'He is waiting somewhere by,' said the Deer, 'to taste my flesh,'
'Well,' sighed the Crow, 'I warned you; but it is as in the true verse--
'Stars gleam, lamps flicker, friends foretell of fate;
The fated sees, knows, hears them--all too late.'
And then, with a deeper sigh, he exclaimed,'Ah, traitor Jackal, what an
ill deed hast thou done! Smooth-tongued knave--alas!--and in the face of
the monition too--
'Absent, flatterers' tongues are daggers--present, softer than the
silk;
Shun them! 'tis a jar of poison hidden under harmless milk;
Shun them when they promise little! Shun them when they promise much!
For, enkindled, charcoal burneth--cold, it doth defile the touch.'
When the day broke, the Crow (who was still there) saw the master of the
field approaching with his club in his hand.
'Now, friend Deer,' said Sharp-sense on perceiving him, 'do thou cause
thyself to seem like one dead: puff thy belly up with wind, stiffen thy
legs out, and lie very still. I will make a show of pecking thine eyes
out with my beak; and whensoever I utter a croak, then spring to thy
feet and betake thee to flight.
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