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38
THE MOUSE's PETITION.
For here forlorn and ſad I ſit,
Within the wiry grate;
And tremble at th' approaching morn,
Which brings impending fate.
If e'er thy breaſt with freedom glow'd,
And ſpurn'd a tyrant's chain,
Let not thy ſtrong oppreſſive force
A free-born mouſe detain.
Oh! do not ſtain with guiltleſs blood
Thy hoſpitable hearth;
Nor triumph that thy wiles betray'd
A prize ſo little worth.
The ſcatter'd gleanings of a feaſt
My frugal meals ſupply;
But if thine unrelenting heart
That ſlender boon deny,
The
