An old man, riding on his ass, Had found a spot of thrifty grass, And there turn’d loose his weary beast. Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, Flung up his heels, and caper’d round, Then roll’d and rubb’d upon the ground, And frisk’d and browsed and bray’d, And many a clean spot made. Arm’d men came on them as he fed: “Let’s fly,” in haste the old man said. “And wherefore so?” the ass replied; “With heavier burdens will they ride?” “No,” said the man, already started. “Then,” cried the ass, as he departed “I’ll stay, and be—no matter whose; Save you yourself, and leave me loose But let me tell you, ere you go, (I speak plain English, as you know,) My master is my only foe.”