The Countryman and the Serpent

A countryman, as Aesop certifies, / A charitable man, but not so wise, / One day in winter found, / Stretch'd on the snowy ground, / A chill'd or frozen snake, / As torpid as a stake, / And, if alive, devoid of sense. / He took him up, and bore him home, / And, thinking not what recompense / For such a charity would come, / Before the fire stretch'd him, / And back to being fetch'd him. / The snake scarce felt the genial heat / Before his heart with native malice beat. / He raised his head, thrust out his forkèd tongue, / Coil'd up, and at his benefactor sprung. / 'Ungrateful wretch! ' said he, 'is this the way / My care and kindness you repay? / Now you shall die. ' With that his axe he takes, / And with two blows three serpents makes. / Trunk, head, and tail were separate snakes; / And, leaping up with all their might, / They vainly sought to reunite.

'Tis good and lovely to be kind; / But charity should not be blind; / For as to wretchedness ingrate, / You cannot raise it from its wretched state.[1]