At last the crow-hen fell at her husband's feet and said: "My dear lord, a great many children of mine have been eaten by that awful snake. And grief for my loved and lost haunts me until I think of moving. Let us make our home in some other tree. For
No friend like health abounding;
And like disease, no foe;
No love like love of children;
Like hunger-pangs, no woe.
And again:
With fields o'erhanging rivers,
With wife on flirting bent,
Or in a house with serpents,
No man can be content.
We are living in deadly peril."
At this the crow was dreadfully depressed, and he said: "We have lived in this tree a long time, my dear. We cannot desert it. For
Where water may be sipped, and grass
Be cropped, a deer might live content;
Yet insult will not drive him from
The wood where all his life was spent.
Moreover, by some shrewd device I will bring death upon this villainous and mighty foe."
"But," said his wife, "this is a terribly venomous snake. How will you hurt him?" And he replied: "My dear, even if I have not the power to hurt him, still I have friends who possess learning, who have
