THE LYNX AND THE MOLE.
A lynx by chance met a mole at the foot of a mound. “Ah, poor wretch!” said the lynx, “what a life is yours! Shut up in the cold, damp ground, you see no light, nor feel the warmth of the sun, for you do but move from mine to mine. If you could but see me as I vault by your dark mound with limbs so free, and my sight—ah! my sight—so keen, you would die of grief at your dull life. Would that I could change it for you, my friend!” “I thank you for your kind wish,” said the mole; “but I need not your help, nor do I feel so dull as you think, for I was bred and born in the ground, and all my days have been spent here. I have my dear young ones round me, and more than all, I am safe. My eyes are small, it is true, but that has made my ears sharp, and if they serve me well now, I hear a sound which seems to come from where you stand, and it tells of a foe.” Just then up rode some men from the hunt, who thrust a spear through the heart of the poor lynx, and he fell dead; but the mole went safe back to her hole in the bank, and said, when she got there, “Home is home for all that.”
What the eye sees not, the heart rues not.
Though the fox runs, the chick has wings.