The Deer and the Prophet
"Ha, old Impostor!" he began—
But " Peace," the prophet said, " my man;
For while we argue, you and I,
The hungry fawns are like to die.
Nay, let the mother go. Within an hour, I say,
She shall return for thee to spare or slay ;
Or, if she be not here.
Then I will stand your slave in surety for the deer."
The huntsman turned and stared a while.
"For sure, the fool is void of guile!
Well, he shall be my slave i' sooth.
And work as in his idle youth
He never worked, the rogue!" Our huntsman
laughed for glee,
And bent and loosed the tangles joyfully:
And forth the creature bounded, wild and free.
But when she reached the bracken-bed,
Where still the young ones lay abed
Below the hawthorn branches thick—
"Awake," she cried, "my fawns, and milk me quick;
For I have left within the net
The very prophet Mahomet!"
"Ah!" cried the little fawns, and heard
(But understood not half a word).
" Quick, quick, our little mother, quick away,
And come back all the quicklier! " cried the fawns
And called a last goodbye;
And sat a little sad, they knew not why,
And watched their mother bounding, white and grey,
Dim in the distance, o'er the dewy lawns
And wide, unfriendly forests all in flower.
And so the deer returned within an hour.
"Now," said the prophet, smiling, "kill
Or take the ransom, as you will."
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