Fab. XXXVII. Of the Hart and Oxen. AH me! poor Hart3ah Whither malt thou fly? A pack of cruel Hounds in a full Cry Are at thy Heels,on the bold Hunts-men ruftj In Woods there is no Safety, every Bufh My Horns will tangle in: ah ! where s the Stream Whofe Waves commiferating would from them To further Shores in Safety me convey, W^here I at laft my weary Limbs might lay ? Thus the chas'd Deer his woful Chance bcmones To Hils and Dales, deaf Trees and fenflels Stones; When his own Fate, by ill Advice, did call Him to feek Refuge, at the Oxens Stall. To whom he (aid; Ah ! for Acquaintance fake, Since we in one Park dwelt, fome Pity take, Receive me in; a thoufand waies you may Save this poor Life; I'll hide in yonder Hay. W hen one repli'd, He might in fafety ly There till the Men, and cruel Dogs pa(s by ; But if their Mafter or his Man came in, The Danger greater was,fliould he be feen. Keep Counfel, Sirs, and I will venture here: Under the Cock,at All-hid plays the Deer. W^hen a dull Servant enter'd, one that did Not half the Work his careful Mailer bid, Returning when the Beafts were ferv'd with Hay. Then flatt'ring Hope did the glad Hart betray. But an experienced 0x} whom Livie made Once ipeak before,to him rejoycing,faid; Unhappy Friend, thou haft imall caufeto vant; Wert thou as mighty as an Elephant, Stood