolves, dogs, wolverenes, scamper off in full howl.

With their quills mounting guard, timid porcupines wait,

Whilst the Jaguar and Couguar crouch low and retreat.

The sloth gently draws himself up on a bough,

The raccoon slyly enters the hollow below.

Mice, hedgehogs, and tortoises creep to their holes,

And their fortified refuge is sought by the moles.

Seals and otters plunge silently into the lake,

Mrs. Beaver, too, dives with her young in her wake.

The tapir returns to his home in the fens,

The marmots are off to their underground dens,

And the wishtonwish marmot, the kind prairie dog,

Makes room in his hole for the tortoise and frog.

The hamster runs home, with the pouch in his cheek

Stuff’d with various provisions enough for a week;

Then stores in his dark lonely cell the rich pelf,

For, ill bred and greedy, he cares but for self.

With his very best friend he could never agree,

But lived by himself without pleasure or mirth,

In a hermit-like vault, five feet deep in the earth;

But the sentinel marmot’s shrill whistle of fear

Echoes loud o’er the plain, and is heard far and near

By his joyous allies, for whose safety he cared,

And whose dangers, mirth, sorrows, and dwelling he shared.

And Mrs. Opossum, good dame, holds her breath,

Safely pockets her young, and as usual, feigns death;

Till the storm has blown over they lie in their sack,

Whilst the seal scrambles home with her cub pic-a-back.

Sir Hans Armadillo, coil’d up in a ball,

From the edge of a precipice lets himself fall;

Being arm’d “cap-À-pie,” he rolls safely away,

And lives, without doubt, in his hole to this day.

The rein-deer most kindly was offer’d to share

In her cold wintry drive by the white polar bear;

And she proffers a seat in her sledge, for she knows

’Tis a long weary way to her region of snows;

Besides, she is eager to join the dear child

She had left on an ice-floe alone to run wild.

Mr. Glutton was kill’d e’en whilst taking a nap;

And the badger, poor fellow! for shelter must roam,

For he finds the red fox has got into his home.<