The Spider and the Fly - Mary Howitt (1829)

I really like this poem by Mary Howitt. It's a cautionary tale about the dangers of deceit and flattery: the crafty spider tries all sorts of tricks to tempt the innocent fly into it's the web. The little fly isn't interested in the appeal of the pretty staircase, the comfy bed or the food in the parlour - but as soon as the spider begins to flatter the fly, the trap is sprung!

This poem in particular has stuck in my memory because I used to suffer from arachnophobia as a child - the prospect of any spider being anywhere near me used to send me into fits. One day as I was driving along in someone else's old car, I felt what could only have been a gigantic tarantula climb onto my head.

Somehow I managed to pull over without causing an accident, only to discover that it was a man's glove that had been resting on the sun visor, which was extended at an angle instead of tucked in it's proper place. After that I realised I had to do something and I booked a hypnosis session. Thankfully I've never looked back - I'd even go as far to say as I like spiders now :)

Anyway, 'The Spider and the Fly' is a wonderful story. I enjoy the spider’s smooth talking and persuasive words, and the little fly’s initial wariness and ultimate downfall. The rhythm is so playful with a sing-song quality, making it fun on the surface but with a dark undercurrent. It's so clever, I love it. Note that the spider’s line, 'Will you walk into my parlour?' has become quite famous as a symbol of an exciting but risky invitation - I've heard it used - I've probably used it myself in jest.

Howitt no doubt fully intended the story to carry a strong moral lesson - this was fashionable at the time - but it isn't rammed down your throat. Instead you are entertained by the dialogue between the two protagonists and only invited to reflect on the moral point at the very end. Beware of false promises; take care; don't be vain - we've all been there, so it rings true. It's a timeless tale - a real classic - and I hope you enjoy it...

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly,

"'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;

The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,

And I have many curious things to shew when you are there."

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."

"I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly.

"There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!"

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said,

They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, "Dear friend what can I do,

To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?

I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;

I'm sure you're very welcome–will you please to take a slice?"

"Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,

I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise,

How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!

I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,

If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to say,

And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,

For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:

So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,

And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.

Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,

"Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple–there's a crest upon your head;

Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,

Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,

Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue–

Thinking only of her crested head–poor foolish thing!

At last,Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,

Within his little parlour–but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:

Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.