21 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
21 lines
1.3 KiB
Text
The Bittern and the Hoopoe
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"Where do you like best to feed your flocks?" said a man to an old
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cow-herd. "Here, sir, where the grass is neither too rich nor too poor,
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or else it is no use." "Why not?" asked the man. "Do you hear that
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melancholy cry from the meadow there?" answered the shepherd, "that is
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the bittern; he was once a shepherd, and so was the hoopoe also,--I will
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tell you the story. The bittern pastured his flocks on rich green
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meadows where flowers grew in abundance, so his cows became wild and
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unmanageable. The hoopoe drove his cattle on to high barren hills,
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where the wind plays with the sand, and his cows became thin, and got
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no strength. When it was evening, and the shepherds wanted to drive
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their cows homewards, the bittern could not get his together again;
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they were too high-spirited, and ran away from him. He called, "Come,
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cows, come," but it was of no use; they took no notice of his calling.
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The hoopoe, however, could not even get his cows up on their legs, so
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faint and weak had they become. "Up, up, up," screamed he, but it was
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in vain, they remained lying on the sand. That is the way when one has
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no moderation. And to this day, though they have no flocks now to
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watch, the bittern cries, "Come, cows, come," and the hoopoe, "Up, up,
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up."
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