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diff --git a/old/7ffab10.txt b/old/7ffab10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c56ae0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/7ffab10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16820 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Fables of La Fontaine, by Jean de La Fontaine +#27 in our series by Jean de La Fontaine + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Fables of La Fontaine + A New Edition, With Notes + +Author: Jean de La Fontaine + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7241] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 30, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + + + + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE + + +_Translated From The French_ + +By Elizur Wright. + + +_A New Edition, With Notes_ + +By J. W. M. Gibbs. + +1882 + + * * * * * + +PREFACE + +To The Present Edition, + +With Some Account Of The Translator. + +The first edition of this translation of La Fontaine's Fables appeared +in Boston, U.S., in 1841. It achieved a considerable success, and six +editions were printed in three years. Since then it has been allowed to +pass out of print, except in the shape of a small-type edition produced +in London immediately after the first publication in Boston, and the +present publishers have thought that a reprint in a readable yet popular +form would be generally acceptable. + +The translator has remarked, in the "Advertisement" to his original +edition (which follows these pages), on the singular neglect of La +Fontaine by English translators up to the time of his own work. Forty +years have elapsed since those remarks were penned, yet translations into +English of the _complete_ Fables of the chief among modern fabulists +are almost as few in number as they were then. Mr. George Ticknor (the +author of the "History of Spanish Literature," &c.), in praising Mr. +Wright's translation when it first appeared, said La Fontaine's was "a +book till now untranslated;" and since Mr. Wright so happily accomplished +his self-imposed task, there has been but one other complete translation, +viz., that of the late Mr. Walter Thornbury. This latter, however, seems +to have been undertaken chiefly with a view to supplying the necessary +accompaniment to the English issue of M. Dore's well-known designs for +the Fables (first published as illustrations to a Paris edition), and +existing as it does only in the large quarto form given to those +illustrations, it cannot make any claim to be a handy-volume edition. Mr. +Wright's translation, however, still holds its place as the best English +version, and the present reprint, besides having undergone careful +revision, embodies the corrections (but not the expurgations) of the +sixth edition, which differed from those preceding it. The notes too, +have, for the most part, been added by the reviser. + +Some account of the translator, who is still one of the living notables +of his nation, may not be out of place here. Elizur Wright, junior, is +the son of Elizur Wright, who published some papers in mathematics, but +was principally engaged in agricultural pursuits at Canaan, Litchfield +Co., Connecticut, U.S. The younger Elizur Wright was born at Canaan in +1804. He graduated at Yale College in 1826, and afterwards taught in a +school at Groton. In 1829, he became Professor of Mathematics in Hudson +College, from which post he went to New York in 1833, on being appointed +secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society. In 1838 he removed to the +literary centre of the United States, Boston, where he edited several +papers successively, and where he published his "La Fontaine;" which +thus, whilst, it still remains his most considerable work, was also one +of his earliest. How he was led to undertake it, he has himself narrated +in the advertisement to his first edition. But previously to 1841, the +date of the first publication of the complete "Fables," he tried the +effect of a partial publication. In 1839 he published, anonymously, a +little 12mo volume, "La Fontaine; A Present for the Young." This, as +appears from the title, was a book for children, and though the substance +of these few (and simpler) fables may be traced in the later and complete +edition, the latter shows a considerable improvement upon the work of his +"'prentice hand." The complete work was published, as we have said, in +1841. It appeared in an expensive and sumptuous form, and was adorned +with the French artist Grandville's illustrations--which had first +appeared only two years previously in the Paris edition of La Fontaine's +Fables, published by Fournier Aine. The book was well received both in +America and England, and four other editions were speedily called for. +The sixth edition, published in 1843, was a slightly expurgated one, +designed for schools. The expurgation, however, almost wholly consisted +of the omission bodily of five of the fables, whose places were, as Mr. +Wright stated in his preface, filled by six original fables of his own. +From his "Notice" affixed to this sixth edition, it seems evident that he +by no means relished the task, usually a hateful one, of expurgating his +author. Having, however, been urged to the task by "criticisms both +friendly and unfriendly" (as he says) he did it; and did it wisely, +because sparingly. But in his prefatory words he in a measure protests. +He says:--"In this age, distinguished for almost everything more than +sincerity, there are some people who would seem too delicate and refined +to read their Bibles." And he concludes with the appeal,--"But the +unsophisticated lovers of _nature_, who have not had the opportunity +to acquaint themselves with the French language, I have no doubt will +thank me for interpreting to them these honest and truthful fictions of +the frank old JEAN, and will beg me to proceed no farther in the work +of expurgation." The first of the substituted fables of the sixth +edition--_The Fly and the Game_, given below--may also be viewed as +a protest to the same purpose. As a specimen of Mr. Wright's powers at +once as an original poet and an original fabulist, we here print (for the +first time in England, we believe) the substituted fables of his sixth +edition. We may add, that they appeared in lieu of the following five +fables as given in Mr. Wright's complete edition--and in the present +edition:--_The Bitch and her Friend, The Mountain in Labour, The Young +Widow, The Women and the Secret_, and, _The Husband, the Wife, and +the Thief_. It should also be borne in mind that these original fables +were inserted in an edition professedly meant for schools rather than for +the general public. + + * * * * * + +THE FLY AND THE GAME. + + A knight of powder-horn and shot + Once fill'd his bag--as I would not, + Unless the feelings of my breast + By poverty were sorely press'd-- + With birds and squirrels for the spits + Of certain gormandizing cits. + With merry heart the fellow went + Direct to Mr. Centpercent, + Who loved, as well was understood, + Whatever game was nice and good. + This gentleman, with knowing air, + Survey'd the dainty lot with care, + Pronounced it racy, rich, and rare, + And call'd his wife, to know her wishes + About its purchase for their dishes. + The lady thought the creatures prime, + And for their dinner just in time; + So sweet they were, and delicate, + For dinner she could hardly wait. + But now there came--could luck be worse?-- + Just as the buyer drew his purse, + A bulky fly, with solemn buzz, + And smelt, as an inspector does, + This bird and that, and said the meat-- + But here his words I won't repeat-- + Was anything but fit to eat. + 'Ah!' cried the lady, 'there's a fly + I never knew to tell a lie; + His coat, you see, is bottle-green; + He knows a thing or two I ween; + My dear, I beg you, do not buy: + Such game as this may suit the dogs.' + So on our peddling sportsman jogs, + His soul possess'd of this surmise, + About some men, as well as flies: + A filthy taint they soonest find + Who are to relish filth inclined. + + + + +THE DOG AND CAT. + + A dog and cat, messmates for life, + Were often falling into strife, + Which came to scratching, growls, and snaps, + And spitting in the face, perhaps. + A neighbour dog once chanced to call + Just at the outset of their brawl, + And, thinking Tray was cross and cruel, + To snarl so sharp at Mrs. Mew-well, + Growl'd rather roughly in his ear. + 'And who are you to interfere?' + Exclaim'd the cat, while in his face she flew; + And, as was wise, he suddenly withdrew. + + It seems, in spite of all his snarling, + And hers, that Tray was still her darling. + + + + +THE GOLDEN PITCHER. + + A father once, whose sons were two, + For each a gift had much ado. + At last upon this course he fell: + 'My sons,' said he, 'within our well + Two treasures lodge, as I am told; + The one a sunken piece of gold,-- + A bowl it may be, or a pitcher,-- + The other is a thing far richer. + These treasures if you can but find, + Each may be suited to his mind; + For both are precious in their kind. + To gain the one you'll need a hook; + The other will but cost a look. + But O, of this, I pray, beware!-- + You who may choose the tempting share,-- + Too eager fishing for the pitcher + May ruin that which is far richer.' + + Out ran the boys, their gifts to draw: + But eagerness was check'd with awe, + How could there be a richer prize + Than solid gold beneath the skies? + Or, if there could, how could it dwell + Within their own old, mossy well? + Were questions which excited wonder, + And kept their headlong av'rice under. + The golden cup each fear'd to choose, + Lest he the better gift should lose; + And so resolved our prudent pair, + The gifts in common they would share. + The well was open to the sky. + As o'er its curb they keenly pry, + It seems a tunnel piercing through, + From sky to sky, from blue to blue; + And, at its nether mouth, each sees + A brace of their antipodes, + With earnest faces peering up, + As if themselves might seek the cup. + 'Ha!' said the elder, with a laugh, + 'We need not share it by the half. + The mystery is clear to me; + That richer gift to all is free. + Be only as that water true, + And then the whole belongs to you.' + + That truth itself was worth so much, + It cannot be supposed that such. + A pair of lads were satisfied; + And yet they were before they died. + But whether they fish'd up the gold + I'm sure I never have been told. + Thus much they learn'd, I take for granted,-- + And that was what their father wanted:-- + If truth for wealth we sacrifice, + We throw away the richer prize. + + + + +PARTY STRIFE. + + Among the beasts a feud arose. + The lion, as the story goes, + Once on a time laid down + His sceptre and his crown; + And in his stead the beasts elected, + As often as it suited them, + A sort of king _pro tem._,-- + Some animal they much respected. + At first they all concurr'd. + The horse, the stag, the unicorn, + Were chosen each in turn; + And then the noble bird + That looks undazzled at the sun. + But party strife began to run + Through burrow, den, and herd. + Some beasts proposed the patient ox, + And others named the cunning fox. + The quarrel came to bites and knocks; + Nor was it duly settled + Till many a beast high-mettled + Had bought an aching head, + Or, possibly, had bled. + The fox, as one might well suppose, + At last above his rival rose, + But, truth to say, his reign was bootless, + Of honour being rather fruitless. + All prudent beasts began to see + The throne a certain charm had lost, + And, won by strife, as it must be, + Was hardly worth the pains it cost. + So when his majesty retired, + Few worthy beasts his seat desired. + Especially now stood aloof + The wise of head, the swift of hoof, + The beasts whose breasts were battle-proof. + It consequently came to pass, + Not first, but, as we say, in fine, + For king the creatures chose the ass-- + He, for prime minister the swine. + + 'Tis thus that party spirit + Is prone to banish merit. + + + + +THE CAT AND THE THRUSH. + + A thrush that sang one rustic ode + Once made a garden his abode, + And gave the owner such delight, + He grew a special favourite. + Indeed, his landlord did his best + To make him safe from every foe; + The ground about his lowly nest + Was undisturb'd by spade or hoe. + And yet his song was still the same; + It even grew somewhat more tame. + At length Grimalkin spied the pet, + Resolved that he should suffer yet, + And laid his plan of devastation + So as to save his reputation; + For, in the house, from looks demure, + He pass'd for honest, kind, and pure. + Professing search of mice and moles, + He through the garden daily strolls, + And never seeks our thrush to catch; + But when his consort comes to hatch, + Just eats the young ones in a batch. + The sadness of the pair bereaved + Their generous guardian sorely grieved. + But yet it could not be believed + His faithful cat was in the wrong, + Though so the thrush said in his song. + The cat was therefore favour'd still + To walk the garden at his will; + And hence the birds, to shun the pest, + Upon a pear-tree built their nest. + Though there it cost them vastly more, + 'Twas vastly better than before. + And Gaffer Thrush directly found + His throat, when raised above the ground, + Gave forth a softer, sweeter sound. + New tunes, moreover, he had caught, + By perils and afflictions taught, + And found new things to sing about: + New scenes had brought new talents out. + So, while, improved beyond a doubt, + His own old song more clearly rang, + Far better than themselves he sang + The chants and trills of other birds; + He even mock'd Grimalkin's words + With such delightful humour that + He gain'd the Christian name of Cat. + + Let Genius tell in verse and prose. + How much to praise and friends it owes. + Good sense may be, as I suppose, + As much indebted to its foes. + + * * * * * + +In 1844 Mr. Wright wrote the Preface to the first collected edition of +the works of the poet J. G. Whittier; and soon after he seems to have +become completely absorbed in politics, and in the mighty anti-slavery +struggle, which constituted the greater part of the politics of the +United States in those and many succeeding years. He became a journalist +in the anti-slavery cause; and, in 1850, he wrote a trenchant answer to +Mr. Carlyle's then just published "Latter Day Pamphlets." Later on, +slavery having been at length abolished, he appeared as a writer in yet +another field, publishing several works, one as lately as 1877, on +life-assurance. + +London, 1881. + + * * * * * + +ADVERTISEMENT + +To The First Edition Of This Translation. + +[Boston, U.S.A., 1841.] + +Four years ago, I dropped into Charles de Behr's repository of foreign +books, in Broadway, New York, and there, for the first time, saw La +Fontaine's Fables. It was a cheap copy, adorned with some two hundred +woodcuts, which, by their worn appearance, betokened an extensive +manufacture. I became a purchaser, and gave the book to my little boy, +then just beginning to feel the intellectual magnetism of pictures. In +the course of the next year, he frequently tasked my imperfect knowledge +of French for the story which belonged to some favourite vignette. This +led me to inquire whether any English version existed; and, not finding +any, I resolved, though quite unused to literary exercises of the sort, +to cheat sleep of an hour every morning till there should be one. The +result is before you. If in this I have wronged La Fontaine, I hope the +best-natured of poets, as well as yourselves, will forgive me, and lay +the blame on the better qualified, who have so long neglected the task. +Cowper should have done it. The author of "John Gilpin," and the "Retired +Cat," would have put La Fontaine into every chimney-corner which resounds +with the Anglo-Saxon tongue.... To you who have so generously enabled me +to publish this work with so great advantages, and without selling the +copyright for the _promise_ of a song, I return my heartfelt thanks. +A hatchet-faced, spectacled, threadbare stranger knocked at your doors, +with a prospectus, unbacked by "the trade," soliciting your subscription +to a costly edition of a mere translation. It is a most inglorious, +unsatisfactory species of literature. The slightest preponderance of that +worldly wisdom which never buys a pig-in-a-poke would have sent him and +his translation packing. But a kind faith in your species got the better +in your case. You not only gave the hungry-looking stranger your good +wishes, but your good names. A list of those names it would delight me to +insert; and I should certainly do it if I felt authorized. As it is, I +hope to be pardoned for mentioning some of the individuals, who have not +only given their names, but expressed an interest in my enterprise which +has assisted me in its accomplishment. Rev. John Pierpont, Prof. George +Ticknor, Prof. Henry W. Longfellow, William H. Prescott, Esq., Hon. +Theodore Lyman, Prof. Silliman, Prof. Denison Olmsted, Chancellor Kent, +William C. Bryant, Esq., Dr. J. W. Francis, Hon. Peter A. Jay, Hon. +Luther Bradish, and Prof. J. Molinard, have special claims to my +gratitude.... + +The work--as it is, not as it ought to be--I commit to your kindness. I +do not claim to have succeeded in translating "the inimitable La +Fontaine,"--perhaps I have not even a right to say in his own language-- + + "J'ai du moins ouvert le chemin." + +However this may be, I am, gratefully, + +Your obedient servant, + +Elizur Wright, Jr. + +Dorchester, _September_, 1841. + + * * * * * + +A PREFACE, + +on + +Fable, The Fabulists, And La Fontaine. + +By The Translator. + +Human nature, when fresh from the hand of God, was full of poetry. Its +sociality could not be pent within the bounds of the actual. To the lower +inhabitants of air, earth, and water,--and even to those elements +themselves, in all their parts and forms,--it gave speech and reason. The +skies it peopled with beings, on the noblest model of which it could have +any conception--to wit, its own. The intercourse of these beings, thus +created and endowed,--from the deity kindled into immortality by the +imagination, to the clod personified for the moment,--gratified one of +its strongest propensities; for man may well enough be defined as the +historical animal. The faculty which, in after ages, was to chronicle the +realities developed by time, had at first no employment but to place on +record the productions of the imagination. Hence, fable blossomed and +ripened in the remotest antiquity. We see it mingling itself with the +primeval history of all nations. It is not improbable that many of the +narratives which have been preserved for us, by the bark or parchment of +the first rude histories, as serious matters of fact, were originally +apologues, or parables, invented to give power and wings to moral +lessons, and afterwards modified, in their passage from mouth to mouth, +by the well-known magic of credulity. The most ancient poets graced their +productions with apologues. Hesiod's fable of the Hawk and the +Nightingale is an instance. The fable or parable was anciently, as it is +even now, a favourite weapon of the most successful orators. When Jotham +would show the Shechemites the folly of their ingratitude, he uttered the +fable of the Fig-Tree, the Olive, the Vine, and the Bramble. When the +prophet Nathan would oblige David to pass a sentence of condemnation upon +himself in the matter of Uriah, he brought before him the apologue of the +rich man who, having many sheep, took away that of the poor man who had +but one. When Joash, the king of Israel, would rebuke the vanity of +Amaziah, the king of Judah, he referred him to the fable of the Thistle +and the Cedar. Our blessed Saviour, the best of all teachers, was +remarkable for his constant use of parables, which are but fables--we +speak it with reverence--adapted to the gravity of the subjects on which +he discoursed. And, in profane history, we read that Stesichorus put the +Himerians on their guard against the tyranny of Phalaris by the fable of +the Horse and the Stag. Cyrus, for the instruction of kings, told the +story of the fisher obliged to use his nets to take the fish that turned +a deaf ear to the sound of his flute. Menenius Agrippa, wishing to bring +back the mutinous Roman people from Mount Sacer, ended his harangue with +the fable of the Belly and the Members. A Ligurian, in order to dissuade +King Comanus from yielding to the Phocians a portion of his territory as +the site of Marseilles, introduced into his discourse the story of the +bitch that borrowed a kennel in which to bring forth her young, but, when +they were sufficiently grown, refused to give it up. + +In all these instances, we see that fable was a mere auxiliary of +discourse--an implement of the orator. Such, probably, was the origin of +the apologues which now form the bulk of the most popular collections. +Aesop, who lived about six hundred years before Christ, so far as we can +reach the reality of his life, was an orator who wielded the apologue +with remarkable skill. From a servile condition, he rose, by the force of +his genius, to be the counsellor of kings and states. His wisdom was in +demand far and wide, and on the most important occasions. The pithy +apologues which fell from his lips, which, like the rules of arithmetic, +solved the difficult problems of human conduct constantly presented to +him, were remembered when the speeches that contained them were +forgotten. He seems to have written nothing himself; but it was not long +before the gems which he scattered began to be gathered up in +collections, as a distinct species of literature. The great and good +Socrates employed himself, while in prison, in turning the fables of +Aesop into verse. Though but a few fragments of his composition have come +down to us, he may, perhaps, be regarded as the father of fable, +considered as a distinct art. Induced by his example, many Greek poets +and philosophers tried their hands in it. Archilocus, Alcaeus, Aristotle, +Plato, Diodorus, Plutarch, and Lucian, have left us specimens. +Collections of fables bearing the name of Aesop became current in the +Greek language. It was not, however, till the year 1447 that the large +collection which now bears his name was put forth in Greek prose by +Planudes, a monk of Constantinople. This man turned the life of Aesop +itself into a fable; and La Fontaine did it the honour to translate it as +a preface to his own collection. Though burdened with insufferable +puerilities, it is not without the moral that a rude and deformed +exterior may conceal both wit and worth. + +The collection of fables in Greek verse by Babrias was exceedingly +popular among the Romans. It was the favourite book of the Emperor +Julian. Only six of these fables, and a few fragments, remain; but they +are sufficient to show that their author possessed all the graces of +style which befit the apologue. Some critics place him in the Augustan +age; others make him contemporary with Moschus. His work was versified in +Latin, at the instance of Seneca; and Quinctilian refers to it as a +reading-book for boys. Thus, at all times, these playful fictions have +been considered fit lessons for children, as well as for men, who are +often but grown-up children. So popular were the fables of Babrias and +their Latin translation, during the Roman empire, that the work of +Phaedrus was hardly noticed. The latter was a freedman of Augustus, and +wrote in the reign of Tiberius. His verse stands almost unrivalled for +its exquisite elegance and compactness; and posterity has abundantly +avenged him for the neglect of contemporaries. La Fontaine is perhaps +more indebted to Phaedrus than to any other of his predecessors; and, +especially in the first six books, his style has much of the same curious +condensation. When the seat of the empire was transferred to Byzantium, +the Greek language took precedence of the Latin; and the rhetorician +Aphthonius wrote forty fables in Greek prose, which became popular. +Besides these collections among the Romans, we find apologues scattered +through the writings of their best poets and historians, and embalmed in +those specimens of their oratory which have come down to us. + +The apologues of the Greeks and Romans were brief, pithy, and +epigrammatic, and their collections were without any principle of +connection. But, at the same time, though probably unknown to them, the +same species of literature was flourishing elsewhere under a somewhat +different form. It is made a question, whether Aesop, through the +Assyrians, with whom the Phrygians had commercial relations, did not +either borrow his art from the Orientals, or lend it to them. This +disputed subject must be left to those who have a taste for such +inquiries. Certain it is, however, that fable flourished very anciently +with the people whose faith embraces the doctrine of metempsychosis. +Among the Hindoos, there are two very ancient collections of fables, +which differ from those which we have already mentioned, in having a +principle of connection throughout. They are, in fact, extended romances, +or dramas, in which all sorts of creatures are introduced as actors, and +in which there is a development of sentiment and passion as well as of +moral truth, the whole being wrought into a system of morals particularly +adapted to the use of those called to govern. One of these works is +called the _Pantcha Tantra_, which signifies "Five Books," or +Pentateuch. It is written in prose. The other is called the _Hitopadesa_, +or "Friendly Instruction," and is written in verse. Both are in the +ancient Sanscrit language, and bear the name of a Brahmin, Vishnoo +Sarmah,[1] as the author. Sir William Jones, who is inclined to make this +author the true Aesop of the world, and to doubt the existence of the +Phrygian, gives him the preference to all other fabulists, both in +regard to matter and manner. He has left a prose translation of the +_Hitopadesa_, which, though it may not fully sustain his enthusiastic +preference, shows it not to be entirely groundless. We give a sample +of it, and select a fable which La Fontaine has served up as the +twenty-seventh of his eighth book. It should be understood that the +fable, with the moral reflections which accompany it, is taken from the +speech of one animal to another. + +[1] _Vishnoo Sarmah_.--Sir William Jones has the name + _Vishnu-sarman_. He says, further, that the word + _Hitopadesa_ comes from _hita_, signifying fortune, + prosperity, utility, and _upadesa_, signifying advice, + the entire word meaning "salutary or amicable + instruction."--Ed. + +"Frugality should ever be practised, but not excessive parsimony; for see +how a miser was killed by a bow drawn by himself!" + +"How was that?" said Hiranyaca. + +"In the country of Calyanacataca," said Menthara, "lived a mighty hunter, +named Bhairaza, or Terrible. One day he went, in search of game, into a +forest on the mountains Vindhya; when, having slain a fawn, and taken it +up, he perceived a boar of tremendous size; he therefore threw the fawn +on the ground, and wounded the boar with an arrow; the beast, horribly +roaring, rushed upon him, and wounded him desperately, so that he fell, +like a tree stricken with an axe. + + * * * * * + +"In the meanwhile, a jackal, named Lougery, was roving in search of food; +and, having perceived the fawn, the hunter, and the boar, all three dead, +he said to himself, 'What a noble provision is here made for me!' + +"As the pains of men assail them unexpectedly, so their pleasures come in +the same manner; a divine power strongly operates in both. + +"'Be it so; the flesh of these three animals will sustain me a whole +month, or longer. + +"'A man suffices for one month; a fawn and a boar, for two; a snake, for +a whole day; and then I will devour the bowstring.' When the first +impulse of his hunger was allayed, he said, 'This flesh is not yet +tender; let me taste the twisted string with which the horns of this bow +are joined.' So saying, he began to gnaw it; but, in the instant when he +had cut the string, the severed bow leaped forcibly up, and wounded him +in the breast, so that he departed in the agonies of death. This I meant, +when I cited the verse, Frugality should ever be practised, &c. + + * * * * * + +"What thou givest to distinguished men, and what thou eatest every +day--that, in my opinion, is thine own wealth: whose is the remainder +which thou hoardest?" + +_Works of Sir William Jones_, vol. vi. pp. 35-37.[2] + +[2] Edition 1799, 6 vols., 4to.--Ed. + +It was one of these books which Chosroes, the king of Persia, caused to +be translated from the Sanscrit into the ancient language of his country, +in the sixth century of the Christian era, sending an embassy into +Hindostan expressly for that purpose. Of the Persian book a translation +was made in the time of the Calif Mansour, in the eighth century, into +Arabic. This Arabic translation it is which became famous under the title +of "The Book of Calila and Dimna, or the Fables of Bidpai."[3] + +[3] An English translation from the Arabic appeared in 1819, done by the + Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull. Sir William Jones says that the word + _Bidpaii_ signifies beloved, or favourite, physician. And he + adds that the word _Pilpay_, which has taken the place of + _Bidpaii_ in some editions of these fables, is the result + simply of a blunder in copying the word _Bidpaii_ from the + original. La Fontaine himself uses the word _Pilpay_ twice in + his Fables, viz., in Fables XII. and XV., Book XII.--Ed. + +Calila and Dimna are the names of two jackals that figure in the history, +and Bidpai is one of the principal human interlocutors, who came to be +mistaken for the author. This remarkable book was turned into verse by +several of the Arabic poets, was translated into Greek, Hebrew, Latin, +modern Persian, and, in the course of a few centuries, either directly or +indirectly, into most of the languages of modern Europe. + +Forty-one of the unadorned and disconnected fables of Aesop were also +translated into Arabic at a period somewhat more recent than the Hegira, +and passed by the name of the "Fables of Lokman." Their want of poetical +ornament prevented them from acquiring much popularity with the Arabians; +but they became well known in Europe, as furnishing a convenient +text-book in the study of Arabic. + +The _Hitopadesa_, the fountain of poetic fables, with its +innumerable translations and modifications, seems to have had the +greatest charms for the Orientals. As it passed down the stream of time, +version after version, the ornament and machinery outgrew the moral +instruction, till it gave birth, at last, to such works of mere amusement +as the "Thousand and One Nights." + +Fable slept, with other things, in the dark ages of Europe. Abridgments +took the place of the large collections, and probably occasioned the +entire loss of some of them. As literature revived, fable was +resuscitated. The crusades had brought European mind in contact with the +Indian works which we have already described, in their Arabic dress. +Translations and imitations in the European tongues were speedily +multiplied. The "Romance of the Fox," the work of Perrot de Saint Cloud, +one of the most successful of these imitations, dates back to the +thirteenth century. It found its way into most of the northern languages, +and became a household book. It undoubtedly had great influence over the +taste of succeeding ages, shedding upon the severe and satirical wit of +the Greek and Roman literature the rich, mellow light of Asiatic poetry. +The poets of that age were not confined, however, to fables from the +Hindoo source. Marie de France, also, in the thirteenth century, +versified one hundred of the fables of Aesop, translating from an English +collection, which does not now appear to be extant. Her work is entitled +the _Ysopet_, or "Little Aesop." Other versions, with the same +title, were subsequently written. It was in 1447 that Planudes, already +referred to, wrote in Greek prose a collection of fables, prefacing it +with a life of Aesop, which, for a long time, passed for the veritable +work of that ancient. In the next century, Abstemius wrote two hundred +fables in Latin prose, partly of modern, but chiefly of ancient +invention. At this time, the vulgar languages had undergone so great +changes, that works in them of two or three centuries old could not be +understood, and, consequently, the Latin became the favourite language of +authors. Many collections of fables were written in it, both in prose and +verse. By the art of printing these works were greatly multiplied; and +again the poets undertook the task of translating them into the language +of the people. The French led the way in this species of literature, +their language seeming to present some great advantages for it. One +hundred years before La Fontaine, Corrozet, Guillaume Gueroult, and +Philibert Hegemon, had written beautiful fables in verse, which it is +supposed La Fontaine must have read and profited by, although they had +become nearly obsolete in his time. It is a remarkable fact, that these +poetical fables should so soon have been forgotten. It was soon after +their appearance that the languages of Europe attained their full +development; and, at this epoch, prose seems to have been universally +preferred to poetry. So strong was this preference, that Ogilby, the +Scotch fabulist, who had written a collection of fables in English verse, +reduced them to prose on the occasion of publishing a more splendid +edition in 1668. It seems to have been the settled opinion of the critics +of that age, as it has, indeed, been stoutly maintained since, that the +ornaments of poetry only impair the force of the fable--that the Muses, +by becoming the handmaids of old Aesop, part with their own dignity +without conferring any on him. La Fontaine has made such an opinion +almost heretical. In his manner there is a perfect originality, and an +immortality every way equal to that of the matter which he gathered up +from all parts of the great storehouse of human experience. His fables +are like pure gold enveloped in solid rock-crystal. In English, a few of +the fables of Gay, of Moore, and of Cowper, may be compared with them in +some respects, but we have nothing resembling them as a whole. Gay, who +has done more than any other, though he has displayed great power of +invention, and has given his verse a flow worthy of his master, Pope, has +yet fallen far behind La Fontaine in the general management of his +materials. His fables are all beautiful poems, but few of them are +beautiful fables. His animal speakers do not sufficiently preserve their +animal characters. It is quite otherwise with La Fontaine. His beasts are +made most nicely to observe all the proprieties not only of the scene in +which they are called to speak, but of the great drama into which they +are from time to time introduced. His work constitutes an harmonious +whole. To those who read it in the original, it is one of the few which +never cloy the appetite. As in the poetry of Burns, you are apt to think +the last verse you read of him the best. + +But the main object of this Preface was to give a few traces of the life +and literary career of our poet. A remarkable poet cannot but have been a +remarkable man. Suppose we take a man with native benevolence amounting +almost to folly; but little cunning, caution, or veneration; good +perceptive, but better reflective faculties; and a dominant love of the +beautiful;--and toss him into the focus of civilization in the age of +Louis XIV. It is an interesting problem to find out what will become of +him. Such is the problem worked out in the life of JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, +born on the eighth of July, 1621, at Chateau-Thierry. His father, a man +of some substance and station, committed two blunders in disposing of his +son. First, he encouraged him to seek an education for ecclesiastical +life, which was evidently unsuited to his disposition. Second, he brought +about his marriage with a woman who was unfitted to secure his +affections, or to manage his domestic affairs. In one other point he was +not so much mistaken: he laboured unremittingly to make his son a poet. +Jean was a backward boy, and showed not the least spark of poetical +genius till his twenty-second year. His poetical genius did not ripen +till long after that time. But his father lived to see him all, and more +than all, that he had ever hoped.[4] + +[4] The Translator in his sixth edition replaced the next paragraph by + the following remarks:--"The case is apparently, and only apparently, + an exception to the old rule _Poeta nascitur, orator fit_--the + poet is born, the orator is made. The truth is, without exception, + that every poet is born such; and many are born such of whose poetry + the world knows nothing. Every known poet is also somewhat an + orator; and as to this part of his character, he is made. And many + are known as poets who are altogether made; they are mere + second-hand, or orator poets, and are quite intolerable unless + exceedingly well made, which is, unfortunately, seldom the case. It + would be wise in them to busy themselves as mere translators. Every + one who is born with propensities to love and wonder too strong and + deep to be worn off by repetition or continuance,--in other words, + who is born to be always young,--is born a poet. The other + requisites he has of course. Upon him the making will never be lost. + The richest gems do most honour to their polishing. But they are + gems without any. So there are men who pass through the world with + their souls full of poetry, who would not believe you if you were to + tell them so. Happy for them is their ignorance, perhaps. La + Fontaine came near being one of them. All that is artificial in + poetry to him came late and with difficulty. Yet it resulted from + his keen relish of nature, that he was never satisfied with his art + of verse till he had brought it to the confines of perfection. He + did not philosophize over the animals; he sympathized with them. A + philosopher would not have lost a fashionable dinner in his + admiration of a common ant-hill. La Fontaine did so once, because + the well-known little community was engaged in what he took to be a + funeral. He could not in decency leave them till it was over. + Verse-making out of the question, this was to be a genuine poet, + though, with commonplace mortals, it was also to be a fool." + +But we will first, in few words, despatch the worst--for there is a very +bad part--of his life. It was not specially _his_ life; it was the +life of the age in which he lived. The man of strong amorous +propensities, in that age and country, who was, nevertheless, faithful to +vows of either marriage or celibacy,--the latter vows then proved sadly +dangerous to the former,--may be regarded as a miracle. La Fontaine, +without any agency of his own affections, found himself married at the +age of twenty-six, while yet as immature as most men are at sixteen. The +upshot was, that his patrimony dwindled; and, though he lived many years +with his wife, and had a son, he neglected her more and more, till at +last he forgot that he had been married, though he unfortunately did not +forget that there were other women in the world besides his wife. His +genius and benevolence gained him friends everywhere with both sexes, who +never suffered him to want, and who had never cause to complain of his +ingratitude. But he was always the special favourite of the Aspasias who +ruled France and her kings. To please them, he wrote a great deal of fine +poetry, much of which deserves to be everlastingly forgotten. It must be +said for him, that his vice became conspicuous only in the light of one +of his virtues. His frankness would never allow concealment. He +scandalized his friends Boileau and Racine; still, it is matter of doubt +whether they did not excel him rather in prudence than in purity. But, +whatever may be said in palliation, it is lamentable to think that a +heaven-lighted genius should have been made, in any way, to minister to a +hell-envenomed vice, which has caused unutterable woes to France and the +world. Some time before he died, he repented bitterly of this part of his +course, and laboured, no doubt sincerely, to repair the mischiefs he had +done. + +As we have already said, Jean was a backward boy. But, under a dull +exterior, the mental machinery was working splendidly within. He lacked +all that outside care and prudence,--that constant looking out for +breakers,--which obstruct the growth and ripening of the reflective +faculties. The vulgar, by a queer mistake, call a man _absent-minded_, +when his mind shuts the door, pulls in the latch-string, and is +wholly at home. La Fontaine's mind was exceedingly domestic. It was +nowhere but at home when, riding from Paris to Chateau-Thierry, a bundle +of papers fell from his saddle-bow without his perceiving it. The +mail-carrier, coming behind him, picked it up, and overtaking La +Fontaine, asked him if he had lost anything. "Certainly not," he replied, +looking about him with great surprise. "Well, I have just picked up these +papers," rejoined the other. "Ah! they are mine," cried La Fontaine; +"they involve my whole estate." And he eagerly reached to take them. On +another occasion he was equally at home. Stopping on a journey, he +ordered dinner at an hotel, and then took a ramble about the town. On his +return, he entered another hotel, and, passing through into the garden, +took from his pocket a copy of Livy, in which he quietly set himself to +read till his dinner should be ready. The book made him forget his +appetite, till a servant informed him of his mistake, and he returned to +his hotel just in time to pay his bill and proceed on his journey. + +It will be perceived that he took the world quietly, and his doing so +undoubtedly had important bearings on his style. We give another +anecdote, which illustrates this peculiarity of his mind as well as the +superlative folly of duelling. Not long after his marriage, with all his +indifference to his wife, he was persuaded into a fit of singular +jealousy. He was intimate with an ex-captain of dragoons, by name +Poignant, who had retired to Chateau-Thierry; a frank, open-hearted man, +but of extremely little gallantry. Whenever Poignant was not at his inn, +he was at La Fontaine's, and consequently with his wife, when he himself +was not at home. Some person took it in his head to ask La Fontaine why +he suffered these constant visits. "And why," said La Fontaine, "should I +not? He is my best friend." "The public think otherwise," was the reply; +"they say that he comes for the sake of Madame La Fontaine." "The public +is mistaken; but what must I do in the case?" said the poet. "You must +demand satisfaction, sword in hand, of one who has dishonoured you." +"Very well," said La Fontaine, "I will demand it." The next day he called +on Poignant, at four o'clock in the morning, and found him in bed. +"Rise," said he, "and come out with me!" His friend asked him what was +the matter, and what pressing business had brought him so early in the +morning. "I shall let you know," replied La Fontaine, "when we get +abroad." Poignant, in great astonishment, rose, followed him out, and +asked whither he was leading. "You shall know by-and-by," replied La +Fontaine; and at last, when they had reached a retired place, he said, +"My friend, we must fight." Poignant, still more surprised, sought to +know in what he had offended him, and moreover represented to him that +they were not on equal terms. "I am a man of war," said he, "while, as +for you, you have never drawn a sword." "No matter," said La Fontaine; +"the public requires that I should fight you." Poignant, after having +resisted in vain, at last drew his sword, and, having easily made himself +master of La Fontaine's, demanded the cause of the quarrel. "The public +maintains," said La Fontaine, "that you come to my house daily, not for +my sake, but my wife's." "Ah! my friend," replied the other, "I should +never have suspected that was the cause of your displeasure, and I +protest I will never again put a foot within your doors." "On the +contrary," replied La Fontaine, seizing him by the hand, "I have +satisfied the public, and now you must come to my house, every day, or I +will fight you again." The two antagonists returned, and breakfasted +together in good-humour. + +It was not, as we have said, till his twenty-second year, that La +Fontaine showed any taste for poetry. The occasion was this:--An officer, +in winter-quarters at Chateau-Thierry, one day read to him, with great +spirit, an ode of Malherbe, beginning thus-- + + + + Que direz-vous, races futures, + Si quelquefois un vrai discours + Vous recite les aventures + De nos abominables jours? + +Or, as we might paraphrase it,-- + + What will ye say, ye future days, + If I, for once, in honest rhymes, + Recount to you the deeds and ways + Of our abominable times? + +La Fontaine listened with involuntary transports of joy, admiration, and +astonishment, as if a man born with a genius for music, but brought up in +a desert, had for the first time heard a well-played instrument. He set +himself immediately to reading Malherbe, passed his nights in learning +his verses by heart, and his days in declaiming them in solitary places. +He also read Voiture, and began to write verses in imitation. Happily, at +this period, a relative named Pintrel directed his attention to ancient +literature, and advised him to make himself familiar with Horace, Homer, +Virgil, Terence, and Quinctilian. He accepted this counsel. M. de +Maucroix, another of his friends, who cultivated poetry with success, +also contributed to confirm his taste for the ancient models. His great +delight, however, was to read Plato and Plutarch, which he did only +through translations. The copies which he used are said to bear his +manuscript notes on almost every page, and these notes are the maxims +which are to be found in his fables. Returning from this study of the +ancients, he read the moderns with more discrimination. His favourites, +besides Malherbe, were Corneille, Rabelais, and Marot. In Italian, he +read Ariosto, Boccaccio, and Machiavel. In 1654 he published his first +work, a translation of the _Eunuch_ of Terence. It met with no +success. But this does not seem at all to have disturbed its author. He +cultivated verse-making with as much ardour and good-humour as ever; and +his verses soon began to be admired in the circle of his friends. No man +had ever more devoted friends. Verses that have cost thought are not +relished without thought. When a genius appears, it takes some little +time for the world to educate itself to a knowledge of the fact. By one +of his friends, La Fontaine was introduced to Fouquet, the minister of +finance, a man of great power, and who rivalled his sovereign in wealth +and luxury. It was his pride to be the patron of literary men, and he was +pleased to make La Fontaine his poet, settling on him a pension of one +thousand francs per annum, on condition that he should produce a piece in +verse each quarter,--a condition which was exactly complied with till the +fall of the minister. + +Fouquet was a most splendid villain, and positively, though perhaps not +comparatively, deserved to fall. But it was enough for La Fontaine that +Fouquet had done him a kindness. He took the part of the disgraced +minister, without counting the cost. His "Elegy to the nymphs of Vaux" +was a shield to the fallen man, and turned popular hatred into sympathy. +The good-hearted poet rejoiced exceedingly in its success. _Bon-homme_ +was the appellation which his friends pleasantly gave him, and by +which he became known everywhere;--and never did a man better deserve it +in its best sense. He was good by nature--not by the calculation of +consequences. Indeed it does not seem ever to have occurred to him that +kindness, gratitude, and truth, could have any other than good +consequences. He was truly a Frenchman without guile, and possessed to +perfection that comfortable trait,--in which French character is commonly +allowed to excel the English,--_good-humour_ with the whole world. + +La Fontaine was the intimate friend of Moliere, Boileau, and Racine. +Moliere had already established a reputation; but the others became known +to the world at the same time. Boileau hired a small chamber in the +Faubourg Saint Germain, where they all met several times a week; for La +Fontaine, at the age of forty-four, had left Chateau-Thierry, and become +a citizen of Paris. Here they discussed all sorts of topics, admitting to +their society Chapelle, a man of less genius, but of greater +conversational powers, than either of them--a sort of connecting link +between them and the world. Four poets, or four men, could hardly have +been more unlike. Boileau was blustering, blunt, peremptory, but honest +and frank; Racine, of a pleasant and tranquil gaiety, but mischievous and +sarcastic; Moliere was naturally considerate, pensive, and melancholy; La +Fontaine was often absent-minded, but sometimes exceedingly jovial, +delighting with his sallies, his witty _naivetes_, and his arch +simplicity. These meetings, which no doubt had a great influence upon +French literature, La Fontaine, in one of his prefaces, thus +describes:--"Four friends, whose acquaintance had begun at the foot of +Parnassus, held a sort of society, which I should call an Academy, if +their number had been sufficiently great, and if they had had as much +regard for the Muses as for pleasure. The first thing which they did was +to banish from among them all rules of conversation, and everything which +savours of the academic conference. When they met, and had sufficiently +discussed their amusements, if chance threw them upon any point of +science or belles-lettres, they profited by the occasion; it was, +however, without dwelling too long on the same subject, flitting from one +thing to another like the bees that meet divers sorts of flowers on their +way. Neither envy, malice, nor cabal, had any voice among them. They +adored the works of the ancients, never refused due praise to those of +the moderns, spoke modestly of their own, and gave each other sincere +counsel, when any one of them--which rarely happened--fell into the +malady of the age, and published a book." + +The absent-mindedness of our fabulist not unfrequently created much +amusement on these occasions, and made him the object of mirthful +conspiracies. So keenly was the game pursued by Boileau and Racine, that +the more considerate Moliere felt obliged sometimes to expose and rebuke +them. Once, after having done so, he privately told a stranger, who was +present with them, the wits would have worried themselves in vain; they +could not have obliterated the _bon-homme_. + +La Fontaine, as we have said, was an admirer of Rabelais;--to what a +pitch, the following anecdote may show. At one of the meetings at +Boileau's were present Racine, Valincourt, and a brother of Boileau's, a +doctor of the Sorbonne. The latter took it upon him to set forth the +merits of St. Augustin in a pompous eulogium. La Fontaine, plunged in one +of his habitual reveries, listened without hearing. At last, rousing +himself as if from a profound sleep, to prove that the conversation had +not been lost upon him, he asked the doctor, with a very serious air, +whether he thought St. Augustin had as much wit as Rabelais. The divine, +surprised, looked at him from head to foot, and only replied, "Take care, +Monsieur La Fontaine;--you have put one of your stockings on wrong side +outwards"--which was the fact. + +It was in 1668 that La Fontaine published his first collection of fables, +under the modest title _Fables Choisies, mises en Vers_, in a quarto +volume, with figures designed and engraved by Chauveau. It contained six +books, and was dedicated to the Dauphin. Many of the fables had already +been published in a separate form. The success of this collection was so +great, that it was reprinted the same year in a smaller size. Fables had +come to be regarded as beneath poetry; La Fontaine established them at +once on the top of Parnassus. The ablest poets of his age did not think +it beneath them to enter the lists with him; and it is needless to say +they came off second best. + +One of the fables of the first book is addressed to the Duke de la +Rochefoucauld, and was the consequence of a friendship between La +Fontaine and the author of the celebrated "Maxims." Connected with the +duke was Madame La Fayette, one of the most learned and ingenious women +of her age, who consequently became the admirer and friend of the +fabulist. To her he wrote verses abundantly, as he did to all who made +him the object of their kind regard. Indeed, notwithstanding his avowed +indolence, or rather passion for quiet and sleep, his pen was very +productive. In 1669, he published "Psyche," a romance in prose and verse, +which he dedicated to the Duchess de Bouillon, in gratitude for many +kindnesses. The prose is said to be better than the verse; but this can +hardly be true in respect to the following lines, in which the poet under +the apt name of Polyphile, in a hymn addressed to Pleasure, undoubtedly +sketches himself:-- + + + Volupte, Volupte, qui fus jadis maitresse + Du plus bel esprit de la Grece, + Ne me dedaigne pas; viens-t'en loger chez moi: + Tu n'y seras pas sans emploi: + J'aime le jeu, l'amour, les livres, la musique, + La ville et la campagne, enfin tout; il n'est rien + Qui ne me soit souverain bien, + Jusqu'au sombre plaisir d'un coeur melancolique. + Viens donc.... + +The characteristic grace and playfulness of this seem to defy +translation. To the mere English reader, the sense may be roughly given +thus:-- + + Delight, Delight, who didst as mistress hold + The finest wit of Grecian mould, + Disdain not me; but come, + And make my house thy home. + Thou shalt not be without employ: + In play, love, music, books, I joy, + In town and country; and, indeed, there's nought, + E'en to the luxury of sober thought,-- + The sombre, melancholy mood,-- + But brings to me the sovereign good. + Come, then, &c. + +The same Polyphile, in recounting his adventures on a visit to the +infernal regions, tells us that he saw, in the hands of the cruel +Eumenides, + + ------Les auteurs de maint hymen force + L'amant chiche, et la dame au coeur interesse; + La troupe des censeurs, peuple a l'Amour rebelle; + Ceux enfin dont les vers ont noirci quelque belle. + + ------Artificers of many a loveless match, + And lovers who but sought the pence to catch; + The crew censorious, rebels against Love; + And those whose verses soiled the fair above. + +To be "rebels against Love" was quite unpardonable with La Fontaine; and +to bring about a "_hymen force_" was a crime, of which he probably +spoke with some personal feeling. The great popularity of "Psyche" +encouraged the author to publish two volumes of poems and tales in 1671, +in which were contained several new fables. The celebrated Madame de +Sevigne thus speaks of these fables, in one of her letters to her +daughter:--"But have you not admired the beauty of the five or six fables +of La Fontaine contained in one of the volumes which I sent you? We were +charmed with them the other day at M. de la Rochefoucauld's: we got by +art that of the Monkey and the Cat." Then, quoting some lines, she +adds,--"This is painting! And the Pumpkin--and the Nightingale--they are +worthy of the first volume!" It was in his stories that La Fontaine +excelled; and Madame de Sevigne expresses a wish to invent a fable which +would impress upon him the folly of leaving his peculiar province. He +seemed himself not insensible where his strength lay, and seldom ventured +upon any other ground, except at the instance of his friends. With all +his lightness, he felt a deep veneration for religion--the most spiritual +and rigid which came within the circle of his immediate acquaintance. He +admired Jansenius and the Port Royalists, and heartily loved Racine, who +was of their faith. Count Henri-Louis de Lomenie, of Brienne,--who, after +being secretary of state, had retired to the Oratoire,--was engaged in +bringing out a better collection of Christian lyrics. To this work he +pressed La Fontaine, whom he called his particular friend, to lend his +name and contributions. Thus the author of "Psyche," "Adonis," and +"Joconde," was led to the composition of pious hymns, and versifications +of the Psalms of David. Gifted by nature with the utmost frankness of +disposition, he sympathized fully with Arnauld and Pascal in the war +against the Jesuits; and it would seem, from his _Ballade sur Escobar_, +that he had read and relished the "Provincial Letters." This +ballad, as it may be a curiosity to many, shall be given entire:-- + +BALLADE SUR ESCOBAR. + + C'est a bon droit que l'on condamne a Rome + L'eveque d'Ypre [5], auteur de vains debats; + Ses sectateurs nous defendent en somme + Tous les plaisirs que l'on goute ici-bas. + En paradis allant au petit pas, + On y parvient, quoi qu'ARNAULD [6] nous en die: + La volupte sans cause il a bannie. + Veut-on monter sur les celestes tours, + Chemin pierreux est grande reverie, + ESCOBAR [7] sait un chemin de velours. + + Il ne dit pas qu'on peut tuer un homme + Qui sans raison nous tient en altercas + Pour un fetu ou bien pour une pomme; + Mais qu'on le peut pour quatre ou cinq ducats. + Meme il soutient qu'on peut en certains cas + Faire un serment plein de supercherie, + S'abandonner aux douceurs de la vie, + S'il est besoin conserver ses amours. + Ne faut-il pas apres cela qu'on crie: + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours? + + Au nom de Dieu, lisez-moi quelque somme + De ces ecrits don't chez lui l'on fait cas. + Qu'est-il besoin qu'a present je les nomme? + II en est tant qu'on ne les connoit pas. + De leurs avis servez-vous pour compas; + N'admettez qu'eux en votre librairie; + Brulez ARNAULD avec sa coterie, + Pres d'ESCOBAR ce ne sont qu'esprits lourds. + Je vous le dis: ce n'est point raillerie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. + + ENVOI. + + Toi, que l'orgueil poussa dans la voirie, + Qui tiens la-bas noire conciergerie, + Lucifer, chef des infernales cours, + Pour eviter les traits de ta furie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. + +[5] _Corneille Jansenius_,--the originator of the sect called + Jansenists. Though he was bishop of Ypres, his chief work, + "Augustinus," and his doctrines generally, were condemned by Popes + Urban VIII. and Innocent X., as heretical (1641 and 1653).--Ed. +[6] _Arnauld_.--This was Antoine Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, + and one of the Arnaulds famous among the Port Royalists, who were + Jansenists in opposition to the Jesuits. He was born in 1612, and + died a voluntary exile in Belgium, 1694. Boileau wrote his + epitaph.--Ed. +[7] _Escobar_.--A Spanish Jesuit, who flourished mostly in France, + and wrote against the Jansenists. Pascal, as well as La Fontaine, + ridiculed his convenient principles of morality, he "chemin de + velours," as La Fontaine puts it. His chief work in moral theology + was published in seven vols., folio, at Lyons, 1652-1663. He died in + 1669.--Ed. + +Thus does the _Bon-homme_ treat the subtle Escobar, the prince and +prototype of the moralists of _expediency_. To translate his artless +and delicate irony is hardly possible. The writer of this hasty Preface +offers the following only as an attempted imitation:-- + +BALLAD UPON ESCOBAR. + + Good cause has Rome to reprobate + The bishop who disputes her so; + His followers reject and hate + All pleasures that we taste below. + To heaven an easy pace may go, + Whatever crazy ARNAULD saith, + Who aims at pleasure causeless wrath. + Seek we the better world afar? + We're fools to choose the rugged path: + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + Although he does not say you can, + Should one with you for nothing strive, + Or for a trifle, kill the man-- + You can for ducats four or five. + Indeed, if circumstances drive, + Defraud, or take false oaths you may, + Or to the charms of life give way, + When Love must needs the door unbar. + Henceforth must not the pilgrim say, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR? + + Now, would to God that one would state + The pith of all his works to me. + What boots it to enumerate? + As well attempt to drain the sea!-- + Your chart and compass let them be; + All other books put under ban; + Burn ARNAULD and his rigid clan-- + They're blockheads if we but compare;-- + It is no joke,--I tell you, man, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + ADDRESS. + + Thou warden of the prison black, + Who didst on heaven turn thy back, + The chieftain of th' infernal war! + To shun thy arrows and thy rack, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + +The verses of La Fontaine did more for his reputation than for his purse. +His paternal estate wasted away under his carelessness; for, when the +ends of the year refused to meet, he sold a piece of land sufficient to +make them do so. His wife, no better qualified to manage worldly gear +than himself, probably lived on her family friends, who were able to +support her, and who seem to have done so without blaming him. She had +lived with him in Paris for some time after that city became his +abode; but, tiring at length of the city life, she had returned at +Chateau-Thierry, and occupied the family mansion. At the earnest +expostulation of Boileau and Racine, who wished to make him a better +husband, he returned to Chateau-Thierry himself, in 1666, for the purpose +of becoming reconciled to his wife. But his purpose strangely vanished. +He called at his own house, learned from the domestic, who did not know +him, that Madame La Fontaine was in good health, and passed on to the +house of a friend, where he tarried two days, and then returned to Paris +without having seen his wife. When his friends inquired of him his +success, with some confusion he replied, "I have been to see her, but I +did not find her: she was well." Twenty years after that, Racine +prevailed on him to visit his patrimonial estate, to take some care of +what remained. Racine, not hearing from him, sent to know what he was +about, when La Fontaine wrote as follows:--"Poignant, on his return from +Paris, told me that you took my silence in very bad part; the worse, +because you had been told that I have been incessantly at work since my +arrival at Chateau-Thierry, and that, instead of applying myself to my +affairs, I have had nothing in my head but verses. All this is no more +than half true: my affairs occupy me as much as they deserve to--that is +to say not at all; but the leisure which they leave me--it is not poetry, +but idleness, which makes away with it." On a certain occasion, in the +earlier part of his life, when pressed in regard to his improvidence, he +gaily produced the following epigram, which has commonly been appended to +his fables as "The Epitaph of La Fontaine, written by Himself":-- + + Jean s'en alla comme il etait venu, + Mangea le fonds avec le revenu, + Tint les tresors chose peu necessaire. + Quant a son temps, bien sut le dispenser: + Deux parts en fit, don't il souloit passer + L'urie a dormir, et l'autre a ne rien faire. + +This confession, the immortality of which was so little foreseen by its +author, liberally rendered, amounts to the following:-- + + John went as he came--ate his farm with its fruits, + Held treasure to be but the cause of disputes; + And, as to his time, be it frankly confessed, + Divided it daily as suited him best,-- + Gave a part to his sleep, and to nothing the rest. + +It is clear that a man who provided so little for himself needed good +friends to do it; and Heaven kindly furnished them. When his affairs +began to be straitened, he was invited by the celebrated Madame de la +Sabliere to make her house his home; and there, in fact, he was +thoroughly domiciliated for twenty years. "I have sent away all my +domestics," said that lady, one day; "I have kept only my dog, my cat, +and La Fontaine." She was, perhaps, the best-educated woman in France, +was the mistress of several languages, knew Horace and Virgil by heart, +and had been thoroughly indoctrinated in all the sciences by the ablest +masters. Her husband, M. Rambouillet de la Sabliere, was secretary to the +king, and register of domains, and to immense wealth united considerable +poetical talents, with a thorough knowledge of the world. It was the will +of Madame de la Sabliere, that her favourite poet should have no further +care for his external wants; and never was a mortal more perfectly +resigned. He did all honour to the sincerity of his amiable hostess; and, +if he ever showed a want of independence, he certainly did not of +gratitude. Compliments of more touching tenderness we nowhere meet than +those which La Fontaine has paid to his benefactress. He published +nothing which was not first submitted to her eye, and entered into her +affairs and friendships with all his heart. Her unbounded confidence in +his integrity she expressed by saying, "La Fontaine never lies in +prose." By her death, in 1693, our fabulist was left without a home; but +his many friends vied with each other which should next furnish one. He +was then seventy-two years of age, had turned his attention to personal +religion, and received the seal of conversion at the hands of the Roman +Catholic church. In his conversion, as in the rest of his life, his +frankness left no room to doubt his sincerity. The writings which had +justly given offence to the good were made the subject of a public +confession, and everything in his power was done to prevent their +circulation. The death of one who had done so much for him, and whose +last days, devoted with the most self-denying benevolence to the welfare +of her species, had taught him a most salutary lesson, could not but be +deeply felt. He had just left the house of his deceased benefactress, +never again to enter it, when he met M. d'Hervart in the street, who +eagerly said to him, "My dear La Fontaine, I was looking for you, to beg +you to come and take lodgings in my house." "I was going thither," +replied La Fontaine. A reply could not have more characteristic. The +fabulist had not in him sufficient hypocrisy of which to manufacture the +commonplace politeness of society. His was the politeness of a warm and +unsuspecting heart. He never concealed his confidence in the fear that it +might turn out to be misplaced. + +His second collection of fables, containing five books, La Fontaine +published in 1678-9, with a dedication to Madame de Montespan; the +previous six books were republished at the same time, revised, and +enlarged. The twelfth book was not added till many years after, and +proved, in fact, the song of the dying swan. It was written for the +special use of the young Duke de Bourgogne, the royal pupil of Fenelon, +to whom it contains frequent allusions. The eleven books now published +sealed the reputation of La Fontaine, and were received with +distinguished regard by the king, who appended to the ordinary protocol +or imprimatur for publication the following reasons: "in order to testify +to the author the esteem we have for his person and his merit, and +because youth have received great advantage in their education from the +fables selected and put in verse, which he has heretofore published." The +author was, moreover, permitted to present his book in person to the +sovereign. For this purpose he repaired to Versailles, and after having +well delivered himself of his compliment to royalty, perceived that he +had forgotten to bring the book which he was to present; he was, +nevertheless, favourably received, and loaded with presents. But it is +added, that, on his return, he also lost, by his absence of mind, the +purse full of gold which the king had given him, which was happily found +under a cushion of the carriage in which he rode. + +In his advertisement to the second part of his Fables, La Fontaine +informs the reader that he had treated his subjects in a somewhat +different style. In fact, in his first collection, he had timidly +confined himself to the brevity of Aesop and Phaedrus; but, having +observed that those fables were most popular in which he had given most +scope to his own genius, he threw off the trammels in the second +collection, and, in the opinion of the writer, much for the better. His +subjects, too, in the second part, are frequently derived from the Indian +fabulists, and bring with them the richness and dramatic interest of the +_Hitopadesa_. + +Of all his fables, the Oak and the Reed is said to have been the +favourite of La Fontaine. But his critics have almost unanimously given +the palm of excellence to the Animals sick of the Plague, the first of +the seventh book. Its exquisite poetry, the perfection of its dialogue, +and the weight of its moral, well entitle it to the place. That must have +been a soul replete with honesty, which could read such a lesson in the +ears of a proud and oppressive court. Indeed, we may look in vain through +this encyclopaedia of fable for a sentiment which goes to justify the +strong in their oppression of the weak. Even in the midst of the fulsome +compliments which it was the fashion of his age to pay to royalty, La +Fontaine maintains a reserve and decency peculiar to himself. By an +examination of his fables, we think, we might fairly establish for him +the character of an honest and disinterested lover and respecter of his +species. In his fable entitled Death and the Dying, he unites the genius +of Pascal and Moliere; in that of the Two Doves is a tenderness quite +peculiar to himself, and an insight into the heart worthy of Shakspeare. +In his Mogul's Dream are sentiments worthy of the very high-priest of +nature, and expressed in his own native tongue with a felicity which +makes the translator feel that all his labours are but vanity and +vexation of spirit. But it is not the purpose of this brief Preface to +criticize the Fables. It is sufficient to say, that the work occupies a +position in French literature, which, after all has been said that can be +for Gay, Moore, and other English versifiers of fables, is left quite +vacant in ours. + +Our author was elected a member of the French Academy in 1684, and +received with the honour of a public session. He read on this occasion a +poem of exquisite beauty, addressed to his benefactress, Madame de la +Sabliere. In that distinguished body of men he was a universal favourite, +and none, perhaps, did more to promote its prime object--the improvement +of the French language. We have already seen how he was regarded by some +of the greatest minds of his age. Voltaire, who never did more than +justice to merit other than his own, said of the Fables, "I hardly know a +book which more abounds with charms adapted to the people, and at the +same time to persons of refined taste. I believe that, of all authors, La +Fontaine is the most universally read. He is for all minds and all +ages." La Bruyere, when admitted to the Academy, in 1693, was warmly +applauded for his _eloge_ upon La Fontaine, which contained the +following words:--"More equal than Marot, and more poetical than Voiture, +La Fontaine has the playfulness, felicity, and artlessness of both. He +instructs while he sports, persuades men to virtue by means of beasts, +and exalts trifling subjects to the sublime; a man unique in his species +of composition, always original, whether he invents or translates,--who +has gone beyond his models, himself a model hard to imitate." + +La Fontaine, as we have said, devoted his latter days to religion. In +this he was sustained and cheered by his old friends Racine and De +Maucroix. Death overtook him while applying his poetical powers to the +hymns of the church. To De Maucroix he wrote, a little before his +death,--"I assure you that the best of your friends cannot count upon +more than fifteen days of life. For these two months I have not gone +abroad, except occasionally to attend the Academy, for a little +amusement. Yesterday, as I was returning from it, in the middle of the +Rue du Chantre, I was taken with such a faintness that I really thought +myself dying. O, my friend, to die is nothing: but think you how I am +going to appear before God! You know how I have lived. Before you receive +this billet, the gates of eternity will perhaps have been opened upon +me!" To this, a few days after, his friend replied,--"If God, in his +kindness, restores you to health, I hope you will come and spend the rest +of your life with me, and we shall often talk together of the mercies of +God. If, however, you have not strength to write, beg M. Racine to do me +that kindness, the greatest he can ever do for me. Adieu, my good, my +old, and my true friend. May God, in his infinite, goodness, take care of +the health of your body, and that of your soul." He died the 13th of +April, 1695, at the age of seventy-three, and was buried in the cemetery +of the Saints-Innocents. + +When Fenelon heard of his death, he wrote a Latin eulogium, which he gave +to his royal pupil to translate. "La Fontaine is no more!" said Fenelon, +in this composition; "he is no more! and with him have gone the playful +jokes, the merry laugh, the artless graces, and the sweet Muses." + + * * * * * + +THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE + + * * * * * + +To Monseigneur The Dauphin.[1] + + I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line, + Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, + Containeth truths it were not ill to teach. + With me all natures use the gift of speech; + Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach, + And to our human selves their sermons suit. + 'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute. + + Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies, + On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes, + Who hence shall count his conquests by his days, + And gather from the proudest lips his praise, + A louder voice than mine must tell in song + What virtues to thy kingly line belong. + I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes, + Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams; + And if to please thee shall not be my pride, + I'll gain at least the praise of having tried. + + +[1] This dedication prefaced La Fontaine's first collection of his + Fables, which comprised Books I. to VI., published in 1668. The + Dauphin was Louis, the only son of Louis XIV. and Marie-Therese of + Austria. He was born at Fontainebleau in 1661, and died at Meudon in + 1712, before his father, the "Grand Monarque," had ceased to reign. + The Dauphin being but a child, between six and seven years old, at + the time of this dedication, La Fontaine's act may be viewed rather + as an offering to the King, than to the child himself. See the + Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK I. + + +I.--THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.[1] + + A Grasshopper gay + Sang the summer away, + And found herself poor + By the winter's first roar. + Of meat or of bread, + Not a morsel she had! + So a begging she went, + To her neighbour the ant, + For the loan of some wheat, + Which would serve her to eat, + Till the season came round. + 'I will pay you,' she saith, + 'On an animal's faith, + Double weight in the pound + Ere the harvest be bound.' + The ant is a friend + (And here she might mend) + Little given to lend. + 'How spent you the summer?' + Quoth she, looking shame + At the borrowing dame. + 'Night and day to each comer + I sang, if you please.' + 'You sang! I'm at ease; + For 'tis plain at a glance, + Now, ma'am, you must dance.' + +[1] For the story of this fable, as for the stories of so many of the + fables which follow, especially in the first six books, La Fontaine + is indebted to the Father of Fable, Aesop the Phrygian. See account + of Aesop in the Translator's Preface. + + + + +II.--THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.[2] + + Perch'd on a lofty oak, + Sir Raven held a lunch of cheese; + Sir Fox, who smelt it in the breeze, + Thus to the holder spoke:-- + 'Ha! how do you do, Sir Raven? + Well, your coat, sir, is a brave one! + So black and glossy, on my word, sir, + With voice to match, you were a bird, sir, + Well fit to be the Phoenix of these days.' + Sir Raven, overset with praise, + Must show how musical his croak. + Down fell the luncheon from the oak; + Which snatching up, Sir Fox thus spoke:-- + 'The flatterer, my good sir, + Aye liveth on his listener; + Which lesson, if you please, + Is doubtless worth the cheese.' + A bit too late, Sir Raven swore + The rogue should never cheat him more. + +[2] Both Aesop and Phaedrus have a version of this fable. + + + + +III.--THE FROG THAT WISHED TO BE AS BIG AS THE OX.[3] + + The tenant of a bog, + An envious little frog, + Not bigger than an egg, + A stately bullock spies, + And, smitten with his size, + Attempts to be as big. + With earnestness and pains, + She stretches, swells, and strains, + And says, 'Sis Frog, look here! see me! + Is this enough?' 'No, no.' + 'Well, then, is this?' 'Poh! poh! + Enough! you don't begin to be.' + And thus the reptile sits, + Enlarging till she splits. + The world is full of folks + Of just such wisdom;-- + The lordly dome provokes + The cit to build his dome; + And, really, there is no telling + How much great men set little ones a swelling. + +[3] The story of this fable is given in Horace, _Satires_, II. 3, + Phaedrus and Corrozet have also versions of it. For an account of + Phaedrus and his Fables see the Translator's Preface. Gilles Corrozet + was one of the French fabulists immediately preceding La Fontaine. + He was a Parisian bookseller-author who lived between 1516 and 1568. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO MULES. + + Two mules were bearing on their backs, + One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.[4] + The latter glorying in his load, + March'd proudly forward on the road; + And, from the jingle of his bell, + 'Twas plain he liked his burden well. + But in a wild-wood glen + A band of robber men + Rush'd forth upon the twain. + Well with the silver pleased, + They by the bridle seized + The treasure-mule so vain. + Poor mule! in struggling to repel + His ruthless foes, he fell + Stabb'd through; and with a bitter sighing, + He cried, 'Is this the lot they promised me? + My humble friend from danger free, + While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying?' + 'My friend,' his fellow-mule replied, + 'It is not well to have one's work too high. + If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I, + Thou wouldst not thus have died.' + +[4] _The silver of the tax_.--An allusion to the French _gabelle_, or + old salt tax, which, like all taxes levied upon the mass of the + people, was a very productive one. Its collection caused several + peasants' insurrections. + + + + +V.--THE WOLF AND THE DOG.[5] + + A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin + (So strict the watch of dogs had been) + Hid little but his bones, + Once met a mastiff dog astray. + A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray, + No human mortal owns. + Sir Wolf in famish'd plight, + Would fain have made a ration + Upon his fat relation; + But then he first must fight; + And well the dog seem'd able + To save from wolfish table + His carcass snug and tight. + So, then, in civil conversation + The wolf express'd his admiration + Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely, + 'Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly; + Quit but the woods, advised by me. + For all your fellows here, I see, + Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, + Belike to die of haggard want. + With such a pack, of course it follows, + One fights for every bit he swallows. + Come, then, with me, and share + On equal terms our princely fare.' + 'But what with you + Has one to do?' + Inquires the wolf. 'Light work indeed,' + Replies the dog; 'you only need + To bark a little now and then, + To chase off duns and beggar men, + To fawn on friends that come or go forth, + Your master please, and so forth; + For which you have to eat + All sorts of well-cook'd meat-- + Cold pullets, pigeons, savoury messes-- + Besides unnumber'd fond caresses.' + The wolf, by force of appetite, + Accepts the terms outright, + Tears glistening in his eyes. + But faring on, he spies + A gall'd spot on the mastiff's neck. + 'What's that?' he cries. 'O, nothing but a speck.' + 'A speck?' 'Ay, ay; 'tis not enough to pain me; + Perhaps the collar's mark by which they chain me.' + 'Chain! chain you! What! run you not, then, + Just where you please, and when?' + 'Not always, sir; but what of that?' + 'Enough for me, to spoil your fat! + It ought to be a precious price + Which could to servile chains entice; + For me, I'll shun them while I've wit.' + So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet. + +[5] Phaedrus, III. 7.--The references to the Fables of Phaedrus are to + Bohn's edition, which is from the critical edition of Orellius, 1831. + + + + +VI.--THE HEIFER, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP, IN COMPANY WITH THE LION.[6] + + The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep, + Compacted their earnings in common to keep, + 'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd + Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade. + The goat, as it happen'd, a stag having snared, + Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared. + All gather'd; the lion first counts on his claws, + And says, 'We'll proceed to divide with our paws + The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws.' + This done, he announces part first as his own; + ''Tis mine,' he says, 'truly, as lion alone.' + To such a decision there's nought to be said, + As he who has made it is doubtless the head. + 'Well, also, the second to me should belong; + 'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong. + Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine. + To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign, + I'll choke him to death + In the space of a breath!' + +[6] Phaedrus, I. 5. From this fable come the French proverbial + expression, _la part du lion_, and its English equivalent, the + "lion's share." + + + + +VII.--THE WALLET.[7] + + From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, + 'Let all that live before my throne appear, + And there if any one hath aught to blame, + In matter, form, or texture of his frame, + He may bring forth his grievance without fear. + Redress shall instantly be given to each. + Come, monkey, now, first let us have your speech. + You see these quadrupeds, your brothers; + Comparing, then, yourself with others, + Are you well satisfied?' 'And wherefore not?' + Says Jock. 'Haven't I four trotters with the rest? + Is not my visage comely as the best? + But this my brother Bruin, is a blot + On thy creation fair; + And sooner than be painted I'd be shot, + Were I, great sire, a bear.' + The bear approaching, doth he make complaint? + Not he;--himself he lauds without restraint. + The elephant he needs must criticize; + To crop his ears and stretch his tail were wise; + A creature he of huge, misshapen size. + The elephant, though famed as beast judicious, + While on his own account he had no wishes, + Pronounced dame whale too big to suit his taste; + Of flesh and fat she was a perfect waste. + The little ant, again, pronounced the gnat too wee; + To such a speck, a vast colossus she. + Each censured by the rest, himself content, + Back to their homes all living things were sent. + Such folly liveth yet with human fools. + For others lynxes, for ourselves but moles. + Great blemishes in other men we spy, + Which in ourselves we pass most kindly by. + As in this world we're but way-farers, + Kind Heaven has made us wallet-bearers. + The pouch behind our own defects must store, + The faults of others lodge in that before. + +[7] One of Aesop's: Phaedrus also gives it, Book IV. 10. + + + + +VIII.--THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.[8] + + By voyages in air, + With constant thought and care, + Much knowledge had a swallow gain'd, + Which she for public use retain'd, + The slightest storms she well foreknew, + And told the sailors ere they blew. + A farmer sowing hemp, once having found, + She gather'd all the little birds around, + And said, 'My friends, the freedom let me take + To prophesy a little, for your sake, + Against this dangerous seed. + Though such a bird as I + Knows how to hide or fly, + You birds a caution need. + See you that waving hand? + It scatters on the land + What well may cause alarm. + 'Twill grow to nets and snares, + To catch you unawares, + And work you fatal harm! + Great multitudes I fear, + Of you, my birdies dear, + That falling seed, so little, + Will bring to cage or kettle! + But though so perilous the plot, + You now may easily defeat it: + All lighting on the seeded spot, + Just scratch up every seed and eat it.' + The little birds took little heed, + So fed were they with other seed. + Anon the field was seen + Bedeck'd in tender green. + The swallow's warning voice was heard again: + 'My friends, the product of that deadly grain, + Seize now, and pull it root by root, + Or surely you'll repent its fruit.' + 'False, babbling prophetess,' says one, + 'You'd set us at some pretty fun! + To pull this field a thousand birds are needed, + While thousands more with hemp are seeded.' + The crop now quite mature, + The swallow adds, 'Thus far I've fail'd of cure; + I've prophesied in vain + Against this fatal grain: + It's grown. And now, my bonny birds, + Though you have disbelieved my words + Thus far, take heed at last,-- + When you shall see the seed-time past, + And men, no crops to labour for, + On birds shall wage their cruel war, + With deadly net and noose; + Of flying then beware, + Unless you take the air, + Like woodcock, crane, or goose. + But stop; you're not in plight + For such adventurous flight, + O'er desert waves and sands, + In search of other lands. + Hence, then, to save your precious souls, + Remaineth but to say, + 'Twill be the safest way, + To chuck yourselves in holes.' + Before she had thus far gone, + The birdlings, tired of hearing, + And laughing more than fearing, + Set up a greater jargon + Than did, before the Trojan slaughter, + The Trojans round old Priam's daughter.[9] + And many a bird, in prison grate, + Lamented soon a Trojan fate. + + 'Tis thus we heed no instincts but our own; + Believe no evil till the evil's done. + +[8] Aesop. +[9] _Priam's daughter_.--Cassandra, who predicted the fall of Troy, and + was not heeded. + + + + +IX.--THE CITY RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.[10] + + A city rat, one night, + Did, with a civil stoop, + A country rat invite + To end a turtle soup. + + Upon a Turkey carpet + They found the table spread, + And sure I need not harp it + How well the fellows fed. + + The entertainment was + A truly noble one; + But some unlucky cause + Disturb'd it when begun. + + It was a slight rat-tat, + That put their joys to rout; + Out ran the city rat; + His guest, too, scamper'd out. + + Our rats but fairly quit, + The fearful knocking ceased. + 'Return we,' cried the cit, + To finish there our feast. + + 'No,' said the rustic rat; + 'To-morrow dine with me. + I'm not offended at + Your feast so grand and free,-- + + 'For I've no fare resembling; + But then I eat at leisure, + And would not swap, for pleasure + So mix'd with fear and trembling.' + +[10] Horace, _Satires_, II. 6: also in Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.[11] + + That innocence is not a shield, + A story teaches, not the longest. + The strongest reasons always yield + To reasons of the strongest. + + A lamb her thirst was slaking, + Once, at a mountain rill. + A hungry wolf was taking + His hunt for sheep to kill, + When, spying on the streamlet's brink + This sheep of tender age, + He howl'd in tones of rage, + 'How dare you roil my drink? + Your impudence I shall chastise!' + 'Let not your majesty,' the lamb replies, + 'Decide in haste or passion! + For sure 'tis difficult to think + In what respect or fashion + My drinking here could roil your drink, + Since on the stream your majesty now faces + I'm lower down, full twenty paces.' + 'You roil it,' said the wolf; 'and, more, I know + You cursed and slander'd me a year ago.' + 'O no! how could I such a thing have done! + A lamb that has not seen a year, + A suckling of its mother dear?' + 'Your brother then.' 'But brother I have none.' + 'Well, well, what's all the same, + 'Twas some one of your name. + Sheep, men, and dogs of every nation, + Are wont to stab my reputation, + As I have truly heard.' + Without another word, + He made his vengeance good-- + Bore off the lambkin to the wood, + And there, without a jury, + Judged, slew, and ate her in his fury. + +[11] Phaedrus, I. 1: also in Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.[12] + +To M. The Duke De La Rochefoucauld. + + A man, who had no rivals in the love + Which to himself he bore, + Esteem'd his own dear beauty far above + What earth had seen before. + More than contented in his error, + He lived the foe of every mirror. + Officious fate, resolved our lover + From such an illness should recover, + Presented always to his eyes + The mute advisers which the ladies prize;-- + Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops,-- + Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops,-- + Mirrors on every lady's zone,[13] + From which his face reflected shone. + What could our dear Narcissus do? + From haunts of men he now withdrew, + On purpose that his precious shape + From every mirror might escape. + But in his forest glen alone, + Apart from human trace, + A watercourse, + Of purest source, + While with unconscious gaze + He pierced its waveless face, + Reflected back his own. + Incensed with mingled rage and fright, + He seeks to shun the odious sight; + But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still, + He cannot leave, do what he will. + + Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see. + From such mistake there is no mortal free. + That obstinate self-lover + The human soul doth cover; + The mirrors follies are of others, + In which, as all are genuine brothers, + Each soul may see to life depicted + Itself with just such faults afflicted; + And by that charming placid brook, + Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book. + +[12] This is one of La Fontaine's most admired fables, and is one of the + few for which he did not go for the groundwork to some older + fabulist. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, to whom it was dedicated, + was the author of the famous "Reflexions et Maximes Morales," which + La Fontaine praises in the last lines of his fable. La + Rochefoucauld was La Fontaine's friend and patron. The "Maximes" + had achieved a second edition just prior to La Fontaine's + publication of this first series of his Fables, in 1668. "The + Rabbits" (Book X., Fable 15.), published in the second collection, + in 1678-9, is also dedicated to the Duke, who died the following + year, 1680. See Translator's Preface. +[13] _Lady's zone_.--One of La Fontaine's commentators remarks upon + this passage that it is no exaggeration of the foppishness of the + times in which the poet wrote, and cites the instance that the + canons of St. Martin of Tours wore mirrors on their shoes, even + while officiating in church. + + + + +XII.--THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND THE DRAGON WITH MANY TAILS.[14] + + An envoy of the Porte Sublime, + As history says, once on a time, + Before th' imperial German court[15] + Did rather boastfully report, + The troops commanded by his master's firman, + As being a stronger army than the German: + To which replied a Dutch attendant, + 'Our prince has more than one dependant + Who keeps an army at his own expense.' + The Turk, a man of sense, + Rejoin'd, 'I am aware + What power your emperor's servants share. + It brings to mind a tale both strange and true, + A thing which once, myself, I chanced to view. + I saw come darting through a hedge, + Which fortified a rocky ledge, + A hydra's hundred heads; and in a trice + My blood was turning into ice. + But less the harm than terror,-- + The body came no nearer; + Nor could, unless it had been sunder'd, + To parts at least a hundred. + While musing deeply on this sight, + Another dragon came to light, + Whose single head avails + To lead a hundred tails: + And, seized with juster fright, + I saw him pass the hedge,-- + Head, body, tails,--a wedge + Of living and resistless powers.-- + The other was your emperor's force; this ours.' + +[14] The original of this fable has been attributed to the chief who + made himself Emperor of Tartary and called himself Ghengis Khan + (b.1164, d. 1227). He is said to have applied the fable to the + Great Mogul and his innumerable dependent potentates. +[15] _German court_.--The court of the "Holy Roman Empire" is here meant. + + + + +XIII.--THE THIEVES AND THE ASS.[16] + + Two thieves, pursuing their profession, + Had of a donkey got possession, + Whereon a strife arose, + Which went from words to blows. + The question was, to sell, or not to sell; + But while our sturdy champions fought it well, + Another thief, who chanced to pass, + With ready wit rode off the ass. + + This ass is, by interpretation, + Some province poor, or prostrate nation. + The thieves are princes this and that, + On spoils and plunder prone to fat,-- + As those of Austria, Turkey, Hungary. + (Instead of two, I've quoted three-- + Enough of such commodity.) + These powers engaged in war all, + Some fourth thief stops the quarrel, + According all to one key, + By riding off the donkey. + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--SIMONIDES PRESERVED BY THE GODS.[17] + + Three sorts there are, as Malherbe[18] says, + Which one can never overpraise-- + The gods, the ladies, and the king; + And I, for one, endorse the thing. + The heart, praise tickles and entices; + Of fair one's smile, it oft the price is. + See how the gods sometimes repay it. + Simonides--the ancients say it-- + Once undertook, in poem lyric, + To write a wrestler's panegyric; + Which, ere he had proceeded far in, + He found his subject somewhat barren. + No ancestors of great renown; + His sire of some unnoted town; + Himself as little known to fame, + The wrestler's praise was rather tame. + The poet, having made the most of + Whate'er his hero had to boast of, + Digress'd, by choice that was not all luck's, + To Castor and his brother Pollux; + Whose bright career was subject ample, + For wrestlers, sure, a good example. + Our poet fatten'd on their story, + Gave every fight its place and glory, + Till of his panegyric words + These deities had got two-thirds. + All done, the poet's fee + A talent was to be. + But when he comes his bill to settle, + The wrestler, with a spice of mettle, + Pays down a third, and tells the poet, + 'The balance they may pay who owe it. + The gods than I are rather debtors + To such a pious man of letters. + But still I shall be greatly pleased + To have your presence at my feast, + Among a knot of guests select, + My kin, and friends I most respect.' + More fond of character than coffer, + Simonides accepts the offer. + While at the feast the party sit, + And wine provokes the flow of wit, + It is announced that at the gate + Two men, in haste that cannot wait, + Would see the bard. He leaves the table, + No loss at all to 'ts noisy gabble. + The men were Leda's twins, who knew + What to a poet's praise was due, + And, thanking, paid him by foretelling + The downfall of the wrestler's dwelling. + From which ill-fated pile, indeed, + No sooner was the poet freed, + Than, props and pillars failing, + Which held aloft the ceiling + So splendid o'er them, + It downward loudly crash'd, + The plates and flagons dash'd, + And men who bore them; + And, what was worse, + Full vengeance for the man of verse, + A timber broke the wrestler's thighs, + And wounded many otherwise. + The gossip Fame, of course, took care + Abroad to publish this affair. + 'A miracle!' the public cried, delighted. + No more could god-beloved bard be slighted. + His verse now brought him more than double, + With neither duns, nor care, nor trouble. + Whoe'er laid claim to noble birth + Must buy his ancestors a slice, + Resolved no nobleman on earth + Should overgo him in the price. + From which these serious lessons flow:-- + Fail not your praises to bestow + On gods and godlike men. Again, + To sell the product of her pain + Is not degrading to the Muse. + Indeed, her art they do abuse, + Who think her wares to use, + And yet a liberal pay refuse. + Whate'er the great confer upon her, + They're honour'd by it while they honour. + Of old, Olympus and Parnassus + In friendship heaved their sky-crown'd masses. + +[17] Phaedrus, IV. 24. +[18] _Malherbe_.--See note to Fable I., Book III. + + + + +XV.--DEATH AND THE UNFORTUNATE.[19] + + A poor unfortunate, from day to day, + Call'd Death to take him from this world away. + 'O Death' he said, 'to me how fair thy form! + Come quick, and end for me life's cruel storm.' + Death heard, and with a ghastly grin, + Knock'd at his door, and enter'd in + 'Take out this object from my sight!' + The poor man loudly cried. + 'Its dreadful looks I can't abide; + O stay him, stay him' let him come no nigher; + O Death! O Death! I pray thee to retire!' + + A gentleman of note + In Rome, Maecenas,[20] somewhere wrote:-- + "Make me the poorest wretch that begs, + Sore, hungry, crippled, clothed in rags, + In hopeless impotence of arms and legs; + Provided, after all, you give + The one sweet liberty to live: + I'll ask of Death no greater favour + Than just to stay away for ever." + +[19] Aesop. +[20] _Maecenas_.--Seneca's Epistles, CI. + + + + +XVI.--DEATH AND THE WOODMAN.[21] + + A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load, + Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd, + Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest, + Trudged wearily along his homeward road. + At last his wood upon the ground he throws, + And sits him down to think o'er all his woes. + To joy a stranger, since his hapless birth, + What poorer wretch upon this rolling earth? + No bread sometimes, and ne'er a moment's rest; + Wife, children, soldiers, landlords, public tax, + All wait the swinging of his old, worn axe, + And paint the veriest picture of a man unblest. + On Death he calls. Forthwith that monarch grim + Appears, and asks what he should do for him. + 'Not much, indeed; a little help I lack-- + To put these fagots on my back.' + + Death ready stands all ills to cure; + But let us not his cure invite. + Than die, 'tis better to endure,-- + Is both a manly maxim and a right. + +[21] Aesop: it is also in Corrozet's fables. + + + + +XVII.--THE MAN BETWEEN TWO AGES, AND HIS TWO MISTRESSES.[22] + + A man of middle age, whose hair + Was bordering on the grey, + Began to turn his thoughts and care + The matrimonial way. + By virtue of his ready, + A store of choices had he + Of ladies bent to suit his taste; + On which account he made no haste. + To court well was no trifling art. + Two widows chiefly gain'd his heart; + The one yet green, the other more mature, + Who found for nature's wane in art a cure. + These dames, amidst their joking and caressing + The man they long'd to wed, + Would sometimes set themselves to dressing + His party-colour'd head. + Each aiming to assimilate + Her lover to her own estate, + The older piecemeal stole + The black hair from his poll, + While eke, with fingers light, + The young one stole the white. + Between them both, as if by scald, + His head was changed from grey to bald. + 'For these,' he said, 'your gentle pranks, + I owe you, ladies, many thanks. + By being thus well shaved, + I less have lost than saved. + Of Hymen, yet, no news at hand, + I do assure ye. + By what I've lost, I understand + It is in your way, + Not mine, that I must pass on. + Thanks, ladies, for the lesson.' + +[22] Phaedrus, II.2: Aesop. + + + + +XVIII.--THE FOX AND THE STORK.[23] + + Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, + To dine old Mistress Stork. + The fare was light, was nothing, sooth to say, + Requiring knife and fork. + That sly old gentleman, the dinner-giver, + Was, you must understand, a frugal liver. + This once, at least, the total matter + Was thinnish soup served on a platter, + For madam's slender beak a fruitless puzzle, + Till all had pass'd the fox's lapping muzzle. + But, little relishing his laughter, + Old gossip Stork, some few days after, + Return'd his Foxship's invitation. + Without a moment's hesitation, + He said he'd go, for he must own he + Ne'er stood with friends for ceremony. + And so, precisely at the hour, + He hied him to the lady's bower; + Where, praising her politeness, + He finds her dinner right nice. + Its punctuality and plenty, + Its viands, cut in mouthfuls dainty, + Its fragrant smell, were powerful to excite, + Had there been need, his foxish appetite. + But now the dame, to torture him, + Such wit was in her, + Served up her dinner + In vases made so tall and slim, + They let their owner's beak pass in and out, + But not, by any means, the fox's snout! + All arts without avail, + With drooping head and tail, + As ought a fox a fowl had cheated, + The hungry guest at last retreated. + + Ye knaves, for you is this recital, + You'll often meet Dame Stork's requital. + +[23] Phaedrus, I. 26; also in Aesop. + + + + +XIX.--THE BOY AND THE SCHOOLMASTER.[24] + + Wise counsel is not always wise, + As this my tale exemplifies. + A boy, that frolick'd on the banks of Seine, + Fell in, and would have found a watery grave, + Had not that hand that planteth ne'er in vain + A willow planted there, his life to save. + While hanging by its branches as he might, + A certain sage preceptor came in sight; + To whom the urchin cried, 'Save, or I'm drown'd!' + The master, turning gravely at the sound, + Thought proper for a while to stand aloof, + And give the boy some seasonable reproof. + 'You little wretch! this comes of foolish playing, + Commands and precepts disobeying. + A naughty rogue, no doubt, you are, + Who thus requite your parents' care. + Alas! their lot I pity much, + Whom fate condemns to watch o'er such.' + This having coolly said, and more, + He pull'd the drowning lad ashore. + + This story hits more marks than you suppose. + All critics, pedants, men of endless prose,-- + Three sorts, so richly bless'd with progeny, + The house is bless'd that doth not lodge any,-- + May in it see themselves from head to toes. + No matter what the task, + Their precious tongues must teach; + Their help in need you ask, + You first must hear them preach. + +[24] A fable telling this story is in the collection of Arabic fables + which bear the name of Locman, or Lokman, a personage some identify + with Aesop himself. Lokman is said to have flourished about 1050 + B.C.; and even as the "Phrygian slave"--Aesop was said to have been + very ugly, so Lokman is described as "an ugly black slave." See + Translator's Preface. Rabelais also has a version of the story of + this fable, _vide Gargantua_, Book I. ch. xlii. + + + + +XX.--THE COCK AND THE PEARL.[25] + + A cock scratch'd up, one day, + A pearl of purest ray, + Which to a jeweller he bore. + 'I think it fine,' he said, + 'But yet a crumb of bread + To me were worth a great deal more.' + + So did a dunce inherit + A manuscript of merit, + Which to a publisher he bore. + ''Tis good,' said he, 'I'm told, + Yet any coin of gold + To me were worth a great deal more.' + +[25] Phaedrus, III. 11. + + + + +XXI.--THE HORNETS AND THE BEES.[26] + + "The artist by his work is known."-- + A piece of honey-comb, one day, + Discover'd as a waif and stray, + The hornets treated as their own. + Their title did the bees dispute, + And brought before a wasp the suit. + The judge was puzzled to decide, + For nothing could be testified + Save that around this honey-comb + There had been seen, as if at home, + Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, + Much like the bees in wings and features. + But what of that? for marks the same, + The hornets, too, could truly claim. + Between assertion, and denial, + The wasp, in doubt, proclaim'd new trial; + And, hearing what an ant-hill swore, + Could see no clearer than before. + 'What use, I pray, of this expense?' + At last exclaim'd a bee of sense. + 'We've labour'd months in this affair, + And now are only where we were. + Meanwhile the honey runs to waste: + 'Tis time the judge should show some haste. + The parties, sure, have had sufficient bleeding, + Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading. + Let's set ourselves at work, these drones and we, + And then all eyes the truth may plainly see, + Whose art it is that can produce + The magic cells, the nectar juice.' + The hornets, flinching on their part, + Show that the work transcends their art. + The wasp at length their title sees, + And gives the honey to the bees. + Would God that suits at laws with us + Might all be managed thus! + That we might, in the Turkish mode, + Have simple common sense for code! + They then were short and cheap affairs, + Instead of stretching on like ditches, + Ingulfing in their course all riches,-- + The parties leaving for their shares, + The shells (and shells there might be moister) + From which the court has suck'd the oyster.[27] + +[26] Phaedrus, III. 12. +[27] _The court has suck'd the oyster_.--The humorous idea of the + lawyers, the litigants, and the oyster, is more fully treated in + Fable IX., Book IX. + + + + +XXII.--THE OAK AND THE REED.[28] + + The oak one day address'd the reed:-- + 'To you ungenerous indeed + Has nature been, my humble friend, + With weakness aye obliged to bend. + The smallest bird that flits in air + Is quite too much for you to bear; + The slightest wind that wreathes the lake + Your ever-trembling head doth shake. + The while, my towering form + Dares with the mountain top + The solar blaze to stop, + And wrestle with the storm. + What seems to you the blast of death, + To me is but a zephyr's breath. + Beneath my branches had you grown, + That spread far round their friendly bower, + Less suffering would your life have known, + Defended from the tempest's power. + Unhappily you oftenest show + In open air your slender form, + Along the marshes wet and low, + That fringe the kingdom of the storm. + To you, declare I must, + Dame Nature seems unjust.' + Then modestly replied the reed: + 'Your pity, sir, is kind indeed, + But wholly needless for my sake. + The wildest wind that ever blew + Is safe to me compared with you. + I bend, indeed, but never break. + Thus far, I own, the hurricane + Has beat your sturdy back in vain; + But wait the end.' Just at the word, + The tempest's hollow voice was heard. + The North sent forth her fiercest child, + Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild. + The oak, erect, endured the blow; + The reed bow'd gracefully and low. + But, gathering up its strength once more, + In greater fury than before, + The savage blast + O'erthrew, at last, + That proud, old, sky-encircled head, + Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead![29] + +[28] The groundwork of this fable is in Aesop, and also in the Fables of + Avianus. Flavius Avianus lived in the fifth century. His Aesopian + Fables were written in Latin verse. Caxton printed "The Fables of + Avian, translated into Englyshe" at the end of his edition of Aesop. +[29] This fable and "The Animals Sick of the Plague" (Fable I., Book + VII.), are generally deemed La Fontaine's two best fables. "The Oak + and the Reed" is held to be the perfection of classical fable, + while "The Animals Sick of the Plague" is esteemed for its fine + poetic feeling conjoined with its excellent moral teaching. See + Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK II. + + +I.--AGAINST THE HARD TO SUIT.[1] + + Were I a pet of fair Calliope, + I would devote the gifts conferr'd on me + To dress in verse old Aesop's lies divine; + For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine; + But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, + I dare not arrogate the magic skill, + To ornament these charming stories. + A bard might brighten up their glories, + No doubt. I try,--what one more wise must do. + Thus much I have accomplish'd hitherto:-- + By help of my translation, + The beasts hold conversation, + In French, as ne'er they did before. + Indeed, to claim a little more, + The plants and trees,[2] with smiling features, + Are turn'd by me to talking creatures. + Who says, that this is not enchanting? + 'Ah,' says the critics, 'hear what vaunting! + From one whose work, all told, no more is + Than half-a-dozen baby stories.'[3] + Would you a theme more credible, my censors, + In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? + Then list! For ten long years the men of Troy, + By means that only heroes can employ, + Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay,-- + Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, + Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, + Their blood of thousand heroes, all in vain,-- + When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, + Of lofty size before their city stood, + Whose flanks immense the sage Ulysses hold, + Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, + Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine + Would bear within the fated town unseen, + To wreak upon its very gods their rage-- + Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. + Which well its crafty authors did repay.... + 'Enough, enough,' our critic folks will say; + 'Your period excites alarm, + Lest you should do your lungs some harm; + And then your monstrous wooden horse, + With squadrons in it at their ease, + Is even harder to endorse + Than Renard cheating Raven of his cheese. + And, more than that, it fits you ill + To wield the old heroic quill.' + Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is:-- + Long sigh'd and pined the jealous Amaryllis + For her Alcippus, in the sad belief, + None, save her sheep and dog, would know her grief. + Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, + And hears the gentle shepherdess's lips + Beseech the kind and gentle zephyr + To bear these accents to her lover.... + 'Stop!' says my censor: + 'To laws of rhyme quite irreducible, + That couplet needs again the crucible; + Poetic men, sir, + Must nicely shun the shocks + Of rhymes unorthodox.' + A curse on critics! hold your tongue! + Know I not how to end my song? + Of time and strength what greater waste + Than my attempt to suit your taste? + + Some men, more nice than wise, + There's nought that satisfies. + + +[1] Phaedrus, Book IV. 7. +[2] _The plants and trees_.--Aristotle's rule for pure fable is + that its _dramatis personae_ should be animals only--excluding + man. Dr. Johnson (writing upon Gay's Fables) agrees in this dictum + "generally." But hardly any of the fabulists, from Aesop downwards, + seem to have bound themselves by the rule; and in this fable we have + La Fontaine rather exulting in his assignment of speech, &c., not + only to the lower animals but to "plants and trees," &c., as well as + otherwise defying the "hard to suit," _i.e._, the critics. +[3] _Half-a-dozen baby stories_.--Here La Fontaine exalts his muse + as a fabulist. This is in reply to certain of his critics who + pronounced his work puerile, and pretended to wish him to adopt the + higher forms of poetry. Some of the fables of the first six Books + were originally published in a semi-private way before 1668. See the + Translators Preface. La Fontaine defends his art as a writer of + fables also in Book III. (Fable I.); Book V. (Fable I.); Book VI. + (Fable I.); Book VII. (Introduction); Book VIII. (Fable IV.), and + Book IX. (Fable I). + + + + +II.--THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS [4] + + Old Rodilard,[5] a certain cat, + Such havoc of the rats had made, + 'Twas difficult to find a rat + With nature's debt unpaid. + The few that did remain, + To leave their holes afraid, + From usual food abstain, + Not eating half their fill. + And wonder no one will + That one who made of rats his revel, + With rats pass'd not for cat, but devil. + Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater, + Who had a wife, went out to meet her; + And while he held his caterwauling, + The unkill'd rats, their chapter calling, + Discuss'd the point, in grave debate, + How they might shun impending fate. + Their dean, a prudent rat, + Thought best, and better soon than late, + To bell the fatal cat; + That, when he took his hunting round, + The rats, well caution'd by the sound, + Might hide in safety under ground; + Indeed he knew no other means. + And all the rest + At once confess'd + Their minds were with the dean's. + No better plan, they all believed, + Could possibly have been conceived, + No doubt the thing would work right well, + If any one would hang the bell. + But, one by one, said every rat, + 'I'm not so big a fool as that.' + The plan, knock'd up in this respect, + The council closed without effect. + + And many a council I have seen, + Or reverend chapter with its dean, + That, thus resolving wisely, + Fell through like this precisely. + + To argue or refute + Wise counsellors abound; + The man to execute + Is harder to be found. + +[4] Faerno and Abstemius both have fables upon this subject. Gabriel + Faerno (1500-1561) was an Italian writer who published fables in + Latin. Perrault translated these into French verse, and published + them at Paris in 1699. Faerno was also a famous editor of Terence. + Laurentius Abstemius, or Astemio, was an Italian fabulist of the + fifteenth century. After their first publication his fables often + appeared in editions of Aesop. +[5] _Rodilard_.--The name no doubt taken from the famous cat + Rodilardus (bacon-gnawer), in Rabelais, _Pantagruel_, IV., ch. LXVII. + + + + +III.--THE WOLF ACCUSING THE FOX BEFORE THE MONKEY.[6] + + A wolf, affirming his belief + That he had suffer'd by a thief, + Brought up his neighbour fox-- + Of whom it was by all confess'd, + His character was not the best-- + To fill the prisoner's box. + As judge between these vermin, + A monkey graced the ermine; + And truly other gifts of Themis[7] + Did scarcely seem his; + For while each party plead his cause, + Appealing boldly to the laws, + And much the question vex'd, + Our monkey sat perplex'd. + Their words and wrath expended, + Their strife at length was ended; + When, by their malice taught, + The judge this judgment brought: + 'Your characters, my friends, I long have known, + As on this trial clearly shown; + And hence I fine you both--the grounds at large + To state would little profit-- + You wolf, in short, as bringing groundless charge, + You fox, as guilty of it.' + + Come at it right or wrong, the judge opined + No other than a villain could be fined.[8] + +[6] Phaedrus, I. 10. +[7] _Themis_.--The goddess of Justice. +[8] So Philip of Macedon is said to have decided a suit by condemning + the defendant to banishment and the plaintiff to follow him. The + wisdom of each decision lies in taking advantage of a doubtful case + to convict two well-known rogues of--previous bad character. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG.[9] + + Two bulls engaged in shocking battle, + Both for a certain heifer's sake, + And lordship over certain cattle, + A frog began to groan and quake. + 'But what is this to you?' + Inquired another of the croaking crew. + 'Why, sister, don't you see, + The end of this will be, + That one of these big brutes will yield, + And then be exiled from the field? + No more permitted on the grass to feed, + He'll forage through our marsh, on rush and reed; + And while he eats or chews the cud, + Will trample on us in the mud. + Alas! to think how frogs must suffer + By means of this proud lady heifer!' + This fear was not without good sense. + One bull was beat, and much to their expense; + For, quick retreating to their reedy bower, + He trod on twenty of them in an hour. + + Of little folks it oft has been the fate + To suffer for the follies of the great. + +[9] Phaedrus, I. 30. + + + + +V.--THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.[10] + + A blundering bat once stuck her head + Into a wakeful weasel's bed; + Whereat the mistress of the house, + A deadly foe of rats and mice, + Was making ready in a trice + To eat the stranger as a mouse. + 'What! do you dare,' she said, 'to creep in + The very bed I sometimes sleep in, + Now, after all the provocation + I've suffer'd from your thievish nation? + Are you not really a mouse, + That gnawing pest of every house, + Your special aim to do the cheese ill? + Ay, that you are, or I'm no weasel.' + 'I beg your pardon,' said the bat; + 'My kind is very far from that. + What! I a mouse! Who told you such a lie? + Why, ma'am, I am a bird; + And, if you doubt my word, + Just see the wings with which I fly. + Long live the mice that cleave the sky!' + These reasons had so fair a show, + The weasel let the creature go. + + By some strange fancy led, + The same wise blunderhead, + But two or three days later, + Had chosen for her rest + Another weasel's nest, + This last, of birds a special hater. + New peril brought this step absurd; + Without a moment's thought or puzzle, + Dame weasel oped her peaked muzzle + To eat th' intruder as a bird. + 'Hold! do not wrong me,' cried the bat; + 'I'm truly no such thing as that. + Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers. + What makes a bird, I pray? Its feathers. + I'm cousin of the mice and rats. + Great Jupiter confound the cats!' + The bat, by such adroit replying, + Twice saved herself from dying. + + And many a human stranger + Thus turns his coat in danger; + And sings, as suits, where'er he goes, + 'God save the king!'--or 'save his foes!'[11] + +[10] Aesop. +[11] _Or save his foes!_--La Fontaine's last line is--"Vive le roi! + Vive la ligue!" conveying an allusion to the "Holy League" of the + French Catholic party, which, under the Guises, brought about the + war with Henry III. and the Huguenots, which ended, for a time, in + the edict of Nantes, promulgated by Henry IV. in 1598. + + + + +VI.--THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.[12] + + A bird, with plumed arrow shot, + In dying case deplored her lot: + 'Alas!' she cried, 'the anguish of the thought! + This ruin partly by myself was brought! + Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow + What wings to us the fatal arrow! + But mock us not, ye cruel race, + For you must often take our place.' + + The work of half the human brothers + Is making arms against the others. + +[12] Aesop. + + + + +VII.--THE BITCH AND HER FRIEND.[13] + + A bitch, that felt her time approaching, + And had no place for parturition, + Went to a female friend, and, broaching + Her delicate condition, + Got leave herself to shut + Within the other's hut. + At proper time the lender came + Her little premises to claim. + The bitch crawl'd meekly to the door, + And humbly begg'd a fortnight more. + Her little pups, she said, could hardly walk. + In short, the lender yielded to her talk. + The second term expired; the friend had come + To take possession of her house and home. + The bitch, this time, as if she would have bit her, + Replied, 'I'm ready, madam, with my litter, + To go when you can turn me out.' + Her pups, you see, were fierce and stout. + + The creditor, from whom a villain borrows, + Will fewer shillings get again than sorrows. + If you have trusted people of this sort, + You'll have to plead, and dun, and fight; in short, + If in your house you let one step a foot, + He'll surely step the other in to boot. + +[13] Phaedrus, I. 19. See the Translator's Preface. + + + + +VIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE.[14] + + John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, + Was making for his hole in haste, + When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow. + I leave you all to think + If such a little chink + Could to a rabbit give protection thorough. + But, since no better could be got, + John Rabbit there was fain to squat. + Of course, in an asylum so absurd, + John felt ere long the talons of the bird. + But first, the beetle, interceding, cried, + 'Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied, + That, maugre my protection, you can bear + My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air. + But do not give me such affront, I pray; + And since he craves your grace, + In pity of his case, + Grant him his life, or take us both away; + For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.' + In vain the beetle's friendly labour; + The eagle clutch'd her prey without reply, + And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, + Struck down our orator and still'd him; + The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him. + The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, + Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak, + Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest. + And while the bird was gone, + Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, + Not sparing one. + Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, + Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky. + But, by excess of passion blind, + Her enemy she fail'd to find. + Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate + To live a mourning mother, desolate. + The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; + The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again. + John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew. + The second mourning for her murder'd brood + Was such, that through the giant mountain wood, + For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. + The bird, once Ganymede, now made + Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; + And, laying them within his godship's lap, + She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap; + The god his own could not but make them-- + No wretch, would venture there to break them. + And no one did. Their enemy, this time, + Upsoaring to a place sublime, + Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, + Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, + Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. + When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event + Occurr'd by purest accident, + The eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her; + She gave out threats of leaving court, + To make the desert her resort, + And other brav'ries of this sort. + Poor Jupiter in silence heard + The uproar of his favourite bird. + Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, + And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd. + The god pronounced the eagle in the wrong. + But still, their hatred was so old and strong, + These enemies could not be reconciled; + And, that the general peace might not be spoil'd,-- + The best that he could do,--the god arranged, + That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed, + To come when beetle folks are only found + Conceal'd and dormant under ground. + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE LION AND THE GNAT.[15] + + 'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!' + Thus said the royal lion to the gnat. + The gnat declared immediate war. + 'Think you,' said he, 'your royal name + To me worth caring for? + Think you I tremble at your power or fame? + The ox is bigger far than you; + Yet him I drive, and all his crew.' + This said, as one that did no fear owe, + Himself he blew the battle charge, + Himself both trumpeter and hero. + At first he play'd about at large, + Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, + And there the royal beast full sorely nettled. + With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, + He roars. All creatures hide or fly,-- + Such mortal terror at + The work of one poor gnat! + With constant change of his attack, + The snout now stinging, now the back, + And now the chambers of the nose; + The pigmy fly no mercy shows. + The lion's rage was at its height; + His viewless foe now laugh'd outright, + When on his battle-ground he saw, + That every savage tooth and claw + Had got its proper beauty + By doing bloody duty; + Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, + And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side. + Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse! + He beat the harmless air, and worse; + For, though so fierce and stout, + By effort wearied out, + He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel. + The gnat retires with verdant laurel. + Now rings his trumpet clang, + As at the charge it rang. + But while his triumph note he blows, + Straight on our valiant conqueror goes + A spider's ambuscade to meet, + And make its web his winding-sheet. + + We often have the most to fear + From those we most despise; + Again, great risks a man may clear, + Who by the smallest dies. + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE ASS LOADED WITH SPONGES, AND THE ASS LOADED WITH SALT.[16] + + A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer, + His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing, + Drove on two coursers of protracted ear, + The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring; + The other lifting legs + As if he trod on eggs, + With constant need of goading, + And bags of salt for loading. + O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pass'd, + Till, coming to a river's ford at last, + They stopp'd quite puzzled on the shore. + Our asseteer had cross'd the stream before; + So, on the lighter beast astride, + He drives the other, spite of dread, + Which, loath indeed to go ahead, + Into a deep hole turns aside, + And, facing right about, + Where he went in, comes out; + For duckings two or three + Had power the salt to melt, + So that the creature felt + His burden'd shoulders free. + The sponger, like a sequent sheep, + Pursuing through the water deep, + Into the same hole plunges + Himself, his rider, and the sponges. + All three drank deeply: asseteer and ass + For boon companions of their load might pass; + Which last became so sore a weight, + The ass fell down, + Belike to drown, + His rider risking equal fate. + A helper came, no matter who. + The moral needs no more ado-- + That all can't act alike,-- + The point I wish'd to strike. + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE LION AND THE RAT.[17] + + To show to all your kindness, it behoves: + There's none so small but you his aid may need. + I quote two fables for this weighty creed, + Which either of them fully proves. + From underneath the sward + A rat, quite off his guard, + Popp'd out between a lion's paws. + The beast of royal bearing + Show'd what a lion was + The creature's life by sparing-- + A kindness well repaid; + For, little as you would have thought + His majesty would ever need his aid, + It proved full soon + A precious boon. + Forth issuing from his forest glen, + T' explore the haunts of men, + In lion net his majesty was caught, + From which his strength and rage + Served not to disengage. + The rat ran up, with grateful glee, + Gnaw'd off a rope, and set him free. + + By time and toil we sever + What strength and rage could never. + +[17] Aesop. In the original editions of La Fontaine's Fables, XI. and + XII. are printed together, and headed "Fables XI. et XII." + + + + +XII.--THE DOVE AND THE ANT.[18] + + The same instruction we may get + From another couple, smaller yet. + + A dove came to a brook to drink, + When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, + An ant fell in, and vainly tried, + In this, to her, an ocean tide, + To reach the land; whereat the dove, + With every living thing in love, + Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her, + By which the ant regain'd the shore. + + A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, + Soon after chanced this dove to spy; + And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, + The hungry codger doubted not + The bird of Venus, in his pot, + Would make a soup before the morrow. + Just as his deadly bow he drew, + Our ant just bit his heel. + Roused by the villain's squeal, + The dove took timely hint, and flew + Far from the rascal's coop;-- + And with her flew his soup. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THE ASTROLOGER WHO STUMBLED INTO A WELL.[19] + + To an astrologer who fell + Plump to the bottom of a well, + 'Poor blockhead!' cried a passer-by, + 'Not see your feet, and read the sky?' + + This upshot of a story will suffice + To give a useful hint to most; + For few there are in this our world so wise + As not to trust in star or ghost, + Or cherish secretly the creed + That men the book of destiny may read. + This book, by Homer and his pupils sung, + What is it, in plain common sense, + But what was chance those ancient folks among, + And with ourselves, God's providence? + Now chance doth bid defiance + To every thing like science; + 'Twere wrong, if not, + To call it hazard, fortune, lot-- + Things palpably uncertain. + But from the purposes divine, + The deep of infinite design, + Who boasts to lift the curtain? + Whom but himself doth God allow + To read his bosom thoughts? and how + Would he imprint upon the stars sublime + The shrouded secrets of the night of time? + And all for what? To exercise the wit + Of those who on astrology have writ? + To help us shun inevitable ills? + To poison for us even pleasure's rills? + The choicest blessings to destroy, + Exhausting, ere they come, their joy? + Such faith is worse than error--'tis a crime. + The sky-host moves and marks the course of time; + The sun sheds on our nicely-measured days + The glory of his night-dispelling rays; + And all from this we can divine + Is, that they need to rise and shine,-- + To roll the seasons, ripen fruits, + And cheer the hearts of men and brutes. + How tallies this revolving universe + With human things, eternally diverse? + Ye horoscopers, waning quacks, + Please turn on Europe's courts your backs, + And, taking on your travelling lists + The bellows-blowing alchemists, + Budge off together to the land of mists. + But I've digress'd. Return we now, bethinking + Of our poor star-man, whom we left a drinking. + Besides the folly of his lying trade, + This man the type may well be made + Of those who at chimeras stare + When they should mind the things that are. + +[19] Aesop. Diogenes Laertius tells the story of this fable of Thales of + Miletus. "It is said that once he (Thales) was led out of his house + by an old woman for the purpose of observing the stars, and he fell + into a ditch and bewailed himself. On which the old woman said to + him--'Do you, O Thales, who cannot see what is under your feet, + think that thou shalt understand what is in heaven?'"--_Diogenes + Laertius, Bohn's edition._ + + + + +XIV.--THE HARE AND THE FROGS.[20] + + Once in his bed deep mused the hare, + (What else but muse could he do there?) + And soon by gloom was much afflicted;-- + To gloom the creature's much addicted. + 'Alas! these constitutions nervous,' + He cried, 'how wretchedly they serve us! + We timid people, by their action, + Can't eat nor sleep with satisfaction; + We can't enjoy a pleasure single, + But with some misery it must mingle. + Myself, for one, am forced by cursed fear + To sleep with open eye as well as ear. + "Correct yourself," says some adviser. + Grows fear, by such advice, the wiser? + Indeed, I well enough descry + That men have fear, as well as I.' + With such revolving thoughts our hare + Kept watch in soul-consuming care. + A passing shade, or leaflet's quiver + Would give his blood a boiling fever. + Full soon, his melancholy soul + Aroused from dreaming doze + By noise too slight for foes, + He scuds in haste to reach his hole. + He pass'd a pond; and from its border bogs, + Plunge after plunge, in leap'd the timid frogs, + 'Aha! I do to them, I see,' + He cried, 'what others do to me. + The sight of even me, a hare, + Sufficeth some, I find, to scare. + And here, the terror of my tramp + Hath put to rout, it seems, a camp. + The trembling fools! they take me for + The very thunderbolt of war! + I see, the coward never skulk'd a foe + That might not scare a coward still below.' + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XV.--THE COCK AND THE FOX.[21] + + Upon a tree there mounted guard + A veteran cock, adroit and cunning; + When to the roots a fox up running, + Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard:-- + 'Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; + Henceforth I hope to live your friend; + For peace now reigns + Throughout the animal domains. + I bear the news:--come down, I pray, + And give me the embrace fraternal; + And please, my brother, don't delay. + So much the tidings do concern all, + That I must spread them far to-day. + Now you and yours can take your walks + Without a fear or thought of hawks. + And should you clash with them or others, + In us you'll find the best of brothers;-- + For which you may, this joyful night, + Your merry bonfires light. + But, first, let's seal the bliss + With one fraternal kiss.' + 'Good friend,' the cock replied, 'upon my word, + A better thing I never heard; + And doubly I rejoice + To hear it from your voice; + And, really there must be something in it, + For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter + Myself are couriers on this very matter. + They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. + I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing + With general kissing and caressing.' + 'Adieu,' said fox; 'my errand's pressing; + I'll hurry on my way, + And we'll rejoice some other day.' + So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, + To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, + Less happy in his stratagem than flight. + The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;-- + 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. + +[21] Aesop. + + + + +XVI.--THE RAVEN WISHING TO IMITATE THE EAGLE.[22] + + The bird of Jove bore off a mutton, + A raven being witness. + That weaker bird, but equal glutton, + Not doubting of his fitness + To do the same with ease, + And bent his taste to please, + Took round the flock his sweep, + And mark'd among the sheep, + The one of fairest flesh and size, + A real sheep of sacrifice-- + A dainty titbit bestial, + Reserved for mouth celestial. + Our gormand, gloating round, + Cried, 'Sheep, I wonder much + Who could have made you such. + You're far the fattest I have found; + I'll take you for my eating.' + And on the creature bleating + He settled down. Now, sooth to say, + This sheep would weigh + More than a cheese; + And had a fleece + Much like that matting famous + Which graced the chin of Polyphemus;[23] + So fast it clung to every claw, + It was not easy to withdraw. + The shepherd came, caught, caged, and, to their joy, + Gave croaker to his children for a toy. + + Ill plays the pilferer the bigger thief; + One's self one ought to know;--in brief, + Example is a dangerous lure; + Death strikes the gnat, where flies the wasp secure. + +[22] Aesop; and Corrozet. +[23] _Polyphemus_.--The Cyclop king: _vide_ Homer's Odyssey, Book IX. + + + + +XVII.--THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO.[24] + + The peacock[25] to the queen of heaven + Complain'd in some such words:-- + 'Great goddess, you have given + To me, the laughing-stock of birds, + A voice which fills, by taste quite just, + All nature with disgust; + Whereas that little paltry thing, + The nightingale, pours from her throat + So sweet and ravishing a note, + She bears alone the honours of the spring.' + + In anger Juno heard, + And cried, 'Shame on you, jealous bird! + Grudge you the nightingale her voice, + Who in the rainbow neck rejoice, + Than costliest silks more richly tinted, + In charms of grace and form unstinted,-- + Who strut in kingly pride, + Your glorious tail spread wide + With brilliants which in sheen do + Outshine the jeweller's bow window? + Is there a bird beneath the blue + That has more charms than you? + No animal in everything can shine. + By just partition of our gifts divine, + Each has its full and proper share; + Among the birds that cleave the air, + The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave one, + For omens serves the hoarse old raven, + The rook's of coming ills the prophet; + And if there's any discontent, + I've heard not of it. + + 'Cease, then, your envious complaint; + Or I, instead of making up your lack, + Will take your boasted plumage from your back.' + +[24] Phaedrus, III. 17. +[25] The peacock was consecrated to Juno the "Queen of Heaven," and was + under her protection. + + + + +XVIII.--THE CAT METAMORPHOSED INTO A WOMAN.[26] + + A bachelor caress'd his cat, + A darling, fair, and delicate; + So deep in love, he thought her mew + The sweetest voice he ever knew. + By prayers, and tears, and magic art, + The man got Fate to take his part; + And, lo! one morning at his side + His cat, transform'd, became his bride. + In wedded state our man was seen + The fool in courtship he had been. + No lover e'er was so bewitch'd + By any maiden's charms + As was this husband, so enrich'd + By hers within his arms. + He praised her beauties, this and that, + And saw there nothing of the cat. + In short, by passion's aid, he + Thought her a perfect lady. + + 'Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice + Disturb'd the nuptial joys. + Excited by the noise, + The bride sprang at them in a trice; + The mice were scared and fled. + The bride, scarce in her bed, + The gnawing heard, and sprang again,-- + And this time not in vain, + For, in this novel form array'd, + Of her the mice were less afraid. + Through life she loved this mousing course, + So great is stubborn nature's force. + + In mockery of change, the old + Will keep their youthful bent. + When once the cloth has got its fold, + The smelling-pot its scent, + In vain your efforts and your care + To make them other than they are. + To work reform, do what you will, + Old habit will be habit still. + Nor fork[27] nor strap can mend its manners, + Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners. + Secure the doors against the renter, + And through the windows it will enter. + +[26] Aesop. +[27] Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.--Hor. Epist. Bk. I. + 10.--Translator. + + + + +XIX.--THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING.[28] + + The king of animals, with royal grace, + Would celebrate his birthday in the chase. + 'Twas not with bow and arrows, + To slay some wretched sparrows; + The lion hunts the wild boar of the wood, + The antlered deer and stags, the fat and good. + This time, the king, t' insure success, + Took for his aide-de-camp an ass, + A creature of stentorian voice, + That felt much honour'd by the choice. + The lion hid him in a proper station, + And order'd him to bray, for his vocation, + Assured that his tempestuous cry + The boldest beasts would terrify, + And cause them from their lairs to fly. + And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made + Did strike the tenants of the wood with dread; + And, as they headlong fled, + All fell within the lion's ambuscade. + 'Has not my service glorious + Made both of us victorious?' + Cried out the much-elated ass. + 'Yes,' said the lion; 'bravely bray'd! + Had I not known yourself and race, + I should have been myself afraid!' + If he had dared, the donkey + Had shown himself right spunky + At this retort, though justly made; + For who could suffer boasts to pass + So ill-befitting to an ass? + +[28] Phaedrus, I. 11: Aesop. + + + + +XX.--THE WILL EXPLAINED BY AESOP.[29] + + If what old story says of Aesop's true, + The oracle of Greece he was, + And more than Areopagus[30] he knew, + With all its wisdom in the laws. + The following tale gives but a sample + Of what has made his fame so ample. + Three daughters shared a father's purse, + Of habits totally diverse. + The first, bewitched with drinks delicious; + The next, coquettish and capricious; + The third, supremely avaricious. + The sire, expectant of his fate, + Bequeathed his whole estate, + In equal shares, to them, + And to their mother just the same,-- + To her then payable, and not before, + Each daughter should possess her part no more. + The father died. The females three + Were much in haste the will to see. + They read, and read, but still + Saw not the willer's will. + For could it well be understood + That each of this sweet sisterhood, + When she possess'd her part no more, + Should to her mother pay it o'er? + 'Twas surely not so easy saying + How lack of means would help the paying. + What meant their honour'd father, then? + Th' affair was brought to legal men, + Who, after turning o'er the case + Some hundred thousand different ways, + Threw down the learned bonnet, + Unable to decide upon it; + And then advised the heirs, + Without more thought, t' adjust affairs. + As to the widow's share, the counsel say, + 'We hold it just the daughters each should pay + One third to her upon demand, + Should she not choose to have it stand + Commuted as a life annuity, + Paid from her husband's death, with due congruity.' + The thing thus order'd, the estate + Is duly cut in portions three. + And in the first they all agree + To put the feasting-lodges, plate, + Luxurious cooling mugs, + Enormous liquor jugs, + Rich cupboards,--built beneath the trellised vine,-- + The stores of ancient, sweet Malvoisian wine, + The slaves to serve it at a sign; + In short, whatever, in a great house, + There is of feasting apparatus. + The second part is made + Of what might help the jilting trade-- + The city house and furniture, + Exquisite and genteel, be sure, + The eunuchs, milliners, and laces, + The jewels, shawls, and costly dresses. + The third is made of household stuff, + More vulgar, rude, and rough-- + Farms, fences, flocks, and fodder, + And men and beasts to turn the sod o'er. + This done, since it was thought + To give the parts by lot + Might suit, or it might not, + Each paid her share of fees dear, + And took the part that pleased her. + 'Twas in great Athens town, + Such judgment gave the gown. + And there the public voice + Applauded both the judgment and the choice. + But Aesop well was satisfied + The learned men had set aside, + In judging thus the testament, + The very gist of its intent. + 'The dead,' quoth he, 'could he but know of it, + Would heap reproaches on such Attic wit. + What! men who proudly take their place + As sages of the human race, + Lack they the simple skill + To settle such a will?' + This said, he undertook himself + The task of portioning the pelf; + And straightway gave each maid the part + The least according to her heart-- + The prim coquette, the drinking stuff, + The drinker, then, the farms and cattle; + And on the miser, rude and rough, + The robes and lace did Aesop settle; + For thus, he said, 'an early date + Would see the sisters alienate + Their several shares of the estate. + No motive now in maidenhood to tarry, + They all would seek, post haste, to marry; + And, having each a splendid bait, + Each soon would find a well-bred mate; + And, leaving thus their father's goods intact, + Would to their mother pay them all, in fact,'-- + Which of the testament + Was plainly the intent. + The people, who had thought a slave an ass, + Much wonder'd how it came to pass + That one alone should have more sense + Than all their men of most pretence. + +[29] Phaedrus, IV. 5. +[30] _Areopagus._--This was the Athenian Court of Justice at Mars Hill. + It is said to have been called _Areiopagos_ (the Hill of Mars) + because, according to tradition, the first trial there was that of + Mars for the murder of Halirrhotius. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK III. + + +I.--THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THE ASS [1] + +To M. De Maucroix.[2] + + Because the arts are plainly birthright matters, + For fables we to ancient Greece are debtors; + But still this field could not be reap'd so clean + As not to let us, later comers, glean. + The fiction-world hath deserts yet to dare, + And, daily, authors make discoveries there. + I'd fain repeat one which our man of song, + Old Malherbe, told one day to young Racan.[3] + Of Horace they the rivals and the heirs, + Apollo's pets,--my masters, I should say,-- + Sole by themselves were met, I'm told, one day, + Confiding each to each their thoughts and cares. + Racan begins:--'Pray end my inward strife, + For well you know, my friend, what's what in life, + Who through its varied course, from stage to stage, + Have stored the full experience of age; + What shall I do? 'Tis time I chose profession. + You know my fortune, birth, and disposition. + Ought I to make the country my resort, + Or seek the army, or to rise at court? + There's nought but mixeth bitterness with charms; + War hath its pleasures; hymen, its alarms. + 'Twere nothing hard to take my natural bent,-- + But I've a world of people to content.' + 'Content a world!' old Malherbe cries; 'who can, sir? + Why, let me tell a story ere I answer.' + + 'A miller and his son, I've somewhere read, + The first in years, the other but a lad,-- + A fine, smart boy, however, I should say,-- + To sell their ass went to a fair one day. + In order there to get the highest price, + They needs must keep their donkey fresh and nice; + So, tying fast his feet, they swung him clear, + And bore him hanging like a chandelier. + Alas! poor, simple-minded country fellows! + The first that sees their load, loud laughing, bellows, + "What farce is this to split good people's sides? + The most an ass is not the one that rides!" + The miller, much enlighten'd by this talk, + Untied his precious beast, and made him walk. + The ass, who liked the other mode of travel, + Bray'd some complaint at trudging on the gravel; + Whereat, not understanding well the beast, + The miller caused his hopeful son to ride, + And walk'd behind, without a spark of pride. + Three merchants pass'd, and, mightily displeased, + The eldest of these gentlemen cried out, + "Ho there! dismount, for shame, you lubber lout! + Nor make a foot-boy of your grey-beard sire; + Change places, as the rights of age require." + "To please you, sirs," the miller said, "I ought." + So down the young and up the old man got. + Three girls next passing, "What a shame!" says one, + "That boy should be obliged on foot to run, + While that old chap, upon his ass astride, + Should play the calf, and like a bishop ride!" + "Please save your wit," the miller made reply, + "Tough veal, my girls, the calf as old as I." + But joke on joke repeated changed his mind; + So up he took, at last, his son behind. + Not thirty yards ahead, another set + Found fault. "The biggest fools I ever met," + Says one of them, "such burdens to impose. + The ass is faint, and dying with their blows. + Is this, indeed, the mercy which these rustics + Show to their honest, faithful, old domestics? + If to the fair these lazy fellows ride, + 'Twill be to sell thereat the donkey's hide!" + "Zounds!" cried the miller, "precious little brains + Hath he who takes, to please the world, such pains; + But since we're in, we'll try what can be done." + So off the ass they jump'd, himself and son, + And, like a prelate, donkey march'd alone. + Another man they met. "These folks," said he, + "Enslave themselves to let their ass go free-- + The darling brute! If I might be so bold, + I'd counsel them to have him set in gold. + Not so went Nicholas his Jane[4] to woo, + Who rode, we sing, his ass to save his shoe." + "Ass! ass!" our man replied; "we're asses three! + I do avow myself an ass to be; + But since my sage advisers can't agree, + Their words henceforth shall not be heeded; + I'll suit myself." And he succeeded. + + 'For you, choose army, love, or court; + In town, or country, make resort; + Take wife, or cowl; ride you, or walk; + Doubt not but tongues will have their talk.' + +[1] The story of this fable has been used by most of the fabulists, from + Aesop downwards. +[2] In the original editions this fable is dedicated "A. M. D. M." which + initials stand for "To M. De Maucroix," Canon of Rheims, an early and + late friend and patron of the poet. See Translator's Preface. +[3] _Old Malherbe and young Racan._--French poets. Malherbe was + born in 1556, and died in 1628. La Fontaine owed to Malherbe's works + the happy inspiration which led him to write poetry. See Translator's + Preface. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan, was born at La Roche + Racan in 1589. As a poet he was a pupil of Malherbe. His works + were praised by Boileau, and he was one of the earliest members of + the French Academy. +[4] _Nicholas and his Jane._--An allusion to an old French song. + + + + +II.--THE MEMBERS AND THE BELLY.[5] + + Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, + This book would have begun with royalty, + Of which, in certain points of view, + Boss[6] Belly is the image true, + In whose bereavements all the members share: + Of whom the latter once so weary were, + As all due service to forbear, + On what they called his idle plan, + Resolved to play the gentleman, + And let his lordship live on air. + 'Like burden-beasts,' said they, + 'We sweat from day to day; + And all for whom, and what? + Ourselves we profit not. + Our labour has no object but one, + That is, to feed this lazy glutton. + We'll learn the resting trade + By his example's aid.' + So said, so done; all labour ceased; + The hands refused to grasp, the arms to strike; + All other members did the like. + Their boss might labour if he pleased! + It was an error which they soon repented, + With pain of languid poverty acquainted. + The heart no more the blood renew'd, + And hence repair no more accrued + To ever-wasting strength; + Whereby the mutineers, at length, + Saw that the idle belly, in its way, + Did more for common benefit than they. + + For royalty our fable makes, + A thing that gives as well as takes + Its power all labour to sustain, + Nor for themselves turns out their labour vain. + It gives the artist bread, the merchant riches; + Maintains the diggers in their ditches; + Pays man of war and magistrate; + Supports the swarms in place, + That live on sovereign grace; + In short, is caterer for the state. + + Menenius[7] told the story well: + When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, + The commons parting from the senate. + 'The ills,' said they, 'that we complain at + Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity, + Belong to them alone; while we + Get nought our labour for + But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war.' + Without the walls the people had their stand + Prepared to march in search of other land, + When by this noted fable + Menenius was able + To draw them, hungry, home + To duty and to Rome.[8] + +[5] Aesop. Rabelais also has a version: Book III. ch. 3. +[6] _Boss_.--A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to + lexicographers; qu. derived from the French _bosseman_, or the + English _boatswain_, pronounced _bos'n_? It denotes a "master" of + some practical "art." Master Belly, says Rabelais, was the first + Master of Arts in the world.--Translator. The name used by La + Fontaine is "Messer Gaster." To which he puts a footnote stating + that he meant "L'estomac." He took the name from Rabelais, Book IV., + ch. 57, where it occurs thus:--"Messer Gaster est le premier maitre + es arts de ce monde.... Son mandement est nomme: Faire le fault, + sans delay, ou mourir." +[7] _Menenius_.--See Translator's Preface. +[8] _Rome_.--According to our republican notions of government, + these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the fable finds a + more appropriate application in the relation of employer to employed. + I leave the fabulists and the political economists to settle the + question between them.--Translator. + + + + +III.--THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.[9] + + A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks + Began to be but few, + Bethought himself to play the fox + In character quite new. + A shepherd's hat and coat he took, + A cudgel for a crook, + Nor e'en the pipe forgot: + And more to seem what he was not, + Himself upon his hat he wrote, + 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep.' + His person thus complete, + His crook in upraised feet, + The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. + The real Willie, on the grass asleep, + Slept there, indeed, profoundly, + His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; + His drowsy sheep around lay. + As for the greatest number, + Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, + And hoped to drive away the flock, + Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. + He thought undoubtedly he could. + He tried: the tone in which he spoke, + Loud echoing from the wood, + The plot and slumber broke; + Sheep, dog, and man awoke. + The wolf, in sorry plight, + In hampering coat bedight, + Could neither run nor fight. + + There's always leakage of deceit + Which makes it never safe to cheat. + Whoever is a wolf had better + Keep clear of hypocritic fetter. + +[9] The story of this fable is traced to Verdizotti, an Italian poet who + lived about 1535-1600. + + + + +IV.--THE FROGS ASKING A KING.[10] + + A certain commonwealth aquatic, + Grown tired of order democratic, + By clamouring in the ears of Jove, effected + Its being to a monarch's power subjected. + Jove flung it down, at first, a king pacific. + Who nathless fell with such a splash terrific, + The marshy folks, a foolish race and timid, + Made breathless haste to get from him hid. + They dived into the mud beneath the water, + Or found among the reeds and rushes quarter. + And long it was they dared not see + The dreadful face of majesty, + Supposing that some monstrous frog + Had been sent down to rule the bog. + The king was really a log, + Whose gravity inspired with awe + The first that, from his hiding-place + Forth venturing, astonish'd, saw + The royal blockhead's face. + With trembling and with fear, + At last he drew quite near. + Another follow'd, and another yet, + Till quite a crowd at last were met; + Who, growing fast and strangely bolder, + Perch'd soon upon the royal shoulder. + His gracious majesty kept still, + And let his people work their will. + Clack, clack! what din beset the ears of Jove? + 'We want a king,' the people said, 'to move!' + The god straight sent them down a crane, + Who caught and slew them without measure, + And gulp'd their carcasses at pleasure; + Whereat the frogs more wofully complain. + 'What! what!' great Jupiter replied; + 'By your desires must I be tied? + Think you such government is bad? + You should have kept what first you had; + Which having blindly fail'd to do, + It had been prudent still for you + To let that former king suffice, + More meek and mild, if not so wise. + With this now make yourselves content, + Lest for your sins a worse be sent.' + +[10] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 2. + + + + +V.--THE FOX AND THE GOAT.[11] + + A fox once journey'd, and for company + A certain bearded, horned goat had he; + Which goat no further than his nose could see. + The fox was deeply versed in trickery. + These travellers did thirst compel + To seek the bottom of a well. + There, having drunk enough for two, + Says fox, 'My friend, what shall we do? + 'Tis time that we were thinking + Of something else than drinking. + Raise you your feet upon the wall, + And stick your horns up straight and tall; + Then up your back I'll climb with ease, + And draw you after, if you please.' + 'Yes, by my beard,' the other said, + ''Tis just the thing. I like a head + Well stock'd with sense, like thine. + Had it been left to mine, + I do confess, + I never should have thought of this.' + So Renard clamber'd out, + And, leaving there the goat, + Discharged his obligations + By preaching thus on patience:-- + 'Had Heaven put sense thy head within, + To match the beard upon thy chin, + Thou wouldst have thought a bit, + Before descending such a pit. + I'm out of it; good bye: + With prudent effort try + Yourself to extricate. + For me, affairs of state + Permit me not to wait.' + + Whatever way you wend, + Consider well the end. + +[11] Aesop; also in Phaedrus, IV. 9. + + + + +VI.--THE EAGLE, THE WILD SOW, AND THE CAT.[12] + + A certain hollow tree + Was tenanted by three. + An eagle held a lofty bough, + The hollow root a wild wood sow, + A female cat between the two. + All busy with maternal labours, + They lived awhile obliging neighbours. + At last the cat's deceitful tongue + Broke up the peace of old and young. + Up climbing to the eagle's nest, + She said, with whisker'd lips compress'd, + 'Our death, or, what as much we mothers fear, + That of our helpless offspring dear, + Is surely drawing near. + Beneath our feet, see you not how + Destruction's plotted by the sow? + Her constant digging, soon or late, + Our proud old castle will uproot. + And then--O, sad and shocking fate!-- + She'll eat our young ones, as the fruit! + Were there but hope of saving one, + 'Twould soothe somewhat my bitter moan.' + Thus leaving apprehensions hideous, + Down went the puss perfidious + To where the sow, no longer digging, + Was in the very act of pigging. + 'Good friend and neighbour,' whisper'd she, + 'I warn you on your guard to be. + Your pigs should you but leave a minute, + This eagle here will seize them in it. + Speak not of this, I beg, at all, + Lest on my head her wrath should fall.' + Another breast with fear inspired, + With fiendish joy the cat retired. + The eagle ventured no egress + To feed her young, the sow still less. + Fools they, to think that any curse + Than ghastly famine could be worse! + Both staid at home, resolved and obstinate, + To save their young ones from impending fate,-- + The royal bird for fear of mine, + For fear of royal claws the swine. + All died, at length, with hunger, + The older and the younger; + There staid, of eagle race or boar, + Not one this side of death's dread door;-- + A sad misfortune, which + The wicked cats made rich. + O, what is there of hellish plot + The treacherous tongue dares not! + Of all the ills Pandora's box[13] outpour'd, + Deceit, I think, is most to be abhorr'd. + +[12] Phaedrus, II. 4. +[13] _Pandora's box._--Pandora, the Eve of the Grecian mythology, + was sent to earth with all the human ills and Hope in a box, whence + all but Hope escaped.--_Vide_ Elton's Hesiod, _Works and Days_, + I. 114, Bohn's edition, &c. + + + + +VII.--THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE.[14] + + Each has his fault, to which he clings + In spite of shame or fear. + This apophthegm a story brings, + To make its truth more clear. + A sot had lost health, mind, and purse; + And, truly, for that matter, + Sots mostly lose the latter + Ere running half their course. + When wine, one day, of wit had fill'd the room, + His wife inclosed him in a spacious tomb. + There did the fumes evaporate + At leisure from his drowsy pate. + When he awoke, he found + His body wrapp'd around + With grave-clothes, chill and damp, + Beneath a dim sepulchral lamp. + 'How's this? My wife a widow sad?' + He cried, 'and I a ghost? Dead? dead?' + Thereat his spouse, with snaky hair, + And robes like those the Furies wear, + With voice to fit the realms below, + Brought boiling caudle to his bier-- + For Lucifer the proper cheer; + By which her husband came to know-- + For he had heard of those three ladies-- + Himself a citizen of Hades. + 'What may your office be?' + The phantom question'd he. + 'I'm server up of Pluto's meat, + And bring his guests the same to eat.' + 'Well,' says the sot, not taking time to think, + 'And don't you bring us anything to drink?' + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE GOUT AND THE SPIDER.[15] + + When Nature angrily turn'd out + Those plagues, the spider and the gout,-- + 'See you,' said she, 'those huts so meanly built, + These palaces so grand and richly gilt? + By mutual agreement fix + Your choice of dwellings; or if not, + To end th' affair by lot, + Draw out these little sticks.' + 'The huts are not for me,' the spider cried; + 'And not for me the palace,' cried the gout; + For there a sort of men she spied + Call'd doctors, going in and out, + From whom, she could not hope for ease. + So hied her to the huts the fell disease, + And, fastening on a poor man's toe, + Hoped there to fatten on his woe, + And torture him, fit after fit, + Without a summons e'er to quit, + From old Hippocrates. + The spider, on the lofty ceiling, + As if she had a life-lease feeling. + Wove wide her cunning toils, + Soon rich with insect spoils. + A maid destroy'd them as she swept the room: + Repair'd, again they felt the fatal broom. + The wretched creature, every day, + From house and home must pack away. + At last, her courage giving out, + She went to seek her sister gout, + And in the field descried her, + Quite starved: more evils did betide her + Than e'er befel the poorest spider-- + Her toiling host enslaved her so, + And made her chop, and dig, and hoe! + (Says one, "Kept brisk and busy, + The gout is made half easy.") + 'O, when,' exclaim'd the sad disease, + 'Will this my misery stop? + O, sister spider, if you please, + Our places let us swop.' + The spider gladly heard, + And took her at her word,-- + And flourish'd in the cabin-lodge, + Not forced the tidy broom to dodge + The gout, selecting her abode + With an ecclesiastic judge, + Turn'd judge herself, and, by her code, + He from his couch no more could budge. + The salves and cataplasms Heaven knows, + That mock'd the misery of his toes; + While aye, without a blush, the curse, + Kept driving onward worse and worse. + Needless to say, the sisterhood + Thought their exchange both wise and good. + +[15] The story of this fable is told in Petrarch, (Epistles, III. 13) and + by others. + + + + +IX.--THE WOLF AND THE STORK.[16] + + The wolves are prone to play the glutton. + One, at a certain feast, 'tis said, + So stuff'd himself with lamb and mutton, + He seem'd but little short of dead. + Deep in his throat a bone stuck fast. + Well for this wolf, who could not speak, + That soon a stork quite near him pass'd. + By signs invited, with her beak + The bone she drew + With slight ado, + And for this skilful surgery + Demanded, modestly, her fee. + 'Your fee!' replied the wolf, + In accents rather gruff; + 'And is it not enough + Your neck is safe from such a gulf? + Go, for a wretch ingrate, + Nor tempt again your fate!' + +[16] Phaedrus, I. 8; and Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.[17] + + A picture once was shown, + In which one man, alone, + Upon the ground had thrown + A lion fully grown. + Much gloried at the sight the rabble. + A lion thus rebuked their babble:-- + 'That you have got the victory there, + There is no contradiction. + But, gentles, possibly you are + The dupes of easy fiction: + Had we the art of making pictures, + Perhaps our champion had beat yours!' + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.[18] + + A fox, almost with hunger dying, + Some grapes upon a trellis spying, + To all appearance ripe, clad in + Their tempting russet skin, + Most gladly would have eat them; + But since he could not get them, + So far above his reach the vine-- + 'They're sour,' he said; 'such grapes as these, + The dogs may eat them if they please!' + + Did he not better than to whine? + +[18] Aesop: Phaedrus, IV. 3. + + + + +XII.--THE SWAN AND THE COOK.[19] + + The pleasures of a poultry yard + Were by a swan and gosling shared. + The swan was kept there for his looks, + The thrifty gosling for the cooks; + The first the garden's pride, the latter + A greater favourite on the platter. + They swam the ditches, side by side, + And oft in sports aquatic vied, + Plunging, splashing far and wide, + With rivalry ne'er satisfied. + One day the cook, named Thirsty John, + Sent for the gosling, took the swan, + In haste his throat to cut, + And put him in the pot. + The bird's complaint resounded + In glorious melody; + Whereat the cook, astounded + His sad mistake to see, + Cried, 'What! make soup of a musician! + Please God, I'll never set such dish on. + No, no; I'll never cut a throat + That sings so sweet a note.' + + 'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, + Sweet words will never harm us. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THE WOLVES AND THE SHEEP.[20] + + By-gone a thousand years of war, + The wearers of the fleece + And wolves at last made peace; + Which both appear'd the better for; + For if the wolves had now and then + Eat up a straggling ewe or wether, + As often had the shepherd men + Turn'd wolf-skins into leather. + Fear always spoil'd the verdant herbage, + And so it did the bloody carnage. + Hence peace was sweet; and, lest it should be riven, + On both sides hostages were given. + The sheep, as by the terms arranged, + For pups of wolves their dogs exchanged; + Which being done above suspicion, + Confirm'd and seal'd by high commission, + What time the pups were fully grown, + And felt an appetite for prey, + And saw the sheepfold left alone, + The shepherds all away, + They seized the fattest lambs they could, + And, choking, dragg'd them to the wood; + Of which, by secret means apprised, + Their sires, as is surmised, + Fell on the hostage guardians of the sheep, + And slew them all asleep. + So quick the deed of perfidy was done, + There fled to tell the tale not one! + + From which we may conclude + That peace with villains will be rued. + Peace in itself, 'tis true, + May be a good for you; + But 'tis an evil, nathless, + When enemies are faithless. + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE LION GROWN OLD.[21] + + A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane + Of might once dreaded through his wild domain, + Was mock'd, at last, upon his throne, + By subjects of his own, + Strong through his weakness grown. + The horse his head saluted with a kick; + The wolf snapp'd at his royal hide; + The ox, too, gored him in the side; + The unhappy lion, sad and sick, + Could hardly growl, he was so weak. + In uncomplaining, stoic pride, + He waited for the hour of fate, + Until the ass approach'd his gate; + Whereat, 'This is too much,' he saith; + 'I willingly would yield my breath; + But, ah! thy kick is double death!' + +[21] Phaedrus, I. 21. + + + + +XV.--PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.[22] + + From home and city spires, one day, + The swallow Progne flew away, + And sought the bosky dell + Where sang poor Philomel.[23] + 'My sister,' Progne said, 'how do you do? + 'Tis now a thousand years since you + Have been conceal'd from human view; + I'm sure I have not seen your face + Once since the times of Thrace. + Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?' + 'Where could I find,' said Philomel, 'so sweet?' + 'What! sweet?' cried Progne--'sweet to waste + Such tones on beasts devoid of taste, + Or on some rustic, at the most! + Should you by deserts be engross'd? + Come, be the city's pride and boast. + Besides, the woods remind of harms + That Tereus in them did your charms.' + 'Alas!' replied the bird of song, + 'The thought of that so cruel wrong + Makes me, from age to age, + Prefer this hermitage; + For nothing like the sight of men + Can call up what I suffer'd then.' + +[22] Aesop. +[23] _Progne and Philomel_.--Progne and Philomela, sisters, in + mythology. Progne was Queen of Thrace, and was changed into a + swallow. Her sister was changed into a nightingale; _vide_ Ovid, + _Metamorphoses_. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOMAN DROWNED.[24] + + I hate that saying, old and savage, + "'Tis nothing but a woman drowning." + That's much, I say. What grief more keen should have edge + Than loss of her, of all our joys the crowning? + Thus much suggests the fable I am borrowing. + A woman perish'd in the water, + Where, anxiously, and sorrowing, + Her husband sought her, + To ease the grief he could not cure, + By honour'd rites of sepulture. + It chanced that near the fatal spot, + Along the stream which had + Produced a death so sad, + There walk'd some men that knew it not. + The husband ask'd if they had seen + His wife, or aught that hers had been. + One promptly answer'd, 'No! + But search the stream below: + It must nave borne her in its flow.' + 'No,' said another; 'search above. + In that direction + She would have floated, by the love + Of contradiction.' + This joke was truly out of season;-- + I don't propose to weigh its reason. + But whether such propensity + The sex's fault may be, + Or not, one thing is very sure, + Its own propensities endure. + Up to the end they'll have their will, + And, if it could be, further still. + +[24] Verdizotti. + + + + +XVII.--THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.[25] + + A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, + (She was recovering from disease,) + Which led her to a farmer's hoard. + There lodged, her wasted form she cherish'd; + Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored + That by her gnawing perish'd! + Of which the consequence + Was sudden corpulence. + A week or so was past, + When having fully broken fast. + A noise she heard, and hurried + To find the hole by which she came, + And seem'd to find it not the same; + So round she ran, most sadly flurried; + And, coming back, thrust out her head, + Which, sticking there, she said, + 'This is the hole, there can't be blunder: + What makes it now so small, I wonder, + Where, but the other day, I pass'd with ease?' + A rat her trouble sees, + And cries, 'But with an emptier belly; + You enter'd lean, and lean must sally.' + What I have said to you + Has eke been said to not a few, + Who, in a vast variety of cases,[26] + Have ventured into such-like places. + +[25] Aesop: also in Horace, _Epistles_, Book I. 7. +[26] _A vast variety of cases_.--Chamfort says of this passage: "La + Fontaine, with his usual delicacy, here alludes to the king's + farmers and other officers in place; and abruptly quits the subject + as if he felt himself on ticklish ground." + + + + +XVIII.--THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT.[27] + + A story-writer of our sort + Historifies, in short, + Of one that may be reckon'd + A Rodilard the Second,--[28] + The Alexander of the cats, + The Attila,[29] the scourge of rats, + Whose fierce and whisker'd head + Among the latter spread, + A league around, its dread; + Who seem'd, indeed, determined + The world should be unvermined. + The planks with props more false than slim, + The tempting heaps of poison'd meal, + The traps of wire and traps of steel, + Were only play compared with him. + At length, so sadly were they scared. + The rats and mice no longer dared + To show their thievish faces + Outside their hiding-places, + Thus shunning all pursuit; whereat + Our crafty General Cat + Contrived to hang himself, as dead, + Beside the wall with downward head, + Resisting gravitation's laws + By clinging with his hinder claws + To some small bit of string. + The rats esteem'd the thing + A judgment for some naughty deed, + Some thievish snatch, + Or ugly scratch; + And thought their foe had got his meed + By being hung indeed. + With hope elated all + Of laughing at his funeral, + They thrust their noses out in air; + And now to show their heads they dare; + Now dodging back, now venturing more; + At last upon the larder's store + They fall to filching, as of yore. + A scanty feast enjoy'd these shallows; + Down dropp'd the hung one from his gallows, + And of the hindmost caught. + 'Some other tricks to me are known,' + Said he, while tearing bone from bone, + 'By long experience taught; + The point is settled, free from doubt, + That from your holes you shall come out.' + His threat as good as prophecy + Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly; + For, putting on a mealy robe, + He squatted in an open tub, + And held his purring and his breath;-- + Out came the vermin to their death. + On this occasion, one old stager, + A rat as grey as any badger, + Who had in battle lost his tail, + Abstained from smelling at the meal; + And cried, far off, 'Ah! General Cat, + I much suspect a heap like that; + Your meal is not the thing, perhaps, + For one who knows somewhat of traps; + Should you a sack of meal become, + I'd let you be, and stay at home.' + + Well said, I think, and prudently, + By one who knew distrust to be + The parent of security. + +[27] Phaedrus, Book IV. 2: also in Aesop, and Faerno. +[28] _Rodilard the Second._--Another allusion to Rabelais's cat + Rodilardus. See Fable II., Book II. +[29] _Attila_.--The King of the Huns, who, for overrunning half Europe, + was termed the Scourge of God. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK IV. + + +I.--THE LION IN LOVE.[1] + +To Mademoiselle De Sevigne.[2] + + Sevigne, type of every grace + In female form and face, + In your regardlessness of men, + Can you show favour when + The sportive fable craves your ear, + And see, unmoved by fear, + A lion's haughty heart + Thrust through by Love's audacious dart? + Strange conqueror, Love! And happy he, + And strangely privileged and free, + Who only knows by story + Him and his feats of glory! + If on this subject you are wont + To think the simple truth too blunt, + The fabulous may less affront; + Which now, inspired with gratitude, + Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, + Doth venture to intrude + Within your maiden solitude, + And kneel, your humble servant.-- + In times when animals were speakers, + Among the quadrupedal seekers + Of our alliance + There came the lions. + And wherefore not? for then + They yielded not to men + In point of courage or of sense, + Nor were in looks without pretence. + A high-born lion, on his way + Across a meadow, met one day + A shepherdess, who charm'd him so, + That, as such matters ought to go, + He sought the maiden for his bride. + Her sire, it cannot be denied, + Had much preferr'd a son-in-law + Of less terrific mouth and paw. + It was not easy to decide-- + The lion might the gift abuse-- + 'Twas not quite prudent to refuse. + And if refusal there should be, + Perhaps a marriage one would see, + Some morning, made clandestinely. + For, over and above + The fact that she could bear + With none but males of martial air, + The lady was in love + With him of shaggy hair. + Her sire, much wanting cover + To send away the lover, + Thus spoke:--'My daughter, sir, + Is delicate. I fear to her + Your fond caressings + Will prove rough blessings. + To banish all alarm + About such sort of harm, + Permit us to remove the cause, + By filing off your teeth and claws. + In such a case, your royal kiss + Will be to her a safer bliss, + And to yourself a sweeter; + Since she will more respond + To those endearments fond + With which you greet her.' + The lion gave consent at once, + By love so great a dunce! + Without a tooth or claw now view him-- + A fort with cannon spiked. + The dogs, let loose upon him, slew him, + All biting safely where they liked. + + O, tyrant Love! when held by you, + We may to prudence bid adieu. + +[1] Aesop, also Verdizotti. +[2] _Mademoiselle de Sevigne_.--Francoise-Marguerite de Sevigne, + afterwards Madame de Grignan, the daughter of the celebrated Madame + de Sevigne. The famous Sevigne "Letters" were for the most part + addressed to Madame de Grignan. For some account of Madame de Sevigne + and La Fontaine, see the Translator's Preface; also note to Fable XI. + Book VII. + + + + +II.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA.[3] + + A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, + Lived with his flock contentedly. + His fortune, though but small, + Was safe within his call. + At last some stranded kegs of gold + Him tempted, and his flock he sold, + Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves + Bore all his treasure--to its caves. + Brought back to keeping sheep once more, + But not chief shepherd, as before, + When sheep were his that grazed the shore, + He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis, + Might once have shone in pastoral verses, + Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre, + Was nothing now but Peter. + But time and toil redeem'd in full + Those harmless creatures rich in wool; + And as the lulling winds, one day, + The vessels wafted with a gentle motion, + 'Want you,' he cried, 'more money, Madam Ocean? + Address yourself to some one else, I pray; + You shall not get it out of me! + I know too well your treachery.' + + This tale's no fiction, but a fact, + Which, by experience back'd, + Proves that a single penny, + At present held, and certain, + Is worth five times as many, + Of Hope's, beyond the curtain; + That one should be content with his condition, + And shut his ears to counsels of ambition, + More faithless than the wreck-strown sea, and which + Doth thousands beggar where it makes one rich,-- + Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms, + And blasts the same with piracy and storms. + +[3] Aesop. + + + + +III.--THE FLY AND THE ANT.[4] + + A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, + Discuss'd the question of their rank. + 'O Jupiter!' the former said, + 'Can love of self so turn the head, + That one so mean and crawling, + And of so low a calling, + To boast equality shall dare + With me, the daughter of the air? + In palaces I am a guest, + And even at thy glorious feast. + Whene'er the people that adore thee + May immolate for thee a bullock, + I'm sure to taste the meat before thee. + Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock, + Is living on some bit of straw + Which she has labour'd home to draw. + But tell me now, my little thing, + Do you camp ever on a king, + An emperor, or lady? + I do, and have full many a play-day + On fairest bosom of the fair, + And sport myself upon her hair. + Come now, my hearty, rack your brain + To make a case about your grain.' + 'Well, have you done?' replied the ant. + 'You enter palaces, I grant, + And for it get right soundly cursed. + Of sacrifices, rich and fat, + Your taste, quite likely, is the first;-- + Are they the better off for that? + You enter with the holy train; + So enters many a wretch profane. + On heads of kings and asses you may squat; + Deny your vaunting I will not; + But well such impudence, I know, + Provokes a sometimes fatal blow. + The name in which your vanity delights + Is own'd as well by parasites, + And spies that die by ropes--as you soon will + By famine or by ague-chill, + When Phoebus goes to cheer + The other hemisphere,-- + The very time to me most dear. + Not forced abroad to go + Through wind, and rain, and snow, + My summer's work I then enjoy, + And happily my mind employ, + From care by care exempted. + By which this truth I leave to you, + That by two sorts of glory we are tempted, + The false one and the true. + Work waits, time flies; adieu:-- + This gabble does not fill + My granary or till.' + +[4] Phaedrus, IV. 23. + + + + +IV.--THE GARDENER AND HIS LORD. + + A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, + Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town; + And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed, + Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed, + A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme, + Grew gaily, and all in their prime + To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet, + The grace of her bright wedding day. + For poaching in such a nice field--'twas a shame; + A foraging, cud-chewing hare was to blame. + Whereof the good owner bore down + This tale to the lord of the town:-- + 'Some mischievous animal, morning and night, + In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite. + He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and snares; + For clubbing and stoning as little he cares. + I think him a wizard. A wizard! the coot! + I'd catch him if he were a devil to boot!' + The lord said, in haste to have sport for his hounds, + 'I'll clear him, I warrant you, out of your grounds; + To morrow I'll do it without any fail.' + + The thing thus agreed on, all hearty and hale, + The lord and his party, at crack of the dawn, + With hounds at their heels canter'd over the lawn. + Arrived, said the lord in his jovial mood, + 'We'll breakfast with you, if your chickens are good. + That lass, my good man, I suppose is your daughter: + No news of a son-in-law? Any one sought her? + No doubt, by the score. Keep an eye on the docket, + Eh? Dost understand me? I speak of the pocket.' + So saying, the daughter he graciously greeted, + And close by his lordship he bade her be seated; + Avow'd himself pleased with so handsome a maid, + And then with her kerchief familiarly play'd,-- + Impertinent freedoms the virtuous fair + Repell'd with a modest and lady-like air,-- + So much that her father a little suspected + The girl had already a lover elected. + Meanwhile in the kitchen what bustling and cooking! + 'For what are your hams? They are very good looking.' + 'They're kept for your lordship.' 'I take them,' said he; + 'Such elegant flitches are welcome to me.' + He breakfasted finely his troop, with delight,-- + Dogs, horses, and grooms of the best appetite. + Thus he govern'd his host in the shape of a guest, + Unbottled his wine, and his daughter caress'd. + To breakfast, the huddle of hunters succeeds, + The yelping of dogs and the neighing of steeds, + All cheering and fixing for wonderful deeds; + The horns and the bugles make thundering din; + Much wonders our gardener what it can mean. + The worst is, his garden most wofully fares; + Adieu to its arbours, and borders, and squares; + Adieu to its chiccory, onions, and leeks; + Adieu to whatever good cookery seeks. + + Beneath a great cabbage the hare was in bed, + Was started, and shot at, and hastily fled. + Off went the wild chase, with a terrible screech, + And not through a hole, but a horrible breach, + Which some one had made, at the beck of the lord, + Wide through the poor hedge! 'Twould have been quite absurd + Should lordship not freely from garden go out, + On horseback, attended by rabble and rout. + Scarce suffer'd the gard'ner his patience to wince, + Consoling himself--'Twas the sport of a prince; + While bipeds and quadrupeds served to devour, + And trample, and waste, in the space of an hour, + Far more than a nation of foraging hares + Could possibly do in a hundred of years. + + Small princes, this story is true, + When told in relation to you. + In settling your quarrels with kings for your tools, + You prove yourselves losers and eminent fools. + + + + +V.--THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.[5] + + One's native talent from its course + Cannot be turned aside by force; + But poorly apes the country clown + The polish'd manners of the town. + Their Maker chooses but a few + With power of pleasing to imbue; + Where wisely leave it we, the mass, + Unlike a certain fabled ass, + That thought to gain his master's blessing + By jumping on him and caressing. + 'What!' said the donkey in his heart; + 'Ought it to be that puppy's part + To lead his useless life + In full companionship + With master and his wife, + While I must bear the whip? + What doth the cur a kiss to draw? + Forsooth, he only gives his paw! + If that is all there needs to please, + I'll do the thing myself, with ease.' + Possess'd with this bright notion,-- + His master sitting on his chair, + At leisure in the open air,-- + He ambled up, with awkward motion, + And put his talents to the proof; + Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof, + And, with an amiable mien, + His master patted on the chin, + The action gracing with a word-- + The fondest bray that e'er was heard! + O, such caressing was there ever? + Or melody with such a quaver? + 'Ho! Martin![6] here! a club, a club bring!' + Out cried the master, sore offended. + So Martin gave the ass a drubbing,-- + And so the comedy was ended. + +[5] Aesop. +[6] _Martin_.--La Fontaine has "Martin-baton," a name for a groom or + ostler armed with his cudgel of office, taken from Rabelais. + + + + +VI.--THE BATTLE OF THE RATS AND THE WEASELS.[7] + + The weasels live, no more than cats, + On terms of friendship with the rats; + And, were it not that these + Through doors contrive to squeeze + Too narrow for their foes, + The animals long-snouted + Would long ago have routed, + And from the planet scouted + Their race, as I suppose. + + One year it did betide, + When they were multiplied, + An army took the field + Of rats, with spear and shield, + Whose crowded ranks led on + A king named Ratapon. + The weasels, too, their banner + Unfurl'd in warlike manner. + As Fame her trumpet sounds, + The victory balanced well; + Enrich'd were fallow grounds + Where slaughter'd legions fell; + But by said trollop's tattle, + The loss of life in battle + Thinn'd most the rattish race + In almost every place; + And finally their rout + Was total, spite of stout + Artarpax and Psicarpax, + And valiant Meridarpax,[8] + Who, cover'd o'er with dust, + Long time sustain'd their host + Down sinking on the plain. + Their efforts were in vain; + Fate ruled that final hour, + (Inexorable power!) + And so the captains fled + As well as those they led; + The princes perish'd all. + The undistinguish'd small + In certain holes found shelter, + In crowding, helter-skelter; + But the nobility + Could not go in so free, + Who proudly had assumed + Each one a helmet plumed; + We know not, truly, whether + For honour's sake the feather, + Or foes to strike with terror; + But, truly, 'twas their error. + Nor hole, nor crack, nor crevice + Will let their head-gear in; + While meaner rats in bevies + An easy passage win;-- + So that the shafts of fate + Do chiefly hit the great. + + A feather in the cap + Is oft a great mishap. + An equipage too grand + Comes often to a stand + Within a narrow place. + The small, whate'er the case, + With ease slip through a strait, + Where larger folks must wait. + +[7] Phaedrus, Book IV. 6. +[8] Names of rats, invented by Homer.--Translator. + + + + +VII.--THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN.[9] + + It was the custom of the Greeks + For passengers o'er sea to carry + Both monkeys full of tricks + And funny dogs to make them merry. + A ship, that had such things on deck, + Not far from Athens, went to wreck. + But for the dolphins, all had drown'd. + They are a philanthropic fish, + Which fact in Pliny may be found;-- + A better voucher who could wish? + They did their best on this occasion. + A monkey even, on their plan + Well nigh attain'd his own salvation; + A dolphin took him for a man, + And on his dorsal gave him place. + So grave the silly creature's face, + That one might well have set him down + That old musician of renown.[10] + The fish had almost reach'd the land, + When, as it happen'd,--what a pity!-- + He ask'd, 'Are you from Athens grand?' + 'Yes; well they know me in that city. + If ever you have business there, + I'll help you do it, for my kin + The highest offices are in. + My cousin, sir, is now lord mayor.' + The dolphin thank'd him, with good grace, + Both for himself and all his race, + And ask'd, 'You doubtless know Piraeus, + Where, should we come to town, you'll see us.' + 'Piraeus? yes, indeed I know; + He was my crony long ago.' + The dunce knew not the harbour's name, + And for a man's mistook the same. + The people are by no means few, + Who never went ten miles from home, + Nor know their market-town from Rome, + Yet cackle just as if they knew. + The dolphin laugh'd, and then began + His rider's form and face to scan, + And found himself about to save + From fishy feasts, beneath the wave, + A mere resemblance of a man. + So, plunging down, he turn'd to find + Some drowning wight of human kind. + +[9] Aesop. +[10] Arion.--Translator. + According to Herodotus, I. 24 (Bonn's ed., p. 9), Arion, the son of + Cyclon of Methymna, and famous lyric poet and musician, having won + riches at a musical contest in Sicily, was voyaging home, when the + sailors of his ship determined to murder him for his treasure. He + asked to be allowed to play a tune; and as soon as he had finished + he threw himself into the sea. It was then found that the music had + attracted a number of dolphins round the ship, and one of these took + the bard on its back and conveyed him safely to Taenarus. + + + + +VIII.--THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.[11] + + A pagan kept a god of wood,-- + A sort that never hears, + Though furnish'd well with ears,-- + From which he hoped for wondrous good. + The idol cost the board of three; + So much enrich'd was he + With vows and offerings vain, + With bullocks garlanded and slain: + No idol ever had, as that, + A kitchen quite so full and fat. + But all this worship at his shrine + Brought not from this same block divine + Inheritance, or hidden mine, + Or luck at play, or any favour. + Nay, more, if any storm whatever + Brew'd trouble here or there, + The man was sure to have his share, + And suffer in his purse, + Although the god fared none the worse. + At last, by sheer impatience bold, + The man a crowbar seizes, + His idol breaks in pieces, + And finds it richly stuff'd with gold. + 'How's this? Have I devoutly treated,' + Says he, 'your godship, to be cheated? + Now leave my house, and go your way, + And search for altars where you may. + You're like those natures, dull and gross, + From, which comes nothing but by blows; + The more I gave, the less I got; + I'll now be rich, and you may rot.' + +[11] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE JAY IN THE FEATHERS OF THE PEACOCK.[12] + + A peacock moulted: soon a jay was seen + Bedeck'd with Argus tail of gold and green,[13] + High strutting, with elated crest, + As much a peacock as the rest. + His trick was recognized and bruited, + His person jeer'd at, hiss'd, and hooted. + The peacock gentry flock'd together, + And pluck'd the fool of every feather. + Nay more, when back he sneak'd to join his race, + They shut their portals in his face. + + There is another sort of jay, + The number of its legs the same, + Which makes of borrow'd plumes display, + And plagiary is its name. + But hush! the tribe I'll not offend; + 'Tis not my work their ways to mend. + +[12] Aesop; Phaedrus, I. 3. +[13] _Argus tail of gold and green._--According to mythology, Argus, + surnamed Panoptes (or all-seeing), possessed a hundred eyes, some of + which were never closed in sleep. At his death Juno either + transformed him into the peacock, or transferred his hundred eyes to + the tail of that, her favourite, bird. "Argus tail of gold and + green," therefore, means tail endowed with the eyes of Argus. + + + + +X.--THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.[14] + + The first who saw the humpback'd camel + Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; + The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare + The desert wanderer to trammel. + Such is the power of use to change + The face of objects new and strange; + Which grow, by looking at, so tame, + They do not even seem the same. + And since this theme is up for our attention, + A certain watchman I will mention, + Who, seeing something far + Away upon the ocean, + Could not but speak his notion + That 'twas a ship of war. + Some minutes more had past,-- + A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail, + And then a boat, and then a bale, + And floating sticks of wood at last! + + Full many things on earth, I wot, + Will claim this tale,--and well they may; + They're something dreadful far away, + But near at hand--they're not. + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE FROG AND THE RAT.[15] + + They to bamboozle are inclined, + Saith Merlin,[16] who bamboozled are. + The word, though rather unrefined, + Has yet an energy we ill can spare; + So by its aid I introduce my tale. + A well-fed rat, rotund and hale, + Not knowing either Fast or Lent, + Disporting round a frog-pond went. + A frog approach'd, and, with a friendly greeting, + Invited him to see her at her home, + And pledged a dinner worth his eating,-- + To which the rat was nothing loath to come. + Of words persuasive there was little need: + She spoke, however, of a grateful bath; + Of sports and curious wonders on their path; + Of rarities of flower, and rush, and reed: + One day he would recount with glee + To his assembled progeny + The various beauties of these places, + The customs of the various races, + And laws that sway the realms aquatic, + (She did not mean the hydrostatic!) + One thing alone the rat perplex'd,-- + He was but moderate as a swimmer. + The frog this matter nicely fix'd + By kindly lending him her + Long paw, which with a rush she tied + To his; and off they started, side by side. + Arrived upon the lakelet's brink, + There was but little time to think. + The frog leap'd in, and almost brought her + Bound guest to land beneath the water. + Perfidious breach of law and right! + She meant to have a supper warm + Out of his sleek and dainty form. + Already did her appetite + Dwell on the morsel with delight. + The gods, in anguish, he invokes; + His faithless hostess rudely mocks; + He struggles up, she struggles down. + A kite, that hovers in the air, + Inspecting everything with care, + Now spies the rat belike to drown, + And, with a rapid wing, + Upbears the wretched thing, + The frog, too, dangling by the string! + The joy of such a double haul + Was to the hungry kite not small. + It gave him all that he could wish-- + A double meal of flesh and fish. + + The best contrived deceit + Can hurt its own contriver, + And perfidy doth often cheat + Its author's purse of every stiver. + +[15] Aesop. +[16] _Merlin._--This is Merlin, the wizard of the old French novels. + + + + +XII.--THE ANIMALS SENDING TRIBUTE TO ALEXANDER.[17] + + A fable flourished with antiquity + Whose meaning I could never clearly see. + Kind reader, draw the moral if you're able: + I give you here the naked fable. + Fame having bruited that a great commander, + A son of Jove, a certain Alexander, + Resolved to leave nought free on this our ball, + Had to his footstool gravely summon'd all + Men, quadrupeds, and nullipeds, together + With all the bird-republics, every feather,-- + The goddess of the hundred mouths, I say, + Thus having spread dismay, + By widely publishing abroad + This mandate of the demigod, + The animals, and all that do obey + Their appetite alone, mistrusted now + That to another sceptre they must bow. + Far in the desert met their various races, + All gathering from their hiding-places. + Discuss'd was many a notion. + At last, it was resolved, on motion, + To pacify the conquering banner, + By sending homage in, and tribute. + With both the homage and its manner + They charged the monkey, as a glib brute; + And, lest the chap should too much chatter, + In black on white they wrote the matter. + Nought but the tribute served to fash, + As that must needs be paid in cash. + A prince, who chanced a mine to own, + At last, obliged them with a loan. + The mule and ass, to bear the treasure, + Their service tender'd, full of pleasure; + And then the caravan was none the worse, + Assisted by the camel and the horse. + Forthwith proceeded all the four + Behind the new ambassador, + And saw, erelong, within a narrow place, + Monseigneur Lion's quite unwelcome face. + 'Well met, and all in time,' said he; + 'Myself your fellow traveller will be. + I wend my tribute by itself to bear; + And though 'tis light, I well might spare + The unaccustom'd load. + Take each a quarter, if you please, + And I will guard you on the road; + More free and at my ease-- + In better plight, you understand, + To fight with any robber band.' + A lion to refuse, the fact is, + Is not a very usual practice: + So in he comes, for better and for worse; + Whatever he demands is done, + And, spite of Jove's heroic son, + He fattens freely from the public purse. + While wending on their way, + They found a spot one day, + With waters hemm'd, of crystal sheen; + Its carpet, flower-besprinkled green; + Where pastured at their ease + Both flocks of sheep and dainty heifers, + And play'd the cooling breeze-- + The native land of all the zephyrs. + No sooner is the lion there + Than of some sickness he complains. + Says he, 'You on your mission fare. + A fever, with its thirst and pains, + Dries up my blood, and bakes my brains; + And I must search some herb, + Its fatal power to curb. + For you, there is no time to waste; + Pay me my money, and make haste.' + The treasures were unbound, + And placed upon the ground. + Then, with a look which testified + His royal joy, the lion cried, + 'My coins, good heavens, have multiplied! + And see the young ones of the gold + As big already as the old! + The increase belongs to me, no doubt;' + And eagerly he took it out! + 'Twas little staid beneath the lid; + The wonder was that any did. + Confounded were the monkey and his suite. + And, dumb with fear, betook them to their way, + And bore complaint to Jove's great son, they say-- + Complaint without a reason meet; + For what could he? Though a celestial scion, + He could but fight, as lion versus lion. + + When corsairs battle, Turk with Turk, + They're not about their proper work. + +[17] The story of this fable has been traced to Gilbert Cousin, in whose + works it figures with the title "De Jovis Ammonis oraculo." Gilbert + Cousin was Canon of Nozeret, and wrote between 1506 and 1569. + + + + +XIII.--THE HORSE WISHING TO BE REVENGED UPON THE STAG.[18] + + The horses have not always been + The humble slaves of men. + When, in the far-off past, + The fare of gentlemen was mast, + And even hats were never felt, + Horse, ass, and mule in forests dwelt. + Nor saw one then, as in these ages, + So many saddles, housings, pillions; + Such splendid equipages, + With golden-lace postilions; + Such harnesses for cattle, + To be consumed in battle; + As one saw not so many feasts, + And people married by the priests. + The horse fell out, within that space, + With the antler'd stag, so fleetly made: + He could not catch him in a race, + And so he came to man for aid. + Man first his suppliant bitted; + Then, on his back well seated, + Gave chase with spear, and rested not + Till to the ground the foe he brought. + This done, the honest horse, quite blindly, + Thus thank'd his benefactor kindly:-- + 'Dear sir, I'm much obliged to you; + I'll back to savage life. Adieu!' + 'O, no,' the man replied; + 'You'd better here abide; + I know too well your use. + Here, free from all abuse, + Remain a liege to me, + And large your provender shall be.' + Alas! good housing or good cheer, + That costs one's liberty, is dear. + The horse his folly now perceived, + But quite too late he grieved. + No grief his fate could alter; + His stall was built, and there he lived, + And died there in his halter. + Ah! wise had he one small offence forgot! + Revenge, however sweet, is dearly bought + By that one good, which gone, all else is nought. + +[18] Phaedrus, IV. 4; Horace (_Epistles_, Book I. 10), and others. + + + + +XIV.--THE FOX AND THE BUST.[19] + + The great are like the maskers of the stage; + Their show deceives the simple of the age. + For all that they appear to be they pass, + With only those whose type's the ass. + The fox, more wary, looks beneath the skin, + And looks on every side, and, when he sees + That all their glory is a semblance thin, + He turns, and saves the hinges of his knees, + With such a speech as once, 'tis said, + He utter'd to a hero's head. + A bust, somewhat colossal in its size, + Attracted crowds of wondering eyes. + The fox admired the sculptor's pains: + 'Fine head,' said he, 'but void of brains!' + The same remark to many a lord applies. + +[19] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 7 (The Fox and the Tragic Mask). + + + + +XV.--THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.[20] + + As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, + And browse the herbage of a distant hill, + She latch'd her door, and bid, + With matron care, her kid;-- + 'My daughter, as you live, + This portal don't undo + To any creature who + This watchword does not give: + "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"' + The wolf was passing near the place + By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, + And laid them up as useful treasure; + And hardly need we mention, + Escaped the goat's attention. + No sooner did he see + The matron off, than he, + With hypocritic tone and face, + Cried out before the place, + 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!' + Not doubting thus to gain admission. + The kid, not void of all suspicion, + Peer'd through a crack, and cried, + 'Show me white paw before + You ask me to undo the door.' + The wolf could not, if he had died, + For wolves have no connexion + With paws of that complexion. + So, much surprised, our gormandiser + Retired to fast till he was wiser. + How would the kid have been undone + Had she but trusted to the word + The wolf by chance had overheard! + Two sureties better are than one; + And caution's worth its cost, + Though sometimes seeming lost. + +[20] Corrozet; and others. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND HER CHILD.[21] + + This wolf another brings to mind, + Who found dame Fortune more unkind, + In that the greedy, pirate sinner, + Was balk'd of life as well as dinner. + As saith our tale, a villager + Dwelt in a by, unguarded place; + There, hungry, watch'd our pillager + For luck and chance to mend his case. + For there his thievish eyes had seen + All sorts of game go out and in-- + Nice sucking calves, and lambs and sheep; + And turkeys by the regiment, + With steps so proud, and necks so bent, + They'd make a daintier glutton weep. + The thief at length began to tire + Of being gnaw'd by vain desire. + Just then a child set up a cry: + 'Be still,' the mother said, 'or I + Will throw you to the wolf, you brat!' + 'Ha, ha!' thought he, 'what talk is that! + The gods be thank'd for luck so good!' + And ready at the door he stood, + When soothingly the mother said, + 'Now cry no more, my little dear; + That naughty wolf, if he comes here, + Your dear papa shall kill him dead.' + 'Humph!' cried the veteran mutton-eater. + 'Now this, now that! Now hot, now cool! + Is this the way they change their metre? + And do they take me for a fool? + Some day, a nutting in the wood, + That young one yet shall be my food.' + But little time has he to dote + On such a feast; the dogs rush out + And seize the caitiff by the throat; + And country ditchers, thick and stout, + With rustic spears and forks of iron, + The hapless animal environ. + 'What brought you here, old head?' cried one. + He told it all, as I have done. + 'Why, bless my soul!' the frantic mother said,-- + 'You, villain, eat my little son! + And did I nurse the darling boy, + Your fiendish appetite to cloy?' + With that they knock'd him on the head. + His feet and scalp they bore to town, + To grace the seigneur's hall, + Where, pinn'd against the wall, + This verse completed his renown:-- + "Ye honest wolves, believe not all + That mothers say, when children squall!" + +[21] Aesop; and others. + + + + +XVII.--THE WORDS OF SOCRATES.[22] + + A house was built by Socrates + That failed the public taste to please. + Some blamed the inside; some, the out; and all + Agreed that the apartments were too small. + Such rooms for him, the greatest sage of Greece! + 'I ask,' said he, 'no greater bliss + Than real friends to fill e'en this.' + And reason had good Socrates + To think his house too large for these. + A crowd to be your friends will claim, + Till some unhandsome test you bring. + There's nothing plentier than the name; + There's nothing rarer than the thing. + +[22] Phaedrus, III. 9. + + + + +XVIII.--THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS.[23] + + All power is feeble with dissension: + For this I quote the Phrygian slave.[24] + If aught I add to his invention, + It is our manners to engrave, + And not from any envious wishes;-- + I'm not so foolishly ambitious. + Phaedrus enriches oft his story, + In quest--I doubt it not--of glory: + Such thoughts were idle in my breast. + An aged man, near going to his rest, + His gather'd sons thus solemnly address'd:-- + 'To break this bunch of arrows you may try; + And, first, the string that binds them I untie.' + The eldest, having tried with might and main, + Exclaim'd, 'This bundle I resign + To muscles sturdier than mine.' + The second tried, and bow'd himself in vain. + The youngest took them with the like success. + All were obliged their weakness to confess. + Unharm'd the arrows pass'd from son to son; + Of all they did not break a single one. + 'Weak fellows!' said their sire, 'I now must show + What in the case my feeble strength can do.' + They laugh'd, and thought their father but in joke, + Till, one by one, they saw the arrows broke. + 'See, concord's power!' replied the sire; 'as long + As you in love agree, you will be strong. + I go, my sons, to join our fathers good; + Now promise me to live as brothers should, + And soothe by this your dying father's fears.' + Each strictly promised with a flood of tears. + Their father took them by the hand, and died; + And soon the virtue of their vows was tried. + Their sire had left a large estate + Involved in lawsuits intricate; + Here seized a creditor, and there + A neighbour levied for a share. + At first the trio nobly bore + The brunt of all this legal war. + But short their friendship as 'twas rare. + Whom blood had join'd--and small the wonder!-- + The force of interest drove asunder; + And, as is wont in such affairs, + Ambition, envy, were co-heirs. + In parcelling their sire's estate, + They quarrel, quibble, litigate, + Each aiming to supplant the other. + The judge, by turns, condemns each brother. + Their creditors make new assault, + Some pleading error, some default. + The sunder'd brothers disagree; + For counsel one, have counsels three. + All lose their wealth; and now their sorrows + Bring fresh to mind those broken arrows. + +[23] Aesop, Avianus, and others. +[24] _Phrygan slave._--Aesop. See Translator's Preface. + + + + +XIX.--THE ORACLE AND THE ATHEIST.[25] + + That man his Maker can deceive, + Is monstrous folly to believe. + The labyrinthine mazes of the heart + Are open to His eyes in every part. + Whatever one may do, or think, or feel, + From Him no darkness can the thing conceal. + A pagan once, of graceless heart and hollow, + Whose faith in gods, I'm apprehensive, + Was quite as real as expensive. + Consulted, at his shrine, the god Apollo. + 'Is what I hold alive, or not?' + Said he,--a sparrow having brought, + Prepared to wring its neck, or let it fly, + As need might be, to give the god the lie. + Apollo saw the trick, + And answer'd quick, + 'Dead or alive, show me your sparrow, + And cease to set for me a trap + Which can but cause yourself mishap. + I see afar, and far I shoot my arrow.' + +[25] Aesop. + + + + +XX.--THE MISER WHO HAD LOST HIS TREASURE.[26] + + 'Tis use that constitutes possession. + I ask that sort of men, whose passion + It is to get and never spend, + Of all their toil what is the end? + What they enjoy of all their labours + Which do not equally their neighbours? + Throughout this upper mortal strife, + The miser leads a beggar's life. + Old Aesop's man of hidden treasure + May serve the case to demonstrate. + He had a great estate, + But chose a second life to wait + Ere he began to taste his pleasure. + This man, whom gold so little bless'd, + Was not possessor, but possess'd. + His cash he buried under ground, + Where only might his heart be found; + It being, then, his sole delight + To ponder of it day and night, + And consecrate his rusty pelf, + A sacred offering, to himself. + In all his eating, drinking, travel, + Most wondrous short of funds he seem'd; + One would have thought he little dream'd + Where lay such sums beneath the gravel. + A ditcher mark'd his coming to the spot, + So frequent was it, + And thus at last some little inkling got + Of the deposit. + He took it all, and babbled not. + One morning, ere the dawn, + Forth had our miser gone + To worship what he loved the best, + When, lo! he found an empty nest! + Alas! what groaning, wailing, crying! + What deep and bitter sighing! + His torment makes him tear + Out by the roots his hair. + A passenger demandeth why + Such marvellous outcry. + 'They've got my gold! it's gone--it's gone!' + 'Your gold! pray where?'--'Beneath this stone.' + 'Why, man, is this a time of war, + That you should bring your gold so far? + You'd better keep it in your drawer; + And I'll be bound, if once but in it, + You could have got it any minute.' + 'At any minute! Ah, Heaven knows + That cash comes harder than it goes! + I touch'd it not.'--'Then have the grace + To explain to me that rueful face,' + Replied the man; 'for, if 'tis true + You touch'd it not, how plain the case, + That, put the stone back in its place, + And all will be as well for you!' + +[26] Aesop, and others. + + + + +XXI.--THE EYE OF THE MASTER.[27] + + A stag took refuge from the chase + Among the oxen of a stable, + Who counsel'd him, as saith the fable, + To seek at once some safer place. + 'My brothers,' said the fugitive, + 'Betray me not, and, as I live, + The richest pasture I will show, + That e'er was grazed on, high or low; + Your kindness you will not regret, + For well some day I'll pay the debt.' + The oxen promised secrecy. + Down crouch'd the stag, and breathed more free. + At eventide they brought fresh hay, + As was their custom day by day; + And often came the servants near, + As did indeed the overseer, + But with so little thought or care, + That neither horns, nor hide, nor hair + Reveal'd to them the stag was there. + Already thank'd the wild-wood stranger + The oxen for their treatment kind, + And there to wait made up his mind, + Till he might issue free from danger. + Replied an ox that chew'd the cud, + 'Your case looks fairly in the bud; + But then I fear the reason why + Is, that the man of sharpest eye + Hath not yet come his look to take. + I dread his coming, for your sake; + Your boasting may be premature: + Till then, poor stag, you're not secure.' + 'Twas but a little while before + The careful master oped the door. + 'How's this, my boys?' said he; + 'These empty racks will never do. + Go, change this dirty litter too. + More care than this I want to see + Of oxen that belong to me. + Well, Jim, my boy, you're young and stout; + What would it cost to clear these cobwebs out? + And put these yokes, and hames, and traces, + All as they should be, in their places?' + Thus looking round, he came to see + One head he did not usually. + The stag is found; his foes + Deal heavily their blows. + Down sinks he in the strife; + No tears can save his life. + They slay, and dress, and salt the beast, + And cook his flesh in many a feast, + And many a neighbour gets a taste. + As Phaedrus says it, pithily, + The master's is the eye to see:-- + I add the lover's, as for me. + +[27] Phaedrus, II. 8 (The Stag and the Oxen); and others. + + + + +XXII.--THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES WITH THE OWNER OF A FIELD.[28] + + "Depend upon yourself alone," + Has to a common proverb grown. + 'Tis thus confirm'd in Aesop's way:-- + The larks to build their nests are seen + Among the wheat-crops young and green; + That is to say, + What time all things, dame Nature heeding, + Betake themselves to love and breeding-- + The monstrous whales and sharks, + Beneath the briny flood, + The tigers in the wood, + And in the fields, the larks. + One she, however, of these last, + Found more than half the spring-time past + Without the taste of spring-time pleasures; + When firmly she set up her will + That she would be a mother still, + And resolutely took her measures;-- + First, got herself by Hymen match'd; + Then built her nest, laid, sat, and hatch'd. + All went as well as such things could. + The wheat-crop ripening ere the brood + Were strong enough to take their flight, + Aware how perilous their plight, + The lark went out to search for food, + And told her young to listen well, + And keep a constant sentinel. + 'The owner of this field,' said she, + 'Will come, I know, his grain to see. + Hear all he says; we little birds + Must shape our conduct by his words.' + No sooner was the lark away, + Than came the owner with his son. + 'This wheat is ripe,' said he: 'now run + And give our friends a call + To bring their sickles all, + And help us, great and small, + To-morrow, at the break of day.' + The lark, returning, found no harm, + Except her nest in wild alarm. + Says one, 'We heard the owner say, + Go, give our friends a call + To help, to-morrow, break of day.' + Replied the lark, 'If that is all, + We need not be in any fear, + But only keep an open ear. + As gay as larks, now eat your victuals.--' + They ate and slept--the great and littles. + The dawn arrives, but not the friends; + The lark soars up, the owner wends + His usual round to view his land. + 'This grain,' says he, 'ought not to stand. + Our friends do wrong; and so does he + Who trusts that friends will friendly be. + My son, go call our kith and kin + To help us get our harvest in.' + This second order made + The little larks still more afraid. + 'He sent for kindred, mother, by his son; + The work will now, indeed, be done.' + 'No, darlings; go to sleep; + Our lowly nest we'll keep.' + With reason said; for kindred there came none. + Thus, tired of expectation vain, + Once more the owner view'd his grain. + 'My son,' said he, 'we're surely fools + To wait for other people's tools; + As if one might, for love or pelf, + Have friends more faithful than himself! + Engrave this lesson deep, my son. + And know you now what must be done? + We must ourselves our sickles bring, + And, while the larks their matins sing, + Begin the work; and, on this plan, + Get in our harvest as we can.' + This plan the lark no sooner knew, + Than, 'Now's the time,' she said, 'my chicks;' + And, taking little time to fix, + Away they flew; + All fluttering, soaring, often grounding, + Decamp'd without a trumpet sounding. + +[28] Aesop (Aulus Gellus); Avianus. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK V. + + +I.--THE WOODMAN AND MERCURY.[1] + +To M. The Chevalier De Bouillon.[2] + + Your taste has served my work to guide; + To gain its suffrage I have tried. + You'd have me shun a care too nice, + Or beauty at too dear a price, + Or too much effort, as a vice. + My taste with yours agrees: + Such effort cannot please; + And too much pains about the polish + Is apt the substance to abolish; + Not that it would be right or wise + The graces all to ostracize. + You love them much when delicate; + Nor is it left for me to hate. + As to the scope of Aesop's plan,[3] + I fail as little as I can. + If this my rhymed and measured speech + Availeth not to please or teach, + I own it not a fault of mine; + Some unknown reason I assign. + With little strength endued + For battles rough and rude, + Or with Herculean arm to smite, + I show to vice its foolish plight. + In this my talent wholly lies; + Not that it does at all suffice. + My fable sometimes brings to view + The face of vanity purblind + With that of restless envy join'd; + And life now turns upon these pivots two. + Such is the silly little frog + That aped the ox upon her bog. + A double image sometimes shows + How vice and folly do oppose + The ways of virtue and good sense; + As lambs with wolves so grim and gaunt, + The silly fly and frugal ant. + Thus swells my work--a comedy immense-- + Its acts unnumber'd and diverse, + Its scene the boundless universe. + Gods, men, and brutes, all play their part + In fields of nature or of art, + And Jupiter among the rest. + Here comes the god who's wont to bear + Jove's frequent errands to the fair, + With winged heels and haste; + But other work's in hand to-day. + + A man that labour'd in the wood + Had lost his honest livelihood; + That is to say, + His axe was gone astray. + He had no tools to spare; + This wholly earn'd his fare. + Without a hope beside, + He sat him down and cried, + 'Alas, my axe! where can it be? + O Jove! but send it back to me, + And it shall strike good blows for thee.' + His prayer in high Olympus heard, + Swift Mercury started at the word. + 'Your axe must not be lost,' said he: + 'Now, will you know it when you see? + An axe I found upon the road.' + With that an axe of gold he show'd. + 'Is't this?' The woodman answer'd, 'Nay.' + An axe of silver, bright and gay, + Refused the honest woodman too. + At last the finder brought to view + An axe of iron, steel, and wood. + 'That's mine,' he said, in joyful mood; + 'With that I'll quite contented be.' + The god replied, 'I give the three, + As due reward of honesty.' + This luck when neighbouring choppers knew, + They lost their axes, not a few, + And sent their prayers to Jupiter + So fast, he knew not which to hear. + His winged son, however, sent + With gold and silver axes, went. + Each would have thought himself a fool + Not to have own'd the richest tool. + But Mercury promptly gave, instead + Of it, a blow upon the head. + With simple truth to be contented, + Is surest not to be repented; + But still there are who would + With evil trap the good,-- + Whose cunning is but stupid, + For Jove is never duped. + +[1] Aesop. There is also a version of the story in Rabelais, Book IV, + _Prologue_. +[2] La Fontaine's dedication is in initials thus:--"A. M. L. C. D. B." + which are interpreted by some as meaning, "To M. the Chevalier de + Bouillon" (as above), and by others as meaning, "To Monseigneur le + Cardinal de Bouillon." +[3] _Aesop's plan_.--Here, as in the dedication of Book VII., Fable + II., Book I., Fable I., Book III., Fable I., Book VI., Fable IV., + Book VIII., and Fable I., Book IX., the poet treats of the nature and + uses of Fable. + + + + +II.--THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT.[4] + + An iron pot proposed + To an earthen pot a journey. + The latter was opposed, + Expressing the concern he + Had felt about the danger + Of going out a ranger. + He thought the kitchen hearth + The safest place on earth + For one so very brittle. + 'For thee, who art a kettle, + And hast a tougher skin, + There's nought to keep thee in.' + 'I'll be thy body-guard,' + Replied the iron pot; + 'If anything that's hard + Should threaten thee a jot, + Between you I will go, + And save thee from the blow.' + This offer him persuaded. + The iron pot paraded + Himself as guard and guide + Close at his cousin's side. + Now, in their tripod way, + They hobble as they may; + And eke together bolt + At every little jolt,-- + Which gives the crockery pain; + But presently his comrade hits + So hard, he dashes him to bits, + Before he can complain. + + Take care that you associate + With equals only, lest your fate + Between these pots should find its mate. + +[4] Aesop. + + + + +III.--THE LITTLE FISH AND THE FISHER.[5] + + A little fish will grow, + If life be spared, a great; + But yet to let him go, + And for his growing wait, + May not be very wise, + As 'tis not sure your bait + Will catch him when of size. + Upon a river bank, a fisher took + A tiny troutling from his hook. + Said he, ''Twill serve to count, at least, + As the beginning of my feast; + And so I'll put it with the rest.' + This little fish, thus caught, + His clemency besought. + 'What will your honour do with me? + I'm not a mouthful, as you see. + Pray let me grow to be a trout, + And then come here and fish me out. + Some alderman, who likes things nice, + Will buy me then at any price. + But now, a hundred such you'll have to fish, + To make a single good-for-nothing dish.' + 'Well, well, be it so,' replied the fisher, + 'My little fish, who play the preacher, + The frying-pan must be your lot, + Although, no doubt, you like it not: + I fry the fry that can be got.' + + In some things, men of sense + Prefer the present to the future tense. + +[5] Aesop. + + + + +IV.--THE EARS OF THE HARE.[6] + + Some beast with horns did gore + The lion; and that sovereign dread, + Resolved to suffer so no more, + Straight banish'd from his realm, 'tis said, + All sorts of beasts with horns-- + Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns. + Such brutes all promptly fled. + A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving, + Could hardly help believing + That some vile spy for horns would take them, + And food for accusation make them. + 'Adieu,' said he, 'my neighbour cricket; + I take my foreign ticket. + My ears, should I stay here, + Will turn to horns, I fear; + And were they shorter than a bird's, + I fear the effect of words.' + 'These horns!' the cricket answer'd; 'why, + God made them ears who can deny?' + 'Yes,' said the coward, 'still they'll make them horns, + And horns, perhaps of unicorns! + In vain shall I protest, + With all the learning of the schools: + My reasons they will send to rest + In th' Hospital of Fools.'[7] + +[6] Faerno. +[7] _Hospital of Fools_, i.e., madhouse. + + + + +V.--THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF.[8] + + A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, + Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, + Whom none of his sort had caught in a nap, + Was finally caught in somebody's trap. + By luck he escaped, not wholly and hale, + For the price of his luck was the loss of his tail. + Escaped in this way, to save his disgrace, + He thought to get others in similar case. + One day that the foxes in council were met, + 'Why wear we,' said he, 'this cumbering weight, + Which sweeps in the dirt wherever it goes? + Pray tell me its use, if any one knows. + If the council will take my advice, + We shall dock off our tails in a trice.' + 'Your advice may be good,' said one on the ground; + 'But, ere I reply, pray turn yourself round.' + Whereat such a shout from the council was heard, + Poor bob-tail, confounded, could say not a word. + To urge the reform would have wasted his breath. + Long tails were the mode till the day of his death. + +[8] Aesop; Faerno. + + + + +VI.--THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO SERVANTS.[9] + + A beldam kept two spinning maids, + Who plied so handily their trades, + Those spinning sisters down below + Were bunglers when compared with these. + No care did this old woman know + But giving tasks as she might please. + No sooner did the god of day + His glorious locks enkindle, + Than both the wheels began to play, + And from each whirling spindle + Forth danced the thread right merrily, + And back was coil'd unceasingly. + Soon as the dawn, I say, its tresses show'd, + A graceless cock most punctual crow'd. + The beldam roused, more graceless yet, + In greasy petticoat bedight, + Struck up her farthing light, + And then forthwith the bed beset, + Where deeply, blessedly did snore + Those two maid-servants tired and poor. + One oped an eye, an arm one stretch'd, + And both their breath most sadly fetch'd, + This threat concealing in the sigh-- + 'That cursed cock shall surely die!' + And so he did:--they cut his throat, + And put to sleep his rousing note. + And yet this murder mended not + The cruel hardship of their lot; + For now the twain were scarce in bed + Before they heard the summons dread. + The beldam, full of apprehension + Lest oversleep should cause detention, + Ran like a goblin through her mansion. + Thus often, when one thinks + To clear himself from ill, + His effort only sinks + Him in the deeper still. + The beldam, acting for the cock, + Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock. + +[9] Aesop. + + + + +VII.--THE SATYR AND THE TRAVELLER.[10] + + Within a savage forest grot + A satyr and his chips + Were taking down their porridge hot; + Their cups were at their lips. + + You might have seen in mossy den, + Himself, his wife, and brood; + They had not tailor-clothes, like men, + But appetites as good. + + In came a traveller, benighted, + All hungry, cold, and wet, + Who heard himself to eat invited + With nothing like regret. + + He did not give his host the pain + His asking to repeat; + But first he blew with might and main + To give his fingers heat. + + Then in his steaming porridge dish + He delicately blew. + The wondering satyr said, 'I wish + The use of both I knew.' + + 'Why, first, my blowing warms my hand, + And then it cools my porridge.' + 'Ah!' said his host, 'then understand + I cannot give you storage. + 'To sleep beneath one roof with you, + I may not be so bold. + Far be from me that mouth untrue + Which blows both hot and cold.' + +[10] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE HORSE AND THE WOLF.[11] + + A wolf, what time the thawing breeze + Renews the life of plants and trees, + And beasts go forth from winter lair + To seek abroad their various fare,-- + A wolf, I say, about those days, + In sharp look-out for means and ways, + Espied a horse turn'd out to graze. + His joy the reader may opine. + 'Once got,' said he, 'this game were fine; + But if a sheep, 'twere sooner mine. + I can't proceed my usual way; + Some trick must now be put in play.' + This said, + He came with measured tread, + As if a healer of disease,-- + Some pupil of Hippocrates,-- + And told the horse, with learned verbs, + He knew the power of roots and herbs,-- + Whatever grew about those borders,-- + And not at all to flatter + Himself in such a matter, + Could cure of all disorders. + If he, Sir Horse, would not conceal + The symptoms of his case, + He, Doctor Wolf, would gratis heal; + For that to feed in such a place, + And run about untied, + Was proof itself of some disease, + As all the books decide. + 'I have, good doctor, if you please,' + Replied the horse, 'as I presume, + Beneath my foot, an aposthume.' + 'My son,' replied the learned leech, + 'That part, as all our authors teach, + Is strikingly susceptible + Of ills which make acceptable + What you may also have from me-- + The aid of skilful surgery; + Which noble art, the fact is, + For horses of the blood I practise.' + The fellow, with this talk sublime, + Watch'd for a snap the fitting time. + Meanwhile, suspicious of some trick, + The wary patient nearer draws, + And gives his doctor such a kick, + As makes a chowder of his jaws. + Exclaim'd the wolf, in sorry plight, + 'I own those heels have served me right. + I err'd to quit my trade, + As I will not in future; + Me nature surely made + For nothing but a butcher.' + +[11] Aesop; also in Faerno. + + + + +IX.--THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS.[12] + + The farmer's patient care and toil + Are oftener wanting than the soil. + + A wealthy ploughman drawing near his end, + Call'd in his sons apart from every friend, + And said, 'When of your sire bereft, + The heritage our fathers left + Guard well, nor sell a single field. + A treasure in it is conceal'd: + The place, precisely, I don't know, + But industry will serve to show. + The harvest past, Time's forelock take, + And search with plough, and spade, and rake; + Turn over every inch of sod, + Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod.' + The father died. The sons--and not in vain-- + Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; + That year their acres bore + More grain than e'er before. + Though hidden money found they none, + Yet had their father wisely done, + To show by such a measure, + That toil itself is treasure. + +[12] Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR.[13] + + A mountain was in travail pang; + The country with her clamour rang. + Out ran the people all, to see, + Supposing that the birth would be + A city, or at least a house. + It was a mouse! + + In thinking of this fable, + Of story feign'd and false, + But meaning veritable, + My mind the image calls + Of one who writes, "The war I sing + Which Titans waged against the Thunder-king."[14] + As on the sounding verses ring, + What will be brought to birth? + Why, dearth. + +[13] Phaedrus, IV. 22. +[14] _The War, &c._--The war of the Gods and Titans (sons of Heaven and + Earth); _vide_ Hesiod, _Theogony_, I. 1083, Bohn's ed. + + + + +XI.--FORTUNE AND THE BOY.[15] + + Beside a well, uncurb'd and deep, + A schoolboy laid him down to sleep: + (Such rogues can do so anywhere.) + If some kind man had seen him there, + He would have leap'd as if distracted; + But Fortune much more wisely acted; + For, passing by, she softly waked the child, + Thus whispering in accents mild: + 'I save your life, my little dear, + And beg you not to venture here + Again, for had you fallen in, + I should have had to bear the sin; + But I demand, in reason's name, + If for your rashness I'm to blame?' + With this the goddess went her way. + I like her logic, I must say. + There takes place nothing on this planet, + But Fortune ends, whoe'er began it. + In all adventures good or ill, + We look to her to foot the bill. + Has one a stupid, empty pate, + That serves him never till too late, + He clears himself by blaming Fate! + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE DOCTORS.[16] + + The selfsame patient put to test + Two doctors, Fear-the-worst and Hope-the-best. + The latter hoped; the former did maintain + The man would take all medicine in vain. + By different cures the patient was beset, + But erelong cancell'd nature's debt, + While nursed + As was prescribed by Fear-the-worst. + But over the disease both triumph'd still. + Said one, 'I well foresaw his death.' + 'Yes,' said the other, 'but my pill + Would certainly have saved his breath.' + +[16] Aesop, and others. + + + + +XIII.--THE HEN WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS.[17] + + How avarice loseth all, + By striving all to gain, + I need no witness call + But him whose thrifty hen, + As by the fable we are told, + Laid every day an egg of gold. + 'She hath a treasure in her body,' + Bethinks the avaricious noddy. + He kills and opens--vexed to find + All things like hens of common kind. + Thus spoil'd the source of all his riches, + To misers he a lesson teaches. + In these last changes of the moon, + How often doth one see + Men made as poor as he + By force of getting rich too soon! + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE ASS CARRYING RELICS.[18] + + An ass, with relics for his load, + Supposed the worship on the road + Meant for himself alone, + And took on lofty airs, + Receiving as his own + The incense and the prayers. + Some one, who saw his great mistake, + Cried, 'Master Donkey, do not make + Yourself so big a fool. + Not you they worship, but your pack; + They praise the idols on your back, + And count yourself a paltry tool.' + + 'Tis thus a brainless magistrate + Is honour'd for his robe of state. + +[18] Aesop; also Faerno. + + + + +XV.--THE STAG AND THE VINE.[19] + + A stag, by favour of a vine, + Which grew where suns most genial shine, + And form'd a thick and matted bower + Which might have turn'd a summer shower, + Was saved from ruinous assault. + The hunters thought their dogs at fault, + And call'd them off. In danger now no more + The stag, a thankless wretch and vile, + Began to browse his benefactress o'er. + The hunters, listening the while, + The rustling heard, came back, + With all their yelping pack, + And seized him in that very place. + 'This is,' said he, 'but justice, in my case. + Let every black ingrate + Henceforward profit by my fate.' + The dogs fell to--'twere wasting breath + To pray those hunters at the death. + They left, and we will not revile 'em, + A warning for profaners of asylum. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XVI.--THE SERPENT AND THE FILE.[20] + + A serpent, neighbour to a smith, + (A neighbour bad to meddle with,) + Went through his shop, in search of food, + But nothing found, 'tis understood, + To eat, except a file of steel, + Of which he tried to make a meal. + The file, without a spark of passion, + Address'd him in the following fashion:-- + 'Poor simpleton! you surely bite + With less of sense than appetite; + For ere from me you gain + One quarter of a grain, + You'll break your teeth from ear to ear. + Time's are the only teeth I fear.' + + This tale concerns those men of letters, + Who, good for nothing, bite their betters. + Their biting so is quite unwise. + Think you, ye literary sharks, + Your teeth will leave their marks + Upon the deathless works you criticise? + Fie! fie! fie! men! + To you they're brass--they're steel--they're diamond! + +[20] Phaedrus, Book IV. 8; also Aesop. + + + + +XVII.--THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE. + + Beware how you deride + The exiles from life's sunny side: + To you is little known + How soon their case may be your own. + On this, sage Aesop gives a tale or two, + As in my verses I propose to do. + A field in common share + A partridge and a hare, + And live in peaceful state, + Till, woeful to relate! + The hunters' mingled cry + Compels the hare to fly. + He hurries to his fort, + And spoils almost the sport + By faulting every hound + That yelps upon the ground. + At last his reeking heat + Betrays his snug retreat. + Old Tray, with philosophic nose, + Snuffs carefully, and grows + So certain, that he cries, + 'The hare is here; bow wow!' + And veteran Ranger now,-- + The dog that never lies,-- + 'The hare is gone,' replies. + Alas! poor, wretched hare, + Back comes he to his lair, + To meet destruction there! + The partridge, void of fear, + Begins her friend to jeer:-- + 'You bragg'd of being fleet; + How serve you, now, your feet?' + Scarce has she ceased to speak,-- + The laugh yet in her beak,-- + When comes her turn to die, + From which she could not fly. + She thought her wings, indeed, + Enough for every need; + But in her laugh and talk, + Forgot the cruel hawk! + + + + +XVIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.[21] + + The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease + Their war, embraced in pledge of peace. + On faith of king, on faith of owl, they swore + That they would eat each other's chicks no more. + 'But know you mine?' said Wisdom's bird.[22] + 'Not I, indeed,' the eagle cried. + 'The worse for that,' the owl replied: + 'I fear your oath's a useless word; + I fear that you, as king, will not + Consider duly who or what: + You kings and gods, of what's before ye, + Are apt to make one category. + Adieu, my young, if you should meet them!' + 'Describe them, then, or let me greet them, + And, on my life, I will not eat them,' + The eagle said. The owl replied: + 'My little ones, I say with pride, + For grace of form cannot be match'd,-- + The prettiest birds that e'er were hatch'd; + By this you cannot fail to know them; + 'Tis needless, therefore, that I show them. + Pray don't forget, but keep this mark in view, + Lest fate should curse my happy nest by you.' + At length God gives the owl a set of heirs, + And while at early eve abroad he fares, + In quest of birds and mice for food, + Our eagle haply spies the brood, + As on some craggy rock they sprawl, + Or nestle in some ruined wall, + (But which it matters not at all,) + And thinks them ugly little frights, + Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. + 'These chicks,' says he, 'with looks almost infernal, + Can't be the darlings of our friend nocturnal. + I'll sup of them.' And so he did, not slightly:-- + He never sups, if he can help it, lightly. + The owl return'd; and, sad, he found + Nought left but claws upon the ground. + He pray'd the gods above and gods below + To smite the brigand who had caused his woe. + Quoth one, 'On you alone the blame must fall; + Or rather on the law of nature, + Which wills that every earthly creature + Shall think its like the loveliest of all. + You told the eagle of your young ones' graces; + You gave the picture of their faces:-- + Had it of likeness any traces?' + +[21] Avianus; also Verdizotti. +[22] _Wisdom's bird_.--The owl was the bird of Minerva, as the eagle + was that of Jupiter. + + + + +XIX.--THE LION GOING TO WAR.[23] + + The lion had an enterprise in hand; + Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal, + And gave the animals a call impartial-- + Each, in his way, to serve his high command. + The elephant should carry on his back + The tools of war, the mighty public pack, + And fight in elephantine way and form; + The bear should hold himself prepared to storm; + The fox all secret stratagems should fix; + The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks. + 'Dismiss,' said one, 'the blockhead asses, + And hares, too cowardly and fleet.' + 'No,' said the king; 'I use all classes; + Without their aid my force were incomplete. + The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare + Our enemy. And then the nimble hare + Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear.' + + A monarch provident and wise + Will hold his subjects all of consequence, + And know in each what talent lies. + There's nothing useless to a man of sense. + +[23] Abstemius. + + + + +XX.--THE BEAR AND THE TWO COMPANIONS.[24] + + Two fellows, needing funds, and bold, + A bearskin to a furrier sold, + Of which the bear was living still, + But which they presently would kill-- + At least they said they would. + And, if their word was good, + It was a king of bears--an Ursa Major-- + The biggest bear beneath the sun. + Its skin, the chaps would wager, + Was cheap at double cost; + 'Twould make one laugh at frost-- + And make two robes as well as one. + Old Dindenaut,[25] in sheep who dealt, + Less prized his sheep, than they their pelt-- + (In their account 'twas theirs, + But in his own, the bears.) + By bargain struck upon the skin, + Two days at most must bring it in. + Forth went the two. More easy found than got, + The bear came growling at them on the trot. + Behold our dealers both confounded, + As if by thunderbolt astounded! + Their bargain vanish'd suddenly in air; + For who could plead his interest with a bear? + One of the friends sprung up a tree; + The other, cold as ice could be, + Fell on his face, feign'd death, + And closely held his breath,-- + He having somewhere heard it said + The bear ne'er preys upon the dead. + Sir Bear, sad blockhead, was deceived-- + The prostrate man a corpse believed; + But, half suspecting some deceit, + He feels and snuffs from head to feet, + And in the nostrils blows. + The body's surely dead, he thinks. + 'I'll leave it,' says he, 'for it stinks;' + And off into the woods he goes. + The other dealer, from his tree + Descending cautiously, to see + His comrade lying in the dirt, + Consoling, says, 'It is a wonder + That, by the monster forced asunder, + We're, after all, more scared than hurt. + But,' addeth he, 'what of the creature's skin? + He held his muzzle very near; + What did he whisper in your ear?' + 'He gave this caution,--"Never dare + Again to sell the skin of bear + Its owner has not ceased to wear."'[26] + +[24] Versions will be found in Aesop, Avianus, and Abstemius. +[25] _Old Dindenaut_.--_Vide_ Rabelais, _Pantagruel_, Book IV. + chap. viii.--Translator. + The character in Rabelais is a sheep-stealer as well as a + sheep-dealer. +[26] According to Philip de Commines, the Emperor Frederic III. of + Germany used a story conveying the substance of this fable, with its + moral of _Never sell your bear-skin till the beast is dead_, as + his sole reply to the ambassadors of the French king when that + monarch sent him proposals for dividing between them the provinces + of the Duke of Burgundy. The meaning of which was, says de Commines, + "That if the King came according to his promise, they would take the + Duke, if they could; and when he was taken, they would talk of + dividing his dominions."--_Vide_ Bohn's edition of the "Memoirs of + De Commines," vol. i., p. 246. + + + + +XXI.--THE ASS DRESSED IN THE LION'S SKIN.[27] + + Clad in a lion's shaggy hide, + An ass spread terror far and wide, + And, though himself a coward brute, + Put all the world to scampering rout: + But, by a piece of evil luck, + A portion of an ear outstuck, + Which soon reveal'd the error + Of all the panic-terror. + Old Martin did his office quick. + Surprised were all who did not know the trick, + To see that Martin,[28] at his will, + Was driving lions to the mill! + + In France, the men are not a few + Of whom this fable proves too true; + Whose valour chiefly doth reside + In coat they wear and horse they ride. + +[27] Aesop, and Avianus. +[28] _Martin_.--Martin-baton, again as in Fable V., Book IV. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VI. + + +I.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION.[1] + + Of fables judge not by their face; + They give the simplest brute a teacher's place. + Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; + The story gives them life and wings. + But story for the story's sake + Were sorry business for the wise; + As if, for pill that one should take, + You gave the sugary disguise. + For reasons such as these, + Full many writers great and good + Have written in this frolic mood, + And made their wisdom please. + But tinsel'd style they all have shunn'd with care; + With them one never sees a word to spare. + Of Phaedrus some have blamed the brevity, + While Aesop uses fewer words than he. + A certain Greek,[2] however, beats + Them both in his larconic feats. + Each tale he locks in verses four; + The well or ill I leave to critic lore. + At Aesop's side to see him let us aim, + Upon a theme substantially the same. + The one selects a lover of the chase; + A shepherd comes, the other's tale to grace. + Their tracks I keep, though either tale may grow + A little in its features as I go. + + The one which Aesop tells is nearly this:-- + A shepherd from his flock began to miss, + And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep. + Before a cavern, dark and deep, + Where wolves retired by day to sleep, + Which he suspected as the thieves, + He set his trap among the leaves; + And, ere he left the place, + He thus invoked celestial grace:-- + 'O king of all the powers divine, + Against the rogue but grant me this delight, + That this my trap may catch him in my sight, + And I, from twenty calves of mine, + Will make the fattest thine.' + But while the words were on his tongue, + Forth came a lion great and strong. + Down crouch'd the man of sheep, and said, + With shivering fright half dead, + 'Alas! that man should never be aware + Of what may be the meaning of his prayer! + To catch the robber of my flocks, + O king of gods, I pledged a calf to thee: + If from his clutches thou wilt rescue me, + I'll raise my offering to an ox.' + + 'Tis thus the master-author[3] tells the story: + Now hear the rival of his glory. + +[1] Aesop. +[2] _A certain Greek_.--Gabrias.--La Fontaine. This is Babrias, the + Greek fabulist, to whom La Fontaine gives the older form of his name. + La Fontaine's strictures on this "rival" of Aesop proceed from the + fact that he read the author in the corrupted form of the edition by + Ignatius Magister (ninth century). It was not till a century after La + Fontaine wrote, that the fame of Babrias was cleared by Bentley and + Tyrwhitt, who brought his Fables to light in their original form. +[3] _Master-author, &c._--The "master-author" is Aesop; the rival, + Gabrias, or Babrias. The last line refers the reader to the following + fable for comparison. In the original editions of La Fontaine, the + two fables appear together with the heading "Fables I. et II." + + + + +II.--THE LION AND THE HUNTER.[4] + + A braggart, lover of the chase, + Had lost a dog of valued race, + And thought him in a lion's maw. + He ask'd a shepherd whom he saw, + 'Pray show me, man, the robber's place, + And I'll have justice in the case.' + ''Tis on this mountain side,' + The shepherd man replied. + 'The tribute of a sheep I pay, + Each month, and where I please I stray.' + Out leap'd the lion as he spake, + And came that way, with agile feet. + The braggart, prompt his flight to take, + Cried, 'Jove, O grant a safe retreat!' + + A danger close at hand + Of courage is the test. + It shows us who will stand-- + Whose legs will run their best. + +[4] Gabrias, or Babrias; and Aesop. See note to preceding fable. + + + + +III.--PHOEBUS AND BOREAS.[5] + + Old Boreas and the sun, one day + Espied a traveller on his way, + Whose dress did happily provide + Against whatever might betide. + The time was autumn, when, indeed, + All prudent travellers take heed. + The rains that then the sunshine dash, + And Iris with her splendid sash, + Warn one who does not like to soak + To wear abroad a good thick cloak. + Our man was therefore well bedight + With double mantle, strong and tight. + 'This fellow,' said the wind, 'has meant + To guard from every ill event; + But little does he wot that I + Can blow him such a blast + That, not a button fast, + His cloak shall cleave the sky. + Come, here's a pleasant game, Sir Sun! + Wilt play?' Said Phoebus, 'Done! + We'll bet between us here + Which first will take the gear + From off this cavalier. + Begin, and shut away. + The brightness of my ray.' + 'Enough.' Our blower, on the bet, + Swell'd out his pursy form + With all the stuff for storm-- + The thunder, hail, and drenching wet, + And all the fury he could muster; + Then, with a very demon's bluster, + He whistled, whirl'd, and splash'd, + And down the torrents dash'd, + Full many a roof uptearing + He never did before, + Full many a vessel bearing + To wreck upon the shore,-- + And all to doff a single cloak. + But vain the furious stroke; + The traveller was stout, + And kept the tempest out, + Defied the hurricane, + Defied the pelting rain; + And as the fiercer roar'd the blast, + His cloak the tighter held he fast. + The sun broke out, to win the bet; + He caused the clouds to disappear, + Refresh'd and warm'd the cavalier, + And through his mantle made him sweat, + Till off it came, of course, + In less than half an hour; + And yet the sun saved half his power.-- + So much doth mildness more than force. + +[5] Aesop and Lokman; also P. Hegemon. + + + + +IV.--JUPITER AND THE FARMER.[6] + + Of yore, a farm had Jupiter to rent; + To advertise it, Mercury was sent. + The farmers, far and near, + Flock'd round, the terms to hear; + And, calling to their aid + The various tricks of trade, + One said 'twas rash a farm to hire + Which would so much expense require; + Another, that, do what you would, + The farm would still be far from good. + While thus, in market style, its faults were told, + One of the crowd, less wise than bold, + Would give so much, on this condition, + That Jove would yield him altogether + The choice and making of his weather,-- + That, instantly on his decision, + His various crops should feel the power + Of heat or cold, of sun or shower. + + Jove yields. The bargain closed, our man + Rains, blows, and takes the care + Of all the changes of the air, + On his peculiar, private plan. + His nearest neighbours felt it not, + And all the better was their lot. + Their year was good, by grace divine; + The grain was rich, and full the vine. + The renter, failing altogether, + The next year made quite different weather; + And yet the fruit of all his labours + Was far inferior to his neighbours'. + What better could he do? To Heaven + He owns at last his want of sense, + And so is graciously forgiven. + Hence we conclude that Providence + Knows better what we need + Than we ourselves, indeed. + +[6] Aesop; and Faerno. + + + + +V.--THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.[7] + + A youthful mouse, not up to trap, + Had almost met a sad mishap. + The story hear him thus relate, + With great importance, to his mother:-- + 'I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate, + And off was trotting on another, + Like some young rat with nought to do + But see things wonderful and new, + When two strange creatures came in view. + The one was mild, benign, and gracious; + The other, turbulent, rapacious, + With voice terrific, shrill, and rough, + And on his head a bit of stuff + That look'd like raw and bloody meat, + Raised up a sort of arms, and beat + The air, as if he meant to fly, + And bore his plumy tail on high.' + + A cock, that just began to crow, + As if some nondescript, + From far New Holland shipp'd, + Was what our mousling pictured so. + 'He beat his arms,' said he, 'and raised his voice, + And made so terrible a noise, + That I, who, thanks to Heaven, may justly boast + Myself as bold as any mouse, + Scud off, (his voice would even scare a ghost!) + And cursed himself and all his house; + For, but for him, I should have staid, + And doubtless an acquaintance made + With her who seem'd so mild and good. + Like us, in velvet cloak and hood, + She wears a tail that's full of grace, + A very sweet and humble face,-- + No mouse more kindness could desire,-- + And yet her eye is full of fire. + I do believe the lovely creature + A friend of rats and mice by nature. + Her ears, though, like herself, they're bigger, + Are just like ours in form and figure. + To her I was approaching, when, + Aloft on what appear'd his den, + The other scream'd,--and off I fled.' + 'My son,' his cautious mother said, + 'That sweet one was the cat, + The mortal foe of mouse and rat, + Who seeks by smooth deceit, + Her appetite to treat. + So far the other is from that, + We yet may eat + His dainty meat; + Whereas the cruel cat, + Whene'er she can, devours + No other meat than ours.' + + Remember while you live, + It is by looks that men deceive. + +[7] Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE ANIMALS.[8] + + Left kingless by the lion's death, + The beasts once met, our story saith, + Some fit successor to install. + Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place, + The crown was brought, and, taken from its case, + And being tried by turns on all, + The heads of most were found too small; + Some horned were, and some too big; + Not one would fit the regal gear. + For ever ripe for such a rig, + The monkey, looking very queer, + Approach'd with antics and grimaces, + And, after scores of monkey faces, + With what would seem a gracious stoop, + Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop. + The beasts, diverted with the thing, + Did homage to him as their king. + The fox alone the vote regretted, + But yet in public never fretted. + When he his compliments had paid + To royalty, thus newly made, + 'Great sire, I know a place,' said he, + 'Where lies conceal'd a treasure, + Which, by the right of royalty, + Should bide your royal pleasure.' + The king lack'd not an appetite + For such financial pelf, + And, not to lose his royal right, + Ran straight to see it for himself. + It was a trap, and he was caught. + Said Renard, 'Would you have it thought, + You ape, that you can fill a throne, + And guard the rights of all, alone, + Not knowing how to guard your own?' + + The beasts all gather'd from the farce, + That stuff for kings is very scarce. + +[8] Aesop; also Faerno. + + + + +VII.--THE MULE BOASTING OF HIS GENEALOGY.[9] + + A prelate's mule of noble birth was proud, + And talk'd, incessantly and loud, + Of nothing but his dam, the mare, + Whose mighty deeds by him recounted were,-- + This had she done, and had been present there,-- + By which her son made out his claim + To notice on the scroll of Fame. + Too proud, when young, to bear a doctor's pill; + When old, he had to turn a mill. + As there they used his limbs to bind, + His sire, the ass, was brought to mind. + Misfortune, were its only use + The claims of folly to reduce, + And bring men down to sober reason, + Would be a blessing in its season. + +[9] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.[10] + + An old man, riding on his ass, + Had found a spot of thrifty grass, + And there turn'd loose his weary beast. + Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, + Flung up his heels, and caper'd round, + Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground, + And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd, + And many a clean spot made. + Arm'd men came on them as he fed: + 'Let's fly,' in haste the old man said. + 'And wherefore so?' the ass replied; + 'With heavier burdens will they ride?' + 'No,' said the man, already started. + 'Then,' cried the ass, as he departed, + 'I'll stay, and be--no matter whose; + Save you yourself, and leave me loose. + But let me tell you, ere you go, + (I speak plain French, you know,) + My master is my only foe.' + +[10] Phaedras. I. 15. + + + + +IX.--THE STAG SEEING HIMSELF IN THE WATER.[11] + + Beside a placid, crystal flood, + A stag admired the branching wood + That high upon his forehead stood, + But gave his Maker little thanks + For what he call'd his spindle shanks. + 'What limbs are these for such a head!-- + So mean and slim!' with grief he said. + 'My glorious heads o'ertops + The branches of the copse; + My legs are my disgrace.' + As thus he talk'd, a bloodhound gave him chase. + To save his life he flew + Where forests thickest grew. + His horns,--pernicious ornament!-- + Arresting him where'er he went, + Did unavailing render + What else, in such a strife, + Had saved his precious life-- + His legs, as fleet as slender. + Obliged to yield, he cursed the gear + Which nature gave him every year. + + Too much the beautiful we prize; + The useful, often, we despise: + Yet oft, as happen'd to the stag, + The former doth to ruin drag. + +[11] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I.12. + + + + +X.--THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.[12] + + To win a race, the swiftness of a dart + Availeth not without a timely start. + The hare and tortoise are my witnesses. + Said tortoise to the swiftest thing that is, + 'I'll bet that you'll not reach, so soon as I + The tree on yonder hill we spy.' + 'So soon! Why, madam, are you frantic?' + Replied the creature, with an antic; + 'Pray take, your senses to restore, + A grain or two of hellebore.'[13] + 'Say,' said the tortoise, 'what you will; + I dare you to the wager still.' + 'Twas done; the stakes were paid, + And near the goal tree laid-- + Of what, is not a question for this place, + Nor who it was that judged the race. + Our hare had scarce five jumps to make, + Of such as he is wont to take, + When, starting just before their beaks + He leaves the hounds at leisure, + Thence till the kalends of the Greeks,[14] + The sterile heath to measure. + Thus having time to browse and doze, + And list which way the zephyr blows, + He makes himself content to wait, + And let the tortoise go her gait + In solemn, senatorial state. + She starts; she moils on, modestly and lowly, + And with a prudent wisdom hastens slowly; + But he, meanwhile, the victory despises, + Thinks lightly of such prizes, + Believes it for his honour + To take late start and gain upon her. + So, feeding, sitting at his ease, + He meditates of what you please, + Till his antagonist he sees + Approach the goal; then starts, + Away like lightning darts: + But vainly does he run; + The race is by the tortoise won. + Cries she, 'My senses do I lack? + What boots your boasted swiftness now? + You're beat! and yet, you must allow, + I bore my house upon my back.' + +[12] Aesop; also Lokman. +[13] _Hellebore_.--The ancient remedy for insanity. +[14] _Kalends of the Greeks_.--The Greeks, unlike the Romans, had no + kalends in their computation of time, hence the frequent use of this + expression to convey the idea of an indefinite period of time. + + + + +XI.--THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS.[15] + + A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny + Of being made to rise before the dawn. + 'The cocks their matins have not sung,' said he, + 'Ere I am up and gone. + And all for what? To market herbs, it seems. + Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!' + Fate, moved by such a prayer, + Sent him a currier's load to bear, + Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, + They almost choked the foolish beast. + 'I wish me with my former lord,' he said; + 'For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, + If on the watch, I caught + A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought. + But, in this horrid place, I find + No chance or windfall of the kind:-- + Or if, indeed, I do, + The cruel blows I rue.' + Anon it came to pass + He was a collier's ass. + Still more complaint. 'What now?' said Fate, + Quite out of patience. + 'If on this jackass I must wait, + What will become of kings and nations? + Has none but he aught here to tease him? + Have I no business but to please him?' + And Fate had cause;--for all are so. + Unsatisfied while here below + Our present lot is aye the worst. + Our foolish prayers the skies infest. + Were Jove to grant all we request, + The din renew'd, his head would burst. + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[16] + + Rejoicing on their tyrant's wedding-day, + The people drown'd their care in drink; + While from the general joy did Aesop shrink, + And show'd its folly in this way. + 'The sun,' said he, 'once took it in his head + To have a partner for his bed. + From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs, + Up rose the wailings of the frogs. + "What shall we do, should he have progeny?" + Said they to Destiny; + "One sun we scarcely can endure, + And half-a-dozen, we are sure, + Will dry the very sea. + Adieu to marsh and fen! + Our race will perish then, + Or be obliged to fix + Their dwelling in the Styx!" + For such an humble animal, + The frog, I take it, reason'd well.' + +[16] There is another fable with this title, viz., Fable XXIV., Book XII. + This fable in its earlier form will be found in Phaedrus, I.6. + + + + +XIII.--THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT.[17] + + 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 forked 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. + +[17] Aesop; also Phaedrus, IV.18. + + + + +XIV.--THE SICK LION AND THE FOX.[18] + + Sick in his den, we understand, + The king of beasts sent out command + That of his vassals every sort + Should send some deputies to court-- + With promise well to treat + Each deputy and suite; + On faith of lion, duly written, + None should be scratch'd, much less be bitten. + The royal will was executed, + And some from every tribe deputed; + The foxes, only, would not come. + One thus explain'd their choice of home:-- + 'Of those who seek the court, we learn, + The tracks upon the sand + Have one direction, and + Not one betokens a return. + This fact begetting some distrust, + His majesty at present must + Excuse us from his great levee. + His plighted word is good, no doubt; + But while how beasts get in we see, + We do not see how they get out.' + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XV.--THE FOWLER, THE HAWK, AND THE LARK.[19] + + From wrongs of wicked men we draw + Excuses for our own:-- + Such is the universal law. + Would you have mercy shown, + Let yours be clearly known. + + A fowler's mirror served to snare + The little tenants of the air. + A lark there saw her pretty face, + And was approaching to the place. + A hawk, that sailed on high + Like vapour in the sky, + Came down, as still as infant's breath, + On her who sang so near her death. + She thus escaped the fowler's steel, + The hawk's malignant claws to feel. + While in his cruel way, + The pirate pluck'd his prey, + Upon himself the net was sprung. + 'O fowler,' pray'd he in the hawkish tongue, + 'Release me in thy clemency! + I never did a wrong to thee.' + The man replied, ''Tis true; + And did the lark to you?' + +[19] Abstemius, 3. + + + + +XVI.--THE HORSE AND THE ASS.[20] + + In such a world, all men, of every grade, + Should each the other kindly aid; + For, if beneath misfortune's goad + A neighbour falls, on you will fall his load. + + There jogg'd in company an ass and horse; + Nought but his harness did the last endorse; + The other bore a load that crush'd him down, + And begg'd the horse a little help to give, + Or otherwise he could not reach the town. + 'This prayer,' said he, 'is civil, I believe; + One half this burden you would scarcely feel.' + The horse refused, flung up a scornful heel, + And saw his comrade die beneath the weight:-- + And saw his wrong too late; + For on his own proud back + They put the ass's pack, + And over that, beside, + They put the ass's hide. + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XVII.--THE DOG THAT DROPPED THE SUBSTANCE FOR THE SHADOW.[21] + + This world is full of shadow-chasers, + Most easily deceived. + Should I enumerate these racers, + I should not be believed. + I send them all to Aesop's dog, + Which, crossing water on a log, + Espied the meat he bore, below; + To seize its image, let it go; + Plunged in; to reach the shore was glad, + With neither what he hoped, nor what he'd had. + +[21] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I. 4. + + + + +XVIII.--THE CARTER IN THE MIRE.[22] + + The Phaeton who drove a load of hay + Once found his cart bemired. + Poor man! the spot was far away + From human help--retired, + In some rude country place, + In Brittany, as near as I can trace, + Near Quimper Corentan,-- + A town that poet never sang,-- + Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, + When she would rouse the man to special wrath. + May Heaven preserve us from that route! + But to our carter, hale and stout:-- + Fast stuck his cart; he swore his worst, + And, fill'd with rage extreme, + The mud-holes now he cursed, + And now he cursed his team, + And now his cart and load,-- + Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. + Upon the god he call'd at length, + Most famous through the world for strength. + 'O, help me, Hercules!' cried he; + 'For if thy back of yore + This burly planet bore, + Thy arm can set me free.' + This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke + A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke:-- + 'The suppliant must himself bestir, + Ere Hercules will aid confer. + Look wisely in the proper quarter, + To see what hindrance can be found; + Remove the execrable mud and mortar, + Which, axle-deep, beset thy wheels around. + Thy sledge and crowbar take, + And pry me up that stone, or break; + Now fill that rut upon the other side. + Hast done it?' 'Yes,' the man replied. + 'Well,' said the voice, 'I'll aid thee now; + Take up thy whip.' 'I have ... but, how? + My cart glides on with ease! + I thank thee, Hercules.' + 'Thy team,' rejoin'd the voice, 'has light ado; + So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too.' + +[22] Avianus; also Faerno; also Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 23, Bohn's + edition. + + + + +XIX.--THE CHARLATAN.[23] + + The world has never lack'd its charlatans, + More than themselves have lack'd their plans. + One sees them on the stage at tricks + Which mock the claims of sullen Styx. + What talents in the streets they post! + One of them used to boast + Such mastership of eloquence + That he could make the greatest dunce + Another Tully Cicero + In all the arts that lawyers know. + 'Ay, sirs, a dunce, a country clown, + The greatest blockhead of your town,-- + Nay more, an animal, an ass,-- + The stupidest that nibbles grass,-- + Needs only through my course to pass, + And he shall wear the gown + With credit, honour, and renown.' + The prince heard of it, call'd the man, thus spake: + 'My stable holds a steed + Of the Arcadian breed,[24] + Of which an orator I wish to make.' + 'Well, sire, you can,' + Replied our man. + At once his majesty + Paid the tuition fee. + Ten years must roll, and then the learned ass + Should his examination pass, + According to the rules + Adopted in the schools; + If not, his teacher was to tread the air, + With halter'd neck, above the public square,-- + His rhetoric bound on his back, + And on his head the ears of jack. + A courtier told the rhetorician, + With bows and terms polite, + He would not miss the sight + Of that last pendent exhibition; + For that his grace and dignity + Would well become such high degree; + And, on the point of being hung, + He would bethink him of his tongue, + And show the glory of his art,-- + The power to melt the hardest heart,-- + And wage a war with time + By periods sublime-- + A pattern speech for orators thus leaving, + Whose work is vulgarly call'd thieving. + 'Ah!' was the charlatan's reply, + 'Ere that, the king, the ass, or I, + Shall, one or other of us, die.' + And reason good had he; + We count on life most foolishly, + Though hale and hearty we may be. + In each ten years, death cuts down one in three. + +[23] Abstemius. +[24] _Steed of the Arcadian breed_.--An ass, as in Fable XVII, Book VIII. + + + + +XX.--DISCORD. + + The goddess Discord, having made, on high, + Among the gods a general grapple, + And thence a lawsuit, for an apple, + Was turn'd out, bag and baggage, from the sky. + The animal call'd man, with open arms, + Received the goddess of such naughty charms,-- + Herself and Whether-or-no, her brother, + With Thine-and-mine, her stingy mother. + In this, the lower universe, + Our hemisphere she chose to curse: + For reasons good she did not please + To visit our antipodes-- + Folks rude and savage like the beasts, + Who, wedding-free from forms and priests, + In simple tent or leafy bower, + Make little work for such a power. + That she might know exactly where + Her direful aid was in demand, + Renown flew courier through the land, + Reporting each dispute with care; + Then she, outrunning Peace, was quickly there; + And if she found a spark of ire, + Was sure to blow it to a fire. + At length, Renown got out of patience + At random hurrying o'er the nations, + And, not without good reason, thought + A goddess, like her mistress, ought + To have some fix'd and certain home, + To which her customers might come; + For now they often search'd in vain. + With due location, it was plain + She might accomplish vastly more, + And more in season than before. + To find, howe'er, the right facilities, + Was harder, then, than now it is; + For then there were no nunneries. + + So, Hymen's inn at last assign'd, + Thence lodged the goddess to her mind.[25] + +[25] La Fontaine, gentle reader, does not mean to say that Discord lodges + with all married people, but that the foul fiend is never better + satisfied than when she can find such accommodation.--Translator. + + + + +XXI.--THE YOUNG WIDOW.[26] + + A husband's death brings always sighs; + The widow sobs, sheds tears--then dries. + Of Time the sadness borrows wings; + And Time returning pleasure brings. + Between the widow of a year + And of a day, the difference + Is so immense, + That very few who see her + Would think the laughing dame + And weeping one the same. + The one puts on repulsive action, + The other shows a strong attraction. + The one gives up to sighs, or true or false; + The same sad note is heard, whoever calls. + Her grief is inconsolable, + They say. Not so our fable, + Or, rather, not so says the truth. + + To other worlds a husband went + And left his wife in prime of youth. + Above his dying couch she bent, + And cried, 'My love, O wait for me! + My soul would gladly go with thee!' + (But yet it did not go.) + The fair one's sire, a prudent man, + Check'd not the current of her woe. + At last he kindly thus began:-- + 'My child, your grief should have its bound. + What boots it him beneath the ground + That you should drown your charms? + Live for the living, not the dead. + I don't propose that you be led + At once to Hymen's arms; + But give me leave, in proper time, + To rearrange the broken chime + With one who is as good, at least, + In all respects, as the deceased.' + 'Alas!' she sigh'd, 'the cloister vows + Befit me better than a spouse.' + The father left the matter there. + About one month thus mourn'd the fair; + Another month, her weeds arranged; + Each day some robe or lace she changed, + Till mourning dresses served to grace, + And took of ornament the place. + The frolic band of loves + Came flocking back like doves. + Jokes, laughter, and the dance, + The native growth of France, + Had finally their turn; + And thus, by night and morn, + She plunged, to tell the truth, + Deep in the fount of youth. + Her sire no longer fear'd + The dead so much endear'd; + But, as he never spoke, + Herself the silence broke:-- + 'Where is that youthful spouse,' said she, + 'Whom, sir, you lately promised me?' + +[26] Abstemius. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + Here check we our career: + Long books I greatly fear. + I would not quite exhaust my stuff; + The flower of subjects is enough. + To me, the time is come, it seems, + To draw my breath for other themes. + Love, tyrant of my life, commands + That other work be on my hands. + I dare not disobey. + Once more shall Psyche be my lay. + I'm call'd by Damon to portray + Her sorrows and her joys. + I yield: perhaps, while she employs, + My muse will catch a richer glow; + And well if this my labour'd strain + Shall be the last and only pain + Her spouse[27] shall cause me here below. + +[27] _Her spouse_.--Cupid, the spouse of Psyche. The "other work on + my hands" mentioned in this Epilogue (the end of the poet's first + collection of Fables) was no doubt the writing of his "Psyche," + which was addressed to his patron the Duchess de Bouillon, and + published in 1659, the year following the publication of the first + six Books of the Fables. See also Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VII.[1] + + +To Madame De Montespan[2] + + The apologue[3] is from the immortal gods; + Or, if the gift of man it is, + Its author merits apotheosis. + Whoever magic genius lauds + Will do what in him lies + To raise this art's inventor to the skies. + It hath the potence of a charm, + On dulness lays a conquering arm, + Subjects the mind to its control, + And works its will upon the soul. + O lady, arm'd with equal power, + If e'er within celestial bower, + With messmate gods reclined, + My muse ambrosially hath dined, + Lend me the favour of a smile + On this her playful toil. + If you support, the tooth of time will shun, + And let my work the envious years outrun. + If authors would themselves survive, + To gain your suffrage they should strive. + On you my verses wait to get their worth; + To you my beauties all will owe their birth,-- + For beauties you will recognize + Invisible to other eyes. + Ah! who can boast a taste so true, + Of beauty or of grace, + In either thought or face? + For words and looks are equal charms in you. + Upon a theme so sweet, the truth to tell, + My muse would gladly dwell: + But this employ to others I must yield;-- + A greater master claims the field. + For me, fair lady, 'twere enough + Your name should be my wall and roof. + Protect henceforth the favour'd book + Through which for second life I look. + In your auspicious light, + These lines, in envy's spite, + Will gain the glorious meed, + That all the world shall read. + 'Tis not that I deserve such fame;-- + I only ask in Fable's name, + (You know what credit that should claim;) + And, if successfully I sue, + A fane will be to Fable due,-- + A thing I would not build--except for you. + +[1] Here commences the second collection of La Fontaine's Fables, + comprising Books VII. to XI. This collection was published in 1678-9, + ten years after the publication of the foregoing six Books. See + Translator's Preface. +[2] _Madame de Montespan_.--Francoise-Athenais de Rochechouart de + Mortemart, Marquise de Montespan, born 1641, died 1707. She + became one of the mistresses of the "Grand Monarque," Louis XIV., in + 1668. +[3] _The apologue._--Here, as in the opening fable of Books V. and + VI., and elsewhere, La Fontaine defines Fable and defends the art of + the Fabulist. + + + + +I.--THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.[4] + + The sorest ill that Heaven hath + Sent on this lower world in wrath,-- + The plague (to call it by its name,) + One single day of which + Would Pluto's ferryman enrich,-- + Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. + They died not all, but all were sick: + No hunting now, by force or trick, + To save what might so soon expire. + No food excited their desire; + Nor wolf nor fox now watch'd to slay + The innocent and tender prey. + The turtles fled; + So love and therefore joy were dead. + The lion council held, and said: + 'My friends, I do believe + This awful scourge, for which we grieve, + Is for our sins a punishment + Most righteously by Heaven sent. + Let us our guiltiest beast resign, + A sacrifice to wrath divine. + Perhaps this offering, truly small, + May gain the life and health of all. + By history we find it noted + That lives have been just so devoted. + Then let us all turn eyes within, + And ferret out the hidden sin. + Himself let no one spare nor flatter, + But make clean conscience in the matter. + For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton + Too much and often upon mutton. + What harm had e'er my victims done? + I answer, truly, None. + Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, + I've eat the shepherd with the rest. + I yield myself, if need there be; + And yet I think, in equity, + Each should confess his sins with me; + For laws of right and justice cry, + The guiltiest alone should die.' + 'Sire,' said the fox, 'your majesty + Is humbler than a king should be, + And over-squeamish in the case. + What! eating stupid sheep a crime? + No, never, sire, at any time. + It rather was an act of grace, + A mark of honour to their race. + And as to shepherds, one may swear, + The fate your majesty describes, + Is recompense less full than fair + For such usurpers o'er our tribes.' + + Thus Renard glibly spoke, + And loud applause from flatterers broke. + Of neither tiger, boar, nor bear, + Did any keen inquirer dare + To ask for crimes of high degree; + The fighters, biters, scratchers, all + From every mortal sin were free; + The very dogs, both great and small, + Were saints, as far as dogs could be. + + The ass, confessing in his turn, + Thus spoke in tones of deep concern:-- + 'I happen'd through a mead to pass; + The monks, its owners, were at mass; + Keen hunger, leisure, tender grass, + And add to these the devil too, + All tempted me the deed to do. + I browsed the bigness of my tongue; + Since truth must out, I own it wrong.' + + On this, a hue and cry arose, + As if the beasts were all his foes: + A wolf, haranguing lawyer-wise, + Denounced the ass for sacrifice-- + The bald-pate, scabby, ragged lout, + By whom the plague had come, no doubt. + His fault was judged a hanging crime. + 'What? eat another's grass? O shame! + The noose of rope and death sublime,' + For that offence, were all too tame! + And soon poor Grizzle felt the same. + + Thus human courts acquit the strong, + And doom the weak, as therefore wrong. + +[4] One of the most original as well as one of the most beautiful of the + poet's fables, yet much of the groundwork of its story may be traced + in the Fables of Bidpaii and other collections. See also note to + Fable XXII., Book I. + + + + +II.--THE ILL-MARRIED. + + If worth, were not a thing more rare + Than beauty in this planet fair, + There would be then less need of care + About the contracts Hymen closes. + But beauty often is the bait + To love that only ends in hate; + And many hence repent too late + Of wedding thorns from wooing roses.[5] + My tale makes one of these poor fellows, + Who sought relief from marriage vows, + Send back again his tedious spouse, + Contentious, covetous, and jealous, + With nothing pleased or satisfied, + This restless, comfort-killing bride + Some fault in every one descried. + Her good man went to bed too soon, + Or lay in bed till almost noon. + Too cold, too hot,--too black, too white,-- + Were on her tongue from morn till night. + The servants mad and madder grew; + The husband knew not what to do. + 'Twas, 'Dear, you never think or care;' + And, 'Dear, that price we cannot bear;' + And, 'Dear, you never stay at home;' + And, 'Dear, I wish you would just come;' + Till, finally, such ceaseless dearing + Upon her husband's patience wearing, + Back to her sire's he sent his wife, + To taste the sweets of country life, + To dance at will the country jigs, + And feed the turkeys, geese, and pigs. + In course of time, he hoped his bride + Might have her temper mollified; + Which hope he duly put to test. + His wife recall'd, said he, + 'How went with you your rural rest, + From vexing cares and fashions free? + Its peace and quiet did you gain,-- + Its innocence without a stain?' + 'Enough of all,' said she; 'but then + To see those idle, worthless men + Neglect the flocks, it gave me pain. + I told them, plainly, what I thought, + And thus their hatred quickly bought; + For which I do not care--not I.' + 'Ah, madam,' did her spouse reply, + 'If still your temper's so morose, + And tongue so virulent, that those + Who only see you morn and night + Are quite grown weary of the sight, + What, then, must be your servants' case, + Who needs must see you face to face, + Throughout the day? + And what must be the harder lot + Of him, I pray, + Whose days and nights + With you must be by marriage rights? + Return you to your father's cot. + If I recall you in my life, + Or even wish for such a wife, + Let Heaven, in my hereafter, send + Two such, to tease me without end!' + +[5] The badinage of La Fontaine having been misunderstood, the + translator has altered the introduction to this fable. The intention + of the fable is to recommend prudence and good nature, not celibacy. + So the peerless Granville understands it, for his pencil tells us + that the hero of the fable did finally recall his wife, + notwithstanding his fearful imprecation. It seems that even she was + better than none.--Translator; (in his sixth edition). + + + + +III.--THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD. + + The sage Levantines have a tale + About a rat that weary grew + Of all the cares which life assail, + And to a Holland cheese withdrew. + His solitude was there profound, + Extending through his world so round. + Our hermit lived on that within; + And soon his industry had been + With claws and teeth so good, + That in his novel hermitage, + He had in store, for wants of age, + Both house and livelihood. + What more could any rat desire? + He grew fair, fat, and round. + 'God's blessings thus redound + To those who in His vows retire.'[6] + One day this personage devout, + Whose kindness none might doubt, + Was ask'd, by certain delegates + That came from Rat-United-States, + For some small aid, for they + To foreign parts were on their way, + For succour in the great cat-war. + Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, + Their whole republic drain'd and poor, + No morsel in their scrips they bore. + Slight boon they craved, of succour sure + In days at utmost three or four. + 'My friends,' the hermit said, + 'To worldly things I'm dead. + How can a poor recluse + To such a mission be of use? + What can he do but pray + That God will aid it on its way? + And so, my friends, it is my prayer + That God will have you in his care.' + His well-fed saintship said no more, + But in their faces shut the door. + What think you, reader, is the service + For which I use this niggard rat? + To paint a monk? No, but a dervise. + A monk, I think, however fat, + Must be more bountiful than that. + +[6] _God's blessing, &c_.--So the rat himself professed to consider the + matter.--Translator. + + + + +IV.--THE HERON.[7] + + One day,--no matter when or where,-- + A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare + By a certain river's brink, + With his long, sharp beak + Helved on his slender neck; + 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. + The water was clear and still, + The carp and the pike there at will + Pursued their silent fun, + Turning up, ever and anon, + A golden side to the sun. + With ease might the heron have made + Great profits in his fishing trade. + So near came the scaly fry, + They might be caught by the passer-by. + But he thought he better might + Wait for a better appetite-- + For he lived by rule, and could not eat, + Except at his hours, the best of meat. + Anon his appetite return'd once more; + So, approaching again the shore, + He saw some tench taking their leaps, + Now and then, from their lowest deeps. + With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, + He turn'd away from such food as that. + 'What, tench for a heron! poh! + I scorn the thought, and let them go.' + The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; + 'For all that,' said the bird, 'I budge on. + I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, + For such mean little fishes as these.' + He did it for less; + For it came to pass, + That not another fish could he see; + And, at last, so hungry was he, + That he thought it of some avail + To find on the bank a single snail. + Such is the sure result + Of being too difficult. + Would you be strong and great, + Learn to accommodate. + Get what you can, and trust for the rest; + The whole is oft lost by seeking the best. + Above all things beware of disdain; + Where, at most, you have little to gain. + The people are many that make + Every day this sad mistake. + 'Tis not for the herons I put this case, + Ye featherless people, of human race. + --List to another tale as true, + And you'll hear the lesson brought home to you.[8] + +[7] Abstemius. +[8] _The lesson brought home to you_. The two last lines refer the + reader to the next fable. + + + + +V.--THE MAID.[9] + + A certain maid, as proud as fair, + A husband thought to find + Exactly to her mind-- + Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, + Not cold nor jealous;--mark this well. + Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle + Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit, + And all good qualities to fit-- + A man 'twere difficult to get. + Kind Fate, however, took great care + To grant, if possible, her prayer. + There came a-wooing men of note; + The maiden thought them all, + By half, too mean and small. + 'They marry me! the creatures dote:-- + Alas! poor souls! their case I pity.' + (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.) + Some were less delicate than witty; + Some had the nose too short or long; + In others something else was wrong; + Which made each in the maiden's eyes + An altogether worthless prize. + Profound contempt is aye the vice + Which springs from being over-nice, + Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then + Came offers from inferior men. + The maid, more scornful than before, + Took credit to her tender heart + For giving then an open door. + 'They think me much in haste to part + With independence! God be thank'd + My lonely nights bring no regret; + Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret, + Should I with ancient maids be rank'd.' + Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair: + Age made them only thoughts that were. + Adieu to lovers:--passing years + Awaken doubts and chilling fears. + Regret, at last, brings up the train. + Day after day she sees, with pain, + Some smile or charm take final flight, + And leave the features of a 'fright.' + Then came a hundred sorts of paint: + But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint, + Avail'd to hide the cause of grief, + Or bar out Time, that graceless thief. + A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, + May be repair'd and made a new one. + Alas! for ruins of the face + No such rebuilding e'er takes place. + Her daintiness now changed its tune; + Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon!' + So did a certain wish within, + With more of secrecy than sin,-- + A wish that dwells with even prudes, + Annihilating solitudes. + This maiden's choice was past belief, + She soothing down her restless grief, + And smoothing it of every ripple, + By marrying a cripple. + +[9] This fable should be read in conjunction with the foregoing one. + + + + +VI.--THE WISHES. + + Within the Great Mogul's domains there are + Familiar sprites of much domestic use: + They sweep the house, and take a tidy care + Of equipage, nor garden work refuse; + But, if you meddle with their toil, + The whole, at once, you're sure to spoil. + One, near the mighty Ganges flood, + The garden of a burgher good + Work'd noiselessly and well; + To master, mistress, garden, bore + A love that time and toil outwore, + And bound him like a spell. + Did friendly zephyrs blow, + The demon's pains to aid? + (For so they do, 'tis said.) + I own I do not know. + But for himself he rested not, + And richly bless'd his master's lot. + What mark'd his strength of love, + He lived a fixture on the place, + In spite of tendency to rove + So natural to his race. + But brother sprites conspiring + With importunity untiring, + So teased their goblin chief, that he, + Of his caprice, or policy, + Our sprite commanded to attend + A house in Norway's farther end, + Whose roof was snow-clad through the year, + And shelter'd human kind with deer. + Before departing to his hosts + Thus spake this best of busy ghosts:-- + 'To foreign parts I'm forced to go! + For what sad fault I do not know;-- + But go I must; a month's delay, + Or week's perhaps, and I'm away. + Seize time; three wishes make at will; + For three I'm able to fulfil-- + No more.' Quick at their easy task, + Abundance first these wishers ask-- + Abundance, with her stores unlock'd-- + Barns, coffers, cellars, larder, stock'd-- + Corn, cattle, wine, and money,-- + The overflow of milk and honey. + But what to do with all this wealth! + What inventories, cares, and worry! + What wear of temper and of health! + Both lived in constant, slavish hurry. + Thieves took by plot, and lords by loan; + The king by tax, the poor by tone. + Thus felt the curses which + Arise from being rich,-- + 'Remove this affluence!' they pray; + The poor are happier than they + Whose riches make them slaves. + 'Go, treasures, to the winds and waves; + Come, goddess of the quiet breast, + Who sweet'nest toil with rest, + Dear Mediocrity, return!' + The prayer was granted as we learn. + Two wishes thus expended, + Had simply ended + In bringing them exactly where, + When they set out they were. + So, usually, it fares + With those who waste in such vain prayers + The time required by their affairs. + The goblin laugh'd, and so did they. + However, ere he went away, + To profit by his offer kind, + They ask'd for wisdom, wealth of mind,-- + A treasure void of care and sorrow-- + A treasure fearless of the morrow, + Let who will steal, or beg, or borrow. + + + + + +VII.--THE LION'S COURT.[10] + + His lion majesty would know, one day, + What bestial tribes were subject to his sway. + He therefore gave his vassals all, + By deputies a call, + Despatching everywhere + A written circular, + Which bore his seal, and did import + His majesty would hold his court + A month most splendidly;-- + A feast would open his levee, + Which done, Sir Jocko's sleight + Would give the court delight. + By such sublime magnificence + The king would show his power immense. + + Now were they gather'd all + Within the royal hall.-- + And such a hall! The charnel scent + Would make the strongest nerves relent. + The bear put up his paw to close + The double access of his nose. + The act had better been omitted; + His throne at once the monarch quitted, + And sent to Pluto's court the bear, + To show his delicacy there. + The ape approved the cruel deed, + A thorough flatterer by breed. + He praised the prince's wrath and claws, + He praised the odour and its cause. + Judged by the fragrance of that cave, + The amber of the Baltic wave, + The rose, the pink, the hawthorn bank, + Might with the vulgar garlic rank. + The mark his flattery overshot, + And made him share poor Bruin's lot; + This lion playing in his way, + The part of Don Caligula. + The fox approach'd. 'Now,' said the king, + 'Apply your nostrils to this thing, + And let me hear, without disguise, + The judgment of a beast so wise.' + The fox replied, 'Your Majesty will please + Excuse'--and here he took good care to sneeze;-- + 'Afflicted with a dreadful cold, + Your majesty need not be told: + My sense of smell is mostly gone.' + + From danger thus withdrawn, + He teaches us the while, + That one, to gain the smile + Of kings, must hold the middle place + 'Twixt blunt rebuke and fulsome praise; + And sometimes use with easy grace, + The language of the Norman race.[11] + +[10] Phaedrus. IV. 13. +[11] The Normans are proverbial among the French for the oracular + noncommittal of their responses.--_Un Normand_, says the proverb, + _a son dit et son detit._--Translator. + + + + +VIII.--THE VULTURES AND THE PIGEONS.[12] + + Mars once made havoc in the air: + Some cause aroused a quarrel there + Among the birds;--not those that sing, + The courtiers of the merry Spring, + And by their talk, in leafy bowers, + Of loves they feel, enkindle ours; + Nor those which Cupid's mother yokes + To whirl on high her golden spokes; + But naughty hawk and vulture folks, + Of hooked beak and talons keen. + The carcass of a dog, 'tis said, + Had to this civil carnage led. + Blood rain'd upon the swarded green, + And valiant deeds were done, I ween. + But time and breath would surely fail + To give the fight in full detail; + Suffice to say, that chiefs were slain, + And heroes strow'd the sanguine plain, + Till old Prometheus, in his chains, + Began to hope an end of pains. + 'Twas sport to see the battle rage, + And valiant hawk with hawk engage; + 'Twas pitiful to see them fall,-- + Torn, bleeding, weltering, gasping, all. + Force, courage, cunning, all were plied; + Intrepid troops on either side + No effort spared to populate + The dusky realms of hungry Fate. + This woful strife awoke compassion + Within another feather'd nation, + Of iris neck and tender heart. + They tried their hand at mediation-- + To reconcile the foes, or part. + The pigeon people duly chose + Ambassadors, who work'd so well + As soon the murderous rage to quell, + And stanch the source of countless woes. + A truce took place, and peace ensued. + Alas! the people dearly paid + Who such pacification made! + Those cursed hawks at once pursued + The harmless pigeons, slew and ate, + Till towns and fields were desolate. + Small prudence had the friends of peace + To pacify such foes as these! + + The safety of the rest requires + The bad should flesh each other's spears: + Whoever peace with them desires + Had better set them by the ears. + +[12] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE COACH AND THE FLY.[13] + + Upon a sandy, uphill road, + Which naked in the sunshine glow'd, + Six lusty horses drew a coach. + Dames, monks, and invalids, its load, + On foot, outside, at leisure trode. + The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd: + Whereon there did a fly approach, + And, with a vastly business air. + Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz,-- + Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there, + As neatly as a jockey does,-- + And thought the while--he knew 'twas so-- + He made the team and carriage go,-- + On carriage-pole sometimes alighting-- + Or driver's nose--and biting. + And when the whole did get in motion, + Confirm'd and settled in the notion, + He took, himself, the total glory,-- + Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry, + And, as he buzz'd about the cattle, + Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle, + The files and squadrons leading on + To where the victory is won. + Thus charged with all the commonweal, + This single fly began to feel + Responsibility too great, + And cares, a grievous crushing weight; + And made complaint that none would aid + The horses up the tedious hill-- + The monk his prayers at leisure said-- + Fine time to pray!--the dames, at will, + Were singing songs--not greatly needed! + Thus in their ears he sharply sang, + And notes of indignation ran,-- + Notes, after all, not greatly heeded. + Erelong the coach was on the top: + 'Now,' said the fly, 'my hearties, stop + And breathe;--I've got you up the hill; + And Messrs. Horses, let me say, + I need not ask you if you will + A proper compensation pay.' + + Thus certain ever-bustling noddies + Are seen in every great affair; + Important, swelling, busy-bodies, + And bores 'tis easier to bear + Than chase them from their needless care. + +[13] Aesop; also Phaedrus, III., 6. + + + + +X.--THE DAIRYWOMAN AND THE POT OF MILK. + + A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, + Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; + Short clad and light, with speed she went, + Not fearing any accident; + Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, + Her dress that day, + The truth to say, + Was simple petticoat and slipper. + And, thus bedight, + Good Peggy, light,-- + Her gains already counted,-- + Laid out the cash + At single dash, + Which to a hundred eggs amounted. + Three nests she made, + Which, by the aid + Of diligence and care were hatch'd. + 'To raise the chicks, + I'll easy fix,' + Said she, 'beside our cottage thatch'd. + The fox must get + More cunning yet, + Or leave enough to buy a pig. + With little care + And any fare, + He'll grow quite fat and big; + And then the price + Will be so nice, + For which, the pork will sell! + 'Twill go quite hard + But in our yard + I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell-- + A calf to frisk among the flock!' + The thought made Peggy do the same; + And down at once the milk-pot came, + And perish'd with the shock. + Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! + Your mistress' face is sad to view; + She gives a tear to fortune spilt; + Then with the downcast look of guilt + Home to her husband empty goes, + Somewhat in danger of his blows. + + Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air + His cots, or seats, or castles fair? + From kings to dairy women,--all,-- + The wise, the foolish, great and small,-- + Each thinks his waking dream the best. + Some flattering error fills the breast: + The world with all its wealth is ours, + Its honours, dames, and loveliest bowers. + Instinct with valour, when alone, + I hurl the monarch from his throne; + The people, glad to see him dead, + Elect me monarch in his stead, + And diadems rain on my head. + Some accident then calls me back, + And I'm no more than simple Jack.[14] + +[14] This and the following fable should be read together. See note to + next fable. + + + + +XI.--THE CURATE AND THE CORPSE.[15] + + A dead man going slowly, sadly, + To occupy his last abode, + A curate by him, rather gladly, + Did holy service on the road. + Within a coach the dead was borne, + A robe around him duly worn, + Of which I wot he was not proud-- + That ghostly garment call'd a shroud. + In summer's blaze and winter's blast, + That robe is changeless--'tis the last. + The curate, with his priestly dress on, + Recited all the church's prayers, + The psalm, the verse, response, and lesson, + In fullest style of such affairs. + Sir Corpse, we beg you, do not fear + A lack of such things on your bier; + They'll give abundance every way, + Provided only that you pay. + The Reverend John Cabbagepate + Watch'd o'er the corpse as if it were + A treasure needing guardian care; + And all the while, his looks elate, + This language seem'd to hold: + 'The dead will pay so much in gold, + So much in lights of molten wax, + So much in other sorts of tax:' + With all he hoped to buy a cask of wine, + The best which thereabouts produced the vine. + A pretty niece, on whom he doted, + And eke his chambermaid, should be promoted, + By being newly petticoated. + The coach upset, and dash'd to pieces, + Cut short these thoughts of wine and nieces! + There lay poor John with broken head, + Beneath the coffin of the dead! + His rich, parishioner in lead + Drew on the priest the doom + Of riding with him to the tomb! + + The Pot of Milk,[16] and fate + Of Curate Cabbagepate, + As emblems, do but give + The history of most that live. + +[15] This fable is founded upon a fact, which is related by Madame de + Sevigne in her _Letters_ under date Feb. 26, 1672, as + follows:--"M. Boufflers has killed a man since his death: the + circumstance was this: they were carrying him about a league from + Boufflers to inter him; the corpse was on a bier in a coach; his own + curate attended it; the coach overset, and the bier falling upon the + curate's neck choaked him." M. de Boufflers had fallen down dead a + few days before. He was the eldest brother of the Duke de Boufflers. + In another _Letter_, March 3, 1672, Madame de Sevigne + says:--"Here is Fontaine's fable too, on the adventure of M. de + Boufflers' curate, who was killed in the coach by his dead patron. + There was something very extraordinary in the affair itself: the + fable is pretty; but not to be compared to the one that follows it: + I do not understand the Milk-pot." +[16] This allusion to the preceding fable must be the "milk-pot" which + Madame de Sevigne did "not understand" (_vide_ last note); + Madame can hardly have meant the "milk-pot" fable, which is easily + understood. She often saw La Fontaine's work before it was + published, and the date of her letter quoted at p. 161 shows that + she must so have seen the "Curate and the Corpse," and that, + perhaps, without so seeing the "Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk." + + + + +XII.--THE MAN WHO RAN AFTER FORTUNE, AND THE MAN WHO WAITED FOR HER IN +HIS BED. + + Who joins not with his restless race + To give Dame Fortune eager chase? + O, had I but some lofty perch, + From which to view the panting crowd + Of care-worn dreamers, poor and proud, + As on they hurry in the search, + From realm to realm, o'er land and water, + Of Fate's fantastic, fickle daughter! + Ah! slaves sincere of flying phantom! + Just as their goddess they would clasp, + The jilt divine eludes their grasp, + And flits away to Bantam! + Poor fellows! I bewail their lot. + And here's the comfort of my ditty; + For fools the mark of wrath are not + So much, I'm sure, as pity. + 'That man,' say they, and feed their hope, + 'Raised cabbages--and now he's pope. + Don't we deserve as rich a prize?' + Ay, richer? But, hath Fortune eyes? + And then the popedom, is it worth + The price that must be given?-- + Repose?--the sweetest bliss of earth, + And, ages since, of gods in heaven? + 'Tis rarely Fortune's favourites + Enjoy this cream of all delights. + Seek not the dame, and she will you-- + A truth which of her sex is true. + + Snug in a country town + A pair of friends were settled down. + One sigh'd unceasingly to find + A fortune better to his mind, + And, as he chanced his friend to meet, + Proposed to quit their dull retreat. + 'No prophet can to honour come,' + Said he, 'unless he quits his home; + Let's seek our fortune far and wide.' + 'Seek, if you please,' his friend replied: + 'For one, I do not wish to see + A better clime or destiny. + I leave the search and prize to you; + Your restless humour please pursue! + You'll soon come back again. + I vow to nap it here till then.' + The enterprising, or ambitious, + Or, if you please, the avaricious, + Betook him to the road. + The morrow brought him to a place + The flaunting goddess ought to grace + As her particular abode-- + I mean the court--whereat he staid, + And plans for seizing Fortune laid. + He rose, and dress'd, and dined, and went to bed, + Exactly as the fashion led: + In short, he did whate'er he could, + But never found the promised good. + Said he, 'Now somewhere else I'll try-- + And yet I fail'd I know not why; + For Fortune here is much at home + To this and that I see her come, + Astonishingly kind to some. + And, truly, it is hard to see + The reason why she slips from me. + 'Tis true, perhaps, as I've been told, + That spirits here may be too bold. + To courts and courtiers all I bid adieu; + Deceitful shadows they pursue. + The dame has temples in Surat; + I'll go and see them--that is flat.' + To say so was t' embark at once. + O, human hearts are made of bronze! + His must have been of adamant, + Beyond the power of Death to daunt, + Who ventured first this route to try, + And all its frightful risks defy. + 'Twas more than once our venturous wight + Did homeward turn his aching sight, + When pirate's, rocks, and calms and storms, + Presented death in frightful forms-- + Death sought with pains on distant shores, + Which soon as wish'd for would have come, + Had he not left the peaceful doors + Of his despised but blessed home. + Arrived, at length, in Hindostan, + The people told our wayward man + That Fortune, ever void of plan, + Dispensed her favours in Japan. + And on he went, the weary sea + His vessel bearing lazily. + This lesson, taught by savage men, + Was after all his only gain:-- + Contented in thy country stay, + And seek thy wealth in nature's way. + Japan refused to him, no less + Than Hindostan, success; + And hence his judgment came to make + His quitting home a great mistake. + Renouncing his ungrateful course, + He hasten'd back with all his force; + And when his village came in sight, + His tears were proof of his delight. + 'Ah, happy he,' exclaimed the wight, + 'Who, dwelling there with mind sedate, + Employs himself to regulate + His ever-hatching, wild desires; + Who checks his heart when it aspires + To know of courts, and seas, and glory, + More than he can by simple story; + Who seeks not o'er the treacherous wave-- + More treacherous Fortune's willing slave-- + The bait of wealth and honours fleeting, + Held by that goddess, aye retreating. + Henceforth from home I budge no more!' + Pop on his sleeping friends he came, + Thus purposing against the dame, + And found her sitting at his door.[17] + +[17] See note to preceding fable, for Madame de Sevigne's opinion. + + + + +XIII.--THE TWO COCKS.[18] + + Two cocks in peace were living, when + A war was kindled by a hen. + O love, thou bane of Troy! 'twas thine + The blood of men and gods to shed + Enough to turn the Xanthus red + As old Port wine! + And long the battle doubtful stood: + (I mean the battle of the cocks;) + They gave each other fearful shocks: + The fame spread o'er the neighbourhood, + And gather'd all the crested brood. + And Helens more than one, of plumage bright, + Led off the victor of that bloody fight. + The vanquish'd, drooping, fled, + Conceal'd his batter'd head, + And in a dark retreat + Bewail'd his sad defeat. + His loss of glory and the prize + His rival now enjoy'd before his eyes. + While this he every day beheld, + His hatred kindled, courage swell'd: + He whet his beak, and flapp'd his wings, + And meditated dreadful things. + Waste rage! His rival flew upon a roof + And crow'd to give his victory proof.-- + A hawk this boasting heard: + Now perish'd all his pride, + As suddenly he died + Beneath that savage bird. + In consequence of this reverse, + The vanquish'd sallied from his hole, + And took the harem, master sole, + For moderate penance not the worse. + Imagine the congratulation, + The proud and stately leading, + Gallanting, coaxing, feeding, + Of wives almost a nation! + 'Tis thus that Fortune loves to flee + The insolent by victory. + We should mistrust her when we beat, + Lest triumph lead us to defeat. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE INGRATITUDE AND INJUSTICE OF MEN TOWARDS FORTUNE.[19] + + A trader on the sea to riches grew; + Freight after freight the winds in favour blew; + Fate steer'd him clear; gulf, rock, nor shoal + Of all his bales exacted toll. + Of other men the powers of chance and storm + Their dues collected in substantial form; + While smiling Fortune, in her kindest sport, + Took care to waft his vessels to their port. + His partners, factors, agents, faithful proved; + His goods--tobacco, sugar, spice-- + Were sure to fetch the highest price. + By fashion and by folly loved, + His rich brocades and laces, + And splendid porcelain vases, + Enkindling strong desires, + Most readily found buyers. + In short, gold rain'd where'er he went-- + Abundance, more than could be spent-- + Dogs, horses, coaches, downy bedding-- + His very fasts were like a wedding. + A bosom friend, a look his table giving, + Inquired whence came such sumptuous living. + 'Whence should it come,' said he, superb of brow, + 'But from the fountain of my knowing how? + I owe it simply to my skill and care + In risking only where the marts will bear.' + And now, so sweet his swelling profits were, + He risk'd anew his former gains: + Success rewarded not his pains-- + His own imprudence was the cause. + One ship, ill-freighted, went awreck; + Another felt of arms the lack, + When pirates, trampling on the laws, + O'ercame, and bore it off a prize. + A third, arriving at its port, + Had fail'd to sell its merchandize,-- + The style and folly of the court + Not now requiring such a sort. + His agents, factors, fail'd;--in short, + The man himself, from pomp and princely cheer, + And palaces, and parks, and dogs, and deer, + Fell down to poverty most sad and drear. + His friend, now meeting him in shabby plight, + Exclaim'd, 'And whence comes this to pass?' + 'From Fortune,' said the man, 'alas!' + 'Console yourself,' replied the friendly wight: + 'For, if to make you rich the dame denies, + She can't forbid you to be wise.' + + What faith he gain'd, I do not wis; + I know, in every case like this, + Each claims the credit of his bliss, + And with a heart ingrate + Imputes his misery to Fate.[20] + +[19] Abstemius. +[20] On this favourite subject with the easy-going La Fontaine--man's + ungracious treatment of Fortune--see also the two preceding fables, + and some neighbouring ones. + + + + +XV.--THE FORTUNE-TELLERS. + + 'Tis oft from chance opinion takes its rise, + And into reputation multiplies. + This prologue finds pat applications + In men of all this world's vocations; + For fashion, prejudice, and party strife, + Conspire to crowd poor justice out of life. + What can you do to counteract + This reckless, rushing cataract? + 'Twill have its course for good or bad, + As it, indeed, has always had. + + A dame in Paris play'd the Pythoness[21] + With much of custom, and, of course, success. + Was any trifle lost, or did + Some maid a husband wish, + Or wife of husband to be rid, + Or either sex for fortune fish, + Resort was had to her with gold, + To get the hidden future told. + Her art was made of various tricks, + Wherein the dame contrived to mix, + With much assurance, learned terms. + Now, chance, of course, sometimes confirms; + And just as often as it did, + The news was anything but hid. + In short, though, as to ninety-nine per cent., + The lady knew not what her answers meant, + Borne up by ever-babbling Fame, + An oracle she soon became. + A garret was this woman's home, + Till she had gain'd of gold a sum + That raised the station of her spouse-- + Bought him an office and a house. + As she could then no longer bear it, + Another tenanted the garret. + To her came up the city crowd,-- + Wives, maidens, servants, gentry proud,-- + To ask their fortunes, as before; + A Sibyl's cave was on her garret floor: + Such custom had its former mistress drawn + It lasted even when herself was gone. + It sorely tax'd the present mistress' wits + To satisfy the throngs of teasing cits. + 'I tell your fortunes! joke, indeed! + Why, gentlemen, I cannot read! + What can you, ladies, learn from me, + Who never learn'd my A, B, C?' + Avaunt with reasons! tell she must,-- + Predict as if she understood, + And lay aside more precious dust + Than two the ablest lawyers could. + The stuff that garnish'd out her room-- + Four crippled chairs, a broken broom-- + Help'd mightily to raise her merits,-- + Full proof of intercourse with spirits! + Had she predicted e'er so truly, + On floor with carpet cover'd duly, + Her word had been a mockery made. + The fashion set upon the garret. + Doubt that?--none bold enough to dare it! + The other woman lost her trade. + + All shopmen know the force of signs, + And so, indeed, do some divines. + In palaces, a robe awry + Has sometimes set the wearer high; + And crowds his teaching will pursue + Who draws the greatest listening crew. + Ask, if you please, the reason why. + +[21] _Pythoness_.--The Pythoness was the priestess who gave out the + oracles at Delphi. + + + + +XVI.--THE CAT, THE WEASEL, AND THE YOUNG RABBIT.[22] + + John Rabbit's palace under ground + Was once by Goody Weasel found. + She, sly of heart, resolved to seize + The place, and did so at her ease. + She took possession while its lord + Was absent on the dewy sward, + Intent upon his usual sport, + A courtier at Aurora's court. + When he had browsed his fill of clover + And cut his pranks all nicely over, + Home Johnny came to take his drowse, + All snug within his cellar-house. + The weasel's nose he came to see, + Outsticking through the open door. + 'Ye gods of hospitality!' + Exclaim'd the creature, vexed sore, + 'Must I give up my father's lodge? + Ho! Madam Weasel, please to budge, + Or, quicker than a weasel's dodge, + I'll call the rats to pay their grudge!' + The sharp-nosed lady made reply, + That she was first to occupy. + The cause of war was surely small-- + A house where one could only crawl! + And though it were a vast domain, + Said she, 'I'd like to know what will + Could grant to John perpetual reign,-- + The son of Peter or of Bill,-- + More than to Paul, or even me.' + John Rabbit spoke--great lawyer he-- + Of custom, usage, as the law, + Whereby the house, from sire to son, + As well as all its store of straw, + From Peter came at length to John. + Who could present a claim, so good + As he, the first possessor, could? + 'Now,' said the dame, 'let's drop dispute, + And go before Raminagrobis, [23] + Who'll judge, not only in this suit, + But tell us truly whose the globe is.' + This person was a hermit cat, + A cat that play'd the hypocrite, + A saintly mouser, sleek and fat, + An arbiter of keenest wit. + John Rabbit in the judge concurr'd, + And off went both their case to broach + Before his majesty, the furr'd. + Said Clapperclaw, 'My kits, approach, + And put your noses to my ears: + I'm deaf, almost, by weight of years.' + And so they did, not fearing aught. + The good apostle, Clapperclaw, + Then laid on each a well-arm'd paw, + And both to an agreement brought, + By virtue of his tusked jaw. + + This brings to mind the fate + Of little kings before the great. + +[22] Fables of Bidpaii, "The Rat and the Cat." In Knatchbull's English + edition it will be found at p. 275. Also in the Lokman Collection. +[23] _Raminagrobis._--This name occurs in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 21), where, however, it is not the name of a cat, but of a + poet--understood to be meant for Guillaume Cretin, who lived in the + times of Kings Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. See note to + Bohn's edition of Rabelais. + + + + +XVII.--THE HEAD AND THE TAIL OF THE SERPENT.[24] + + Two parts the serpent has-- + Of men the enemies-- + The head and tail: the same + Have won a mighty fame, + Next to the cruel Fates;-- + So that, indeed, hence + They once had great debates + About precedence. + The first had always gone ahead; + The tail had been for ever led; + And now to Heaven it pray'd, + And said, + 'O, many and many a league, + Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, + Behind his back I go. + Shall he for ever use me so? + Am I his humble servant; + No. Thanks to God most fervent! + His brother I was born, + And not his slave forlorn. + The self-same blood in both, + I'm just as good as he: + A poison dwells in me + As virulent as doth[25] + In him. In mercy, heed, + And grant me this decree, + That I, in turn, may lead-- + My brother, follow me. + My course shall be so wise, + That no complaint shall rise.' + + With cruel kindness Heaven granted + The very thing he blindly wanted: + To such desires of beasts and men, + Though often deaf, it was not then. + At once this novel guide, + That saw no more in broad daylight + Than in the murk of darkest night, + His powers of leading tried, + Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, + And led his brother straight to Styx. + And to the same unlovely home, + Some states by such an error come. + +[24] Plutarch's Lives, _Agis_, "The fable of the servant, enforcing + the moral that you cannot have the same man both for your governor + and your slave." +[25] An ancient mistake in natural history.--Translator. + + + + +XVIII.--AN ANIMAL IN THE MOON.[26] + + While one philosopher[27] affirms + That by our senses we're deceived, + Another[28] swears, in plainest terms, + The senses are to be believed. + The twain are right. Philosophy + Correctly calls us dupes whene'er + Upon mere senses we rely. + But when we wisely rectify + The raw report of eye or ear, + By distance, medium, circumstance, + In real knowledge we advance. + These things hath nature wisely plann'd-- + Whereof the proof shall be at hand. + I see the sun: its dazzling glow + Seems but a hand-breadth here below; + But should I see it in its home, + That azure, star-besprinkled dome, + Of all the universe the eye, + Its blaze would fill one half the sky. + The powers of trigonometry + Have set my mind from blunder free. + The ignorant believe it flat; + I make it round, instead of that. + I fasten, fix, on nothing ground it, + And send the earth to travel round it. + In short, I contradict my eyes, + And sift the truth from constant lies. + The mind, not hasty at conclusion, + Resists the onset of illusion, + Forbids the sense to get the better, + And ne'er believes it to the letter. + Between my eyes, perhaps too ready, + And ears as much or more too slow, + A judge with balance true and steady, + I come, at last, some things to know. + Thus when the water crooks a stick,[29] + My reason straightens it as quick-- + Kind Mistress Reason--foe of error, + And best of shields from needless terror! + The creed is common with our race, + The moon contains a woman's face. + True? No. Whence, then, the notion, + From mountain top to ocean? + The roughness of that satellite, + Its hills and dales, of every grade, + Effect a change of light and shade + Deceptive to our feeble sight; + So that, besides the human face, + All sorts of creatures one might trace. + Indeed, a living beast, I ween, + Has lately been by England seen. + All duly placed the telescope, + And keen observers full of hope, + An animal entirely new, + In that fair planet, came to view. + Abroad and fast the wonder flew;-- + Some change had taken place on high, + Presaging earthly changes nigh; + Perhaps, indeed, it might betoken + The wars[30] that had already broken + Out wildly o'er the Continent. + The king to see the wonder went: + (As patron of the sciences, + No right to go more plain than his.) + To him, in turn, distinct and clear, + This lunar monster did appear.-- + A mouse, between the lenses caged, + Had caused these wars, so fiercely waged! + No doubt the happy English folks + Laugh'd at it as the best of jokes. + How soon will Mars afford the chance + For like amusements here in France! + He makes us reap broad fields of glory. + Our foes may fear the battle-ground; + For us, it is no sooner found, + Than Louis, with fresh laurels crown'd, + Bears higher up our country's story. + The daughters, too, of Memory,-- + The Pleasures and the Graces,-- + Still show their cheering faces: + We wish for peace, but do not sigh. + The English Charles the secret knows + To make the most of his repose. + And more than this, he'll know the way, + By valour, working sword in hand, + To bring his sea-encircled land + To share the fight it only sees to-day. + Yet, could he but this quarrel quell, + What incense-clouds would grateful swell! + What deed more worthy of his fame! + Augustus, Julius[31]--pray, which Caesar's name + Shines now on story's page with purest flame? + O people happy in your sturdy hearts! + Say, when shall Peace pack up these bloody darts, + And send us all, like you, to softer arts? + +[26] This fable is founded on a fact which occurred in the experience of + the astronomer Sir Paul Neal, a member of the Royal Society of + London.--Translator. Sir Paul Neal, whose _lapsus_ suggested + this fable, thought he had discovered an animal in the moon. + Unluckily, however, after having made his "discovery" known, it was + found that the ground of it was simply the accidental presence of a + mouse in the object-glass of his telescope. Samuel Butler, the + author of "Hudibras," has also made fun of this otherwise rather + tragical episode in the early history of the Royal Society of + London, _vide_ his "Elephant in the Moon." +[27] _One philosopher._--Democritus, the so-called "laughing (or + scoffing) philosopher." He lived B.C. about 400 years. Fable XXVI., + Book VIII., is devoted to him and how he was treated by his + contemporaries. +[28] _Another._--Epicurus, founder of the Epicurean philosophy. He + lived B. C. about 300 years. +[29] _Water crooks a stick_.--An allusion to the bent appearance + which a stick has in water, consequent upon the refraction of light. +[30] _The wars_.--This fable appears to have been composed about the + beginning of the year 1677. The European powers then found + themselves exhausted by wars, and desirous of peace. England, the + only neutral, became, of course, the arbiter of the negotiations + which ensued at Nimeguen. All the belligerent parties invoked her + mediation. Charles II., however, felt himself exceedingly + embarrassed by his secret connections with Louis XIV., which made + him desire to prescribe conditions favourable to that monarch; + while, on the other hand, he feared the people of England, if, + treacherous to her interests, he should fail to favour the nations + allied and combined against France.--Translator. _Vide_ Hume: + who also says that the English king "had actually in secret sold his + neutrality to France, and he received remittances of 1,000,000 + livres a year, which was afterwards increased to 2,000,000 livres; a + considerable sum in the embarrassed state of his revenue." Hume's + _Hist. England_, Bell's edit., 1854, vol. vi., p. 242. +[31] _Augustus, Julius._--Augustus Caesar was eminent for his pacific + policy, as Julius Caesar was eminent for his warlike policy. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VIII. + + +I.--DEATH AND THE DYING.[1] + + Death never taketh by surprise + The well-prepared, to wit, the wise-- + They knowing of themselves the time + To meditate the final change of clime. + That time, alas! embraces all + Which into hours and minutes we divide; + There is no part, however small, + That from this tribute one can hide. + The very moment, oft, which bids + The heirs of empire see the light + Is that which shuts their fringed lids + In everlasting night. + Defend yourself by rank and wealth, + Plead beauty, virtue, youth, and health,-- + Unblushing Death will ravish all; + The world itself shall pass beneath his pall. + No truth is better known; but, truth to say, + No truth is oftener thrown away. + + A man, well in his second century, + Complain'd that Death had call'd him suddenly; + Had left no time his plans to fill, + To balance books, or make his will. + 'O Death,' said he, 'd' ye call it fair, + Without a warning to prepare, + To take a man on lifted leg? + O, wait a little while, I beg. + My wife cannot be left alone; + I must set out my nephew's son, + And let me build my house a wing, + Before you strike, O cruel king!' + 'Old man,' said Death, 'one thing is sure,-- + My visit here's not premature. + Hast thou not lived a century! + Darest thou engage to find for me? + In Paris' walls two older men + Has France, among her millions ten? + Thou say'st I should have sent thee word + Thy lamp to trim, thy loins to gird, + And then my coming had been meet-- + Thy will engross'd, + Thy house complete! + Did not thy feelings notify? + Did not they tell thee thou must die? + Thy taste and hearing are no more; + Thy sight itself is gone before; + For thee the sun superfluous shines, + And all the wealth of Indian mines; + Thy mates I've shown thee dead or dying. + What's this, indeed, but notifying? + Come on, old man, without reply; + For to the great and common weal + It doth but little signify + Whether thy will shall ever feel + The impress of thy hand and seal.' + + And Death had reason,--ghastly sage! + For surely man, at such an age, + Should part from life as from a feast, + Returning decent thanks, at least, + To Him who spread the various cheer, + And unrepining take his bier; + For shun it long no creature can. + Repinest thou, grey-headed man? + See younger mortals rushing by + To meet their death without a sigh-- + Death full of triumph and of fame, + But in its terrors still the same.-- + But, ah! my words are thrown away! + Those most like Death most dread his sway. + +[1] Abstemius. + + + + +II.--THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER. + + A cobbler sang from morn till night; + 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, + His trills and quavers told the ear + Of more contentment and delight, + Enjoy'd by that laborious wight + Than e'er enjoy'd the sages seven, + Or any mortals short of heaven. + His neighbour, on the other hand, + With gold in plenty at command, + But little sang, and slumber'd less-- + A financier of great success. + If e'er he dozed, at break of day, + The cobbler's song drove sleep away; + And much he wish'd that Heaven had made + Sleep a commodity of trade, + In market sold, like food and drink, + So much an hour, so much a wink. + At last, our songster did he call + To meet him in his princely hall. + Said he, 'Now, honest Gregory, + What may your yearly earnings be?' + 'My yearly earnings! faith, good sir, + I never go, at once, so far,' + The cheerful cobbler said, + And queerly scratch'd his head,-- + 'I never reckon in that way, + But cobble on from day to day, + Content with daily bread.' + 'Indeed! Well, Gregory, pray, + What may your earnings be per day?' + 'Why, sometimes more and sometimes less. + The worst of all, I must confess, + (And but for which our gains would be + A pretty sight, indeed, to see,) + Is that the days are made so many + In which we cannot earn a penny-- + The sorest ill the poor man feels: + They tread upon each other's heels, + Those idle days of holy saints! + And though the year is shingled o'er, + The parson keeps a-finding more!'[2] + With smiles provoked by these complaints, + Replied the lordly financier, + 'I'll give you better cause to sing. + These hundred pounds I hand you here + Will make you happy as a king. + Go, spend them with a frugal heed; + They'll long supply your every need.' + The cobbler thought the silver more + Than he had ever dream'd before, + The mines for ages could produce, + Or world, with all its people, use. + He took it home, and there did hide-- + And with it laid his joy aside. + No more of song, no more of sleep, + But cares, suspicions in their stead, + And false alarms, by fancy fed. + His eyes and ears their vigils keep, + And not a cat can tread the floor + But seems a thief slipp'd through the door. + At last, poor man! + Up to the financier he ran,-- + Then in his morning nap profound: + 'O, give me back my songs,' cried he, + 'And sleep, that used so sweet to be, + And take the money, every pound!' + +[2] _The parson keeps a-finding more!_--Under the old regime of + France the parish priest of each church had usually every Sunday, at + sermon time, to announce more than one religious fast or feast for + the coming week, which the poor at least were expected to observe. + + + + +III.--THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX.[3] + + A lion, old, and impotent with gout, + Would have some cure for age found out. + Impossibilities, on all occasions, + With kings, are rank abominations. + This king, from every species,-- + For each abounds in every sort,-- + Call'd to his aid the leeches. + They came in throngs to court, + From doctors of the highest fee + To nostrum-quacks without degree,-- + Advised, prescribed, talk'd learnedly; + But with the rest + Came not Sir Cunning Fox, M.D. + Sir Wolf the royal couch attended, + And his suspicions there express'd. + Forthwith his majesty, offended, + Resolved Sir Cunning Fox should come, + And sent to smoke him from his home. + He came, was duly usher'd in, + And, knowing where Sir Wolf had been, + Said, 'Sire, your royal ear + Has been abused, I fear, + By rumours false and insincere; + To wit, that I've been self-exempt + From coming here, through sheer contempt. + But, sire, I've been on pilgrimage, + By vow expressly made, + Your royal health to aid, + And, on my way, met doctors sage, + In skill the wonder of the age, + Whom carefully I did consult + About that great debility + Term'd in the books senility, + Of which you fear, with reason, the result. + You lack, they say, the vital heat, + By age extreme become effete. + Drawn from a living wolf, the hide + Should warm and smoking be applied. + The secret's good, beyond a doubt, + For nature's weak, and wearing out. + Sir Wolf, here, won't refuse to give + His hide to cure you, as I live.' + The king was pleased with this advice. + Flay'd, jointed, served up in a trice, + Sir Wolf first wrapp'd the monarch up, + Then furnish'd him whereon to sup. + + Beware, ye courtiers, lest ye gain, + By slander's arts, less power than pain; + For in the world where ye are living, + A pardon no one thinks of giving. + +[3] Aesop; also Bidpaii, and Lokman. + + + + +IV.--THE POWER OF FABLES. + +To M. De Barillon.[4] + + Can diplomatic dignity + To simple fables condescend? + Can I your famed benignity + Invoke, my muse an ear to lend? + If once she dares a high intent, + Will you esteem her impudent? + Your cares are weightier, indeed, + Than listening to the sage debates + Of rabbit or of weasel states: + So, as it pleases, burn or read; + But save us from the woful harms + Of Europe roused in hostile arms. + That from a thousand other places + Our enemies should show their faces, + May well be granted with a smile, + But not that England's Isle + Our friendly kings should set + Their fatal blades to whet. + Comes not the time for Louis to repose? + What Hercules, against these hydra foes, + Would not grow weary? Must new heads oppose + His ever-waxing energy of blows? + Now, if your gentle, soul-persuasive powers, + As sweet as mighty in this world of ours, + Can soften hearts, and lull this war to sleep,[5] + I'll pile your altars with a hundred sheep; + And this is not a small affair + For a Parnassian mountaineer. + Meantime, (if you have time to spare,) + Accept a little incense-cheer. + A homely, but an ardent prayer, + And tale in verse, I give you here. + I'll only say, the theme is fit for you. + With praise, which envy must confess + To worth like yours is justly due, + No man on earth needs propping less. + + In Athens, once, that city fickle, + An orator,[6] awake to feel + His country in a dangerous pickle, + Would sway the proud republic's heart, + Discoursing of the common weal, + As taught by his tyrannic art. + The people listen'd--not a word. + Meanwhile the orator recurr'd + To bolder tropes--enough to rouse + The dullest blocks that e'er did drowse; + He clothed in life the very dead, + And thunder'd all that could be said. + The wind received his breath, + As to the ear of death. + That beast of many heads and light,[7] + The crowd, accustom'd to the sound + Was all intent upon a sight-- + A brace of lads in mimic fight. + A new resource the speaker found. + 'Ceres,' in lower tone said he, + 'Went forth her harvest fields to see: + An eel, as such a fish might he, + And swallow, were her company. + A river check'd the travellers three. + Two cross'd it soon without ado; + The smooth eel swam, the swallow flew.--' + Outcried the crowd + With voices loud-- + 'And Ceres--what did she?' + 'Why, what she pleased; but first + Yourselves she justly cursed-- + A people puzzling aye your brains + With children's tales and children's play, + While Greece puts on her steel array, + To save her limbs from, tyrant chains! + Why ask you not what Philip[8] does?' + At this reproach the idle buzz + Fell to the silence of the grave, + Or moonstruck sea without a wave, + And every eye and ear awoke + To drink the words the patriot spoke. + This feather stick in Fable's cap. + We're all Athenians, mayhap; + And I, for one, confess the sin; + For, while I write this moral here, + If one should tell that tale so queer + Ycleped, I think, "The Ass's Skin,"[9] + I should not mind my work a pin. + The world is old, they say; I don't deny it;-- + But, infant still + In taste and will, + Whoe'er would teach, must gratify it.[10] + +[4] _M. De Barillon._--Ambassador to the Court of St. + James.--Translator. M. De Barillon was a great friend of La Fontaine, + and also of other literary lights of the time. +[5] _And lull this war to sleep._--The parliament of England was + determined that, in case Louis XIV. did not make peace with the + allies, Charles II. should join them to make war on + France.--Translator. +[6] _An orator._--Demades.--Translator. +[7] _That beast of many heads._--Horace, speaking of the Roman + people, said, "Bellua multorum est capitum."--_Epist. I., Book + I._, 76.--Translator. +[8] _Philip._--Philip of Macedon, then at war with the Greeks. +[9] "The Ass's Skin,"--an old French nursery tale so called. +[10] La Fontaine's views on "the power of fables" are further given in + Fable I., Book II.; Fable I., Book III.; Fable I., Book V.; Fable + I., Book VI; the Introduction to Book VII., and Fable I., Book IX. + + + + +V.--THE MAN AND THE FLEA.[11] + + Impertinent, we tease and weary Heaven + With prayers which would insult mere mortals even. + 'Twould seem that not a god in all the skies + From our affairs must ever turn his eyes, + And that the smallest of our race + Could hardly eat, or wash his face, + Without, like Greece and Troy for ten years' space, + Embroiling all Olympus in the case. + + A flea some blockhead's shoulder bit, + And then his clothes refused to quit. + 'O Hercules,' he cried, 'you ought to purge + This world of this far worse than hydra scourge! + O Jupiter, what are your bolts about, + They do not put these foes of mine to rout?' + + To crush a flea, this fellow's fingers under, + The gods must lend the fool their club and thunder! + +[11] Aesop. + + + + +VI.--THE WOMEN AND THE SECRET.[12] + + There's nothing like a secret weighs; + Too heavy 'tis for women tender; + And, for this matter, in my days, + I've seen some men of female gender. + + To prove his wife, a husband cried, + (The night he knew the truth would hide,) + 'O Heavens! What's this? O dear--I beg-- + I'm torn--O! O! I've laid an egg!' + 'An egg?' 'Why, yes, it's gospel-true. + Look here--see--feel it, fresh and new; + But, wife, don't mention it, lest men + Should laugh at me, and call me hen: + Indeed, don't say a word about it.' + On this, as other matters, green and young, + The wife, all wonder, did not doubt it, + And pledged herself by Heaven to hold her tongue. + Her oath, however, fled the light + As quick as did the shades of night. + Before Dan Phoebus waked to labour + The dame was off to see a neighbour. + 'My friend,' she said, half-whispering. + 'There's come to pass the strangest thing-- + If you should tell, 'twould turn me out of door:-- + My husband's laid an egg as big as four! + As you would taste of heaven's bliss, + Don't tell a living soul of this.' + 'I tell! why if you knew a thing about me, + You wouldn't for an instant doubt me; + Your confidence I'll ne'er abuse.' + The layer's wife went home relieved; + The other broil'd to tell the news; + You need not ask if she believed. + A dame more busy could not be; + In twenty places, ere her tea, + Instead of one egg, she said three! + Nor was the story finish'd here: + A gossip, still more keen than she, + Said four, and spoke it in the ear-- + A caution truly little worth, + Applied to all the ears on earth. + Of eggs, the number, thanks to Fame, + As on from mouth to mouth she sped, + Had grown a hundred, soothly said, + Ere Sol had quench'd his golden flame! + +[12] Abstemius. + + + + +VII.--THE DOG THAT CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER. + + Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, + Nor hands against the touch of gold. + Fidelity is sadly rare, + And has been from the days of old. + Well taught his appetite to check, + And do full many a handy trick, + A dog was trotting, light and quick, + His master's dinner on his neck. + A temperate, self-denying dog was he, + More than, with such a load, he liked to be. + But still he was, while many such as we + Would not have scrupled to make free. + Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, + Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach! + This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, + A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. + To get it was less easy than he thought: + The porter laid it down and fought. + Meantime some other dogs arrive: + Such dogs are always thick enough, + And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, + Upon the public thrive. + Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd,-- + The meat in danger manifest,-- + Is fain to share it with the rest; + And, looking very calm and wise, + 'No anger, gentlemen,' he cries: + 'My morsel will myself suffice; + The rest shall be your welcome prize.' + With this, the first his charge to violate, + He snaps a mouthful from his freight. + Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, + Till all is cleanly eaten up. + Not sparingly the party feasted, + And not a dog of all but tasted. + + In some such manner men abuse + Of towns and states the revenues. + The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor, + Come in for each a liberal share. + The strongest gives the rest example: + 'Tis sport to see with what a zest + They sweep and lick the public chest + Of all its funds, however ample. + If any commonweal's defender + Should dare to say a single word, + He's shown his scruples are absurd, + And finds it easy to surrender-- + Perhaps, to be the first offender. + + + + +VIII.--THE JOKER AND THE FISHES.[13] + + Some seek for jokers; I avoid. + A joke must be, to be enjoy'd, + Of wisdom's words, by wit employ'd. + God never meant for men of sense, + The wits that joke to give offence. + + Perchance of these I shall be able + To show you one preserved in fable. + A joker at a banker's table, + Most amply spread to satisfy + The height of epicurean wishes, + Had nothing near but little fishes. + So, taking several of the fry, + He whisper'd to them very nigh, + And seem'd to listen for reply. + The guests much wonder'd what it meant, + And stared upon him all intent. + The joker, then with sober face, + Politely thus explain'd the case: + 'A friend of mine, to India bound, + Has been, I fear, + Within a year, + By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. + I ask'd these strangers from the sea + To tell me where my friend might be. + But all replied they were too young + To know the least of such a matter-- + The older fish could tell me better. + Pray, may I hear some older tongue?' + What relish had the gentlefolks + For such a sample of his jokes, + Is more than I can now relate. + They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, + A monster of so old a date, + He must have known the names and fate + Of all the daring voyagers, + Who, following the moon and stars, + Have, by mischances, sunk their bones, + Within the realms of Davy Jones; + And who, for centuries, had seen, + Far down, within the fathomless, + Where whales themselves are sceptreless, + The ancients in their halls of green. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE RAT AND THE OYSTER[14] + + A country rat, of little brains, + Grown weary of inglorious rest, + Left home with all its straws and grains, + Resolved to know beyond his nest. + When peeping through the nearest fence, + 'How big the world is, how immense!' + He cried; 'there rise the Alps, and that + Is doubtless famous Ararat.' + His mountains were the works of moles, + Or dirt thrown up in digging holes! + Some days of travel brought him where + The tide had left the oysters bare. + Since here our traveller saw the sea, + He thought these shells the ships must be. + 'My father was, in truth,' said he, + 'A coward, and an ignoramus; + He dared not travel: as for me, + I've seen the ships and ocean famous; + Have cross'd the deserts without drinking, + And many dangerous streams unshrinking; + Such things I know from having seen and felt them.' + And, as he went, in tales he proudly dealt them, + Not being of those rats whose knowledge + Comes by their teeth on books in college. + Among the shut-up shell-fish, one + Was gaping widely at the sun; + It breathed, and drank the air's perfume, + Expanding, like a flower in bloom. + Both white and fat, its meat + Appear'd a dainty treat. + Our rat, when he this shell espied, + Thought for his stomach to provide. + 'If not mistaken in the matter,' + Said he, 'no meat was ever fatter, + Or in its flavour half so fine, + As that on which to-day I dine.' + Thus full of hope, the foolish chap + Thrust in his head to taste, + And felt the pinching of a trap-- + The oyster closed in haste. + + We're first instructed, by this case, + That those to whom the world is new + Are wonder-struck at every view; + And, in the second place, + That the marauder finds his match, + And he is caught who thinks to catch. + +[14] Abstemius; also Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER.[15] + + A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, + By fate confined within a lonely wood, + A new Bellerophon,[16] whose life, + Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife,-- + Became insane; for reason, as we term it, + Dwells never long with any hermit. + 'Tis good to mix in good society, + Obeying rules of due propriety; + And better yet to be alone; + But both are ills when overdone. + No animal had business where + All grimly dwelt our hermit bear; + Hence, bearish as he was, he grew + Heart-sick, and long'd for something new. + While he to sadness was addicted, + An aged man, not far from there, + Was by the same disease afflicted. + A garden was his favourite care,-- + Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, + And eke Pomona's--ripe and red + The presents that her fingers shed. + These two employments, true, are sweet + When made so by some friend discreet. + The gardens, gaily as they look, + Talk not, (except in this my book;) + So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, + Our man one morning left his home + Some company to seek, + That had the power to speak.-- + The bear, with thoughts the same, + Down from his mountain came; + And in a solitary place, + They met each other, face to face. + It would have made the boldest tremble; + What did our man? To play the Gascon + The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, + His fear contriving to dissemble. + The bear, unused to compliment, + Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, + 'Come home with me.' The man replied: + 'Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, + In yonder garden you may spy, + Where, if you'll honour me the while, + We'll break our fast in rural style. + I've fruits and milk,--unworthy fare, + It may be, for a wealthy bear; + But then I offer what I have.' + The bear accepts, with visage grave, + But not unpleased; and on their way, + They grow familiar, friendly, gay. + Arrived, you see them, side by side, + As if their friendship had been tried. + To a companion so absurd, + Blank solitude were well preferr'd, + Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, + The man was left quite at his leisure + To trim his garden at his pleasure. + Sir Bruin hunted--always brought + His friend whatever game he caught; + But chiefly aim'd at driving flies-- + Those hold and shameless parasites, + That vex us with their ceaseless bites-- + From off our gardener's face and eyes. + One day, while, stretch'd upon the ground + The old man lay, in sleep profound, + A fly that buzz'd around his nose,-- + And bit it sometimes, I suppose,-- + Put Bruin sadly to his trumps. + At last, determined, up he jumps; + 'I'll stop thy noisy buzzing now,' + Says he; 'I know precisely how.' + No sooner said than done. + He seized a paving-stone; + And by his modus operandi + Did both the fly and man die. + + A foolish friend may cause more woe + Than could, indeed, the wisest foe. + +[15] Bidpaii. +[16] _Bellerophon_.--The son of King Glaucus, who, after a wandering + life, died a prey to melancholy. + + + + +XI.--THE TWO FRIENDS.[17] + + Two friends, in Monomotapa, + Had all their interests combined. + Their friendship, faithful and refined, + Our country can't exceed, do what it may. + One night, when potent Sleep had laid + All still within our planet's shade, + One of the two gets up alarm'd, + Runs over to the other's palace, + And hastily the servants rallies. + His startled friend, quick arm'd, + With purse and sword his comrade meets, + And thus right kindly greets:-- + 'Thou seldom com'st at such an hour; + I take thee for a man of sounder mind + Than to abuse the time for sleep design'd. + Hast lost thy purse, by Fortune's power? + Here's mine. Hast suffer'd insult, or a blow, + I've here my sword--to avenge it let us go.' + 'No,' said his friend, 'no need I feel + Of either silver, gold, or steel; + I thank thee for thy friendly zeal. + In sleep I saw thee rather sad, + And thought the truth might be as bad. + Unable to endure the fear, + That cursed dream has brought me here.' + + Which think you, reader, loved the most! + If doubtful this, one truth may be proposed: + There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: + Not only is he prompt to lend-- + An angler delicate, he fishes + The very deepest of your wishes, + And spares your modesty the task + His friendly aid to ask. + A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, + When pointing at the object dear.[18] + +[17] Bidpaii. +[18] This fable is thought to have been inspired by the friendship of La + Fontaine for Fouquet, the minister whom Louis XIV., actuated mostly + by jealousy and envy, disgraced and imprisoned. See the Translator's + Preface. + + + + +XII.--THE HOG, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP.[19] + + A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, + All to the market rode together. + Their own amusement was not that + Which caused their journey thither. + Their coachman did not mean to 'set them down' + To see the shows and wonders of the town. + The porker cried, in piercing squeals, + As if with butchers at his heels. + The other beasts, of milder mood, + The cause by no means understood. + They saw no harm, and wonder'd why + At such a rate the hog should cry. + 'Hush there, old piggy!' said the man, + 'And keep as quiet as you can. + What wrong have you to squeal about, + And raise this dev'lish, deaf'ning shout? + These stiller persons at your side + Have manners much more dignified. + Pray, have you heard + A single word + Come from that gentleman in wool? + That proves him wise.' 'That proves him fool!' + The testy hog replied; + 'For did he know + To what we go, + He'd cry almost to split his throat; + So would her ladyship the goat. + They only think to lose with ease, + The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece: + They're, maybe, right; but as for me, + This ride is quite another matter. + Of service only on the platter, + My death is quite a certainty. + Adieu, my dear old piggery!' + The porker's logic proved at once + Himself a prophet and a dunce. + + Hope ever gives a present ease, + But fear beforehand kills: + The wisest he who least foresees + Inevitable ills. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THYRSIS AND AMARANTH. + +For Mademoiselle De Sillery.[20] + + I had the Phrygian quit, + Charm'd with Italian wit;[21] + But a divinity + Would on Parnassus see + A fable more from me. + Such challenge to refuse, + Without a good excuse, + Is not the way to use + Divinity or muse. + Especially to one + Of those who truly are, + By force of being fair, + Made queens of human will. + A thing should not be done + In all respects so ill. + For, be it known to all, + From Sillery the call + Has come for bird, and beast, + And insects, to the least; + To clothe their thoughts sublime + In this my simple rhyme. + In saying Sillery, + All's said that need to be. + Her claim to it so good, + Few fail to give her place + Above the human race: + How could they, if they would? + + Now come we to our end:-- + As she opines my tales + Are hard to comprehend-- + For even genius fails + Some things to understand-- + So let us take in hand + To make unnecessary, + For once, a commentary. + Come shepherds now,--and rhyme we afterwards + The talk between the wolves and fleecy herds. + + To Amaranth, the young and fair, + Said Thyrsis, once, with serious air,-- + 'O, if you knew, like me, a certain ill, + With which we men are harm'd, + As well as strangely charm'd, + No boon from Heaven your heart could like it fill! + Please let me name it in your ear,-- + A harmless word,--you need not fear. + Would I deceive you, you, for whom I bear + The tenderest sentiments that ever were?' + Then Amaranth replied, + 'What is its name? I beg you, do not hide' + ''Tis LOVE.'--' The word is beautiful! reveal + Its signs and symptoms, how it makes one feel.'-- + 'Its pains are ecstacies. So sweet its stings, + The nectar-cups and incense-pots of kings, + Compared, are flat, insipid things. + One strays all lonely in the wood-- + Leans silent o'er the placid flood, + And there with great complacency, + A certain face can see-- + 'Tis not one's own--but image fair, + Retreating, + Fleeting, + Meeting, + Greeting, + Following everywhere. + For all the rest of human kind, + One is as good, in short, as blind. + There is a shepherd wight, I ween, + Well known upon the village green, + Whose voice, whose name, whose turning of the hinge + Excites upon the cheek a richer tinge-- + The thought of whom is signal for a sigh-- + The breast that heaves it knows not why-- + Whose face the maiden fears to see, + Yet none so welcome still as he.'-- + Here Amaranth cut short his speech: + 'O! O! is that the evil which you preach? + To me I think it is no stranger; + I must have felt its power and danger.' + Here Thrysis thought his end was gain'd, + When further thus the maid explain'd: + ''Tis just the very sentiment + Which I have felt for Clidamant!' + The other, vex'd and mortified, + Now bit his lips, and nearly died. + + Like him are multitudes, who when + Their own advancement they have meant, + Have play'd the game of other men. + +[20] _Mdlle. de Sillery_.--Gabrielle-Francoise Brulart de Sillery, + niece of La Fontaine's friend and patron, the Duke de La + Rochefoucauld (author of the _Maximes_). She married Louis de + Tibergeau, Marquis de La Motte-au-Maine, and died in 1732. +[21] _Italian wit_.--Referring to his Tales, in which he had + borrowed many subjects from Boccaccio.--Translator. + + + + +XIV.--THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS.[22] + + The lion's consort died: + Crowds, gather'd at his side, + Must needs console the prince, + And thus their loyalty evince + By compliments of course; + Which make affliction worse. + Officially he cites + His realm to funeral rites, + At such a time and place; + His marshals of the mace + Would order the affair. + Judge you if all came there. + Meantime, the prince gave way + To sorrow night and day. + With cries of wild lament + His cave he well-nigh rent. + And from his courtiers far and near, + Sounds imitative you might hear. + + The court a country seems to me, + Whose people are, no matter what,-- + Sad, gay, indifferent, or not,-- + As suits the will of majesty; + Or, if unable so to be, + Their task it is to seem it all-- + Chameleons, monkeys, great and small. + 'Twould seem one spirit serves a thousand bodies-- + A paradise, indeed, for soulless noddies. + + But to our tale again: + The stag graced not the funeral train; + Of tears his cheeks bore not a stain; + For how could such a thing have been, + When death avenged him on the queen, + Who, not content with taking one, + Had choked to death his wife and son? + The tears, in truth, refused to run. + A flatterer, who watch'd the while, + Affirm'd that he had seen him smile. + If, as the wise man somewhere saith, + A king's is like a lion's wrath, + What should King Lion's be but death? + The stag, however, could not read; + Hence paid this proverb little heed, + And walk'd, intrepid, to'ards the throne; + When thus the king, in fearful tone: + 'Thou caitiff of the wood! + Presum'st to laugh at such a time? + Joins not thy voice the mournful chime? + We suffer not the blood + Of such a wretch profane + Our sacred claws to stain. + Wolves, let a sacrifice be made, + Avenge your mistress' awful shade.' + 'Sire,' did the stag reply, + The time for tears is quite gone by; + For in the flowers, not far from here, + Your worthy consort did appear; + Her form, in spite of my surprise, + I could not fail to recognise. + "My friend," said she, "beware + Lest funeral pomp about my bier, + When I shall go with gods to share, + Compel thine eye to drop a tear. + With kindred saints I rove + In the Elysian grove, + And taste a sort of bliss + Unknown in worlds like this. + Still, let the royal sorrow flow + Its proper season here below; + 'Tis not unpleasing, I confess."' + The king and court scarce hear him out. + Up goes the loud and welcome shout-- + 'A miracle! an apotheosis!' + And such at once the fashion is, + So far from dying in a ditch, + The stag retires with presents rich. + + Amuse the ear of royalty + With pleasant dreams, and flattery,-- + No matter what you may have done, + Nor yet how high its wrath may run,-- + The bait is swallow'd--object won. + +[22] Abstemius. + + + + +XV.--THE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT. + + One's own importance to enhance, + Inspirited by self-esteem, + Is quite a common thing in France; + A French disease it well might seem. + The strutting cavaliers of Spain + Are in another manner vain. + Their pride has more insanity; + More silliness our vanity. + Let's shadow forth our own disease-- + Well worth a hundred tales like these. + + A rat, of quite the smallest size, + Fix'd on an elephant his eyes, + And jeer'd the beast of high descent + Because his feet so slowly went. + Upon his back, three stories high, + There sat, beneath a canopy, + A certain sultan of renown, + His dog, and cat, and concubine, + His parrot, servant, and his wine, + All pilgrims to a distant town. + The rat profess'd to be amazed + That all the people stood and gazed + With wonder, as he pass'd the road, + Both at the creature and his load. + 'As if,' said he, 'to occupy + A little more of land or sky + Made one, in view of common sense, + Of greater worth and consequence! + What see ye, men, in this parade, + That food for wonder need be made? + The bulk which makes a child afraid? + In truth, I take myself to be, + In all aspects, as good as he.' + And further might have gone his vaunt; + But, darting down, the cat + Convinced him that a rat + Is smaller than an elephant. + + + + +XVI.--THE HOROSCOPE. + + On death we mortals often run, + Just by the roads we take to shun. + + A father's only heir, a son, + Was over-loved, and doted on + So greatly, that astrology + Was question'd what his fate might be. + The man of stars this caution gave-- + That, until twenty years of age, + No lion, even in a cage, + The boy should see,--his life to save. + The sire, to silence every fear + About a life so very dear, + Forbade that any one should let + His son beyond his threshold get. + Within his palace walls, the boy + Might all that heart could wish enjoy-- + Might with his mates walk, leap, and run, + And frolic in the wildest fun. + When come of age to love the chase, + That exercise was oft depicted + To him as one that brought disgrace, + To which but blackguards were addicted. + But neither warning nor derision + Could change his ardent disposition. + The youth, fierce, restless, full of blood, + Was prompted by the boiling flood + To love the dangers of the wood. + The more opposed, the stronger grew + His mad desire. The cause he knew, + For which he was so closely pent; + And as, where'er he went, + In that magnificent abode, + Both tapestry and canvas show'd + The feats he did so much admire, + A painted lion roused his ire. + 'Ah, monster!' cried he, in his rage, + 'Tis you that keep me in my cage.' + With that, he clinch'd his fist, + To strike the harmless beast-- + And did his hand impale + Upon a hidden nail! + And thus this cherish'd head, + For which the healing art + But vainly did its part, + Was hurried to the dead, + By caution blindly meant + To shun that sad event. + + The poet Aeschylus, 'tis said, + By much the same precaution bled. + A conjuror foretold + A house would crush him in its fall;-- + Forth sallied he, though old, + From town and roof-protected hall, + And took his lodgings, wet or dry, + Abroad, beneath the open sky. + An eagle, bearing through the air + A tortoise for her household fare, + Which first she wish'd to break, + The creature dropp'd, by sad mistake, + Plump on the poet's forehead bare, + As if it were a naked rock-- + To Aeschylus a fatal shock! + + From these examples, it appears, + This art, if true in any wise, + Makes men fulfil the very fears + Engender'd by its prophecies. + But from this charge I justify, + By branding it a total lie. + I don't believe that Nature's powers + Have tied her hands or pinion'd ours, + By marking on the heavenly vault + Our fate without mistake or fault. + That fate depends upon conjunctions + Of places, persons, times, and tracks, + And not upon the functions + Of more or less of quacks. + A king and clown beneath one planet's nod + Are born; one wields a sceptre, one a hod. + But it is Jupiter that wills it so! + And who is he?[23] A soulless clod. + How can he cause such different powers to flow + Upon the aforesaid mortals here below? + And how, indeed, to this far distant ball + Can he impart his energy at all?-- + How pierce the ether deeps profound, + The sun and globes that whirl around? + A mote might turn his potent ray + For ever from its earthward way. + Will find, it, then, in starry cope, + The makers of the horoscope? + The war[24] with which all Europe's now afflicted-- + Deserves it not by them to've been predicted? + Yet heard we not a whisper of it, + Before it came, from any prophet. + The suddenness of passion's gush, + Of wayward life the headlong rush,-- + Permit they that the feeble ray + Of twinkling planet, far away, + Should trace our winding, zigzag course? + And yet this planetary force, + As steady as it is unknown, + These fools would make our guide alone-- + Of all our varied life the source! + Such doubtful facts as I relate-- + The petted child's and poet's fate-- + Our argument may well admit. + The blindest man that lives in France, + The smallest mark would doubtless hit-- + Once in a thousand times--by chance. + +[23] _And who is he_?--By Jupiter, "the soulless clod," is of course + meant the planet, not the god. +[24] _The war_.--See note to Fable XVIII., Book VII. + + + + +XVII.--THE ASS AND THE DOG.[25] + + Dame Nature, our respected mother, + Ordains that we should aid each other. + + The ass this ordinance neglected, + Though not a creature ill-affected. + Along the road a dog and he + One master follow'd silently. + Their master slept: meanwhile, the ass + Applied his nippers to the grass, + Much pleased in such a place to stop, + Though there no thistle he could crop. + He would not be too delicate, + Nor spoil a dinner for a plate, + Which, but for that, his favourite dish, + Were all that any ass could wish. + + 'My dear companion,' Towser said,-- + ''Tis as a starving dog I ask it,-- + Pray lower down your loaded basket, + And let me get a piece of bread.' + No answer--not a word!--indeed, + The truth was, our Arcadian steed[26] + Fear'd lest, for every moment's flight, + His nimble teeth should lose a bite. + At last, 'I counsel you,' said he, 'to wait + Till master is himself awake, + Who then, unless I much mistake, + Will give his dog the usual bait.' + Meanwhile, there issued from the wood + A creature of the wolfish brood, + Himself by famine sorely pinch'd. + At sight of him the donkey flinch'd, + And begg'd the dog to give him aid. + The dog budged not, but answer made,-- + 'I counsel thee, my friend, to run, + Till master's nap is fairly done; + There can, indeed, be no mistake, + That he will very soon awake; + Till then, scud off with all your might; + And should he snap you in your flight, + This ugly wolf,--why, let him feel + The greeting of your well-shod heel. + I do not doubt, at all, but that + Will be enough to lay him flat.' + But ere he ceased it was too late; + The ass had met his cruel fate. + + Thus selfishness we reprobate. + +[25] Abstemius. +[26] _Arcadian steed_.--La Fontaine has "roussin d'Arcadie." The ass + was so derisively nicknamed. See also Fable XIX., Book VI. + + + + +XVIII.--THE PASHAW AND THE MERCHANT.[27] + + A trading Greek, for want of law, + Protection bought of a pashaw; + And like a nobleman he paid, + Much rather than a man of trade-- + Protection being, Turkish-wise, + A costly sort of merchandise. + So costly was it, in this case, + The Greek complain'd, with tongue and face. + Three other Turks, of lower rank, + Would guard his substance as their own, + And all draw less upon his bank, + Than did the great pashaw alone. + The Greek their offer gladly heard, + And closed the bargain with a word. + The said pashaw was made aware, + And counsel'd, with a prudent care + These rivals to anticipate, + By sending them to heaven's gate, + As messengers to Mahomet-- + Which measure should he much delay, + Himself might go the self-same way, + By poison offer'd secretly, + Sent on, before his time, to be + Protector to such arts and trades + As flourish in the world of shades. + On this advice, the Turk--no gander-- + Behaved himself like Alexander.[28] + Straight to the merchant's, firm and stable, + He went, and took a seat at table. + Such calm assurance there was seen, + Both in his words and in his mien, + That e'en that weasel-sighted Grecian + Could not suspect him of suspicion. + 'My friend,' said he, 'I know you've quit me, + And some think caution would befit me, + Lest to despatch me be your plan: + But, deeming you too good a man + To injure either friends or foes + With poison'd cups or secret blows, + I drown the thought, and say no more. + But, as regards the three or four + Who take my place, + I crave your grace + To listen to an apologue. + + 'A shepherd, with a single dog, + Was ask'd the reason why + He kept a dog, whose least supply + Amounted to a loaf of bread + For every day. The people said + He'd better give the animal + To guard the village seignior's hall; + For him, a shepherd, it would be + A thriftier economy + To keep small curs, say two or three, + That would not cost him half the food, + And yet for watching be as good. + The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell + If they would fight the wolf as well. + The silly shepherd, giving heed, + Cast off his dog of mastiff breed, + And took three dogs to watch his cattle, + Which ate far less, but fled in battle. + His flock such counsel lived to rue, + As doubtlessly, my friend, will you. + If wise, my aid again you'll seek--' + And so, persuaded, did the Greek. + + Not vain our tale, if it convinces + Small states that 'tis a wiser thing + To trust a single powerful king, + Than half a dozen petty princes. + +[27] Gilbert Cousin. +[28] _Alexander_.--Who took the medicine presented to him by his + physician Philip, the moment after he had received a letter + announcing that that very man designed to poison him.--Arrian, L. + II. Chap. XIV.--Translator. + + + + +XIX.--THE USE OF KNOWLEDGE.[29] + + Between two citizens + A controversy grew. + The one was poor, but much he knew: + The other, rich, with little sense, + Claim'd that, in point of excellence, + The merely wise should bow the knee + To all such money'd men as he. + The merely fools, he should have said; + For why should wealth hold up its head, + When merit from its side hath fled? + 'My friend,' quoth Bloated-purse, + To his reverse, + 'You think yourself considerable. + Pray, tell me, do you keep a table? + What comes of this incessant reading, + In point of lodging, clothing, feeding? + It gives one, true, the highest chamber, + One coat for June and for December, + His shadow for his sole attendant, + And hunger always in th' ascendant. + What profits he his country, too, + Who scarcely ever spends a sou-- + Will, haply, be a public charge? + Who profits more the state at large, + Than he whose luxuries dispense + Among the people wealth immense? + We set the streams of life a-flowing; + We set all sorts of trades a-going. + The spinner, weaver, sewer, vender, + And many a wearer, fair and tender, + All live and flourish on the spender-- + As do, indeed, the reverend rooks + Who waste their time in making books.' + These words, so full of impudence, + Received their proper recompense. + The man of letters held his peace, + Though much he might have said with ease. + A war avenged him soon and well; + In it their common city fell. + Both fled abroad; the ignorant, + By fortune thus brought down to want, + Was treated everywhere with scorn, + And roamed about, a wretch forlorn; + Whereas the scholar, everywhere, + Was nourish'd by the public care. + + Let fools the studious despise; + There's nothing lost by being wise. + +[29] Abstemius. + + + + +XX.--JUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS. + + Said Jupiter, one day, + As on a cloud he lay, + 'Observing all our crimes, + Come, let us change the times, + By leasing out anew + A world whose wicked crew + Have wearied out our grace, + And cursed us to our face. + Hie hellward, Mercury; + A Fury bring to me, + The direst of the three. + Race nursed too tenderly, + This day your doom shall be!' + E'en while he spoke their fate, + His wrath began to moderate. + + O kings, with whom His will + Hath lodged our good and ill, + Your wrath and storm between + One night should intervene! + + The god of rapid wing, + And lip unfaltering, + To sunless regions sped, + And met the sisters dread. + To grim Tisiphone, + And pale Megaera, he + Preferr'd, as murderess, + Alecto, pitiless. + This choice so roused the fiend, + By Pluto's beard she swore + The human race no more + Should be by handfuls glean'd, + But in one solid mass + Th' infernal gates should pass. + But Jove, displeased with both + The Fury and her oath, + Despatched her back to hell. + And then a bolt he hurl'd, + Down on a faithless world, + Which in a desert fell. + Aim'd by a father's arm, + It caused more fear than harm. + (All fathers strike aside.) + What did from this betide? + Our evil race grew bold, + Resumed their wicked tricks, + Increased them manifold, + Till, all Olympus through, + Indignant murmurs flew. + When, swearing by the Styx, + The sire that rules the air + Storms promised to prepare + More terrible and dark, + Which should not miss their mark. + 'A father's wrath it is!' + The other deities + All in one voice exclaim'd; + 'And, might the thing be named, + Some other god would make + Bolts better for our sake.' + This Vulcan undertook. + His rumbling forges shook, + And glow'd with fervent heat, + While Cyclops blew and beat. + Forth, from the plastic flame + Two sorts of bolts there came. + Of these, one misses not: + 'Tis by Olympus shot,-- + That is, the gods at large. + The other, bearing wide, + Hits mountain-top or side, + Or makes a cloud its targe. + And this it is alone + Which leaves the father's throne. + + + + +XXI.--THE FALCON AND THE CAPON.[30] + + You often hear a sweet seductive call: + If wise, you haste towards it not at all;-- + And, if you heed my apologue, + You act like John de Nivelle's dog.[31] + + A capon, citizen of Mans, + Was summon'd from a throng + To answer to the village squire, + Before tribunal call'd the fire. + The matter to disguise + The kitchen sheriff wise + Cried, 'Biddy--Biddy--Biddy!--' + But not a moment did he-- + This Norman and a half[32]-- + The smooth official trust. + 'Your bait,' said he, 'is dust, + And I'm too old for chaff.' + Meantime, a falcon, on his perch, + Observed the flight and search. + In man, by instinct or experience, + The capons have so little confidence, + That this was not without much trouble caught, + Though for a splendid supper sought. + To lie, the morrow night, + In brilliant candle-light, + Supinely on a dish + 'Midst viands, fowl, and fish, + With all the ease that heart could wish-- + This honour, from his master kind, + The fowl would gladly have declined. + Outcried the bird of chase, + As in the weeds he eyed the skulker's face, + 'Why, what a stupid, blockhead race!-- + Such witless, brainless fools + Might well defy the schools. + For me, I understand + To chase at word + The swiftest bird, + Aloft, o'er sea or land; + At slightest beck, + Returning quick + To perch upon my master's hand. + There, at his window he appears-- + He waits thee--hasten--hast no ears?' + 'Ah! that I have,' the fowl replied; + 'But what from master might betide? + Or cook, with cleaver at his side? + Return you may for such a call, + But let me fly their fatal hall; + And spare your mirth at my expense: + Whate'er I lack, 'tis not the sense + To know that all this sweet-toned breath + Is spent to lure me to my death. + If you had seen upon the spit + As many of the falcons roast + As I have of the capon host, + You would, not thus reproach my wit.' + +[30] In the Bidpaii Fables it is "The Falcon and the Cock." +[31] _John de Nivelle's dog_.--A dog which, according to the French + proverb, ran away when his master called him.--Translator. +[32] _This Norman and a half_.--Though the Normans are proverbial + for their shrewdness, the French have, nevertheless, a proverb that + they come to Paris to be hanged. Hence La Fontaine makes his capon, + who knew how to shun a similar fate, _le Normand et demi_--the + Norman and a half.--Translator. + + + + +XXII.--THE CAT AND THE RAT.[33] + + Four creatures, wont to prowl,-- + Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the cat, + Grave Evil-bode, the owl, + Thief Nibble-stitch, the rat, + And Madam Weasel, prim and fine,-- + Inhabited a rotten pine. + A man their home discover'd there, + And set, one night, a cunning snare. + The cat, a noted early-riser, + Went forth, at break of day, + To hunt her usual prey. + Not much the wiser + For morning's feeble ray, + The noose did suddenly surprise her. + Waked by her strangling cry, + Grey Nibble-stitch drew nigh: + As full of joy was he + As of despair was she, + For in the noose he saw + His foe of mortal paw. + 'Dear friend,' said Mrs. Grab-and-Snatch, + 'Do, pray, this cursed cord detach. + I've always known your skill, + And often your good-will; + Now help me from this worst of snares, + In which I fell at unawares. + 'Tis by a sacred right, + You, sole of all your race, + By special love and grace, + Have been my favourite-- + The darling of my eyes. + 'Twas order'd by celestial cares, + No doubt; I thank the blessed skies, + That, going out to say my prayers, + As cats devout each morning do, + This net has made me pray to you. + Come, fall to work upon the cord.' + Replied the rat, 'And what reward + Shall pay me, if I dare?' + 'Why,' said the cat, 'I swear + To be your firm ally: + Henceforth, eternally, + These powerful claws are yours, + Which safe your life insures. + I'll guard from quadruped and fowl; + I'll eat the weasel and the owl.' + 'Ah,' cried the rat, 'you fool! + I'm quite too wise to be your tool.' + He said, and sought his snug retreat, + Close at the rotten pine-tree's feet. + Where plump he did the weasel meet; + Whom shunning by a happy dodge, + He climb'd the hollow trunk to lodge; + And there the savage owl he saw. + Necessity became his law, + And down he went, the rope to gnaw. + Strand after strand in two he bit, + And freed, at last, the hypocrite. + That moment came the man in sight; + The new allies took hasty flight. + + A good while after that, + Our liberated cat + Espied her favourite rat, + Quite out of reach, and on his guard. + 'My friend,' said she, 'I take your shyness hard; + Your caution wrongs my gratitude; + Approach, and greet your staunch ally. + Do you suppose, dear rat, that I + Forget the solemn oath I mew'd?' + 'Do I forget,' the rat replied, + 'To what your nature is allied? + To thankfulness, or even pity, + Can cats be ever bound by treaty?' + + Alliance from necessity + Is safe just while it has to be. + +[33] Another rendering of "The Rat and the Cat" of the Bidpaii + collection. See Fable XVI., Book VII. + + + + +XXIII.--THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER.[34] + + With mighty rush and roar, + Adown a mountain steep + A torrent tumbled,--swelling o'er + Its rugged banks,--and bore + Vast ruin in its sweep. + The traveller were surely rash + To brave its whirling, foaming dash, + But one, by robbers sorely press'd, + Its terrors haply put to test. + They were but threats of foam and sound, + The loudest where the least profound. + With courage from his safe success, + His foes continuing to press, + He met a river in his course: + On stole its waters, calm and deep, + So silently they seem'd asleep, + All sweetly cradled, as I ween, + In sloping banks, and gravel clean,-- + They threaten'd neither man nor horse. + Both ventured; but the noble steed, + That saved from robbers by his speed, + From that deep water could not save; + Both went to drink the Stygian wave; + Both went to cross, (but not to swim,) + Where reigns a monarch stern and grim, + Far other streams than ours. + + Still men are men of dangerous powers; + Elsewhere, 'tis only ignorance that cowers. + +[34] Abstemius. + + + + +XXIV.--EDUCATION. + + Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended + From dogs by Fame the most commended, + Who falling, in their puppyhood, + To different masters anciently, + One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood; + From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. + At first, each had another name; + But, by their bringing up, it came, + While one improved upon his nature, + The other grew a sordid creature, + Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, + The name ungracious ever stuck. + To high exploits his brother grew, + Put many a stag at bay, and tore + Full many a trophy from the boar; + In short, him first, of all his crew, + The world as Caesar knew; + And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, + His noble blood should e'er degenerate. + Not so with his neglected brother; + He made whatever came a mother; + And, by the laws of population, + His race became a countless nation-- + The common turnspits throughout France-- + Where danger is, they don't advance-- + Precisely the antipodes + Of what we call the Caesars, these! + + Oft falls the son below his sire's estate: + Through want of care all things degenerate. + For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts. + What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts! + + + + +XXV.--THE TWO DOGS AND THE DEAD ASS.[35] + + The Virtues should be sisters, hand in hand, + Since banded brothers all the Vices stand: + When one of these our hearts attacks, + All come in file; there only lacks, + From out the cluster, here and there, + A mate of some antagonizing pair, + That can't agree the common roof to share. + But all the Virtues, as a sisterhood, + Have scarcely ever in one subject stood. + We find one brave, but passionate; + Another prudent, but ingrate. + Of beasts, the dog may claim to be + The pattern of fidelity; + But, for our teaching little wiser, + He's both a fool and gormandiser. + For proof, I cite two mastiffs, that espied + A dead ass floating on a water wide. + The distance growing more and more, + Because the wind the carcass bore,-- + 'My friend,' said one, 'your eyes are best; + Pray let them on the water rest: + What thing is that I seem to see? + An ox, or horse? what can it be?' + 'Hey!' cried his mate; 'what matter which, + Provided we could get a flitch? + It doubtless is our lawful prey: + The puzzle is to find some way + To get the prize; for wide the space + To swim, with wind against your face.[36] + Let's drink the flood; our thirsty throats + Will gain the end as well as boats. + The water swallow'd, by and bye + We'll have the carcass, high and dry-- + Enough to last a week, at least.' + Both drank as some do at a feast; + Their breath was quench'd before their thirst, + And presently the creatures burst! + + And such is man. Whatever he + May set his soul to do or be, + To him is possibility? + How many vows he makes! + How many steps he takes! + How does he strive, and pant, and strain, + Fortune's or Glory's prize to gain! + If round my farm off well I must, + Or fill my coffers with the dust, + Or master Hebrew, science, history,-- + I make my task to drink the sea. + One spirit's projects to fulfil, + Four bodies would require; and still + The work would stop half done; + The lives of four Methuselahs, + Placed end to end for use, alas! + Would not suffice the wants of one. + +[35] Aesop; also Lokman. +[36] _With the wind against your face_.--Did La Fontaine, to enhance + the folly of these dogs, make them bad judges of the course of the + wind, or did he forget what he had said a few lines + above?--Translator. + + + +XXVI.--DEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OF ABDERA. + + How do I hate the tide of vulgar thought! + Profane, unjust, with childish folly fraught; + It breaks and bends the rays of truth divine, + And by its own conceptions measures mine. + Famed Epicurus' master[37] tried + The power of this unstable tide. + His country said the sage was mad-- + The simpletons! But why? + No prophet ever honour had + Beneath his native sky. + Democritus, in truth, was wise; + The mass were mad, with faith in lies. + So far this error went, + That all Abdera sent + To old Hippocrates + To cure the sad disease. + 'Our townsman,' said the messengers, + Appropriately shedding tears, + 'Hath lost his wits! Democritus, + By study spoil'd, is lost to us. + Were he but fill'd with ignorance, + We should esteem him less a dunce. + He saith that worlds like this exist, + An absolutely endless list,-- + And peopled, even, it may be, + With countless hosts as wise as we! + But, not contented with such dreams, + His brain with viewless "atoms" teems, + Instinct with deathless life, it seems. + And, never stirring from the sod below, + He weighs and measures all the stars; + And, while he knows the universe, + Himself he doth not know. + Though now his lips he strictly bars, + He once delighted to converse. + Come, godlike mortal, try thy art divine + Where traits of worst insanity combine!' + Small faith the great physician lent, + But still, perhaps more readily, he went. + And mark what meetings strange + Chance causes in this world of change! + Hippocrates arrived in season, + Just as his patient (void of reason!) + Was searching whether reason's home, + In talking animals and dumb, + Be in the head, or in the heart, + Or in some other local part. + All calmly seated in the shade, + Where brooks their softest music made, + He traced, with study most insane, + The convolutions of a brain; + And at his feet lay many a scroll-- + The works of sages on the soul. + Indeed, so much absorb'd was he, + His friend, at first, he did not see. + A pair so admirably match'd, + Their compliments erelong despatch'd. + In time and talk, as well as dress, + The wise are frugal, I confess. + Dismissing trifles, they began + At once with eagerness to scan + The life, and soul, and laws of man; + Nor stopp'd till they had travell'd o'er all + The ground, from, physical to moral. + My time and space would fail + To give the full detail. + + But I have said enough to show + How little 'tis the people know. + How true, then, goes the saw abroad-- + Their voice is but the voice of God? + +[37] _Epicurus' master_.--Democritus and Epicurus lived about a + century apart. The latter was disciple to the former only because in + early life he adopted some of Democritus's philosophy. Later + Epicurus rejected more than he accepted of what his "master" taught. + + + + +XXVII.--THE WOLF AND THE HUNTER.[38] + + Thou lust of gain,--foul fiend, whose evil eyes + Regard as nought the blessings of the skies, + Must I for ever battle thee in vain? + How long demandest thou to gain + The meaning of my lessons plain? + Will constant getting never cloy? + Will man ne'er slacken to enjoy? + Haste, friend; thou hast not long to live: + Let me the precious word repeat, + And listen to it, I entreat; + A richer lesson none can give-- + The sovereign antidote for sorrow-- + ENJOY!--'I will.'--But when?--'To-morrow.--' + Ah! death may take you on the way, + Why not enjoy, I ask, to-day? + Lest envious fate your hopes ingulf, + As once it served the hunter and the wolf. + + The former, with his fatal bow, + A noble deer had laid full low: + A fawn approach'd, and quickly lay + Companion of the dead, + For side by side they bled. + Could one have wished a richer prey? + Such luck had been enough to sate + A hunter wise and moderate. + Meantime a boar, as big as e'er was taken, + Our archer tempted, proud, and fond of bacon. + Another candidate for Styx, + Struck by his arrow, foams and kicks. + But strangely do the shears of Fate + To cut his cable hesitate. + Alive, yet dying, there he lies, + A glorious and a dangerous prize. + And was not this enough? Not quite, + To fill a conqueror's appetite; + For, ere the boar was dead, he spied + A partridge by a furrow's side-- + A trifle to his other game. + Once more his bow he drew; + The desperate boar upon him came, + And in his dying vengeance slew: + The partridge thank'd him as she flew. + + Thus much is to the covetous address'd; + The miserly shall have the rest. + + A wolf, in passing, saw that woeful sight. + 'O Fortune,' cried the savage, with delight, + 'A fane to thee I'll build outright! + 'Four carcasses! how rich! But spare-- + 'I'll make them last--such luck is rare,' + (The miser's everlasting plea.) + 'They'll last a month for--let me see-- + One, two, three, four--the weeks are four + If I can count--and some days more. + Well, two days hence + And I'll commence. + Meantime, the string upon this bow + I'll stint myself to eat; + For by its mutton-smell I know + 'Tis made of entrails sweet.' + His entrails rued the fatal weapon, + Which, while he heedlessly did step on, + The arrow pierced his bowels deep, + And laid him lifeless on the heap. + + Hark, stingy souls! insatiate leeches! + Our text this solemn duty teaches,-- + Enjoy the present; do not wait + To share the wolf's or hunter's fate. + +[38] Bidpaii; and the _Hitopadesa_. See extract from Sir William + Jones's translation of the latter in Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK IX. + + +I.--THE FAITHLESS DEPOSITARY.[1] + + Thanks to Memory's daughters nine, + Animals have graced my line: + Higher heroes in my story + Might have won me less of glory. + Wolves, in language of the sky, + Talk with dogs throughout my verse; + Beasts with others shrewdly vie, + Representing characters; + Fools in furs not second-hand, + Sages, hoof'd or feather'd, stand: + Fewer truly are the latter, + More the former--ay, and fatter. + Flourish also in my scene + Tyrants, villains, mountebanks, + Beasts incapable of thanks, + Beasts of rash and reckless pranks, + Beasts of sly and flattering mien; + Troops of liars, too, I ween. + As to men, of every age, + All are liars, saith the sage. + Had he writ but of the low, + One could hardly think it so; + But that human mortals, all, + Lie like serpents, great and small, + Had another certified it, + I, for one, should have denied it. + He who lies in Aesop's way, + Or like Homer, minstrel gray, + Is no liar, sooth to say. + Charms that bind us like a dream, + Offspring of their happy art, + Cloak'd in fiction, more than seem + Truth to offer to the heart. + Both have left us works which I + Think unworthy e'er to die. + Liar call not him who squares + All his ends and aims with theirs; + But from sacred truth to vary, + Like the false depositary, + Is to be, by every rule + Both a liar and a fool. + The story goes: + + A man of trade, + In Persia, with his neighbour made + Deposit, as he left the state, + Of iron, say a hundredweight. + Return'd, said he, 'My iron, neighbour.' + 'Your iron! you have lost your labour; + I grieve to say it,--'pon my soul, + A rat has eaten up the whole. + My men were sharply scolded at, + But yet a hole, in spite of that, + Was left, as one is wont to be + In every barn or granary, + By which crept in that cursed rat.' + Admiring much the novel thief, + The man affected full belief. + Ere long, his faithless neighbour's child + He stole away,--a heavy lad,-- + And then to supper bade the dad, + Who thus plead off in accents sad:-- + 'It was but yesterday I had + A boy as fine as ever smiled, + An only son, as dear as life, + The darling of myself and wife. + Alas! we have him now no more, + And every joy with us is o'er.' + Replied the merchant, 'Yesternight, + By evening's faint and dusky ray, + I saw a monstrous owl alight, + And bear your darling son away + To yonder tott'ring ruin gray.' + 'Can I believe you, when you say + An owl bore off: so large a prey? + How could it be?' the father cried; + 'The thing is surely quite absurd; + My son with ease had kill'd the bird.' + 'The how of it,' the man replied, + 'Is not my province to decide; + I know I saw your son arise, + Borne through, the air before my eyes. + Why should it seem a strange affair, + Moreover, in a country where + A single rat contrives to eat + A hundred pounds of iron meat, + That owls should be of strength to lift ye + A booby boy that weighs but fifty?' + The other plainly saw the trick, + Restored the iron very quick. + And got, with shame as well as joy, + Possession of his kidnapp'd boy. + + The like occurr'd two travellers between. + One was of those + Who wear a microscope, I ween, + Each side the nose. + Would you believe their tales romantic, + Our Europe, in its monsters, beats + The lands that feel the tropic heats, + Surcharged with all that is gigantic. + This person, feeling free + To use the trope hyperbole, + Had seen a cabbage with his eyes + Exceeding any house in size. + 'And I have seen,' the other cries, + Resolved to leave his fellow in the lurch, + 'A pot that would have held a church. + Why, friend, don't give that doubting look,-- + The pot was made your cabbages to cook.' + This pot-discov'rer was a wit; + The iron-monger, too, was wise. + To such absurd and ultra lies + Their answers were exactly fit. + 'Twere doing honour overmuch, + To reason or dispute with such. + To overbid them is the shortest path, + And less provocative of wrath. + +[1] Bidpaii. + + + + +II.--THE TWO DOVES.[2] + + Two doves once cherish'd for each other + The love that brother hath for brother. + But one, of scenes domestic tiring, + To see the foreign world aspiring, + Was fool enough to undertake + A journey long, o'er land and lake. + 'What plan is this?' the other cried; + 'Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side? + This absence is the worst of ills; + Thy heart may bear, but me it kills. + Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care, + Of which all travellers tell, + Your courage somewhat quell. + Still, if the season later were-- + O wait the zephyrs!--hasten not-- + Just now the raven, on his oak, + In hoarser tones than usual spoke. + My heart forebodes the saddest lot,-- + The falcons, nets--Alas, it rains! + My brother, are thy wants supplied-- + Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide, + And all that unto health pertains?' + These words occasion'd some demur + In our imprudent traveller. + But restless curiosity + Prevail'd at last; and so said he,-- + 'The matter is not worth a sigh; + Three days, at most, will satisfy, + And then, returning, I shall tell + You all the wonders that befell,-- + With scenes enchanting and sublime + Shall sweeten all our coming time. + Who seeth nought, hath nought to say. + My travel's course, from day to day, + Will be the source of great delight. + A store of tales I shall relate,-- + Say there I lodged at such a date, + And saw there such and such a sight. + You'll think it all occurr'd to you.--' + On this, both, weeping, bade adieu. + Away the lonely wanderer flew.-- + A thunder-cloud began to lower; + He sought, as shelter from the shower, + The only tree that graced the plain, + Whose leaves ill turn'd the pelting rain. + The sky once more serene above, + On flew our drench'd and dripping dove, + And dried his plumage as he could. + Next, on the borders of a wood, + He spied some scatter'd grains of wheat, + Which one, he thought, might safely eat; + For there another dove he saw.-- + He felt the snare around him draw! + This wheat was but a treacherous bait + To lure poor pigeons to their fate. + The snare had been so long in use, + With beak and wings he struggled loose: + Some feathers perish'd while it stuck; + But, what was worst in point of luck, + A hawk, the cruellest of foes, + Perceived him clearly as he rose, + Off dragging, like a runaway, + A piece of string. The bird of prey + Had bound him, in a moment more, + Much faster than he was before, + But from the clouds an eagle came, + And made the hawk himself his game. + By war of robbers profiting, + The dove for safety plied the wing, + And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, + Believed his dangers ended all. + A roguish boy had there a sling, + (Age pitiless! + We must confess,) + And, by a most unlucky fling, + Half kill'd our hapless dove; + Who now, no more in love + With foreign travelling, + And lame in leg and wing, + Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, + Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, + In truly sad and piteous plight. + The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, + What pleasure might their pains repay. + Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?-- + Pray, let it not be far from home. + To each the other ought to be + A world of beauty ever new; + In each the other ought to see + The whole of what is good and true. + + Myself have loved; nor would I then, + For all the wealth of crowned men, + Or arch celestial, paved with gold, + The presence of those woods have sold, + And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which + Were by the joyful steps made rich, + And smiled beneath the charming eyes + Of her who made my heart a prize-- + To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, + And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath. + Ah, when will time such moments bring again? + To me are sweet and charming objects vain-- + My soul forsaking to its restless mood? + O, did my wither'd heart but dare + To kindle for the bright and good, + Should not I find the charm still there? + Is love, to me, with things that were? + +[2] Bidpaii. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's + very best. See Translator's Preface. + + + + +III.--THE MONKEY AND THE LEOPARD.[3] + + A monkey and a leopard were + The rivals at a country fair. + Each advertised his own attractions. + Said one, 'Good sirs, the highest place + My merit knows; for, of his grace, + The king hath seen me face to face; + And, judging by his looks and actions, + I gave the best of satisfactions. + When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, + My skin will make his royal muff. + So richly is it streak'd and spotted, + So delicately waved and dotted, + Its various beauty cannot fail to please.' + And, thus invited, everybody sees; + But soon they see, and soon depart. + The monkey's show-bill to the mart + His merits thus sets forth the while, + All in his own peculiar style:-- + 'Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come; + In magic arts I am at home. + The whole variety in which + My neighbour boasts himself so rich, + Is to his simple skin confined, + While mine is living in the mind. + Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille, + The son-in-law to Tickleville, + Pope's monkey, and of great renown, + Is now just freshly come to town, + Arrived in three bateaux, express, + Your worships to address; + For he can speak, you understand; + Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand; + Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks; + In short, can do a thousand tricks; + And all for blancos six--[4] + Not, messieurs, for a sou. + And, if you think the price won't do, + When you have seen, then he'll restore + Each man his money at the door.' + + The ape was not to reason blind; + For who in wealth of dress can find + Such charms as dwell in wealth of mind? + One meets our ever-new desires, + The other in a moment tires. + + Alas! how many lords there are, + Of mighty sway and lofty mien, + Who, like this leopard at the fair, + Show all their talents on the skin! + +[3] Aesop; also Avianus. +[4] _Blancos six._--The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which + were equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present + English money. + + + + +IV.--THE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN. + + God's works are good. This truth to prove + Around the world I need not move; + I do it by the nearest pumpkin. + 'This fruit so large, on vine so small,' + Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin-- + 'What could He mean who made us all? + He's left this pumpkin out of place. + If I had order'd in the case, + Upon that oak it should have hung-- + A noble fruit as ever swung + To grace a tree so firm and strong. + Indeed, it was a great mistake, + As this discovery teaches, + That I myself did not partake + His counsels whom my curate preaches. + All things had then in order come; + This acorn, for example, + Not bigger than my thumb, + Had not disgraced a tree so ample. + The more I think, the more I wonder + To see outraged proportion's laws, + And that without the slightest cause; + God surely made an awkward blunder.' + With such reflections proudly fraught, + Our sage grew tired of mighty thought, + And threw himself on Nature's lap, + Beneath an oak,--to take his nap. + Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, + An acorn fell: he waked, and in + The matted beard that graced his chin, + He found the cause of such a bruise + As made him different language use. + 'O! O!' he cried; 'I bleed! I bleed! + And this is what has done the deed! + But, truly, what had been my fate, + Had this had half a pumpkin's weight! + I see that God had reasons good, + And all his works well understood.' + Thus home he went in humbler mood.[5] + +[5] This fable was much admired by Madame de Sevigne. See Translator's + Preface. + + + + +V.--THE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN. + + A boy who savour'd of his school,-- + A double rogue and double fool,-- + By youth and by the privilege + Which pedants have, by ancient right, + To alter reason, and abridge,-- + A neighbour robb'd, with fingers light, + Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had, + Of fruits that make the autumn glad, + The very best--and none but he. + Each season brought, from plant and tree, + To him its tribute; for, in spring, + His was the brightest blossoming. + One day, he saw our hopeful lad + Perch'd on the finest tree he had, + Not only stuffing down the fruit, + But spoiling, like a Vandal brute, + The buds that play advance-courier + Of plenty in the coming year. + The branches, too, he rudely tore, + And carried things to such a pass, + The owner sent his servant o'er + To tell the master of his class. + The latter came, and came attended + By all the urchins of his school, + And thus one plunderer's mischief mended + By pouring in an orchard-full. + It seems the pedant was intent + On making public punishment, + To teach his boys the force of law, + And strike their roguish hearts with awe. + The use of which he first must show + From Virgil and from Cicero, + And many other ancients noted, + From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted. + So long, indeed, his lecture lasted, + While not a single urchin fasted, + That, ere its close, their thievish crimes + Were multiplied a hundred times. + + I hate all eloquence and reason + Expended plainly out of season. + Of all the beasts that earth have cursed + While they have fed on't, + The school-boy strikes me as the worst-- + Except the pedant. + The better of these neighbours two + For me, I'm sure, would never do. + + + + +VI.--THE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER. + + A block of marble was so fine, + To buy it did a sculptor hasten. + 'What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine-- + A god, a table, or a basin?' + + 'A god,' said he, 'the thing shall be; + I'll arm it, too, with thunder. + Let people quake, and bow the knee + With reverential wonder.' + + So well the cunning artist wrought + All things within a mortal's reach, + That soon the marble wanted nought + Of being Jupiter, but speech. + + Indeed, the man whose skill did make + Had scarcely laid his chisel down, + Before himself began to quake, + And fear his manufacture's frown. + + And even this excess of faith + The poet once scarce fell behind, + The hatred fearing, and the wrath, + Of gods the product of his mind. + + This trait we see in infancy + Between the baby and its doll, + Of wax or china, it may be-- + A pocket stuff'd, or folded shawl. + + Imagination rules the heart: + And here we find the fountain head + From whence the pagan errors start, + That o'er the teeming nations spread. + + With violent and flaming zeal, + Each takes his own chimera's part; + Pygmalion[6] doth a passion feel + For Venus chisel'd by his art. + + All men, as far as in them lies, + Create realities of dreams. + To truth our nature proves but ice; + To falsehood, fire it seems. + +[6] _Pygmalion_.--The poet here takes an erroneous view of the story + of Pygmalion. That sculptor fell in love with his statue of the + nymph Galatea, to which Venus gave life at his request. See Ovid, + _Metam_. Book X. + + + + +VII.--THE MOUSE METAMORPHOSED INTO A MAID.[7] + + A mouse once from an owl's beak fell; + I'd not have pick'd it up, I wis; + A Brahmin did it: very well; + Each country has its prejudice. + The mouse, indeed, was sadly bruised. + Although, as neighbours, we are used + To be more kind to many others, + The Brahmins treat the mice as brothers. + The notion haunts their heads, that when + The soul goes forth from dying men, + It enters worm, or bird, or beast, + As Providence or Fate is pleased; + And on this mystery rests their law, + Which from Pythagoras they're said to draw. + And hence the Brahmin kindly pray'd + To one who knew the wizard's trade, + To give the creature, wounded sore, + The form in which it lodged before. + Forthwith the mouse became a maid, + Of years about fifteen; + A lovelier was never seen. + She would have waked, I ween, + In Priam's son, a fiercer flame + Than did the beauteous Grecian dame. + Surprised at such a novelty, + The Brahmin to the damsel cried, + 'Your choice is free; + For every he + Will seek you for his bride.' + Said she, 'Am I to have a voice? + The strongest, then, shall be my choice.' + 'O sun!' the Brahmin cried, 'this maid is thine, + And thou shalt be a son-in-law of mine.' + 'No,' said the sun, 'this murky cloud, it seems, + In strength exceeds me, since he hides my beams; + And him I counsel you to take.' + Again the reverend Brahmin spake-- + 'O cloud, on-flying with thy stores of water, + Pray wast thou born to wed my daughter?' + 'Ah, no, alas! for, you may see, + The wind is far too strong for me. + My claims with Boreas' to compare, + I must confess, I do not dare.' + 'O wind,' then cried the Brahmin, vex'd, + And wondering what would hinder next,-- + 'Approach, and, with thy sweetest air, + Embrace--possess--the fairest fair.' + The wind, enraptured, thither blew;-- + A mountain stopp'd him as he flew, + To him now pass'd the tennis-ball, + And from him to a creature small. + Said he, 'I'd wed the maid, but that + I've had a quarrel with the rat. + A fool were I to take the bride + From one so sure to pierce my side.' + The rat! It thrill'd the damsel's ear; + To name at once seem'd sweet and dear. + The rat! 'Twas one of Cupid's blows; + The like full many a maiden knows; + But all of this beneath the rose. + + One smacketh ever of the place + Where first he show'd the world his face. + Thus far the fable's clear as light; + But, if we take a nearer sight, + There lurks within its drapery + Somewhat of graceless sophistry; + For who, that worships e'en the glorious sun, + Would not prefer to wed some cooler one? + And doth a flea's exceed a giant's might, + Because the former can the latter bite? + And, by the rule of strength, the rat + Had sent his bride to wed the cat; + From cat to dog, and onward still + To wolf or tiger, if you will: + Indeed, the fabulist might run + A circle backward to the sun.-- + But to the change the tale supposes,-- + In learned phrase, metempsychosis. + The very thing the wizard did + Its falsity exposes-- + If that indeed were ever hid. + According to the Brahmin's plan, + The proud aspiring soul of man, + And souls that dwell in humbler forms + Of rats and mice, and even worms, + All issue from a common source, + And, hence, they are the same of course.-- + Unequal but by accident + Of organ and of tenement, + They use one pair of legs, or two, + Or e'en with none contrive to do, + As tyrant matter binds them to. + Why, then, could not so fine a frame + Constrain its heavenly guest + To wed the solar flame? + A rat her love possess'd. + + In all respects, compared and weigh'd, + The souls of men and souls of mice + Quite different are made,-- + Unlike in sort as well as size. + Each fits and fills its destined part + As Heaven doth well provide; + Nor witch, nor fiend, nor magic art, + Can set their laws aside. + +[7] Bidpaii. + + + + +VIII.--THE FOOL WHO SOLD WISDOM.[8] + + Of fools come never in the reach: + No rule can I more wisely teach. + Nor can there be a better one + Than this,--distemper'd heads to shun. + We often see them, high and low. + They tickle e'en the royal ear, + As, privileged and free from fear, + They hurl about them joke and jeer, + At pompous lord or silly beau. + + A fool, in town, did wisdom cry; + The people, eager, flock'd to buy. + Each for his money got, + Paid promptly on the spot, + Besides a box upon the head, + Two fathoms' length of thread. + The most were vex'd--but quite in vain + The public only mock'd their pain. + The wiser they who nothing said, + But pocketed the box and thread. + To search the meaning of the thing + Would only laughs and hisses bring. + Hath reason ever guaranteed + The wit of fools in speech or deed? + 'Tis said of brainless heads in France, + The cause of what they do is chance. + One dupe, however, needs must know + What meant the thread, and what the blow; + So ask'd a sage, to make it sure. + 'They're both hieroglyphics pure,' + The sage replied without delay; + 'All people well advised will stay + From fools this fibre's length away, + Or get--I hold it sure as fate-- + The other symbol on the pate. + So far from cheating you of gold, + The fool this wisdom fairly sold.' + +[8] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE OYSTER AND THE LITIGANTS. + + Two pilgrims on the sand espied + An oyster thrown up by the tide. + In hope, both swallow'd ocean's fruit; + But ere the fact there came dispute. + While one stoop'd down to take the prey, + The other push'd him quite away. + Said he, ''Twere rather meet + To settle which shall eat. + Why, he who first the oyster saw + Should be its eater, by the law; + The other should but see him do it.' + Replied his mate, 'If thus you view it, + Thank God the lucky eye is mine.' + 'But I've an eye not worse than thine,' + The other cried, 'and will be cursed, + If, too, I didn't see it first.' + 'You saw it, did you? Grant it true, + I saw it then, and felt it too.' + Amidst this sweet affair, + Arrived a person very big, + Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig.[9] + They made him judge,--to set the matter square. + Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, + Took up the oyster and the case: + In opening both, the first he swallow'd, + And, in due time, his judgment follow'd. + 'Attend: the court awards you each a shell + Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well.' + Foot up the cost of suits at law, + The leavings reckon and awards, + The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw, + And leave the parties--purse and cards.[10] + +[9] _Sir Nincom Periwig_.--The name in La Fontaine is Perrin Dandin, + which is also that of the peasant judge in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 41), and the judge in Racine's "Plaideurs" (produced in 1668). + Moliere's "George Dandin" (produced 1664), may also have helped La + Fontaine to the name. The last-mentioned character is a farmer, but, + like the others, he is a species of incapable; and the word dandin in + the old French dictionaries is given as signifying inaptness or + incapacity. +[10] The oyster and lawyer story is also treated in Fable XXI., Book I. + (_The Hornet and the Bees_). + + + + +X.--THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG.[11] + + A troutling, some time since,[12] + Endeavour'd vainly to convince + A hungry fisherman + Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. + That controversy made it plain + That letting go a good secure, + In hope of future gain, + Is but imprudence pure. + The fisherman had reason good-- + The troutling did the best he could-- + Both argued for their lives. + Now, if my present purpose thrives, + I'll prop my former proposition + By building on a small addition. + A certain wolf, in point of wit + The prudent fisher's opposite, + A dog once finding far astray, + Prepared to take him as his prey. + The dog his leanness pled; + 'Your lordship, sure,' he said, + 'Cannot be very eager + To eat a dog so meagre. + To wait a little do not grudge: + The wedding of my master's only daughter + Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter; + And then, as you yourself can judge, + I cannot help becoming fatter.' + The wolf, believing, waived the matter, + And so, some days therefrom, + Return'd with sole design to see + If fat enough his dog might be. + The rogue was now at home: + He saw the hunter through the fence. + 'My friend,' said he, 'please wait; + I'll be with you a moment hence, + And fetch our porter of the gate.' + This porter was a dog immense, + That left to wolves no future tense. + Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,-- + It might not be so safely tamper'd. + 'My service to your porter dog,' + Was his reply, as off he scamper'd. + His legs proved better than his head, + And saved him life to learn his trade. + +[11] Aesop. +[12] _A troutling_.--See Book V., Fable III.--Translator. + + + + +XI.--NOTHING TOO MUCH.[13] + + Look where we will throughout creation, + We look in vain for moderation. + There is a certain golden mean, + Which Nature's sovereign Lord, I ween, + Design'd the path of all forever. + Doth one pursue it? Never. + E'en things which by their nature bless, + Are turn'd to curses by excess. + + The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, + Green waving in the genial air, + By overgrowth exhausts the soil; + By superfluity of leaves + Defrauds the treasure of its sheaves, + And mocks the busy farmer's toil. + Not less redundant is the tree, + So sweet a thing is luxury. + The grain within due bounds to keep, + Their Maker licenses the sheep + The leaves excessive to retrench. + In troops they spread across the plain, + And, nibbling down the hapless grain, + Contrive to spoil it, root and branch. + So, then, with, licence from on high, + The wolves are sent on sheep to prey; + The whole the greedy gluttons slay; + Or, if they don't, they try. + + Next, men are sent on wolves to take + The vengeance now condign: + In turn the same abuse they make + Of this behest divine. + + Of animals, the human kind + Are to excess the most inclined. + On low and high we make the charge,-- + Indeed, upon the race at large. + There liveth not the soul select + That sinneth not in this respect. + Of "Nought too much," the fact is, + All preach the truth,--none practise. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +XII.--THE WAX-CANDLE.[14] + + From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. + On Mount Hymettus,[15] first, they say, + They made their home, and stored away + The treasures which the zephyrs fan. + When men had robb'd these daughters of the sky, + And left their palaces of nectar dry,-- + Or, as in French the thing's explain'd + When hives were of their honey drain'd-- + The spoilers 'gan the wax to handle, + And fashion'd from it many a candle. + Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire, + Remain uninjured by the teeth of time, + Was kindled into great desire + For immortality sublime. + And so this new Empedocles[16] + Upon the blazing pile one sees, + Self-doom'd by purest folly + To fate so melancholy. + The candle lack'd philosophy: + All things are made diverse to be. + To wander from our destined tracks-- + There cannot be a vainer wish; + But this Empedocles of wax, + That melted in the chafing-dish, + Was truly not a greater fool + Than he of whom we read at school. + +[14] Abstemius. +[15] _Mount Hymettus_.--This was the mountain whence the Greeks got + fine honey. +[16] _Empedocles_.--A Pythagorean philosopher who asserted that he + had been, before becoming a man, a girl, a boy, a shrub, a bird, and + a fish. He is further credited with the vanity of wishing to be + thought a god, and hence of throwing himself into Mount Etna to + conceal his death. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, + says one story, he convicted himself of suicide by inadvertently + leaving his slippers at the foot of the volcano. + + + + +XIII.--JUPITER AND THE PASSENGER.[17] + + How danger would the gods enrich, + If we the vows remember'd which + It drives us to! But, danger past, + Kind Providence is paid the last. + No earthly debt is treated so. + 'Now, Jove,' the wretch exclaims, 'will wait; + He sends no sheriff to one's gate, + Like creditors below;' + But, let me ask the dolt, + What means the thunderbolt? + + A passenger, endanger'd by the sea, + Had vow'd a hundred oxen good + To him who quell'd old Terra's brood. + He had not one: as well might he + Have vow'd a hundred elephants. + Arrived on shore, his good intents + Were dwindled to the smoke which rose + An offering merely for the nose, + From half a dozen beefless bones. + 'Great Jove,' said he, 'behold my vow! + The fumes of beef thou breathest now + Are all thy godship ever owns: + From debt I therefore stand acquitted.' + With seeming smile, the god submitted, + But not long after caught him well, + By sending him a dream, to tell + Of treasure hid. Off ran the liar, + As if to quench a house on fire, + And on a band of robbers fell. + As but a crown he had that day, + He promised them of sterling gold + A hundred talents truly told; + Directing where conceal'd they lay, + In such a village on their way. + The rogues so much the tale suspected, + Said one, 'If we should suffer you to, + You'd cheaply get us all detected; + Go, then, and bear your gold to Pluto.' + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE CAT AND THE FOX. + + The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage, + Together went on pilgrimage. + Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they, + By sleight of face and sleight of paw, + Regardless both of right and law, + Contrived expenses to repay, + By eating many a fowl and cheese, + And other tricks as bad as these. + Disputing served them to beguile + The road of many a weary mile. + Disputing! but for this resort, + The world would go to sleep, in short. + Our pilgrims, as a thing of course, + Disputed till their throats were hoarse. + Then, dropping to a lower tone, + They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, + Till Renard whisper'd to the cat, + 'You think yourself a knowing one: + How many cunning tricks have you? + For I've a hundred, old and new, + All ready in my haversack.' + The cat replied, 'I do not lack, + Though with but one provided; + And, truth to honour, for that matter, + I hold it than a thousand better.' + In fresh dispute they sided; + And loudly were they at it, when + Approach'd a mob of dogs and men. + 'Now,' said the cat, 'your tricks ransack, + And put your cunning brains to rack, + One life to save; I'll show you mine-- + A trick, you see, for saving nine.' + With that, she climb'd a lofty pine. + The fox his hundred ruses tried, + And yet no safety found. + A hundred times he falsified + The nose of every hound.-- + Was here, and there, and everywhere, + Above, and under ground; + But yet to stop he did not dare, + Pent in a hole, it was no joke, + To meet the terriers or the smoke. + So, leaping into upper air, + He met two dogs, that choked him there. + + Expedients may be too many, + Consuming time to choose and try. + On one, but that as good as any, + 'Tis best in danger to rely. + + + + +XV.--THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE THIEF.[18] + + A man that loved,--and loved his wife,-- + Still led an almost joyless life. + No tender look, nor gracious word, + Nor smile, that, coming from a bride, + Its object would have deified, + E'er told her doting lord + The love with which he burn'd + Was in its kind return'd. + Still unrepining at his lot, + This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot, + Thank'd God for all the good he got. + But why? If love doth fail to season + Whatever pleasures Hymen gives, + I'm sure I cannot see the reason + Why one for him the happier lives. + However, since his wife + Had ne'er caress'd him in her life, + He made complaint of it one night. + The entrance of a thief + Cut short his tale of grief, + And gave the lady such a fright, + She shrunk from dreaded harms + Within her husband's arms. + 'Good thief,' cried he, + 'This joy so sweet, I owe to thee: + Now take, as thy reward, + Of all that owns me lord, + Whatever suits thee save my spouse; + Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house.' + As thieves are not remarkably + O'erstock'd with modesty, + This fellow made quite free. + + From this account it doth appear, + The passions all are ruled by fear. + Aversion may be conquer'd by it, + And even love may not defy it. + But still some cases there have been + Where love hath ruled the roast, I ween. + That lover, witness, highly bred, + Who burnt his house above his head, + And all to clasp a certain dame, + And bear her harmless through the flame. + This transport through the fire, + I own, I much admire; + And for a Spanish soul, reputed coolish, + I think it grander even than 'twas foolish.[19] + +[18] Bidpaii. +[19] _'Twas foolish._--La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of + the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of + Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to + a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he + might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.--Translator. + + + + +XVI.--THE TREASURE AND THE TWO MEN.[20] + + A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, + Who lodged the devil in his purse,-- + That is to say, lodged nothing there,-- + By self-suspension in the air + Concluded his accounts to square, + Since, should he not, he understood, + From various tokens, famine would-- + A death for which no mortal wight + Had ever any appetite. + A ruin, crown'd with ivy green, + Was of his tragedy the scene. + His hangman's noose he duly tied, + And then to drive a nail he tried;-- + But by his blows the wall gave way, + Now tremulous and old, + Disclosing to the light of day + A sum of hidden gold. + He clutch'd it up, and left Despair + To struggle with his halter there. + Nor did the much delighted man + E'en stop to count it as he ran. + But, while he went, the owner came, + Who loved it with a secret flame, + Too much indeed for kissing,-- + And found his money--missing! + 'O Heavens!' he cried, 'shall I + Such riches lose, and still not die? + Shall I not hang?--as I, in fact, + Might justly do if cord I lack'd; + But now, without expense, I can; + This cord here only lacks a man.' + The saving was no saving clause; + It suffer'd not his heart to falter, + Until it reach'd his final pause + As full possessor of the halter,-- + 'Tis thus the miser often grieves: + Whoe'er the benefit receives + Of what he owns, he never must-- + Mere treasurer for thieves, + Or relatives, or dust. + But what say we about the trade + In this affair by Fortune made? + Why, what but that it was just like her! + In freaks like this delighteth she. + The shorter any turn may be, + The better it is sure to strike her. + It fills that goddess full of glee + A self-suspended man to see; + And that it does especially, + When made so unexpectedly. + +[20] The story of this fable has been traced to the Epigrams of Ausonius + who was born at Bordeaux, and lived in the fourth century. + + + + +XVII.--THE MONKEY AND THE CAT. + + Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, + (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) + Co-servants and lodgers: + More mischievous codgers + Ne'er mess'd from a platter, since platters were flat. + Was anything wrong in the house or about it, + The neighbours were blameless,--no mortal could doubt it; + For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice, + More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice. + One day the two plunderers sat by the fire, + Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. + To steal them would be a right noble affair. + A double inducement our heroes drew there-- + 'Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill, + And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. + Said Bertrand to Ratto, 'My brother, to-day + Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, + And take me these chestnuts, I pray. + Which were I but otherwise fitted + (As I am ingeniously witted) + For pulling things out of the flame, + Would stand but a pitiful game.' + ''Tis done,' replied Ratto, all prompt to obey; + And thrust out his paw in a delicate way. + First giving the ashes a scratch, + He open'd the coveted batch; + Then lightly and quickly impinging, + He drew out, in spite of the singeing, + One after another, the chestnuts at last,-- + While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast. + A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun. + Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one.-- + + No more are the princes, by flattery paid + For furnishing help in a different trade, + And burning their fingers to bring + More power to some mightier king.[21] + +[21] For Madame de Sevigne's opinion of this fable, see the Translator's + Preface. + + + + +XVIII.--THE KITE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.[22] + + A noted thief, the kite, + Had set a neighbourhood in fright, + And raised the clamorous noise + Of all the village boys, + When, by misfortune,--sad to say,-- + A nightingale fell in his way. + Spring's herald begg'd him not to eat + A bird for music--not for meat. + 'O spare!' cried she, 'and I'll relate + 'The crime of Tereus and his fate.'-- + 'What's Tereus?[23] Is it food for kites?'-- + 'No, but a king, of female rights + The villain spoiler, whom I taught + A lesson with repentance fraught; + And, should it please you not to kill, + My song about his fall + Your very heart shall thrill, + As it, indeed, does all.'-- + Replied the kite, a 'pretty thing! + When I am faint and famishing, + To let you go, and hear you sing?'-- + 'Ah, but I entertain the king!'-- + 'Well, when he takes you, let him hear + Your tale, full wonderful, no doubt; + For me, a kite, I'll go without.' + An empty stomach hath no ear.[24] + +[22] Abstemius; also Aesop. +[23] _What's Tereus?_--See story of Tereus Philomela and Progne, in + Ovid's _Metamorphoses_.--See also Fable XV., Book III., and Note. +[24] _An empty stomach hath no ear_.--Cato the Censor said in one of + his speeches to the Romans, who were clamouring for a distribution + of corn, "It is a difficult task, my fellow-citizens, to speak to + the belly, because it hath no ears."--Plutarch's _Life of Cato_ + (Langhorne's ed.). "The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled + with fair words."--Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 63. + + + + +XIX.--THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK.[25] + + 'What! shall I lose them one by one, + This stupid coward throng? + And never shall the wolf have done? + They were at least a thousand strong, + But still they've let poor Robin[26] fall a prey! + Ah, woe's the day! + Poor Robin Wether lying dead! + He follow'd for a bit of bread + His master through the crowded city, + And would have follow'd, had he led, + Around the world. O! what a pity! + My pipe, and even step, he knew; + To meet me when I came, he flew; + In hedge-row shade we napp'd together; + Alas, alas, my Robin Wether!' + When Willy thus had duly said + His eulogy upon the dead + And unto everlasting fame + Consign'd poor Robin Wether's name, + He then harangued the flock at large, + From proud old chieftain rams + Down to the smallest lambs, + Addressing them this weighty charge,-- + Against the wolf, as one, to stand + In firm, united, fearless band, + By which they might expel him from their land. + Upon their faith, they would not flinch, + They promised him, a single inch. + 'We'll choke,' said they, 'the murderous glutton + Who robbed of us of our Robin Mutton.' + Their lives they pledged against the beast, + And Willy gave them all a feast. + But evil Fate, than Phoebus faster, + Ere night had brought a new disaster: + A wolf there came. By nature's law, + The total flock were prompt to run; + And yet 'twas not the wolf they saw, + But shadow of him from the setting sun. + + Harangue a craven soldiery, + What heroes they will seem to be! + But let them snuff the smoke of battle, + Or even hear the ramrods rattle, + Adieu to all their spunk and mettle: + Your own example will be vain, + And exhortations, to retain + The timid cattle. + +[25] Abstemius. +[26] _Robin_.--Rabelais, in his _Pantagruel_, Book IV., ch. 4, has Robin, + Robin Mouton, &c. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK X. + + +I.--THE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG. + +Address to Madame de la Sabliere.[1] + + You, Iris, 'twere an easy task to praise; + But you refuse the incense of my lays. + In this you are unlike all other mortals, + Who welcome all the praise that seeks their portals; + Not one who is not soothed by sound so sweet. + For me to blame this humour were not meet, + By gods and mortals shared in common, + And, in the main, by lovely woman. + That drink, so vaunted by the rhyming trade, + That cheers the god who deals the thunder-blow, + And oft intoxicates the gods below,-- + The nectar, Iris, is of praises made. + You taste it not. But, in its place, + Wit, science, even trifles grace + Your bill of fare; but, for that matter, + The world will not believe the latter. + Well, leave the world in unbelief. + Still science, trifles, fancies light as air, + I hold, should mingle in a bill of fare, + Each giving each its due relief; + As, where the gifts of Flora fall, + On different flowers we see + Alight the busy bee, + Educing sweet from all. + Thus much premised, don't think it strange, + Or aught beyond my muse's range, + If e'en my fables should infold, + Among their nameless trumpery, + The traits of a philosophy + Far-famed as subtle, charming, bold. + They call it new--the men of wit; + Perhaps you have not heard of it?[2] + My verse will tell you what it means:-- + They say that beasts are mere machines;[3] + That, in their doings, everything + Is done by virtue of a spring-- + No sense, no soul, nor notion; + But matter merely,--set in motion, + Just such the watch in kind, + Which joggeth on, to purpose blind. + Now ope, and read within its breast-- + The place of soul is by its wheels possess'd. + One moves a second, that a third, + Till finally its sound is heard. + And now the beast, our sages say, + Is moved precisely in this way + An object strikes it in a certain place: + The spot thus struck, without a moment's space, + To neighbouring parts the news conveys; + Thus sense receives it through the chain, + And takes impression.--How? Explain.-- + Not I. They say, by sheer necessity, + From will as well as passion free, + The animal is found the thrall + Of movements which the vulgar call + Joy, sadness, pleasure, pain, and love-- + The cause extrinsic and above.-- + Believe it not. What's this I hold? + Why, sooth, it is a watch of gold-- + Its life, the mere unbending of a spring. + And we?--are quite a different thing. + Hear how Descartes--Descartes, whom all applaud, + Whom pagans would have made a god, + Who holds, in fact, the middle place + 'Twixt ours and the celestial race, + About as does the plodding ass + From man to oyster as you pass-- + Hear how this author states the case + 'Of all the tribes to being brought + By our Creator out of nought, + I only have the gift of thought.' + Now, Iris, you will recollect + We were by older science taught + That when brutes think, they don't reflect. + Descartes proceeds beyond the wall, + And says they do not think at all. + This you believe with ease; + And so could I, if I should please. + Still, in the forest, when, from morn + Till midday, sounds of dog and horn + Have terrified the stag forlorn; + When he has doubled forth and back, + And labour'd to confound his track, + Till tired and spent with efforts vain-- + An ancient stag, of antlers ten;-- + He puts a younger in his place, + All fresh, to weary out the chase.-- + What thoughts for one that merely grazes! + The doublings, turnings, windings, mazes, + The substituting fresher bait, + Were worthy of a man of state-- + And worthy of a better fate! + To yield to rascal dogs his breath + Is all the honour of his death. + And when the partridge danger spies, + Before her brood have strength to rise, + She wisely counterfeits a wound, + And drags her wing upon the ground-- + Thus, from her home, beside some ancient log, + Safe drawing off the sportsman and his dog; + And while the latter seems to seize her, + The victim of an easy chase-- + 'Your teeth are not for such as me, sir,' + She cries, + And flies, + And laughs the former in his face. + + Far north, 'tis said, the people live + In customs nearly primitive; + That is to say, are bound + In ignorance profound:-- + I mean the people human; + For animals are dwelling there + With skill such buildings to prepare + As could on earth but few men. + Firm laid across the torrent's course, + Their work withstands its mighty force, + So damming it from shore to shore, + That, gliding smoothly o'er, + In even sheets the waters pour. + Their work, as it proceeds, they grade and bevel, + Or bring it up to plumb or level; + First lay their logs, and then with mortar smear, + As if directed by an engineer. + Each labours for the public good; + The old command, the youthful brood + Cut down, and shape, and place the wood. + Compared with theirs, e'en Plato's model state + Were but the work of some apprentice pate. + Such are the beaver folks, who know + Enough to house themselves from snow, + And bridge, though they can swim, the pools. + Meanwhile, our kinsmen are such fools, + In spite of their example, + They dwell in huts less ample, + And cross the streams by swimming, + However cold and brimming! + Now that the skilful beaver, + Is but a body void of spirit, + From whomsoever I might hear it, + I would believe it never. + + But I go farther in the case. + Pray listen while I tell + A thing which lately fell + From one of truly royal race.[4] + A prince beloved by Victory, + The North's defender here shall be + My voucher and your guaranty; + Whose mighty name alone + Commands the sultan's throne, + The king whom Poland calls her own. + This king declares (kings cannot lie, we hear) + That, on his own frontier, + Some animals there are; + Engaged in ceaseless war; + From age to age the quarrel runs, + Transmitted down from sires to sons; + (These beasts, he says, are to the fox akin;) + And with more skill no war hath been, + By highest military powers, + Conducted in this age of ours + Guards, piquets, scouts, and spies, + And ambuscade that hidden lies, + The foe to capture by surprise, + And many a shrewd appliance + Of that pernicious, cursed science, + The daughter of the Stygian wave, + And mother harsh of heroes brave, + Those military creatures have. + To chant their feats a bard we lack, + Till Death shall give us Homer back. + And should he such a wonder do, + And, while his hand was in, release + Old Epicurus' rival[5] too, + What would the latter say to facts like these? + Why, as I've said, that nature does such things + In animals by means of springs; + That Memory is but corporeal; + And that to do the things array'd + So proudly in my story all, + The animal but needs her aid. + At each return, the object, so to speak, + Proceeds directly to her store + With keenest optics--there to seek + The image it had traced before, + Which found, proceeds forthwith to act + Just as at first it did, in fact, + By neither thought nor reason back'd. + Not so with us, beasts perpendicular; + With us kind Heaven is more particular. + Self-ruled by independent mind, + We're not the sport of objects blind, + Nor e'en to instinct are consign'd. + I walk; I talk; I feel the sway + Of power within + This nice machine, + It cannot but obey. + This power, although with matter link'd, + Is comprehended as distinct. + Indeed 'tis comprehended better + In truth and essence than is matter. + O'er all our arts it is supreme. + But how doth matter understand + Or hear its sovereign lord's command? + Here doth a difficulty seem: + I see the tool obey the hand; + But then the hand who guideth it; + Who guides the stars in order fit? + Perhaps each mighty world, + Since from its Maker hurl'd, + Some angel may have kept in custody. + However that may be, + A spirit dwells in such as we; + It moves our limbs; we feel its mandates now; + We see and know it rules, but know not how: + Nor shall we know, indeed, + Till in the breast of God we read. + And, speaking in all verity, + Descartes is just as ignorant as we; + In things beyond a mortal's ken, + He knows no more than other men. + But, Iris, I confess to this, + That in the beasts of which I speak + Such spirit it were vain to seek, + For man its only temple is. + Yet beasts must have a place + Beneath our godlike race, + Which no mere plant requires + Although the plant respires. + + But what shall one reply + To what I next shall certify? + Two rats in foraging fell on an egg,-- + For gentry such as they + A genteel dinner every way; + They needed not to find an ox's leg. + Brimful of joy and appetite, + They were about to sack the box, + So tight without the aid of locks, + When suddenly there came in sight + A personage--Sir Pullet Fox. + Sure, luck was never more untoward + Since Fortune was a vixen froward! + How should they save their egg--and bacon? + Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd; + Should it in forward paws be taken, + Or roll'd along, or dragg'd? + Each method seem'd impossible, + And each was then of danger full. + Necessity, ingenious mother, + Brought forth what help'd them from their pother. + As still there was a chance to save their prey,-- + The spunger yet some hundred yards away,-- + One seized the egg, and turn'd upon his back, + And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, + That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, + The other dragg'd him by the tail. + Who dares the inference to blink, + That beasts possess wherewith to think? + + Were I commission'd to bestow + This power on creatures here below, + The beasts should have as much of mind + As infants of the human kind. + Think not the latter, from their birth? + It hence appears there are on earth + That have the simple power of thought + Where reason hath no knowledge wrought. + And on this wise an equal power I'd yield + To all the various tenants of the field; + Not reason such as in ourselves we find, + But something more than any mainspring blind. + A speck of matter I would subtilise + Almost beyond the reach of mental eyes;-- + An atom's essence, one might say, + An extract of a solar ray, + More quick and pungent than a flame of fire,-- + For if of flame the wood is sire, + Cannot the flame, itself refined, + Give some idea of the mind? + Comes not the purest gold + From lead, as we are told? + To feel and choose, my work should soar-- + Unthinking judgment--nothing more. + No monkey of my manufacture + Should argue from his sense or fact, sure: + But my allotment to mankind + Should be of very different mind. + We men should share in double measure, + Or rather have a twofold treasure; + The one the soul, the same in all + That bear the name of animal-- + The sages, dunces, great and small, + That tenant this our teeming ball;-- + The other still another soul, + Which should to mortals here belong + In common with the angel throng; + Which, made an independent whole, + Could pierce the skies to worlds of light, + Within a point have room to be,-- + Its life a morn, sans noon or night. + Exempt from all destructive change-- + A thing as real as it is strange. + In infancy this child of day + Should glimmer but a feeble ray. + Its earthly organs stronger grown, + The beam of reason, brightly thrown, + Should pierce the darkness, thick and gross, + That holds the other prison'd close. + +[1] _Madame de la Sabliere_.--See the following note; also the + Translator's Preface. +[2] _Perhaps you have not heard of it_?--Madame de la Sabliere was + one of the most learned women of the age in which she lived, and knew + more of the philosophy of Descartes, in which she was a believer, + than our poet; but she dreaded the reputation of a "blue-stocking," + and for this reason La Fontaine addresses her as if she might be + ignorant of the Cartesian theory.--Translator. Moliere's _Femme + Savante_, the object of which was to ridicule the French + "blue-stockings," had been only recently produced upon the stage + (1672), hence Madame de la Sabliere's fears, and La Fontaine's + delicate forbearance. +[3] _Beasts are mere machines_.--At this time the discussion as to + the mind in animals was very rife in the salons of Paris. Madame de + Sevigne often alludes to it in her Letters. La Fontaine further + contends against the "mere machine" theory in Fable IX., Book XI. +[4] _One of truly royal race_.--John Sobieski.--Translator. At the + time this was written, Sobieski's great victory over the Turks at + Choczim (1673) was resounding throughout Europe, and had made him + King of Poland (1674). Sobieski had previously been a frequent + visitor at the house of Madame de la Sabliere, where La Fontaine had + often met him. Sobieski is again alluded to as a guest of Madame de + la Sabliere, in Fable XV., Book XII. +[5] _Old Epicurus' rival_.--Descartes.--Translator. + + +II.--THE MAN AND THE ADDER.[6] + + 'You villain!' cried a man who found + An adder coil'd upon the ground, + 'To do a very grateful deed + For all the world, I shall proceed.' + On this the animal perverse + (I mean the snake; + Pray don't mistake + The human for the worse) + Was caught and bagg'd, and, worst of all, + His blood was by his captor to be spilt + Without regard to innocence or guilt. + Howe'er, to show the why, these words let fall + His judge and jailor, proud and tall:-- + 'Thou type of all ingratitude! + All charity to hearts like thine + Is folly, certain to be rued. + Die, then, + Thou foe of men! + Thy temper and thy teeth malign + Shall never hurt a hair of mine.' + The muffled serpent, on his side, + The best a serpent could, replied,-- + 'If all this world's ingrates + Must meet with such a death, + Who from this worst of fates + Could save his breath? + Upon thyself thy law recoils; + I throw myself upon thy broils, + Thy graceless revelling on spoils; + If thou but homeward cast an eye, + Thy deeds all mine will justify. + But strike: my life is in thy hand; + Thy justice, all may understand, + Is but thy interest, pleasure, or caprice:-- + Pronounce my sentence on such laws as these. + But give me leave to tell thee, while I can, + The type of all ingratitude is man.' + By such a lecture somewhat foil'd, + The other back a step recoil'd, + And finally replied,-- + 'Thy reasons are abusive, + And wholly inconclusive. + I might the case decide + Because to me such right belongs; + But let's refer the case of wrongs.' + The snake agreed; they to a cow referr'd it. + Who, being called, came graciously and heard it. + Then, summing up, 'What need,' said she, + 'In such a case, to call on me? + The adder's right, plain truth to bellow; + For years I've nursed this haughty fellow, + Who, but for me, had long ago + Been lodging with the shades below. + For him my milk has had to flow, + My calves, at tender age, to die. + And for this best of wealth, + And often reestablished health, + What pay, or even thanks, have I? + Here, feeble, old, and worn, alas! + I'm left without a bite of grass. + Were I but left, it might be weather'd, + But, shame to say it, I am tether'd. + And now my fate is surely sadder + Than if my master were an adder, + With brains within the latitude + Of such immense ingratitude. + This, gentles, is my honest view; + And so I bid you both adieu.' + The man, confounded and astonish'd + To be so faithfully admonish'd, + Replied, 'What fools to listen, now, + To this old, silly, dotard cow! + Let's trust the ox.' 'Let's trust,' replied + The crawling beast, well gratified. + So said, so done; + The ox, with tardy pace, came on + And, ruminating o'er the case, + Declared, with very serious face, + That years of his most painful toil + Had clothed with Ceres' gifts our soil-- + Her gifts to men--but always sold + To beasts for higher cost than gold; + And that for this, for his reward, + More blows than thanks return'd his lord; + And then, when age had chill'd his blood, + And men would quell the wrath of Heaven, + Out must be pour'd the vital flood, + For others' sins, all thankless given. + So spake the ox; and then the man:-- + 'Away with such a dull declaimer! + Instead of judge, it is his plan + To play accuser and defamer.' + A tree was next the arbitrator, + And made the wrong of man still greater. + It served as refuge from the heat, + The showers, and storms which madly beat; + It grew our gardens' greatest pride, + Its shadow spreading far and wide, + And bow'd itself with fruit beside: + But yet a mercenary clown + With cruel iron chopp'd it down. + Behold the recompense for which, + Year after year, it did enrich, + With spring's sweet flowers, and autumn's fruits, + And summer's shade, both men and brutes, + And warm'd the hearth with many a limb + Which winter from its top did trim! + Why could not man have pruned and spared, + And with itself for ages shared?-- + Much scorning thus to be convinced, + The man resolved his cause to gain. + Quoth he, 'My goodness is evinced + By hearing this, 'tis very plain;' + Then flung the serpent bag and all, + With fatal force, against a wall. + + So ever is it with the great, + With whom the whim doth always run, + That Heaven all creatures doth create + For their behoof beneath the sun-- + Count they four feet, or two, or none. + If one should dare the fact dispute, + He's straight set down a stupid brute. + Now, grant it so,--such lords among, + What should be done, or said, or sung? + At distance speak, or hold your tongue. + +[6] Bidpaii. + + + + +III.--THE TORTOISE AND THE TWO DUCKS.[7] + + A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, + Tired of her hole, the world would see. + Prone are all such, self-banish'd, to roam-- + Prone are all cripples to abhor their home. + Two ducks, to whom the gossip told + The secret of her purpose bold, + Profess'd to have the means whereby + They could her wishes gratify. + 'Our boundless road,' said they, 'behold! + It is the open air; + And through it we will bear + You safe o'er land and ocean. + Republics, kingdoms, you will view, + And famous cities, old and new; + And get of customs, laws, a notion,-- + Of various wisdom various pieces, + As did, indeed, the sage Ulysses.' + The eager tortoise waited not + To question what Ulysses got, + But closed the bargain on the spot. + A nice machine the birds devise + To bear their pilgrim through the skies.-- + Athwart her mouth a stick they throw: + 'Now bite it hard, and don't let go,' + They say, and seize each duck an end, + And, swiftly flying, upward tend. + It made the people gape and stare + Beyond the expressive power of words, + To see a tortoise cut the air, + Exactly poised between two birds. + 'A miracle,' they cried, 'is seen! + There goes the flying tortoise queen!' + 'The queen!' ('twas thus the tortoise spoke;) + 'I'm truly that, without a joke.' + Much better had she held her tongue + For, opening that whereby she clung, + Before the gazing crowd she fell, + And dash'd to bits her brittle shell. + + Imprudence, vanity, and babble, + And idle curiosity, + An ever-undivided rabble, + Have all the same paternity. + +[7] Bidpaii. + + + + +IV.--THE FISHES AND THE CORMORANT.[8] + + No pond nor pool within his haunt + But paid a certain cormorant + Its contribution from its fishes, + And stock'd his kitchen with good dishes. + Yet, when old age the bird had chill'd, + His kitchen was less amply fill'd. + All cormorants, however grey, + Must die, or for themselves purvey. + But ours had now become so blind, + His finny prey he could not find; + And, having neither hook nor net, + His appetite was poorly met. + What hope, with famine thus infested? + Necessity, whom history mentions, + A famous mother of inventions, + The following stratagem suggested: + He found upon the water's brink + A crab, to which said he, 'My friend, + A weighty errand let me send: + Go quicker than a wink-- + Down to the fishes sink, + And tell them they are doom'd to die; + For, ere eight days have hasten'd by, + Its lord will fish this water dry.' + The crab, as fast as she could scrabble, + Went down, and told the scaly rabble. + What bustling, gathering, agitation! + Straight up they send a deputation + To wait upon the ancient bird. + 'Sir Cormorant, whence hast thou heard + This dreadful news? And what + Assurance of it hast thou got? + How such a danger can we shun? + Pray tell us, what is to be done? + 'Why, change your dwelling-place,' said he, + 'What, change our dwelling! How can we?' + 'O, by your leave, I'll take that care, + And, one by one, in safety bear + You all to my retreat: + The path's unknown + To any feet, + Except my own. + A pool, scoop'd out by Nature's hands, + Amidst the desert rocks and sands, + Where human traitors never come, + Shall save your people from their doom.' + The fish republic swallow'd all, + And, coming at the fellow's call, + Were singly borne away to stock + A pond beneath a lonely rock; + And there good prophet cormorant, + Proprietor and bailiff sole, + From narrow water, clear and shoal, + With ease supplied his daily want, + And taught them, at their own expense, + That heads well stored with common sense + Give no devourers confidence.-- + Still did the change not hurt their case, + Since, had they staid, the human race, + Successful by pernicious art, + Would have consumed as large a part. + What matters who your flesh devours, + Of human or of bestial powers? + In this respect, or wild or tame, + All stomachs seem to me the same: + The odds is small, in point of sorrow, + Of death to-day, or death to-morrow. + +[8] Bidpaii. + + + + +V.--THE BURIER AND HIS COMRADE.[9] + + A close-fist had his money hoarded + Beyond the room his till afforded. + His avarice aye growing ranker, + (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) + He was perplex'd to choose a banker; + For banker he must have, he thought, + Or all his heap would come to nought. + 'I fear,' said he, 'if kept at home, + And other robbers should not come, + It might be equal cause of grief + That I had proved myself the thief.' + The thief! Is to enjoy one's pelf + To rob or steal it from one's self? + My friend, could but my pity reach you, + This lesson I would gladly teach you, + That wealth is weal no longer than + Diffuse and part with it you can: + Without that power, it is a woe. + Would you for age keep back its flow? + Age buried 'neath its joyless snow? + With pains of getting, care of got + Consumes the value, every jot, + Of gold that one can never spare. + To take the load of such a care, + Assistants were not very rare. + The earth was that which pleased him best. + Dismissing thought of all the rest, + He with his friend, his trustiest,-- + A sort of shovel-secretary,-- + Went forth his hoard to bury. + Safe done, a few days afterward, + The man must look beneath the sward-- + When, what a mystery! behold + The mine exhausted of its gold! + Suspecting, with the best of cause, + His friend was privy to his loss, + He bade him, in a cautious mood, + To come as soon as well he could, + For still some other coins he had, + Which to the rest he wish'd to add. + Expecting thus to get the whole, + The friend put back the sum he stole, + Then came with all despatch. + The other proved an overmatch: + Resolved at length to save by spending, + His practice thus most wisely mending, + The total treasure home he carried-- + No longer hoarded it or buried. + Chapfallen was the thief, when gone + He saw his prospects and his pawn. + + From this it may be stated, + That knaves with ease are cheated. + +[9] Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE WOLF AND THE SHEPHERDS.[10] + + A Wolf, replete + With humanity sweet, + (A trait not much suspected,) + On his cruel deeds, + The fruit of his needs, + Profoundly thus reflected. + + 'I'm hated,' said he, + 'As joint enemy, + By hunters, dogs, and clowns. + They swear I shall die, + And their hue and cry + The very thunder drowns. + + 'My brethren have fled, + With price on the head, + From England's merry land. + King Edgar came out, + And put them to rout,[11] + With many a deadly band. + + 'And there's not a squire + But blows up the fire + By hostile proclamation; + Nor a human brat, + Dares cry, but that + Its mother mocks my nation. + + 'And all for what? + For a sheep with the rot, + Or scabby, mangy ass, + Or some snarling cur, + With less meat than fur, + On which I've broken fast! + + 'Well, henceforth I'll strive + That nothing alive + Shall die to quench my thirst; + No lambkin shall fall, + Nor puppy, at all, + To glut my maw accurst. + With grass I'll appease, + Or browse on the trees, + Or die of famine first. + + 'What of carcass warm? + Is it worth the storm + Of universal hate?' + As he spoke these words, + The lords of the herds, + All seated at their bait, + He saw; and observed + The meat which was served + Was nought but roasted lamb! + 'O! O!' said the beast, + 'Repent of my feast-- + All butcher as I am-- + On these vermin mean, + Whose guardians e'en + Eat at a rate quadruple!-- + Themselves and their dogs, + As greedy as hogs, + And I, a wolf, to scruple!' + + 'Look out for your wool + I'll not be a fool, + The very pet I'll eat; + The lamb the best-looking, + Without any cooking, + I'll strangle from the teat; + And swallow the dam, + As well as the lamb, + And stop her foolish bleat. + Old Hornie, too,--rot him,-- + The sire that begot him + Shall be among my meat!' + + Well-reasoning beast! + Were we sent to feast + On creatures wild and tame? + And shall we reduce + The beasts to the use + Of vegetable game? + + Shall animals not + Have flesh-hook or pot, + As in the age of gold? + And we claim the right, + In the pride of our might, + Themselves to have and hold? + O shepherds, that keep + Your folds full of sheep, + The wolf was only wrong, + Because, so to speak, + His jaws were too weak + To break your palings strong. + +[10] Founded upon one of Philibert Hegemon's Fables. +[11] _King Edgar put them to rout._--The English king Edgar (reigned + 959-75) took great pains in hunting and pursuing wolves; "and," says + Hume, "when he found that all that escaped him had taken shelter in + the mountains and forests of Wales, he changed the tribute of money + imposed on the Welsh princes by Athelstan, his predecessor, into an + annual tribute of three hundred heads of wolves; which produced such + diligence in hunting them, that the animal has been no more seen in + this island."--Hume's _England_, vol. i., p. 99, Bell's edit., 1854. + + + + +VII.--THE SPIDER AND THE SWALLOW.[12] + + 'O Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, + By odd obstetrics freed from pain, + Bore Pallas,[13] erst my mortal foe,[14] + Pray listen to my tale of woe. + This Progne[15] takes my lawful prey. + As through the air she cuts her way, + And skims the waves in seeming play. + My flies she catches from my door,-- + 'Yes, _mine_--I emphasize the word,-- + And, but for this accursed bird, + My net would hold an ample store: + For I have woven it of stuff + To hold the strongest strong enough.' + 'Twas thus, in terms of insolence, + Complain'd the fretful spider, once + Of palace-tapestry a weaver, + But then a spinster and deceiver, + That hoped within her toils to bring + Of insects all that ply the wing. + The sister swift of Philomel, + Intent on business, prosper'd well; + In spite of the complaining pest, + The insects carried to her nest-- + Nest pitiless to suffering flies-- + Mouths gaping aye, to gormandize, + Of young ones clamouring, + And stammering, + With unintelligible cries. + The spider, with but head and feet. + And powerless to compete + With wings so fleet, + Soon saw herself a prey. + The swallow, passing swiftly by, + Bore web and all away, + The spinster dangling in the sky! + + Two tables hath our Maker set + For all that in this world are met. + To seats around the first + The skilful, vigilant, and strong are beckon'd: + Their hunger and their thirst + The rest must quell with leavings at the second. + +[12] Abstemius. +[13] _Pallas_.--An allusion to the birth of Pallas, or Minerva--grown and + armed--from the brain of Jove. +[14] _Mortal foe_.--Arachne (whence the spider (_aranea_) has its name) + was a woman of Colopho who challenged Pallas to a trial of skill in + needlework, and, being defeated, hanged herself. She was changed + into a spider: _vide_ Ovid, _Metam._, Book VI., &c. +[15] _Progne_.--The sister of Philomela, turned into a swallow, as + mentioned in note to Fable XV., Book III. + + + + +VIII.--THE PARTRIDGE AND THE COCKS.[16] + + With a set of uncivil and turbulent cocks, + That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks, + A partridge was placed to be rear'd. + Her sex, by politeness revered, + Made her hope, from a gentry devoted to love, + For the courtesy due to the tenderest dove; + Nay, protection chivalric from knights of the yard. + That gentry, however, with little regard + For the honours and knighthood wherewith they were deck'd, + And for the strange lady as little respect, + Her ladyship often most horribly peck'd. + At first, she was greatly afflicted therefor, + But when she had noticed these madcaps at war + With each other, and dealing far bloodier blows, + Consoling her own individual woes,-- + 'Entail'd by their customs,' said she, 'is the shame; + Let us pity the simpletons rather than blame. + Our Maker creates not all spirits the same; + The cocks and the partridges certainly differ, + By a nature than laws of civility stiffer. + Were the choice to be mine, I would finish my life + In society freer from riot and strife. + But the lord of this soil has a different plan; + His tunnel our race to captivity brings, + He throws us with cocks, after clipping our wings. + 'Tis little we have to complain of but man.' + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE DOG WHOSE EARS WERE CROPPED. + + 'What have I done, I'd like to know, + To make my master maim me so? + A pretty figure I shall cut! + From other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut. + Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho! + Would any beast have served you so?' + Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young;-- + The man, whom pity never stung, + Went on to prune him of his ears. + Though Growler whined about his losses, + He found, before the lapse of years, + Himself a gainer by the process; + For, being by his nature prone + To fight his brethren for a bone, + He'd oft come back from sad reverse + With those appendages the worse. + All snarling dogs have ragged ears. + + The less of hold for teeth of foe, + The better will the battle go. + When, in a certain place, one fears + The chance of being hurt or beat, + He fortifies it from defeat. + Besides the shortness of his ears, + See Growler arm'd against his likes + With gorget full of ugly spikes. + A wolf would find it quite a puzzle + To get a hold about his muzzle. + + + + +X.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.[17] + + Two demons at their pleasure share our being-- + The cause of Reason from her homestead fleeing; + No heart but on their altars kindleth flames. + If you demand their purposes and names, + The one is Love, the other is Ambition. + Of far the greater share this takes possession, + For even into love it enters, + Which I might prove; but now my story centres + Upon a shepherd clothed with lofty powers: + The tale belongs to older times than ours. + + A king observed a flock, wide spread + Upon the plains, most admirably fed, + O'erpaying largely, as return'd the years, + Their shepherd's care, by harvests for his shears. + Such pleasure in this man the monarch took,-- + 'Thou meritest,' said he, 'to wield a crook + O'er higher flock than this; and my esteem + O'er men now makes thee judge supreme.' + Behold our shepherd, scales in hand, + Although a hermit and a wolf or two, + Besides his flock and dogs, were all he knew! + Well stock'd with sense, all else upon demand + Would come of course, and did, we understand. + His neighbour hermit came to him to say, + 'Am I awake? Is this no dream, I pray? + You favourite! you great! Beware of kings, + Their favours are but slippery things, + Dear-bought; to mount the heights to which they call + Is but to court a more illustrious fall. + You little know to what this lure beguiles. + My friend, I say, Beware!' The other smiles. + The hermit adds, 'See how + The court has marr'd your wisdom even now! + That purblind traveller I seem to see, + Who, having lost his whip, by strange mistake, + Took for a better one a snake; + But, while he thank'd his stars, brimful of glee, + Outcried a passenger, "God shield your breast! + Why, man, for life, throw down that treacherous pest, + That snake!"--"It is my whip."--"A snake, I say: + What selfish end could prompt my warning, pray? + Think you to keep your prize?"--"And wherefore not? + My whip was worn; I've found another new: + This counsel grave from envy springs in you."-- + The stubborn wight would not believe a jot, + Till warm and lithe the serpent grew, + And, striking with his venom, slew + The man almost upon the spot. + And as to you, I dare predict + That something worse will soon afflict.' + 'Indeed? What worse than death, prophetic hermit?' + 'Perhaps, the compound heartache I may term it.' + And never was there truer prophecy. + Full many a courtier pest, by many a lie + Contrived, and many a cruel slander, + To make the king suspect the judge awry + In both ability and candour. + Cabals were raised, and dark conspiracies, + Of men that felt aggrieved by his decrees. + 'With wealth of ours he hath a palace built,' + Said they. The king, astonish'd at his guilt, + His ill-got riches ask'd to see. + He found but mediocrity, + Bespeaking strictest honesty. + So much for his magnificence. + Anon, his plunder was a hoard immense + Of precious stones that fill'd an iron box + All fast secur'd by half a score of locks. + Himself the coffer oped, and sad surprise + Befell those manufacturers of lies. + The open'd lid disclosed no other matters + Than, first, a shepherd's suit in tatters, + And then a cap and jacket, pipe and crook, + And scrip, mayhap with pebbles from the brook. + 'O treasure sweet,' said he, 'that never drew + The viper brood of envy's lies on you! + I take you back, and leave this palace splendid, + As some roused sleeper doth a dream that's ended. + Forgive me, sire, this exclamation. + In mounting up, my fall I had foreseen, + Yet loved the height too well; for who hath been, + Of mortal race, devoid of all ambition?' + +[17] Bidpaii (_The Hermit_). Also in Lokman. + + + + +XI.--THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE.[18] + + Thrysis--who for his Annette dear + Made music with his flute and voice, + Which might have roused the dead to hear, + And in their silent graves rejoice-- + Sang once the livelong day, + In the flowery month of May, + Up and down a meadow brook, + While Annette fish'd with line and hook. + But ne'er a fish would bite; + So the shepherdess's bait + Drew not a fish to its fate, + From morning dawn till night. + The shepherd, who, by his charming songs, + Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs, + And done with them as he pleased to, + Thought that he could serve the fish so. + 'O citizens,' he sang, 'of this water, + Leave your Naiad in her grot profound; + Come and see the blue sky's lovely daughter, + Who a thousand times more will charm you; + Fear not that her prison will harm you, + Though there you should chance to get bound. + 'Tis only to us men she is cruel: + You she will treat kindly; + A snug little pond she'll find ye, + Clearer than a crystal jewel, + Where you may all live and do well; + Or, if by chance some few + Should find their fate + Conceal'd in the bait, + The happier still are you; + For envied is the death that's met + At the hands of sweet Annette.' + This eloquence not effecting + The object of his wishes, + Since it failed in collecting + The deaf and dumb fishes,-- + His sweet preaching wasted, + His honey'd talk untasted, + A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing + With a fell scoop at the scaly fry, + He caught them; and now, madly flouncing, + At the feet of his Annette they lie! + + O ye shepherds, whose sheep men are, + To trust in reason never dare. + The arts of eloquence sublime + Are not within your calling; + Your fish were caught, from oldest time, + By dint of nets and hauling. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND HIS SON.[19] + + Two parrots lived, a sire and son, + On roastings from a royal fire. + Two demigods, a son and sire, + These parrots pension'd for their fun. + Time tied the knot of love sincere: + The sires grew to each other dear; + The sons, in spite of their frivolity, + Grew comrades boon, in joke and jollity; + At mess they mated, hot or cool; + Were fellow-scholars at a school. + Which did the bird no little honour, since + The boy, by king begotten, was a prince. + By nature fond of birds, the prince, too, petted + A sparrow, which delightfully coquetted. + These rivals, both of unripe feather, + One day were frolicking together: + As oft befalls such little folks, + A quarrel follow'd from their jokes. + The sparrow, quite uncircumspect, + Was by the parrot sadly peck'd; + With drooping wing and bloody head, + His master pick'd him up for dead, + And, being quite too wroth to bear it, + In heat of passion kill'd his parrot. + When this sad piece of news he heard, + Distracted was the parent bird. + His piercing cries bespoke his pain; + But cries and tears were all in vain. + The talking bird had left the shore;[20] + In short, he, talking now no more, + Caused such a rage to seize his sire, + That, lighting on the prince in ire, + He put out both his eyes, + And fled for safety as was wise. + The bird a pine for refuge chose, + And to its lofty summit rose; + There, in the bosom of the skies, + Enjoy'd his vengeance sweet, + And scorn'd the wrath beneath his feet. + Out ran the king, and cried, in soothing tone, + 'Return, dear friend; what serves it to bemoan? + Hate, vengeance, mourning, let us both omit. + For me, it is no more than fit + To own, though with an aching heart, + The wrong is wholly on our part. + Th' aggressor truly was my son-- + My son? no; but by Fate the deed was done. + Ere birth of Time, stern Destiny + Had written down the sad decree, + That by this sad calamity + Your child should cease to live, and mine to see. + + 'Let both, then, cease to mourn; + And you, back to your cage return.' + 'Sire king,' replied the bird, + 'Think you that, after such a deed, + I ought to trust your word? + You speak of Fate; by such a heathen creed + Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed? + But whether Fate or Providence divine + Gives law to things below, + 'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine, + Or where wild forests grow, + My days I finish, safely, far + From that which ought your love to mar, + And turn it all to hate. + Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel, + And ever hath been part and parcel + Of this your godlike state. + You would forget the cause of grief; + Suppose I grant you my belief,-- + 'Tis better still to make it true, + By keeping out of sight of you. + Sire king, my friend, no longer wait + For friendship to be heal'd;.... + But absence is the cure of hate, + As 'tis from love the shield.' + +[19] Bidpaii. In Knatchbull's English edition the fable is titled "The + King and the Bird, or the emblem of revengeful persons who are + unworthy of trust." It is also in the Lokman collection. +[20] _The talking bird_, &c.--"Stygia natabat jam frigida + cymba."--VIRG.--Translator. + + + + +XIII.--THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR. + + The lioness had lost her young; + A hunter stole it from the vale; + The forests and the mountains rung + Responsive to her hideous wail. + Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, + Could still the loud lament that rose + From that grim forest queen. + No animal, as you might think, + With such a noise could sleep a wink. + A bear presumed to intervene. + 'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she, + 'And that is all, from me. + The young that through your teeth have pass'd, + In file unbroken by a fast, + Had they nor dam nor sire?' + 'They had them both.' 'Then I desire, + Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, + While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, + To know why you yourself cannot be quiet?' + 'I quiet!--I!--a wretch bereaved! + My only son!--such anguish be relieved! + No, never! All for me below + Is but a life of tears and woe!'-- + 'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so?'-- + 'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.' + + Such language, since the mortal fall, + Has fallen from the lips of all. + Ye human wretches, give your heed; + For your complaints there's little need. + Let him who thinks his own the hardest case, + Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold, + Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold, + And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace. + + + + + +XIV.--THE TWO ADVENTURERS AND THE TALISMAN.[21] + + No flowery path to glory leads. + This truth no better voucher needs + Than Hercules, of mighty deeds. + Few demigods, the tomes of fable + Reveal to us as being able + Such weight of task-work to endure: + In history, I find still fewer. + One such, however, here behold-- + A knight by talisman made bold, + Within the regions of romance, + To seek adventures with the lance. + There rode a comrade at his ride, + And as they rode they both espied + This writing on a post:-- + "Wouldst see, sir valiant knight, + A thing whereof the sight + No errant yet can boast? + Thou hast this torrent but to ford, + And, lifting up, alone, + The elephant of stone + Upon its margin shored, + Upbear it to the mountain's brow, + Round which, aloft before thee now, + The misty chaplets wreathe-- + Not stopping once to breathe." + One knight, whose nostrils bled, + Betokening courage fled, + Cried out, 'What if that current's sweep + Not only rapid be, but deep! + And grant it cross'd,--pray, why encumber + One's arms with that unwieldy lumber, + An elephant of stone? + Perhaps the artist may have done + His work in such a way, that one + Might lug it twice its length; + But then to reach yon mountain top, + And that without a breathing stop, + Were surely past a mortal's strength-- + Unless, indeed, it be no bigger + Than some wee, pigmy, dwarfish figure, + Which one would head a cane withal;-- + And if to this the case should fall, + The adventurer's honour would be small! + This posting seems to me a trap, + Or riddle for some greenish chap; + I therefore leave the whole to you.' + The doubtful reasoner onward hies. + With heart resolved, in spite of eyes, + The other boldly dashes through; + Nor depth of flood nor force + Can stop his onward course. + He finds the elephant of stone; + He lifts it all alone; + Without a breathing stop, + He bears it to the top + Of that steep mount, and seeth there + A high-wall'd city, great and fair. + Out-cried the elephant--and hush'd; + But forth in arms the people rush'd. + A knight less bold had surely fled; + But he, so far from turning back, + His course right onward sped, + Resolved himself to make attack, + And die but with the bravest dead. + Amazed was he to hear that band + Proclaim him monarch of their land, + And welcome him, in place of one + Whose death had left a vacant throne! + In sooth, he lent a gracious ear, + Meanwhile expressing modest fear, + Lest such a load of royal care + Should be too great for him to bear. + And so, exactly, Sixtus[22] said, + When first the pope's tiara press'd his head; + (Though, is it such a grievous thing + To be a pope, or be a king?) + But days were few before they read it, + That with but little truth he said it. + + Blind Fortune follows daring blind. + Oft executes the wisest man, + Ere yet the wisdom of his mind + Is task'd his means or end to scan. + +[21] Bidpaii; also in Lokman. +[22] _Sixtus_.--Pope Sixtus V., who simulated decrepitude to get + elected to the Papal chair, and when elected threw off all disguise + and ruled despotically. + + + + +XV.--THE RABBITS.[23] + +An Address To The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.[24] + + While watching man in all his phases, + And seeing that, in many cases, + He acts just like the brute creation,-- + I've thought the lord of all these races + Of no less failings show'd the traces + Than do his lieges in relation; + And that, in making it, Dame Nature + Hath put a spice in every creature + From off the self-same spirit-stuff-- + Not from the immaterial, + But what we call ethereal, + Refined from matter rough. + An illustration please to hear. + Just on the still frontier + Of either day or night,-- + Or when the lord of light + Reclines his radiant head + Upon his watery bed, + Or when he dons the gear, + To drive a new career,-- + While yet with doubtful sway + The hour is ruled 'twixt night and day,-- + Some border forest-tree I climb; + And, acting Jove, from height sublime + My fatal bolt at will directing, + I kill some rabbit unsuspecting. + The rest that frolick'd on the heath, + Or browsed the thyme with dainty teeth, + With open eye and watchful ear, + Behold, all scampering from beneath, + Instinct with mortal fear. + All, frighten'd simply by the sound, + Hie to their city underground. + But soon the danger is forgot, + And just as soon the fear lives not: + The rabbits, gayer than before, + I see beneath my hand once more! + + Are not mankind well pictured here? + By storms asunder driven, + They scarcely reach their haven, + And cast their anchor, ere + They tempt the same dread shocks + Of tempests, waves, and rocks. + True rabbits, back they frisk + To meet the self-same risk! + + I add another common case. + When dogs pass through a place + Beyond their customary bounds, + And meet with others, curs or hounds, + Imagine what a holiday! + The native dogs, whose interests centre + In one great organ, term'd the venter, + The strangers rush at, bite, and bay; + With cynic pertness tease and worry, + And chase them off their territory. + So, too, do men. Wealth, grandeur, glory, + To men of office or profession, + Of every sort, in every nation, + As tempting are, and sweet, + As is to dogs the refuse meat. + With us, it is a general fact, + One sees the latest-come attack'd, + And plunder'd to the skin. + Coquettes and authors we may view, + As samples of the sin; + For woe to belle or writer new! + The fewer eaters round the cake, + The fewer players for the stake, + The surer each one's self to take. + A hundred facts my truth might test; + But shortest works are always best. + In this I but pursue the chart + Laid down by masters of the art; + And, on the best of themes, I hold, + The truth should never all be told. + Hence, here my sermon ought to close. + O thou, to whom my fable owes + Whate'er it has of solid worth,-- + Who, great by modesty as well as birth, + Hast ever counted praise a pain,-- + Whose leave I could so ill obtain + That here your name, receiving homage, + Should save from every sort of damage + My slender works--which name, well known + To nations, and to ancient Time, + All France delights to own; + Herself more rich in names sublime + Than any other earthly clime;-- + Permit me here the world to teach + That you have given my simple rhyme + The text from which it dares to preach. + +[23] This fable in the original editions has no other title save--"An + Address," &c. Later editors titled it "Les Lapins." +[24] _Rochefoucauld_.--See Fable XI., Book I., also dedicated to the + duke, and the note thereto. + + + + +XVI.--THE MERCHANT, THE NOBLE, THE SHEPHERD, AND THE KING'S SON.[25] + + Four voyagers to parts unknown, + On shore, not far from naked, thrown + By furious waves,--a merchant, now undone, + A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son,-- + Brought to the lot of Belisarius,[26] + Their wants supplied on alms precarious. + To tell what fates, and winds, and weather, + Had brought these mortals all together, + Though from far distant points abscinded, + Would make my tale long-winded. + Suffice to say, that, by a fountain met, + In council grave these outcasts held debate. + The prince enlarged, in an oration set, + Upon the mis'ries that befall the great. + The shepherd deem'd it best to cast + Off thought of all misfortune past, + And each to do the best he could, + In efforts for the common weal. + 'Did ever a repining mood,' + He added, 'a misfortune heal? + Toil, friends, will take us back to Rome, + Or make us here as good a home.' + A shepherd so to speak! a shepherd? What! + As though crown'd heads were not, + By Heaven's appointment fit, + The sole receptacles of wit! + As though a shepherd could be deeper, + In thought or knowledge, than his sheep are! + The three, howe'er, at once approved his plan, + Wreck'd as they were on shores American. + 'I'll teach arithmetic,' the merchant said,-- + Its rules, of course, well seated in his head,-- + 'For monthly pay.' The prince replied, 'And I + Will teach political economy.' + 'And I,' the noble said, 'in heraldry + Well versed, will open for that branch a school--' + As if, beyond a thousand leagues of sea, + That senseless jargon could befool! + 'My friends, you talk like men,' + The shepherd cried, 'but then + The month has thirty days; till they are spent, + Are we upon your faith to keep full Lent? + The hope you give is truly good; + But, ere it comes, we starve for food! + Pray tell me, if you can divine, + On what, to-morrow, we shall dine; + Or tell me, rather, whence we may + Obtain a supper for to-day. + This point, if truth should be confess'd, + Is first, and vital to the rest. + Your science short in this respect, + My hands shall cover the defect.--' + This said, the nearest woods he sought, + And thence for market fagots brought, + Whose price that day, and eke the next, + Relieved the company perplex'd-- + Forbidding that, by fasting, they should go + To use their talents in the world below. + + We learn from this adventure's course, + There needs but little skill to get a living. + Thanks to the gifts of Nature's giving, + Our hands are much the readiest resource. + +[25] Bidpaii, and Lokman. +[26] _Belisarius_.--Belisarius was a great general, who, having + commanded the armies of the emperor, and lost the favour of his + master, fell to such a point of destitution that he asked alms upon + the highways.--La Fontaine. The touching story of the fall of + Belisarius, of which painters and poets have made so much, is + entirely false, as may be seen by consulting Gibbon's "Decline and + Fall of the Roman Empire," chap. xliii.--Translator. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK XI. + + +I.--THE LION.[1] + + Some time ago, a sultan Leopard, + By means of many a rich escheat, + Had many an ox in meadow sweet, + And many a stag in forest, fleet, + And (what a savage sort of shepherd!) + Full many a sheep upon the plains, + That lay within his wide domains. + Not far away, one morn, + There was a lion born. + Exchanged high compliments of state, + As is the custom with the great, + The sultan call'd his vizier Fox, + Who had a deeper knowledge-box, + And said to him, 'This lion's whelp you dread; + What can he do, his father being dead? + Our pity rather let him share, + An orphan so beset with care. + The luckiest lion ever known, + If, letting conquest quite alone, + He should have power to keep his own.' + Sir Renard said, + And shook his head, + 'Such orphans, please your majesty, + Will get no pity out of me. + We ought to keep within his favour, + Or else with all our might endeavour + To thrust him out of life and throne, + Ere yet his claws and teeth are grown. + There's not a moment to be lost. + His horoscope I've cast; + He'll never quarrel to his cost; + But then his friendship fast + Will be to friends of greater worth + Than any lion's e'er on earth. + Try then, my liege, to make it ours, + Or else to check his rising powers.' + The warning fell in vain. + The sultan slept; and beasts and men + Did so, throughout his whole domain, + Till lion's whelp became a lion. + Then came at once the tocsin cry on, + Alarm and fluttering consternation. + The vizier call'd to consultation, + A sigh escaped him as he said, + 'Why all this mad excitement now, + When hope is fled, no matter how? + A thousand men were useless aid,-- + The more, the worse,--since all their power + Would be our mutton to devour. + Appease this lion; sole he doth exceed + The helpers all that on us feed. + And three hath he, that cost him nought-- + His courage, strength, and watchful thought. + Quick send a wether for his use: + If not contented, send him more; + Yes, add an ox, and see you choose + The best our pastures ever bore. + Thus save the rest.'--But such advice + The sultan spurn'd, as cowardice. + And his, and many states beside, + Did ills, in consequence, betide. + However fought this world allied, + The beast maintain'd his power and pride. + If you must let the lion grow, + Don't let him live to be your foe. + +[1] The fable of the young Leopard in the Bidpaii collection resembles + this. + + + + +II.--THE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON OF JUPITER.[2] + +For Monseigneur The Duke Du Maine. + + To Jupiter was born a son,[3] + Who, conscious of his origin, + A godlike spirit had within. + To love, such age is little prone; + Yet this celestial boy + Made love his chief employ, + And was beloved wherever known. + In him both love and reason + Sprang up before their season. + With charming smiles and manners winning, + Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning, + As an Olympian became: + Whatever lights the tender flame,-- + A heart to take and render bliss,-- + Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his. + Jove's son, he should of course inherit + A higher and a nobler spirit + Than sons of other deities. + It seem'd as if by Memory's aid-- + As if a previous life had made + Experiment and hid it-- + He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade, + So perfectly he did it. + Still Jupiter would educate + In manner fitting to his state. + The gods, obedient to his call, + Assemble in their council-hall; + When thus the sire: 'Companionless and sole, + Thus far the boundless universe I roll; + But numerous other offices there are, + Of which I give to younger gods the care. + I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child, + Whose countless altars are already piled. + To merit such regard from all below, + All things the young immortal ought to know.' + No sooner had the Thund'rer ended, + Than each his godlike plan commended; + Nor did the boy too little yearn + His lesson infinite to learn. + Said fiery Mars, 'I take the part + To make him master of the art + Whereby so many heroes high + Have won the honours of the sky.' + 'To teach him music be my care,' + Apollo said, the wise and fair; + 'And mine,' that mighty god replied, + In the Nemaean lion's hide, + 'To teach him to subdue + The vices, an envenom'd crew, + Like Hydras springing ever new. + The foe of weakening luxury, + The boy divine will learn from me + Those rugged paths, so little trod, + That lead to glory man and god.' + Said Cupid, when it came his turn, + 'All things from me the boy may learn.' + + Well spoke the god of love. + What feat of Mars, or Hercules, + Or bright Apollo, lies above + Wit, wing'd by a desire to please? + +[2] This title does not exist in the original editions. It appeared for + the first time in the edition of 1709. The original heading to the + fable is "For Monseigneur," &c. +[3] _To Jupiter was born a son_.--Jupiter here is Louis XIV., and his son + is the Duke du Maine to whom the fable is addressed. The duke was the + son of Louis and Madame de Montespan. He was born at Versailles in + 1670; and when La Fontaine wrote this address to him he was about + eight years old, and the pupil of Madame de Maintenon, his mother's + successor in the affections of the king. + + + + +III.--THE FARMER, THE DOG, AND THE FOX.[4] + + The wolf and fox are neighbours strange: + I would not build within their range. + The fox once eyed with strict regard + From day to day, a poultry-yard; + But though a most accomplish'd cheat, + He could not get a fowl to eat. + Between the risk and appetite, + His rogueship's trouble was not slight. + 'Alas!' quoth he, 'this stupid rabble + But mock me with their constant gabble; + I go and come, and rack my brains, + And get my labour for my pains. + Your rustic owner, safe at home, + Takes all the profits as they come: + He sells his capons and his chicks, + Or keeps them hanging on his hook, + All dress'd and ready for his cook; + But I, adept in art and tricks, + Should I but catch the toughest crower, + Should be brimful of joy, and more. + O Jove supreme! why was I made + A master of the fox's trade? + By all the higher powers, and lower, + I swear to rob this chicken-grower!' + Revolving such revenge within, + When night had still'd the various din, + And poppies seem'd to bear full sway + O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay + Alike secure in slumber deep, + And cocks and hens were fast asleep, + Upon the populous roost he stole. + By negligence,--a common sin,-- + The farmer left unclosed the hole, + And, stooping down, the fox went in. + The blood of every fowl was spill'd, + The citadel with murder fill'd. + The dawn disclosed sad sights, I ween, + When heaps on slaughter'd heaps were seen, + All weltering in their mingled gore. + With horror stricken, as of yore, + The sun well nigh shrunk back again, + To hide beneath the liquid main. + Such sight once saw the Trojan plain, + When on the fierce Atrides'[5] head + Apollo's awful anger fell, + And strew'd the crimson field with dead: + Of Greeks, scarce one was left to tell + The carnage of that night so dread. + Such slaughter, too, around his tent, + The furious Ajax made, one night, + Of sheep and goats, in easy fight; + In anger blindly confident + That by his well-directed blows + Ulysses fell, or some of those + By whose iniquity and lies + That wily rival took the prize. + The fox, thus having Ajax play'd, + Bore off the nicest of the brood,-- + As many pullets as he could,-- + And left the rest, all prostrate laid. + The owner found his sole resource + His servants and his dog to curse. + 'You useless puppy, better drown'd! + Why did you not your 'larum sound?' + 'Why did you not the evil shun,' + Quoth Towser, 'as you might have done? + If you, whose interest was more, + Could sleep and leave an open door, + Think you that I, a dog at best, + Would watch, and lose my precious rest?' + This pithy speech had been, in truth, + Good logic in a master's mouth; + But, coming from a menial's lip, + It even lack'd the lawyership + To save poor Towser from the whip. + + O thou who head'st a family, + (An honour never grudged by me,) + Thou art a patriarch unwise, + To sleep, and trust another's eyes. + Thyself shouldst go to bed the last, + Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast. + I charge you never let a fox see + Your special business done by proxy. + +[4] Abstemius. +[5] _Atrides_.--Atreus, or Atrides, king of Mycenae, and grandfather + of Agamemnon. He caused his brother Theyestes to banquet on the flesh + of his own children. After the repast, proceeds the story, the arms + and heads of the murdered children were produced to convince + Theyestes of what he had feasted on; and at the deed "the sun shrunk + back in his course." + + + + +IV.--THE MOGUL'S DREAM.[6] + + Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, + A vizier in Elysian bliss; + No higher joy could be or seem, + Or purer, than was ever his. + Elsewhere was dream'd of by the same + A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame, + Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he, + The partners of his misery. + Was Minos[7] mock'd? or had these ghosts, + By some mistake, exchanged their posts? + Surprise at this the vision broke; + The dreamer suddenly awoke. + Some mystery suspecting in it, + He got a wise one to explain it. + Replied the sage interpreter, + 'Let not the thing a marvel seem: + There is a meaning in your dream: + If I have aught of knowledge, sir, + It covers counsel from the gods. + While tenanting these clay abodes, + This vizier sometimes gladly sought + The solitude that favours thought; + Whereas, the hermit, in his cot, + Had longings for a vizier's lot.' + To this interpretation dared I add, + The love of solitude I would inspire. + It satisfies the heart's desire + With unencumber'd gifts and glad-- + Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet, + Aye springing up beneath our feet. + O Solitude! whose secret charms I know-- + Retreats that I have loved--when shall I go + To taste, far from a world of din and noise, + Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice? + When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be? + When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar, + And cities with all solitude at war, + Engross entire, and teach their votary + The stealthy movements of the spangled nights, + The names and virtues of those errant lights + Which rule o'er human character and fate? + Or, if not born to purposes so great, + The streams, at least, shall win my heartfelt thanks, + While, in my verse, I paint their flowery banks. + Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread, + Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed, + Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head. + But will my sleep be less a treasure? + Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure? + I vow it, sweet and gentle as the dew, + Within those deserts sacrifices new; + And when the time shall come to yield my breath, + Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death.[8] + +[6] The original story of this fable is traced to Sadi, the Persian poet + and fabulist, who flourished in the twelfth century. La Fontaine + probably found it in the French edition of Sadi's "Gulistan; or the + Garden of Flowers" which was published by Andre du Ryer in 1634. +[7] _Minos_.--Chief judge in the infernal regions. +[8] For some remarks upon this fable see Translator's Preface. + + + + +V.--THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES.[9] + + The lion, for his kingdom's sake, + In morals would some lessons take, + And therefore call'd, one summer's day, + The monkey, master of the arts, + An animal of brilliant parts, + To hear what he could say. + 'Great king,' the monkey thus began, + 'To reign upon the wisest plan + Requires a prince to set his zeal, + And passion for the public weal, + Distinctly and quite high above + A certain feeling call'd self-love, + The parent of all vices, + In creatures of all sizes. + To will this feeling from one's breast away, + Is not the easy labour of a day; + 'Tis much to moderate its tyrant sway. + By that your majesty august, + Will execute your royal trust, + From folly free and aught unjust.' + 'Give me,' replied the king, + 'Example of each thing.' + 'Each species,' said the sage,-- + 'And I begin with ours,-- + Exalts its own peculiar powers + Above sound reason's gauge. + Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes + As fools and blockheads it describes, + With other compliments as cheap. + But, on the other hand, the same + Self-love inspires a beast to heap + The highest pyramid of fame + For every one that bears his name; + Because he justly deems such praise + The easiest way himself to raise. + 'Tis my conclusion in the case, + That many a talent here below + Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,-- + The art of seeming things to know-- + An art in which perfection lies + More with the ignorant than wise. + + 'Two asses tracking, t'other day, + Of which each in his turn, + Did incense to the other burn, + Quite in the usual way,-- + I heard one to his comrade say, + "My lord, do you not find + The prince of knaves and fools + To be this man, who boasts of mind + Instructed in his schools? + With wit unseemly and profane, + He mocks our venerable race-- + On each of his who lacketh brain + Bestows our ancient surname, ass! + And, with abusive tongue portraying, + Describes our laugh and talk as braying! + These bipeds of their folly tell us, + While thus pretending to excel us." + "No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend, + And let their orators attend. + The braying is their own, but let them be: + We understand each other, and agree, + And that's enough. As for your song, + Such wonders to its notes belong, + The nightingale is put to shame, + And Lambert[10] loses half his fame." + "My lord," the other ass replied, + "Such talents in yourself reside, + Of asses all, the joy and pride." + These donkeys, not quite satisfied + With scratching thus each other's hide, + Must needs the cities visit, + Their fortunes there to raise, + By sounding forth the praise, + Each, of the other's skill exquisite. + Full many, in this age of ours,-- + Not only among asses, + But in the higher classes, + Whom Heaven hath clothed with higher powers,-- + Dared they but do it, would exalt + A simple innocence from fault, + Or virtue common and domestic, + To excellence majestic. + I've said too much, perhaps; but I suppose + Your majesty the secret won't disclose, + Since 'twas your majesty's request that I + This matter should exemplify. + How love of self gives food to ridicule, + I've shown. To prove the balance of my rule, + That justice is a sufferer thereby, + A longer time will take.' + + 'Twas thus the monkey spake. + But my informant does not state, + That e'er the sage did demonstrate + The other point, more delicate. + Perhaps he thought none but a fool + A lion would too strictly school. + +[9] This fable is founded upon the Latin proverb _Asinus asinum fricat_. +[10] _Lambert_.--This was Michael Lambert, master of chamber-music to + Louis XIV., and brother-in-law to the Grand Monarque's other great + music man, J. B. Lulli, who was chapel-music master. + + + + +VI.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX. + + Why Aesop gave the palm of cunning, + O'er flying animals and running, + To Renard Fox, I cannot tell, + Though I have search'd the subject well. + Hath not Sir Wolf an equal skill + In tricks and artifices shown, + When he would do some life an ill, + Or from his foes defend his own? + I think he hath; and, void of disrespect, + I might, perhaps, my master contradict: + Yet here's a case, in which the burrow-lodger + Was palpably, I own, the brightest dodger. + One night he spied within a well, + Wherein the fullest moonlight fell, + What seem'd to him an ample cheese. + Two balanced buckets took their turns + When drawers thence would fill their urns. + Our fox went down in one of these, + By hunger greatly press'd to sup, + And drew the other empty up. + Convinced at once of his mistake, + And anxious for his safety's sake, + He saw his death was near and sure, + Unless some other wretch in need + The same moon's image should allure + To take a bucket and succeed + To his predicament, indeed. + Two days pass'd by, and none approach'd the well; + Unhalting Time, as is his wont, + Was scooping from the moon's full front, + And as he scoop'd Sir Renard's courage fell. + His crony wolf, of clamorous maw, + Poor fox at last above him saw, + And cried, 'My comrade, look you here! + See what abundance of good cheer! + A cheese of most delicious zest! + Which Faunus must himself have press'd, + Of milk by heifer Io given. + If Jupiter were sick in heaven, + The taste would bring his appetite. + I've taken, as you see, a bite; + But still for both there is a plenty. + Pray take the bucket that I've sent ye; + Come down, and get your share.' + Although, to make the story fair, + The fox had used his utmost care, + The wolf (a fool to give him credit) + Went down because his stomach bid it-- + And by his weight pull'd up + Sir Renard to the top. + We need not mock this simpleton, + For we ourselves such deeds have done. + Our faith is prone to lend its ear + To aught which we desire or fear. + + + + +VII.--THE PEASANT OF THE DANUBE.[11] + + To judge no man by outside view, + Is good advice, though not quite new. + Some time ago a mouse's fright + Upon this moral shed some light. + I have for proof at present, + With, Aesop and good Socrates,[12] + Of Danube's banks a certain peasant, + Whose portrait drawn to life, one sees, + By Marc Aurelius, if you please. + The first are well known, far and near: + I briefly sketch the other here. + The crop upon his fertile chin + Was anything but soft or thin; + Indeed, his person, clothed in hair, + Might personate an unlick'd bear. + Beneath his matted brow there lay + An eye that squinted every way; + A crooked nose and monstrous lips he bore, + And goat-skin round his trunk he wore, + With bulrush belt. And such a man as this is + Was delegate from towns the Danube kisses, + When not a nook on earth there linger'd + By Roman avarice not finger'd. + Before the senate thus he spoke:-- + 'Romans and senators who hear, + I, first of all, the gods invoke, + The powers whom mortals justly fear, + That from my tongue there may not fall + A word which I may need recall. + Without their aid there enters nought + To human hearts of good or just: + Whoever leaves the same unsought, + Is prone to violate his trust; + The prey of Roman avarice, + Ourselves are witnesses of this. + Rome, by our crimes, our scourge has grown, + More than by valour of her own. + Romans, beware lest Heaven, some day, + Exact for all our groans the pay, + And, arming us, by just reverse, + To do its vengeance, stern, but meet, + Shall pour on you the vassal's curse, + And place your necks beneath our feet! + And wherefore not? For are you better + Than hundreds of the tribes diverse + Who clank the galling Roman fetter? + What right gives you the universe? + Why come and mar our quiet life? + We till'd our acres free from strife; + In arts our hands were skill'd to toil, + As well as o'er the generous soil. + What have you taught the Germans brave? + Apt scholars, had but they + Your appetite for sway, + They might, instead of you, enslave, + Without your inhumanity. + That which your praetors perpetrate + On us, as subjects of your state, + My powers would fail me to relate. + Profaned their altars and their rites, + The pity of your gods our lot excites. + Thanks to your representatives, + In you they see but shameless thieves, + Who plunder gods as well as men. + By sateless avarice insane, + The men that rule our land from this + Are like the bottomless abyss. + To satisfy their lust of gain, + Both man and nature toil in vain. + Recall them; for indeed we will + Our fields for such no longer till. + From all our towns and plains we fly + For refuge to our mountains high. + We quit our homes and tender wives, + To lead with savage beasts our lives-- + No more to welcome into day + A progeny for Rome a prey. + And as to those already born-- + Poor helpless babes forlorn!-- + We wish them short career in time: + Your praetors force us to the crime. + Are they our teachers? Call them home,-- + They teach but luxury and vice,-- + Lest Germans should their likes become, + In fell remorseless avarice. + Have we a remedy at Rome? + I'll tell you here how matters go. + Hath one no present to bestow, + No purple for a judge or so, + The laws for him are deaf and dumb; + Their minister has aye in store + A thousand hindrances or more. + I'm sensible that truths like these + Are not the things to please. + I've done. Let death avenge you here + Of my complaint, a little too sincere.' + + He said no more; but all admired + The thought with which his speech was fired; + The eloquence and heart of oak + With which the prostrate savage spoke. + Indeed, so much were all delighted, + As due revenge, the man was knighted. + The praetors were at once displaced, + And better men the office graced. + The senate, also, by decree, + Besought a copy of the speech, + Which might to future speakers be + A model for the use of each. + Not long, howe'er, had Rome the sense + To entertain such eloquence. + +[11] La Fontaine got the historical story embodied in this fable from + Marcus Aurelius (as he acknowledges), probably through Francois + Cassandre's "Paralleles Historiques," 1676, and the translation + (from the Spanish of Guevara) titled the "Horloge des Princes," + which Grise and De Heberay published at Lyons in 1575. +[12] Aesop and Socrates are usually represented as very ugly. + + + + +VIII.--THE OLD MAN AND THE THREE YOUNG ONES.[13] + + A man was planting at fourscore. + Three striplings, who their satchels wore, + 'In building,' cried, 'the sense were more; + But then to plant young trees at that age! + The man is surely in his dotage. + Pray, in the name of common sense, + What fruit can he expect to gather + Of all this labour and expense? + Why, he must live like Lamech's father! + What use for thee, grey-headed man, + To load the remnant of thy span + With care for days that never can be thine? + Thyself to thought of errors past resign. + Long-growing hope, and lofty plan, + Leave thou to us, to whom such things belong.' + 'To you!' replied the old man, hale and strong; + 'I dare pronounce you altogether wrong. + The settled part of man's estate + Is very brief, and comes full late. + To those pale, gaming sisters trine, + Your lives are stakes as well as mine. + While so uncertain is the sequel, + Our terms of future life are equal; + For none can tell who last shall close his eyes + Upon the glories of these azure skies; + Nor any moment give us, ere it flies, + Assurance that another such shall rise, + But my descendants, whosoe'er they be, + Shall owe these cooling fruits and shades to me. + Do you acquit yourselves, in wisdom's sight, + From ministering to other hearts delight? + Why, boys, this is the fruit I gather now; + And sweeter never blush'd on bended bough. + Of this, to-morrow, I may take my fill; + Indeed, I may enjoy its sweetness till + I see full many mornings chase the glooms + From off the marble of your youthful tombs.' + The grey-beard man was right. One of the three, + Embarking, foreign lands to see, + Was drown'd within the very port. + In quest of dignity at court, + Another met his country's foe, + And perish'd by a random blow. + The third was kill'd by falling from a tree + Which he himself would graft. The three + Were mourn'd by him of hoary head, + Who chisel'd on each monument-- + On doing good intent-- + The things which we have said. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE MICE AND THE OWL. + + Beware of saying, 'Lend an ear,' + To something marvellous or witty. + To disappoint your friends who hear, + Is possible, and were a pity. + But now a clear exception see, + Which I maintain a prodigy-- + A thing which with the air of fable, + Is true as is the interest-table. + A pine was by a woodman fell'd, + Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree + An owl had for his palace held-- + A bird the Fates[14] had kept in fee, + Interpreter to such as we. + Within the caverns of the pine, + With other tenants of that mine, + Were found full many footless mice, + But well provision'd, fat, and nice. + The bird had bit off all their feet, + And fed them there with heaps of wheat. + That this owl reason'd, who can doubt? + When to the chase he first went out, + And home alive the vermin brought, + Which in his talons he had caught, + The nimble creatures ran away. + Next time, resolved to make them stay, + He cropp'd their legs, and found, with pleasure, + That he could eat them at his leisure; + It were impossible to eat + Them all at once, did health permit. + His foresight, equal to our own, + In furnishing their food was shown. + Now, let Cartesians, if they can, + Pronounce this owl a mere machine. + Could springs originate the plan + Of maiming mice when taken lean, + To fatten for his soup-tureen? + If reason did no service there, + I do not know it anywhere. + Observe the course of argument: + These vermin are no sooner caught than gone: + They must be used as soon, 'tis evident; + But this to all cannot be done. + And then, for future need, + I might as well take heed. + Hence, while their ribs I lard, + I must from their elopement guard. + But how?--A plan complete!-- + I'll clip them of their feet! + Now, find me, in your human schools, + A better use of logic's tools! + Upon your faith, what different art of thought + Has Aristotle or his followers taught?[15] + +[14] _A bird the Fates_, &c.--The owl was the bird of Atropos, the + most terrible of the Fates, to whom was entrusted the task of + cutting the thread of life. +[15] La Fontaine, in a note, asserts that the subject of this fable, + however marvellous, was a fact which was actually observed. His + commentators, however, think the observers must have been in some + measure mistaken, and I agree with them.--Translator. In Fable I., + Book X., La Fontaine also argues that brutes have reasoning + faculties. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + 'Tis thus, by crystal fount, my muse hath sung, + Translating into heavenly tongue + Whatever came within my reach, + From hosts of beings borr'wing nature's speech. + Interpreter of tribes diverse, + I've made them actors on my motley stage; + For in this boundless universe + There's none that talketh, simpleton or sage, + More eloquent at home than in my verse. + If some should find themselves by me the worse, + And this my work prove not a model true, + To that which I at least rough-hew, + Succeeding hands will give the finish due. + Ye pets of those sweet sisters nine, + Complete the task that I resign; + The lessons give, which doubtless I've omitted, + With wings by these inventions nicely fitted! + But you're already more than occupied; + For while my muse her harmless work hath plied, + All Europe to our sovereign yields,[16] + And learns, upon her battle-fields, + To bow before the noblest plan + That ever monarch form'd, or man. + Thence draw those sisters themes sublime, + With power to conquer Fate and Time.[17] + +[16] _All Europe to our sovereign yields_.--An allusion to the + conclusion of the peace of Nimeguen by Louis XIV., in 1678. Louis to + some extent negotiated the treaty of this peace in person, and + having bought the support of the English king, Charles II. (as shown + in the note to Fable XVIII., Book VII.) the terms of the treaty were + almost his own. The glory of the achievement procured for Louis the + surname of "le Grand." The king's praises upon this account are + further sounded by La Fontaine in Fable X., Book XII. + +[17] With the Epilogue to the XIth Book La Fontaine concluded his issue + of Fables up to 1678-9. The XIIth and last Book was not added till + 1694, the year before the poet's death. See Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK XII. + + +I.--THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES. + +To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.[1] + + Dear prince, a special favourite of the skies, + Pray let my incense from your altars rise. + With these her gifts, if rather late my muse, + My age and labours must her fault excuse. + My spirit wanes, while yours beams on the sight + At every moment with augmented light: + It does not go--it runs,--it seems to fly; + And he from whom it draws its traits so high, + In war a hero,[2] burns to do the same. + No lack of his that, with victorious force, + His giant strides mark not his glory's course: + Some god retains: our sovereign I might name; + Himself no less than conqueror divine, + Whom one short month made master of the Rhine. + It needed then upon the foe to dash; + Perhaps, to-day, such generalship were rash. + But hush,--they say the Loves and Smiles + Abhor a speech spun out in miles; + And of such deities your court + Is constantly composed, in short. + Not but that other gods, as meet, + There hold the highest seat: + For, free and lawless as the rest may seem, + Good Sense and Reason bear a sway supreme. + Consult these last about the case + Of certain men of Grecian race, + Who, most unwise and indiscreet, + Imbibed such draughts of poison sweet, + As changed their form, and brutified. + Ten years the heroes at Ulysses' side + Had been the sport of wind and tide. + At last those powers of water + The sea-worn wanderers bore + To that enchanted shore + Where Circe reign'd, Apollo's daughter. + She press'd upon their thirsty lips + Delicious drink, but full of bane: + Their reason, at the first light sips, + Laid down the sceptre of its reign. + Then took their forms and features + The lineaments of various creatures. + To bears and lions some did pass, + Or elephants of ponderous mass; + While not a few, I ween, + In smaller forms were seen,-- + In such, for instance, as the mole. + Of all, the sage Ulysses sole + Had wit to shun that treacherous bowl. + With wisdom and heroic mien, + And fine address, he caused the queen + To swallow, on her wizard throne, + A poison somewhat like her own. + A goddess, she to speak her wishes dared, + And hence, at once, her love declared. + Ulysses, truly too judicious + To lose a moment so propitious, + Besought that Circe would restore + His Greeks the shapes that first they wore. + Replied the nymph, 'But will they take them back? + Go make the proffer to the motley pack.' + Ulysses ran, both glad and sure: + 'That poisonous cup,' cried he 'hath yet its cure; + And here I bring what ends your shame and pain. + Will you, dear friends, be men again? + Pray speak, for speech is now restored.' + 'No,' said the lion,--and he roar'd,-- + 'My head is not so void of brains! + Renounce shall I my royal gains? + I've claws and teeth to tear my foes to bits, + And, more than that, I'm king. + Am I such gifts away to fling, + To be but one of Ithaca's mere cits? + In rank and file perhaps I might bear arms. + In such a change I see no charms.'-- + Ulysses passes to the bear:-- + 'How changed, my friend, from what you were! + How sightly once! how ugly now!' + 'Humph! truly how?' + Growl'd Bruin in his way-- + 'How else than as a bear should be, I pray? + Who taught your stilted highness to prefer + One form to every other, sir? + Doth yours possess peculiar powers + The merits to decide, of ours? + With all respect, I shall appeal my case + To some sweet beauty of the bearish race. + Please pass it by, if you dislike my face. + I live content, and free from care; + And, well remembering what we were, + I say it, plain and flat, + I'll change to no such state as that.' + Next to the wolf the princely Greek + With flattering hope began to speak:-- + 'Comrade, I blush, I must confess, + To hear a gentle shepherdess + Complaining to the echoing rocks + Of that outrageous appetite + Which drives you, night by night, + To prey upon her flocks. + You had been proud to guard her fold + In your more honest life of old. + Pray quit this wolfship, now you can, + And leave the woods an honest man.' + 'But is there one?' the wolf replied: + 'Such man, I own, I never spied. + You treat me as a ravenous beast, + But what are you? To say the least, + You would yourself have eat the sheep, + Which, eat by me, the village weep. + Now, truly, on your faith confess, + Should I, as man, love flesh the less? + Why, man, not seldom, kills his very brother; + What, then, are you but wolves to one another? + Now, everything with care to scan, + And rogue with rogue to rate, + I'd better be a wolf than man, + And need not change my state.' + Thus all did wise Ulysses try, + And got from all the same reply, + As well from great as small. + Wild liberty was dear to all; + To follow lawless appetite + They counted their supreme delight. + All banish'd from their thought and care + The glorious praise of actions fair. + Where passion led, they thought their course was free; + Self-bound, their chains they could not see. + + Prince, I had wish'd for you a theme to choose, + Where I might mingle pleasantry with use; + And I should meet with your approving voice, + No doubt, if I could make such choice. + At last, Ulysses' crew + Were offer'd to my view. + And there are like them not a few, + Who may for penalty await + Your censure and your hate.[3] + +[1] _Duke de Bourgogne_.--Louis Duke de Bourgogne (Burgundy), grandson + of Louis XIV. He was the son of Louis de Bourbon, the Dauphin, to + whom La Fontaine had dedicated the first collection of his Fables. + (See note, Dedication of Book I.) He was born in 1682, and at the + time of this dedication was about twelve years of age, and the pupil + of Fenelon. See Translator's Preface. +[2] _In war a hero_.--Louis, the Dauphin, father of the prince + addressed. The Dauphin was then in command of the army in Germany. +[3] This fable was first printed in the _Mercure Galant_, December, + 1690, where it had a few additional lines, which the author cut out + on republication in his XIIth Book. + + + + +II.--THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.[4] + +To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne. + + Contemporary with a sparrow tame + There lived a cat; from tenderest age, + Of both, the basket and the cage + Had household gods the same. + The bird's sharp beak full oft provoked the cat, + Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, + His wee friend sparing with a merry laugh, + Not punishing his faults by half. + In short, he scrupled much the harm, + Should he with points his ferule arm. + The sparrow, less discreet than he, + With dagger beak made very free. + Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, + Excused the warmth with which he play'd: + For 'tis full half of friendship's art + To take no joke in serious part. + Familiar since they saw the light, + Mere habit kept their friendship good; + Fair play had never turn'd to fight, + Till, of their neighbourhood, + Another sparrow came to greet + Old Ratto grave and saucy Pete. + Between the birds a quarrel rose, + And Ratto took his side. + 'A pretty stranger, with such blows + To beat our friend!' he cried. + 'A neighbour's sparrow eating ours! + Not so, by all the feline powers.' + And quick the stranger he devours. + 'Now, truly,' saith Sir Cat, + I know how sparrows taste by that. + Exquisite, tender, delicate!' + This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.-- + But hence what moral can I bring? + For, lacking that important thing, + A fable lacks its finishing: + I seem to see of one some trace, + But still its shadow mocks my chase. + Yours, prince, it will not thus abuse: + For you such sports, and not my muse. + In wit, she and her sisters eight + Would fail to match you with a mate. + +[4] The story of this fable seems to come from a fable by Furetiere, + titled "The Dog and the Cat." Antony Furetiere was more famous as a + lexicographer, and through his angry contention with the French + Academy on the subject of his Dictionary, than as a poet. He lived + between 1620 and 1688. + + + + +III.--THE MISER AND THE MONKEY.[5] + + A man amass'd. The thing, we know, + Doth often to a frenzy grow. + No thought had he but of his minted gold-- + Stuff void of worth when unemploy'd, I hold. + Now, that this treasure might the safer be, + Our miser's dwelling had the sea + As guard on every side from every thief. + With pleasure, very small in my belief, + But very great in his, he there + Upon his hoard bestow'd his care. + No respite came of everlasting + Recounting, calculating, casting; + For some mistake would always come + To mar and spoil the total sum. + A monkey there, of goodly size,-- + And than his lord, I think, more wise,-- + Some doubloons from the window threw, + And render'd thus the count untrue. + The padlock'd room permitted + Its owner, when he quitted, + To leave his money on the table. + One day, bethought this monkey wise + To make the whole a sacrifice + To Neptune on his throne unstable. + I could not well award the prize + Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure + Derived from that devoted treasure. + With some, Don Bertrand, would the honour gain, + For reasons it were tedious to explain. + One day, then, left alone, + That animal, to mischief prone, + Coin after coin detach'd, + A gold jacobus snatch'd, + Or Portuguese doubloon, + Or silver ducatoon, + Or noble, of the English rose, + And flung with all his might + Those discs, which oft excite + The strongest wishes mortal ever knows. + Had he not heard, at last, + The turning of his master's key, + The money all had pass'd + The same short road to sea; + And not a single coin but had been pitch'd + Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd. + + Now, God preserve full many a financier + Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here! + +[5] The story is traced to the episode in Tristan L'Hermite's romance + titled "Le Page disgracie," treating of "The Monkey and Master + Robert." L'Hermite lived 1601-1655. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO GOATS.[6] + + Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, + To follow fortune they've aspired. + To pasturage they're wont to roam + Where men are least disposed to come. + If any pathless place there be, + Or cliff, or pendent precipice, + 'Tis there they cut their capers free: + There's nought can stop these dames, I wis. + Two goats, thus self-emancipated,-- + The white that on their feet they wore + Look'd back to noble blood of yore,-- + Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, + And sought the hills, as it would seem: + In search of luck, by luck they met + Each other at a mountain stream. + As bridge a narrow plank was set, + On which, if truth must be confest, + Two weasels scarce could go abreast. + And then the torrent, foaming white, + As down it tumbled from the height, + Might well those Amazons affright. + But maugre such a fearful rapid, + Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid! + I seem to see our Louis Grand[7] + And Philip IV. advance + To the Isle of Conference,[8] + That lies 'twixt Spain and France, + Each sturdy for his glorious land. + Thus each of our adventurers goes, + Till foot to foot, and nose to nose, + Somewhere about the midst they meet, + And neither will an inch retreat. + For why? they both enjoy'd the glory + Of ancestors in ancient story. + The one, a goat of peerless rank, + Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, + The Cyclop gave to Galataea;[9] + The other famous Amalthaea,[10] + The goat that suckled Jupiter, + As some historians aver. + For want of giving back, in troth, + A common fall involved them both.-- + A common accident, no doubt, + On Fortune's changeful route.[11] + +[6] This and several others of the fables in the XIIth Book are taken + from the "Themes" of the Duke de Bourgogne, afterwards published + in Robert's "Fables Inedites." These "Themes," were the joint + composition of Fenelon, his pupil the infant Duke de Bourgogne, and + La Fontaine, and were first used in the education of the Duke. + Fenelon suggested the story, the pupil put it into prose, and La + Fontaine versified it. La Fontaine is eulogistic of the young Duke's + "wit" in putting these "Themes" into prose in Fable IX., Book XII. +[7] _Louis Grand_.--Louis XIV. See note to Epilogue of Book XI. +[8] _The Isle of Conference_.--The Pheasants' Isle in the river + Bidassoa, which separates France and Spain. It is called the Isle of + Conference on account of several of the Conferences, leading to + Treaties, &c., between the two countries, having been held there. +[9] _The Cyclop gave to Galataea_.--Polyphemus and Galataea: + _vide_ Theocritus, _Idyl_ XI. +[10] _Amalthaea_.--Another story is that Amalthaea was not a goat, + but a nymph of Crete, who fed the infant Jupiter with goat's milk. +[11] In the original the last lines differ from those in the version of + La Fontaine's "Oeuvres Posthumes," published in 1696, the year after + the poet's death. Indeed, variations of text are common to most of + the fables of the XIIth Book, on making the same comparison, viz., + of the first edition, 1694, and the edition in the "Oeuvres + Posthumes." + + + + +V.--THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE. + +To Monseigneur, The Duke De Bourgogne; Who Had Requested Of M. De La +Fontaine A Fable Which Should Be Called "The Cat And The Mouse." + + To please a youthful prince, whom Fame + A temple in my writings vows, + What fable answers to the name, + "The Cat and Mouse?" + Shall I in verse the fair present, + With softest look but hard intent, + Who serves the hearts her charms entice + As does the cat its captive mice? + Or make my subject Fortune's sport? + She treats the friends that make her court, + And follow closest her advice, + As treats the cat the silly mice. + + Shall I for theme a king select + Who sole, of all her favourites, + Commands the goddess's respect? + For whom she from her wheel alights. + Who, never stay'd by foes a trice, + Whene'er they block his way, + Can with the strongest play + As doth the cat with mice! + Insensibly, while casting thus about, + Quite anxious for my subject's sake, + A theme I meet, and, if I don't mistake, + Shall spoil it, too, by spinning out. + The prince will treat my muse, for that, + As mice are treated by the cat. + + A young and inexperienced mouse + Had faith to try a veteran cat,[12]-- + Raminagrobis, death to rat, + And scourge of vermin through the house,-- + Appealing to his clemency + With reasons sound and fair. + 'Pray let me live; a mouse like me + It were not much to spare. + Am I, in such a family, + A burden? Would my largest wish + Our wealthy host impoverish? + A grain of wheat will make my meal; + A nut will fat me like a seal. + I'm lean at present; please to wait, + And for your heirs reserve my fate.' + The captive mouse thus spake. + Replied the captor, 'You mistake; + To me shall such a thing be said? + Address the deaf! address the dead! + A cat to pardon!--old one too! + Why, such a thing I never knew. + Thou victim of my paw, + By well-establish'd law, + Die as a mousling should, + And beg the sisterhood + Who ply the thread and shears, + To lend thy speech their ears. + Some other like repast + My heirs may find, or fast.' + He ceased. The moral's plain. + Youth always hopes its ends to gain, + Believes all spirits like its own: + Old age is not to mercy prone. + +[12] The story is from Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE SICK STAG.[13] + + A stag, where stags abounded, + Fell sick, and was surrounded + Forthwith by comrades kind, + All pressing to assist, + Or see, their friend, at least, + And ease his anxious mind-- + An irksome multitude. + 'Ah, sirs!' the sick was fain to cry, + 'Pray leave me here to die, + As others do, in solitude. + Pray, let your kind attentions cease, + Till death my spirit shall release.' + But comforters are not so sent: + On duty sad full long intent, + When Heaven pleased, they went: + But not without a friendly glass; + That is to say, they cropp'd the grass + And leaves which in that quarter grew, + From which the sick his pittance drew. + By kindness thus compell'd to fast, + He died for want of food at last. + The men take off no trifling dole + Who heal the body, or the soul. + Alas the times! do what we will, + They have their payment, cure or kill. + +[13] "The Gazelle" in Lokman's Fables. + + + + +VII.--THE BAT, THE BUSH, AND THE DUCK.[14] + + A bush, duck, and bat, having found that in trade, + Confined to their country, small profits were made, + Into partnership enter'd to traffic abroad, + Their purse, held in common, well guarded from fraud. + Their factors and agents, these trading allies + Employ'd where they needed, as cautious as wise: + Their journals and ledgers, exact and discreet, + Recorded by items expense and receipt. + All throve, till an argosy, on its way home, + With a cargo worth more than their capital sum, + In attempting to pass through a dangerous strait, + Went down with its passengers, sailors, and freight, + To enrich those enormous and miserly stores, + From Tartarus distant but very few doors. + Regret was a thing which the firm could but feel; + Regret was the thing they were slow to reveal; + For the least of a merchant well knows that the weal + Of his credit requires him his loss to conceal. + But that which our trio unluckily suffer'd + Allow'd no repair, and of course was discover'd. + No money nor credit, 'twas plain to be seen + Their heads were now threaten'd with bonnets of green;[15] + And, the facts of the case being everywhere known, + No mortal would open his purse with a loan. + Debts, bailiffs, and lawsuits, and creditors gruff, + At the crack of day knocking, + (Importunity shocking!) + Our trio kept busy enough. + The bush, ever ready and on the alert, + Now caught all the people it could by the skirt:-- + 'Pray, sir, be so good as to tell, if you please, + If you know whereabout the old villanous seas + Have hid all our goods which they stole t' other night. + The diver, to seek them, went down out of sight. + The bat didn't venture abroad in the day, + And thus of the bailiffs kept out of the way. + + Full many insolvents, not bats, to hide so, + Nor bushes, nor divers, I happen to know, + But even grand seigniors, quite free from all cares, + By virtue of brass, and of private backstairs. + +[14] Aesop. +[15] _With bonnets of green._--Such as insolvent debtors were anciently + required to wear, in France, after making cession of their effects, + in order to escape imprisonment.--Translator. The custom also + prevailed in Italy. + + + + +VIII.--THE QUARREL OF THE DOGS AND CATS, AND THAT OF THE CATS AND MICE. + + Enthroned by an eternal law, + Hath Discord reign'd throughout the universe. + In proof, I might from this our planet draw + A thousand instances diverse. + Within the circle of our view, + This queen hath subjects not a few. + Beginning with the elements, + It is astonishing to see + How they have stood, to all intents, + As wrestlers from eternity. + Besides these four great potentates, + Old stubborn earth, fire, flood, and air, + How many other smaller states + Are waging everlasting war! + In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, + Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes; + Decrees, promulged in manner solemn, + Had pacified their ancient feuds. + Their lord had so arranged their meals and labours, + And threaten'd quarrels with the whip, + That, living in sweet cousinship, + They edified their wondering neighbours. + At last, some dainty plate to lick, + Or profitable bone to pick, + Bestow'd by some partiality, + Broke up the smooth equality. + The side neglected were indignant + At such a slight malignant. + Some writers make the whole dispute begin + With favours to a bitch while lying in. + Whate'er the cause, the altercation + Soon grew a perfect conflagration. + In hall and kitchen, dog and cat + Took sides with zeal for this or that. + New rules upon the cat side falling + Produced tremendous caterwauling. + Their advocate, against such rules as these, + Advised recurrence to the old decrees. + They search'd in vain, for, hidden in a nook, + The thievish mice had eaten up the book. + Another quarrel, in a trice, + Made many sufferers with the mice; + For many a veteran whisker'd-face, + With craft and cunning richly stored, + And grudges old against the race, + Now watch'd to put them to the sword; + Nor mourn'd for this that mansion's lord. + + Resuming our discourse, we see + No creature from opponents free. + 'Tis nature's law for earth and sky; + 'Twere vain to ask the reason why; + God's works are good,--I cannot doubt it,-- + And that is all I know about it. + I know, however, that the cause + Which hath our human quarrels brought, + Three quarters of the time, is nought + That will be, is, or ever was. + Ye veterans, in state and church, + At threescore years, indeed, + It seems there still is need + To give you lessons with the birch! + + + + +IX.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX. + + Whence comes it that there liveth not + A man contented with his lot? + Here's one who would a soldier be, + Whom soldiers all with envy see. + + A fox to be a wolf once sigh'd. + With disappointments mortified, + Who knows but that, his wolfship cheap, + The wolf himself would be a sheep? + + I marvel that a prince[16] is able, + At eight, to put the thing in fable; + While I, beneath my seventy snows, + Forge out, with toil and time, + The same in labour'd rhyme, + Less striking than his prose. + + The traits which in his work we meet, + A poet, it must be confess'd, + Could not have half so well express'd: + He bears the palm as more complete. + 'Tis mine to sing it to the pipe; + But I expect that when the sands + Of Time have made my hero ripe, + He'll put a trumpet in my hands. + + My mind but little doth aspire + To prophecy; but yet it reads + On high, that soon his glorious deeds + Full many Homers will require-- + Of which this age produces few. + But, bidding mysteries adieu, + I try my powers upon this fable new. + + 'Dear wolf,' complain'd a hungry fox, + 'A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, + Is all I get by toil or trick: + Of such a living I am sick. + With far less risk, you've better cheer; + A house you need not venture near, + But I must do it, spite of fear. + Pray, make me master of your trade. + And let me by that means be made + The first of all my race that took + Fat mutton to his larder's hook: + Your kindness shall not be repented.' + The wolf quite readily consented. + 'I have a brother, lately dead: + Go fit his skin to yours,' he said. + 'Twas done; and then the wolf proceeded: + 'Now mark you well what must be done, + The dogs that guard the flock to shun.' + The fox the lessons strictly heeded. + At first he boggled in his dress; + But awkwardness grew less and less, + Till perseverance gave success. + His education scarce complete, + A flock, his scholarship to greet, + Came rambling out that way. + The new-made wolf his work began, + Amidst the heedless nibblers ran, + And spread a sore dismay. + Such terror did Patroclus[17] spread, + When on the Trojan camp and town, + Clad in Achilles' armour dread, + He valiantly came down. + The matrons, maids, and aged men + All hurried to the temples then.-- + The bleating host now surely thought + That fifty wolves were on the spot: + Dog, shepherd, sheep, all homeward fled, + And left a single sheep in pawn, + Which Renard seized when they were gone. + But, ere upon his prize he fed, + There crow'd a cock near by, and down + The scholar threw his prey and gown, + That he might run that way the faster-- + Forgetting lessons, prize and master. + How useless is the art of seeming! + Reality, in every station, + Is through its cloak at all times gleaming, + And bursting out on fit occasion. + + Young prince, to your unrivall'd wit + My muse gives credit, as is fit, + For what she here hath labour'd with-- + The subject, characters, and pith. + +[16] A prince.--The infant Duke de Bourgogne. See Note to Table IV., Book + XII. The context shows that La Fontaine was over seventy when this + fable was written. +[17] _Patroclus_.--In the Trojan war, when Achilles, on his difference + with Agamemnon, remained inactive in his tent, Patroclus, his + friend, put on Achilles' "armour dread," and so caused dire alarm to + the Trojans, who thought that Achilles had at last taken the field. + + + + +X.--THE LOBSTER AND HER DAUGHTER.[18] + + The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, + To gain their ends back foremost go. + It is the rower's art; and those + Commanders who mislead their foes, + Do often seem to aim their sight + Just where they don't intend to smite. + My theme, so low, may yet apply + To one whose fame is very high, + Who finds it not the hardest matter + A hundred-headed league to scatter. + What he will do, what leave undone, + Are secrets with unbroken seals, + Till victory the truth reveals. + Whatever he would have unknown + Is sought in vain. Decrees of Fate + Forbid to check, at first, the course + Which sweeps at last with torrent force. + One Jove, as ancient fables state, + Exceeds a hundred gods in weight. + So Fate and Louis[19] would seem able + The universe to draw, + Bound captive to their law.-- + But come we to our fable. + A mother lobster did her daughter chide: + 'For shame, my daughter! can't you go ahead?' + 'And how go you yourself?' the child replied; + 'Can I be but by your example led? + Head foremost should I, singularly, wend, + While all my race pursue the other end.' + She spoke with sense: for better or for worse, + Example has a universal force. + To some it opens wisdom's door, + But leads to folly many more. + Yet, as for backing to one's aim, + When properly pursued + The art is doubtless good, + At least in grim Bellona's game. + +[18] Aesop; also in Avianus. +[19] _Louis_.--Louis XIV. + + + + +XI.--THE EAGLE AND THE MAGPIE.[20] + + The eagle, through the air a queen, + And one far different, I ween, + In temper, language, thought, and mien,-- + The magpie,--once a prairie cross'd. + The by-path where they met was drear, + And Madge gave up herself for lost; + But having dined on ample cheer, + The eagle bade her, 'Never fear; + You're welcome to my company; + For if the king of gods can be + Full oft in need of recreation,-- + Who rules the world,--right well may I, + Who serve him in that high relation: + Amuse me, then, before you fly.' + Our cackler, pleased, at quickest rate + Of this and that began to prate. + Not he of whom old Flaccus writes, + The most impertinent of wights, + Or any babbler, for that matter, + Could more incontinently chatter. + At last she offer'd to make known-- + A better spy had never flown-- + All things, whatever she might see, + In travelling from tree to tree. + But, with her offer little pleased-- + Nay, gathering wrath at being teased,-- + For such a purpose, never rove,-- + Replied th' impatient bird of Jove. + 'Adieu, my cackling friend, adieu; + My court is not the place for you: + Heaven keep it free from such a bore!' + Madge flapp'd her wings, and said no more. + + 'Tis far less easy than it seems + An entrance to the great to gain. + The honour oft hath cost extremes + Of mortal pain. + The craft of spies, the tattling art, + And looks more gracious than the heart, + Are odious there; + But still, if one would meet success, + Of different parishes the dress + He, like the pie, must wear. + +[20] Abstemius. + + + + +XII.--THE KING, THE KITE, AND THE FALCONER.[21] + +To His August Highness, Monseigneur The Prince De Conti.[22] + + The gods, for that themselves are good, + The like in mortal monarchs would. + The prime of royal rights is grace; + To this e'en sweet revenge gives place. + So thinks your highness,--while your wrath + Its cradle for its coffin hath. + Achilles no such conquest knew-- + In this a hero less than you. + That name indeed belongs to none, + Save those who have, beneath the sun, + Their hundred generous actions done. + The golden age produced such powers, + But truly few this age of ours. + The men who now the topmost sit, + Are thank'd for crimes which they omit. + For you, unharm'd by such examples, + A thousand noble deeds are winning temples, + Wherein Apollo, by the altar-fire, + Shall strike your name upon his golden lyre. + The gods await you in their azure dome; + One age must serve for this your lower home. + One age entire with you would Hymen dwell:[23] + O that his sweetest spell + For you a destiny may bind + By such a period scarce confined! + The princess and yourself no less deserve. + Her charms as witnesses shall serve; + As witnesses, those talents high + Pour'd on you by the lavish sky, + Outshining all pretence of peers + Throughout your youthful years. + A Bourbon seasons grace with wit: + To that which gains esteem, in mixture fit, + He adds a portion from, above, + Wherewith to waken love. + To paint your joy--my task is less sublime: + I therefore turn aside to rhyme + What did a certain bird of prey. + + A kite, possessor of a nest antique, + Was caught alive one day. + It was the captor's freak + That this so rare a bird + Should on his sovereign be conferr'd. + The kite, presented by the man of chase, + With due respect, before the monarch's face, + If our account is true, + Immediately flew + And perch'd upon the royal nose. + What! on the nose of majesty? + Ay, on the consecrated nose did he! + Had not the king his sceptre and his crown? + Why, if he had, or had not, 'twere all one: + The royal nose, as if it graced a clown, + Was seized. The things by courtiers done, + And said, and shriek'd, 'twere hopeless to relate. + The king in silence sate: + An outcry, from a sovereign king, + Were quite an unbecoming thing. + The bird retain'd the post where he had fasten'd; + No cries nor efforts his departure hasten'd. + His master call'd, as in an agony of pain, + Presented lure and fist, but all in vain. + It seem'd as if the cursed bird, + With instinct most absurd, + In spite of all the noise and blows, + Would roost upon that sacred nose! + The urging off of courtiers, pages, master, + But roused his will to cling the faster. + At last he quit, as thus the monarch spoke: + 'Give egress hence, imprimis, to this kite, + And, next, to him who aim'd at our delight. + From each his office we revoke. + The one as kite we now discharge; + The other, as a forester at large. + As in our station it is fit, + We do all punishment remit.' + The court admired. The courtiers praised the deed, + In which themselves did but so ill succeed.-- + Few kings had taken such a course. + The fowler might have fared far worse; + His only crime, as of his kite, + Consisted in his want of light, + About the danger there might be + In coming near to royalty. + Forsooth, their scope had wholly been + Within the woods. Was that a sin?-- + By Pilpay this remarkable affair + Is placed beside the Ganges' flood. + No human creature ventures, there, + To shed of animals the blood: + The deed not even royalty would dare. + 'Know we,' they say,--both lord and liege,-- + 'This bird saw not the Trojan siege? + Perhaps a hero's part he bore, + And there the highest helmet wore. + What once he was, he yet may be. + Taught by Pythagoras are we, + That we our forms with animals exchange; + We're kites or pigeons for a while, + Then biped plodders on the soil; + And then + As volatile, again + The liquid air we range.--' + Now since two versions of this tale exist, + I'll give the other if you list. + A certain falconer had caught + A kite, and for his sovereign thought + The bird a present rich and rare. + It may be once a century + Such game is taken from the air; + For 'tis the pink of falconry. + The captor pierced the courtier crowd, + With zeal and sweat, as if for life; + Of such a princely present proud, + His hopes of fortune sprang full rife; + When, slap, the savage made him feel + His talons, newly arm'd with steel, + By perching on his nasal member, + As if it had been senseless timber. + Outshriek'd the wight; but peals of laughter, + Which threaten'd ceiling, roof, and rafter, + From courtier, page, and monarch broke: + Who had not laugh'd at such a joke? + From me, so prone am I to such a sin, + An empire had not held me in. + I dare not say, that, had the pope been there, + He would have join'd the laugh sonorous; + But sad the king, I hold, who should not dare + To lead, for such a cause, in such a chorus. + The gods are laughers. Spite of ebon brows, + Jove joints the laugh which he allows. + As history saith, the thunderer's laugh went up + When limping Vulcan served the nectar cup. + Whether or not immortals here are wise, + Good sense, I think, in my digression lies. + For, since the moral's what we have in view, + What could the falconer's fate have taught us new? + Who does not notice, in the course of things, + More foolish falconers than indulgent kings? + +[21] Bidpaii. +[22] _Prince de Conti_.--This was Francis-Louis, Prince de la + Roche-sur-Yon and de Conti, another of La Fontaine's great friends + at court. He was born in Paris, 1664, and died in 1709. +[23] _Would Hymen dwell_.--An allusion to the marriage of the Prince + with Marie-Theresa de Bourbon (Mdlle. de Blois, the daughter of the + King and La Valliere), which took place in 1688. + + + + +XIII.--THE FOX, THE FLIES, AND THE HEDGEHOG.[24] + + A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly,-- + By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud,-- + Attracted, by the traces of his blood, + That buzzing parasite, the fly. + He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why + The Fates so cruelly should wish + To feast the fly on such a costly dish. + 'What! light on me! make me its food! + Me, me, the nimblest of the wood! + How long has fox-meat been so good? + What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight? + Go,--Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate!-- + And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!' + A hedgehog, witnessing his pains, + (This fretful personage + Here graces first my page,) + Desired to set him free + From such cupidity. + 'My neighbour fox,' said he, + My quills these rascals shall empale, + And ease thy torments without fail.' + 'Not for the world, my friend!' the fox replied. + 'Pray let them finish their repast. + These flies are full. Should they be set aside, + New hungrier swarms would finish me at last.' + Consumers are too common here below, + In court and camp, in church and state, we know. + Old Aristotle's penetration + Remark'd our fable's application; + It might more clearly in our nation. + The fuller certain men are fed, + The less the public will be bled. + +[24] Aesop; also Philibert Hegemon, and others. + + + + +XIV.--LOVE AND FOLLY.[25] + + Love bears a world of mystery-- + His arrows, quiver, torch, and infancy: + 'Tis not a trifling work to sound + A sea of science so profound: + And, hence, t' explain it all to-day + Is not my aim; but, in my simple way, + To show how that blind archer lad + (And he a god!) came by the loss of sight, + And eke what consequence the evil had, + Or good, perhaps, if named aright-- + A point I leave the lover to decide, + As fittest judge, who hath the matter tried. + Together on a certain day, + Said Love and Folly were at play: + The former yet enjoy'd his eyes. + Dispute arose. Love thought it wise + Before the council of the gods to go, + Where both of them by birth held stations; + But Folly, in her lack of patience, + Dealt on his forehead such a blow + As seal'd his orbs to all the light of heaven. + Now Venus claim'd that vengeance should be given. + And by what force of tears yourselves may guess + The woman and the mother sought redress. + The gods were deafen'd with her cries-- + Jove, Nemesis, the stern assize + Of Orcus,--all the gods, in short, + From whom she might the boon extort. + The enormous wrong she well portray'd-- + Her son a wretched groper made, + An ugly staff his steps to aid! + For such a crime, it would appear, + No punishment could be severe: + The damage, too, must be repair'd. + The case maturely weigh'd and cast, + The public weal with private squared: + Poor Folly was condemn'd at last, + By judgment of the court above, + To serve for aye as guide to Love.[26] + +[25] It is thought that La Fontaine owed somewhat of his idea of this + fable to one of the poems of Louise Labbe, "the beautiful + ropemaker," as she was called, who lived between 1526 and 1566. +[26] This fable was first published in the collection of the "Works in + Prose, and Verse of the Sieurs Maucroix and La Fontaine," issued by + the joint authors in 1685. See, for M. de Maucroix, note to Fable + I., Book III. + + + + +XV.--THE RAVEN, THE GAZELLE, THE TORTOISE, AND THE RAT.[27] + +To Madame De La Sabliere.[28] + + A temple I reserved you in my rhyme: + It might not be completed but with time. + Already its endurance I had grounded + Upon this charming art, divinely founded; + And on the name of that divinity + For whom its adoration was to be. + These words I should have written o'er its gate-- + TO IRIS IS THIS PALACE CONSECRATE; + Not her who served the queen divine; + For Juno's self, and he who crown'd her bliss, + Had thought it for their dignity, I wis, + To bear the messages of mine. + Within the dome the apotheosis + Should greet th' enraptured sight-- + All heaven, in pomp and order meet, + Conducting Iris to her seat + Beneath a canopy of light! + The walls would amply serve to paint her life,-- + A matter sweet, indeed, but little rife + In those events, which, order'd by the Fates, + Cause birth, or change, or overthrow of states. + The innermost should hold her image,-- + Her features, smiles, attractions there,-- + Her art of pleasing without care,-- + Her loveliness, that's sure of homage. + Some mortals, kneeling at her feet,[29]-- + Earth's noblest heroes,--should be seen; + Ay, demigods, and even gods, I ween: + (The worshipp'd of the world thinks meet, + Sometimes her altar to perfume.) + Her eyes, so far as that might be, + Her soul's rich jewel should illume; + Alas! but how imperfectly! + For could a heart that throbb'd to bless + Its friends with boundless tenderness,-- + Or could that heaven-descended mind + Which, in its matchless beauty, join'd + The strength of man with woman's grace,-- + Be given to sculptor to express? + O Iris, who canst charm the soul-- + Nay, bind it with supreme control,-- + Whom as myself I can but love,-- + (Nay, not that word: as I'm a man, + Your court has placed it under ban, + And we'll dismiss it,) pray approve + My filling up this hasty plan! + This sketch has here received a place, + A simple anecdote to grace, + Where friendship shows so sweet a face, + That in its features you may find + Somewhat accordant to your mind. + Not that the tale may kings beseem; + But he who winneth your esteem + Is not a monarch placed above + The need and influence of love, + But simple mortal, void of crown, + That would for friends his life lay down-- + Than which I know no friendlier act. + Four animals, in league compact, + Are now to give our noble race + A useful lesson in the case. + + Rat, raven, tortoise, and gazelle, + Once into firmest friendship fell. + 'Twas in a home unknown to man + That they their happiness began. + But safe from man there's no retreat: + Pierce you the loneliest wood, + Or dive beneath the deepest flood, + Or mount you where the eagles brood,-- + His secret ambuscade you meet. + The light gazelle, in harmless play, + Amused herself abroad one day, + When, by mischance, her track was found + And follow'd by the baying hound-- + That barbarous tool of barbarous man-- + From which far, far away she ran. + At meal-time to the others + The rat observed,--'My brothers, + How happens it that we + Are met to-day but three? + Is Miss Gazelle so little steady? + Hath she forgotten us already?' + Out cried the tortoise at the word,-- + 'Were I, as Raven is, a bird, + I'd fly this instant from my seat, + And learn what accident, and where, + Hath kept away our sister fair,-- + Our sister of the flying feet; + For of her heart, dear rat, + It were a shame to doubt of that.' + The raven flew; + He spied afar,--the face he knew,-- + The poor gazelle entangled in a snare, + In anguish vainly floundering there. + Straight back he turn'd, and gave the alarm; + For to have ask'd the sufferer now, + The why and wherefore, when and how, + She had incurr'd so great a harm,-- + And lose in vain debate + The turning-point of fate, + As would the master of a school,-- + He was by no means such a fool.[30] + On tidings of so sad a pith, + The three their council held forthwith. + By two it was the vote + To hasten to the spot + Where lay the poor gazelle. + 'Our friend here in his shell, + I think, will do as well + To guard the house,' the raven said; + 'For, with his creeping pace, + When would he reach the place? + Not till the deer were dead.' + Eschewing more debate, + They flew to aid their mate, + That luckless mountain roe. + The tortoise, too, resolved to go. + Behold him plodding on behind, + And plainly cursing in his mind, + The fate that left his legs to lack, + And glued his dwelling to his back. + The snare was cut by Rongemail, + (For so the rat they rightly hail). + Conceive their joy yourself you may. + Just then the hunter came that way, + And, 'Who hath filch'd my prey?' + Cried he, upon the spot + Where now his prey was not.-- + A hole hid Rongemail; + A tree the bird as well; + The woods, the free gazelle. + The hunter, well nigh mad, + To find no inkling could be had, + Espied the tortoise in his path, + And straightway check'd his wrath. + 'Why let my courage flag, + Because my snare has chanced to miss? + I'll have a supper out of this.' + He said, and put it in his bag. + And it had paid the forfeit so, + Had not the raven told the roe, + Who from her covert came, + Pretending to be lame. + The man, right eager to pursue, + Aside his wallet threw, + Which Rongemail took care + To serve as he had done the snare; + Thus putting to an end + The hunter's supper on his friend. + 'Tis thus sage Pilpay's tale I follow. + Were I the ward of golden-hair'd Apollo, + It were, by favour of that god, easy-- + And surely for your sake-- + As long a tale to make + As is the Iliad or Odyssey. + Grey Rongemail the hero's part should play, + Though each would be as needful in his way. + He of the mansion portable awoke + Sir Raven by the words he spoke, + To act the spy, and then the swift express. + The light gazelle alone had had th' address + The hunter to engage, and furnish time + For Rongemail to do his deed sublime. + Thus each his part perform'd. Which wins the prize? + The heart, so far as in my judgment lies.[31] + +[27] Bidpaii. +[28] _Madame de la Sabliere_.--See note to Fable I., Book X.: also + Translator's Preface. +[29] _Some mortals kneeling at her feet_.--In allusion to the + distinguished company which assembled at the house of Madame de la + Sabliere. See notes on John Sobieski (King John III., of Poland), + &c., Fable I., Book X. +[30] _Such a fool_.--In allusion to Fable XIX., Book I. +[31] This fable was also first published in the "Works" of De Maucroix + and La Fontaine, 1685. The text of the later issue is slightly + abridged. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN.[32] + + A certain wood-chopper lost or broke + From his axe's eye a bit of oak. + The forest must needs be somewhat spared + While such a loss was being repair'd. + Came the man at last, and humbly pray'd + That the woods would kindly lend to him-- + A moderate loan--a single limb, + Whereof might another helve be made, + And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. + O, the oaks and firs that then might stand, + A pride and a joy throughout the land, + For their ancientness and glorious charms! + The innocent Forest lent him arms; + But bitter indeed was her regret; + For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, + Did nought but his benefactress spoil + Of the finest trees that graced her soil; + And ceaselessly was she made to groan, + Doing penance for that fatal loan. + + Behold the world-stage and its actors, + Where benefits hurt benefactors!-- + A weary theme, and full of pain; + For where's the shade so cool and sweet, + Protecting strangers from the heat, + But might of such a wrong complain? + Alas! I vex myself in vain; + Ingratitude, do what I will, + Is sure to be the fashion still. + +[32] First published in 1685, in the "Works" of De Maucroix and La + Fontaine; a statement applying also to several of the remaining + fables. + + + + +XVII.--THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HORSE.[33] + + A fox, though young, by no means raw, + Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw: + 'Ho! neighbour wolf,' said he to one quite green, + 'A creature in our meadow I have seen,-- + Sleek, grand! I seem to see him yet,-- + The finest beast I ever met.' + 'Is he a stouter one than we?' + The wolf demanded, eagerly; + 'Some picture of him let me see.' + 'If I could paint,' said fox, 'I should delight + T' anticipate your pleasure at the sight; + But come; who knows? perhaps it is a prey + By fortune offer'd in our way.' + They went. The horse, turn'd loose to graze, + Not liking much their looks or ways, + Was just about to gallop off. + 'Sir,' said the fox, 'your humble servants, we + Make bold to ask you what your name may be.' + The horse, an animal with brains enough, + Replied, 'Sirs, you yourselves may read my name; + My shoer round my heel hath writ the same.' + The fox excus'd himself for want of knowledge: + 'Me, sir, my parents did not educate,-- + So poor, a hole was their entire estate. + My friend, the wolf, however, taught at college, + Could read it were it even Greek.' + The wolf, to flattery weak, + Approach'd to verify the boast; + For which four teeth he lost. + The high raised hoof came down with such a blow, + As laid him bleeding on the ground full low. + 'My brother,' said the fox, 'this shows how just + What once was taught me by a fox of wit,-- + Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ,-- + "All unknown things the wise mistrust."' + +[33] Aesop. + + + + +XVIII.--THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS. + + Against a robber fox, a tree + Some turkeys served as citadel. + That villain, much provoked to see + Each standing there as sentinel, + Cried out, 'Such witless birds + At me stretch out their necks, and gobble! + No, by the powers! I'll give them trouble.' + He verified his words. + The moon, that shined full on the oak, + Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. + But fox, in arts of siege well versed, + Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. + He feign'd himself about to climb; + Walk'd on his hinder legs sublime; + Then death most aptly counterfeited, + And seem'd anon resuscitated. + A practiser of wizard arts + Could not have fill'd so many parts. + In moonlight he contrived to raise + His tail, and make it seem a blaze: + And countless other tricks like that. + Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. + Their constant vigilance at length, + As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. + Bewilder'd by the rigs he run, + They lost their balance one by one. + As Renard slew, he laid aside, + Till nearly half of them had died; + Then proudly to his larder bore, + And laid them up, an ample store. + + A foe, by being over-heeded, + Has often in his plan succeeded. + + + + +XIX.--THE APE. + + There is an ape in Paris, + To which was given a wife: + Like many a one that marries, + This ape, in brutal strife, + Soon beat her out of life. + Their infant cries,--perhaps not fed,-- + But cries, I ween, in vain; + The father laughs: his wife is dead, + And he has other loves again, + Which he will also beat, I think,-- + Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink. + + For aught that's good, you need not look + Among the imitative tribe; + A monkey be it, or what makes a book-- + The worse, I deem--the aping scribe. + + + + +XX.--THE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER. + + A Scythian philosopher austere, + Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer, + Perform'd the tour of Greece, saw many things, + But, best, a sage,--one such as Virgil sings,-- + A simple, rustic man, that equal'd kings; + From whom, the gods would hardly bear the palm; + Like them unawed, content, and calm. + His fortune was a little nook of land; + And there the Scythian found him, hook in hand, + His fruit-trees pruning. Here he cropp'd + A barren branch, there slash'd and lopp'd, + Correcting Nature everywhere, + Who paid with usury his care. + 'Pray, why this wasteful havoc, sir?'-- + So spoke the wondering traveller; + 'Can it, I ask, in reason's name, + Be wise these harmless trees to maim? + Fling down that instrument of crime, + And leave them to the scythe of Time. + Full soon, unhasten'd, they will go + To deck the banks of streams below.' + Replied the tranquil gardener, + 'I humbly crave your pardon, sir; + Excess is all my hook removes, + By which the rest more fruitful proves.' + The philosophic traveller,-- + Once more within his country cold,-- + Himself of pruning-hook laid hold, + And made a use most free and bold; + Prescribed to friends, and counsel'd neighbours + To imitate his pruning labours. + The finest limbs he did not spare, + But pruned his orchard past all reason, + Regarding neither time nor season, + Nor taking of the moon a care. + All wither'd, droop'd, and died. + + This Scythian I set beside + The indiscriminating Stoic. + The latter, with a blade heroic, + Retrenches, from his spirit sad, + Desires and passions, good and bad, + Not sparing e'en a harmless wish. + Against a tribe so Vandalish + With earnestness I here protest. + They maim our hearts, they stupefy + Their strongest springs, if not their best; + They make us cease to live before we die. + + + + +XXI.--THE ELEPHANT AND THE APE OF JUPITER. + + + 'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose + About precedence a dispute arose, + Which they determined to decide by blows. + The day was fix'd, when came a messenger + To say the ape of Jupiter + Was swiftly earthward seen to bear + His bright caduceus through the air. + This monkey, named in history Gill, + The elephant at once believed + A high commission had received + To witness, by his sovereign's will, + The aforesaid battle fought. + Uplifted by the glorious thought, + The beast was prompt on Monsieur Gill to wait, + But found him slow, in usual forms of state, + His high credentials to present. + The ape, however, ere he went, + Bestow'd a passing salutation. + His excellency would have heard + The subject matter of legation: + But not a word! + His fight, so far from stirring heaven,-- + The news was not received there, even! + What difference sees the impartial sky + Between an elephant and fly? + Our monarch, doting on his object, + Was forced himself to break the subject. + 'My cousin Jupiter,' said he, + 'Will shortly, from his throne supreme, + A most important combat see, + For all his court a thrilling theme.' + 'What combat?' said the ape, with serious face. + 'Is't possible you should not know the case?--' + The elephant exclaim'd--'not know, dear sir, + That Lord Rhinoceros disputes + With me precedence of the brutes? + That Elephantis is at war + With savage hosts of Rhinocer? + You know these realms, not void of fame?' + 'I joy to learn them now by name,' + Return'd Sir Gill, 'for, first or last, + No lisp of them has ever pass'd + Throughout our dome so blue and vast.' + Abash'd, the elephant replied, + 'What came you, then, to do?--' + 'Between two emmets to divide + A spire of grass in two. + We take of all a care; + And, as to your affair, + Before the gods, who view with equal eyes + The small and great, it hath not chanced to rise.' + + + + +XXII.--THE FOOL AND THE SAGE.[34] + + A fool pursued, with club and stone, + A sage, who said, 'My friend, well done! + Receive this guinea for your pains; + They well deserve far higher gains. + The workman's worthy of his hire, + 'Tis said. There comes a wealthy squire, + Who hath wherewith thy works to pay; + To him direct thy gifts, and they + Shall gain their proper recompense.' + Urged by the hope of gain, + Upon the wealthy citizen + The fool repeated the offence. + His pay this time was not in gold. + Upon the witless man + A score of ready footmen ran, + And on his back, in full, his wages told. + In courts, such fools afflict the wise; + They raise the laugh at your expense. + To check their babble, were it sense + Their folly meetly to chastise? + Perhaps 'twill take a stronger man. + Then make them worry one who can. + +[34] Phaedrus, III., 4; also _Aesop_. + + + + +XXIII.--THE ENGLISH FOX.[35] + +To Madame Harvey.[36] + + Sound reason and a tender heart + With thee are friends that never part. + A hundred traits might swell the roll;-- + Suffice to name thy nobleness of soul; + Thy power to guide both men and things; + Thy temper open, bland and free, + A gift that draweth friends to thee, + To which thy firm affection clings, + Unmarr'd by age or change of clime, + Or tempests of this stormy time;-- + All which deserve, in highest lyric, + A rich and lofty panegyric; + But no such thing wouldst thou desire, + Whom pomp displeases, praises tire. + Hence mine is simple, short, and plain; + Yet, madam, I would fain + Tack on a word or two + Of homage to your country due,-- + A country well beloved by you. + + With mind to match the outward case, + The English are a thinking race. + They pierce all subjects through and through; + Well arm'd with facts, they hew their way, + And give to science boundless sway. + Quite free from flattery, I say, + Your countrymen, for penetration, + Must bear the palm from every nation; + For e'en the dogs they breed excel + Our own in nicety of smell. + Your foxes, too, are cunninger, + As readily we may infer + From one that practised, 'tis believed, + A stratagem the best conceived. + The wretch, once, in the utmost strait + By dogs of nose so delicate, + Approach'd a gallows, where, + A lesson to like passengers, + Or clothed in feathers or in furs, + Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were. + Their comrade, in his pressing need, + Arranged himself among the dead. + I seem to see old Hannibal + Outwit some Roman general, + And sit securely in his tent, + The legions on some other scent. + But certain dogs, kept back + To tell the errors of the pack, + Arriving where the traitor hung, + A fault in fullest chorus sung. + Though by their bark the welkin rung, + Their master made them hold the tongue. + Suspecting not a trick so odd, + Said he, 'The rogue's beneath the sod. + My dogs, that never saw such jokes, + Won't bark beyond these honest folks.' + + The rogue would try the trick again. + He did so to his cost and pain. + Again with dogs the welkin rings; + Again our fox from gallows swings; + But though he hangs with greater faith, + This time, he does it to his death. + So uniformly is it true, + A stratagem is best when new. + The hunter, had himself been hunted, + So apt a trick had not invented; + Not that his wit had been deficient;-- + With that, it cannot be denied, + Your English folks are well-provision'd;-- + But wanting love of life sufficient, + Full many an Englishman has died. + One word to you, and I must quit + My much-inviting subject: + A long eulogium is a project + For which my lyre is all unfit. + The song or verse is truly rare, + Which can its meed of incense bear, + And yet amuse the general ear, + Or wing its way to lands afar. + Your prince[37] once told you, I have heard, + (An able judge, as rumour says,) + That he one dash of love preferr'd + To all a sheet could hold of praise. + Accept--'tis all I crave--the offering + Which here my muse has dared to bring-- + Her last, perhaps, of earthly acts; + She blushes at its sad defects. + Still, by your favour of my rhyme, + Might not the self-same homage please, the while, + The dame who fills your northern clime + With winged emigrants sublime + From Cytherea's isle?[38] + By this, you understand, I mean + Love's guardian goddess, Mazarin.[39] + +[35] Abstemius. +[36] _Madame Harvey_.--An English lady (_nee_ Montagu), the + widow of an officer of Charles II. (of England) who is said to have + died at Constantinople. She was a visitor at the English embassy in + Paris, and moved in the highest circles generally of that city; a + circumstance which enabled La Fontaine to make her acquaintance and + secure her as one of his best friends and patrons. She died in 1702. +[37] _Your Prince_.--Charles II. of England. +[38] _Cytherea's isle_.--Where Venus was worshipped. +[39] _Goddess Mazarin_.--The Duchess de Mazarin, niece to the + Cardinal. She was at this time in England, where she died (at + Chelsea) in 1699. She married the Duke de la Meilleraie, but it was + stipulated that she should adopt the name and arms of Mazarin. + + + + +XXIV.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[40] + + Long from the monarch of the stars + The daughters of the mud received + Support and aid; nor dearth nor wars, + Meanwhile, their teeming nation grieved. + They spread their empire far and wide + Through every marsh, by every tide. + The queens of swamps--I mean no more + Than simply frogs (great names are cheap)-- + Caball'd together on the shore, + And cursed their patron from the deep, + And came to be a perfect bore. + Pride, rashness, and ingratitude, + The progeny of fortune good, + Soon brought them to a bitter cry,-- + The end of sleep for earth and sky. + Their clamours, if they did not craze, + Would truly seem enough to raise + All living things to mutiny + Against the power of Nature's eye. + The sun,[41] according to their croak, + Was turning all the world to smoke. + It now behoved to take alarm, + And promptly powerful troops to arm. + Forthwith in haste they sent + Their croaking embassies; + To all their states they went, + And all their colonies. + To hear them talk, the all + That rides upon this whirling ball, + Of men and things, was left at stake + Upon the mud that skirts a lake! + The same complaint, in fens and bogs, + Still ever strains their lungs; + And yet these much-complaining frogs + Had better hold their tongues; + For, should the sun in anger rise, + And hurl his vengeance from the skies, + That kingless, half-aquatic crew + Their impudence would sorely rue. + +[40] Phaedrus, I., 6. Fable XII., Book VI., gives another version of the + same story. +[41] _The sun_.--This fable has reference to the current troubles + between France and the Dutch. Louis XIV. is the sun. He had adopted + the sun as his emblem. + + + + +XXV.--THE LEAGUE OF THE RATS. + + A mouse was once in mortal fear + Of a cat that watch'd her portal near. + What could be done in such a case? + With prudent care she left the catship, + And courted, with a humble grace, + A neighbour of a higher race, + Whose lordship--I should say his ratship-- + Lay in a great hotel; + And who had boasted oft, 'tis said, + Of living wholly without dread. + 'Well,' said this braggart, 'well, + Dame Mouse, what should I do? + Alone I cannot rout + The foe that threatens you. + I'll rally all the rats about, + And then I'll play him such a trick!' + The mouse her court'sy dropp'd, + And off the hero scamper'd quick, + Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd, + Where scores of rats were clustered, + In riotous extravagance, + All feasting at the host's expense. + To him, arriving there much flustered, + Indeed, quite out of breath, + A rat among the feasters saith, + 'What news? what news? I pray you, speak.' + The rat, recovering breath to squeak, + Replied, 'To tell the matter in a trice, + It is, that we must promptly aid the mice; + For old Raminagrab is making + Among their ranks a dreadful quaking. + This cat, of cats the very devil, + When mice are gone, will do us evil.' + 'True, true,' said each and all; + 'To arms! to arms!' they cry and call. + Some ratties by their fears + Were melted e'en to tears. + It matter'd not a whisk, + Nor check'd the valour brisk. + Each took upon his back + Some cheese in haversack, + And roundly swore to risk + His carcass in the cause. + They march'd as to a feast, + Not flinching in the least.-- + But quite too late, for in his jaws + The cat already held the mouse. + They rapidly approach'd the house-- + To save their friend, beyond a doubt. + Just then the cat came growling out, + The mouse beneath his whisker'd nose. + And march'd along before his foes. + At such a voice, our rats discreet, + Foreboding a defeat, + Effected, in a style most fleet, + A fortunate retreat. + Back hurried to his hole each rat, + And afterwards took care to shun the cat. + + + + +XXVI.--DAPHNIS AND ALCIMADURE. + +An Imitation Of Theocritus.[42] + +To Madame De La Mesangere.[43] + + Offspring of her to whom, to-day, + While from thy lovely self away, + A thousand hearts their homage pay, + Besides the throngs whom friendship binds to please, + And some whom love presents thee on their knees! + A mandate which I cannot thrust aside + Between you both impels me to divide + Some of the incense which the dews distil + Upon the roses of a sacred hill, + And which, by secret of my trade, + Is sweet and most delicious made. + To you, I say, ... but all to say + Would task me far beyond my day; + I need judiciously to choose; + Thus husbanding my voice and muse, + Whose strength and leisure soon would fail. + I'll only praise your tender heart, and hale, + Exalted feelings, wit, and grace, + In which there's none can claim a higher place, + Excepting her whose praise is your entail. + Let not too many thorns forbid to touch + These roses--I may call them such-- + If Love should ever say as much. + By him it will be better said, indeed; + And they who his advices will not heed, + Scourge fearfully will he, + As you shall shortly see. + + A blooming miracle of yore + Despised his godship's sovereign power; + They call'd her name Alcimadure. + A haughty creature, fierce and wild, + She sported, Nature's tameless child. + Rough paths her wayward feet would lead + To darkest glens of mossy trees; + Or she would dance on daisied mead, + With nought of law but her caprice. + A fairer could not be, + Nor crueller, than she. + Still charming in her sternest mien,-- + E'en when her haughty look debarr'd,-- + What had she been to lover in + The fortress of her kind regard! + Daphnis, a high-born shepherd swain, + Had loved this maiden to his bane. + Not one regardful look or smile, + Nor e'en a gracious word, the while, + Relieved the fierceness of his pain. + O'erwearied with a suit so vain, + His hope was but to die; + No power had he to fly. + He sought, impell'd by dark despair, + The portals of the cruel fair. + Alas! the winds his only listeners were! + The mistress gave no entrance there-- + No entrance to the palace where, + Ingrate, against her natal day, + She join'd the treasures sweet and gay + In garden or in wild-wood grown, + To blooming beauty all her own. + 'I hoped,' he cried, + 'Before your eyes I should have died; + But, ah! too deeply I have won your hate; + Nor should it be surprising news + To me, that you should now refuse + To lighten thus my cruel fate. + My sire, when I shall be no more, + Is charged to lay your feet before + The heritage your heart neglected. + With this my pasturage shall be connected, + My trusty dog, and all that he protected; + And, of my goods which then remain, + My mourning friends shall rear a fane. + There shall your image stand, midst rosy bowers, + Reviving through the ceaseless hours + An altar built of living flowers. + Near by, my simple monument + Shall this short epitaph present: + "Here Daphnis died of love. Stop, passenger, + And say thou, with a falling tear, + This youth here fell, unable to endure + The ban of proud Alcimadure."' + + He would have added, but his heart + Now felt the last, the fatal dart. + Forth march'd the maid, in triumph deck'd, + And of his murder little reck'd. + In vain her steps her own attendants check'd, + And plead + That she, at least, should shed, + Upon her lover dead, + Some tears of due respect. + The rosy god, of Cytherea born, + She ever treated with the deepest scorn: + Contemning him, his laws, and means of damage, + She drew her train to dance around his image, + When, woful to relate, + The statue fell, and crush'd her with its weight! + A voice forth issued from a cloud,-- + And echo bore the words aloud + Throughout the air wide spread,-- + "Let all now love--the insensible is dead." + Meanwhile, down to the Stygian tide + The shade of Daphnis hied, + And quaked and wonder'd there to meet + The maid, a ghostess, at his feet. + All Erebus awaken'd wide, + To hear that beauteous homicide + Beg pardon of the swain who died-- + For being deaf to love confess'd, + As was Ulysses to the prayer + Of Ajax, begging him to spare, + Or as was Dido's faithless guest.[44] + +[42] Theocritus, Idyl xxiii. +[43] _Madame de la Mesangere._--This lady was the daughter of Madame + de la Sabliere.--Translator. She was the lady termed La Marquise + with whom Fontenelle sustained his imaginary "conversation" in the + "Plurality of Worlds," a book which became very popular both in + France and England. +[44] _Dido's faithless guest_.--Aeneas, with whom Dido, according to + Virgil and Ovid, was in love, but who loved not, and sailed away. + + + + +XXVII.--THE ARBITER, THE ALMONER, AND THE HERMIT. + + Three saints, for their salvation jealous, + Pursued, with hearts alike most zealous, + By routes diverse, their common aim. + All highways lead to Rome: the same + Of heaven our rivals deeming true, + Each chose alone his pathway to pursue. + Moved by the cares, delays, and crosses + Attach'd to suits by legal process, + One gave himself as judge, without reward, + For earthly fortune having small regard. + Since there are laws, to legal strife + Man damns himself for half his life. + For half?--Three-fourths!--perhaps the whole! + The hope possess'd our umpire's soul, + That on his plan he should be able + To cure this vice detestable.-- + The second chose the hospitals. + I give him praise: to solace pain + Is charity not spent in vain, + While men in part are animals. + The sick--for things went then as now they go-- + Gave trouble to the almoner, I trow. + Impatient, sour, complaining ever, + As rack'd by rheum, or parch'd with fever,-- + 'His favourites are such and such; + With them he watches over-much, + And lets us die,' they say,-- + Such sore complaints from day to day + Were nought to those that did await + The reconciler of debate. + His judgments suited neither side; + Forsooth, in either party's view, + He never held the balance true, + But swerved in every cause he tried. + + Discouraged by such speech, the arbiter + Betook himself to see the almoner. + As both received but murmurs for their fees, + They both retired, in not the best of moods, + To break their troubles to the silent woods, + And hold communion with the ancient trees. + There, underneath a rugged mountain, + Beside a clear and silent fountain, + A place revered by winds, to sun unknown, + They found the other saint, who lived alone. + Forthwith they ask'd his sage advice. + 'Your own,' he answer'd, 'must suffice; + Who but yourselves your wants should know? + To know one's self, is, here below, + The first command of the Supreme. + Have you obey'd among the bustling throngs? + Such knowledge to tranquillity belongs; + Elsewhere to seek were fallacy extreme. + Disturb the water--do you see your face? + See we ourselves within a troubled breast? + A murky cloud in such a case, + Though once it were a crystal vase! + But, brothers, let it simply rest, + And each shall see his features there impress'd. + For inward thought a desert home is best.' + + Such was the hermit's answer brief; + And, happily, it gain'd belief. + + But business, still, from life must not be stricken + Since men will doubtless sue at law, and sicken, + Physicians there must be, and advocates,-- + Whereof, thank God, no lack the world awaits, + While wealth and honours are the well-known baits. + Yet, in the stream of common wants when thrown, + What busy mortal but forgets his own? + O, you who give the public all your care, + Be it as judge, or prince, or minister, + Disturb'd by countless accidents most sinister, + By adverse gales abased, debased by fair,-- + Yourself you never see, nor _see_ you aught. + Comes there a moment's rest for serious thought, + There comes a flatterer too, and brings it all to nought. + This lesson seals our varied page: + O, may it teach from age to age! + To kings I give it, to the wise propose; + Where could my labours better close?[45] + +[45] This fable was first printed in the "Recueil de vers choisis du P. + Bouhours," published in 1693, and afterwards given as the last of La + Fontaine's Book XII. + + + * * * * * + +FINIS. + + * * * * * + + +INDEX TO THE FABLES. + + +A. + +Abdera, People of, and Democritus. VIII. 26. +Acorn and Pumpkin. IX. 4. +Aesop and the Will. II. 20. +Adder and Man. X. 2. +Adventurers and Talisman. X. 14. +Advantage of Knowledge. VIII. 19. +Alcimadure and Daphnis. XII. 26. +Almoner, Arbiter, and Hermit. XII. 27. +Amaranth and Thyrsis. VIII. 13. +Animal in the Moon. VII. 18. +Animals, Monkey, and Fox. VI. 6. +Animals sending Tribute, &c. IV. 12. +Animals sick of the Plague. VII. 1. +Ant and Dove. II. 12. +Ant and Fly. IV. 3. +Ant and Grasshopper. I. 1. +Ape of Jupiter and Elephant. XII. 21. +Ape of Paris. XII. 19. +Arbiter, Almoner, and Hermit. XII. 27. +Ass and Dog. VIII. 17. +Ass and his Masters. VI. 11. +Ass and Horse. VI. 16. +Ass and Lion, hunting. II. 19. +Ass and Little Dog. IV. 5. +Ass and Old Man. VI. 8. +Ass and Thieves. I. 13. +Ass bearing Relics. V. 14. +Ass, Dead, and Two Dogs. VIII. 25. +Ass in Lion's Skin. V. 21. +Ass loaded with Sponges, and the Ass loaded with Salt. II. 10. +Ass, Miller, and Son. III. 1. +Asses, Two, Lion, and Monkey. XI. 5. +Astrologer who fell into a Well. II. 13. +Atheist and Oracle. IV. 19. + +B. + +Bat, Bush, and Duck. XII. 7. +Bat and Two Weasels. II. 5. +Bear and Gardener. VIII. 10. +Bear and Lioness. X. 13. +Bear and Two Companions. V. 20. +Bees and Hornets. I. 21. +Beetle and Eagle. II. 8. +Belly and Members. III. 2. +Bird wounded by an Arrow. II. 6. +Birds, Little, and Swallow. I. 8. +Bitch and her Friend. II. 7. +Boreas and Phoebus. VI. 3. +Boy and Schoolmaster. I. 19. +Bulls, Two, and Frog. II. 4. +Burier and his Comrade. X. 5. +Bust and Fox. IV. 14. + +C. + +Camel and Floating Sticks. IV. 10. +Candle, Wax. IX. 12. +Capon and Falcon. VIII. 21. +Cartman in the Mire. VI. 18. +Cat and Fox. IX. 14. +Cat and Monkey. IX. 17. +Cat and Old Rat. III. 18. +Cat and Rat. VIII. 22. +Cat and Two Sparrows. XII. 2. +Cat, Cockerel, and Mouse. VI. 5. +Cat, Eagle, and Wild Sow. III. 6. +Cat metamorphosed to a Woman. II. 18. +Cat, Old, and Young Mouse. XII. 5. +Cat, Weasel, and Young Rabbit. VII. 16. +Cats and Dogs, &c., Quarrel of the. XII. 8. +Charlatan. VI. 19. +Child and Fortune. V. 11. +Coach and Fly. VII. 9. +Cobbler and Financier. VIII. 2. +Cock and Fox. II. 15. +Cock and Pearl. I. 20. +Cockerel, Cat, and Young Mouse. VI. 5. +Cocks and Partridge. X. 8. +Cocks, The Two. VII. 13. +Combat of Rats and Weasels. IV. 6. +Companions of Ulysses. XII. 1. +Cook and Swan. III. 12. +Cormorant and Fishes. X. 4. +Corpse and Curate. VII. 11. +Council held by the Rats. II. 2. +Countryman and Serpent. VI. 13. +Court of the Lion. VII. 7. +Curate and Corpse. VII. 11. + +D. + +Dairy-woman and Pot of Milk. VII. 10. +Daphnis and Alcimadure. XII. 26. +Death and the Dying. VIII. 1. +Death and the Unfortunate. I. 15. +Death and Wood-Chopper. I. 16. +Democritus and the People of Abdera. VIII. 26. +Depositary, The Faithless. IX. 1. +Discord. VI. 20. +Doctors. V. 12. +Dog and Ass. VIII. 17. +Dog and Wolf. I. 5. +Dog carrying his Master's Dinner. VIII. 7. +Dog, Farmer, and Fox. XI. 3. +Dog, Lean, and Wolf. IX. 10. +Dog, Little, and Ass. IV. 5. +Dog who lost the Substance for the Shadow. VI. 17. +Dog with his Ears cut off. X. 9. +Dogs, Cats, &c., The Quarrel of the. XII. 8. +Dogs, The Two, and Dead Ass. VIII. 25. +Dolphin and Monkey. IV. 7. +Dove and Ant. II. 12. +Doves, The Two. IX. 2. +Duck, Bat, and Bush. XII. 7. +Ducks and Tortoise. X. 3. +Dragon of Many Heads, and Dragon of Many Tails. I. 12. +Dream of the Mogul. XI. 4. +Drunkard and his Wife. III. 7. + +E. + +Eagle and Beetle. II. 8. +Eagle and Magpie. XII. 11. +Eagle and Owl. V. 18. +Eagle and Raven. II. 16. +Eagle, Wild Sow, and Cat. III. 6. +Ears of the Hare. V. 4. +Earthen Pot and Iron Pot. V. 2. +Education. VIII. 24. +Elephant and Ape of Jupiter. XII. 21. +Elephant and Rat. VIII. 15. +English Fox. XII. 23. +Eye of the Master. IV. 21. + +F. + +Fables, The Power of. VIII. 4. +Falcon and Capon. VIII. 21. +Falconer, King, and Kite. XII. 12. +Farmer and Jupiter. VI. 4. +Farmer, Dog, and Fox. XI. 3. +File and Serpent. V. 16. +Financier and Cobbler. VIII. 2. +Fish, Little, and Fisher. V. 3. +Fishes and Cormorant. X. 4. +Fishes and Joker. VIII. 8. +Fishes and Shepherd who played the Flute. X. 11. +Flea and Man. VIII. 5. +Floating Sticks and Camel. IV. 10. +Flies, Fox, and Hedgehog. XII. 13. +Fly and Ant. IV. 3. +Fly and Coach. VII. 9. +Folly and Love. XII. 14. +Fool and Sage. XII. 22. +Fool who sold Wisdom. IX. 8. +Forest and Woodman. XII. 16. +Fortune and the Boy. V. 11. +Fortune, Ingratitude towards. VII. 14. +Fortune-Tellers. VII. 15. +Fortune, the Man who ran after, &c. VII. 12. +Fowler, Hawk, and Lark. VI. 15. +Fox and Bust. IV. 14. +Fox and Cat. IX. 14. +Fox and Cock. II. 15. +Fox, Farmer, and Dog. XI. 3. +Fox and Goat. III. 5. +Fox and Grapes. III. 11. +Fox and Raven. I. 2. +Fox and Sick Lion. VI. 14. +Fox and Stork. I. 18. +Fox and Turkeys. XII. 18. +Fox and Wolf. XI. 6., XII. 9. +Fox and Wolf before the Monkey. II. 3. +Fox, English. XII. 23. +Fox, Flies, and Hedgehog. XII. 13. +Fox, Lion, and Wolf. VIII. 3. +Fox, Monkey, and Animals. VI. 6. +Fox, Two Rats, and Egg. X. 1. +Fox with his Tail cut off. V. 5. +Fox, Wolf, and Horse. XII. 17. +Friends, The Two. VIII. 11. +Frog and Rat. IV. 11. +Frog and Two Bulls. II. 4. +Frog who would be as big as the Ox. I. 3. +Frogs and Hare. II. 14. +Frogs and Sun. VI. 12., XII. 24. +Frogs asking a King. III. 4. +Funeral of the Lioness. VIII. 14. + +G. + +Gardener and Bear. VIII. 10. +Gardener and his Lord. IV. 4. +Gardener, Pedant, and School-boy. IX. 5. +Gazelle, Raven, Tortoise, and Rat. XII. 15. +Gnat and Lion. II. 9. +Goat and Fox. III. 5. +Goat, Heifer, Sheep, and Lion. I. 6. +Goat, Hog, and Sheep. VII. 12. +Goat, Kid, and Wolf. IV. 15. +Goats, The Two. XII. 4. +Gods wishing to educate a Son of Jupiter. XI. 2. +Gout and Spider. III. 8. +Grapes and Fox. III. 11. +Grasshopper and Ant. I. 1. + +H. + +Hard to suit, Against the. II. 1. +Hare and Frogs. II. 14. +Hare and Partridge. V. 17. +Hare and Tortoise. VI. 10. +Hare, Ears of the. V. 4. +Hawk, Fowler, and Lark. VI. 15. +Head and Tail of the Serpent. VII. 17. +Hedgehog, Fox, and Flies. XII. 13. +Heifer, Sheep, Goat, and Lion. I. 6. +Hen with Golden Eggs. V. 13. +Hermit, Arbiter, and Almoner. XII. 27. +Heron. VII. 4. +Hog, Goat, and Sheep. VIII. 12. +Hornets and Honey-Bees. I. 21. +Horoscope. VIII. 16. +Horse and Ass. VI. 16. +Horse and Stag. IV. 13. +Horse and Wolf. V. 8. +Horse, Fox, and Wolf. XII. 17. +Hunter and Lion. VI. 2. +Hunter and Wolf. VIII. 27. +Husband, Wife, and Thief. IX. 15. + +I. + +Idol of Wood and Man. IV. 8. +Ill-Married. VII. 2. +Image, Man and his. I. 11. + +J. + +Jay and the Peacock's Feathers. IV. 9. +Joker and Fishes. VIII. 8. +Juno and Peacock. II. 17. +Jupiter and Farmer. VI. 4. +Jupiter and the Thunderbolts. VIII. 20. +Jupiter and Traveller. IX. 13. + +K. + +Kid, Goat, and Wolf. IV. 15. +King, Kite, and Falconer. XII. 12. +King and Shepherd. X. 10. +King, his Son, and the Two Parrots. X. 12. +King's Son, Merchant, Noble, and Shepherd. X. 16. +Kite and Nightingale. IX. 18. +Kite, King, and Falconer. XII. 12. +Knowledge, The Use of. VIII. 19. + +L. + +Lamb and Wolf. I. 10. +Lark and her Young Ones, &c. IV. 22. +Lark, Fowler, and Hawk. VI. 15. +League of the Rats. XII. 25. +Leopard and Monkey. IX. 3. +Lion. XI. 1. +Lion and Ass hunting. II. 19. +Lion, Goat, Heifer, and Sheep. I. 6. +Lion and Gnat. II. 9. +Lion and Hunter. VI. 2. +Lion and Rat. II. 11. +Lion and Shepherd. VI. 1. +Lion beaten by Man. III. 10. +Lion, Court of the. VII. 7. +Lion going to War. V. 19. +Lion grown old. III. 14. +Lion in Love. IV. 1. +Lion, Monkey, and two Asses. XI. 5. +Lion, The Sick, and Fox. VI. 14. +Lion, Wolf, and Fox. VIII. 3. +Lioness and Bear. X. 13. +Lioness, Funeral of the. VIII. 14. +Litigants and Oyster. IX. 9. +Lobster and Daughter. XII. 10. +Love and Folly. XII. 14. +Love, Lion in. IV. 1. + +M. + +Magpie and Eagle. XII. 11. +Maid. VII. 5. +Man and Adder. X. 2. +Man and Flea. VIII. 5. +Man and his Image. I. 11. +Man and Two Mistresses. I. 17. +Man and Wooden God. IV. 8. +Man beating a Lion. III. 20. +Man who ran after Fortune. &c. VII. 12. +Master, The Eye of the. IV. 21. +Members and Belly. III. 2. +Men, The Two, and Treasure. IX. 16. +Merchant and Pashaw. VIII. 18. +Merchant, Noble, Shepherd, and King's Son. X. 16. +Mercury and Woodman. V. 1. +Miller, Son, and Ass. III. 1. +Mice and Cats, Quarrel of the, &c. XII. 8. +Mice and Owl. XI. 9. +Miser and Monkey. XII. 3. +Miser who had lost his Treasure. IV. 20. +Mogul's Dream. XI. 4. +Monkey and Cat. IX. 17. +Monkey and Dolphin. IV. 7. +Monkey and Leopard. IX. 3. +Monkey and Miser. XII. 3. +Monkey, Fox, and Animals. VI. 6. +Monkey judging Wolf and Fox. II. 3. +Monkey, Lion, and Two Asses. XI. 5. +Mother, Child, and Wolf. IV. 16. +Mountain in Labour, V. 10. +Mouse, Cockerel, and Cat. VI. 5. +Mouse metamorphosed into a Maid. IX. 7. +Mouse, Young, and Cat. XII. 5. +Mule boasting of his Genealogy. VI. 7. +Mules, The Two. I. 4. + +N. + +Nightingale and Kite. IX. 18. +Nobleman, Merchant, Shepherd, and King's Son. X. 16. +Nothing too Much. IX. 11. + +O. + +Oak and Reed. I. 22. +Old Cat and Young Mouse. XII. 5. +Old Man and Ass. VI. 8. +Old Man and his Sons. IV. 18. +Old Man and Three Young Ones. XI. 8. +Old Woman and Two Servants. V. 6. +Oracle and the Atheist. IV. 19. +Owl and Eagle. V. 18. +Owl and Mice. XI. 9. +Oyster and Litigants. IX. 9. +Oyster and Rat. VIII. 9. + +P. + +Parrots, The Two, the King, and his Son. X. 12. +Partridge and Cocks. X. 8. +Partridge and Hare. V. 17. +Pashaw and Merchant. VIII. 18. +Peacock complaining to Juno. II. 17. +Pearl and Cock. I. 20. +Peasant of the Danube. XI. 7. +Pedant, Schoolboy, and Gardener. IX. 5. +Philomel and Progne. III. 15. +Phoebus and Boreas. VI. 3. +Pigeons and Vultures. VII. 8. +Pigeons, The Two. IX. 2. +Ploughman and his Sons. V. 9. +Pot of Earth and the Pot of Iron. V. 2. +Pot of Milk and Dairy-woman. VII. 10. +Power of Fables. VIII. 4. +Pumpkin and Acorn. IX. 4. + +Q. + +Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats, &c. XII. 8. + +R. + +Rabbit, Cat, and Weasel. VII. 16. +Rabbits. X. 15. +Rat and Cat. VIII. 22. +Rat and Elephant. VIII. 15. +Rat and Frog. IV. 11. +Rat and Lion. II. 11. +Rat and Oyster. VIII. 9. +Rat, City, and Country Rat. I. 9. +Rat, Old, and Cat. III. 18. +Rat retired from the World. VII. 3. +Rat, Tortoise, Raven, and Gazelle. XII. 15. +Rats and Weasels, Combat of. IV. 6. +Rats, Council of the. II. 2. +Rats, League of the. XII. 25. +Rats, Two, Fox, and Egg. X. 1. +Raven wishing to imitate the Eagle. II. 16. +Raven and Fox. I. 2. +Raven, Tortoise, Gazelle, and Rat. XII. 15. +Reed and Oak. I. 22. +River and Torrent. VIII. 23. +Robber, Husband, and Wife. IX. 15. + +S. + +Sage and Fool. XII. 22. +Satyr and Traveller. V. 7. +Schoolboy, Pedant, and Gardener. IX. 5. +Schoolmaster and Boy. I. 19. +Sculptor and Statue of Jupiter. IX. 6. +Scythian Philosopher. XII. 20. +Sea, The Shepherd and the. IV. 2. +Serpent and Countryman. VI. 13. +Serpent and File. V. 16. +Serpent, Head and Tail of. VII. 17. +Servants, Two, and Old Woman. V. 6. +Sheep and Wolves. III. 13. +Sheep, Heifer, Goat, and Lion. I. 6. +Sheep, Hog, and Goat. VIII. 12. +Shepherd and his Flock. IX. 19. +Shepherd and King. X. 10. +Shepherd and Lion. VI. 1. +Shepherd and Sea. IV. 2. +Shepherd and Wolf. III. 3. +Shepherd, Merchant, Noble, and King's Son. X. 16. +Shepherd who played the Flute, and Fishes. X. 11. +Shepherds and Wolf. X. 6. +Simonides preserved by the Gods. I. 14. +Socrates, The Words of. IV. 17. +Sow (Wild), Cat, and Eagle. III. 6. +Sparrows, Two, and Cat. XII. 2. +Spider and Gout. III. 8. +Spider and Swallow. X. 7. +Stag and Horse. IV. 13. +Stag and Vine. V. 15. +Stag seeing Himself in the Water. VI. 9. +Stag, Sick. XII. 6. +Stork and Fox. I. 18. +Stork and Wolf. III. 9. +Sun and Frogs. VI. 12., XII. 24. +Swallow and Little Birds. I. 8. +Swallow and Spider. X. 9. +Swan and Cook. III. 12. + +T. + +Talisman and Two Adventurers. X. 14. +Thieves and Ass. I. 13. +Thyrsis and Amaranth. VIII. 13. +Tortoise and Hare. VI. 10. +Tortoise and two Ducks. X. 3. +Tortoise, Gazelle. Raven, and Rat. XII. 15. +Torrent and River. VIII. 23. +Traveller and Jupiter. IX. l3. +Traveller and Satyr. V. 7. +Treasure and Two Men. IX. 16. +Turkeys and Fox. XII. 18. + +U. + +Ulysses, Companions of. XII. 1. +Unfortunate and Death. I. 15. + +V. + +Vine and Stag. V. 15. +Vultures and Pigeons. VII. 8. + +W. + +Wallet. I. 7. +Wax-Candle. IX. 12. +Weasel, Cat, and Rabbit. VII. 16. +Weasel in a Granary. III. 17. +Weasels, Two, and Bat. II. 5. +Weasels and Rats, Combat of. IV. 6. +Widow, The Young. VI. 21. +Wild Sow, Eagle, and Cat. III. 6. +Will explained by Aesop. II. 20. +Wishes. VII. 6. +Wolf and Dog. I. 5. +Wolf and Fox. XII. 9. +Wolf and Fox at the Well. XI. 6. +Wolf and Fox before the Monkey. II. 3. +Wolf and Horse. V. 8. +Wolf and Hunter. VIII. 27. +Wolf and Lamb. I. 10. +Wolf and Lean Dog. IX. 10. +Wolf and Shepherds. X. 6. +Wolf and Stork. III. 9. +Wolf, Fox, and Horse. XII. 17. +Wolf, Goat, and Kid. IV. 15. +Wolf, Lion, and Fox. VIII. 3. +Wolf, Mother, and Child. IV. 16. +Wolf turned Shepherd. III. 3. +Wolves and Sheep. III. 13. +Woman Drowned. III. 16. +Women and the Secret. VIII. 6. +Wood-Chopper and Death. I. 16. +Woodman and Forest. XII. 16. +Woodman and Mercury. V. 1. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Fables of La Fontaine, by Jean de La Fontaine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + +This file should be named 7ffab10.txt or 7ffab10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7ffab11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7ffab10a.txt + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Fables of La Fontaine + A New Edition, With Notes + +Author: Jean de La Fontaine + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7241] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 30, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + + + + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + +THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE + + +_Translated From The French_ + +By Elizur Wright. + + +_A New Edition, With Notes_ + +By J. W. M. Gibbs. + +1882 + + * * * * * + +PREFACE + +To The Present Edition, + +With Some Account Of The Translator. + +The first edition of this translation of La Fontaine's Fables appeared +in Boston, U.S., in 1841. It achieved a considerable success, and six +editions were printed in three years. Since then it has been allowed to +pass out of print, except in the shape of a small-type edition produced +in London immediately after the first publication in Boston, and the +present publishers have thought that a reprint in a readable yet popular +form would be generally acceptable. + +The translator has remarked, in the "Advertisement" to his original +edition (which follows these pages), on the singular neglect of La +Fontaine by English translators up to the time of his own work. Forty +years have elapsed since those remarks were penned, yet translations into +English of the _complete_ Fables of the chief among modern fabulists +are almost as few in number as they were then. Mr. George Ticknor (the +author of the "History of Spanish Literature," &c.), in praising Mr. +Wright's translation when it first appeared, said La Fontaine's was "a +book till now untranslated;" and since Mr. Wright so happily accomplished +his self-imposed task, there has been but one other complete translation, +viz., that of the late Mr. Walter Thornbury. This latter, however, seems +to have been undertaken chiefly with a view to supplying the necessary +accompaniment to the English issue of M. Doré's well-known designs for +the Fables (first published as illustrations to a Paris edition), and +existing as it does only in the large quarto form given to those +illustrations, it cannot make any claim to be a handy-volume edition. Mr. +Wright's translation, however, still holds its place as the best English +version, and the present reprint, besides having undergone careful +revision, embodies the corrections (but not the expurgations) of the +sixth edition, which differed from those preceding it. The notes too, +have, for the most part, been added by the reviser. + +Some account of the translator, who is still one of the living notables +of his nation, may not be out of place here. Elizur Wright, junior, is +the son of Elizur Wright, who published some papers in mathematics, but +was principally engaged in agricultural pursuits at Canaan, Litchfield +Co., Connecticut, U.S. The younger Elizur Wright was born at Canaan in +1804. He graduated at Yale College in 1826, and afterwards taught in a +school at Groton. In 1829, he became Professor of Mathematics in Hudson +College, from which post he went to New York in 1833, on being appointed +secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society. In 1838 he removed to the +literary centre of the United States, Boston, where he edited several +papers successively, and where he published his "La Fontaine;" which +thus, whilst, it still remains his most considerable work, was also one +of his earliest. How he was led to undertake it, he has himself narrated +in the advertisement to his first edition. But previously to 1841, the +date of the first publication of the complete "Fables," he tried the +effect of a partial publication. In 1839 he published, anonymously, a +little 12mo volume, "La Fontaine; A Present for the Young." This, as +appears from the title, was a book for children, and though the substance +of these few (and simpler) fables may be traced in the later and complete +edition, the latter shows a considerable improvement upon the work of his +"'prentice hand." The complete work was published, as we have said, in +1841. It appeared in an expensive and sumptuous form, and was adorned +with the French artist Grandville's illustrations--which had first +appeared only two years previously in the Paris edition of La Fontaine's +Fables, published by Fournier Ainé. The book was well received both in +America and England, and four other editions were speedily called for. +The sixth edition, published in 1843, was a slightly expurgated one, +designed for schools. The expurgation, however, almost wholly consisted +of the omission bodily of five of the fables, whose places were, as Mr. +Wright stated in his preface, filled by six original fables of his own. +From his "Notice" affixed to this sixth edition, it seems evident that he +by no means relished the task, usually a hateful one, of expurgating his +author. Having, however, been urged to the task by "criticisms both +friendly and unfriendly" (as he says) he did it; and did it wisely, +because sparingly. But in his prefatory words he in a measure protests. +He says:--"In this age, distinguished for almost everything more than +sincerity, there are some people who would seem too delicate and refined +to read their Bibles." And he concludes with the appeal,--"But the +unsophisticated lovers of _nature_, who have not had the opportunity +to acquaint themselves with the French language, I have no doubt will +thank me for interpreting to them these honest and truthful fictions of +the frank old JEAN, and will beg me to proceed no farther in the work +of expurgation." The first of the substituted fables of the sixth +edition--_The Fly and the Game_, given below--may also be viewed as +a protest to the same purpose. As a specimen of Mr. Wright's powers at +once as an original poet and an original fabulist, we here print (for the +first time in England, we believe) the substituted fables of his sixth +edition. We may add, that they appeared in lieu of the following five +fables as given in Mr. Wright's complete edition--and in the present +edition:--_The Bitch and her Friend, The Mountain in Labour, The Young +Widow, The Women and the Secret_, and, _The Husband, the Wife, and +the Thief_. It should also be borne in mind that these original fables +were inserted in an edition professedly meant for schools rather than for +the general public. + + * * * * * + +THE FLY AND THE GAME. + + A knight of powder-horn and shot + Once fill'd his bag--as I would not, + Unless the feelings of my breast + By poverty were sorely press'd-- + With birds and squirrels for the spits + Of certain gormandizing cits. + With merry heart the fellow went + Direct to Mr. Centpercent, + Who loved, as well was understood, + Whatever game was nice and good. + This gentleman, with knowing air, + Survey'd the dainty lot with care, + Pronounced it racy, rich, and rare, + And call'd his wife, to know her wishes + About its purchase for their dishes. + The lady thought the creatures prime, + And for their dinner just in time; + So sweet they were, and delicate, + For dinner she could hardly wait. + But now there came--could luck be worse?-- + Just as the buyer drew his purse, + A bulky fly, with solemn buzz, + And smelt, as an inspector does, + This bird and that, and said the meat-- + But here his words I won't repeat-- + Was anything but fit to eat. + 'Ah!' cried the lady, 'there's a fly + I never knew to tell a lie; + His coat, you see, is bottle-green; + He knows a thing or two I ween; + My dear, I beg you, do not buy: + Such game as this may suit the dogs.' + So on our peddling sportsman jogs, + His soul possess'd of this surmise, + About some men, as well as flies: + A filthy taint they soonest find + Who are to relish filth inclined. + + + + +THE DOG AND CAT. + + A dog and cat, messmates for life, + Were often falling into strife, + Which came to scratching, growls, and snaps, + And spitting in the face, perhaps. + A neighbour dog once chanced to call + Just at the outset of their brawl, + And, thinking Tray was cross and cruel, + To snarl so sharp at Mrs. Mew-well, + Growl'd rather roughly in his ear. + 'And who are you to interfere?' + Exclaim'd the cat, while in his face she flew; + And, as was wise, he suddenly withdrew. + + It seems, in spite of all his snarling, + And hers, that Tray was still her darling. + + + + +THE GOLDEN PITCHER. + + A father once, whose sons were two, + For each a gift had much ado. + At last upon this course he fell: + 'My sons,' said he, 'within our well + Two treasures lodge, as I am told; + The one a sunken piece of gold,-- + A bowl it may be, or a pitcher,-- + The other is a thing far richer. + These treasures if you can but find, + Each may be suited to his mind; + For both are precious in their kind. + To gain the one you'll need a hook; + The other will but cost a look. + But O, of this, I pray, beware!-- + You who may choose the tempting share,-- + Too eager fishing for the pitcher + May ruin that which is far richer.' + + Out ran the boys, their gifts to draw: + But eagerness was check'd with awe, + How could there be a richer prize + Than solid gold beneath the skies? + Or, if there could, how could it dwell + Within their own old, mossy well? + Were questions which excited wonder, + And kept their headlong av'rice under. + The golden cup each fear'd to choose, + Lest he the better gift should lose; + And so resolved our prudent pair, + The gifts in common they would share. + The well was open to the sky. + As o'er its curb they keenly pry, + It seems a tunnel piercing through, + From sky to sky, from blue to blue; + And, at its nether mouth, each sees + A brace of their antipodes, + With earnest faces peering up, + As if themselves might seek the cup. + 'Ha!' said the elder, with a laugh, + 'We need not share it by the half. + The mystery is clear to me; + That richer gift to all is free. + Be only as that water true, + And then the whole belongs to you.' + + That truth itself was worth so much, + It cannot be supposed that such. + A pair of lads were satisfied; + And yet they were before they died. + But whether they fish'd up the gold + I'm sure I never have been told. + Thus much they learn'd, I take for granted,-- + And that was what their father wanted:-- + If truth for wealth we sacrifice, + We throw away the richer prize. + + + + +PARTY STRIFE. + + Among the beasts a feud arose. + The lion, as the story goes, + Once on a time laid down + His sceptre and his crown; + And in his stead the beasts elected, + As often as it suited them, + A sort of king _pro tem._,-- + Some animal they much respected. + At first they all concurr'd. + The horse, the stag, the unicorn, + Were chosen each in turn; + And then the noble bird + That looks undazzled at the sun. + But party strife began to run + Through burrow, den, and herd. + Some beasts proposed the patient ox, + And others named the cunning fox. + The quarrel came to bites and knocks; + Nor was it duly settled + Till many a beast high-mettled + Had bought an aching head, + Or, possibly, had bled. + The fox, as one might well suppose, + At last above his rival rose, + But, truth to say, his reign was bootless, + Of honour being rather fruitless. + All prudent beasts began to see + The throne a certain charm had lost, + And, won by strife, as it must be, + Was hardly worth the pains it cost. + So when his majesty retired, + Few worthy beasts his seat desired. + Especially now stood aloof + The wise of head, the swift of hoof, + The beasts whose breasts were battle-proof. + It consequently came to pass, + Not first, but, as we say, in fine, + For king the creatures chose the ass-- + He, for prime minister the swine. + + 'Tis thus that party spirit + Is prone to banish merit. + + + + +THE CAT AND THE THRUSH. + + A thrush that sang one rustic ode + Once made a garden his abode, + And gave the owner such delight, + He grew a special favourite. + Indeed, his landlord did his best + To make him safe from every foe; + The ground about his lowly nest + Was undisturb'd by spade or hoe. + And yet his song was still the same; + It even grew somewhat more tame. + At length Grimalkin spied the pet, + Resolved that he should suffer yet, + And laid his plan of devastation + So as to save his reputation; + For, in the house, from looks demure, + He pass'd for honest, kind, and pure. + Professing search of mice and moles, + He through the garden daily strolls, + And never seeks our thrush to catch; + But when his consort comes to hatch, + Just eats the young ones in a batch. + The sadness of the pair bereaved + Their generous guardian sorely grieved. + But yet it could not be believed + His faithful cat was in the wrong, + Though so the thrush said in his song. + The cat was therefore favour'd still + To walk the garden at his will; + And hence the birds, to shun the pest, + Upon a pear-tree built their nest. + Though there it cost them vastly more, + 'Twas vastly better than before. + And Gaffer Thrush directly found + His throat, when raised above the ground, + Gave forth a softer, sweeter sound. + New tunes, moreover, he had caught, + By perils and afflictions taught, + And found new things to sing about: + New scenes had brought new talents out. + So, while, improved beyond a doubt, + His own old song more clearly rang, + Far better than themselves he sang + The chants and trills of other birds; + He even mock'd Grimalkin's words + With such delightful humour that + He gain'd the Christian name of Cat. + + Let Genius tell in verse and prose. + How much to praise and friends it owes. + Good sense may be, as I suppose, + As much indebted to its foes. + + * * * * * + +In 1844 Mr. Wright wrote the Preface to the first collected edition of +the works of the poet J. G. Whittier; and soon after he seems to have +become completely absorbed in politics, and in the mighty anti-slavery +struggle, which constituted the greater part of the politics of the +United States in those and many succeeding years. He became a journalist +in the anti-slavery cause; and, in 1850, he wrote a trenchant answer to +Mr. Carlyle's then just published "Latter Day Pamphlets." Later on, +slavery having been at length abolished, he appeared as a writer in yet +another field, publishing several works, one as lately as 1877, on +life-assurance. + +London, 1881. + + * * * * * + +ADVERTISEMENT + +To The First Edition Of This Translation. + +[Boston, U.S.A., 1841.] + +Four years ago, I dropped into Charles de Behr's repository of foreign +books, in Broadway, New York, and there, for the first time, saw La +Fontaine's Fables. It was a cheap copy, adorned with some two hundred +woodcuts, which, by their worn appearance, betokened an extensive +manufacture. I became a purchaser, and gave the book to my little boy, +then just beginning to feel the intellectual magnetism of pictures. In +the course of the next year, he frequently tasked my imperfect knowledge +of French for the story which belonged to some favourite vignette. This +led me to inquire whether any English version existed; and, not finding +any, I resolved, though quite unused to literary exercises of the sort, +to cheat sleep of an hour every morning till there should be one. The +result is before you. If in this I have wronged La Fontaine, I hope the +best-natured of poets, as well as yourselves, will forgive me, and lay +the blame on the better qualified, who have so long neglected the task. +Cowper should have done it. The author of "John Gilpin," and the "Retired +Cat," would have put La Fontaine into every chimney-corner which resounds +with the Anglo-Saxon tongue.... To you who have so generously enabled me +to publish this work with so great advantages, and without selling the +copyright for the _promise_ of a song, I return my heartfelt thanks. +A hatchet-faced, spectacled, threadbare stranger knocked at your doors, +with a prospectus, unbacked by "the trade," soliciting your subscription +to a costly edition of a mere translation. It is a most inglorious, +unsatisfactory species of literature. The slightest preponderance of that +worldly wisdom which never buys a pig-in-a-poke would have sent him and +his translation packing. But a kind faith in your species got the better +in your case. You not only gave the hungry-looking stranger your good +wishes, but your good names. A list of those names it would delight me to +insert; and I should certainly do it if I felt authorized. As it is, I +hope to be pardoned for mentioning some of the individuals, who have not +only given their names, but expressed an interest in my enterprise which +has assisted me in its accomplishment. Rev. John Pierpont, Prof. George +Ticknor, Prof. Henry W. Longfellow, William H. Prescott, Esq., Hon. +Theodore Lyman, Prof. Silliman, Prof. Denison Olmsted, Chancellor Kent, +William C. Bryant, Esq., Dr. J. W. Francis, Hon. Peter A. Jay, Hon. +Luther Bradish, and Prof. J. Molinard, have special claims to my +gratitude.... + +The work--as it is, not as it ought to be--I commit to your kindness. I +do not claim to have succeeded in translating "the inimitable La +Fontaine,"--perhaps I have not even a right to say in his own language-- + + "J'ai du moins ouvert le chemin." + +However this may be, I am, gratefully, + +Your obedient servant, + +Elizur Wright, Jr. + +Dorchester, _September_, 1841. + + * * * * * + +A PREFACE, + +on + +Fable, The Fabulists, And La Fontaine. + +By The Translator. + +Human nature, when fresh from the hand of God, was full of poetry. Its +sociality could not be pent within the bounds of the actual. To the lower +inhabitants of air, earth, and water,--and even to those elements +themselves, in all their parts and forms,--it gave speech and reason. The +skies it peopled with beings, on the noblest model of which it could have +any conception--to wit, its own. The intercourse of these beings, thus +created and endowed,--from the deity kindled into immortality by the +imagination, to the clod personified for the moment,--gratified one of +its strongest propensities; for man may well enough be defined as the +historical animal. The faculty which, in after ages, was to chronicle the +realities developed by time, had at first no employment but to place on +record the productions of the imagination. Hence, fable blossomed and +ripened in the remotest antiquity. We see it mingling itself with the +primeval history of all nations. It is not improbable that many of the +narratives which have been preserved for us, by the bark or parchment of +the first rude histories, as serious matters of fact, were originally +apologues, or parables, invented to give power and wings to moral +lessons, and afterwards modified, in their passage from mouth to mouth, +by the well-known magic of credulity. The most ancient poets graced their +productions with apologues. Hesiod's fable of the Hawk and the +Nightingale is an instance. The fable or parable was anciently, as it is +even now, a favourite weapon of the most successful orators. When Jotham +would show the Shechemites the folly of their ingratitude, he uttered the +fable of the Fig-Tree, the Olive, the Vine, and the Bramble. When the +prophet Nathan would oblige David to pass a sentence of condemnation upon +himself in the matter of Uriah, he brought before him the apologue of the +rich man who, having many sheep, took away that of the poor man who had +but one. When Joash, the king of Israel, would rebuke the vanity of +Amaziah, the king of Judah, he referred him to the fable of the Thistle +and the Cedar. Our blessed Saviour, the best of all teachers, was +remarkable for his constant use of parables, which are but fables--we +speak it with reverence--adapted to the gravity of the subjects on which +he discoursed. And, in profane history, we read that Stesichorus put the +Himerians on their guard against the tyranny of Phalaris by the fable of +the Horse and the Stag. Cyrus, for the instruction of kings, told the +story of the fisher obliged to use his nets to take the fish that turned +a deaf ear to the sound of his flute. Menenius Agrippa, wishing to bring +back the mutinous Roman people from Mount Sacer, ended his harangue with +the fable of the Belly and the Members. A Ligurian, in order to dissuade +King Comanus from yielding to the Phocians a portion of his territory as +the site of Marseilles, introduced into his discourse the story of the +bitch that borrowed a kennel in which to bring forth her young, but, when +they were sufficiently grown, refused to give it up. + +In all these instances, we see that fable was a mere auxiliary of +discourse--an implement of the orator. Such, probably, was the origin of +the apologues which now form the bulk of the most popular collections. +Aesop, who lived about six hundred years before Christ, so far as we can +reach the reality of his life, was an orator who wielded the apologue +with remarkable skill. From a servile condition, he rose, by the force of +his genius, to be the counsellor of kings and states. His wisdom was in +demand far and wide, and on the most important occasions. The pithy +apologues which fell from his lips, which, like the rules of arithmetic, +solved the difficult problems of human conduct constantly presented to +him, were remembered when the speeches that contained them were +forgotten. He seems to have written nothing himself; but it was not long +before the gems which he scattered began to be gathered up in +collections, as a distinct species of literature. The great and good +Socrates employed himself, while in prison, in turning the fables of +Aesop into verse. Though but a few fragments of his composition have come +down to us, he may, perhaps, be regarded as the father of fable, +considered as a distinct art. Induced by his example, many Greek poets +and philosophers tried their hands in it. Archilocus, Alcaeus, Aristotle, +Plato, Diodorus, Plutarch, and Lucian, have left us specimens. +Collections of fables bearing the name of Aesop became current in the +Greek language. It was not, however, till the year 1447 that the large +collection which now bears his name was put forth in Greek prose by +Planudes, a monk of Constantinople. This man turned the life of Aesop +itself into a fable; and La Fontaine did it the honour to translate it as +a preface to his own collection. Though burdened with insufferable +puerilities, it is not without the moral that a rude and deformed +exterior may conceal both wit and worth. + +The collection of fables in Greek verse by Babrias was exceedingly +popular among the Romans. It was the favourite book of the Emperor +Julian. Only six of these fables, and a few fragments, remain; but they +are sufficient to show that their author possessed all the graces of +style which befit the apologue. Some critics place him in the Augustan +age; others make him contemporary with Moschus. His work was versified in +Latin, at the instance of Seneca; and Quinctilian refers to it as a +reading-book for boys. Thus, at all times, these playful fictions have +been considered fit lessons for children, as well as for men, who are +often but grown-up children. So popular were the fables of Babrias and +their Latin translation, during the Roman empire, that the work of +Phaedrus was hardly noticed. The latter was a freedman of Augustus, and +wrote in the reign of Tiberius. His verse stands almost unrivalled for +its exquisite elegance and compactness; and posterity has abundantly +avenged him for the neglect of contemporaries. La Fontaine is perhaps +more indebted to Phaedrus than to any other of his predecessors; and, +especially in the first six books, his style has much of the same curious +condensation. When the seat of the empire was transferred to Byzantium, +the Greek language took precedence of the Latin; and the rhetorician +Aphthonius wrote forty fables in Greek prose, which became popular. +Besides these collections among the Romans, we find apologues scattered +through the writings of their best poets and historians, and embalmed in +those specimens of their oratory which have come down to us. + +The apologues of the Greeks and Romans were brief, pithy, and +epigrammatic, and their collections were without any principle of +connection. But, at the same time, though probably unknown to them, the +same species of literature was flourishing elsewhere under a somewhat +different form. It is made a question, whether Aesop, through the +Assyrians, with whom the Phrygians had commercial relations, did not +either borrow his art from the Orientals, or lend it to them. This +disputed subject must be left to those who have a taste for such +inquiries. Certain it is, however, that fable flourished very anciently +with the people whose faith embraces the doctrine of metempsychosis. +Among the Hindoos, there are two very ancient collections of fables, +which differ from those which we have already mentioned, in having a +principle of connection throughout. They are, in fact, extended romances, +or dramas, in which all sorts of creatures are introduced as actors, and +in which there is a development of sentiment and passion as well as of +moral truth, the whole being wrought into a system of morals particularly +adapted to the use of those called to govern. One of these works is +called the _Pantcha Tantra_, which signifies "Five Books," or +Pentateuch. It is written in prose. The other is called the _Hitopadesa_, +or "Friendly Instruction," and is written in verse. Both are in the +ancient Sanscrit language, and bear the name of a Brahmin, Vishnoo +Sarmah,[1] as the author. Sir William Jones, who is inclined to make this +author the true Aesop of the world, and to doubt the existence of the +Phrygian, gives him the preference to all other fabulists, both in +regard to matter and manner. He has left a prose translation of the +_Hitopadesa_, which, though it may not fully sustain his enthusiastic +preference, shows it not to be entirely groundless. We give a sample +of it, and select a fable which La Fontaine has served up as the +twenty-seventh of his eighth book. It should be understood that the +fable, with the moral reflections which accompany it, is taken from the +speech of one animal to another. + +[1] _Vishnoo Sarmah_.--Sir William Jones has the name + _Vishnu-sarman_. He says, further, that the word + _Hitopadesa_ comes from _hita_, signifying fortune, + prosperity, utility, and _upadesa_, signifying advice, + the entire word meaning "salutary or amicable + instruction."--Ed. + +"Frugality should ever be practised, but not excessive parsimony; for see +how a miser was killed by a bow drawn by himself!" + +"How was that?" said Hiranyaca. + +"In the country of Calyanacataca," said Menthara, "lived a mighty hunter, +named Bhairaza, or Terrible. One day he went, in search of game, into a +forest on the mountains Vindhya; when, having slain a fawn, and taken it +up, he perceived a boar of tremendous size; he therefore threw the fawn +on the ground, and wounded the boar with an arrow; the beast, horribly +roaring, rushed upon him, and wounded him desperately, so that he fell, +like a tree stricken with an axe. + + * * * * * + +"In the meanwhile, a jackal, named Lougery, was roving in search of food; +and, having perceived the fawn, the hunter, and the boar, all three dead, +he said to himself, 'What a noble provision is here made for me!' + +"As the pains of men assail them unexpectedly, so their pleasures come in +the same manner; a divine power strongly operates in both. + +"'Be it so; the flesh of these three animals will sustain me a whole +month, or longer. + +"'A man suffices for one month; a fawn and a boar, for two; a snake, for +a whole day; and then I will devour the bowstring.' When the first +impulse of his hunger was allayed, he said, 'This flesh is not yet +tender; let me taste the twisted string with which the horns of this bow +are joined.' So saying, he began to gnaw it; but, in the instant when he +had cut the string, the severed bow leaped forcibly up, and wounded him +in the breast, so that he departed in the agonies of death. This I meant, +when I cited the verse, Frugality should ever be practised, &c. + + * * * * * + +"What thou givest to distinguished men, and what thou eatest every +day--that, in my opinion, is thine own wealth: whose is the remainder +which thou hoardest?" + +_Works of Sir William Jones_, vol. vi. pp. 35-37.[2] + +[2] Edition 1799, 6 vols., 4to.--Ed. + +It was one of these books which Chosroës, the king of Persia, caused to +be translated from the Sanscrit into the ancient language of his country, +in the sixth century of the Christian era, sending an embassy into +Hindostan expressly for that purpose. Of the Persian book a translation +was made in the time of the Calif Mansour, in the eighth century, into +Arabic. This Arabic translation it is which became famous under the title +of "The Book of Calila and Dimna, or the Fables of Bidpaï."[3] + +[3] An English translation from the Arabic appeared in 1819, done by the + Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull. Sir William Jones says that the word + _Bidpaii_ signifies beloved, or favourite, physician. And he + adds that the word _Pilpay_, which has taken the place of + _Bidpaii_ in some editions of these fables, is the result + simply of a blunder in copying the word _Bidpaii_ from the + original. La Fontaine himself uses the word _Pilpay_ twice in + his Fables, viz., in Fables XII. and XV., Book XII.--Ed. + +Calila and Dimna are the names of two jackals that figure in the history, +and Bidpaï is one of the principal human interlocutors, who came to be +mistaken for the author. This remarkable book was turned into verse by +several of the Arabic poets, was translated into Greek, Hebrew, Latin, +modern Persian, and, in the course of a few centuries, either directly or +indirectly, into most of the languages of modern Europe. + +Forty-one of the unadorned and disconnected fables of Aesop were also +translated into Arabic at a period somewhat more recent than the Hegira, +and passed by the name of the "Fables of Lokman." Their want of poetical +ornament prevented them from acquiring much popularity with the Arabians; +but they became well known in Europe, as furnishing a convenient +text-book in the study of Arabic. + +The _Hitopadesa_, the fountain of poetic fables, with its +innumerable translations and modifications, seems to have had the +greatest charms for the Orientals. As it passed down the stream of time, +version after version, the ornament and machinery outgrew the moral +instruction, till it gave birth, at last, to such works of mere amusement +as the "Thousand and One Nights." + +Fable slept, with other things, in the dark ages of Europe. Abridgments +took the place of the large collections, and probably occasioned the +entire loss of some of them. As literature revived, fable was +resuscitated. The crusades had brought European mind in contact with the +Indian works which we have already described, in their Arabic dress. +Translations and imitations in the European tongues were speedily +multiplied. The "Romance of the Fox," the work of Perrot de Saint Cloud, +one of the most successful of these imitations, dates back to the +thirteenth century. It found its way into most of the northern languages, +and became a household book. It undoubtedly had great influence over the +taste of succeeding ages, shedding upon the severe and satirical wit of +the Greek and Roman literature the rich, mellow light of Asiatic poetry. +The poets of that age were not confined, however, to fables from the +Hindoo source. Marie de France, also, in the thirteenth century, +versified one hundred of the fables of Aesop, translating from an English +collection, which does not now appear to be extant. Her work is entitled +the _Ysopet_, or "Little Aesop." Other versions, with the same +title, were subsequently written. It was in 1447 that Planudes, already +referred to, wrote in Greek prose a collection of fables, prefacing it +with a life of Aesop, which, for a long time, passed for the veritable +work of that ancient. In the next century, Abstemius wrote two hundred +fables in Latin prose, partly of modern, but chiefly of ancient +invention. At this time, the vulgar languages had undergone so great +changes, that works in them of two or three centuries old could not be +understood, and, consequently, the Latin became the favourite language of +authors. Many collections of fables were written in it, both in prose and +verse. By the art of printing these works were greatly multiplied; and +again the poets undertook the task of translating them into the language +of the people. The French led the way in this species of literature, +their language seeming to present some great advantages for it. One +hundred years before La Fontaine, Corrozet, Guillaume Gueroult, and +Philibert Hegemon, had written beautiful fables in verse, which it is +supposed La Fontaine must have read and profited by, although they had +become nearly obsolete in his time. It is a remarkable fact, that these +poetical fables should so soon have been forgotten. It was soon after +their appearance that the languages of Europe attained their full +development; and, at this epoch, prose seems to have been universally +preferred to poetry. So strong was this preference, that Ogilby, the +Scotch fabulist, who had written a collection of fables in English verse, +reduced them to prose on the occasion of publishing a more splendid +edition in 1668. It seems to have been the settled opinion of the critics +of that age, as it has, indeed, been stoutly maintained since, that the +ornaments of poetry only impair the force of the fable--that the Muses, +by becoming the handmaids of old Aesop, part with their own dignity +without conferring any on him. La Fontaine has made such an opinion +almost heretical. In his manner there is a perfect originality, and an +immortality every way equal to that of the matter which he gathered up +from all parts of the great storehouse of human experience. His fables +are like pure gold enveloped in solid rock-crystal. In English, a few of +the fables of Gay, of Moore, and of Cowper, may be compared with them in +some respects, but we have nothing resembling them as a whole. Gay, who +has done more than any other, though he has displayed great power of +invention, and has given his verse a flow worthy of his master, Pope, has +yet fallen far behind La Fontaine in the general management of his +materials. His fables are all beautiful poems, but few of them are +beautiful fables. His animal speakers do not sufficiently preserve their +animal characters. It is quite otherwise with La Fontaine. His beasts are +made most nicely to observe all the proprieties not only of the scene in +which they are called to speak, but of the great drama into which they +are from time to time introduced. His work constitutes an harmonious +whole. To those who read it in the original, it is one of the few which +never cloy the appetite. As in the poetry of Burns, you are apt to think +the last verse you read of him the best. + +But the main object of this Preface was to give a few traces of the life +and literary career of our poet. A remarkable poet cannot but have been a +remarkable man. Suppose we take a man with native benevolence amounting +almost to folly; but little cunning, caution, or veneration; good +perceptive, but better reflective faculties; and a dominant love of the +beautiful;--and toss him into the focus of civilization in the age of +Louis XIV. It is an interesting problem to find out what will become of +him. Such is the problem worked out in the life of JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, +born on the eighth of July, 1621, at Chateau-Thierry. His father, a man +of some substance and station, committed two blunders in disposing of his +son. First, he encouraged him to seek an education for ecclesiastical +life, which was evidently unsuited to his disposition. Second, he brought +about his marriage with a woman who was unfitted to secure his +affections, or to manage his domestic affairs. In one other point he was +not so much mistaken: he laboured unremittingly to make his son a poet. +Jean was a backward boy, and showed not the least spark of poetical +genius till his twenty-second year. His poetical genius did not ripen +till long after that time. But his father lived to see him all, and more +than all, that he had ever hoped.[4] + +[4] The Translator in his sixth edition replaced the next paragraph by + the following remarks:--"The case is apparently, and only apparently, + an exception to the old rule _Poeta nascitur, orator fit_--the + poet is born, the orator is made. The truth is, without exception, + that every poet is born such; and many are born such of whose poetry + the world knows nothing. Every known poet is also somewhat an + orator; and as to this part of his character, he is made. And many + are known as poets who are altogether made; they are mere + second-hand, or orator poets, and are quite intolerable unless + exceedingly well made, which is, unfortunately, seldom the case. It + would be wise in them to busy themselves as mere translators. Every + one who is born with propensities to love and wonder too strong and + deep to be worn off by repetition or continuance,--in other words, + who is born to be always young,--is born a poet. The other + requisites he has of course. Upon him the making will never be lost. + The richest gems do most honour to their polishing. But they are + gems without any. So there are men who pass through the world with + their souls full of poetry, who would not believe you if you were to + tell them so. Happy for them is their ignorance, perhaps. La + Fontaine came near being one of them. All that is artificial in + poetry to him came late and with difficulty. Yet it resulted from + his keen relish of nature, that he was never satisfied with his art + of verse till he had brought it to the confines of perfection. He + did not philosophize over the animals; he sympathized with them. A + philosopher would not have lost a fashionable dinner in his + admiration of a common ant-hill. La Fontaine did so once, because + the well-known little community was engaged in what he took to be a + funeral. He could not in decency leave them till it was over. + Verse-making out of the question, this was to be a genuine poet, + though, with commonplace mortals, it was also to be a fool." + +But we will first, in few words, despatch the worst--for there is a very +bad part--of his life. It was not specially _his_ life; it was the +life of the age in which he lived. The man of strong amorous +propensities, in that age and country, who was, nevertheless, faithful to +vows of either marriage or celibacy,--the latter vows then proved sadly +dangerous to the former,--may be regarded as a miracle. La Fontaine, +without any agency of his own affections, found himself married at the +age of twenty-six, while yet as immature as most men are at sixteen. The +upshot was, that his patrimony dwindled; and, though he lived many years +with his wife, and had a son, he neglected her more and more, till at +last he forgot that he had been married, though he unfortunately did not +forget that there were other women in the world besides his wife. His +genius and benevolence gained him friends everywhere with both sexes, who +never suffered him to want, and who had never cause to complain of his +ingratitude. But he was always the special favourite of the Aspasias who +ruled France and her kings. To please them, he wrote a great deal of fine +poetry, much of which deserves to be everlastingly forgotten. It must be +said for him, that his vice became conspicuous only in the light of one +of his virtues. His frankness would never allow concealment. He +scandalized his friends Boileau and Racine; still, it is matter of doubt +whether they did not excel him rather in prudence than in purity. But, +whatever may be said in palliation, it is lamentable to think that a +heaven-lighted genius should have been made, in any way, to minister to a +hell-envenomed vice, which has caused unutterable woes to France and the +world. Some time before he died, he repented bitterly of this part of his +course, and laboured, no doubt sincerely, to repair the mischiefs he had +done. + +As we have already said, Jean was a backward boy. But, under a dull +exterior, the mental machinery was working splendidly within. He lacked +all that outside care and prudence,--that constant looking out for +breakers,--which obstruct the growth and ripening of the reflective +faculties. The vulgar, by a queer mistake, call a man _absent-minded_, +when his mind shuts the door, pulls in the latch-string, and is +wholly at home. La Fontaine's mind was exceedingly domestic. It was +nowhere but at home when, riding from Paris to Chateau-Thierry, a bundle +of papers fell from his saddle-bow without his perceiving it. The +mail-carrier, coming behind him, picked it up, and overtaking La +Fontaine, asked him if he had lost anything. "Certainly not," he replied, +looking about him with great surprise. "Well, I have just picked up these +papers," rejoined the other. "Ah! they are mine," cried La Fontaine; +"they involve my whole estate." And he eagerly reached to take them. On +another occasion he was equally at home. Stopping on a journey, he +ordered dinner at an hotel, and then took a ramble about the town. On his +return, he entered another hotel, and, passing through into the garden, +took from his pocket a copy of Livy, in which he quietly set himself to +read till his dinner should be ready. The book made him forget his +appetite, till a servant informed him of his mistake, and he returned to +his hotel just in time to pay his bill and proceed on his journey. + +It will be perceived that he took the world quietly, and his doing so +undoubtedly had important bearings on his style. We give another +anecdote, which illustrates this peculiarity of his mind as well as the +superlative folly of duelling. Not long after his marriage, with all his +indifference to his wife, he was persuaded into a fit of singular +jealousy. He was intimate with an ex-captain of dragoons, by name +Poignant, who had retired to Chateau-Thierry; a frank, open-hearted man, +but of extremely little gallantry. Whenever Poignant was not at his inn, +he was at La Fontaine's, and consequently with his wife, when he himself +was not at home. Some person took it in his head to ask La Fontaine why +he suffered these constant visits. "And why," said La Fontaine, "should I +not? He is my best friend." "The public think otherwise," was the reply; +"they say that he comes for the sake of Madame La Fontaine." "The public +is mistaken; but what must I do in the case?" said the poet. "You must +demand satisfaction, sword in hand, of one who has dishonoured you." +"Very well," said La Fontaine, "I will demand it." The next day he called +on Poignant, at four o'clock in the morning, and found him in bed. +"Rise," said he, "and come out with me!" His friend asked him what was +the matter, and what pressing business had brought him so early in the +morning. "I shall let you know," replied La Fontaine, "when we get +abroad." Poignant, in great astonishment, rose, followed him out, and +asked whither he was leading. "You shall know by-and-by," replied La +Fontaine; and at last, when they had reached a retired place, he said, +"My friend, we must fight." Poignant, still more surprised, sought to +know in what he had offended him, and moreover represented to him that +they were not on equal terms. "I am a man of war," said he, "while, as +for you, you have never drawn a sword." "No matter," said La Fontaine; +"the public requires that I should fight you." Poignant, after having +resisted in vain, at last drew his sword, and, having easily made himself +master of La Fontaine's, demanded the cause of the quarrel. "The public +maintains," said La Fontaine, "that you come to my house daily, not for +my sake, but my wife's." "Ah! my friend," replied the other, "I should +never have suspected that was the cause of your displeasure, and I +protest I will never again put a foot within your doors." "On the +contrary," replied La Fontaine, seizing him by the hand, "I have +satisfied the public, and now you must come to my house, every day, or I +will fight you again." The two antagonists returned, and breakfasted +together in good-humour. + +It was not, as we have said, till his twenty-second year, that La +Fontaine showed any taste for poetry. The occasion was this:--An officer, +in winter-quarters at Chateau-Thierry, one day read to him, with great +spirit, an ode of Malherbe, beginning thus-- + + + + Que direz-vous, races futures, + Si quelquefois un vrai discours + Vous récite les aventures + De nos abominables jours? + +Or, as we might paraphrase it,-- + + What will ye say, ye future days, + If I, for once, in honest rhymes, + Recount to you the deeds and ways + Of our abominable times? + +La Fontaine listened with involuntary transports of joy, admiration, and +astonishment, as if a man born with a genius for music, but brought up in +a desert, had for the first time heard a well-played instrument. He set +himself immediately to reading Malherbe, passed his nights in learning +his verses by heart, and his days in declaiming them in solitary places. +He also read Voiture, and began to write verses in imitation. Happily, at +this period, a relative named Pintrel directed his attention to ancient +literature, and advised him to make himself familiar with Horace, Homer, +Virgil, Terence, and Quinctilian. He accepted this counsel. M. de +Maucroix, another of his friends, who cultivated poetry with success, +also contributed to confirm his taste for the ancient models. His great +delight, however, was to read Plato and Plutarch, which he did only +through translations. The copies which he used are said to bear his +manuscript notes on almost every page, and these notes are the maxims +which are to be found in his fables. Returning from this study of the +ancients, he read the moderns with more discrimination. His favourites, +besides Malherbe, were Corneille, Rabelais, and Marot. In Italian, he +read Ariosto, Boccaccio, and Machiavel. In 1654 he published his first +work, a translation of the _Eunuch_ of Terence. It met with no +success. But this does not seem at all to have disturbed its author. He +cultivated verse-making with as much ardour and good-humour as ever; and +his verses soon began to be admired in the circle of his friends. No man +had ever more devoted friends. Verses that have cost thought are not +relished without thought. When a genius appears, it takes some little +time for the world to educate itself to a knowledge of the fact. By one +of his friends, La Fontaine was introduced to Fouquet, the minister of +finance, a man of great power, and who rivalled his sovereign in wealth +and luxury. It was his pride to be the patron of literary men, and he was +pleased to make La Fontaine his poet, settling on him a pension of one +thousand francs per annum, on condition that he should produce a piece in +verse each quarter,--a condition which was exactly complied with till the +fall of the minister. + +Fouquet was a most splendid villain, and positively, though perhaps not +comparatively, deserved to fall. But it was enough for La Fontaine that +Fouquet had done him a kindness. He took the part of the disgraced +minister, without counting the cost. His "Elegy to the nymphs of Vaux" +was a shield to the fallen man, and turned popular hatred into sympathy. +The good-hearted poet rejoiced exceedingly in its success. _Bon-homme_ +was the appellation which his friends pleasantly gave him, and by +which he became known everywhere;--and never did a man better deserve it +in its best sense. He was good by nature--not by the calculation of +consequences. Indeed it does not seem ever to have occurred to him that +kindness, gratitude, and truth, could have any other than good +consequences. He was truly a Frenchman without guile, and possessed to +perfection that comfortable trait,--in which French character is commonly +allowed to excel the English,--_good-humour_ with the whole world. + +La Fontaine was the intimate friend of Molière, Boileau, and Racine. +Molière had already established a reputation; but the others became known +to the world at the same time. Boileau hired a small chamber in the +Faubourg Saint Germain, where they all met several times a week; for La +Fontaine, at the age of forty-four, had left Chateau-Thierry, and become +a citizen of Paris. Here they discussed all sorts of topics, admitting to +their society Chapelle, a man of less genius, but of greater +conversational powers, than either of them--a sort of connecting link +between them and the world. Four poets, or four men, could hardly have +been more unlike. Boileau was blustering, blunt, peremptory, but honest +and frank; Racine, of a pleasant and tranquil gaiety, but mischievous and +sarcastic; Molière was naturally considerate, pensive, and melancholy; La +Fontaine was often absent-minded, but sometimes exceedingly jovial, +delighting with his sallies, his witty _naïvetés_, and his arch +simplicity. These meetings, which no doubt had a great influence upon +French literature, La Fontaine, in one of his prefaces, thus +describes:--"Four friends, whose acquaintance had begun at the foot of +Parnassus, held a sort of society, which I should call an Academy, if +their number had been sufficiently great, and if they had had as much +regard for the Muses as for pleasure. The first thing which they did was +to banish from among them all rules of conversation, and everything which +savours of the academic conference. When they met, and had sufficiently +discussed their amusements, if chance threw them upon any point of +science or belles-lettres, they profited by the occasion; it was, +however, without dwelling too long on the same subject, flitting from one +thing to another like the bees that meet divers sorts of flowers on their +way. Neither envy, malice, nor cabal, had any voice among them. They +adored the works of the ancients, never refused due praise to those of +the moderns, spoke modestly of their own, and gave each other sincere +counsel, when any one of them--which rarely happened--fell into the +malady of the age, and published a book." + +The absent-mindedness of our fabulist not unfrequently created much +amusement on these occasions, and made him the object of mirthful +conspiracies. So keenly was the game pursued by Boileau and Racine, that +the more considerate Molière felt obliged sometimes to expose and rebuke +them. Once, after having done so, he privately told a stranger, who was +present with them, the wits would have worried themselves in vain; they +could not have obliterated the _bon-homme_. + +La Fontaine, as we have said, was an admirer of Rabelais;--to what a +pitch, the following anecdote may show. At one of the meetings at +Boileau's were present Racine, Valincourt, and a brother of Boileau's, a +doctor of the Sorbonne. The latter took it upon him to set forth the +merits of St. Augustin in a pompous eulogium. La Fontaine, plunged in one +of his habitual reveries, listened without hearing. At last, rousing +himself as if from a profound sleep, to prove that the conversation had +not been lost upon him, he asked the doctor, with a very serious air, +whether he thought St. Augustin had as much wit as Rabelais. The divine, +surprised, looked at him from head to foot, and only replied, "Take care, +Monsieur La Fontaine;--you have put one of your stockings on wrong side +outwards"--which was the fact. + +It was in 1668 that La Fontaine published his first collection of fables, +under the modest title _Fables Choisies, mises en Vers_, in a quarto +volume, with figures designed and engraved by Chauveau. It contained six +books, and was dedicated to the Dauphin. Many of the fables had already +been published in a separate form. The success of this collection was so +great, that it was reprinted the same year in a smaller size. Fables had +come to be regarded as beneath poetry; La Fontaine established them at +once on the top of Parnassus. The ablest poets of his age did not think +it beneath them to enter the lists with him; and it is needless to say +they came off second best. + +One of the fables of the first book is addressed to the Duke de la +Rochefoucauld, and was the consequence of a friendship between La +Fontaine and the author of the celebrated "Maxims." Connected with the +duke was Madame La Fayette, one of the most learned and ingenious women +of her age, who consequently became the admirer and friend of the +fabulist. To her he wrote verses abundantly, as he did to all who made +him the object of their kind regard. Indeed, notwithstanding his avowed +indolence, or rather passion for quiet and sleep, his pen was very +productive. In 1669, he published "Psyché," a romance in prose and verse, +which he dedicated to the Duchess de Bouillon, in gratitude for many +kindnesses. The prose is said to be better than the verse; but this can +hardly be true in respect to the following lines, in which the poet under +the apt name of Polyphile, in a hymn addressed to Pleasure, undoubtedly +sketches himself:-- + + + Volupté, Volupté, qui fus jadis maîtresse + Du plus bel esprit de la Grèce, + Ne me dédaigne pas; viens-t'en loger chez moi: + Tu n'y seras pas sans emploi: + J'aime le jeu, l'amour, les livres, la musique, + La ville et la campagne, enfin tout; il n'est rien + Qui ne me soit souverain bien, + Jusqu'au sombre plaisir d'un coeur mélancolique. + Viens donc.... + +The characteristic grace and playfulness of this seem to defy +translation. To the mere English reader, the sense may be roughly given +thus:-- + + Delight, Delight, who didst as mistress hold + The finest wit of Grecian mould, + Disdain not me; but come, + And make my house thy home. + Thou shalt not be without employ: + In play, love, music, books, I joy, + In town and country; and, indeed, there's nought, + E'en to the luxury of sober thought,-- + The sombre, melancholy mood,-- + But brings to me the sovereign good. + Come, then, &c. + +The same Polyphile, in recounting his adventures on a visit to the +infernal regions, tells us that he saw, in the hands of the cruel +Eumenides, + + ------Les auteurs de maint hymen forcé + L'amant chiche, et la dame au coeur intéressé; + La troupe des censeurs, peuple à l'Amour rebelle; + Ceux enfin dont les vers ont noirci quelque belle. + + ------Artificers of many a loveless match, + And lovers who but sought the pence to catch; + The crew censorious, rebels against Love; + And those whose verses soiled the fair above. + +To be "rebels against Love" was quite unpardonable with La Fontaine; and +to bring about a "_hymen forcé_" was a crime, of which he probably +spoke with some personal feeling. The great popularity of "Psyché" +encouraged the author to publish two volumes of poems and tales in 1671, +in which were contained several new fables. The celebrated Madame de +Sévigné thus speaks of these fables, in one of her letters to her +daughter:--"But have you not admired the beauty of the five or six fables +of La Fontaine contained in one of the volumes which I sent you? We were +charmed with them the other day at M. de la Rochefoucauld's: we got by +art that of the Monkey and the Cat." Then, quoting some lines, she +adds,--"This is painting! And the Pumpkin--and the Nightingale--they are +worthy of the first volume!" It was in his stories that La Fontaine +excelled; and Madame de Sévigné expresses a wish to invent a fable which +would impress upon him the folly of leaving his peculiar province. He +seemed himself not insensible where his strength lay, and seldom ventured +upon any other ground, except at the instance of his friends. With all +his lightness, he felt a deep veneration for religion--the most spiritual +and rigid which came within the circle of his immediate acquaintance. He +admired Jansenius and the Port Royalists, and heartily loved Racine, who +was of their faith. Count Henri-Louis de Loménie, of Brienne,--who, after +being secretary of state, had retired to the Oratoire,--was engaged in +bringing out a better collection of Christian lyrics. To this work he +pressed La Fontaine, whom he called his particular friend, to lend his +name and contributions. Thus the author of "Psyché," "Adonis," and +"Joconde," was led to the composition of pious hymns, and versifications +of the Psalms of David. Gifted by nature with the utmost frankness of +disposition, he sympathized fully with Arnauld and Pascal in the war +against the Jesuits; and it would seem, from his _Ballade sur Escobar_, +that he had read and relished the "Provincial Letters." This +ballad, as it may be a curiosity to many, shall be given entire:-- + +BALLADE SUR ESCOBAR. + + C'est à bon droit que l'on condamne à Rome + L'évêque d'Ypré [5], auteur de vains débats; + Ses sectateurs nous défendent en somme + Tous les plaisirs que l'on goûte ici-bas. + En paradis allant au petit pas, + On y parvient, quoi qu'ARNAULD [6] nous en die: + La volupté sans cause il a bannie. + Veut-on monter sur les célestes tours, + Chemin pierreux est grande rêverie, + ESCOBAR [7] sait un chemin de velours. + + Il ne dit pas qu'on peut tuer un homme + Qui sans raison nous tient en altercas + Pour un fêtu ou bien pour une pomme; + Mais qu'on le peut pour quatre ou cinq ducats. + Même il soutient qu'on peut en certains cas + Faire un serment plein de supercherie, + S'abandonner aux douceurs de la vie, + S'il est besoin conserver ses amours. + Ne faut-il pas après cela qu'on crie: + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours? + + Au nom de Dieu, lisez-moi quelque somme + De ces écrits don't chez lui l'on fait cas. + Qu'est-il besoin qu'à present je les nomme? + II en est tant qu'on ne les connoît pas. + De leurs avis servez-vous pour compas; + N'admettez qu'eux en votre librairie; + Brûlez ARNAULD avec sa côterie, + Près d'ESCOBAR ce ne sont qu'esprits lourds. + Je vous le dis: ce n'est point raillerie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. + + ENVOI. + + Toi, que l'orgueil poussa dans la voirie, + Qui tiens là-bas noire concièrgerie, + Lucifer, chef des infernales cours, + Pour éviter les traits de ta furie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. + +[5] _Corneille Jansenius_,--the originator of the sect called + Jansenists. Though he was bishop of Ypres, his chief work, + "Augustinus," and his doctrines generally, were condemned by Popes + Urban VIII. and Innocent X., as heretical (1641 and 1653).--Ed. +[6] _Arnauld_.--This was Antoine Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, + and one of the Arnaulds famous among the Port Royalists, who were + Jansenists in opposition to the Jesuits. He was born in 1612, and + died a voluntary exile in Belgium, 1694. Boileau wrote his + epitaph.--Ed. +[7] _Escobar_.--A Spanish Jesuit, who flourished mostly in France, + and wrote against the Jansenists. Pascal, as well as La Fontaine, + ridiculed his convenient principles of morality, he "chemin de + velours," as La Fontaine puts it. His chief work in moral theology + was published in seven vols., folio, at Lyons, 1652-1663. He died in + 1669.--Ed. + +Thus does the _Bon-homme_ treat the subtle Escobar, the prince and +prototype of the moralists of _expediency_. To translate his artless +and delicate irony is hardly possible. The writer of this hasty Preface +offers the following only as an attempted imitation:-- + +BALLAD UPON ESCOBAR. + + Good cause has Rome to reprobate + The bishop who disputes her so; + His followers reject and hate + All pleasures that we taste below. + To heaven an easy pace may go, + Whatever crazy ARNAULD saith, + Who aims at pleasure causeless wrath. + Seek we the better world afar? + We're fools to choose the rugged path: + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + Although he does not say you can, + Should one with you for nothing strive, + Or for a trifle, kill the man-- + You can for ducats four or five. + Indeed, if circumstances drive, + Defraud, or take false oaths you may, + Or to the charms of life give way, + When Love must needs the door unbar. + Henceforth must not the pilgrim say, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR? + + Now, would to God that one would state + The pith of all his works to me. + What boots it to enumerate? + As well attempt to drain the sea!-- + Your chart and compass let them be; + All other books put under ban; + Burn ARNAULD and his rigid clan-- + They're blockheads if we but compare;-- + It is no joke,--I tell you, man, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + ADDRESS. + + Thou warden of the prison black, + Who didst on heaven turn thy back, + The chieftain of th' infernal war! + To shun thy arrows and thy rack, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + +The verses of La Fontaine did more for his reputation than for his purse. +His paternal estate wasted away under his carelessness; for, when the +ends of the year refused to meet, he sold a piece of land sufficient to +make them do so. His wife, no better qualified to manage worldly gear +than himself, probably lived on her family friends, who were able to +support her, and who seem to have done so without blaming him. She had +lived with him in Paris for some time after that city became his +abode; but, tiring at length of the city life, she had returned at +Château-Thierry, and occupied the family mansion. At the earnest +expostulation of Boileau and Racine, who wished to make him a better +husband, he returned to Château-Thierry himself, in 1666, for the purpose +of becoming reconciled to his wife. But his purpose strangely vanished. +He called at his own house, learned from the domestic, who did not know +him, that Madame La Fontaine was in good health, and passed on to the +house of a friend, where he tarried two days, and then returned to Paris +without having seen his wife. When his friends inquired of him his +success, with some confusion he replied, "I have been to see her, but I +did not find her: she was well." Twenty years after that, Racine +prevailed on him to visit his patrimonial estate, to take some care of +what remained. Racine, not hearing from him, sent to know what he was +about, when La Fontaine wrote as follows:--"Poignant, on his return from +Paris, told me that you took my silence in very bad part; the worse, +because you had been told that I have been incessantly at work since my +arrival at Château-Thierry, and that, instead of applying myself to my +affairs, I have had nothing in my head but verses. All this is no more +than half true: my affairs occupy me as much as they deserve to--that is +to say not at all; but the leisure which they leave me--it is not poetry, +but idleness, which makes away with it." On a certain occasion, in the +earlier part of his life, when pressed in regard to his improvidence, he +gaily produced the following epigram, which has commonly been appended to +his fables as "The Epitaph of La Fontaine, written by Himself":-- + + Jean s'en alla comme il était venu, + Mangea le fonds avec le revenu, + Tint les trésors chose peu nécessaire. + Quant à son temps, bien sut le dispenser: + Deux parts en fit, don't il soûloit passer + L'urie à dormir, et l'autre à ne rien faire. + +This confession, the immortality of which was so little foreseen by its +author, liberally rendered, amounts to the following:-- + + John went as he came--ate his farm with its fruits, + Held treasure to be but the cause of disputes; + And, as to his time, be it frankly confessed, + Divided it daily as suited him best,-- + Gave a part to his sleep, and to nothing the rest. + +It is clear that a man who provided so little for himself needed good +friends to do it; and Heaven kindly furnished them. When his affairs +began to be straitened, he was invited by the celebrated Madame de la +Sablière to make her house his home; and there, in fact, he was +thoroughly domiciliated for twenty years. "I have sent away all my +domestics," said that lady, one day; "I have kept only my dog, my cat, +and La Fontaine." She was, perhaps, the best-educated woman in France, +was the mistress of several languages, knew Horace and Virgil by heart, +and had been thoroughly indoctrinated in all the sciences by the ablest +masters. Her husband, M. Rambouillet de la Sablière, was secretary to the +king, and register of domains, and to immense wealth united considerable +poetical talents, with a thorough knowledge of the world. It was the will +of Madame de la Sablière, that her favourite poet should have no further +care for his external wants; and never was a mortal more perfectly +resigned. He did all honour to the sincerity of his amiable hostess; and, +if he ever showed a want of independence, he certainly did not of +gratitude. Compliments of more touching tenderness we nowhere meet than +those which La Fontaine has paid to his benefactress. He published +nothing which was not first submitted to her eye, and entered into her +affairs and friendships with all his heart. Her unbounded confidence in +his integrity she expressed by saying, "La Fontaine never lies in +prose." By her death, in 1693, our fabulist was left without a home; but +his many friends vied with each other which should next furnish one. He +was then seventy-two years of age, had turned his attention to personal +religion, and received the seal of conversion at the hands of the Roman +Catholic church. In his conversion, as in the rest of his life, his +frankness left no room to doubt his sincerity. The writings which had +justly given offence to the good were made the subject of a public +confession, and everything in his power was done to prevent their +circulation. The death of one who had done so much for him, and whose +last days, devoted with the most self-denying benevolence to the welfare +of her species, had taught him a most salutary lesson, could not but be +deeply felt. He had just left the house of his deceased benefactress, +never again to enter it, when he met M. d'Hervart in the street, who +eagerly said to him, "My dear La Fontaine, I was looking for you, to beg +you to come and take lodgings in my house." "I was going thither," +replied La Fontaine. A reply could not have more characteristic. The +fabulist had not in him sufficient hypocrisy of which to manufacture the +commonplace politeness of society. His was the politeness of a warm and +unsuspecting heart. He never concealed his confidence in the fear that it +might turn out to be misplaced. + +His second collection of fables, containing five books, La Fontaine +published in 1678-9, with a dedication to Madame de Montespan; the +previous six books were republished at the same time, revised, and +enlarged. The twelfth book was not added till many years after, and +proved, in fact, the song of the dying swan. It was written for the +special use of the young Duke de Bourgogne, the royal pupil of Fénélon, +to whom it contains frequent allusions. The eleven books now published +sealed the reputation of La Fontaine, and were received with +distinguished regard by the king, who appended to the ordinary protocol +or imprimatur for publication the following reasons: "in order to testify +to the author the esteem we have for his person and his merit, and +because youth have received great advantage in their education from the +fables selected and put in verse, which he has heretofore published." The +author was, moreover, permitted to present his book in person to the +sovereign. For this purpose he repaired to Versailles, and after having +well delivered himself of his compliment to royalty, perceived that he +had forgotten to bring the book which he was to present; he was, +nevertheless, favourably received, and loaded with presents. But it is +added, that, on his return, he also lost, by his absence of mind, the +purse full of gold which the king had given him, which was happily found +under a cushion of the carriage in which he rode. + +In his advertisement to the second part of his Fables, La Fontaine +informs the reader that he had treated his subjects in a somewhat +different style. In fact, in his first collection, he had timidly +confined himself to the brevity of Aesop and Phaedrus; but, having +observed that those fables were most popular in which he had given most +scope to his own genius, he threw off the trammels in the second +collection, and, in the opinion of the writer, much for the better. His +subjects, too, in the second part, are frequently derived from the Indian +fabulists, and bring with them the richness and dramatic interest of the +_Hitopadesa_. + +Of all his fables, the Oak and the Reed is said to have been the +favourite of La Fontaine. But his critics have almost unanimously given +the palm of excellence to the Animals sick of the Plague, the first of +the seventh book. Its exquisite poetry, the perfection of its dialogue, +and the weight of its moral, well entitle it to the place. That must have +been a soul replete with honesty, which could read such a lesson in the +ears of a proud and oppressive court. Indeed, we may look in vain through +this encyclopaedia of fable for a sentiment which goes to justify the +strong in their oppression of the weak. Even in the midst of the fulsome +compliments which it was the fashion of his age to pay to royalty, La +Fontaine maintains a reserve and decency peculiar to himself. By an +examination of his fables, we think, we might fairly establish for him +the character of an honest and disinterested lover and respecter of his +species. In his fable entitled Death and the Dying, he unites the genius +of Pascal and Molière; in that of the Two Doves is a tenderness quite +peculiar to himself, and an insight into the heart worthy of Shakspeare. +In his Mogul's Dream are sentiments worthy of the very high-priest of +nature, and expressed in his own native tongue with a felicity which +makes the translator feel that all his labours are but vanity and +vexation of spirit. But it is not the purpose of this brief Preface to +criticize the Fables. It is sufficient to say, that the work occupies a +position in French literature, which, after all has been said that can be +for Gay, Moore, and other English versifiers of fables, is left quite +vacant in ours. + +Our author was elected a member of the French Academy in 1684, and +received with the honour of a public session. He read on this occasion a +poem of exquisite beauty, addressed to his benefactress, Madame de la +Sablière. In that distinguished body of men he was a universal favourite, +and none, perhaps, did more to promote its prime object--the improvement +of the French language. We have already seen how he was regarded by some +of the greatest minds of his age. Voltaire, who never did more than +justice to merit other than his own, said of the Fables, "I hardly know a +book which more abounds with charms adapted to the people, and at the +same time to persons of refined taste. I believe that, of all authors, La +Fontaine is the most universally read. He is for all minds and all +ages." La Bruyère, when admitted to the Academy, in 1693, was warmly +applauded for his _éloge_ upon La Fontaine, which contained the +following words:--"More equal than Marot, and more poetical than Voiture, +La Fontaine has the playfulness, felicity, and artlessness of both. He +instructs while he sports, persuades men to virtue by means of beasts, +and exalts trifling subjects to the sublime; a man unique in his species +of composition, always original, whether he invents or translates,--who +has gone beyond his models, himself a model hard to imitate." + +La Fontaine, as we have said, devoted his latter days to religion. In +this he was sustained and cheered by his old friends Racine and De +Maucroix. Death overtook him while applying his poetical powers to the +hymns of the church. To De Maucroix he wrote, a little before his +death,--"I assure you that the best of your friends cannot count upon +more than fifteen days of life. For these two months I have not gone +abroad, except occasionally to attend the Academy, for a little +amusement. Yesterday, as I was returning from it, in the middle of the +Rue du Chantre, I was taken with such a faintness that I really thought +myself dying. O, my friend, to die is nothing: but think you how I am +going to appear before God! You know how I have lived. Before you receive +this billet, the gates of eternity will perhaps have been opened upon +me!" To this, a few days after, his friend replied,--"If God, in his +kindness, restores you to health, I hope you will come and spend the rest +of your life with me, and we shall often talk together of the mercies of +God. If, however, you have not strength to write, beg M. Racine to do me +that kindness, the greatest he can ever do for me. Adieu, my good, my +old, and my true friend. May God, in his infinite, goodness, take care of +the health of your body, and that of your soul." He died the 13th of +April, 1695, at the age of seventy-three, and was buried in the cemetery +of the Saints-Innocents. + +When Fénélon heard of his death, he wrote a Latin eulogium, which he gave +to his royal pupil to translate. "La Fontaine is no more!" said Fénélon, +in this composition; "he is no more! and with him have gone the playful +jokes, the merry laugh, the artless graces, and the sweet Muses." + + * * * * * + +THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE + + * * * * * + +To Monseigneur The Dauphin.[1] + + I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line, + Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, + Containeth truths it were not ill to teach. + With me all natures use the gift of speech; + Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach, + And to our human selves their sermons suit. + 'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute. + + Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies, + On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes, + Who hence shall count his conquests by his days, + And gather from the proudest lips his praise, + A louder voice than mine must tell in song + What virtues to thy kingly line belong. + I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes, + Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams; + And if to please thee shall not be my pride, + I'll gain at least the praise of having tried. + + +[1] This dedication prefaced La Fontaine's first collection of his + Fables, which comprised Books I. to VI., published in 1668. The + Dauphin was Louis, the only son of Louis XIV. and Marie-Thérèse of + Austria. He was born at Fontainebleau in 1661, and died at Meudon in + 1712, before his father, the "Grand Monarque," had ceased to reign. + The Dauphin being but a child, between six and seven years old, at + the time of this dedication, La Fontaine's act may be viewed rather + as an offering to the King, than to the child himself. See the + Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK I. + + +I.--THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.[1] + + A Grasshopper gay + Sang the summer away, + And found herself poor + By the winter's first roar. + Of meat or of bread, + Not a morsel she had! + So a begging she went, + To her neighbour the ant, + For the loan of some wheat, + Which would serve her to eat, + Till the season came round. + 'I will pay you,' she saith, + 'On an animal's faith, + Double weight in the pound + Ere the harvest be bound.' + The ant is a friend + (And here she might mend) + Little given to lend. + 'How spent you the summer?' + Quoth she, looking shame + At the borrowing dame. + 'Night and day to each comer + I sang, if you please.' + 'You sang! I'm at ease; + For 'tis plain at a glance, + Now, ma'am, you must dance.' + +[1] For the story of this fable, as for the stories of so many of the + fables which follow, especially in the first six books, La Fontaine + is indebted to the Father of Fable, Aesop the Phrygian. See account + of Aesop in the Translator's Preface. + + + + +II.--THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.[2] + + Perch'd on a lofty oak, + Sir Raven held a lunch of cheese; + Sir Fox, who smelt it in the breeze, + Thus to the holder spoke:-- + 'Ha! how do you do, Sir Raven? + Well, your coat, sir, is a brave one! + So black and glossy, on my word, sir, + With voice to match, you were a bird, sir, + Well fit to be the Phoenix of these days.' + Sir Raven, overset with praise, + Must show how musical his croak. + Down fell the luncheon from the oak; + Which snatching up, Sir Fox thus spoke:-- + 'The flatterer, my good sir, + Aye liveth on his listener; + Which lesson, if you please, + Is doubtless worth the cheese.' + A bit too late, Sir Raven swore + The rogue should never cheat him more. + +[2] Both Aesop and Phaedrus have a version of this fable. + + + + +III.--THE FROG THAT WISHED TO BE AS BIG AS THE OX.[3] + + The tenant of a bog, + An envious little frog, + Not bigger than an egg, + A stately bullock spies, + And, smitten with his size, + Attempts to be as big. + With earnestness and pains, + She stretches, swells, and strains, + And says, 'Sis Frog, look here! see me! + Is this enough?' 'No, no.' + 'Well, then, is this?' 'Poh! poh! + Enough! you don't begin to be.' + And thus the reptile sits, + Enlarging till she splits. + The world is full of folks + Of just such wisdom;-- + The lordly dome provokes + The cit to build his dome; + And, really, there is no telling + How much great men set little ones a swelling. + +[3] The story of this fable is given in Horace, _Satires_, II. 3, + Phaedrus and Corrozet have also versions of it. For an account of + Phaedrus and his Fables see the Translator's Preface. Gilles Corrozet + was one of the French fabulists immediately preceding La Fontaine. + He was a Parisian bookseller-author who lived between 1516 and 1568. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO MULES. + + Two mules were bearing on their backs, + One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.[4] + The latter glorying in his load, + March'd proudly forward on the road; + And, from the jingle of his bell, + 'Twas plain he liked his burden well. + But in a wild-wood glen + A band of robber men + Rush'd forth upon the twain. + Well with the silver pleased, + They by the bridle seized + The treasure-mule so vain. + Poor mule! in struggling to repel + His ruthless foes, he fell + Stabb'd through; and with a bitter sighing, + He cried, 'Is this the lot they promised me? + My humble friend from danger free, + While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying?' + 'My friend,' his fellow-mule replied, + 'It is not well to have one's work too high. + If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I, + Thou wouldst not thus have died.' + +[4] _The silver of the tax_.--An allusion to the French _gabelle_, or + old salt tax, which, like all taxes levied upon the mass of the + people, was a very productive one. Its collection caused several + peasants' insurrections. + + + + +V.--THE WOLF AND THE DOG.[5] + + A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin + (So strict the watch of dogs had been) + Hid little but his bones, + Once met a mastiff dog astray. + A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray, + No human mortal owns. + Sir Wolf in famish'd plight, + Would fain have made a ration + Upon his fat relation; + But then he first must fight; + And well the dog seem'd able + To save from wolfish table + His carcass snug and tight. + So, then, in civil conversation + The wolf express'd his admiration + Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely, + 'Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly; + Quit but the woods, advised by me. + For all your fellows here, I see, + Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, + Belike to die of haggard want. + With such a pack, of course it follows, + One fights for every bit he swallows. + Come, then, with me, and share + On equal terms our princely fare.' + 'But what with you + Has one to do?' + Inquires the wolf. 'Light work indeed,' + Replies the dog; 'you only need + To bark a little now and then, + To chase off duns and beggar men, + To fawn on friends that come or go forth, + Your master please, and so forth; + For which you have to eat + All sorts of well-cook'd meat-- + Cold pullets, pigeons, savoury messes-- + Besides unnumber'd fond caresses.' + The wolf, by force of appetite, + Accepts the terms outright, + Tears glistening in his eyes. + But faring on, he spies + A gall'd spot on the mastiff's neck. + 'What's that?' he cries. 'O, nothing but a speck.' + 'A speck?' 'Ay, ay; 'tis not enough to pain me; + Perhaps the collar's mark by which they chain me.' + 'Chain! chain you! What! run you not, then, + Just where you please, and when?' + 'Not always, sir; but what of that?' + 'Enough for me, to spoil your fat! + It ought to be a precious price + Which could to servile chains entice; + For me, I'll shun them while I've wit.' + So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet. + +[5] Phaedrus, III. 7.--The references to the Fables of Phaedrus are to + Bohn's edition, which is from the critical edition of Orellius, 1831. + + + + +VI.--THE HEIFER, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP, IN COMPANY WITH THE LION.[6] + + The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep, + Compacted their earnings in common to keep, + 'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd + Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade. + The goat, as it happen'd, a stag having snared, + Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared. + All gather'd; the lion first counts on his claws, + And says, 'We'll proceed to divide with our paws + The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws.' + This done, he announces part first as his own; + ''Tis mine,' he says, 'truly, as lion alone.' + To such a decision there's nought to be said, + As he who has made it is doubtless the head. + 'Well, also, the second to me should belong; + 'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong. + Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine. + To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign, + I'll choke him to death + In the space of a breath!' + +[6] Phaedrus, I. 5. From this fable come the French proverbial + expression, _la part du lion_, and its English equivalent, the + "lion's share." + + + + +VII.--THE WALLET.[7] + + From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, + 'Let all that live before my throne appear, + And there if any one hath aught to blame, + In matter, form, or texture of his frame, + He may bring forth his grievance without fear. + Redress shall instantly be given to each. + Come, monkey, now, first let us have your speech. + You see these quadrupeds, your brothers; + Comparing, then, yourself with others, + Are you well satisfied?' 'And wherefore not?' + Says Jock. 'Haven't I four trotters with the rest? + Is not my visage comely as the best? + But this my brother Bruin, is a blot + On thy creation fair; + And sooner than be painted I'd be shot, + Were I, great sire, a bear.' + The bear approaching, doth he make complaint? + Not he;--himself he lauds without restraint. + The elephant he needs must criticize; + To crop his ears and stretch his tail were wise; + A creature he of huge, misshapen size. + The elephant, though famed as beast judicious, + While on his own account he had no wishes, + Pronounced dame whale too big to suit his taste; + Of flesh and fat she was a perfect waste. + The little ant, again, pronounced the gnat too wee; + To such a speck, a vast colossus she. + Each censured by the rest, himself content, + Back to their homes all living things were sent. + Such folly liveth yet with human fools. + For others lynxes, for ourselves but moles. + Great blemishes in other men we spy, + Which in ourselves we pass most kindly by. + As in this world we're but way-farers, + Kind Heaven has made us wallet-bearers. + The pouch behind our own defects must store, + The faults of others lodge in that before. + +[7] One of Aesop's: Phaedrus also gives it, Book IV. 10. + + + + +VIII.--THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.[8] + + By voyages in air, + With constant thought and care, + Much knowledge had a swallow gain'd, + Which she for public use retain'd, + The slightest storms she well foreknew, + And told the sailors ere they blew. + A farmer sowing hemp, once having found, + She gather'd all the little birds around, + And said, 'My friends, the freedom let me take + To prophesy a little, for your sake, + Against this dangerous seed. + Though such a bird as I + Knows how to hide or fly, + You birds a caution need. + See you that waving hand? + It scatters on the land + What well may cause alarm. + 'Twill grow to nets and snares, + To catch you unawares, + And work you fatal harm! + Great multitudes I fear, + Of you, my birdies dear, + That falling seed, so little, + Will bring to cage or kettle! + But though so perilous the plot, + You now may easily defeat it: + All lighting on the seeded spot, + Just scratch up every seed and eat it.' + The little birds took little heed, + So fed were they with other seed. + Anon the field was seen + Bedeck'd in tender green. + The swallow's warning voice was heard again: + 'My friends, the product of that deadly grain, + Seize now, and pull it root by root, + Or surely you'll repent its fruit.' + 'False, babbling prophetess,' says one, + 'You'd set us at some pretty fun! + To pull this field a thousand birds are needed, + While thousands more with hemp are seeded.' + The crop now quite mature, + The swallow adds, 'Thus far I've fail'd of cure; + I've prophesied in vain + Against this fatal grain: + It's grown. And now, my bonny birds, + Though you have disbelieved my words + Thus far, take heed at last,-- + When you shall see the seed-time past, + And men, no crops to labour for, + On birds shall wage their cruel war, + With deadly net and noose; + Of flying then beware, + Unless you take the air, + Like woodcock, crane, or goose. + But stop; you're not in plight + For such adventurous flight, + O'er desert waves and sands, + In search of other lands. + Hence, then, to save your precious souls, + Remaineth but to say, + 'Twill be the safest way, + To chuck yourselves in holes.' + Before she had thus far gone, + The birdlings, tired of hearing, + And laughing more than fearing, + Set up a greater jargon + Than did, before the Trojan slaughter, + The Trojans round old Priam's daughter.[9] + And many a bird, in prison grate, + Lamented soon a Trojan fate. + + 'Tis thus we heed no instincts but our own; + Believe no evil till the evil's done. + +[8] Aesop. +[9] _Priam's daughter_.--Cassandra, who predicted the fall of Troy, and + was not heeded. + + + + +IX.--THE CITY RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.[10] + + A city rat, one night, + Did, with a civil stoop, + A country rat invite + To end a turtle soup. + + Upon a Turkey carpet + They found the table spread, + And sure I need not harp it + How well the fellows fed. + + The entertainment was + A truly noble one; + But some unlucky cause + Disturb'd it when begun. + + It was a slight rat-tat, + That put their joys to rout; + Out ran the city rat; + His guest, too, scamper'd out. + + Our rats but fairly quit, + The fearful knocking ceased. + 'Return we,' cried the cit, + To finish there our feast. + + 'No,' said the rustic rat; + 'To-morrow dine with me. + I'm not offended at + Your feast so grand and free,-- + + 'For I've no fare resembling; + But then I eat at leisure, + And would not swap, for pleasure + So mix'd with fear and trembling.' + +[10] Horace, _Satires_, II. 6: also in Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.[11] + + That innocence is not a shield, + A story teaches, not the longest. + The strongest reasons always yield + To reasons of the strongest. + + A lamb her thirst was slaking, + Once, at a mountain rill. + A hungry wolf was taking + His hunt for sheep to kill, + When, spying on the streamlet's brink + This sheep of tender age, + He howl'd in tones of rage, + 'How dare you roil my drink? + Your impudence I shall chastise!' + 'Let not your majesty,' the lamb replies, + 'Decide in haste or passion! + For sure 'tis difficult to think + In what respect or fashion + My drinking here could roil your drink, + Since on the stream your majesty now faces + I'm lower down, full twenty paces.' + 'You roil it,' said the wolf; 'and, more, I know + You cursed and slander'd me a year ago.' + 'O no! how could I such a thing have done! + A lamb that has not seen a year, + A suckling of its mother dear?' + 'Your brother then.' 'But brother I have none.' + 'Well, well, what's all the same, + 'Twas some one of your name. + Sheep, men, and dogs of every nation, + Are wont to stab my reputation, + As I have truly heard.' + Without another word, + He made his vengeance good-- + Bore off the lambkin to the wood, + And there, without a jury, + Judged, slew, and ate her in his fury. + +[11] Phaedrus, I. 1: also in Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.[12] + +To M. The Duke De La Rochefoucauld. + + A man, who had no rivals in the love + Which to himself he bore, + Esteem'd his own dear beauty far above + What earth had seen before. + More than contented in his error, + He lived the foe of every mirror. + Officious fate, resolved our lover + From such an illness should recover, + Presented always to his eyes + The mute advisers which the ladies prize;-- + Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops,-- + Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops,-- + Mirrors on every lady's zone,[13] + From which his face reflected shone. + What could our dear Narcissus do? + From haunts of men he now withdrew, + On purpose that his precious shape + From every mirror might escape. + But in his forest glen alone, + Apart from human trace, + A watercourse, + Of purest source, + While with unconscious gaze + He pierced its waveless face, + Reflected back his own. + Incensed with mingled rage and fright, + He seeks to shun the odious sight; + But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still, + He cannot leave, do what he will. + + Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see. + From such mistake there is no mortal free. + That obstinate self-lover + The human soul doth cover; + The mirrors follies are of others, + In which, as all are genuine brothers, + Each soul may see to life depicted + Itself with just such faults afflicted; + And by that charming placid brook, + Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book. + +[12] This is one of La Fontaine's most admired fables, and is one of the + few for which he did not go for the groundwork to some older + fabulist. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, to whom it was dedicated, + was the author of the famous "Reflexions et Maximes Morales," which + La Fontaine praises in the last lines of his fable. La + Rochefoucauld was La Fontaine's friend and patron. The "Maximes" + had achieved a second edition just prior to La Fontaine's + publication of this first series of his Fables, in 1668. "The + Rabbits" (Book X., Fable 15.), published in the second collection, + in 1678-9, is also dedicated to the Duke, who died the following + year, 1680. See Translator's Preface. +[13] _Lady's zone_.--One of La Fontaine's commentators remarks upon + this passage that it is no exaggeration of the foppishness of the + times in which the poet wrote, and cites the instance that the + canons of St. Martin of Tours wore mirrors on their shoes, even + while officiating in church. + + + + +XII.--THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND THE DRAGON WITH MANY TAILS.[14] + + An envoy of the Porte Sublime, + As history says, once on a time, + Before th' imperial German court[15] + Did rather boastfully report, + The troops commanded by his master's firman, + As being a stronger army than the German: + To which replied a Dutch attendant, + 'Our prince has more than one dependant + Who keeps an army at his own expense.' + The Turk, a man of sense, + Rejoin'd, 'I am aware + What power your emperor's servants share. + It brings to mind a tale both strange and true, + A thing which once, myself, I chanced to view. + I saw come darting through a hedge, + Which fortified a rocky ledge, + A hydra's hundred heads; and in a trice + My blood was turning into ice. + But less the harm than terror,-- + The body came no nearer; + Nor could, unless it had been sunder'd, + To parts at least a hundred. + While musing deeply on this sight, + Another dragon came to light, + Whose single head avails + To lead a hundred tails: + And, seized with juster fright, + I saw him pass the hedge,-- + Head, body, tails,--a wedge + Of living and resistless powers.-- + The other was your emperor's force; this ours.' + +[14] The original of this fable has been attributed to the chief who + made himself Emperor of Tartary and called himself Ghengis Khan + (b.1164, d. 1227). He is said to have applied the fable to the + Great Mogul and his innumerable dependent potentates. +[15] _German court_.--The court of the "Holy Roman Empire" is here meant. + + + + +XIII.--THE THIEVES AND THE ASS.[16] + + Two thieves, pursuing their profession, + Had of a donkey got possession, + Whereon a strife arose, + Which went from words to blows. + The question was, to sell, or not to sell; + But while our sturdy champions fought it well, + Another thief, who chanced to pass, + With ready wit rode off the ass. + + This ass is, by interpretation, + Some province poor, or prostrate nation. + The thieves are princes this and that, + On spoils and plunder prone to fat,-- + As those of Austria, Turkey, Hungary. + (Instead of two, I've quoted three-- + Enough of such commodity.) + These powers engaged in war all, + Some fourth thief stops the quarrel, + According all to one key, + By riding off the donkey. + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--SIMONIDES PRESERVED BY THE GODS.[17] + + Three sorts there are, as Malherbe[18] says, + Which one can never overpraise-- + The gods, the ladies, and the king; + And I, for one, endorse the thing. + The heart, praise tickles and entices; + Of fair one's smile, it oft the price is. + See how the gods sometimes repay it. + Simonides--the ancients say it-- + Once undertook, in poem lyric, + To write a wrestler's panegyric; + Which, ere he had proceeded far in, + He found his subject somewhat barren. + No ancestors of great renown; + His sire of some unnoted town; + Himself as little known to fame, + The wrestler's praise was rather tame. + The poet, having made the most of + Whate'er his hero had to boast of, + Digress'd, by choice that was not all luck's, + To Castor and his brother Pollux; + Whose bright career was subject ample, + For wrestlers, sure, a good example. + Our poet fatten'd on their story, + Gave every fight its place and glory, + Till of his panegyric words + These deities had got two-thirds. + All done, the poet's fee + A talent was to be. + But when he comes his bill to settle, + The wrestler, with a spice of mettle, + Pays down a third, and tells the poet, + 'The balance they may pay who owe it. + The gods than I are rather debtors + To such a pious man of letters. + But still I shall be greatly pleased + To have your presence at my feast, + Among a knot of guests select, + My kin, and friends I most respect.' + More fond of character than coffer, + Simonides accepts the offer. + While at the feast the party sit, + And wine provokes the flow of wit, + It is announced that at the gate + Two men, in haste that cannot wait, + Would see the bard. He leaves the table, + No loss at all to 'ts noisy gabble. + The men were Leda's twins, who knew + What to a poet's praise was due, + And, thanking, paid him by foretelling + The downfall of the wrestler's dwelling. + From which ill-fated pile, indeed, + No sooner was the poet freed, + Than, props and pillars failing, + Which held aloft the ceiling + So splendid o'er them, + It downward loudly crash'd, + The plates and flagons dash'd, + And men who bore them; + And, what was worse, + Full vengeance for the man of verse, + A timber broke the wrestler's thighs, + And wounded many otherwise. + The gossip Fame, of course, took care + Abroad to publish this affair. + 'A miracle!' the public cried, delighted. + No more could god-beloved bard be slighted. + His verse now brought him more than double, + With neither duns, nor care, nor trouble. + Whoe'er laid claim to noble birth + Must buy his ancestors a slice, + Resolved no nobleman on earth + Should overgo him in the price. + From which these serious lessons flow:-- + Fail not your praises to bestow + On gods and godlike men. Again, + To sell the product of her pain + Is not degrading to the Muse. + Indeed, her art they do abuse, + Who think her wares to use, + And yet a liberal pay refuse. + Whate'er the great confer upon her, + They're honour'd by it while they honour. + Of old, Olympus and Parnassus + In friendship heaved their sky-crown'd masses. + +[17] Phaedrus, IV. 24. +[18] _Malherbe_.--See note to Fable I., Book III. + + + + +XV.--DEATH AND THE UNFORTUNATE.[19] + + A poor unfortunate, from day to day, + Call'd Death to take him from this world away. + 'O Death' he said, 'to me how fair thy form! + Come quick, and end for me life's cruel storm.' + Death heard, and with a ghastly grin, + Knock'd at his door, and enter'd in + 'Take out this object from my sight!' + The poor man loudly cried. + 'Its dreadful looks I can't abide; + O stay him, stay him' let him come no nigher; + O Death! O Death! I pray thee to retire!' + + A gentleman of note + In Rome, Maecenas,[20] somewhere wrote:-- + "Make me the poorest wretch that begs, + Sore, hungry, crippled, clothed in rags, + In hopeless impotence of arms and legs; + Provided, after all, you give + The one sweet liberty to live: + I'll ask of Death no greater favour + Than just to stay away for ever." + +[19] Aesop. +[20] _Maecenas_.--Seneca's Epistles, CI. + + + + +XVI.--DEATH AND THE WOODMAN.[21] + + A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load, + Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd, + Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest, + Trudged wearily along his homeward road. + At last his wood upon the ground he throws, + And sits him down to think o'er all his woes. + To joy a stranger, since his hapless birth, + What poorer wretch upon this rolling earth? + No bread sometimes, and ne'er a moment's rest; + Wife, children, soldiers, landlords, public tax, + All wait the swinging of his old, worn axe, + And paint the veriest picture of a man unblest. + On Death he calls. Forthwith that monarch grim + Appears, and asks what he should do for him. + 'Not much, indeed; a little help I lack-- + To put these fagots on my back.' + + Death ready stands all ills to cure; + But let us not his cure invite. + Than die, 'tis better to endure,-- + Is both a manly maxim and a right. + +[21] Aesop: it is also in Corrozet's fables. + + + + +XVII.--THE MAN BETWEEN TWO AGES, AND HIS TWO MISTRESSES.[22] + + A man of middle age, whose hair + Was bordering on the grey, + Began to turn his thoughts and care + The matrimonial way. + By virtue of his ready, + A store of choices had he + Of ladies bent to suit his taste; + On which account he made no haste. + To court well was no trifling art. + Two widows chiefly gain'd his heart; + The one yet green, the other more mature, + Who found for nature's wane in art a cure. + These dames, amidst their joking and caressing + The man they long'd to wed, + Would sometimes set themselves to dressing + His party-colour'd head. + Each aiming to assimilate + Her lover to her own estate, + The older piecemeal stole + The black hair from his poll, + While eke, with fingers light, + The young one stole the white. + Between them both, as if by scald, + His head was changed from grey to bald. + 'For these,' he said, 'your gentle pranks, + I owe you, ladies, many thanks. + By being thus well shaved, + I less have lost than saved. + Of Hymen, yet, no news at hand, + I do assure ye. + By what I've lost, I understand + It is in your way, + Not mine, that I must pass on. + Thanks, ladies, for the lesson.' + +[22] Phaedrus, II.2: Aesop. + + + + +XVIII.--THE FOX AND THE STORK.[23] + + Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, + To dine old Mistress Stork. + The fare was light, was nothing, sooth to say, + Requiring knife and fork. + That sly old gentleman, the dinner-giver, + Was, you must understand, a frugal liver. + This once, at least, the total matter + Was thinnish soup served on a platter, + For madam's slender beak a fruitless puzzle, + Till all had pass'd the fox's lapping muzzle. + But, little relishing his laughter, + Old gossip Stork, some few days after, + Return'd his Foxship's invitation. + Without a moment's hesitation, + He said he'd go, for he must own he + Ne'er stood with friends for ceremony. + And so, precisely at the hour, + He hied him to the lady's bower; + Where, praising her politeness, + He finds her dinner right nice. + Its punctuality and plenty, + Its viands, cut in mouthfuls dainty, + Its fragrant smell, were powerful to excite, + Had there been need, his foxish appetite. + But now the dame, to torture him, + Such wit was in her, + Served up her dinner + In vases made so tall and slim, + They let their owner's beak pass in and out, + But not, by any means, the fox's snout! + All arts without avail, + With drooping head and tail, + As ought a fox a fowl had cheated, + The hungry guest at last retreated. + + Ye knaves, for you is this recital, + You'll often meet Dame Stork's requital. + +[23] Phaedrus, I. 26; also in Aesop. + + + + +XIX.--THE BOY AND THE SCHOOLMASTER.[24] + + Wise counsel is not always wise, + As this my tale exemplifies. + A boy, that frolick'd on the banks of Seine, + Fell in, and would have found a watery grave, + Had not that hand that planteth ne'er in vain + A willow planted there, his life to save. + While hanging by its branches as he might, + A certain sage preceptor came in sight; + To whom the urchin cried, 'Save, or I'm drown'd!' + The master, turning gravely at the sound, + Thought proper for a while to stand aloof, + And give the boy some seasonable reproof. + 'You little wretch! this comes of foolish playing, + Commands and precepts disobeying. + A naughty rogue, no doubt, you are, + Who thus requite your parents' care. + Alas! their lot I pity much, + Whom fate condemns to watch o'er such.' + This having coolly said, and more, + He pull'd the drowning lad ashore. + + This story hits more marks than you suppose. + All critics, pedants, men of endless prose,-- + Three sorts, so richly bless'd with progeny, + The house is bless'd that doth not lodge any,-- + May in it see themselves from head to toes. + No matter what the task, + Their precious tongues must teach; + Their help in need you ask, + You first must hear them preach. + +[24] A fable telling this story is in the collection of Arabic fables + which bear the name of Locman, or Lokman, a personage some identify + with Aesop himself. Lokman is said to have flourished about 1050 + B.C.; and even as the "Phrygian slave"--Aesop was said to have been + very ugly, so Lokman is described as "an ugly black slave." See + Translator's Preface. Rabelais also has a version of the story of + this fable, _vide Gargantua_, Book I. ch. xlii. + + + + +XX.--THE COCK AND THE PEARL.[25] + + A cock scratch'd up, one day, + A pearl of purest ray, + Which to a jeweller he bore. + 'I think it fine,' he said, + 'But yet a crumb of bread + To me were worth a great deal more.' + + So did a dunce inherit + A manuscript of merit, + Which to a publisher he bore. + ''Tis good,' said he, 'I'm told, + Yet any coin of gold + To me were worth a great deal more.' + +[25] Phaedrus, III. 11. + + + + +XXI.--THE HORNETS AND THE BEES.[26] + + "The artist by his work is known."-- + A piece of honey-comb, one day, + Discover'd as a waif and stray, + The hornets treated as their own. + Their title did the bees dispute, + And brought before a wasp the suit. + The judge was puzzled to decide, + For nothing could be testified + Save that around this honey-comb + There had been seen, as if at home, + Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, + Much like the bees in wings and features. + But what of that? for marks the same, + The hornets, too, could truly claim. + Between assertion, and denial, + The wasp, in doubt, proclaim'd new trial; + And, hearing what an ant-hill swore, + Could see no clearer than before. + 'What use, I pray, of this expense?' + At last exclaim'd a bee of sense. + 'We've labour'd months in this affair, + And now are only where we were. + Meanwhile the honey runs to waste: + 'Tis time the judge should show some haste. + The parties, sure, have had sufficient bleeding, + Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading. + Let's set ourselves at work, these drones and we, + And then all eyes the truth may plainly see, + Whose art it is that can produce + The magic cells, the nectar juice.' + The hornets, flinching on their part, + Show that the work transcends their art. + The wasp at length their title sees, + And gives the honey to the bees. + Would God that suits at laws with us + Might all be managed thus! + That we might, in the Turkish mode, + Have simple common sense for code! + They then were short and cheap affairs, + Instead of stretching on like ditches, + Ingulfing in their course all riches,-- + The parties leaving for their shares, + The shells (and shells there might be moister) + From which the court has suck'd the oyster.[27] + +[26] Phaedrus, III. 12. +[27] _The court has suck'd the oyster_.--The humorous idea of the + lawyers, the litigants, and the oyster, is more fully treated in + Fable IX., Book IX. + + + + +XXII.--THE OAK AND THE REED.[28] + + The oak one day address'd the reed:-- + 'To you ungenerous indeed + Has nature been, my humble friend, + With weakness aye obliged to bend. + The smallest bird that flits in air + Is quite too much for you to bear; + The slightest wind that wreathes the lake + Your ever-trembling head doth shake. + The while, my towering form + Dares with the mountain top + The solar blaze to stop, + And wrestle with the storm. + What seems to you the blast of death, + To me is but a zephyr's breath. + Beneath my branches had you grown, + That spread far round their friendly bower, + Less suffering would your life have known, + Defended from the tempest's power. + Unhappily you oftenest show + In open air your slender form, + Along the marshes wet and low, + That fringe the kingdom of the storm. + To you, declare I must, + Dame Nature seems unjust.' + Then modestly replied the reed: + 'Your pity, sir, is kind indeed, + But wholly needless for my sake. + The wildest wind that ever blew + Is safe to me compared with you. + I bend, indeed, but never break. + Thus far, I own, the hurricane + Has beat your sturdy back in vain; + But wait the end.' Just at the word, + The tempest's hollow voice was heard. + The North sent forth her fiercest child, + Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild. + The oak, erect, endured the blow; + The reed bow'd gracefully and low. + But, gathering up its strength once more, + In greater fury than before, + The savage blast + O'erthrew, at last, + That proud, old, sky-encircled head, + Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead![29] + +[28] The groundwork of this fable is in Aesop, and also in the Fables of + Avianus. Flavius Avianus lived in the fifth century. His Aesopian + Fables were written in Latin verse. Caxton printed "The Fables of + Avian, translated into Englyshe" at the end of his edition of Aesop. +[29] This fable and "The Animals Sick of the Plague" (Fable I., Book + VII.), are generally deemed La Fontaine's two best fables. "The Oak + and the Reed" is held to be the perfection of classical fable, + while "The Animals Sick of the Plague" is esteemed for its fine + poetic feeling conjoined with its excellent moral teaching. See + Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK II. + + +I.--AGAINST THE HARD TO SUIT.[1] + + Were I a pet of fair Calliope, + I would devote the gifts conferr'd on me + To dress in verse old Aesop's lies divine; + For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine; + But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, + I dare not arrogate the magic skill, + To ornament these charming stories. + A bard might brighten up their glories, + No doubt. I try,--what one more wise must do. + Thus much I have accomplish'd hitherto:-- + By help of my translation, + The beasts hold conversation, + In French, as ne'er they did before. + Indeed, to claim a little more, + The plants and trees,[2] with smiling features, + Are turn'd by me to talking creatures. + Who says, that this is not enchanting? + 'Ah,' says the critics, 'hear what vaunting! + From one whose work, all told, no more is + Than half-a-dozen baby stories.'[3] + Would you a theme more credible, my censors, + In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? + Then list! For ten long years the men of Troy, + By means that only heroes can employ, + Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay,-- + Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, + Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, + Their blood of thousand heroes, all in vain,-- + When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, + Of lofty size before their city stood, + Whose flanks immense the sage Ulysses hold, + Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, + Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine + Would bear within the fated town unseen, + To wreak upon its very gods their rage-- + Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. + Which well its crafty authors did repay.... + 'Enough, enough,' our critic folks will say; + 'Your period excites alarm, + Lest you should do your lungs some harm; + And then your monstrous wooden horse, + With squadrons in it at their ease, + Is even harder to endorse + Than Renard cheating Raven of his cheese. + And, more than that, it fits you ill + To wield the old heroic quill.' + Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is:-- + Long sigh'd and pined the jealous Amaryllis + For her Alcippus, in the sad belief, + None, save her sheep and dog, would know her grief. + Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, + And hears the gentle shepherdess's lips + Beseech the kind and gentle zephyr + To bear these accents to her lover.... + 'Stop!' says my censor: + 'To laws of rhyme quite irreducible, + That couplet needs again the crucible; + Poetic men, sir, + Must nicely shun the shocks + Of rhymes unorthodox.' + A curse on critics! hold your tongue! + Know I not how to end my song? + Of time and strength what greater waste + Than my attempt to suit your taste? + + Some men, more nice than wise, + There's nought that satisfies. + + +[1] Phaedrus, Book IV. 7. +[2] _The plants and trees_.--Aristotle's rule for pure fable is + that its _dramatis personae_ should be animals only--excluding + man. Dr. Johnson (writing upon Gay's Fables) agrees in this dictum + "generally." But hardly any of the fabulists, from Aesop downwards, + seem to have bound themselves by the rule; and in this fable we have + La Fontaine rather exulting in his assignment of speech, &c., not + only to the lower animals but to "plants and trees," &c., as well as + otherwise defying the "hard to suit," _i.e._, the critics. +[3] _Half-a-dozen baby stories_.--Here La Fontaine exalts his muse + as a fabulist. This is in reply to certain of his critics who + pronounced his work puerile, and pretended to wish him to adopt the + higher forms of poetry. Some of the fables of the first six Books + were originally published in a semi-private way before 1668. See the + Translators Preface. La Fontaine defends his art as a writer of + fables also in Book III. (Fable I.); Book V. (Fable I.); Book VI. + (Fable I.); Book VII. (Introduction); Book VIII. (Fable IV.), and + Book IX. (Fable I). + + + + +II.--THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS [4] + + Old Rodilard,[5] a certain cat, + Such havoc of the rats had made, + 'Twas difficult to find a rat + With nature's debt unpaid. + The few that did remain, + To leave their holes afraid, + From usual food abstain, + Not eating half their fill. + And wonder no one will + That one who made of rats his revel, + With rats pass'd not for cat, but devil. + Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater, + Who had a wife, went out to meet her; + And while he held his caterwauling, + The unkill'd rats, their chapter calling, + Discuss'd the point, in grave debate, + How they might shun impending fate. + Their dean, a prudent rat, + Thought best, and better soon than late, + To bell the fatal cat; + That, when he took his hunting round, + The rats, well caution'd by the sound, + Might hide in safety under ground; + Indeed he knew no other means. + And all the rest + At once confess'd + Their minds were with the dean's. + No better plan, they all believed, + Could possibly have been conceived, + No doubt the thing would work right well, + If any one would hang the bell. + But, one by one, said every rat, + 'I'm not so big a fool as that.' + The plan, knock'd up in this respect, + The council closed without effect. + + And many a council I have seen, + Or reverend chapter with its dean, + That, thus resolving wisely, + Fell through like this precisely. + + To argue or refute + Wise counsellors abound; + The man to execute + Is harder to be found. + +[4] Faerno and Abstemius both have fables upon this subject. Gabriel + Faerno (1500-1561) was an Italian writer who published fables in + Latin. Perrault translated these into French verse, and published + them at Paris in 1699. Faerno was also a famous editor of Terence. + Laurentius Abstemius, or Astemio, was an Italian fabulist of the + fifteenth century. After their first publication his fables often + appeared in editions of Aesop. +[5] _Rodilard_.--The name no doubt taken from the famous cat + Rodilardus (bacon-gnawer), in Rabelais, _Pantagruel_, IV., ch. LXVII. + + + + +III.--THE WOLF ACCUSING THE FOX BEFORE THE MONKEY.[6] + + A wolf, affirming his belief + That he had suffer'd by a thief, + Brought up his neighbour fox-- + Of whom it was by all confess'd, + His character was not the best-- + To fill the prisoner's box. + As judge between these vermin, + A monkey graced the ermine; + And truly other gifts of Themis[7] + Did scarcely seem his; + For while each party plead his cause, + Appealing boldly to the laws, + And much the question vex'd, + Our monkey sat perplex'd. + Their words and wrath expended, + Their strife at length was ended; + When, by their malice taught, + The judge this judgment brought: + 'Your characters, my friends, I long have known, + As on this trial clearly shown; + And hence I fine you both--the grounds at large + To state would little profit-- + You wolf, in short, as bringing groundless charge, + You fox, as guilty of it.' + + Come at it right or wrong, the judge opined + No other than a villain could be fined.[8] + +[6] Phaedrus, I. 10. +[7] _Themis_.--The goddess of Justice. +[8] So Philip of Macedon is said to have decided a suit by condemning + the defendant to banishment and the plaintiff to follow him. The + wisdom of each decision lies in taking advantage of a doubtful case + to convict two well-known rogues of--previous bad character. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG.[9] + + Two bulls engaged in shocking battle, + Both for a certain heifer's sake, + And lordship over certain cattle, + A frog began to groan and quake. + 'But what is this to you?' + Inquired another of the croaking crew. + 'Why, sister, don't you see, + The end of this will be, + That one of these big brutes will yield, + And then be exiled from the field? + No more permitted on the grass to feed, + He'll forage through our marsh, on rush and reed; + And while he eats or chews the cud, + Will trample on us in the mud. + Alas! to think how frogs must suffer + By means of this proud lady heifer!' + This fear was not without good sense. + One bull was beat, and much to their expense; + For, quick retreating to their reedy bower, + He trod on twenty of them in an hour. + + Of little folks it oft has been the fate + To suffer for the follies of the great. + +[9] Phaedrus, I. 30. + + + + +V.--THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.[10] + + A blundering bat once stuck her head + Into a wakeful weasel's bed; + Whereat the mistress of the house, + A deadly foe of rats and mice, + Was making ready in a trice + To eat the stranger as a mouse. + 'What! do you dare,' she said, 'to creep in + The very bed I sometimes sleep in, + Now, after all the provocation + I've suffer'd from your thievish nation? + Are you not really a mouse, + That gnawing pest of every house, + Your special aim to do the cheese ill? + Ay, that you are, or I'm no weasel.' + 'I beg your pardon,' said the bat; + 'My kind is very far from that. + What! I a mouse! Who told you such a lie? + Why, ma'am, I am a bird; + And, if you doubt my word, + Just see the wings with which I fly. + Long live the mice that cleave the sky!' + These reasons had so fair a show, + The weasel let the creature go. + + By some strange fancy led, + The same wise blunderhead, + But two or three days later, + Had chosen for her rest + Another weasel's nest, + This last, of birds a special hater. + New peril brought this step absurd; + Without a moment's thought or puzzle, + Dame weasel oped her peaked muzzle + To eat th' intruder as a bird. + 'Hold! do not wrong me,' cried the bat; + 'I'm truly no such thing as that. + Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers. + What makes a bird, I pray? Its feathers. + I'm cousin of the mice and rats. + Great Jupiter confound the cats!' + The bat, by such adroit replying, + Twice saved herself from dying. + + And many a human stranger + Thus turns his coat in danger; + And sings, as suits, where'er he goes, + 'God save the king!'--or 'save his foes!'[11] + +[10] Aesop. +[11] _Or save his foes!_--La Fontaine's last line is--"Vive le roi! + Vive la ligue!" conveying an allusion to the "Holy League" of the + French Catholic party, which, under the Guises, brought about the + war with Henry III. and the Huguenots, which ended, for a time, in + the edict of Nantes, promulgated by Henry IV. in 1598. + + + + +VI.--THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.[12] + + A bird, with plumèd arrow shot, + In dying case deplored her lot: + 'Alas!' she cried, 'the anguish of the thought! + This ruin partly by myself was brought! + Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow + What wings to us the fatal arrow! + But mock us not, ye cruel race, + For you must often take our place.' + + The work of half the human brothers + Is making arms against the others. + +[12] Aesop. + + + + +VII.--THE BITCH AND HER FRIEND.[13] + + A bitch, that felt her time approaching, + And had no place for parturition, + Went to a female friend, and, broaching + Her delicate condition, + Got leave herself to shut + Within the other's hut. + At proper time the lender came + Her little premises to claim. + The bitch crawl'd meekly to the door, + And humbly begg'd a fortnight more. + Her little pups, she said, could hardly walk. + In short, the lender yielded to her talk. + The second term expired; the friend had come + To take possession of her house and home. + The bitch, this time, as if she would have bit her, + Replied, 'I'm ready, madam, with my litter, + To go when you can turn me out.' + Her pups, you see, were fierce and stout. + + The creditor, from whom a villain borrows, + Will fewer shillings get again than sorrows. + If you have trusted people of this sort, + You'll have to plead, and dun, and fight; in short, + If in your house you let one step a foot, + He'll surely step the other in to boot. + +[13] Phaedrus, I. 19. See the Translator's Preface. + + + + +VIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE.[14] + + John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, + Was making for his hole in haste, + When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow. + I leave you all to think + If such a little chink + Could to a rabbit give protection thorough. + But, since no better could be got, + John Rabbit there was fain to squat. + Of course, in an asylum so absurd, + John felt ere long the talons of the bird. + But first, the beetle, interceding, cried, + 'Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied, + That, maugre my protection, you can bear + My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air. + But do not give me such affront, I pray; + And since he craves your grace, + In pity of his case, + Grant him his life, or take us both away; + For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.' + In vain the beetle's friendly labour; + The eagle clutch'd her prey without reply, + And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, + Struck down our orator and still'd him; + The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him. + The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, + Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak, + Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest. + And while the bird was gone, + Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, + Not sparing one. + Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, + Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky. + But, by excess of passion blind, + Her enemy she fail'd to find. + Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate + To live a mourning mother, desolate. + The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; + The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again. + John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew. + The second mourning for her murder'd brood + Was such, that through the giant mountain wood, + For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. + The bird, once Ganymede, now made + Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; + And, laying them within his godship's lap, + She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap; + The god his own could not but make them-- + No wretch, would venture there to break them. + And no one did. Their enemy, this time, + Upsoaring to a place sublime, + Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, + Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, + Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. + When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event + Occurr'd by purest accident, + The eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her; + She gave out threats of leaving court, + To make the desert her resort, + And other brav'ries of this sort. + Poor Jupiter in silence heard + The uproar of his favourite bird. + Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, + And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd. + The god pronounced the eagle in the wrong. + But still, their hatred was so old and strong, + These enemies could not be reconciled; + And, that the general peace might not be spoil'd,-- + The best that he could do,--the god arranged, + That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed, + To come when beetle folks are only found + Conceal'd and dormant under ground. + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE LION AND THE GNAT.[15] + + 'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!' + Thus said the royal lion to the gnat. + The gnat declared immediate war. + 'Think you,' said he, 'your royal name + To me worth caring for? + Think you I tremble at your power or fame? + The ox is bigger far than you; + Yet him I drive, and all his crew.' + This said, as one that did no fear owe, + Himself he blew the battle charge, + Himself both trumpeter and hero. + At first he play'd about at large, + Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, + And there the royal beast full sorely nettled. + With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, + He roars. All creatures hide or fly,-- + Such mortal terror at + The work of one poor gnat! + With constant change of his attack, + The snout now stinging, now the back, + And now the chambers of the nose; + The pigmy fly no mercy shows. + The lion's rage was at its height; + His viewless foe now laugh'd outright, + When on his battle-ground he saw, + That every savage tooth and claw + Had got its proper beauty + By doing bloody duty; + Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, + And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side. + Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse! + He beat the harmless air, and worse; + For, though so fierce and stout, + By effort wearied out, + He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel. + The gnat retires with verdant laurel. + Now rings his trumpet clang, + As at the charge it rang. + But while his triumph note he blows, + Straight on our valiant conqueror goes + A spider's ambuscade to meet, + And make its web his winding-sheet. + + We often have the most to fear + From those we most despise; + Again, great risks a man may clear, + Who by the smallest dies. + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE ASS LOADED WITH SPONGES, AND THE ASS LOADED WITH SALT.[16] + + A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer, + His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing, + Drove on two coursers of protracted ear, + The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring; + The other lifting legs + As if he trod on eggs, + With constant need of goading, + And bags of salt for loading. + O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pass'd, + Till, coming to a river's ford at last, + They stopp'd quite puzzled on the shore. + Our asseteer had cross'd the stream before; + So, on the lighter beast astride, + He drives the other, spite of dread, + Which, loath indeed to go ahead, + Into a deep hole turns aside, + And, facing right about, + Where he went in, comes out; + For duckings two or three + Had power the salt to melt, + So that the creature felt + His burden'd shoulders free. + The sponger, like a sequent sheep, + Pursuing through the water deep, + Into the same hole plunges + Himself, his rider, and the sponges. + All three drank deeply: asseteer and ass + For boon companions of their load might pass; + Which last became so sore a weight, + The ass fell down, + Belike to drown, + His rider risking equal fate. + A helper came, no matter who. + The moral needs no more ado-- + That all can't act alike,-- + The point I wish'd to strike. + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE LION AND THE RAT.[17] + + To show to all your kindness, it behoves: + There's none so small but you his aid may need. + I quote two fables for this weighty creed, + Which either of them fully proves. + From underneath the sward + A rat, quite off his guard, + Popp'd out between a lion's paws. + The beast of royal bearing + Show'd what a lion was + The creature's life by sparing-- + A kindness well repaid; + For, little as you would have thought + His majesty would ever need his aid, + It proved full soon + A precious boon. + Forth issuing from his forest glen, + T' explore the haunts of men, + In lion net his majesty was caught, + From which his strength and rage + Served not to disengage. + The rat ran up, with grateful glee, + Gnaw'd off a rope, and set him free. + + By time and toil we sever + What strength and rage could never. + +[17] Aesop. In the original editions of La Fontaine's Fables, XI. and + XII. are printed together, and headed "Fables XI. et XII." + + + + +XII.--THE DOVE AND THE ANT.[18] + + The same instruction we may get + From another couple, smaller yet. + + A dove came to a brook to drink, + When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, + An ant fell in, and vainly tried, + In this, to her, an ocean tide, + To reach the land; whereat the dove, + With every living thing in love, + Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her, + By which the ant regain'd the shore. + + A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, + Soon after chanced this dove to spy; + And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, + The hungry codger doubted not + The bird of Venus, in his pot, + Would make a soup before the morrow. + Just as his deadly bow he drew, + Our ant just bit his heel. + Roused by the villain's squeal, + The dove took timely hint, and flew + Far from the rascal's coop;-- + And with her flew his soup. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THE ASTROLOGER WHO STUMBLED INTO A WELL.[19] + + To an astrologer who fell + Plump to the bottom of a well, + 'Poor blockhead!' cried a passer-by, + 'Not see your feet, and read the sky?' + + This upshot of a story will suffice + To give a useful hint to most; + For few there are in this our world so wise + As not to trust in star or ghost, + Or cherish secretly the creed + That men the book of destiny may read. + This book, by Homer and his pupils sung, + What is it, in plain common sense, + But what was chance those ancient folks among, + And with ourselves, God's providence? + Now chance doth bid defiance + To every thing like science; + 'Twere wrong, if not, + To call it hazard, fortune, lot-- + Things palpably uncertain. + But from the purposes divine, + The deep of infinite design, + Who boasts to lift the curtain? + Whom but himself doth God allow + To read his bosom thoughts? and how + Would he imprint upon the stars sublime + The shrouded secrets of the night of time? + And all for what? To exercise the wit + Of those who on astrology have writ? + To help us shun inevitable ills? + To poison for us even pleasure's rills? + The choicest blessings to destroy, + Exhausting, ere they come, their joy? + Such faith is worse than error--'tis a crime. + The sky-host moves and marks the course of time; + The sun sheds on our nicely-measured days + The glory of his night-dispelling rays; + And all from this we can divine + Is, that they need to rise and shine,-- + To roll the seasons, ripen fruits, + And cheer the hearts of men and brutes. + How tallies this revolving universe + With human things, eternally diverse? + Ye horoscopers, waning quacks, + Please turn on Europe's courts your backs, + And, taking on your travelling lists + The bellows-blowing alchemists, + Budge off together to the land of mists. + But I've digress'd. Return we now, bethinking + Of our poor star-man, whom we left a drinking. + Besides the folly of his lying trade, + This man the type may well be made + Of those who at chimeras stare + When they should mind the things that are. + +[19] Aesop. Diogenes Laertius tells the story of this fable of Thales of + Miletus. "It is said that once he (Thales) was led out of his house + by an old woman for the purpose of observing the stars, and he fell + into a ditch and bewailed himself. On which the old woman said to + him--'Do you, O Thales, who cannot see what is under your feet, + think that thou shalt understand what is in heaven?'"--_Diogenes + Laertius, Bohn's edition._ + + + + +XIV.--THE HARE AND THE FROGS.[20] + + Once in his bed deep mused the hare, + (What else but muse could he do there?) + And soon by gloom was much afflicted;-- + To gloom the creature's much addicted. + 'Alas! these constitutions nervous,' + He cried, 'how wretchedly they serve us! + We timid people, by their action, + Can't eat nor sleep with satisfaction; + We can't enjoy a pleasure single, + But with some misery it must mingle. + Myself, for one, am forced by cursed fear + To sleep with open eye as well as ear. + "Correct yourself," says some adviser. + Grows fear, by such advice, the wiser? + Indeed, I well enough descry + That men have fear, as well as I.' + With such revolving thoughts our hare + Kept watch in soul-consuming care. + A passing shade, or leaflet's quiver + Would give his blood a boiling fever. + Full soon, his melancholy soul + Aroused from dreaming doze + By noise too slight for foes, + He scuds in haste to reach his hole. + He pass'd a pond; and from its border bogs, + Plunge after plunge, in leap'd the timid frogs, + 'Aha! I do to them, I see,' + He cried, 'what others do to me. + The sight of even me, a hare, + Sufficeth some, I find, to scare. + And here, the terror of my tramp + Hath put to rout, it seems, a camp. + The trembling fools! they take me for + The very thunderbolt of war! + I see, the coward never skulk'd a foe + That might not scare a coward still below.' + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XV.--THE COCK AND THE FOX.[21] + + Upon a tree there mounted guard + A veteran cock, adroit and cunning; + When to the roots a fox up running, + Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard:-- + 'Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; + Henceforth I hope to live your friend; + For peace now reigns + Throughout the animal domains. + I bear the news:--come down, I pray, + And give me the embrace fraternal; + And please, my brother, don't delay. + So much the tidings do concern all, + That I must spread them far to-day. + Now you and yours can take your walks + Without a fear or thought of hawks. + And should you clash with them or others, + In us you'll find the best of brothers;-- + For which you may, this joyful night, + Your merry bonfires light. + But, first, let's seal the bliss + With one fraternal kiss.' + 'Good friend,' the cock replied, 'upon my word, + A better thing I never heard; + And doubly I rejoice + To hear it from your voice; + And, really there must be something in it, + For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter + Myself are couriers on this very matter. + They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. + I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing + With general kissing and caressing.' + 'Adieu,' said fox; 'my errand's pressing; + I'll hurry on my way, + And we'll rejoice some other day.' + So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, + To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, + Less happy in his stratagem than flight. + The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;-- + 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. + +[21] Aesop. + + + + +XVI.--THE RAVEN WISHING TO IMITATE THE EAGLE.[22] + + The bird of Jove bore off a mutton, + A raven being witness. + That weaker bird, but equal glutton, + Not doubting of his fitness + To do the same with ease, + And bent his taste to please, + Took round the flock his sweep, + And mark'd among the sheep, + The one of fairest flesh and size, + A real sheep of sacrifice-- + A dainty titbit bestial, + Reserved for mouth celestial. + Our gormand, gloating round, + Cried, 'Sheep, I wonder much + Who could have made you such. + You're far the fattest I have found; + I'll take you for my eating.' + And on the creature bleating + He settled down. Now, sooth to say, + This sheep would weigh + More than a cheese; + And had a fleece + Much like that matting famous + Which graced the chin of Polyphemus;[23] + So fast it clung to every claw, + It was not easy to withdraw. + The shepherd came, caught, caged, and, to their joy, + Gave croaker to his children for a toy. + + Ill plays the pilferer the bigger thief; + One's self one ought to know;--in brief, + Example is a dangerous lure; + Death strikes the gnat, where flies the wasp secure. + +[22] Aesop; and Corrozet. +[23] _Polyphemus_.--The Cyclop king: _vide_ Homer's Odyssey, Book IX. + + + + +XVII.--THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO.[24] + + The peacock[25] to the queen of heaven + Complain'd in some such words:-- + 'Great goddess, you have given + To me, the laughing-stock of birds, + A voice which fills, by taste quite just, + All nature with disgust; + Whereas that little paltry thing, + The nightingale, pours from her throat + So sweet and ravishing a note, + She bears alone the honours of the spring.' + + In anger Juno heard, + And cried, 'Shame on you, jealous bird! + Grudge you the nightingale her voice, + Who in the rainbow neck rejoice, + Than costliest silks more richly tinted, + In charms of grace and form unstinted,-- + Who strut in kingly pride, + Your glorious tail spread wide + With brilliants which in sheen do + Outshine the jeweller's bow window? + Is there a bird beneath the blue + That has more charms than you? + No animal in everything can shine. + By just partition of our gifts divine, + Each has its full and proper share; + Among the birds that cleave the air, + The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave one, + For omens serves the hoarse old raven, + The rook's of coming ills the prophet; + And if there's any discontent, + I've heard not of it. + + 'Cease, then, your envious complaint; + Or I, instead of making up your lack, + Will take your boasted plumage from your back.' + +[24] Phaedrus, III. 17. +[25] The peacock was consecrated to Juno the "Queen of Heaven," and was + under her protection. + + + + +XVIII.--THE CAT METAMORPHOSED INTO A WOMAN.[26] + + A bachelor caress'd his cat, + A darling, fair, and delicate; + So deep in love, he thought her mew + The sweetest voice he ever knew. + By prayers, and tears, and magic art, + The man got Fate to take his part; + And, lo! one morning at his side + His cat, transform'd, became his bride. + In wedded state our man was seen + The fool in courtship he had been. + No lover e'er was so bewitch'd + By any maiden's charms + As was this husband, so enrich'd + By hers within his arms. + He praised her beauties, this and that, + And saw there nothing of the cat. + In short, by passion's aid, he + Thought her a perfect lady. + + 'Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice + Disturb'd the nuptial joys. + Excited by the noise, + The bride sprang at them in a trice; + The mice were scared and fled. + The bride, scarce in her bed, + The gnawing heard, and sprang again,-- + And this time not in vain, + For, in this novel form array'd, + Of her the mice were less afraid. + Through life she loved this mousing course, + So great is stubborn nature's force. + + In mockery of change, the old + Will keep their youthful bent. + When once the cloth has got its fold, + The smelling-pot its scent, + In vain your efforts and your care + To make them other than they are. + To work reform, do what you will, + Old habit will be habit still. + Nor fork[27] nor strap can mend its manners, + Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners. + Secure the doors against the renter, + And through the windows it will enter. + +[26] Aesop. +[27] Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.--Hor. Epist. Bk. I. + 10.--Translator. + + + + +XIX.--THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING.[28] + + The king of animals, with royal grace, + Would celebrate his birthday in the chase. + 'Twas not with bow and arrows, + To slay some wretched sparrows; + The lion hunts the wild boar of the wood, + The antlered deer and stags, the fat and good. + This time, the king, t' insure success, + Took for his aide-de-camp an ass, + A creature of stentorian voice, + That felt much honour'd by the choice. + The lion hid him in a proper station, + And order'd him to bray, for his vocation, + Assured that his tempestuous cry + The boldest beasts would terrify, + And cause them from their lairs to fly. + And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made + Did strike the tenants of the wood with dread; + And, as they headlong fled, + All fell within the lion's ambuscade. + 'Has not my service glorious + Made both of us victorious?' + Cried out the much-elated ass. + 'Yes,' said the lion; 'bravely bray'd! + Had I not known yourself and race, + I should have been myself afraid!' + If he had dared, the donkey + Had shown himself right spunky + At this retort, though justly made; + For who could suffer boasts to pass + So ill-befitting to an ass? + +[28] Phaedrus, I. 11: Aesop. + + + + +XX.--THE WILL EXPLAINED BY AESOP.[29] + + If what old story says of Aesop's true, + The oracle of Greece he was, + And more than Areopagus[30] he knew, + With all its wisdom in the laws. + The following tale gives but a sample + Of what has made his fame so ample. + Three daughters shared a father's purse, + Of habits totally diverse. + The first, bewitched with drinks delicious; + The next, coquettish and capricious; + The third, supremely avaricious. + The sire, expectant of his fate, + Bequeathed his whole estate, + In equal shares, to them, + And to their mother just the same,-- + To her then payable, and not before, + Each daughter should possess her part no more. + The father died. The females three + Were much in haste the will to see. + They read, and read, but still + Saw not the willer's will. + For could it well be understood + That each of this sweet sisterhood, + When she possess'd her part no more, + Should to her mother pay it o'er? + 'Twas surely not so easy saying + How lack of means would help the paying. + What meant their honour'd father, then? + Th' affair was brought to legal men, + Who, after turning o'er the case + Some hundred thousand different ways, + Threw down the learned bonnet, + Unable to decide upon it; + And then advised the heirs, + Without more thought, t' adjust affairs. + As to the widow's share, the counsel say, + 'We hold it just the daughters each should pay + One third to her upon demand, + Should she not choose to have it stand + Commuted as a life annuity, + Paid from her husband's death, with due congruity.' + The thing thus order'd, the estate + Is duly cut in portions three. + And in the first they all agree + To put the feasting-lodges, plate, + Luxurious cooling mugs, + Enormous liquor jugs, + Rich cupboards,--built beneath the trellised vine,-- + The stores of ancient, sweet Malvoisian wine, + The slaves to serve it at a sign; + In short, whatever, in a great house, + There is of feasting apparatus. + The second part is made + Of what might help the jilting trade-- + The city house and furniture, + Exquisite and genteel, be sure, + The eunuchs, milliners, and laces, + The jewels, shawls, and costly dresses. + The third is made of household stuff, + More vulgar, rude, and rough-- + Farms, fences, flocks, and fodder, + And men and beasts to turn the sod o'er. + This done, since it was thought + To give the parts by lot + Might suit, or it might not, + Each paid her share of fees dear, + And took the part that pleased her. + 'Twas in great Athens town, + Such judgment gave the gown. + And there the public voice + Applauded both the judgment and the choice. + But Aesop well was satisfied + The learned men had set aside, + In judging thus the testament, + The very gist of its intent. + 'The dead,' quoth he, 'could he but know of it, + Would heap reproaches on such Attic wit. + What! men who proudly take their place + As sages of the human race, + Lack they the simple skill + To settle such a will?' + This said, he undertook himself + The task of portioning the pelf; + And straightway gave each maid the part + The least according to her heart-- + The prim coquette, the drinking stuff, + The drinker, then, the farms and cattle; + And on the miser, rude and rough, + The robes and lace did Aesop settle; + For thus, he said, 'an early date + Would see the sisters alienate + Their several shares of the estate. + No motive now in maidenhood to tarry, + They all would seek, post haste, to marry; + And, having each a splendid bait, + Each soon would find a well-bred mate; + And, leaving thus their father's goods intact, + Would to their mother pay them all, in fact,'-- + Which of the testament + Was plainly the intent. + The people, who had thought a slave an ass, + Much wonder'd how it came to pass + That one alone should have more sense + Than all their men of most pretence. + +[29] Phaedrus, IV. 5. +[30] _Areopagus._--This was the Athenian Court of Justice at Mars Hill. + It is said to have been called _Areiopagos_ (the Hill of Mars) + because, according to tradition, the first trial there was that of + Mars for the murder of Halirrhotius. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK III. + + +I.--THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THE ASS [1] + +To M. De Maucroix.[2] + + Because the arts are plainly birthright matters, + For fables we to ancient Greece are debtors; + But still this field could not be reap'd so clean + As not to let us, later comers, glean. + The fiction-world hath deserts yet to dare, + And, daily, authors make discoveries there. + I'd fain repeat one which our man of song, + Old Malherbe, told one day to young Racan.[3] + Of Horace they the rivals and the heirs, + Apollo's pets,--my masters, I should say,-- + Sole by themselves were met, I'm told, one day, + Confiding each to each their thoughts and cares. + Racan begins:--'Pray end my inward strife, + For well you know, my friend, what's what in life, + Who through its varied course, from stage to stage, + Have stored the full experience of age; + What shall I do? 'Tis time I chose profession. + You know my fortune, birth, and disposition. + Ought I to make the country my resort, + Or seek the army, or to rise at court? + There's nought but mixeth bitterness with charms; + War hath its pleasures; hymen, its alarms. + 'Twere nothing hard to take my natural bent,-- + But I've a world of people to content.' + 'Content a world!' old Malherbe cries; 'who can, sir? + Why, let me tell a story ere I answer.' + + 'A miller and his son, I've somewhere read, + The first in years, the other but a lad,-- + A fine, smart boy, however, I should say,-- + To sell their ass went to a fair one day. + In order there to get the highest price, + They needs must keep their donkey fresh and nice; + So, tying fast his feet, they swung him clear, + And bore him hanging like a chandelier. + Alas! poor, simple-minded country fellows! + The first that sees their load, loud laughing, bellows, + "What farce is this to split good people's sides? + The most an ass is not the one that rides!" + The miller, much enlighten'd by this talk, + Untied his precious beast, and made him walk. + The ass, who liked the other mode of travel, + Bray'd some complaint at trudging on the gravel; + Whereat, not understanding well the beast, + The miller caused his hopeful son to ride, + And walk'd behind, without a spark of pride. + Three merchants pass'd, and, mightily displeased, + The eldest of these gentlemen cried out, + "Ho there! dismount, for shame, you lubber lout! + Nor make a foot-boy of your grey-beard sire; + Change places, as the rights of age require." + "To please you, sirs," the miller said, "I ought." + So down the young and up the old man got. + Three girls next passing, "What a shame!" says one, + "That boy should be obliged on foot to run, + While that old chap, upon his ass astride, + Should play the calf, and like a bishop ride!" + "Please save your wit," the miller made reply, + "Tough veal, my girls, the calf as old as I." + But joke on joke repeated changed his mind; + So up he took, at last, his son behind. + Not thirty yards ahead, another set + Found fault. "The biggest fools I ever met," + Says one of them, "such burdens to impose. + The ass is faint, and dying with their blows. + Is this, indeed, the mercy which these rustics + Show to their honest, faithful, old domestics? + If to the fair these lazy fellows ride, + 'Twill be to sell thereat the donkey's hide!" + "Zounds!" cried the miller, "precious little brains + Hath he who takes, to please the world, such pains; + But since we're in, we'll try what can be done." + So off the ass they jump'd, himself and son, + And, like a prelate, donkey march'd alone. + Another man they met. "These folks," said he, + "Enslave themselves to let their ass go free-- + The darling brute! If I might be so bold, + I'd counsel them to have him set in gold. + Not so went Nicholas his Jane[4] to woo, + Who rode, we sing, his ass to save his shoe." + "Ass! ass!" our man replied; "we're asses three! + I do avow myself an ass to be; + But since my sage advisers can't agree, + Their words henceforth shall not be heeded; + I'll suit myself." And he succeeded. + + 'For you, choose army, love, or court; + In town, or country, make resort; + Take wife, or cowl; ride you, or walk; + Doubt not but tongues will have their talk.' + +[1] The story of this fable has been used by most of the fabulists, from + Aesop downwards. +[2] In the original editions this fable is dedicated "A. M. D. M." which + initials stand for "To M. De Maucroix," Canon of Rheims, an early and + late friend and patron of the poet. See Translator's Preface. +[3] _Old Malherbe and young Racan._--French poets. Malherbe was + born in 1556, and died in 1628. La Fontaine owed to Malherbe's works + the happy inspiration which led him to write poetry. See Translator's + Preface. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan, was born at La Roche + Racan in 1589. As a poet he was a pupil of Malherbe. His works + were praised by Boileau, and he was one of the earliest members of + the French Academy. +[4] _Nicholas and his Jane._--An allusion to an old French song. + + + + +II.--THE MEMBERS AND THE BELLY.[5] + + Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, + This book would have begun with royalty, + Of which, in certain points of view, + Boss[6] Belly is the image true, + In whose bereavements all the members share: + Of whom the latter once so weary were, + As all due service to forbear, + On what they called his idle plan, + Resolved to play the gentleman, + And let his lordship live on air. + 'Like burden-beasts,' said they, + 'We sweat from day to day; + And all for whom, and what? + Ourselves we profit not. + Our labour has no object but one, + That is, to feed this lazy glutton. + We'll learn the resting trade + By his example's aid.' + So said, so done; all labour ceased; + The hands refused to grasp, the arms to strike; + All other members did the like. + Their boss might labour if he pleased! + It was an error which they soon repented, + With pain of languid poverty acquainted. + The heart no more the blood renew'd, + And hence repair no more accrued + To ever-wasting strength; + Whereby the mutineers, at length, + Saw that the idle belly, in its way, + Did more for common benefit than they. + + For royalty our fable makes, + A thing that gives as well as takes + Its power all labour to sustain, + Nor for themselves turns out their labour vain. + It gives the artist bread, the merchant riches; + Maintains the diggers in their ditches; + Pays man of war and magistrate; + Supports the swarms in place, + That live on sovereign grace; + In short, is caterer for the state. + + Menenius[7] told the story well: + When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, + The commons parting from the senate. + 'The ills,' said they, 'that we complain at + Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity, + Belong to them alone; while we + Get nought our labour for + But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war.' + Without the walls the people had their stand + Prepared to march in search of other land, + When by this noted fable + Menenius was able + To draw them, hungry, home + To duty and to Rome.[8] + +[5] Aesop. Rabelais also has a version: Book III. ch. 3. +[6] _Boss_.--A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to + lexicographers; qu. derived from the French _bosseman_, or the + English _boatswain_, pronounced _bos'n_? It denotes a "master" of + some practical "art." Master Belly, says Rabelais, was the first + Master of Arts in the world.--Translator. The name used by La + Fontaine is "Messer Gaster." To which he puts a footnote stating + that he meant "L'estomac." He took the name from Rabelais, Book IV., + ch. 57, where it occurs thus:--"Messer Gaster est le premier maître + ès arts de ce monde.... Son mandement est nommé: Faire le fault, + sans delay, ou mourir." +[7] _Menenius_.--See Translator's Preface. +[8] _Rome_.--According to our republican notions of government, + these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the fable finds a + more appropriate application in the relation of employer to employed. + I leave the fabulists and the political economists to settle the + question between them.--Translator. + + + + +III.--THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.[9] + + A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks + Began to be but few, + Bethought himself to play the fox + In character quite new. + A shepherd's hat and coat he took, + A cudgel for a crook, + Nor e'en the pipe forgot: + And more to seem what he was not, + Himself upon his hat he wrote, + 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep.' + His person thus complete, + His crook in upraised feet, + The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. + The real Willie, on the grass asleep, + Slept there, indeed, profoundly, + His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; + His drowsy sheep around lay. + As for the greatest number, + Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, + And hoped to drive away the flock, + Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. + He thought undoubtedly he could. + He tried: the tone in which he spoke, + Loud echoing from the wood, + The plot and slumber broke; + Sheep, dog, and man awoke. + The wolf, in sorry plight, + In hampering coat bedight, + Could neither run nor fight. + + There's always leakage of deceit + Which makes it never safe to cheat. + Whoever is a wolf had better + Keep clear of hypocritic fetter. + +[9] The story of this fable is traced to Verdizotti, an Italian poet who + lived about 1535-1600. + + + + +IV.--THE FROGS ASKING A KING.[10] + + A certain commonwealth aquatic, + Grown tired of order democratic, + By clamouring in the ears of Jove, effected + Its being to a monarch's power subjected. + Jove flung it down, at first, a king pacific. + Who nathless fell with such a splash terrific, + The marshy folks, a foolish race and timid, + Made breathless haste to get from him hid. + They dived into the mud beneath the water, + Or found among the reeds and rushes quarter. + And long it was they dared not see + The dreadful face of majesty, + Supposing that some monstrous frog + Had been sent down to rule the bog. + The king was really a log, + Whose gravity inspired with awe + The first that, from his hiding-place + Forth venturing, astonish'd, saw + The royal blockhead's face. + With trembling and with fear, + At last he drew quite near. + Another follow'd, and another yet, + Till quite a crowd at last were met; + Who, growing fast and strangely bolder, + Perch'd soon upon the royal shoulder. + His gracious majesty kept still, + And let his people work their will. + Clack, clack! what din beset the ears of Jove? + 'We want a king,' the people said, 'to move!' + The god straight sent them down a crane, + Who caught and slew them without measure, + And gulp'd their carcasses at pleasure; + Whereat the frogs more wofully complain. + 'What! what!' great Jupiter replied; + 'By your desires must I be tied? + Think you such government is bad? + You should have kept what first you had; + Which having blindly fail'd to do, + It had been prudent still for you + To let that former king suffice, + More meek and mild, if not so wise. + With this now make yourselves content, + Lest for your sins a worse be sent.' + +[10] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 2. + + + + +V.--THE FOX AND THE GOAT.[11] + + A fox once journey'd, and for company + A certain bearded, horned goat had he; + Which goat no further than his nose could see. + The fox was deeply versed in trickery. + These travellers did thirst compel + To seek the bottom of a well. + There, having drunk enough for two, + Says fox, 'My friend, what shall we do? + 'Tis time that we were thinking + Of something else than drinking. + Raise you your feet upon the wall, + And stick your horns up straight and tall; + Then up your back I'll climb with ease, + And draw you after, if you please.' + 'Yes, by my beard,' the other said, + ''Tis just the thing. I like a head + Well stock'd with sense, like thine. + Had it been left to mine, + I do confess, + I never should have thought of this.' + So Renard clamber'd out, + And, leaving there the goat, + Discharged his obligations + By preaching thus on patience:-- + 'Had Heaven put sense thy head within, + To match the beard upon thy chin, + Thou wouldst have thought a bit, + Before descending such a pit. + I'm out of it; good bye: + With prudent effort try + Yourself to extricate. + For me, affairs of state + Permit me not to wait.' + + Whatever way you wend, + Consider well the end. + +[11] Aesop; also in Phaedrus, IV. 9. + + + + +VI.--THE EAGLE, THE WILD SOW, AND THE CAT.[12] + + A certain hollow tree + Was tenanted by three. + An eagle held a lofty bough, + The hollow root a wild wood sow, + A female cat between the two. + All busy with maternal labours, + They lived awhile obliging neighbours. + At last the cat's deceitful tongue + Broke up the peace of old and young. + Up climbing to the eagle's nest, + She said, with whisker'd lips compress'd, + 'Our death, or, what as much we mothers fear, + That of our helpless offspring dear, + Is surely drawing near. + Beneath our feet, see you not how + Destruction's plotted by the sow? + Her constant digging, soon or late, + Our proud old castle will uproot. + And then--O, sad and shocking fate!-- + She'll eat our young ones, as the fruit! + Were there but hope of saving one, + 'Twould soothe somewhat my bitter moan.' + Thus leaving apprehensions hideous, + Down went the puss perfidious + To where the sow, no longer digging, + Was in the very act of pigging. + 'Good friend and neighbour,' whisper'd she, + 'I warn you on your guard to be. + Your pigs should you but leave a minute, + This eagle here will seize them in it. + Speak not of this, I beg, at all, + Lest on my head her wrath should fall.' + Another breast with fear inspired, + With fiendish joy the cat retired. + The eagle ventured no egress + To feed her young, the sow still less. + Fools they, to think that any curse + Than ghastly famine could be worse! + Both staid at home, resolved and obstinate, + To save their young ones from impending fate,-- + The royal bird for fear of mine, + For fear of royal claws the swine. + All died, at length, with hunger, + The older and the younger; + There staid, of eagle race or boar, + Not one this side of death's dread door;-- + A sad misfortune, which + The wicked cats made rich. + O, what is there of hellish plot + The treacherous tongue dares not! + Of all the ills Pandora's box[13] outpour'd, + Deceit, I think, is most to be abhorr'd. + +[12] Phaedrus, II. 4. +[13] _Pandora's box._--Pandora, the Eve of the Grecian mythology, + was sent to earth with all the human ills and Hope in a box, whence + all but Hope escaped.--_Vide_ Elton's Hesiod, _Works and Days_, + I. 114, Bohn's edition, &c. + + + + +VII.--THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE.[14] + + Each has his fault, to which he clings + In spite of shame or fear. + This apophthegm a story brings, + To make its truth more clear. + A sot had lost health, mind, and purse; + And, truly, for that matter, + Sots mostly lose the latter + Ere running half their course. + When wine, one day, of wit had fill'd the room, + His wife inclosed him in a spacious tomb. + There did the fumes evaporate + At leisure from his drowsy pate. + When he awoke, he found + His body wrapp'd around + With grave-clothes, chill and damp, + Beneath a dim sepulchral lamp. + 'How's this? My wife a widow sad?' + He cried, 'and I a ghost? Dead? dead?' + Thereat his spouse, with snaky hair, + And robes like those the Furies wear, + With voice to fit the realms below, + Brought boiling caudle to his bier-- + For Lucifer the proper cheer; + By which her husband came to know-- + For he had heard of those three ladies-- + Himself a citizen of Hades. + 'What may your office be?' + The phantom question'd he. + 'I'm server up of Pluto's meat, + And bring his guests the same to eat.' + 'Well,' says the sot, not taking time to think, + 'And don't you bring us anything to drink?' + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE GOUT AND THE SPIDER.[15] + + When Nature angrily turn'd out + Those plagues, the spider and the gout,-- + 'See you,' said she, 'those huts so meanly built, + These palaces so grand and richly gilt? + By mutual agreement fix + Your choice of dwellings; or if not, + To end th' affair by lot, + Draw out these little sticks.' + 'The huts are not for me,' the spider cried; + 'And not for me the palace,' cried the gout; + For there a sort of men she spied + Call'd doctors, going in and out, + From whom, she could not hope for ease. + So hied her to the huts the fell disease, + And, fastening on a poor man's toe, + Hoped there to fatten on his woe, + And torture him, fit after fit, + Without a summons e'er to quit, + From old Hippocrates. + The spider, on the lofty ceiling, + As if she had a life-lease feeling. + Wove wide her cunning toils, + Soon rich with insect spoils. + A maid destroy'd them as she swept the room: + Repair'd, again they felt the fatal broom. + The wretched creature, every day, + From house and home must pack away. + At last, her courage giving out, + She went to seek her sister gout, + And in the field descried her, + Quite starved: more evils did betide her + Than e'er befel the poorest spider-- + Her toiling host enslaved her so, + And made her chop, and dig, and hoe! + (Says one, "Kept brisk and busy, + The gout is made half easy.") + 'O, when,' exclaim'd the sad disease, + 'Will this my misery stop? + O, sister spider, if you please, + Our places let us swop.' + The spider gladly heard, + And took her at her word,-- + And flourish'd in the cabin-lodge, + Not forced the tidy broom to dodge + The gout, selecting her abode + With an ecclesiastic judge, + Turn'd judge herself, and, by her code, + He from his couch no more could budge. + The salves and cataplasms Heaven knows, + That mock'd the misery of his toes; + While aye, without a blush, the curse, + Kept driving onward worse and worse. + Needless to say, the sisterhood + Thought their exchange both wise and good. + +[15] The story of this fable is told in Petrarch, (Epistles, III. 13) and + by others. + + + + +IX.--THE WOLF AND THE STORK.[16] + + The wolves are prone to play the glutton. + One, at a certain feast, 'tis said, + So stuff'd himself with lamb and mutton, + He seem'd but little short of dead. + Deep in his throat a bone stuck fast. + Well for this wolf, who could not speak, + That soon a stork quite near him pass'd. + By signs invited, with her beak + The bone she drew + With slight ado, + And for this skilful surgery + Demanded, modestly, her fee. + 'Your fee!' replied the wolf, + In accents rather gruff; + 'And is it not enough + Your neck is safe from such a gulf? + Go, for a wretch ingrate, + Nor tempt again your fate!' + +[16] Phaedrus, I. 8; and Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.[17] + + A picture once was shown, + In which one man, alone, + Upon the ground had thrown + A lion fully grown. + Much gloried at the sight the rabble. + A lion thus rebuked their babble:-- + 'That you have got the victory there, + There is no contradiction. + But, gentles, possibly you are + The dupes of easy fiction: + Had we the art of making pictures, + Perhaps our champion had beat yours!' + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.[18] + + A fox, almost with hunger dying, + Some grapes upon a trellis spying, + To all appearance ripe, clad in + Their tempting russet skin, + Most gladly would have eat them; + But since he could not get them, + So far above his reach the vine-- + 'They're sour,' he said; 'such grapes as these, + The dogs may eat them if they please!' + + Did he not better than to whine? + +[18] Aesop: Phaedrus, IV. 3. + + + + +XII.--THE SWAN AND THE COOK.[19] + + The pleasures of a poultry yard + Were by a swan and gosling shared. + The swan was kept there for his looks, + The thrifty gosling for the cooks; + The first the garden's pride, the latter + A greater favourite on the platter. + They swam the ditches, side by side, + And oft in sports aquatic vied, + Plunging, splashing far and wide, + With rivalry ne'er satisfied. + One day the cook, named Thirsty John, + Sent for the gosling, took the swan, + In haste his throat to cut, + And put him in the pot. + The bird's complaint resounded + In glorious melody; + Whereat the cook, astounded + His sad mistake to see, + Cried, 'What! make soup of a musician! + Please God, I'll never set such dish on. + No, no; I'll never cut a throat + That sings so sweet a note.' + + 'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, + Sweet words will never harm us. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THE WOLVES AND THE SHEEP.[20] + + By-gone a thousand years of war, + The wearers of the fleece + And wolves at last made peace; + Which both appear'd the better for; + For if the wolves had now and then + Eat up a straggling ewe or wether, + As often had the shepherd men + Turn'd wolf-skins into leather. + Fear always spoil'd the verdant herbage, + And so it did the bloody carnage. + Hence peace was sweet; and, lest it should be riven, + On both sides hostages were given. + The sheep, as by the terms arranged, + For pups of wolves their dogs exchanged; + Which being done above suspicion, + Confirm'd and seal'd by high commission, + What time the pups were fully grown, + And felt an appetite for prey, + And saw the sheepfold left alone, + The shepherds all away, + They seized the fattest lambs they could, + And, choking, dragg'd them to the wood; + Of which, by secret means apprised, + Their sires, as is surmised, + Fell on the hostage guardians of the sheep, + And slew them all asleep. + So quick the deed of perfidy was done, + There fled to tell the tale not one! + + From which we may conclude + That peace with villains will be rued. + Peace in itself, 'tis true, + May be a good for you; + But 'tis an evil, nathless, + When enemies are faithless. + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE LION GROWN OLD.[21] + + A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane + Of might once dreaded through his wild domain, + Was mock'd, at last, upon his throne, + By subjects of his own, + Strong through his weakness grown. + The horse his head saluted with a kick; + The wolf snapp'd at his royal hide; + The ox, too, gored him in the side; + The unhappy lion, sad and sick, + Could hardly growl, he was so weak. + In uncomplaining, stoic pride, + He waited for the hour of fate, + Until the ass approach'd his gate; + Whereat, 'This is too much,' he saith; + 'I willingly would yield my breath; + But, ah! thy kick is double death!' + +[21] Phaedrus, I. 21. + + + + +XV.--PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.[22] + + From home and city spires, one day, + The swallow Progne flew away, + And sought the bosky dell + Where sang poor Philomel.[23] + 'My sister,' Progne said, 'how do you do? + 'Tis now a thousand years since you + Have been conceal'd from human view; + I'm sure I have not seen your face + Once since the times of Thrace. + Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?' + 'Where could I find,' said Philomel, 'so sweet?' + 'What! sweet?' cried Progne--'sweet to waste + Such tones on beasts devoid of taste, + Or on some rustic, at the most! + Should you by deserts be engross'd? + Come, be the city's pride and boast. + Besides, the woods remind of harms + That Tereus in them did your charms.' + 'Alas!' replied the bird of song, + 'The thought of that so cruel wrong + Makes me, from age to age, + Prefer this hermitage; + For nothing like the sight of men + Can call up what I suffer'd then.' + +[22] Aesop. +[23] _Progne and Philomel_.--Progne and Philomela, sisters, in + mythology. Progne was Queen of Thrace, and was changed into a + swallow. Her sister was changed into a nightingale; _vide_ Ovid, + _Metamorphoses_. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOMAN DROWNED.[24] + + I hate that saying, old and savage, + "'Tis nothing but a woman drowning." + That's much, I say. What grief more keen should have edge + Than loss of her, of all our joys the crowning? + Thus much suggests the fable I am borrowing. + A woman perish'd in the water, + Where, anxiously, and sorrowing, + Her husband sought her, + To ease the grief he could not cure, + By honour'd rites of sepulture. + It chanced that near the fatal spot, + Along the stream which had + Produced a death so sad, + There walk'd some men that knew it not. + The husband ask'd if they had seen + His wife, or aught that hers had been. + One promptly answer'd, 'No! + But search the stream below: + It must nave borne her in its flow.' + 'No,' said another; 'search above. + In that direction + She would have floated, by the love + Of contradiction.' + This joke was truly out of season;-- + I don't propose to weigh its reason. + But whether such propensity + The sex's fault may be, + Or not, one thing is very sure, + Its own propensities endure. + Up to the end they'll have their will, + And, if it could be, further still. + +[24] Verdizotti. + + + + +XVII.--THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.[25] + + A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, + (She was recovering from disease,) + Which led her to a farmer's hoard. + There lodged, her wasted form she cherish'd; + Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored + That by her gnawing perish'd! + Of which the consequence + Was sudden corpulence. + A week or so was past, + When having fully broken fast. + A noise she heard, and hurried + To find the hole by which she came, + And seem'd to find it not the same; + So round she ran, most sadly flurried; + And, coming back, thrust out her head, + Which, sticking there, she said, + 'This is the hole, there can't be blunder: + What makes it now so small, I wonder, + Where, but the other day, I pass'd with ease?' + A rat her trouble sees, + And cries, 'But with an emptier belly; + You enter'd lean, and lean must sally.' + What I have said to you + Has eke been said to not a few, + Who, in a vast variety of cases,[26] + Have ventured into such-like places. + +[25] Aesop: also in Horace, _Epistles_, Book I. 7. +[26] _A vast variety of cases_.--Chamfort says of this passage: "La + Fontaine, with his usual delicacy, here alludes to the king's + farmers and other officers in place; and abruptly quits the subject + as if he felt himself on ticklish ground." + + + + +XVIII.--THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT.[27] + + A story-writer of our sort + Historifies, in short, + Of one that may be reckon'd + A Rodilard the Second,--[28] + The Alexander of the cats, + The Attila,[29] the scourge of rats, + Whose fierce and whisker'd head + Among the latter spread, + A league around, its dread; + Who seem'd, indeed, determined + The world should be unvermined. + The planks with props more false than slim, + The tempting heaps of poison'd meal, + The traps of wire and traps of steel, + Were only play compared with him. + At length, so sadly were they scared. + The rats and mice no longer dared + To show their thievish faces + Outside their hiding-places, + Thus shunning all pursuit; whereat + Our crafty General Cat + Contrived to hang himself, as dead, + Beside the wall with downward head, + Resisting gravitation's laws + By clinging with his hinder claws + To some small bit of string. + The rats esteem'd the thing + A judgment for some naughty deed, + Some thievish snatch, + Or ugly scratch; + And thought their foe had got his meed + By being hung indeed. + With hope elated all + Of laughing at his funeral, + They thrust their noses out in air; + And now to show their heads they dare; + Now dodging back, now venturing more; + At last upon the larder's store + They fall to filching, as of yore. + A scanty feast enjoy'd these shallows; + Down dropp'd the hung one from his gallows, + And of the hindmost caught. + 'Some other tricks to me are known,' + Said he, while tearing bone from bone, + 'By long experience taught; + The point is settled, free from doubt, + That from your holes you shall come out.' + His threat as good as prophecy + Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly; + For, putting on a mealy robe, + He squatted in an open tub, + And held his purring and his breath;-- + Out came the vermin to their death. + On this occasion, one old stager, + A rat as grey as any badger, + Who had in battle lost his tail, + Abstained from smelling at the meal; + And cried, far off, 'Ah! General Cat, + I much suspect a heap like that; + Your meal is not the thing, perhaps, + For one who knows somewhat of traps; + Should you a sack of meal become, + I'd let you be, and stay at home.' + + Well said, I think, and prudently, + By one who knew distrust to be + The parent of security. + +[27] Phaedrus, Book IV. 2: also in Aesop, and Faerno. +[28] _Rodilard the Second._--Another allusion to Rabelais's cat + Rodilardus. See Fable II., Book II. +[29] _Attila_.--The King of the Huns, who, for overrunning half Europe, + was termed the Scourge of God. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK IV. + + +I.--THE LION IN LOVE.[1] + +To Mademoiselle De Sévigné.[2] + + Sévigné, type of every grace + In female form and face, + In your regardlessness of men, + Can you show favour when + The sportive fable craves your ear, + And see, unmoved by fear, + A lion's haughty heart + Thrust through by Love's audacious dart? + Strange conqueror, Love! And happy he, + And strangely privileged and free, + Who only knows by story + Him and his feats of glory! + If on this subject you are wont + To think the simple truth too blunt, + The fabulous may less affront; + Which now, inspired with gratitude, + Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, + Doth venture to intrude + Within your maiden solitude, + And kneel, your humble servant.-- + In times when animals were speakers, + Among the quadrupedal seekers + Of our alliance + There came the lions. + And wherefore not? for then + They yielded not to men + In point of courage or of sense, + Nor were in looks without pretence. + A high-born lion, on his way + Across a meadow, met one day + A shepherdess, who charm'd him so, + That, as such matters ought to go, + He sought the maiden for his bride. + Her sire, it cannot be denied, + Had much preferr'd a son-in-law + Of less terrific mouth and paw. + It was not easy to decide-- + The lion might the gift abuse-- + 'Twas not quite prudent to refuse. + And if refusal there should be, + Perhaps a marriage one would see, + Some morning, made clandestinely. + For, over and above + The fact that she could bear + With none but males of martial air, + The lady was in love + With him of shaggy hair. + Her sire, much wanting cover + To send away the lover, + Thus spoke:--'My daughter, sir, + Is delicate. I fear to her + Your fond caressings + Will prove rough blessings. + To banish all alarm + About such sort of harm, + Permit us to remove the cause, + By filing off your teeth and claws. + In such a case, your royal kiss + Will be to her a safer bliss, + And to yourself a sweeter; + Since she will more respond + To those endearments fond + With which you greet her.' + The lion gave consent at once, + By love so great a dunce! + Without a tooth or claw now view him-- + A fort with cannon spiked. + The dogs, let loose upon him, slew him, + All biting safely where they liked. + + O, tyrant Love! when held by you, + We may to prudence bid adieu. + +[1] Aesop, also Verdizotti. +[2] _Mademoiselle de Sévigné_.--Francoise-Marguerite de Sévigné, + afterwards Madame de Grignan, the daughter of the celebrated Madame + de Sévigné. The famous Sévigné "Letters" were for the most part + addressed to Madame de Grignan. For some account of Madame de Sévigné + and La Fontaine, see the Translator's Preface; also note to Fable XI. + Book VII. + + + + +II.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA.[3] + + A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, + Lived with his flock contentedly. + His fortune, though but small, + Was safe within his call. + At last some stranded kegs of gold + Him tempted, and his flock he sold, + Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves + Bore all his treasure--to its caves. + Brought back to keeping sheep once more, + But not chief shepherd, as before, + When sheep were his that grazed the shore, + He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis, + Might once have shone in pastoral verses, + Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre, + Was nothing now but Peter. + But time and toil redeem'd in full + Those harmless creatures rich in wool; + And as the lulling winds, one day, + The vessels wafted with a gentle motion, + 'Want you,' he cried, 'more money, Madam Ocean? + Address yourself to some one else, I pray; + You shall not get it out of me! + I know too well your treachery.' + + This tale's no fiction, but a fact, + Which, by experience back'd, + Proves that a single penny, + At present held, and certain, + Is worth five times as many, + Of Hope's, beyond the curtain; + That one should be content with his condition, + And shut his ears to counsels of ambition, + More faithless than the wreck-strown sea, and which + Doth thousands beggar where it makes one rich,-- + Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms, + And blasts the same with piracy and storms. + +[3] Aesop. + + + + +III.--THE FLY AND THE ANT.[4] + + A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, + Discuss'd the question of their rank. + 'O Jupiter!' the former said, + 'Can love of self so turn the head, + That one so mean and crawling, + And of so low a calling, + To boast equality shall dare + With me, the daughter of the air? + In palaces I am a guest, + And even at thy glorious feast. + Whene'er the people that adore thee + May immolate for thee a bullock, + I'm sure to taste the meat before thee. + Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock, + Is living on some bit of straw + Which she has labour'd home to draw. + But tell me now, my little thing, + Do you camp ever on a king, + An emperor, or lady? + I do, and have full many a play-day + On fairest bosom of the fair, + And sport myself upon her hair. + Come now, my hearty, rack your brain + To make a case about your grain.' + 'Well, have you done?' replied the ant. + 'You enter palaces, I grant, + And for it get right soundly cursed. + Of sacrifices, rich and fat, + Your taste, quite likely, is the first;-- + Are they the better off for that? + You enter with the holy train; + So enters many a wretch profane. + On heads of kings and asses you may squat; + Deny your vaunting I will not; + But well such impudence, I know, + Provokes a sometimes fatal blow. + The name in which your vanity delights + Is own'd as well by parasites, + And spies that die by ropes--as you soon will + By famine or by ague-chill, + When Phoebus goes to cheer + The other hemisphere,-- + The very time to me most dear. + Not forced abroad to go + Through wind, and rain, and snow, + My summer's work I then enjoy, + And happily my mind employ, + From care by care exempted. + By which this truth I leave to you, + That by two sorts of glory we are tempted, + The false one and the true. + Work waits, time flies; adieu:-- + This gabble does not fill + My granary or till.' + +[4] Phaedrus, IV. 23. + + + + +IV.--THE GARDENER AND HIS LORD. + + A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, + Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town; + And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed, + Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed, + A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme, + Grew gaily, and all in their prime + To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet, + The grace of her bright wedding day. + For poaching in such a nice field--'twas a shame; + A foraging, cud-chewing hare was to blame. + Whereof the good owner bore down + This tale to the lord of the town:-- + 'Some mischievous animal, morning and night, + In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite. + He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and snares; + For clubbing and stoning as little he cares. + I think him a wizard. A wizard! the coot! + I'd catch him if he were a devil to boot!' + The lord said, in haste to have sport for his hounds, + 'I'll clear him, I warrant you, out of your grounds; + To morrow I'll do it without any fail.' + + The thing thus agreed on, all hearty and hale, + The lord and his party, at crack of the dawn, + With hounds at their heels canter'd over the lawn. + Arrived, said the lord in his jovial mood, + 'We'll breakfast with you, if your chickens are good. + That lass, my good man, I suppose is your daughter: + No news of a son-in-law? Any one sought her? + No doubt, by the score. Keep an eye on the docket, + Eh? Dost understand me? I speak of the pocket.' + So saying, the daughter he graciously greeted, + And close by his lordship he bade her be seated; + Avow'd himself pleased with so handsome a maid, + And then with her kerchief familiarly play'd,-- + Impertinent freedoms the virtuous fair + Repell'd with a modest and lady-like air,-- + So much that her father a little suspected + The girl had already a lover elected. + Meanwhile in the kitchen what bustling and cooking! + 'For what are your hams? They are very good looking.' + 'They're kept for your lordship.' 'I take them,' said he; + 'Such elegant flitches are welcome to me.' + He breakfasted finely his troop, with delight,-- + Dogs, horses, and grooms of the best appetite. + Thus he govern'd his host in the shape of a guest, + Unbottled his wine, and his daughter caress'd. + To breakfast, the huddle of hunters succeeds, + The yelping of dogs and the neighing of steeds, + All cheering and fixing for wonderful deeds; + The horns and the bugles make thundering din; + Much wonders our gardener what it can mean. + The worst is, his garden most wofully fares; + Adieu to its arbours, and borders, and squares; + Adieu to its chiccory, onions, and leeks; + Adieu to whatever good cookery seeks. + + Beneath a great cabbage the hare was in bed, + Was started, and shot at, and hastily fled. + Off went the wild chase, with a terrible screech, + And not through a hole, but a horrible breach, + Which some one had made, at the beck of the lord, + Wide through the poor hedge! 'Twould have been quite absurd + Should lordship not freely from garden go out, + On horseback, attended by rabble and rout. + Scarce suffer'd the gard'ner his patience to wince, + Consoling himself--'Twas the sport of a prince; + While bipeds and quadrupeds served to devour, + And trample, and waste, in the space of an hour, + Far more than a nation of foraging hares + Could possibly do in a hundred of years. + + Small princes, this story is true, + When told in relation to you. + In settling your quarrels with kings for your tools, + You prove yourselves losers and eminent fools. + + + + +V.--THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.[5] + + One's native talent from its course + Cannot be turned aside by force; + But poorly apes the country clown + The polish'd manners of the town. + Their Maker chooses but a few + With power of pleasing to imbue; + Where wisely leave it we, the mass, + Unlike a certain fabled ass, + That thought to gain his master's blessing + By jumping on him and caressing. + 'What!' said the donkey in his heart; + 'Ought it to be that puppy's part + To lead his useless life + In full companionship + With master and his wife, + While I must bear the whip? + What doth the cur a kiss to draw? + Forsooth, he only gives his paw! + If that is all there needs to please, + I'll do the thing myself, with ease.' + Possess'd with this bright notion,-- + His master sitting on his chair, + At leisure in the open air,-- + He ambled up, with awkward motion, + And put his talents to the proof; + Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof, + And, with an amiable mien, + His master patted on the chin, + The action gracing with a word-- + The fondest bray that e'er was heard! + O, such caressing was there ever? + Or melody with such a quaver? + 'Ho! Martin![6] here! a club, a club bring!' + Out cried the master, sore offended. + So Martin gave the ass a drubbing,-- + And so the comedy was ended. + +[5] Aesop. +[6] _Martin_.--La Fontaine has "Martin-bâton," a name for a groom or + ostler armed with his cudgel of office, taken from Rabelais. + + + + +VI.--THE BATTLE OF THE RATS AND THE WEASELS.[7] + + The weasels live, no more than cats, + On terms of friendship with the rats; + And, were it not that these + Through doors contrive to squeeze + Too narrow for their foes, + The animals long-snouted + Would long ago have routed, + And from the planet scouted + Their race, as I suppose. + + One year it did betide, + When they were multiplied, + An army took the field + Of rats, with spear and shield, + Whose crowded ranks led on + A king named Ratapon. + The weasels, too, their banner + Unfurl'd in warlike manner. + As Fame her trumpet sounds, + The victory balanced well; + Enrich'd were fallow grounds + Where slaughter'd legions fell; + But by said trollop's tattle, + The loss of life in battle + Thinn'd most the rattish race + In almost every place; + And finally their rout + Was total, spite of stout + Artarpax and Psicarpax, + And valiant Meridarpax,[8] + Who, cover'd o'er with dust, + Long time sustain'd their host + Down sinking on the plain. + Their efforts were in vain; + Fate ruled that final hour, + (Inexorable power!) + And so the captains fled + As well as those they led; + The princes perish'd all. + The undistinguish'd small + In certain holes found shelter, + In crowding, helter-skelter; + But the nobility + Could not go in so free, + Who proudly had assumed + Each one a helmet plumed; + We know not, truly, whether + For honour's sake the feather, + Or foes to strike with terror; + But, truly, 'twas their error. + Nor hole, nor crack, nor crevice + Will let their head-gear in; + While meaner rats in bevies + An easy passage win;-- + So that the shafts of fate + Do chiefly hit the great. + + A feather in the cap + Is oft a great mishap. + An equipage too grand + Comes often to a stand + Within a narrow place. + The small, whate'er the case, + With ease slip through a strait, + Where larger folks must wait. + +[7] Phaedrus, Book IV. 6. +[8] Names of rats, invented by Homer.--Translator. + + + + +VII.--THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN.[9] + + It was the custom of the Greeks + For passengers o'er sea to carry + Both monkeys full of tricks + And funny dogs to make them merry. + A ship, that had such things on deck, + Not far from Athens, went to wreck. + But for the dolphins, all had drown'd. + They are a philanthropic fish, + Which fact in Pliny may be found;-- + A better voucher who could wish? + They did their best on this occasion. + A monkey even, on their plan + Well nigh attain'd his own salvation; + A dolphin took him for a man, + And on his dorsal gave him place. + So grave the silly creature's face, + That one might well have set him down + That old musician of renown.[10] + The fish had almost reach'd the land, + When, as it happen'd,--what a pity!-- + He ask'd, 'Are you from Athens grand?' + 'Yes; well they know me in that city. + If ever you have business there, + I'll help you do it, for my kin + The highest offices are in. + My cousin, sir, is now lord mayor.' + The dolphin thank'd him, with good grace, + Both for himself and all his race, + And ask'd, 'You doubtless know Piraeus, + Where, should we come to town, you'll see us.' + 'Piraeus? yes, indeed I know; + He was my crony long ago.' + The dunce knew not the harbour's name, + And for a man's mistook the same. + The people are by no means few, + Who never went ten miles from home, + Nor know their market-town from Rome, + Yet cackle just as if they knew. + The dolphin laugh'd, and then began + His rider's form and face to scan, + And found himself about to save + From fishy feasts, beneath the wave, + A mere resemblance of a man. + So, plunging down, he turn'd to find + Some drowning wight of human kind. + +[9] Aesop. +[10] Arion.--Translator. + According to Herodotus, I. 24 (Bonn's ed., p. 9), Arion, the son of + Cyclon of Methymna, and famous lyric poet and musician, having won + riches at a musical contest in Sicily, was voyaging home, when the + sailors of his ship determined to murder him for his treasure. He + asked to be allowed to play a tune; and as soon as he had finished + he threw himself into the sea. It was then found that the music had + attracted a number of dolphins round the ship, and one of these took + the bard on its back and conveyed him safely to Taenarus. + + + + +VIII.--THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.[11] + + A pagan kept a god of wood,-- + A sort that never hears, + Though furnish'd well with ears,-- + From which he hoped for wondrous good. + The idol cost the board of three; + So much enrich'd was he + With vows and offerings vain, + With bullocks garlanded and slain: + No idol ever had, as that, + A kitchen quite so full and fat. + But all this worship at his shrine + Brought not from this same block divine + Inheritance, or hidden mine, + Or luck at play, or any favour. + Nay, more, if any storm whatever + Brew'd trouble here or there, + The man was sure to have his share, + And suffer in his purse, + Although the god fared none the worse. + At last, by sheer impatience bold, + The man a crowbar seizes, + His idol breaks in pieces, + And finds it richly stuff'd with gold. + 'How's this? Have I devoutly treated,' + Says he, 'your godship, to be cheated? + Now leave my house, and go your way, + And search for altars where you may. + You're like those natures, dull and gross, + From, which comes nothing but by blows; + The more I gave, the less I got; + I'll now be rich, and you may rot.' + +[11] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE JAY IN THE FEATHERS OF THE PEACOCK.[12] + + A peacock moulted: soon a jay was seen + Bedeck'd with Argus tail of gold and green,[13] + High strutting, with elated crest, + As much a peacock as the rest. + His trick was recognized and bruited, + His person jeer'd at, hiss'd, and hooted. + The peacock gentry flock'd together, + And pluck'd the fool of every feather. + Nay more, when back he sneak'd to join his race, + They shut their portals in his face. + + There is another sort of jay, + The number of its legs the same, + Which makes of borrow'd plumes display, + And plagiary is its name. + But hush! the tribe I'll not offend; + 'Tis not my work their ways to mend. + +[12] Aesop; Phaedrus, I. 3. +[13] _Argus tail of gold and green._--According to mythology, Argus, + surnamed Panoptes (or all-seeing), possessed a hundred eyes, some of + which were never closed in sleep. At his death Juno either + transformed him into the peacock, or transferred his hundred eyes to + the tail of that, her favourite, bird. "Argus tail of gold and + green," therefore, means tail endowed with the eyes of Argus. + + + + +X.--THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.[14] + + The first who saw the humpback'd camel + Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; + The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare + The desert wanderer to trammel. + Such is the power of use to change + The face of objects new and strange; + Which grow, by looking at, so tame, + They do not even seem the same. + And since this theme is up for our attention, + A certain watchman I will mention, + Who, seeing something far + Away upon the ocean, + Could not but speak his notion + That 'twas a ship of war. + Some minutes more had past,-- + A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail, + And then a boat, and then a bale, + And floating sticks of wood at last! + + Full many things on earth, I wot, + Will claim this tale,--and well they may; + They're something dreadful far away, + But near at hand--they're not. + +[14] Aesop. + + + + +XI.--THE FROG AND THE RAT.[15] + + They to bamboozle are inclined, + Saith Merlin,[16] who bamboozled are. + The word, though rather unrefined, + Has yet an energy we ill can spare; + So by its aid I introduce my tale. + A well-fed rat, rotund and hale, + Not knowing either Fast or Lent, + Disporting round a frog-pond went. + A frog approach'd, and, with a friendly greeting, + Invited him to see her at her home, + And pledged a dinner worth his eating,-- + To which the rat was nothing loath to come. + Of words persuasive there was little need: + She spoke, however, of a grateful bath; + Of sports and curious wonders on their path; + Of rarities of flower, and rush, and reed: + One day he would recount with glee + To his assembled progeny + The various beauties of these places, + The customs of the various races, + And laws that sway the realms aquatic, + (She did not mean the hydrostatic!) + One thing alone the rat perplex'd,-- + He was but moderate as a swimmer. + The frog this matter nicely fix'd + By kindly lending him her + Long paw, which with a rush she tied + To his; and off they started, side by side. + Arrived upon the lakelet's brink, + There was but little time to think. + The frog leap'd in, and almost brought her + Bound guest to land beneath the water. + Perfidious breach of law and right! + She meant to have a supper warm + Out of his sleek and dainty form. + Already did her appetite + Dwell on the morsel with delight. + The gods, in anguish, he invokes; + His faithless hostess rudely mocks; + He struggles up, she struggles down. + A kite, that hovers in the air, + Inspecting everything with care, + Now spies the rat belike to drown, + And, with a rapid wing, + Upbears the wretched thing, + The frog, too, dangling by the string! + The joy of such a double haul + Was to the hungry kite not small. + It gave him all that he could wish-- + A double meal of flesh and fish. + + The best contrived deceit + Can hurt its own contriver, + And perfidy doth often cheat + Its author's purse of every stiver. + +[15] Aesop. +[16] _Merlin._--This is Merlin, the wizard of the old French novels. + + + + +XII.--THE ANIMALS SENDING TRIBUTE TO ALEXANDER.[17] + + A fable flourished with antiquity + Whose meaning I could never clearly see. + Kind reader, draw the moral if you're able: + I give you here the naked fable. + Fame having bruited that a great commander, + A son of Jove, a certain Alexander, + Resolved to leave nought free on this our ball, + Had to his footstool gravely summon'd all + Men, quadrupeds, and nullipeds, together + With all the bird-republics, every feather,-- + The goddess of the hundred mouths, I say, + Thus having spread dismay, + By widely publishing abroad + This mandate of the demigod, + The animals, and all that do obey + Their appetite alone, mistrusted now + That to another sceptre they must bow. + Far in the desert met their various races, + All gathering from their hiding-places. + Discuss'd was many a notion. + At last, it was resolved, on motion, + To pacify the conquering banner, + By sending homage in, and tribute. + With both the homage and its manner + They charged the monkey, as a glib brute; + And, lest the chap should too much chatter, + In black on white they wrote the matter. + Nought but the tribute served to fash, + As that must needs be paid in cash. + A prince, who chanced a mine to own, + At last, obliged them with a loan. + The mule and ass, to bear the treasure, + Their service tender'd, full of pleasure; + And then the caravan was none the worse, + Assisted by the camel and the horse. + Forthwith proceeded all the four + Behind the new ambassador, + And saw, erelong, within a narrow place, + Monseigneur Lion's quite unwelcome face. + 'Well met, and all in time,' said he; + 'Myself your fellow traveller will be. + I wend my tribute by itself to bear; + And though 'tis light, I well might spare + The unaccustom'd load. + Take each a quarter, if you please, + And I will guard you on the road; + More free and at my ease-- + In better plight, you understand, + To fight with any robber band.' + A lion to refuse, the fact is, + Is not a very usual practice: + So in he comes, for better and for worse; + Whatever he demands is done, + And, spite of Jove's heroic son, + He fattens freely from the public purse. + While wending on their way, + They found a spot one day, + With waters hemm'd, of crystal sheen; + Its carpet, flower-besprinkled green; + Where pastured at their ease + Both flocks of sheep and dainty heifers, + And play'd the cooling breeze-- + The native land of all the zephyrs. + No sooner is the lion there + Than of some sickness he complains. + Says he, 'You on your mission fare. + A fever, with its thirst and pains, + Dries up my blood, and bakes my brains; + And I must search some herb, + Its fatal power to curb. + For you, there is no time to waste; + Pay me my money, and make haste.' + The treasures were unbound, + And placed upon the ground. + Then, with a look which testified + His royal joy, the lion cried, + 'My coins, good heavens, have multiplied! + And see the young ones of the gold + As big already as the old! + The increase belongs to me, no doubt;' + And eagerly he took it out! + 'Twas little staid beneath the lid; + The wonder was that any did. + Confounded were the monkey and his suite. + And, dumb with fear, betook them to their way, + And bore complaint to Jove's great son, they say-- + Complaint without a reason meet; + For what could he? Though a celestial scion, + He could but fight, as lion versus lion. + + When corsairs battle, Turk with Turk, + They're not about their proper work. + +[17] The story of this fable has been traced to Gilbert Cousin, in whose + works it figures with the title "De Jovis Ammonis oraculo." Gilbert + Cousin was Canon of Nozeret, and wrote between 1506 and 1569. + + + + +XIII.--THE HORSE WISHING TO BE REVENGED UPON THE STAG.[18] + + The horses have not always been + The humble slaves of men. + When, in the far-off past, + The fare of gentlemen was mast, + And even hats were never felt, + Horse, ass, and mule in forests dwelt. + Nor saw one then, as in these ages, + So many saddles, housings, pillions; + Such splendid equipages, + With golden-lace postilions; + Such harnesses for cattle, + To be consumed in battle; + As one saw not so many feasts, + And people married by the priests. + The horse fell out, within that space, + With the antler'd stag, so fleetly made: + He could not catch him in a race, + And so he came to man for aid. + Man first his suppliant bitted; + Then, on his back well seated, + Gave chase with spear, and rested not + Till to the ground the foe he brought. + This done, the honest horse, quite blindly, + Thus thank'd his benefactor kindly:-- + 'Dear sir, I'm much obliged to you; + I'll back to savage life. Adieu!' + 'O, no,' the man replied; + 'You'd better here abide; + I know too well your use. + Here, free from all abuse, + Remain a liege to me, + And large your provender shall be.' + Alas! good housing or good cheer, + That costs one's liberty, is dear. + The horse his folly now perceived, + But quite too late he grieved. + No grief his fate could alter; + His stall was built, and there he lived, + And died there in his halter. + Ah! wise had he one small offence forgot! + Revenge, however sweet, is dearly bought + By that one good, which gone, all else is nought. + +[18] Phaedrus, IV. 4; Horace (_Epistles_, Book I. 10), and others. + + + + +XIV.--THE FOX AND THE BUST.[19] + + The great are like the maskers of the stage; + Their show deceives the simple of the age. + For all that they appear to be they pass, + With only those whose type's the ass. + The fox, more wary, looks beneath the skin, + And looks on every side, and, when he sees + That all their glory is a semblance thin, + He turns, and saves the hinges of his knees, + With such a speech as once, 'tis said, + He utter'd to a hero's head. + A bust, somewhat colossal in its size, + Attracted crowds of wondering eyes. + The fox admired the sculptor's pains: + 'Fine head,' said he, 'but void of brains!' + The same remark to many a lord applies. + +[19] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 7 (The Fox and the Tragic Mask). + + + + +XV.--THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.[20] + + As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, + And browse the herbage of a distant hill, + She latch'd her door, and bid, + With matron care, her kid;-- + 'My daughter, as you live, + This portal don't undo + To any creature who + This watchword does not give: + "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"' + The wolf was passing near the place + By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, + And laid them up as useful treasure; + And hardly need we mention, + Escaped the goat's attention. + No sooner did he see + The matron off, than he, + With hypocritic tone and face, + Cried out before the place, + 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!' + Not doubting thus to gain admission. + The kid, not void of all suspicion, + Peer'd through a crack, and cried, + 'Show me white paw before + You ask me to undo the door.' + The wolf could not, if he had died, + For wolves have no connexion + With paws of that complexion. + So, much surprised, our gormandiser + Retired to fast till he was wiser. + How would the kid have been undone + Had she but trusted to the word + The wolf by chance had overheard! + Two sureties better are than one; + And caution's worth its cost, + Though sometimes seeming lost. + +[20] Corrozet; and others. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND HER CHILD.[21] + + This wolf another brings to mind, + Who found dame Fortune more unkind, + In that the greedy, pirate sinner, + Was balk'd of life as well as dinner. + As saith our tale, a villager + Dwelt in a by, unguarded place; + There, hungry, watch'd our pillager + For luck and chance to mend his case. + For there his thievish eyes had seen + All sorts of game go out and in-- + Nice sucking calves, and lambs and sheep; + And turkeys by the regiment, + With steps so proud, and necks so bent, + They'd make a daintier glutton weep. + The thief at length began to tire + Of being gnaw'd by vain desire. + Just then a child set up a cry: + 'Be still,' the mother said, 'or I + Will throw you to the wolf, you brat!' + 'Ha, ha!' thought he, 'what talk is that! + The gods be thank'd for luck so good!' + And ready at the door he stood, + When soothingly the mother said, + 'Now cry no more, my little dear; + That naughty wolf, if he comes here, + Your dear papa shall kill him dead.' + 'Humph!' cried the veteran mutton-eater. + 'Now this, now that! Now hot, now cool! + Is this the way they change their metre? + And do they take me for a fool? + Some day, a nutting in the wood, + That young one yet shall be my food.' + But little time has he to dote + On such a feast; the dogs rush out + And seize the caitiff by the throat; + And country ditchers, thick and stout, + With rustic spears and forks of iron, + The hapless animal environ. + 'What brought you here, old head?' cried one. + He told it all, as I have done. + 'Why, bless my soul!' the frantic mother said,-- + 'You, villain, eat my little son! + And did I nurse the darling boy, + Your fiendish appetite to cloy?' + With that they knock'd him on the head. + His feet and scalp they bore to town, + To grace the seigneur's hall, + Where, pinn'd against the wall, + This verse completed his renown:-- + "Ye honest wolves, believe not all + That mothers say, when children squall!" + +[21] Aesop; and others. + + + + +XVII.--THE WORDS OF SOCRATES.[22] + + A house was built by Socrates + That failed the public taste to please. + Some blamed the inside; some, the out; and all + Agreed that the apartments were too small. + Such rooms for him, the greatest sage of Greece! + 'I ask,' said he, 'no greater bliss + Than real friends to fill e'en this.' + And reason had good Socrates + To think his house too large for these. + A crowd to be your friends will claim, + Till some unhandsome test you bring. + There's nothing plentier than the name; + There's nothing rarer than the thing. + +[22] Phaedrus, III. 9. + + + + +XVIII.--THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS.[23] + + All power is feeble with dissension: + For this I quote the Phrygian slave.[24] + If aught I add to his invention, + It is our manners to engrave, + And not from any envious wishes;-- + I'm not so foolishly ambitious. + Phaedrus enriches oft his story, + In quest--I doubt it not--of glory: + Such thoughts were idle in my breast. + An aged man, near going to his rest, + His gather'd sons thus solemnly address'd:-- + 'To break this bunch of arrows you may try; + And, first, the string that binds them I untie.' + The eldest, having tried with might and main, + Exclaim'd, 'This bundle I resign + To muscles sturdier than mine.' + The second tried, and bow'd himself in vain. + The youngest took them with the like success. + All were obliged their weakness to confess. + Unharm'd the arrows pass'd from son to son; + Of all they did not break a single one. + 'Weak fellows!' said their sire, 'I now must show + What in the case my feeble strength can do.' + They laugh'd, and thought their father but in joke, + Till, one by one, they saw the arrows broke. + 'See, concord's power!' replied the sire; 'as long + As you in love agree, you will be strong. + I go, my sons, to join our fathers good; + Now promise me to live as brothers should, + And soothe by this your dying father's fears.' + Each strictly promised with a flood of tears. + Their father took them by the hand, and died; + And soon the virtue of their vows was tried. + Their sire had left a large estate + Involved in lawsuits intricate; + Here seized a creditor, and there + A neighbour levied for a share. + At first the trio nobly bore + The brunt of all this legal war. + But short their friendship as 'twas rare. + Whom blood had join'd--and small the wonder!-- + The force of interest drove asunder; + And, as is wont in such affairs, + Ambition, envy, were co-heirs. + In parcelling their sire's estate, + They quarrel, quibble, litigate, + Each aiming to supplant the other. + The judge, by turns, condemns each brother. + Their creditors make new assault, + Some pleading error, some default. + The sunder'd brothers disagree; + For counsel one, have counsels three. + All lose their wealth; and now their sorrows + Bring fresh to mind those broken arrows. + +[23] Aesop, Avianus, and others. +[24] _Phrygan slave._--Aesop. See Translator's Preface. + + + + +XIX.--THE ORACLE AND THE ATHEIST.[25] + + That man his Maker can deceive, + Is monstrous folly to believe. + The labyrinthine mazes of the heart + Are open to His eyes in every part. + Whatever one may do, or think, or feel, + From Him no darkness can the thing conceal. + A pagan once, of graceless heart and hollow, + Whose faith in gods, I'm apprehensive, + Was quite as real as expensive. + Consulted, at his shrine, the god Apollo. + 'Is what I hold alive, or not?' + Said he,--a sparrow having brought, + Prepared to wring its neck, or let it fly, + As need might be, to give the god the lie. + Apollo saw the trick, + And answer'd quick, + 'Dead or alive, show me your sparrow, + And cease to set for me a trap + Which can but cause yourself mishap. + I see afar, and far I shoot my arrow.' + +[25] Aesop. + + + + +XX.--THE MISER WHO HAD LOST HIS TREASURE.[26] + + 'Tis use that constitutes possession. + I ask that sort of men, whose passion + It is to get and never spend, + Of all their toil what is the end? + What they enjoy of all their labours + Which do not equally their neighbours? + Throughout this upper mortal strife, + The miser leads a beggar's life. + Old Aesop's man of hidden treasure + May serve the case to demonstrate. + He had a great estate, + But chose a second life to wait + Ere he began to taste his pleasure. + This man, whom gold so little bless'd, + Was not possessor, but possess'd. + His cash he buried under ground, + Where only might his heart be found; + It being, then, his sole delight + To ponder of it day and night, + And consecrate his rusty pelf, + A sacred offering, to himself. + In all his eating, drinking, travel, + Most wondrous short of funds he seem'd; + One would have thought he little dream'd + Where lay such sums beneath the gravel. + A ditcher mark'd his coming to the spot, + So frequent was it, + And thus at last some little inkling got + Of the deposit. + He took it all, and babbled not. + One morning, ere the dawn, + Forth had our miser gone + To worship what he loved the best, + When, lo! he found an empty nest! + Alas! what groaning, wailing, crying! + What deep and bitter sighing! + His torment makes him tear + Out by the roots his hair. + A passenger demandeth why + Such marvellous outcry. + 'They've got my gold! it's gone--it's gone!' + 'Your gold! pray where?'--'Beneath this stone.' + 'Why, man, is this a time of war, + That you should bring your gold so far? + You'd better keep it in your drawer; + And I'll be bound, if once but in it, + You could have got it any minute.' + 'At any minute! Ah, Heaven knows + That cash comes harder than it goes! + I touch'd it not.'--'Then have the grace + To explain to me that rueful face,' + Replied the man; 'for, if 'tis true + You touch'd it not, how plain the case, + That, put the stone back in its place, + And all will be as well for you!' + +[26] Aesop, and others. + + + + +XXI.--THE EYE OF THE MASTER.[27] + + A stag took refuge from the chase + Among the oxen of a stable, + Who counsel'd him, as saith the fable, + To seek at once some safer place. + 'My brothers,' said the fugitive, + 'Betray me not, and, as I live, + The richest pasture I will show, + That e'er was grazed on, high or low; + Your kindness you will not regret, + For well some day I'll pay the debt.' + The oxen promised secrecy. + Down crouch'd the stag, and breathed more free. + At eventide they brought fresh hay, + As was their custom day by day; + And often came the servants near, + As did indeed the overseer, + But with so little thought or care, + That neither horns, nor hide, nor hair + Reveal'd to them the stag was there. + Already thank'd the wild-wood stranger + The oxen for their treatment kind, + And there to wait made up his mind, + Till he might issue free from danger. + Replied an ox that chew'd the cud, + 'Your case looks fairly in the bud; + But then I fear the reason why + Is, that the man of sharpest eye + Hath not yet come his look to take. + I dread his coming, for your sake; + Your boasting may be premature: + Till then, poor stag, you're not secure.' + 'Twas but a little while before + The careful master oped the door. + 'How's this, my boys?' said he; + 'These empty racks will never do. + Go, change this dirty litter too. + More care than this I want to see + Of oxen that belong to me. + Well, Jim, my boy, you're young and stout; + What would it cost to clear these cobwebs out? + And put these yokes, and hames, and traces, + All as they should be, in their places?' + Thus looking round, he came to see + One head he did not usually. + The stag is found; his foes + Deal heavily their blows. + Down sinks he in the strife; + No tears can save his life. + They slay, and dress, and salt the beast, + And cook his flesh in many a feast, + And many a neighbour gets a taste. + As Phaedrus says it, pithily, + The master's is the eye to see:-- + I add the lover's, as for me. + +[27] Phaedrus, II. 8 (The Stag and the Oxen); and others. + + + + +XXII.--THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES WITH THE OWNER OF A FIELD.[28] + + "Depend upon yourself alone," + Has to a common proverb grown. + 'Tis thus confirm'd in Aesop's way:-- + The larks to build their nests are seen + Among the wheat-crops young and green; + That is to say, + What time all things, dame Nature heeding, + Betake themselves to love and breeding-- + The monstrous whales and sharks, + Beneath the briny flood, + The tigers in the wood, + And in the fields, the larks. + One she, however, of these last, + Found more than half the spring-time past + Without the taste of spring-time pleasures; + When firmly she set up her will + That she would be a mother still, + And resolutely took her measures;-- + First, got herself by Hymen match'd; + Then built her nest, laid, sat, and hatch'd. + All went as well as such things could. + The wheat-crop ripening ere the brood + Were strong enough to take their flight, + Aware how perilous their plight, + The lark went out to search for food, + And told her young to listen well, + And keep a constant sentinel. + 'The owner of this field,' said she, + 'Will come, I know, his grain to see. + Hear all he says; we little birds + Must shape our conduct by his words.' + No sooner was the lark away, + Than came the owner with his son. + 'This wheat is ripe,' said he: 'now run + And give our friends a call + To bring their sickles all, + And help us, great and small, + To-morrow, at the break of day.' + The lark, returning, found no harm, + Except her nest in wild alarm. + Says one, 'We heard the owner say, + Go, give our friends a call + To help, to-morrow, break of day.' + Replied the lark, 'If that is all, + We need not be in any fear, + But only keep an open ear. + As gay as larks, now eat your victuals.--' + They ate and slept--the great and littles. + The dawn arrives, but not the friends; + The lark soars up, the owner wends + His usual round to view his land. + 'This grain,' says he, 'ought not to stand. + Our friends do wrong; and so does he + Who trusts that friends will friendly be. + My son, go call our kith and kin + To help us get our harvest in.' + This second order made + The little larks still more afraid. + 'He sent for kindred, mother, by his son; + The work will now, indeed, be done.' + 'No, darlings; go to sleep; + Our lowly nest we'll keep.' + With reason said; for kindred there came none. + Thus, tired of expectation vain, + Once more the owner view'd his grain. + 'My son,' said he, 'we're surely fools + To wait for other people's tools; + As if one might, for love or pelf, + Have friends more faithful than himself! + Engrave this lesson deep, my son. + And know you now what must be done? + We must ourselves our sickles bring, + And, while the larks their matins sing, + Begin the work; and, on this plan, + Get in our harvest as we can.' + This plan the lark no sooner knew, + Than, 'Now's the time,' she said, 'my chicks;' + And, taking little time to fix, + Away they flew; + All fluttering, soaring, often grounding, + Decamp'd without a trumpet sounding. + +[28] Aesop (Aulus Gellus); Avianus. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK V. + + +I.--THE WOODMAN AND MERCURY.[1] + +To M. The Chevalier De Bouillon.[2] + + Your taste has served my work to guide; + To gain its suffrage I have tried. + You'd have me shun a care too nice, + Or beauty at too dear a price, + Or too much effort, as a vice. + My taste with yours agrees: + Such effort cannot please; + And too much pains about the polish + Is apt the substance to abolish; + Not that it would be right or wise + The graces all to ostracize. + You love them much when delicate; + Nor is it left for me to hate. + As to the scope of Aesop's plan,[3] + I fail as little as I can. + If this my rhymed and measured speech + Availeth not to please or teach, + I own it not a fault of mine; + Some unknown reason I assign. + With little strength endued + For battles rough and rude, + Or with Herculean arm to smite, + I show to vice its foolish plight. + In this my talent wholly lies; + Not that it does at all suffice. + My fable sometimes brings to view + The face of vanity purblind + With that of restless envy join'd; + And life now turns upon these pivots two. + Such is the silly little frog + That aped the ox upon her bog. + A double image sometimes shows + How vice and folly do oppose + The ways of virtue and good sense; + As lambs with wolves so grim and gaunt, + The silly fly and frugal ant. + Thus swells my work--a comedy immense-- + Its acts unnumber'd and diverse, + Its scene the boundless universe. + Gods, men, and brutes, all play their part + In fields of nature or of art, + And Jupiter among the rest. + Here comes the god who's wont to bear + Jove's frequent errands to the fair, + With winged heels and haste; + But other work's in hand to-day. + + A man that labour'd in the wood + Had lost his honest livelihood; + That is to say, + His axe was gone astray. + He had no tools to spare; + This wholly earn'd his fare. + Without a hope beside, + He sat him down and cried, + 'Alas, my axe! where can it be? + O Jove! but send it back to me, + And it shall strike good blows for thee.' + His prayer in high Olympus heard, + Swift Mercury started at the word. + 'Your axe must not be lost,' said he: + 'Now, will you know it when you see? + An axe I found upon the road.' + With that an axe of gold he show'd. + 'Is't this?' The woodman answer'd, 'Nay.' + An axe of silver, bright and gay, + Refused the honest woodman too. + At last the finder brought to view + An axe of iron, steel, and wood. + 'That's mine,' he said, in joyful mood; + 'With that I'll quite contented be.' + The god replied, 'I give the three, + As due reward of honesty.' + This luck when neighbouring choppers knew, + They lost their axes, not a few, + And sent their prayers to Jupiter + So fast, he knew not which to hear. + His winged son, however, sent + With gold and silver axes, went. + Each would have thought himself a fool + Not to have own'd the richest tool. + But Mercury promptly gave, instead + Of it, a blow upon the head. + With simple truth to be contented, + Is surest not to be repented; + But still there are who would + With evil trap the good,-- + Whose cunning is but stupid, + For Jove is never dupèd. + +[1] Aesop. There is also a version of the story in Rabelais, Book IV, + _Prologue_. +[2] La Fontaine's dedication is in initials thus:--"A. M. L. C. D. B." + which are interpreted by some as meaning, "To M. the Chevalier de + Bouillon" (as above), and by others as meaning, "To Monseigneur le + Cardinal de Bouillon." +[3] _Aesop's plan_.--Here, as in the dedication of Book VII., Fable + II., Book I., Fable I., Book III., Fable I., Book VI., Fable IV., + Book VIII., and Fable I., Book IX., the poet treats of the nature and + uses of Fable. + + + + +II.--THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT.[4] + + An iron pot proposed + To an earthen pot a journey. + The latter was opposed, + Expressing the concern he + Had felt about the danger + Of going out a ranger. + He thought the kitchen hearth + The safest place on earth + For one so very brittle. + 'For thee, who art a kettle, + And hast a tougher skin, + There's nought to keep thee in.' + 'I'll be thy body-guard,' + Replied the iron pot; + 'If anything that's hard + Should threaten thee a jot, + Between you I will go, + And save thee from the blow.' + This offer him persuaded. + The iron pot paraded + Himself as guard and guide + Close at his cousin's side. + Now, in their tripod way, + They hobble as they may; + And eke together bolt + At every little jolt,-- + Which gives the crockery pain; + But presently his comrade hits + So hard, he dashes him to bits, + Before he can complain. + + Take care that you associate + With equals only, lest your fate + Between these pots should find its mate. + +[4] Aesop. + + + + +III.--THE LITTLE FISH AND THE FISHER.[5] + + A little fish will grow, + If life be spared, a great; + But yet to let him go, + And for his growing wait, + May not be very wise, + As 'tis not sure your bait + Will catch him when of size. + Upon a river bank, a fisher took + A tiny troutling from his hook. + Said he, ''Twill serve to count, at least, + As the beginning of my feast; + And so I'll put it with the rest.' + This little fish, thus caught, + His clemency besought. + 'What will your honour do with me? + I'm not a mouthful, as you see. + Pray let me grow to be a trout, + And then come here and fish me out. + Some alderman, who likes things nice, + Will buy me then at any price. + But now, a hundred such you'll have to fish, + To make a single good-for-nothing dish.' + 'Well, well, be it so,' replied the fisher, + 'My little fish, who play the preacher, + The frying-pan must be your lot, + Although, no doubt, you like it not: + I fry the fry that can be got.' + + In some things, men of sense + Prefer the present to the future tense. + +[5] Aesop. + + + + +IV.--THE EARS OF THE HARE.[6] + + Some beast with horns did gore + The lion; and that sovereign dread, + Resolved to suffer so no more, + Straight banish'd from his realm, 'tis said, + All sorts of beasts with horns-- + Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns. + Such brutes all promptly fled. + A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving, + Could hardly help believing + That some vile spy for horns would take them, + And food for accusation make them. + 'Adieu,' said he, 'my neighbour cricket; + I take my foreign ticket. + My ears, should I stay here, + Will turn to horns, I fear; + And were they shorter than a bird's, + I fear the effect of words.' + 'These horns!' the cricket answer'd; 'why, + God made them ears who can deny?' + 'Yes,' said the coward, 'still they'll make them horns, + And horns, perhaps of unicorns! + In vain shall I protest, + With all the learning of the schools: + My reasons they will send to rest + In th' Hospital of Fools.'[7] + +[6] Faerno. +[7] _Hospital of Fools_, i.e., madhouse. + + + + +V.--THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF.[8] + + A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, + Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, + Whom none of his sort had caught in a nap, + Was finally caught in somebody's trap. + By luck he escaped, not wholly and hale, + For the price of his luck was the loss of his tail. + Escaped in this way, to save his disgrace, + He thought to get others in similar case. + One day that the foxes in council were met, + 'Why wear we,' said he, 'this cumbering weight, + Which sweeps in the dirt wherever it goes? + Pray tell me its use, if any one knows. + If the council will take my advice, + We shall dock off our tails in a trice.' + 'Your advice may be good,' said one on the ground; + 'But, ere I reply, pray turn yourself round.' + Whereat such a shout from the council was heard, + Poor bob-tail, confounded, could say not a word. + To urge the reform would have wasted his breath. + Long tails were the mode till the day of his death. + +[8] Aesop; Faerno. + + + + +VI.--THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO SERVANTS.[9] + + A beldam kept two spinning maids, + Who plied so handily their trades, + Those spinning sisters down below + Were bunglers when compared with these. + No care did this old woman know + But giving tasks as she might please. + No sooner did the god of day + His glorious locks enkindle, + Than both the wheels began to play, + And from each whirling spindle + Forth danced the thread right merrily, + And back was coil'd unceasingly. + Soon as the dawn, I say, its tresses show'd, + A graceless cock most punctual crow'd. + The beldam roused, more graceless yet, + In greasy petticoat bedight, + Struck up her farthing light, + And then forthwith the bed beset, + Where deeply, blessedly did snore + Those two maid-servants tired and poor. + One oped an eye, an arm one stretch'd, + And both their breath most sadly fetch'd, + This threat concealing in the sigh-- + 'That cursed cock shall surely die!' + And so he did:--they cut his throat, + And put to sleep his rousing note. + And yet this murder mended not + The cruel hardship of their lot; + For now the twain were scarce in bed + Before they heard the summons dread. + The beldam, full of apprehension + Lest oversleep should cause detention, + Ran like a goblin through her mansion. + Thus often, when one thinks + To clear himself from ill, + His effort only sinks + Him in the deeper still. + The beldam, acting for the cock, + Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock. + +[9] Aesop. + + + + +VII.--THE SATYR AND THE TRAVELLER.[10] + + Within a savage forest grot + A satyr and his chips + Were taking down their porridge hot; + Their cups were at their lips. + + You might have seen in mossy den, + Himself, his wife, and brood; + They had not tailor-clothes, like men, + But appetites as good. + + In came a traveller, benighted, + All hungry, cold, and wet, + Who heard himself to eat invited + With nothing like regret. + + He did not give his host the pain + His asking to repeat; + But first he blew with might and main + To give his fingers heat. + + Then in his steaming porridge dish + He delicately blew. + The wondering satyr said, 'I wish + The use of both I knew.' + + 'Why, first, my blowing warms my hand, + And then it cools my porridge.' + 'Ah!' said his host, 'then understand + I cannot give you storage. + 'To sleep beneath one roof with you, + I may not be so bold. + Far be from me that mouth untrue + Which blows both hot and cold.' + +[10] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE HORSE AND THE WOLF.[11] + + A wolf, what time the thawing breeze + Renews the life of plants and trees, + And beasts go forth from winter lair + To seek abroad their various fare,-- + A wolf, I say, about those days, + In sharp look-out for means and ways, + Espied a horse turn'd out to graze. + His joy the reader may opine. + 'Once got,' said he, 'this game were fine; + But if a sheep, 'twere sooner mine. + I can't proceed my usual way; + Some trick must now be put in play.' + This said, + He came with measured tread, + As if a healer of disease,-- + Some pupil of Hippocrates,-- + And told the horse, with learned verbs, + He knew the power of roots and herbs,-- + Whatever grew about those borders,-- + And not at all to flatter + Himself in such a matter, + Could cure of all disorders. + If he, Sir Horse, would not conceal + The symptoms of his case, + He, Doctor Wolf, would gratis heal; + For that to feed in such a place, + And run about untied, + Was proof itself of some disease, + As all the books decide. + 'I have, good doctor, if you please,' + Replied the horse, 'as I presume, + Beneath my foot, an aposthume.' + 'My son,' replied the learned leech, + 'That part, as all our authors teach, + Is strikingly susceptible + Of ills which make acceptable + What you may also have from me-- + The aid of skilful surgery; + Which noble art, the fact is, + For horses of the blood I practise.' + The fellow, with this talk sublime, + Watch'd for a snap the fitting time. + Meanwhile, suspicious of some trick, + The wary patient nearer draws, + And gives his doctor such a kick, + As makes a chowder of his jaws. + Exclaim'd the wolf, in sorry plight, + 'I own those heels have served me right. + I err'd to quit my trade, + As I will not in future; + Me nature surely made + For nothing but a butcher.' + +[11] Aesop; also in Faerno. + + + + +IX.--THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS.[12] + + The farmer's patient care and toil + Are oftener wanting than the soil. + + A wealthy ploughman drawing near his end, + Call'd in his sons apart from every friend, + And said, 'When of your sire bereft, + The heritage our fathers left + Guard well, nor sell a single field. + A treasure in it is conceal'd: + The place, precisely, I don't know, + But industry will serve to show. + The harvest past, Time's forelock take, + And search with plough, and spade, and rake; + Turn over every inch of sod, + Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod.' + The father died. The sons--and not in vain-- + Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; + That year their acres bore + More grain than e'er before. + Though hidden money found they none, + Yet had their father wisely done, + To show by such a measure, + That toil itself is treasure. + +[12] Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR.[13] + + A mountain was in travail pang; + The country with her clamour rang. + Out ran the people all, to see, + Supposing that the birth would be + A city, or at least a house. + It was a mouse! + + In thinking of this fable, + Of story feign'd and false, + But meaning veritable, + My mind the image calls + Of one who writes, "The war I sing + Which Titans waged against the Thunder-king."[14] + As on the sounding verses ring, + What will be brought to birth? + Why, dearth. + +[13] Phaedrus, IV. 22. +[14] _The War, &c._--The war of the Gods and Titans (sons of Heaven and + Earth); _vide_ Hesiod, _Theogony_, I. 1083, Bohn's ed. + + + + +XI.--FORTUNE AND THE BOY.[15] + + Beside a well, uncurb'd and deep, + A schoolboy laid him down to sleep: + (Such rogues can do so anywhere.) + If some kind man had seen him there, + He would have leap'd as if distracted; + But Fortune much more wisely acted; + For, passing by, she softly waked the child, + Thus whispering in accents mild: + 'I save your life, my little dear, + And beg you not to venture here + Again, for had you fallen in, + I should have had to bear the sin; + But I demand, in reason's name, + If for your rashness I'm to blame?' + With this the goddess went her way. + I like her logic, I must say. + There takes place nothing on this planet, + But Fortune ends, whoe'er began it. + In all adventures good or ill, + We look to her to foot the bill. + Has one a stupid, empty pate, + That serves him never till too late, + He clears himself by blaming Fate! + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE DOCTORS.[16] + + The selfsame patient put to test + Two doctors, Fear-the-worst and Hope-the-best. + The latter hoped; the former did maintain + The man would take all medicine in vain. + By different cures the patient was beset, + But erelong cancell'd nature's debt, + While nursed + As was prescribed by Fear-the-worst. + But over the disease both triumph'd still. + Said one, 'I well foresaw his death.' + 'Yes,' said the other, 'but my pill + Would certainly have saved his breath.' + +[16] Aesop, and others. + + + + +XIII.--THE HEN WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS.[17] + + How avarice loseth all, + By striving all to gain, + I need no witness call + But him whose thrifty hen, + As by the fable we are told, + Laid every day an egg of gold. + 'She hath a treasure in her body,' + Bethinks the avaricious noddy. + He kills and opens--vexed to find + All things like hens of common kind. + Thus spoil'd the source of all his riches, + To misers he a lesson teaches. + In these last changes of the moon, + How often doth one see + Men made as poor as he + By force of getting rich too soon! + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE ASS CARRYING RELICS.[18] + + An ass, with relics for his load, + Supposed the worship on the road + Meant for himself alone, + And took on lofty airs, + Receiving as his own + The incense and the prayers. + Some one, who saw his great mistake, + Cried, 'Master Donkey, do not make + Yourself so big a fool. + Not you they worship, but your pack; + They praise the idols on your back, + And count yourself a paltry tool.' + + 'Tis thus a brainless magistrate + Is honour'd for his robe of state. + +[18] Aesop; also Faerno. + + + + +XV.--THE STAG AND THE VINE.[19] + + A stag, by favour of a vine, + Which grew where suns most genial shine, + And form'd a thick and matted bower + Which might have turn'd a summer shower, + Was saved from ruinous assault. + The hunters thought their dogs at fault, + And call'd them off. In danger now no more + The stag, a thankless wretch and vile, + Began to browse his benefactress o'er. + The hunters, listening the while, + The rustling heard, came back, + With all their yelping pack, + And seized him in that very place. + 'This is,' said he, 'but justice, in my case. + Let every black ingrate + Henceforward profit by my fate.' + The dogs fell to--'twere wasting breath + To pray those hunters at the death. + They left, and we will not revile 'em, + A warning for profaners of asylum. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XVI.--THE SERPENT AND THE FILE.[20] + + A serpent, neighbour to a smith, + (A neighbour bad to meddle with,) + Went through his shop, in search of food, + But nothing found, 'tis understood, + To eat, except a file of steel, + Of which he tried to make a meal. + The file, without a spark of passion, + Address'd him in the following fashion:-- + 'Poor simpleton! you surely bite + With less of sense than appetite; + For ere from me you gain + One quarter of a grain, + You'll break your teeth from ear to ear. + Time's are the only teeth I fear.' + + This tale concerns those men of letters, + Who, good for nothing, bite their betters. + Their biting so is quite unwise. + Think you, ye literary sharks, + Your teeth will leave their marks + Upon the deathless works you criticise? + Fie! fie! fie! men! + To you they're brass--they're steel--they're diamond! + +[20] Phaedrus, Book IV. 8; also Aesop. + + + + +XVII.--THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE. + + Beware how you deride + The exiles from life's sunny side: + To you is little known + How soon their case may be your own. + On this, sage Aesop gives a tale or two, + As in my verses I propose to do. + A field in common share + A partridge and a hare, + And live in peaceful state, + Till, woeful to relate! + The hunters' mingled cry + Compels the hare to fly. + He hurries to his fort, + And spoils almost the sport + By faulting every hound + That yelps upon the ground. + At last his reeking heat + Betrays his snug retreat. + Old Tray, with philosophic nose, + Snuffs carefully, and grows + So certain, that he cries, + 'The hare is here; bow wow!' + And veteran Ranger now,-- + The dog that never lies,-- + 'The hare is gone,' replies. + Alas! poor, wretched hare, + Back comes he to his lair, + To meet destruction there! + The partridge, void of fear, + Begins her friend to jeer:-- + 'You bragg'd of being fleet; + How serve you, now, your feet?' + Scarce has she ceased to speak,-- + The laugh yet in her beak,-- + When comes her turn to die, + From which she could not fly. + She thought her wings, indeed, + Enough for every need; + But in her laugh and talk, + Forgot the cruel hawk! + + + + +XVIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.[21] + + The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease + Their war, embraced in pledge of peace. + On faith of king, on faith of owl, they swore + That they would eat each other's chicks no more. + 'But know you mine?' said Wisdom's bird.[22] + 'Not I, indeed,' the eagle cried. + 'The worse for that,' the owl replied: + 'I fear your oath's a useless word; + I fear that you, as king, will not + Consider duly who or what: + You kings and gods, of what's before ye, + Are apt to make one category. + Adieu, my young, if you should meet them!' + 'Describe them, then, or let me greet them, + And, on my life, I will not eat them,' + The eagle said. The owl replied: + 'My little ones, I say with pride, + For grace of form cannot be match'd,-- + The prettiest birds that e'er were hatch'd; + By this you cannot fail to know them; + 'Tis needless, therefore, that I show them. + Pray don't forget, but keep this mark in view, + Lest fate should curse my happy nest by you.' + At length God gives the owl a set of heirs, + And while at early eve abroad he fares, + In quest of birds and mice for food, + Our eagle haply spies the brood, + As on some craggy rock they sprawl, + Or nestle in some ruined wall, + (But which it matters not at all,) + And thinks them ugly little frights, + Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. + 'These chicks,' says he, 'with looks almost infernal, + Can't be the darlings of our friend nocturnal. + I'll sup of them.' And so he did, not slightly:-- + He never sups, if he can help it, lightly. + The owl return'd; and, sad, he found + Nought left but claws upon the ground. + He pray'd the gods above and gods below + To smite the brigand who had caused his woe. + Quoth one, 'On you alone the blame must fall; + Or rather on the law of nature, + Which wills that every earthly creature + Shall think its like the loveliest of all. + You told the eagle of your young ones' graces; + You gave the picture of their faces:-- + Had it of likeness any traces?' + +[21] Avianus; also Verdizotti. +[22] _Wisdom's bird_.--The owl was the bird of Minerva, as the eagle + was that of Jupiter. + + + + +XIX.--THE LION GOING TO WAR.[23] + + The lion had an enterprise in hand; + Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal, + And gave the animals a call impartial-- + Each, in his way, to serve his high command. + The elephant should carry on his back + The tools of war, the mighty public pack, + And fight in elephantine way and form; + The bear should hold himself prepared to storm; + The fox all secret stratagems should fix; + The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks. + 'Dismiss,' said one, 'the blockhead asses, + And hares, too cowardly and fleet.' + 'No,' said the king; 'I use all classes; + Without their aid my force were incomplete. + The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare + Our enemy. And then the nimble hare + Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear.' + + A monarch provident and wise + Will hold his subjects all of consequence, + And know in each what talent lies. + There's nothing useless to a man of sense. + +[23] Abstemius. + + + + +XX.--THE BEAR AND THE TWO COMPANIONS.[24] + + Two fellows, needing funds, and bold, + A bearskin to a furrier sold, + Of which the bear was living still, + But which they presently would kill-- + At least they said they would. + And, if their word was good, + It was a king of bears--an Ursa Major-- + The biggest bear beneath the sun. + Its skin, the chaps would wager, + Was cheap at double cost; + 'Twould make one laugh at frost-- + And make two robes as well as one. + Old Dindenaut,[25] in sheep who dealt, + Less prized his sheep, than they their pelt-- + (In their account 'twas theirs, + But in his own, the bears.) + By bargain struck upon the skin, + Two days at most must bring it in. + Forth went the two. More easy found than got, + The bear came growling at them on the trot. + Behold our dealers both confounded, + As if by thunderbolt astounded! + Their bargain vanish'd suddenly in air; + For who could plead his interest with a bear? + One of the friends sprung up a tree; + The other, cold as ice could be, + Fell on his face, feign'd death, + And closely held his breath,-- + He having somewhere heard it said + The bear ne'er preys upon the dead. + Sir Bear, sad blockhead, was deceived-- + The prostrate man a corpse believed; + But, half suspecting some deceit, + He feels and snuffs from head to feet, + And in the nostrils blows. + The body's surely dead, he thinks. + 'I'll leave it,' says he, 'for it stinks;' + And off into the woods he goes. + The other dealer, from his tree + Descending cautiously, to see + His comrade lying in the dirt, + Consoling, says, 'It is a wonder + That, by the monster forced asunder, + We're, after all, more scared than hurt. + But,' addeth he, 'what of the creature's skin? + He held his muzzle very near; + What did he whisper in your ear?' + 'He gave this caution,--"Never dare + Again to sell the skin of bear + Its owner has not ceased to wear."'[26] + +[24] Versions will be found in Aesop, Avianus, and Abstemius. +[25] _Old Dindenaut_.--_Vide_ Rabelais, _Pantagruel_, Book IV. + chap. viii.--Translator. + The character in Rabelais is a sheep-stealer as well as a + sheep-dealer. +[26] According to Philip de Commines, the Emperor Frederic III. of + Germany used a story conveying the substance of this fable, with its + moral of _Never sell your bear-skin till the beast is dead_, as + his sole reply to the ambassadors of the French king when that + monarch sent him proposals for dividing between them the provinces + of the Duke of Burgundy. The meaning of which was, says de Commines, + "That if the King came according to his promise, they would take the + Duke, if they could; and when he was taken, they would talk of + dividing his dominions."--_Vide_ Bohn's edition of the "Memoirs of + De Commines," vol. i., p. 246. + + + + +XXI.--THE ASS DRESSED IN THE LION'S SKIN.[27] + + Clad in a lion's shaggy hide, + An ass spread terror far and wide, + And, though himself a coward brute, + Put all the world to scampering rout: + But, by a piece of evil luck, + A portion of an ear outstuck, + Which soon reveal'd the error + Of all the panic-terror. + Old Martin did his office quick. + Surprised were all who did not know the trick, + To see that Martin,[28] at his will, + Was driving lions to the mill! + + In France, the men are not a few + Of whom this fable proves too true; + Whose valour chiefly doth reside + In coat they wear and horse they ride. + +[27] Aesop, and Avianus. +[28] _Martin_.--Martin-bâton, again as in Fable V., Book IV. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VI. + + +I.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION.[1] + + Of fables judge not by their face; + They give the simplest brute a teacher's place. + Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; + The story gives them life and wings. + But story for the story's sake + Were sorry business for the wise; + As if, for pill that one should take, + You gave the sugary disguise. + For reasons such as these, + Full many writers great and good + Have written in this frolic mood, + And made their wisdom please. + But tinsel'd style they all have shunn'd with care; + With them one never sees a word to spare. + Of Phaedrus some have blamed the brevity, + While Aesop uses fewer words than he. + A certain Greek,[2] however, beats + Them both in his larconic feats. + Each tale he locks in verses four; + The well or ill I leave to critic lore. + At Aesop's side to see him let us aim, + Upon a theme substantially the same. + The one selects a lover of the chase; + A shepherd comes, the other's tale to grace. + Their tracks I keep, though either tale may grow + A little in its features as I go. + + The one which Aesop tells is nearly this:-- + A shepherd from his flock began to miss, + And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep. + Before a cavern, dark and deep, + Where wolves retired by day to sleep, + Which he suspected as the thieves, + He set his trap among the leaves; + And, ere he left the place, + He thus invoked celestial grace:-- + 'O king of all the powers divine, + Against the rogue but grant me this delight, + That this my trap may catch him in my sight, + And I, from twenty calves of mine, + Will make the fattest thine.' + But while the words were on his tongue, + Forth came a lion great and strong. + Down crouch'd the man of sheep, and said, + With shivering fright half dead, + 'Alas! that man should never be aware + Of what may be the meaning of his prayer! + To catch the robber of my flocks, + O king of gods, I pledged a calf to thee: + If from his clutches thou wilt rescue me, + I'll raise my offering to an ox.' + + 'Tis thus the master-author[3] tells the story: + Now hear the rival of his glory. + +[1] Aesop. +[2] _A certain Greek_.--Gabrias.--La Fontaine. This is Babrias, the + Greek fabulist, to whom La Fontaine gives the older form of his name. + La Fontaine's strictures on this "rival" of Aesop proceed from the + fact that he read the author in the corrupted form of the edition by + Ignatius Magister (ninth century). It was not till a century after La + Fontaine wrote, that the fame of Babrias was cleared by Bentley and + Tyrwhitt, who brought his Fables to light in their original form. +[3] _Master-author, &c._--The "master-author" is Aesop; the rival, + Gabrias, or Babrias. The last line refers the reader to the following + fable for comparison. In the original editions of La Fontaine, the + two fables appear together with the heading "Fables I. et II." + + + + +II.--THE LION AND THE HUNTER.[4] + + A braggart, lover of the chase, + Had lost a dog of valued race, + And thought him in a lion's maw. + He ask'd a shepherd whom he saw, + 'Pray show me, man, the robber's place, + And I'll have justice in the case.' + ''Tis on this mountain side,' + The shepherd man replied. + 'The tribute of a sheep I pay, + Each month, and where I please I stray.' + Out leap'd the lion as he spake, + And came that way, with agile feet. + The braggart, prompt his flight to take, + Cried, 'Jove, O grant a safe retreat!' + + A danger close at hand + Of courage is the test. + It shows us who will stand-- + Whose legs will run their best. + +[4] Gabrias, or Babrias; and Aesop. See note to preceding fable. + + + + +III.--PHOEBUS AND BOREAS.[5] + + Old Boreas and the sun, one day + Espied a traveller on his way, + Whose dress did happily provide + Against whatever might betide. + The time was autumn, when, indeed, + All prudent travellers take heed. + The rains that then the sunshine dash, + And Iris with her splendid sash, + Warn one who does not like to soak + To wear abroad a good thick cloak. + Our man was therefore well bedight + With double mantle, strong and tight. + 'This fellow,' said the wind, 'has meant + To guard from every ill event; + But little does he wot that I + Can blow him such a blast + That, not a button fast, + His cloak shall cleave the sky. + Come, here's a pleasant game, Sir Sun! + Wilt play?' Said Phoebus, 'Done! + We'll bet between us here + Which first will take the gear + From off this cavalier. + Begin, and shut away. + The brightness of my ray.' + 'Enough.' Our blower, on the bet, + Swell'd out his pursy form + With all the stuff for storm-- + The thunder, hail, and drenching wet, + And all the fury he could muster; + Then, with a very demon's bluster, + He whistled, whirl'd, and splash'd, + And down the torrents dash'd, + Full many a roof uptearing + He never did before, + Full many a vessel bearing + To wreck upon the shore,-- + And all to doff a single cloak. + But vain the furious stroke; + The traveller was stout, + And kept the tempest out, + Defied the hurricane, + Defied the pelting rain; + And as the fiercer roar'd the blast, + His cloak the tighter held he fast. + The sun broke out, to win the bet; + He caused the clouds to disappear, + Refresh'd and warm'd the cavalier, + And through his mantle made him sweat, + Till off it came, of course, + In less than half an hour; + And yet the sun saved half his power.-- + So much doth mildness more than force. + +[5] Aesop and Lokman; also P. Hegemon. + + + + +IV.--JUPITER AND THE FARMER.[6] + + Of yore, a farm had Jupiter to rent; + To advertise it, Mercury was sent. + The farmers, far and near, + Flock'd round, the terms to hear; + And, calling to their aid + The various tricks of trade, + One said 'twas rash a farm to hire + Which would so much expense require; + Another, that, do what you would, + The farm would still be far from good. + While thus, in market style, its faults were told, + One of the crowd, less wise than bold, + Would give so much, on this condition, + That Jove would yield him altogether + The choice and making of his weather,-- + That, instantly on his decision, + His various crops should feel the power + Of heat or cold, of sun or shower. + + Jove yields. The bargain closed, our man + Rains, blows, and takes the care + Of all the changes of the air, + On his peculiar, private plan. + His nearest neighbours felt it not, + And all the better was their lot. + Their year was good, by grace divine; + The grain was rich, and full the vine. + The renter, failing altogether, + The next year made quite different weather; + And yet the fruit of all his labours + Was far inferior to his neighbours'. + What better could he do? To Heaven + He owns at last his want of sense, + And so is graciously forgiven. + Hence we conclude that Providence + Knows better what we need + Than we ourselves, indeed. + +[6] Aesop; and Faerno. + + + + +V.--THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.[7] + + A youthful mouse, not up to trap, + Had almost met a sad mishap. + The story hear him thus relate, + With great importance, to his mother:-- + 'I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate, + And off was trotting on another, + Like some young rat with nought to do + But see things wonderful and new, + When two strange creatures came in view. + The one was mild, benign, and gracious; + The other, turbulent, rapacious, + With voice terrific, shrill, and rough, + And on his head a bit of stuff + That look'd like raw and bloody meat, + Raised up a sort of arms, and beat + The air, as if he meant to fly, + And bore his plumy tail on high.' + + A cock, that just began to crow, + As if some nondescript, + From far New Holland shipp'd, + Was what our mousling pictured so. + 'He beat his arms,' said he, 'and raised his voice, + And made so terrible a noise, + That I, who, thanks to Heaven, may justly boast + Myself as bold as any mouse, + Scud off, (his voice would even scare a ghost!) + And cursed himself and all his house; + For, but for him, I should have staid, + And doubtless an acquaintance made + With her who seem'd so mild and good. + Like us, in velvet cloak and hood, + She wears a tail that's full of grace, + A very sweet and humble face,-- + No mouse more kindness could desire,-- + And yet her eye is full of fire. + I do believe the lovely creature + A friend of rats and mice by nature. + Her ears, though, like herself, they're bigger, + Are just like ours in form and figure. + To her I was approaching, when, + Aloft on what appear'd his den, + The other scream'd,--and off I fled.' + 'My son,' his cautious mother said, + 'That sweet one was the cat, + The mortal foe of mouse and rat, + Who seeks by smooth deceit, + Her appetite to treat. + So far the other is from that, + We yet may eat + His dainty meat; + Whereas the cruel cat, + Whene'er she can, devours + No other meat than ours.' + + Remember while you live, + It is by looks that men deceive. + +[7] Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE ANIMALS.[8] + + Left kingless by the lion's death, + The beasts once met, our story saith, + Some fit successor to install. + Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place, + The crown was brought, and, taken from its case, + And being tried by turns on all, + The heads of most were found too small; + Some hornèd were, and some too big; + Not one would fit the regal gear. + For ever ripe for such a rig, + The monkey, looking very queer, + Approach'd with antics and grimaces, + And, after scores of monkey faces, + With what would seem a gracious stoop, + Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop. + The beasts, diverted with the thing, + Did homage to him as their king. + The fox alone the vote regretted, + But yet in public never fretted. + When he his compliments had paid + To royalty, thus newly made, + 'Great sire, I know a place,' said he, + 'Where lies conceal'd a treasure, + Which, by the right of royalty, + Should bide your royal pleasure.' + The king lack'd not an appetite + For such financial pelf, + And, not to lose his royal right, + Ran straight to see it for himself. + It was a trap, and he was caught. + Said Renard, 'Would you have it thought, + You ape, that you can fill a throne, + And guard the rights of all, alone, + Not knowing how to guard your own?' + + The beasts all gather'd from the farce, + That stuff for kings is very scarce. + +[8] Aesop; also Faerno. + + + + +VII.--THE MULE BOASTING OF HIS GENEALOGY.[9] + + A prelate's mule of noble birth was proud, + And talk'd, incessantly and loud, + Of nothing but his dam, the mare, + Whose mighty deeds by him recounted were,-- + This had she done, and had been present there,-- + By which her son made out his claim + To notice on the scroll of Fame. + Too proud, when young, to bear a doctor's pill; + When old, he had to turn a mill. + As there they used his limbs to bind, + His sire, the ass, was brought to mind. + Misfortune, were its only use + The claims of folly to reduce, + And bring men down to sober reason, + Would be a blessing in its season. + +[9] Aesop. + + + + +VIII.--THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.[10] + + An old man, riding on his ass, + Had found a spot of thrifty grass, + And there turn'd loose his weary beast. + Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, + Flung up his heels, and caper'd round, + Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground, + And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd, + And many a clean spot made. + Arm'd men came on them as he fed: + 'Let's fly,' in haste the old man said. + 'And wherefore so?' the ass replied; + 'With heavier burdens will they ride?' + 'No,' said the man, already started. + 'Then,' cried the ass, as he departed, + 'I'll stay, and be--no matter whose; + Save you yourself, and leave me loose. + But let me tell you, ere you go, + (I speak plain French, you know,) + My master is my only foe.' + +[10] Phaedras. I. 15. + + + + +IX.--THE STAG SEEING HIMSELF IN THE WATER.[11] + + Beside a placid, crystal flood, + A stag admired the branching wood + That high upon his forehead stood, + But gave his Maker little thanks + For what he call'd his spindle shanks. + 'What limbs are these for such a head!-- + So mean and slim!' with grief he said. + 'My glorious heads o'ertops + The branches of the copse; + My legs are my disgrace.' + As thus he talk'd, a bloodhound gave him chase. + To save his life he flew + Where forests thickest grew. + His horns,--pernicious ornament!-- + Arresting him where'er he went, + Did unavailing render + What else, in such a strife, + Had saved his precious life-- + His legs, as fleet as slender. + Obliged to yield, he cursed the gear + Which nature gave him every year. + + Too much the beautiful we prize; + The useful, often, we despise: + Yet oft, as happen'd to the stag, + The former doth to ruin drag. + +[11] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I.12. + + + + +X.--THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.[12] + + To win a race, the swiftness of a dart + Availeth not without a timely start. + The hare and tortoise are my witnesses. + Said tortoise to the swiftest thing that is, + 'I'll bet that you'll not reach, so soon as I + The tree on yonder hill we spy.' + 'So soon! Why, madam, are you frantic?' + Replied the creature, with an antic; + 'Pray take, your senses to restore, + A grain or two of hellebore.'[13] + 'Say,' said the tortoise, 'what you will; + I dare you to the wager still.' + 'Twas done; the stakes were paid, + And near the goal tree laid-- + Of what, is not a question for this place, + Nor who it was that judged the race. + Our hare had scarce five jumps to make, + Of such as he is wont to take, + When, starting just before their beaks + He leaves the hounds at leisure, + Thence till the kalends of the Greeks,[14] + The sterile heath to measure. + Thus having time to browse and doze, + And list which way the zephyr blows, + He makes himself content to wait, + And let the tortoise go her gait + In solemn, senatorial state. + She starts; she moils on, modestly and lowly, + And with a prudent wisdom hastens slowly; + But he, meanwhile, the victory despises, + Thinks lightly of such prizes, + Believes it for his honour + To take late start and gain upon her. + So, feeding, sitting at his ease, + He meditates of what you please, + Till his antagonist he sees + Approach the goal; then starts, + Away like lightning darts: + But vainly does he run; + The race is by the tortoise won. + Cries she, 'My senses do I lack? + What boots your boasted swiftness now? + You're beat! and yet, you must allow, + I bore my house upon my back.' + +[12] Aesop; also Lokman. +[13] _Hellebore_.--The ancient remedy for insanity. +[14] _Kalends of the Greeks_.--The Greeks, unlike the Romans, had no + kalends in their computation of time, hence the frequent use of this + expression to convey the idea of an indefinite period of time. + + + + +XI.--THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS.[15] + + A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny + Of being made to rise before the dawn. + 'The cocks their matins have not sung,' said he, + 'Ere I am up and gone. + And all for what? To market herbs, it seems. + Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!' + Fate, moved by such a prayer, + Sent him a currier's load to bear, + Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, + They almost choked the foolish beast. + 'I wish me with my former lord,' he said; + 'For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, + If on the watch, I caught + A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought. + But, in this horrid place, I find + No chance or windfall of the kind:-- + Or if, indeed, I do, + The cruel blows I rue.' + Anon it came to pass + He was a collier's ass. + Still more complaint. 'What now?' said Fate, + Quite out of patience. + 'If on this jackass I must wait, + What will become of kings and nations? + Has none but he aught here to tease him? + Have I no business but to please him?' + And Fate had cause;--for all are so. + Unsatisfied while here below + Our present lot is aye the worst. + Our foolish prayers the skies infest. + Were Jove to grant all we request, + The din renew'd, his head would burst. + +[15] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[16] + + Rejoicing on their tyrant's wedding-day, + The people drown'd their care in drink; + While from the general joy did Aesop shrink, + And show'd its folly in this way. + 'The sun,' said he, 'once took it in his head + To have a partner for his bed. + From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs, + Up rose the wailings of the frogs. + "What shall we do, should he have progeny?" + Said they to Destiny; + "One sun we scarcely can endure, + And half-a-dozen, we are sure, + Will dry the very sea. + Adieu to marsh and fen! + Our race will perish then, + Or be obliged to fix + Their dwelling in the Styx!" + For such an humble animal, + The frog, I take it, reason'd well.' + +[16] There is another fable with this title, viz., Fable XXIV., Book XII. + This fable in its earlier form will be found in Phaedrus, I.6. + + + + +XIII.--THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT.[17] + + 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. + +[17] Aesop; also Phaedrus, IV.18. + + + + +XIV.--THE SICK LION AND THE FOX.[18] + + Sick in his den, we understand, + The king of beasts sent out command + That of his vassals every sort + Should send some deputies to court-- + With promise well to treat + Each deputy and suite; + On faith of lion, duly written, + None should be scratch'd, much less be bitten. + The royal will was executed, + And some from every tribe deputed; + The foxes, only, would not come. + One thus explain'd their choice of home:-- + 'Of those who seek the court, we learn, + The tracks upon the sand + Have one direction, and + Not one betokens a return. + This fact begetting some distrust, + His majesty at present must + Excuse us from his great levee. + His plighted word is good, no doubt; + But while how beasts get in we see, + We do not see how they get out.' + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XV.--THE FOWLER, THE HAWK, AND THE LARK.[19] + + From wrongs of wicked men we draw + Excuses for our own:-- + Such is the universal law. + Would you have mercy shown, + Let yours be clearly known. + + A fowler's mirror served to snare + The little tenants of the air. + A lark there saw her pretty face, + And was approaching to the place. + A hawk, that sailed on high + Like vapour in the sky, + Came down, as still as infant's breath, + On her who sang so near her death. + She thus escaped the fowler's steel, + The hawk's malignant claws to feel. + While in his cruel way, + The pirate pluck'd his prey, + Upon himself the net was sprung. + 'O fowler,' pray'd he in the hawkish tongue, + 'Release me in thy clemency! + I never did a wrong to thee.' + The man replied, ''Tis true; + And did the lark to you?' + +[19] Abstemius, 3. + + + + +XVI.--THE HORSE AND THE ASS.[20] + + In such a world, all men, of every grade, + Should each the other kindly aid; + For, if beneath misfortune's goad + A neighbour falls, on you will fall his load. + + There jogg'd in company an ass and horse; + Nought but his harness did the last endorse; + The other bore a load that crush'd him down, + And begg'd the horse a little help to give, + Or otherwise he could not reach the town. + 'This prayer,' said he, 'is civil, I believe; + One half this burden you would scarcely feel.' + The horse refused, flung up a scornful heel, + And saw his comrade die beneath the weight:-- + And saw his wrong too late; + For on his own proud back + They put the ass's pack, + And over that, beside, + They put the ass's hide. + +[20] Aesop. + + + + +XVII.--THE DOG THAT DROPPED THE SUBSTANCE FOR THE SHADOW.[21] + + This world is full of shadow-chasers, + Most easily deceived. + Should I enumerate these racers, + I should not be believed. + I send them all to Aesop's dog, + Which, crossing water on a log, + Espied the meat he bore, below; + To seize its image, let it go; + Plunged in; to reach the shore was glad, + With neither what he hoped, nor what he'd had. + +[21] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I. 4. + + + + +XVIII.--THE CARTER IN THE MIRE.[22] + + The Phaëton who drove a load of hay + Once found his cart bemired. + Poor man! the spot was far away + From human help--retired, + In some rude country place, + In Brittany, as near as I can trace, + Near Quimper Corentan,-- + A town that poet never sang,-- + Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, + When she would rouse the man to special wrath. + May Heaven preserve us from that route! + But to our carter, hale and stout:-- + Fast stuck his cart; he swore his worst, + And, fill'd with rage extreme, + The mud-holes now he cursed, + And now he cursed his team, + And now his cart and load,-- + Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. + Upon the god he call'd at length, + Most famous through the world for strength. + 'O, help me, Hercules!' cried he; + 'For if thy back of yore + This burly planet bore, + Thy arm can set me free.' + This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke + A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke:-- + 'The suppliant must himself bestir, + Ere Hercules will aid confer. + Look wisely in the proper quarter, + To see what hindrance can be found; + Remove the execrable mud and mortar, + Which, axle-deep, beset thy wheels around. + Thy sledge and crowbar take, + And pry me up that stone, or break; + Now fill that rut upon the other side. + Hast done it?' 'Yes,' the man replied. + 'Well,' said the voice, 'I'll aid thee now; + Take up thy whip.' 'I have ... but, how? + My cart glides on with ease! + I thank thee, Hercules.' + 'Thy team,' rejoin'd the voice, 'has light ado; + So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too.' + +[22] Avianus; also Faerno; also Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 23, Bohn's + edition. + + + + +XIX.--THE CHARLATAN.[23] + + The world has never lack'd its charlatans, + More than themselves have lack'd their plans. + One sees them on the stage at tricks + Which mock the claims of sullen Styx. + What talents in the streets they post! + One of them used to boast + Such mastership of eloquence + That he could make the greatest dunce + Another Tully Cicero + In all the arts that lawyers know. + 'Ay, sirs, a dunce, a country clown, + The greatest blockhead of your town,-- + Nay more, an animal, an ass,-- + The stupidest that nibbles grass,-- + Needs only through my course to pass, + And he shall wear the gown + With credit, honour, and renown.' + The prince heard of it, call'd the man, thus spake: + 'My stable holds a steed + Of the Arcadian breed,[24] + Of which an orator I wish to make.' + 'Well, sire, you can,' + Replied our man. + At once his majesty + Paid the tuition fee. + Ten years must roll, and then the learned ass + Should his examination pass, + According to the rules + Adopted in the schools; + If not, his teacher was to tread the air, + With halter'd neck, above the public square,-- + His rhetoric bound on his back, + And on his head the ears of jack. + A courtier told the rhetorician, + With bows and terms polite, + He would not miss the sight + Of that last pendent exhibition; + For that his grace and dignity + Would well become such high degree; + And, on the point of being hung, + He would bethink him of his tongue, + And show the glory of his art,-- + The power to melt the hardest heart,-- + And wage a war with time + By periods sublime-- + A pattern speech for orators thus leaving, + Whose work is vulgarly call'd thieving. + 'Ah!' was the charlatan's reply, + 'Ere that, the king, the ass, or I, + Shall, one or other of us, die.' + And reason good had he; + We count on life most foolishly, + Though hale and hearty we may be. + In each ten years, death cuts down one in three. + +[23] Abstemius. +[24] _Steed of the Arcadian breed_.--An ass, as in Fable XVII, Book VIII. + + + + +XX.--DISCORD. + + The goddess Discord, having made, on high, + Among the gods a general grapple, + And thence a lawsuit, for an apple, + Was turn'd out, bag and baggage, from the sky. + The animal call'd man, with open arms, + Received the goddess of such naughty charms,-- + Herself and Whether-or-no, her brother, + With Thine-and-mine, her stingy mother. + In this, the lower universe, + Our hemisphere she chose to curse: + For reasons good she did not please + To visit our antipodes-- + Folks rude and savage like the beasts, + Who, wedding-free from forms and priests, + In simple tent or leafy bower, + Make little work for such a power. + That she might know exactly where + Her direful aid was in demand, + Renown flew courier through the land, + Reporting each dispute with care; + Then she, outrunning Peace, was quickly there; + And if she found a spark of ire, + Was sure to blow it to a fire. + At length, Renown got out of patience + At random hurrying o'er the nations, + And, not without good reason, thought + A goddess, like her mistress, ought + To have some fix'd and certain home, + To which her customers might come; + For now they often search'd in vain. + With due location, it was plain + She might accomplish vastly more, + And more in season than before. + To find, howe'er, the right facilities, + Was harder, then, than now it is; + For then there were no nunneries. + + So, Hymen's inn at last assign'd, + Thence lodged the goddess to her mind.[25] + +[25] La Fontaine, gentle reader, does not mean to say that Discord lodges + with all married people, but that the foul fiend is never better + satisfied than when she can find such accommodation.--Translator. + + + + +XXI.--THE YOUNG WIDOW.[26] + + A husband's death brings always sighs; + The widow sobs, sheds tears--then dries. + Of Time the sadness borrows wings; + And Time returning pleasure brings. + Between the widow of a year + And of a day, the difference + Is so immense, + That very few who see her + Would think the laughing dame + And weeping one the same. + The one puts on repulsive action, + The other shows a strong attraction. + The one gives up to sighs, or true or false; + The same sad note is heard, whoever calls. + Her grief is inconsolable, + They say. Not so our fable, + Or, rather, not so says the truth. + + To other worlds a husband went + And left his wife in prime of youth. + Above his dying couch she bent, + And cried, 'My love, O wait for me! + My soul would gladly go with thee!' + (But yet it did not go.) + The fair one's sire, a prudent man, + Check'd not the current of her woe. + At last he kindly thus began:-- + 'My child, your grief should have its bound. + What boots it him beneath the ground + That you should drown your charms? + Live for the living, not the dead. + I don't propose that you be led + At once to Hymen's arms; + But give me leave, in proper time, + To rearrange the broken chime + With one who is as good, at least, + In all respects, as the deceased.' + 'Alas!' she sigh'd, 'the cloister vows + Befit me better than a spouse.' + The father left the matter there. + About one month thus mourn'd the fair; + Another month, her weeds arranged; + Each day some robe or lace she changed, + Till mourning dresses served to grace, + And took of ornament the place. + The frolic band of loves + Came flocking back like doves. + Jokes, laughter, and the dance, + The native growth of France, + Had finally their turn; + And thus, by night and morn, + She plunged, to tell the truth, + Deep in the fount of youth. + Her sire no longer fear'd + The dead so much endear'd; + But, as he never spoke, + Herself the silence broke:-- + 'Where is that youthful spouse,' said she, + 'Whom, sir, you lately promised me?' + +[26] Abstemius. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + Here check we our career: + Long books I greatly fear. + I would not quite exhaust my stuff; + The flower of subjects is enough. + To me, the time is come, it seems, + To draw my breath for other themes. + Love, tyrant of my life, commands + That other work be on my hands. + I dare not disobey. + Once more shall Psyche be my lay. + I'm call'd by Damon to portray + Her sorrows and her joys. + I yield: perhaps, while she employs, + My muse will catch a richer glow; + And well if this my labour'd strain + Shall be the last and only pain + Her spouse[27] shall cause me here below. + +[27] _Her spouse_.--Cupid, the spouse of Psyche. The "other work on + my hands" mentioned in this Epilogue (the end of the poet's first + collection of Fables) was no doubt the writing of his "Psyche," + which was addressed to his patron the Duchess de Bouillon, and + published in 1659, the year following the publication of the first + six Books of the Fables. See also Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VII.[1] + + +To Madame De Montespan[2] + + The apologue[3] is from the immortal gods; + Or, if the gift of man it is, + Its author merits apotheosis. + Whoever magic genius lauds + Will do what in him lies + To raise this art's inventor to the skies. + It hath the potence of a charm, + On dulness lays a conquering arm, + Subjects the mind to its control, + And works its will upon the soul. + O lady, arm'd with equal power, + If e'er within celestial bower, + With messmate gods reclined, + My muse ambrosially hath dined, + Lend me the favour of a smile + On this her playful toil. + If you support, the tooth of time will shun, + And let my work the envious years outrun. + If authors would themselves survive, + To gain your suffrage they should strive. + On you my verses wait to get their worth; + To you my beauties all will owe their birth,-- + For beauties you will recognize + Invisible to other eyes. + Ah! who can boast a taste so true, + Of beauty or of grace, + In either thought or face? + For words and looks are equal charms in you. + Upon a theme so sweet, the truth to tell, + My muse would gladly dwell: + But this employ to others I must yield;-- + A greater master claims the field. + For me, fair lady, 'twere enough + Your name should be my wall and roof. + Protect henceforth the favour'd book + Through which for second life I look. + In your auspicious light, + These lines, in envy's spite, + Will gain the glorious meed, + That all the world shall read. + 'Tis not that I deserve such fame;-- + I only ask in Fable's name, + (You know what credit that should claim;) + And, if successfully I sue, + A fane will be to Fable due,-- + A thing I would not build--except for you. + +[1] Here commences the second collection of La Fontaine's Fables, + comprising Books VII. to XI. This collection was published in 1678-9, + ten years after the publication of the foregoing six Books. See + Translator's Preface. +[2] _Madame de Montespan_.--Francoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart de + Mortemart, Marquise de Montespan, born 1641, died 1707. She + became one of the mistresses of the "Grand Monarque," Louis XIV., in + 1668. +[3] _The apologue._--Here, as in the opening fable of Books V. and + VI., and elsewhere, La Fontaine defines Fable and defends the art of + the Fabulist. + + + + +I.--THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.[4] + + The sorest ill that Heaven hath + Sent on this lower world in wrath,-- + The plague (to call it by its name,) + One single day of which + Would Pluto's ferryman enrich,-- + Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. + They died not all, but all were sick: + No hunting now, by force or trick, + To save what might so soon expire. + No food excited their desire; + Nor wolf nor fox now watch'd to slay + The innocent and tender prey. + The turtles fled; + So love and therefore joy were dead. + The lion council held, and said: + 'My friends, I do believe + This awful scourge, for which we grieve, + Is for our sins a punishment + Most righteously by Heaven sent. + Let us our guiltiest beast resign, + A sacrifice to wrath divine. + Perhaps this offering, truly small, + May gain the life and health of all. + By history we find it noted + That lives have been just so devoted. + Then let us all turn eyes within, + And ferret out the hidden sin. + Himself let no one spare nor flatter, + But make clean conscience in the matter. + For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton + Too much and often upon mutton. + What harm had e'er my victims done? + I answer, truly, None. + Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, + I've eat the shepherd with the rest. + I yield myself, if need there be; + And yet I think, in equity, + Each should confess his sins with me; + For laws of right and justice cry, + The guiltiest alone should die.' + 'Sire,' said the fox, 'your majesty + Is humbler than a king should be, + And over-squeamish in the case. + What! eating stupid sheep a crime? + No, never, sire, at any time. + It rather was an act of grace, + A mark of honour to their race. + And as to shepherds, one may swear, + The fate your majesty describes, + Is recompense less full than fair + For such usurpers o'er our tribes.' + + Thus Renard glibly spoke, + And loud applause from flatterers broke. + Of neither tiger, boar, nor bear, + Did any keen inquirer dare + To ask for crimes of high degree; + The fighters, biters, scratchers, all + From every mortal sin were free; + The very dogs, both great and small, + Were saints, as far as dogs could be. + + The ass, confessing in his turn, + Thus spoke in tones of deep concern:-- + 'I happen'd through a mead to pass; + The monks, its owners, were at mass; + Keen hunger, leisure, tender grass, + And add to these the devil too, + All tempted me the deed to do. + I browsed the bigness of my tongue; + Since truth must out, I own it wrong.' + + On this, a hue and cry arose, + As if the beasts were all his foes: + A wolf, haranguing lawyer-wise, + Denounced the ass for sacrifice-- + The bald-pate, scabby, ragged lout, + By whom the plague had come, no doubt. + His fault was judged a hanging crime. + 'What? eat another's grass? O shame! + The noose of rope and death sublime,' + For that offence, were all too tame! + And soon poor Grizzle felt the same. + + Thus human courts acquit the strong, + And doom the weak, as therefore wrong. + +[4] One of the most original as well as one of the most beautiful of the + poet's fables, yet much of the groundwork of its story may be traced + in the Fables of Bidpaii and other collections. See also note to + Fable XXII., Book I. + + + + +II.--THE ILL-MARRIED. + + If worth, were not a thing more rare + Than beauty in this planet fair, + There would be then less need of care + About the contracts Hymen closes. + But beauty often is the bait + To love that only ends in hate; + And many hence repent too late + Of wedding thorns from wooing roses.[5] + My tale makes one of these poor fellows, + Who sought relief from marriage vows, + Send back again his tedious spouse, + Contentious, covetous, and jealous, + With nothing pleased or satisfied, + This restless, comfort-killing bride + Some fault in every one descried. + Her good man went to bed too soon, + Or lay in bed till almost noon. + Too cold, too hot,--too black, too white,-- + Were on her tongue from morn till night. + The servants mad and madder grew; + The husband knew not what to do. + 'Twas, 'Dear, you never think or care;' + And, 'Dear, that price we cannot bear;' + And, 'Dear, you never stay at home;' + And, 'Dear, I wish you would just come;' + Till, finally, such ceaseless dearing + Upon her husband's patience wearing, + Back to her sire's he sent his wife, + To taste the sweets of country life, + To dance at will the country jigs, + And feed the turkeys, geese, and pigs. + In course of time, he hoped his bride + Might have her temper mollified; + Which hope he duly put to test. + His wife recall'd, said he, + 'How went with you your rural rest, + From vexing cares and fashions free? + Its peace and quiet did you gain,-- + Its innocence without a stain?' + 'Enough of all,' said she; 'but then + To see those idle, worthless men + Neglect the flocks, it gave me pain. + I told them, plainly, what I thought, + And thus their hatred quickly bought; + For which I do not care--not I.' + 'Ah, madam,' did her spouse reply, + 'If still your temper's so morose, + And tongue so virulent, that those + Who only see you morn and night + Are quite grown weary of the sight, + What, then, must be your servants' case, + Who needs must see you face to face, + Throughout the day? + And what must be the harder lot + Of him, I pray, + Whose days and nights + With you must be by marriage rights? + Return you to your father's cot. + If I recall you in my life, + Or even wish for such a wife, + Let Heaven, in my hereafter, send + Two such, to tease me without end!' + +[5] The badinage of La Fontaine having been misunderstood, the + translator has altered the introduction to this fable. The intention + of the fable is to recommend prudence and good nature, not celibacy. + So the peerless Granville understands it, for his pencil tells us + that the hero of the fable did finally recall his wife, + notwithstanding his fearful imprecation. It seems that even she was + better than none.--Translator; (in his sixth edition). + + + + +III.--THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD. + + The sage Levantines have a tale + About a rat that weary grew + Of all the cares which life assail, + And to a Holland cheese withdrew. + His solitude was there profound, + Extending through his world so round. + Our hermit lived on that within; + And soon his industry had been + With claws and teeth so good, + That in his novel hermitage, + He had in store, for wants of age, + Both house and livelihood. + What more could any rat desire? + He grew fair, fat, and round. + 'God's blessings thus redound + To those who in His vows retire.'[6] + One day this personage devout, + Whose kindness none might doubt, + Was ask'd, by certain delegates + That came from Rat-United-States, + For some small aid, for they + To foreign parts were on their way, + For succour in the great cat-war. + Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, + Their whole republic drain'd and poor, + No morsel in their scrips they bore. + Slight boon they craved, of succour sure + In days at utmost three or four. + 'My friends,' the hermit said, + 'To worldly things I'm dead. + How can a poor recluse + To such a mission be of use? + What can he do but pray + That God will aid it on its way? + And so, my friends, it is my prayer + That God will have you in his care.' + His well-fed saintship said no more, + But in their faces shut the door. + What think you, reader, is the service + For which I use this niggard rat? + To paint a monk? No, but a dervise. + A monk, I think, however fat, + Must be more bountiful than that. + +[6] _God's blessing, &c_.--So the rat himself professed to consider the + matter.--Translator. + + + + +IV.--THE HERON.[7] + + One day,--no matter when or where,-- + A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare + By a certain river's brink, + With his long, sharp beak + Helved on his slender neck; + 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. + The water was clear and still, + The carp and the pike there at will + Pursued their silent fun, + Turning up, ever and anon, + A golden side to the sun. + With ease might the heron have made + Great profits in his fishing trade. + So near came the scaly fry, + They might be caught by the passer-by. + But he thought he better might + Wait for a better appetite-- + For he lived by rule, and could not eat, + Except at his hours, the best of meat. + Anon his appetite return'd once more; + So, approaching again the shore, + He saw some tench taking their leaps, + Now and then, from their lowest deeps. + With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, + He turn'd away from such food as that. + 'What, tench for a heron! poh! + I scorn the thought, and let them go.' + The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; + 'For all that,' said the bird, 'I budge on. + I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, + For such mean little fishes as these.' + He did it for less; + For it came to pass, + That not another fish could he see; + And, at last, so hungry was he, + That he thought it of some avail + To find on the bank a single snail. + Such is the sure result + Of being too difficult. + Would you be strong and great, + Learn to accommodate. + Get what you can, and trust for the rest; + The whole is oft lost by seeking the best. + Above all things beware of disdain; + Where, at most, you have little to gain. + The people are many that make + Every day this sad mistake. + 'Tis not for the herons I put this case, + Ye featherless people, of human race. + --List to another tale as true, + And you'll hear the lesson brought home to you.[8] + +[7] Abstemius. +[8] _The lesson brought home to you_. The two last lines refer the + reader to the next fable. + + + + +V.--THE MAID.[9] + + A certain maid, as proud as fair, + A husband thought to find + Exactly to her mind-- + Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, + Not cold nor jealous;--mark this well. + Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle + Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit, + And all good qualities to fit-- + A man 'twere difficult to get. + Kind Fate, however, took great care + To grant, if possible, her prayer. + There came a-wooing men of note; + The maiden thought them all, + By half, too mean and small. + 'They marry me! the creatures dote:-- + Alas! poor souls! their case I pity.' + (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.) + Some were less delicate than witty; + Some had the nose too short or long; + In others something else was wrong; + Which made each in the maiden's eyes + An altogether worthless prize. + Profound contempt is aye the vice + Which springs from being over-nice, + Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then + Came offers from inferior men. + The maid, more scornful than before, + Took credit to her tender heart + For giving then an open door. + 'They think me much in haste to part + With independence! God be thank'd + My lonely nights bring no regret; + Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret, + Should I with ancient maids be rank'd.' + Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair: + Age made them only thoughts that were. + Adieu to lovers:--passing years + Awaken doubts and chilling fears. + Regret, at last, brings up the train. + Day after day she sees, with pain, + Some smile or charm take final flight, + And leave the features of a 'fright.' + Then came a hundred sorts of paint: + But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint, + Avail'd to hide the cause of grief, + Or bar out Time, that graceless thief. + A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, + May be repair'd and made a new one. + Alas! for ruins of the face + No such rebuilding e'er takes place. + Her daintiness now changed its tune; + Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon!' + So did a certain wish within, + With more of secrecy than sin,-- + A wish that dwells with even prudes, + Annihilating solitudes. + This maiden's choice was past belief, + She soothing down her restless grief, + And smoothing it of every ripple, + By marrying a cripple. + +[9] This fable should be read in conjunction with the foregoing one. + + + + +VI.--THE WISHES. + + Within the Great Mogul's domains there are + Familiar sprites of much domestic use: + They sweep the house, and take a tidy care + Of equipage, nor garden work refuse; + But, if you meddle with their toil, + The whole, at once, you're sure to spoil. + One, near the mighty Ganges flood, + The garden of a burgher good + Work'd noiselessly and well; + To master, mistress, garden, bore + A love that time and toil outwore, + And bound him like a spell. + Did friendly zephyrs blow, + The demon's pains to aid? + (For so they do, 'tis said.) + I own I do not know. + But for himself he rested not, + And richly bless'd his master's lot. + What mark'd his strength of love, + He lived a fixture on the place, + In spite of tendency to rove + So natural to his race. + But brother sprites conspiring + With importunity untiring, + So teased their goblin chief, that he, + Of his caprice, or policy, + Our sprite commanded to attend + A house in Norway's farther end, + Whose roof was snow-clad through the year, + And shelter'd human kind with deer. + Before departing to his hosts + Thus spake this best of busy ghosts:-- + 'To foreign parts I'm forced to go! + For what sad fault I do not know;-- + But go I must; a month's delay, + Or week's perhaps, and I'm away. + Seize time; three wishes make at will; + For three I'm able to fulfil-- + No more.' Quick at their easy task, + Abundance first these wishers ask-- + Abundance, with her stores unlock'd-- + Barns, coffers, cellars, larder, stock'd-- + Corn, cattle, wine, and money,-- + The overflow of milk and honey. + But what to do with all this wealth! + What inventories, cares, and worry! + What wear of temper and of health! + Both lived in constant, slavish hurry. + Thieves took by plot, and lords by loan; + The king by tax, the poor by tone. + Thus felt the curses which + Arise from being rich,-- + 'Remove this affluence!' they pray; + The poor are happier than they + Whose riches make them slaves. + 'Go, treasures, to the winds and waves; + Come, goddess of the quiet breast, + Who sweet'nest toil with rest, + Dear Mediocrity, return!' + The prayer was granted as we learn. + Two wishes thus expended, + Had simply ended + In bringing them exactly where, + When they set out they were. + So, usually, it fares + With those who waste in such vain prayers + The time required by their affairs. + The goblin laugh'd, and so did they. + However, ere he went away, + To profit by his offer kind, + They ask'd for wisdom, wealth of mind,-- + A treasure void of care and sorrow-- + A treasure fearless of the morrow, + Let who will steal, or beg, or borrow. + + + + + +VII.--THE LION'S COURT.[10] + + His lion majesty would know, one day, + What bestial tribes were subject to his sway. + He therefore gave his vassals all, + By deputies a call, + Despatching everywhere + A written circular, + Which bore his seal, and did import + His majesty would hold his court + A month most splendidly;-- + A feast would open his levee, + Which done, Sir Jocko's sleight + Would give the court delight. + By such sublime magnificence + The king would show his power immense. + + Now were they gather'd all + Within the royal hall.-- + And such a hall! The charnel scent + Would make the strongest nerves relent. + The bear put up his paw to close + The double access of his nose. + The act had better been omitted; + His throne at once the monarch quitted, + And sent to Pluto's court the bear, + To show his delicacy there. + The ape approved the cruel deed, + A thorough flatterer by breed. + He praised the prince's wrath and claws, + He praised the odour and its cause. + Judged by the fragrance of that cave, + The amber of the Baltic wave, + The rose, the pink, the hawthorn bank, + Might with the vulgar garlic rank. + The mark his flattery overshot, + And made him share poor Bruin's lot; + This lion playing in his way, + The part of Don Caligula. + The fox approach'd. 'Now,' said the king, + 'Apply your nostrils to this thing, + And let me hear, without disguise, + The judgment of a beast so wise.' + The fox replied, 'Your Majesty will please + Excuse'--and here he took good care to sneeze;-- + 'Afflicted with a dreadful cold, + Your majesty need not be told: + My sense of smell is mostly gone.' + + From danger thus withdrawn, + He teaches us the while, + That one, to gain the smile + Of kings, must hold the middle place + 'Twixt blunt rebuke and fulsome praise; + And sometimes use with easy grace, + The language of the Norman race.[11] + +[10] Phaedrus. IV. 13. +[11] The Normans are proverbial among the French for the oracular + noncommittal of their responses.--_Un Normand_, says the proverb, + _a son dit et son détit._--Translator. + + + + +VIII.--THE VULTURES AND THE PIGEONS.[12] + + Mars once made havoc in the air: + Some cause aroused a quarrel there + Among the birds;--not those that sing, + The courtiers of the merry Spring, + And by their talk, in leafy bowers, + Of loves they feel, enkindle ours; + Nor those which Cupid's mother yokes + To whirl on high her golden spokes; + But naughty hawk and vulture folks, + Of hooked beak and talons keen. + The carcass of a dog, 'tis said, + Had to this civil carnage led. + Blood rain'd upon the swarded green, + And valiant deeds were done, I ween. + But time and breath would surely fail + To give the fight in full detail; + Suffice to say, that chiefs were slain, + And heroes strow'd the sanguine plain, + Till old Prometheus, in his chains, + Began to hope an end of pains. + 'Twas sport to see the battle rage, + And valiant hawk with hawk engage; + 'Twas pitiful to see them fall,-- + Torn, bleeding, weltering, gasping, all. + Force, courage, cunning, all were plied; + Intrepid troops on either side + No effort spared to populate + The dusky realms of hungry Fate. + This woful strife awoke compassion + Within another feather'd nation, + Of iris neck and tender heart. + They tried their hand at mediation-- + To reconcile the foes, or part. + The pigeon people duly chose + Ambassadors, who work'd so well + As soon the murderous rage to quell, + And stanch the source of countless woes. + A truce took place, and peace ensued. + Alas! the people dearly paid + Who such pacification made! + Those cursed hawks at once pursued + The harmless pigeons, slew and ate, + Till towns and fields were desolate. + Small prudence had the friends of peace + To pacify such foes as these! + + The safety of the rest requires + The bad should flesh each other's spears: + Whoever peace with them desires + Had better set them by the ears. + +[12] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE COACH AND THE FLY.[13] + + Upon a sandy, uphill road, + Which naked in the sunshine glow'd, + Six lusty horses drew a coach. + Dames, monks, and invalids, its load, + On foot, outside, at leisure trode. + The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd: + Whereon there did a fly approach, + And, with a vastly business air. + Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz,-- + Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there, + As neatly as a jockey does,-- + And thought the while--he knew 'twas so-- + He made the team and carriage go,-- + On carriage-pole sometimes alighting-- + Or driver's nose--and biting. + And when the whole did get in motion, + Confirm'd and settled in the notion, + He took, himself, the total glory,-- + Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry, + And, as he buzz'd about the cattle, + Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle, + The files and squadrons leading on + To where the victory is won. + Thus charged with all the commonweal, + This single fly began to feel + Responsibility too great, + And cares, a grievous crushing weight; + And made complaint that none would aid + The horses up the tedious hill-- + The monk his prayers at leisure said-- + Fine time to pray!--the dames, at will, + Were singing songs--not greatly needed! + Thus in their ears he sharply sang, + And notes of indignation ran,-- + Notes, after all, not greatly heeded. + Erelong the coach was on the top: + 'Now,' said the fly, 'my hearties, stop + And breathe;--I've got you up the hill; + And Messrs. Horses, let me say, + I need not ask you if you will + A proper compensation pay.' + + Thus certain ever-bustling noddies + Are seen in every great affair; + Important, swelling, busy-bodies, + And bores 'tis easier to bear + Than chase them from their needless care. + +[13] Aesop; also Phaedrus, III., 6. + + + + +X.--THE DAIRYWOMAN AND THE POT OF MILK. + + A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, + Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; + Short clad and light, with speed she went, + Not fearing any accident; + Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, + Her dress that day, + The truth to say, + Was simple petticoat and slipper. + And, thus bedight, + Good Peggy, light,-- + Her gains already counted,-- + Laid out the cash + At single dash, + Which to a hundred eggs amounted. + Three nests she made, + Which, by the aid + Of diligence and care were hatch'd. + 'To raise the chicks, + I'll easy fix,' + Said she, 'beside our cottage thatch'd. + The fox must get + More cunning yet, + Or leave enough to buy a pig. + With little care + And any fare, + He'll grow quite fat and big; + And then the price + Will be so nice, + For which, the pork will sell! + 'Twill go quite hard + But in our yard + I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell-- + A calf to frisk among the flock!' + The thought made Peggy do the same; + And down at once the milk-pot came, + And perish'd with the shock. + Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! + Your mistress' face is sad to view; + She gives a tear to fortune spilt; + Then with the downcast look of guilt + Home to her husband empty goes, + Somewhat in danger of his blows. + + Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air + His cots, or seats, or castles fair? + From kings to dairy women,--all,-- + The wise, the foolish, great and small,-- + Each thinks his waking dream the best. + Some flattering error fills the breast: + The world with all its wealth is ours, + Its honours, dames, and loveliest bowers. + Instinct with valour, when alone, + I hurl the monarch from his throne; + The people, glad to see him dead, + Elect me monarch in his stead, + And diadems rain on my head. + Some accident then calls me back, + And I'm no more than simple Jack.[14] + +[14] This and the following fable should be read together. See note to + next fable. + + + + +XI.--THE CURATE AND THE CORPSE.[15] + + A dead man going slowly, sadly, + To occupy his last abode, + A curate by him, rather gladly, + Did holy service on the road. + Within a coach the dead was borne, + A robe around him duly worn, + Of which I wot he was not proud-- + That ghostly garment call'd a shroud. + In summer's blaze and winter's blast, + That robe is changeless--'tis the last. + The curate, with his priestly dress on, + Recited all the church's prayers, + The psalm, the verse, response, and lesson, + In fullest style of such affairs. + Sir Corpse, we beg you, do not fear + A lack of such things on your bier; + They'll give abundance every way, + Provided only that you pay. + The Reverend John Cabbagepate + Watch'd o'er the corpse as if it were + A treasure needing guardian care; + And all the while, his looks elate, + This language seem'd to hold: + 'The dead will pay so much in gold, + So much in lights of molten wax, + So much in other sorts of tax:' + With all he hoped to buy a cask of wine, + The best which thereabouts produced the vine. + A pretty niece, on whom he doted, + And eke his chambermaid, should be promoted, + By being newly petticoated. + The coach upset, and dash'd to pieces, + Cut short these thoughts of wine and nieces! + There lay poor John with broken head, + Beneath the coffin of the dead! + His rich, parishioner in lead + Drew on the priest the doom + Of riding with him to the tomb! + + The Pot of Milk,[16] and fate + Of Curate Cabbagepate, + As emblems, do but give + The history of most that live. + +[15] This fable is founded upon a fact, which is related by Madame de + Sévigné in her _Letters_ under date Feb. 26, 1672, as + follows:--"M. Boufflers has killed a man since his death: the + circumstance was this: they were carrying him about a league from + Boufflers to inter him; the corpse was on a bier in a coach; his own + curate attended it; the coach overset, and the bier falling upon the + curate's neck choaked him." M. de Boufflers had fallen down dead a + few days before. He was the eldest brother of the Duke de Boufflers. + In another _Letter_, March 3, 1672, Madame de Sévigné + says:--"Here is Fontaine's fable too, on the adventure of M. de + Boufflers' curate, who was killed in the coach by his dead patron. + There was something very extraordinary in the affair itself: the + fable is pretty; but not to be compared to the one that follows it: + I do not understand the Milk-pot." +[16] This allusion to the preceding fable must be the "milk-pot" which + Madame de Sévigné did "not understand" (_vide_ last note); + Madame can hardly have meant the "milk-pot" fable, which is easily + understood. She often saw La Fontaine's work before it was + published, and the date of her letter quoted at p. 161 shows that + she must so have seen the "Curate and the Corpse," and that, + perhaps, without so seeing the "Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk." + + + + +XII.--THE MAN WHO RAN AFTER FORTUNE, AND THE MAN WHO WAITED FOR HER IN +HIS BED. + + Who joins not with his restless race + To give Dame Fortune eager chase? + O, had I but some lofty perch, + From which to view the panting crowd + Of care-worn dreamers, poor and proud, + As on they hurry in the search, + From realm to realm, o'er land and water, + Of Fate's fantastic, fickle daughter! + Ah! slaves sincere of flying phantom! + Just as their goddess they would clasp, + The jilt divine eludes their grasp, + And flits away to Bantam! + Poor fellows! I bewail their lot. + And here's the comfort of my ditty; + For fools the mark of wrath are not + So much, I'm sure, as pity. + 'That man,' say they, and feed their hope, + 'Raised cabbages--and now he's pope. + Don't we deserve as rich a prize?' + Ay, richer? But, hath Fortune eyes? + And then the popedom, is it worth + The price that must be given?-- + Repose?--the sweetest bliss of earth, + And, ages since, of gods in heaven? + 'Tis rarely Fortune's favourites + Enjoy this cream of all delights. + Seek not the dame, and she will you-- + A truth which of her sex is true. + + Snug in a country town + A pair of friends were settled down. + One sigh'd unceasingly to find + A fortune better to his mind, + And, as he chanced his friend to meet, + Proposed to quit their dull retreat. + 'No prophet can to honour come,' + Said he, 'unless he quits his home; + Let's seek our fortune far and wide.' + 'Seek, if you please,' his friend replied: + 'For one, I do not wish to see + A better clime or destiny. + I leave the search and prize to you; + Your restless humour please pursue! + You'll soon come back again. + I vow to nap it here till then.' + The enterprising, or ambitious, + Or, if you please, the avaricious, + Betook him to the road. + The morrow brought him to a place + The flaunting goddess ought to grace + As her particular abode-- + I mean the court--whereat he staid, + And plans for seizing Fortune laid. + He rose, and dress'd, and dined, and went to bed, + Exactly as the fashion led: + In short, he did whate'er he could, + But never found the promised good. + Said he, 'Now somewhere else I'll try-- + And yet I fail'd I know not why; + For Fortune here is much at home + To this and that I see her come, + Astonishingly kind to some. + And, truly, it is hard to see + The reason why she slips from me. + 'Tis true, perhaps, as I've been told, + That spirits here may be too bold. + To courts and courtiers all I bid adieu; + Deceitful shadows they pursue. + The dame has temples in Surat; + I'll go and see them--that is flat.' + To say so was t' embark at once. + O, human hearts are made of bronze! + His must have been of adamant, + Beyond the power of Death to daunt, + Who ventured first this route to try, + And all its frightful risks defy. + 'Twas more than once our venturous wight + Did homeward turn his aching sight, + When pirate's, rocks, and calms and storms, + Presented death in frightful forms-- + Death sought with pains on distant shores, + Which soon as wish'd for would have come, + Had he not left the peaceful doors + Of his despised but blessed home. + Arrived, at length, in Hindostan, + The people told our wayward man + That Fortune, ever void of plan, + Dispensed her favours in Japan. + And on he went, the weary sea + His vessel bearing lazily. + This lesson, taught by savage men, + Was after all his only gain:-- + Contented in thy country stay, + And seek thy wealth in nature's way. + Japan refused to him, no less + Than Hindostan, success; + And hence his judgment came to make + His quitting home a great mistake. + Renouncing his ungrateful course, + He hasten'd back with all his force; + And when his village came in sight, + His tears were proof of his delight. + 'Ah, happy he,' exclaimed the wight, + 'Who, dwelling there with mind sedate, + Employs himself to regulate + His ever-hatching, wild desires; + Who checks his heart when it aspires + To know of courts, and seas, and glory, + More than he can by simple story; + Who seeks not o'er the treacherous wave-- + More treacherous Fortune's willing slave-- + The bait of wealth and honours fleeting, + Held by that goddess, aye retreating. + Henceforth from home I budge no more!' + Pop on his sleeping friends he came, + Thus purposing against the dame, + And found her sitting at his door.[17] + +[17] See note to preceding fable, for Madame de Sévigné's opinion. + + + + +XIII.--THE TWO COCKS.[18] + + Two cocks in peace were living, when + A war was kindled by a hen. + O love, thou bane of Troy! 'twas thine + The blood of men and gods to shed + Enough to turn the Xanthus red + As old Port wine! + And long the battle doubtful stood: + (I mean the battle of the cocks;) + They gave each other fearful shocks: + The fame spread o'er the neighbourhood, + And gather'd all the crested brood. + And Helens more than one, of plumage bright, + Led off the victor of that bloody fight. + The vanquish'd, drooping, fled, + Conceal'd his batter'd head, + And in a dark retreat + Bewail'd his sad defeat. + His loss of glory and the prize + His rival now enjoy'd before his eyes. + While this he every day beheld, + His hatred kindled, courage swell'd: + He whet his beak, and flapp'd his wings, + And meditated dreadful things. + Waste rage! His rival flew upon a roof + And crow'd to give his victory proof.-- + A hawk this boasting heard: + Now perish'd all his pride, + As suddenly he died + Beneath that savage bird. + In consequence of this reverse, + The vanquish'd sallied from his hole, + And took the harem, master sole, + For moderate penance not the worse. + Imagine the congratulation, + The proud and stately leading, + Gallanting, coaxing, feeding, + Of wives almost a nation! + 'Tis thus that Fortune loves to flee + The insolent by victory. + We should mistrust her when we beat, + Lest triumph lead us to defeat. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE INGRATITUDE AND INJUSTICE OF MEN TOWARDS FORTUNE.[19] + + A trader on the sea to riches grew; + Freight after freight the winds in favour blew; + Fate steer'd him clear; gulf, rock, nor shoal + Of all his bales exacted toll. + Of other men the powers of chance and storm + Their dues collected in substantial form; + While smiling Fortune, in her kindest sport, + Took care to waft his vessels to their port. + His partners, factors, agents, faithful proved; + His goods--tobacco, sugar, spice-- + Were sure to fetch the highest price. + By fashion and by folly loved, + His rich brocades and laces, + And splendid porcelain vases, + Enkindling strong desires, + Most readily found buyers. + In short, gold rain'd where'er he went-- + Abundance, more than could be spent-- + Dogs, horses, coaches, downy bedding-- + His very fasts were like a wedding. + A bosom friend, a look his table giving, + Inquired whence came such sumptuous living. + 'Whence should it come,' said he, superb of brow, + 'But from the fountain of my knowing how? + I owe it simply to my skill and care + In risking only where the marts will bear.' + And now, so sweet his swelling profits were, + He risk'd anew his former gains: + Success rewarded not his pains-- + His own imprudence was the cause. + One ship, ill-freighted, went awreck; + Another felt of arms the lack, + When pirates, trampling on the laws, + O'ercame, and bore it off a prize. + A third, arriving at its port, + Had fail'd to sell its merchandize,-- + The style and folly of the court + Not now requiring such a sort. + His agents, factors, fail'd;--in short, + The man himself, from pomp and princely cheer, + And palaces, and parks, and dogs, and deer, + Fell down to poverty most sad and drear. + His friend, now meeting him in shabby plight, + Exclaim'd, 'And whence comes this to pass?' + 'From Fortune,' said the man, 'alas!' + 'Console yourself,' replied the friendly wight: + 'For, if to make you rich the dame denies, + She can't forbid you to be wise.' + + What faith he gain'd, I do not wis; + I know, in every case like this, + Each claims the credit of his bliss, + And with a heart ingrate + Imputes his misery to Fate.[20] + +[19] Abstemius. +[20] On this favourite subject with the easy-going La Fontaine--man's + ungracious treatment of Fortune--see also the two preceding fables, + and some neighbouring ones. + + + + +XV.--THE FORTUNE-TELLERS. + + 'Tis oft from chance opinion takes its rise, + And into reputation multiplies. + This prologue finds pat applications + In men of all this world's vocations; + For fashion, prejudice, and party strife, + Conspire to crowd poor justice out of life. + What can you do to counteract + This reckless, rushing cataract? + 'Twill have its course for good or bad, + As it, indeed, has always had. + + A dame in Paris play'd the Pythoness[21] + With much of custom, and, of course, success. + Was any trifle lost, or did + Some maid a husband wish, + Or wife of husband to be rid, + Or either sex for fortune fish, + Resort was had to her with gold, + To get the hidden future told. + Her art was made of various tricks, + Wherein the dame contrived to mix, + With much assurance, learned terms. + Now, chance, of course, sometimes confirms; + And just as often as it did, + The news was anything but hid. + In short, though, as to ninety-nine per cent., + The lady knew not what her answers meant, + Borne up by ever-babbling Fame, + An oracle she soon became. + A garret was this woman's home, + Till she had gain'd of gold a sum + That raised the station of her spouse-- + Bought him an office and a house. + As she could then no longer bear it, + Another tenanted the garret. + To her came up the city crowd,-- + Wives, maidens, servants, gentry proud,-- + To ask their fortunes, as before; + A Sibyl's cave was on her garret floor: + Such custom had its former mistress drawn + It lasted even when herself was gone. + It sorely tax'd the present mistress' wits + To satisfy the throngs of teasing cits. + 'I tell your fortunes! joke, indeed! + Why, gentlemen, I cannot read! + What can you, ladies, learn from me, + Who never learn'd my A, B, C?' + Avaunt with reasons! tell she must,-- + Predict as if she understood, + And lay aside more precious dust + Than two the ablest lawyers could. + The stuff that garnish'd out her room-- + Four crippled chairs, a broken broom-- + Help'd mightily to raise her merits,-- + Full proof of intercourse with spirits! + Had she predicted e'er so truly, + On floor with carpet cover'd duly, + Her word had been a mockery made. + The fashion set upon the garret. + Doubt that?--none bold enough to dare it! + The other woman lost her trade. + + All shopmen know the force of signs, + And so, indeed, do some divines. + In palaces, a robe awry + Has sometimes set the wearer high; + And crowds his teaching will pursue + Who draws the greatest listening crew. + Ask, if you please, the reason why. + +[21] _Pythoness_.--The Pythoness was the priestess who gave out the + oracles at Delphi. + + + + +XVI.--THE CAT, THE WEASEL, AND THE YOUNG RABBIT.[22] + + John Rabbit's palace under ground + Was once by Goody Weasel found. + She, sly of heart, resolved to seize + The place, and did so at her ease. + She took possession while its lord + Was absent on the dewy sward, + Intent upon his usual sport, + A courtier at Aurora's court. + When he had browsed his fill of clover + And cut his pranks all nicely over, + Home Johnny came to take his drowse, + All snug within his cellar-house. + The weasel's nose he came to see, + Outsticking through the open door. + 'Ye gods of hospitality!' + Exclaim'd the creature, vexèd sore, + 'Must I give up my father's lodge? + Ho! Madam Weasel, please to budge, + Or, quicker than a weasel's dodge, + I'll call the rats to pay their grudge!' + The sharp-nosed lady made reply, + That she was first to occupy. + The cause of war was surely small-- + A house where one could only crawl! + And though it were a vast domain, + Said she, 'I'd like to know what will + Could grant to John perpetual reign,-- + The son of Peter or of Bill,-- + More than to Paul, or even me.' + John Rabbit spoke--great lawyer he-- + Of custom, usage, as the law, + Whereby the house, from sire to son, + As well as all its store of straw, + From Peter came at length to John. + Who could present a claim, so good + As he, the first possessor, could? + 'Now,' said the dame, 'let's drop dispute, + And go before Raminagrobis, [23] + Who'll judge, not only in this suit, + But tell us truly whose the globe is.' + This person was a hermit cat, + A cat that play'd the hypocrite, + A saintly mouser, sleek and fat, + An arbiter of keenest wit. + John Rabbit in the judge concurr'd, + And off went both their case to broach + Before his majesty, the furr'd. + Said Clapperclaw, 'My kits, approach, + And put your noses to my ears: + I'm deaf, almost, by weight of years.' + And so they did, not fearing aught. + The good apostle, Clapperclaw, + Then laid on each a well-arm'd paw, + And both to an agreement brought, + By virtue of his tuskèd jaw. + + This brings to mind the fate + Of little kings before the great. + +[22] Fables of Bidpaii, "The Rat and the Cat." In Knatchbull's English + edition it will be found at p. 275. Also in the Lokman Collection. +[23] _Raminagrobis._--This name occurs in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 21), where, however, it is not the name of a cat, but of a + poet--understood to be meant for Guillaume Cretin, who lived in the + times of Kings Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. See note to + Bohn's edition of Rabelais. + + + + +XVII.--THE HEAD AND THE TAIL OF THE SERPENT.[24] + + Two parts the serpent has-- + Of men the enemies-- + The head and tail: the same + Have won a mighty fame, + Next to the cruel Fates;-- + So that, indeed, hence + They once had great debates + About precedence. + The first had always gone ahead; + The tail had been for ever led; + And now to Heaven it pray'd, + And said, + 'O, many and many a league, + Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, + Behind his back I go. + Shall he for ever use me so? + Am I his humble servant; + No. Thanks to God most fervent! + His brother I was born, + And not his slave forlorn. + The self-same blood in both, + I'm just as good as he: + A poison dwells in me + As virulent as doth[25] + In him. In mercy, heed, + And grant me this decree, + That I, in turn, may lead-- + My brother, follow me. + My course shall be so wise, + That no complaint shall rise.' + + With cruel kindness Heaven granted + The very thing he blindly wanted: + To such desires of beasts and men, + Though often deaf, it was not then. + At once this novel guide, + That saw no more in broad daylight + Than in the murk of darkest night, + His powers of leading tried, + Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, + And led his brother straight to Styx. + And to the same unlovely home, + Some states by such an error come. + +[24] Plutarch's Lives, _Agis_, "The fable of the servant, enforcing + the moral that you cannot have the same man both for your governor + and your slave." +[25] An ancient mistake in natural history.--Translator. + + + + +XVIII.--AN ANIMAL IN THE MOON.[26] + + While one philosopher[27] affirms + That by our senses we're deceived, + Another[28] swears, in plainest terms, + The senses are to be believed. + The twain are right. Philosophy + Correctly calls us dupes whene'er + Upon mere senses we rely. + But when we wisely rectify + The raw report of eye or ear, + By distance, medium, circumstance, + In real knowledge we advance. + These things hath nature wisely plann'd-- + Whereof the proof shall be at hand. + I see the sun: its dazzling glow + Seems but a hand-breadth here below; + But should I see it in its home, + That azure, star-besprinkled dome, + Of all the universe the eye, + Its blaze would fill one half the sky. + The powers of trigonometry + Have set my mind from blunder free. + The ignorant believe it flat; + I make it round, instead of that. + I fasten, fix, on nothing ground it, + And send the earth to travel round it. + In short, I contradict my eyes, + And sift the truth from constant lies. + The mind, not hasty at conclusion, + Resists the onset of illusion, + Forbids the sense to get the better, + And ne'er believes it to the letter. + Between my eyes, perhaps too ready, + And ears as much or more too slow, + A judge with balance true and steady, + I come, at last, some things to know. + Thus when the water crooks a stick,[29] + My reason straightens it as quick-- + Kind Mistress Reason--foe of error, + And best of shields from needless terror! + The creed is common with our race, + The moon contains a woman's face. + True? No. Whence, then, the notion, + From mountain top to ocean? + The roughness of that satellite, + Its hills and dales, of every grade, + Effect a change of light and shade + Deceptive to our feeble sight; + So that, besides the human face, + All sorts of creatures one might trace. + Indeed, a living beast, I ween, + Has lately been by England seen. + All duly placed the telescope, + And keen observers full of hope, + An animal entirely new, + In that fair planet, came to view. + Abroad and fast the wonder flew;-- + Some change had taken place on high, + Presaging earthly changes nigh; + Perhaps, indeed, it might betoken + The wars[30] that had already broken + Out wildly o'er the Continent. + The king to see the wonder went: + (As patron of the sciences, + No right to go more plain than his.) + To him, in turn, distinct and clear, + This lunar monster did appear.-- + A mouse, between the lenses caged, + Had caused these wars, so fiercely waged! + No doubt the happy English folks + Laugh'd at it as the best of jokes. + How soon will Mars afford the chance + For like amusements here in France! + He makes us reap broad fields of glory. + Our foes may fear the battle-ground; + For us, it is no sooner found, + Than Louis, with fresh laurels crown'd, + Bears higher up our country's story. + The daughters, too, of Memory,-- + The Pleasures and the Graces,-- + Still show their cheering faces: + We wish for peace, but do not sigh. + The English Charles the secret knows + To make the most of his repose. + And more than this, he'll know the way, + By valour, working sword in hand, + To bring his sea-encircled land + To share the fight it only sees to-day. + Yet, could he but this quarrel quell, + What incense-clouds would grateful swell! + What deed more worthy of his fame! + Augustus, Julius[31]--pray, which Caesar's name + Shines now on story's page with purest flame? + O people happy in your sturdy hearts! + Say, when shall Peace pack up these bloody darts, + And send us all, like you, to softer arts? + +[26] This fable is founded on a fact which occurred in the experience of + the astronomer Sir Paul Neal, a member of the Royal Society of + London.--Translator. Sir Paul Neal, whose _lapsus_ suggested + this fable, thought he had discovered an animal in the moon. + Unluckily, however, after having made his "discovery" known, it was + found that the ground of it was simply the accidental presence of a + mouse in the object-glass of his telescope. Samuel Butler, the + author of "Hudibras," has also made fun of this otherwise rather + tragical episode in the early history of the Royal Society of + London, _vide_ his "Elephant in the Moon." +[27] _One philosopher._--Democritus, the so-called "laughing (or + scoffing) philosopher." He lived B.C. about 400 years. Fable XXVI., + Book VIII., is devoted to him and how he was treated by his + contemporaries. +[28] _Another._--Epicurus, founder of the Epicurean philosophy. He + lived B. C. about 300 years. +[29] _Water crooks a stick_.--An allusion to the bent appearance + which a stick has in water, consequent upon the refraction of light. +[30] _The wars_.--This fable appears to have been composed about the + beginning of the year 1677. The European powers then found + themselves exhausted by wars, and desirous of peace. England, the + only neutral, became, of course, the arbiter of the negotiations + which ensued at Nimeguen. All the belligerent parties invoked her + mediation. Charles II., however, felt himself exceedingly + embarrassed by his secret connections with Louis XIV., which made + him desire to prescribe conditions favourable to that monarch; + while, on the other hand, he feared the people of England, if, + treacherous to her interests, he should fail to favour the nations + allied and combined against France.--Translator. _Vide_ Hume: + who also says that the English king "had actually in secret sold his + neutrality to France, and he received remittances of 1,000,000 + livres a year, which was afterwards increased to 2,000,000 livres; a + considerable sum in the embarrassed state of his revenue." Hume's + _Hist. England_, Bell's edit., 1854, vol. vi., p. 242. +[31] _Augustus, Julius._--Augustus Caesar was eminent for his pacific + policy, as Julius Caesar was eminent for his warlike policy. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK VIII. + + +I.--DEATH AND THE DYING.[1] + + Death never taketh by surprise + The well-prepared, to wit, the wise-- + They knowing of themselves the time + To meditate the final change of clime. + That time, alas! embraces all + Which into hours and minutes we divide; + There is no part, however small, + That from this tribute one can hide. + The very moment, oft, which bids + The heirs of empire see the light + Is that which shuts their fringèd lids + In everlasting night. + Defend yourself by rank and wealth, + Plead beauty, virtue, youth, and health,-- + Unblushing Death will ravish all; + The world itself shall pass beneath his pall. + No truth is better known; but, truth to say, + No truth is oftener thrown away. + + A man, well in his second century, + Complain'd that Death had call'd him suddenly; + Had left no time his plans to fill, + To balance books, or make his will. + 'O Death,' said he, 'd' ye call it fair, + Without a warning to prepare, + To take a man on lifted leg? + O, wait a little while, I beg. + My wife cannot be left alone; + I must set out my nephew's son, + And let me build my house a wing, + Before you strike, O cruel king!' + 'Old man,' said Death, 'one thing is sure,-- + My visit here's not premature. + Hast thou not lived a century! + Darest thou engage to find for me? + In Paris' walls two older men + Has France, among her millions ten? + Thou say'st I should have sent thee word + Thy lamp to trim, thy loins to gird, + And then my coming had been meet-- + Thy will engross'd, + Thy house complete! + Did not thy feelings notify? + Did not they tell thee thou must die? + Thy taste and hearing are no more; + Thy sight itself is gone before; + For thee the sun superfluous shines, + And all the wealth of Indian mines; + Thy mates I've shown thee dead or dying. + What's this, indeed, but notifying? + Come on, old man, without reply; + For to the great and common weal + It doth but little signify + Whether thy will shall ever feel + The impress of thy hand and seal.' + + And Death had reason,--ghastly sage! + For surely man, at such an age, + Should part from life as from a feast, + Returning decent thanks, at least, + To Him who spread the various cheer, + And unrepining take his bier; + For shun it long no creature can. + Repinest thou, grey-headed man? + See younger mortals rushing by + To meet their death without a sigh-- + Death full of triumph and of fame, + But in its terrors still the same.-- + But, ah! my words are thrown away! + Those most like Death most dread his sway. + +[1] Abstemius. + + + + +II.--THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER. + + A cobbler sang from morn till night; + 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, + His trills and quavers told the ear + Of more contentment and delight, + Enjoy'd by that laborious wight + Than e'er enjoy'd the sages seven, + Or any mortals short of heaven. + His neighbour, on the other hand, + With gold in plenty at command, + But little sang, and slumber'd less-- + A financier of great success. + If e'er he dozed, at break of day, + The cobbler's song drove sleep away; + And much he wish'd that Heaven had made + Sleep a commodity of trade, + In market sold, like food and drink, + So much an hour, so much a wink. + At last, our songster did he call + To meet him in his princely hall. + Said he, 'Now, honest Gregory, + What may your yearly earnings be?' + 'My yearly earnings! faith, good sir, + I never go, at once, so far,' + The cheerful cobbler said, + And queerly scratch'd his head,-- + 'I never reckon in that way, + But cobble on from day to day, + Content with daily bread.' + 'Indeed! Well, Gregory, pray, + What may your earnings be per day?' + 'Why, sometimes more and sometimes less. + The worst of all, I must confess, + (And but for which our gains would be + A pretty sight, indeed, to see,) + Is that the days are made so many + In which we cannot earn a penny-- + The sorest ill the poor man feels: + They tread upon each other's heels, + Those idle days of holy saints! + And though the year is shingled o'er, + The parson keeps a-finding more!'[2] + With smiles provoked by these complaints, + Replied the lordly financier, + 'I'll give you better cause to sing. + These hundred pounds I hand you here + Will make you happy as a king. + Go, spend them with a frugal heed; + They'll long supply your every need.' + The cobbler thought the silver more + Than he had ever dream'd before, + The mines for ages could produce, + Or world, with all its people, use. + He took it home, and there did hide-- + And with it laid his joy aside. + No more of song, no more of sleep, + But cares, suspicions in their stead, + And false alarms, by fancy fed. + His eyes and ears their vigils keep, + And not a cat can tread the floor + But seems a thief slipp'd through the door. + At last, poor man! + Up to the financier he ran,-- + Then in his morning nap profound: + 'O, give me back my songs,' cried he, + 'And sleep, that used so sweet to be, + And take the money, every pound!' + +[2] _The parson keeps a-finding more!_--Under the old regime of + France the parish priest of each church had usually every Sunday, at + sermon time, to announce more than one religious fast or feast for + the coming week, which the poor at least were expected to observe. + + + + +III.--THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX.[3] + + A lion, old, and impotent with gout, + Would have some cure for age found out. + Impossibilities, on all occasions, + With kings, are rank abominations. + This king, from every species,-- + For each abounds in every sort,-- + Call'd to his aid the leeches. + They came in throngs to court, + From doctors of the highest fee + To nostrum-quacks without degree,-- + Advised, prescribed, talk'd learnedly; + But with the rest + Came not Sir Cunning Fox, M.D. + Sir Wolf the royal couch attended, + And his suspicions there express'd. + Forthwith his majesty, offended, + Resolved Sir Cunning Fox should come, + And sent to smoke him from his home. + He came, was duly usher'd in, + And, knowing where Sir Wolf had been, + Said, 'Sire, your royal ear + Has been abused, I fear, + By rumours false and insincere; + To wit, that I've been self-exempt + From coming here, through sheer contempt. + But, sire, I've been on pilgrimage, + By vow expressly made, + Your royal health to aid, + And, on my way, met doctors sage, + In skill the wonder of the age, + Whom carefully I did consult + About that great debility + Term'd in the books senility, + Of which you fear, with reason, the result. + You lack, they say, the vital heat, + By age extreme become effete. + Drawn from a living wolf, the hide + Should warm and smoking be applied. + The secret's good, beyond a doubt, + For nature's weak, and wearing out. + Sir Wolf, here, won't refuse to give + His hide to cure you, as I live.' + The king was pleased with this advice. + Flay'd, jointed, served up in a trice, + Sir Wolf first wrapp'd the monarch up, + Then furnish'd him whereon to sup. + + Beware, ye courtiers, lest ye gain, + By slander's arts, less power than pain; + For in the world where ye are living, + A pardon no one thinks of giving. + +[3] Aesop; also Bidpaii, and Lokman. + + + + +IV.--THE POWER OF FABLES. + +To M. De Barillon.[4] + + Can diplomatic dignity + To simple fables condescend? + Can I your famed benignity + Invoke, my muse an ear to lend? + If once she dares a high intent, + Will you esteem her impudent? + Your cares are weightier, indeed, + Than listening to the sage debates + Of rabbit or of weasel states: + So, as it pleases, burn or read; + But save us from the woful harms + Of Europe roused in hostile arms. + That from a thousand other places + Our enemies should show their faces, + May well be granted with a smile, + But not that England's Isle + Our friendly kings should set + Their fatal blades to whet. + Comes not the time for Louis to repose? + What Hercules, against these hydra foes, + Would not grow weary? Must new heads oppose + His ever-waxing energy of blows? + Now, if your gentle, soul-persuasive powers, + As sweet as mighty in this world of ours, + Can soften hearts, and lull this war to sleep,[5] + I'll pile your altars with a hundred sheep; + And this is not a small affair + For a Parnassian mountaineer. + Meantime, (if you have time to spare,) + Accept a little incense-cheer. + A homely, but an ardent prayer, + And tale in verse, I give you here. + I'll only say, the theme is fit for you. + With praise, which envy must confess + To worth like yours is justly due, + No man on earth needs propping less. + + In Athens, once, that city fickle, + An orator,[6] awake to feel + His country in a dangerous pickle, + Would sway the proud republic's heart, + Discoursing of the common weal, + As taught by his tyrannic art. + The people listen'd--not a word. + Meanwhile the orator recurr'd + To bolder tropes--enough to rouse + The dullest blocks that e'er did drowse; + He clothed in life the very dead, + And thunder'd all that could be said. + The wind received his breath, + As to the ear of death. + That beast of many heads and light,[7] + The crowd, accustom'd to the sound + Was all intent upon a sight-- + A brace of lads in mimic fight. + A new resource the speaker found. + 'Ceres,' in lower tone said he, + 'Went forth her harvest fields to see: + An eel, as such a fish might he, + And swallow, were her company. + A river check'd the travellers three. + Two cross'd it soon without ado; + The smooth eel swam, the swallow flew.--' + Outcried the crowd + With voices loud-- + 'And Ceres--what did she?' + 'Why, what she pleased; but first + Yourselves she justly cursed-- + A people puzzling aye your brains + With children's tales and children's play, + While Greece puts on her steel array, + To save her limbs from, tyrant chains! + Why ask you not what Philip[8] does?' + At this reproach the idle buzz + Fell to the silence of the grave, + Or moonstruck sea without a wave, + And every eye and ear awoke + To drink the words the patriot spoke. + This feather stick in Fable's cap. + We're all Athenians, mayhap; + And I, for one, confess the sin; + For, while I write this moral here, + If one should tell that tale so queer + Ycleped, I think, "The Ass's Skin,"[9] + I should not mind my work a pin. + The world is old, they say; I don't deny it;-- + But, infant still + In taste and will, + Whoe'er would teach, must gratify it.[10] + +[4] _M. De Barillon._--Ambassador to the Court of St. + James.--Translator. M. De Barillon was a great friend of La Fontaine, + and also of other literary lights of the time. +[5] _And lull this war to sleep._--The parliament of England was + determined that, in case Louis XIV. did not make peace with the + allies, Charles II. should join them to make war on + France.--Translator. +[6] _An orator._--Demades.--Translator. +[7] _That beast of many heads._--Horace, speaking of the Roman + people, said, "Bellua multorum est capitum."--_Epist. I., Book + I._, 76.--Translator. +[8] _Philip._--Philip of Macedon, then at war with the Greeks. +[9] "The Ass's Skin,"--an old French nursery tale so called. +[10] La Fontaine's views on "the power of fables" are further given in + Fable I., Book II.; Fable I., Book III.; Fable I., Book V.; Fable + I., Book VI; the Introduction to Book VII., and Fable I., Book IX. + + + + +V.--THE MAN AND THE FLEA.[11] + + Impertinent, we tease and weary Heaven + With prayers which would insult mere mortals even. + 'Twould seem that not a god in all the skies + From our affairs must ever turn his eyes, + And that the smallest of our race + Could hardly eat, or wash his face, + Without, like Greece and Troy for ten years' space, + Embroiling all Olympus in the case. + + A flea some blockhead's shoulder bit, + And then his clothes refused to quit. + 'O Hercules,' he cried, 'you ought to purge + This world of this far worse than hydra scourge! + O Jupiter, what are your bolts about, + They do not put these foes of mine to rout?' + + To crush a flea, this fellow's fingers under, + The gods must lend the fool their club and thunder! + +[11] Aesop. + + + + +VI.--THE WOMEN AND THE SECRET.[12] + + There's nothing like a secret weighs; + Too heavy 'tis for women tender; + And, for this matter, in my days, + I've seen some men of female gender. + + To prove his wife, a husband cried, + (The night he knew the truth would hide,) + 'O Heavens! What's this? O dear--I beg-- + I'm torn--O! O! I've laid an egg!' + 'An egg?' 'Why, yes, it's gospel-true. + Look here--see--feel it, fresh and new; + But, wife, don't mention it, lest men + Should laugh at me, and call me hen: + Indeed, don't say a word about it.' + On this, as other matters, green and young, + The wife, all wonder, did not doubt it, + And pledged herself by Heaven to hold her tongue. + Her oath, however, fled the light + As quick as did the shades of night. + Before Dan Phoebus waked to labour + The dame was off to see a neighbour. + 'My friend,' she said, half-whispering. + 'There's come to pass the strangest thing-- + If you should tell, 'twould turn me out of door:-- + My husband's laid an egg as big as four! + As you would taste of heaven's bliss, + Don't tell a living soul of this.' + 'I tell! why if you knew a thing about me, + You wouldn't for an instant doubt me; + Your confidence I'll ne'er abuse.' + The layer's wife went home relieved; + The other broil'd to tell the news; + You need not ask if she believed. + A dame more busy could not be; + In twenty places, ere her tea, + Instead of one egg, she said three! + Nor was the story finish'd here: + A gossip, still more keen than she, + Said four, and spoke it in the ear-- + A caution truly little worth, + Applied to all the ears on earth. + Of eggs, the number, thanks to Fame, + As on from mouth to mouth she sped, + Had grown a hundred, soothly said, + Ere Sol had quench'd his golden flame! + +[12] Abstemius. + + + + +VII.--THE DOG THAT CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER. + + Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, + Nor hands against the touch of gold. + Fidelity is sadly rare, + And has been from the days of old. + Well taught his appetite to check, + And do full many a handy trick, + A dog was trotting, light and quick, + His master's dinner on his neck. + A temperate, self-denying dog was he, + More than, with such a load, he liked to be. + But still he was, while many such as we + Would not have scrupled to make free. + Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, + Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach! + This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, + A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. + To get it was less easy than he thought: + The porter laid it down and fought. + Meantime some other dogs arrive: + Such dogs are always thick enough, + And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, + Upon the public thrive. + Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd,-- + The meat in danger manifest,-- + Is fain to share it with the rest; + And, looking very calm and wise, + 'No anger, gentlemen,' he cries: + 'My morsel will myself suffice; + The rest shall be your welcome prize.' + With this, the first his charge to violate, + He snaps a mouthful from his freight. + Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, + Till all is cleanly eaten up. + Not sparingly the party feasted, + And not a dog of all but tasted. + + In some such manner men abuse + Of towns and states the revenues. + The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor, + Come in for each a liberal share. + The strongest gives the rest example: + 'Tis sport to see with what a zest + They sweep and lick the public chest + Of all its funds, however ample. + If any commonweal's defender + Should dare to say a single word, + He's shown his scruples are absurd, + And finds it easy to surrender-- + Perhaps, to be the first offender. + + + + +VIII.--THE JOKER AND THE FISHES.[13] + + Some seek for jokers; I avoid. + A joke must be, to be enjoy'd, + Of wisdom's words, by wit employ'd. + God never meant for men of sense, + The wits that joke to give offence. + + Perchance of these I shall be able + To show you one preserved in fable. + A joker at a banker's table, + Most amply spread to satisfy + The height of epicurean wishes, + Had nothing near but little fishes. + So, taking several of the fry, + He whisper'd to them very nigh, + And seem'd to listen for reply. + The guests much wonder'd what it meant, + And stared upon him all intent. + The joker, then with sober face, + Politely thus explain'd the case: + 'A friend of mine, to India bound, + Has been, I fear, + Within a year, + By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. + I ask'd these strangers from the sea + To tell me where my friend might be. + But all replied they were too young + To know the least of such a matter-- + The older fish could tell me better. + Pray, may I hear some older tongue?' + What relish had the gentlefolks + For such a sample of his jokes, + Is more than I can now relate. + They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, + A monster of so old a date, + He must have known the names and fate + Of all the daring voyagers, + Who, following the moon and stars, + Have, by mischances, sunk their bones, + Within the realms of Davy Jones; + And who, for centuries, had seen, + Far down, within the fathomless, + Where whales themselves are sceptreless, + The ancients in their halls of green. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE RAT AND THE OYSTER[14] + + A country rat, of little brains, + Grown weary of inglorious rest, + Left home with all its straws and grains, + Resolved to know beyond his nest. + When peeping through the nearest fence, + 'How big the world is, how immense!' + He cried; 'there rise the Alps, and that + Is doubtless famous Ararat.' + His mountains were the works of moles, + Or dirt thrown up in digging holes! + Some days of travel brought him where + The tide had left the oysters bare. + Since here our traveller saw the sea, + He thought these shells the ships must be. + 'My father was, in truth,' said he, + 'A coward, and an ignoramus; + He dared not travel: as for me, + I've seen the ships and ocean famous; + Have cross'd the deserts without drinking, + And many dangerous streams unshrinking; + Such things I know from having seen and felt them.' + And, as he went, in tales he proudly dealt them, + Not being of those rats whose knowledge + Comes by their teeth on books in college. + Among the shut-up shell-fish, one + Was gaping widely at the sun; + It breathed, and drank the air's perfume, + Expanding, like a flower in bloom. + Both white and fat, its meat + Appear'd a dainty treat. + Our rat, when he this shell espied, + Thought for his stomach to provide. + 'If not mistaken in the matter,' + Said he, 'no meat was ever fatter, + Or in its flavour half so fine, + As that on which to-day I dine.' + Thus full of hope, the foolish chap + Thrust in his head to taste, + And felt the pinching of a trap-- + The oyster closed in haste. + + We're first instructed, by this case, + That those to whom the world is new + Are wonder-struck at every view; + And, in the second place, + That the marauder finds his match, + And he is caught who thinks to catch. + +[14] Abstemius; also Aesop. + + + + +X.--THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER.[15] + + A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, + By fate confined within a lonely wood, + A new Bellerophon,[16] whose life, + Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife,-- + Became insane; for reason, as we term it, + Dwells never long with any hermit. + 'Tis good to mix in good society, + Obeying rules of due propriety; + And better yet to be alone; + But both are ills when overdone. + No animal had business where + All grimly dwelt our hermit bear; + Hence, bearish as he was, he grew + Heart-sick, and long'd for something new. + While he to sadness was addicted, + An aged man, not far from there, + Was by the same disease afflicted. + A garden was his favourite care,-- + Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, + And eke Pomona's--ripe and red + The presents that her fingers shed. + These two employments, true, are sweet + When made so by some friend discreet. + The gardens, gaily as they look, + Talk not, (except in this my book;) + So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, + Our man one morning left his home + Some company to seek, + That had the power to speak.-- + The bear, with thoughts the same, + Down from his mountain came; + And in a solitary place, + They met each other, face to face. + It would have made the boldest tremble; + What did our man? To play the Gascon + The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, + His fear contriving to dissemble. + The bear, unused to compliment, + Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, + 'Come home with me.' The man replied: + 'Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, + In yonder garden you may spy, + Where, if you'll honour me the while, + We'll break our fast in rural style. + I've fruits and milk,--unworthy fare, + It may be, for a wealthy bear; + But then I offer what I have.' + The bear accepts, with visage grave, + But not unpleased; and on their way, + They grow familiar, friendly, gay. + Arrived, you see them, side by side, + As if their friendship had been tried. + To a companion so absurd, + Blank solitude were well preferr'd, + Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, + The man was left quite at his leisure + To trim his garden at his pleasure. + Sir Bruin hunted--always brought + His friend whatever game he caught; + But chiefly aim'd at driving flies-- + Those hold and shameless parasites, + That vex us with their ceaseless bites-- + From off our gardener's face and eyes. + One day, while, stretch'd upon the ground + The old man lay, in sleep profound, + A fly that buzz'd around his nose,-- + And bit it sometimes, I suppose,-- + Put Bruin sadly to his trumps. + At last, determined, up he jumps; + 'I'll stop thy noisy buzzing now,' + Says he; 'I know precisely how.' + No sooner said than done. + He seized a paving-stone; + And by his modus operandi + Did both the fly and man die. + + A foolish friend may cause more woe + Than could, indeed, the wisest foe. + +[15] Bidpaii. +[16] _Bellerophon_.--The son of King Glaucus, who, after a wandering + life, died a prey to melancholy. + + + + +XI.--THE TWO FRIENDS.[17] + + Two friends, in Monomotapa, + Had all their interests combined. + Their friendship, faithful and refined, + Our country can't exceed, do what it may. + One night, when potent Sleep had laid + All still within our planet's shade, + One of the two gets up alarm'd, + Runs over to the other's palace, + And hastily the servants rallies. + His startled friend, quick arm'd, + With purse and sword his comrade meets, + And thus right kindly greets:-- + 'Thou seldom com'st at such an hour; + I take thee for a man of sounder mind + Than to abuse the time for sleep design'd. + Hast lost thy purse, by Fortune's power? + Here's mine. Hast suffer'd insult, or a blow, + I've here my sword--to avenge it let us go.' + 'No,' said his friend, 'no need I feel + Of either silver, gold, or steel; + I thank thee for thy friendly zeal. + In sleep I saw thee rather sad, + And thought the truth might be as bad. + Unable to endure the fear, + That cursed dream has brought me here.' + + Which think you, reader, loved the most! + If doubtful this, one truth may be proposed: + There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: + Not only is he prompt to lend-- + An angler delicate, he fishes + The very deepest of your wishes, + And spares your modesty the task + His friendly aid to ask. + A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, + When pointing at the object dear.[18] + +[17] Bidpaii. +[18] This fable is thought to have been inspired by the friendship of La + Fontaine for Fouquet, the minister whom Louis XIV., actuated mostly + by jealousy and envy, disgraced and imprisoned. See the Translator's + Preface. + + + + +XII.--THE HOG, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP.[19] + + A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, + All to the market rode together. + Their own amusement was not that + Which caused their journey thither. + Their coachman did not mean to 'set them down' + To see the shows and wonders of the town. + The porker cried, in piercing squeals, + As if with butchers at his heels. + The other beasts, of milder mood, + The cause by no means understood. + They saw no harm, and wonder'd why + At such a rate the hog should cry. + 'Hush there, old piggy!' said the man, + 'And keep as quiet as you can. + What wrong have you to squeal about, + And raise this dev'lish, deaf'ning shout? + These stiller persons at your side + Have manners much more dignified. + Pray, have you heard + A single word + Come from that gentleman in wool? + That proves him wise.' 'That proves him fool!' + The testy hog replied; + 'For did he know + To what we go, + He'd cry almost to split his throat; + So would her ladyship the goat. + They only think to lose with ease, + The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece: + They're, maybe, right; but as for me, + This ride is quite another matter. + Of service only on the platter, + My death is quite a certainty. + Adieu, my dear old piggery!' + The porker's logic proved at once + Himself a prophet and a dunce. + + Hope ever gives a present ease, + But fear beforehand kills: + The wisest he who least foresees + Inevitable ills. + +[19] Aesop. + + + + +XIII.--THYRSIS AND AMARANTH. + +For Mademoiselle De Sillery.[20] + + I had the Phrygian quit, + Charm'd with Italian wit;[21] + But a divinity + Would on Parnassus see + A fable more from me. + Such challenge to refuse, + Without a good excuse, + Is not the way to use + Divinity or muse. + Especially to one + Of those who truly are, + By force of being fair, + Made queens of human will. + A thing should not be done + In all respects so ill. + For, be it known to all, + From Sillery the call + Has come for bird, and beast, + And insects, to the least; + To clothe their thoughts sublime + In this my simple rhyme. + In saying Sillery, + All's said that need to be. + Her claim to it so good, + Few fail to give her place + Above the human race: + How could they, if they would? + + Now come we to our end:-- + As she opines my tales + Are hard to comprehend-- + For even genius fails + Some things to understand-- + So let us take in hand + To make unnecessary, + For once, a commentary. + Come shepherds now,--and rhyme we afterwards + The talk between the wolves and fleecy herds. + + To Amaranth, the young and fair, + Said Thyrsis, once, with serious air,-- + 'O, if you knew, like me, a certain ill, + With which we men are harm'd, + As well as strangely charm'd, + No boon from Heaven your heart could like it fill! + Please let me name it in your ear,-- + A harmless word,--you need not fear. + Would I deceive you, you, for whom I bear + The tenderest sentiments that ever were?' + Then Amaranth replied, + 'What is its name? I beg you, do not hide' + ''Tis LOVE.'--' The word is beautiful! reveal + Its signs and symptoms, how it makes one feel.'-- + 'Its pains are ecstacies. So sweet its stings, + The nectar-cups and incense-pots of kings, + Compared, are flat, insipid things. + One strays all lonely in the wood-- + Leans silent o'er the placid flood, + And there with great complacency, + A certain face can see-- + 'Tis not one's own--but image fair, + Retreating, + Fleeting, + Meeting, + Greeting, + Following everywhere. + For all the rest of human kind, + One is as good, in short, as blind. + There is a shepherd wight, I ween, + Well known upon the village green, + Whose voice, whose name, whose turning of the hinge + Excites upon the cheek a richer tinge-- + The thought of whom is signal for a sigh-- + The breast that heaves it knows not why-- + Whose face the maiden fears to see, + Yet none so welcome still as he.'-- + Here Amaranth cut short his speech: + 'O! O! is that the evil which you preach? + To me I think it is no stranger; + I must have felt its power and danger.' + Here Thrysis thought his end was gain'd, + When further thus the maid explain'd: + ''Tis just the very sentiment + Which I have felt for Clidamant!' + The other, vex'd and mortified, + Now bit his lips, and nearly died. + + Like him are multitudes, who when + Their own advancement they have meant, + Have play'd the game of other men. + +[20] _Mdlle. de Sillery_.--Gabrielle-Françoise Brulart de Sillery, + niece of La Fontaine's friend and patron, the Duke de La + Rochefoucauld (author of the _Maximes_). She married Louis de + Tibergeau, Marquis de La Motte-au-Maine, and died in 1732. +[21] _Italian wit_.--Referring to his Tales, in which he had + borrowed many subjects from Boccaccio.--Translator. + + + + +XIV.--THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS.[22] + + The lion's consort died: + Crowds, gather'd at his side, + Must needs console the prince, + And thus their loyalty evince + By compliments of course; + Which make affliction worse. + Officially he cites + His realm to funeral rites, + At such a time and place; + His marshals of the mace + Would order the affair. + Judge you if all came there. + Meantime, the prince gave way + To sorrow night and day. + With cries of wild lament + His cave he well-nigh rent. + And from his courtiers far and near, + Sounds imitative you might hear. + + The court a country seems to me, + Whose people are, no matter what,-- + Sad, gay, indifferent, or not,-- + As suits the will of majesty; + Or, if unable so to be, + Their task it is to seem it all-- + Chameleons, monkeys, great and small. + 'Twould seem one spirit serves a thousand bodies-- + A paradise, indeed, for soulless noddies. + + But to our tale again: + The stag graced not the funeral train; + Of tears his cheeks bore not a stain; + For how could such a thing have been, + When death avenged him on the queen, + Who, not content with taking one, + Had choked to death his wife and son? + The tears, in truth, refused to run. + A flatterer, who watch'd the while, + Affirm'd that he had seen him smile. + If, as the wise man somewhere saith, + A king's is like a lion's wrath, + What should King Lion's be but death? + The stag, however, could not read; + Hence paid this proverb little heed, + And walk'd, intrepid, to'ards the throne; + When thus the king, in fearful tone: + 'Thou caitiff of the wood! + Presum'st to laugh at such a time? + Joins not thy voice the mournful chime? + We suffer not the blood + Of such a wretch profane + Our sacred claws to stain. + Wolves, let a sacrifice be made, + Avenge your mistress' awful shade.' + 'Sire,' did the stag reply, + The time for tears is quite gone by; + For in the flowers, not far from here, + Your worthy consort did appear; + Her form, in spite of my surprise, + I could not fail to recognise. + "My friend," said she, "beware + Lest funeral pomp about my bier, + When I shall go with gods to share, + Compel thine eye to drop a tear. + With kindred saints I rove + In the Elysian grove, + And taste a sort of bliss + Unknown in worlds like this. + Still, let the royal sorrow flow + Its proper season here below; + 'Tis not unpleasing, I confess."' + The king and court scarce hear him out. + Up goes the loud and welcome shout-- + 'A miracle! an apotheosis!' + And such at once the fashion is, + So far from dying in a ditch, + The stag retires with presents rich. + + Amuse the ear of royalty + With pleasant dreams, and flattery,-- + No matter what you may have done, + Nor yet how high its wrath may run,-- + The bait is swallow'd--object won. + +[22] Abstemius. + + + + +XV.--THE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT. + + One's own importance to enhance, + Inspirited by self-esteem, + Is quite a common thing in France; + A French disease it well might seem. + The strutting cavaliers of Spain + Are in another manner vain. + Their pride has more insanity; + More silliness our vanity. + Let's shadow forth our own disease-- + Well worth a hundred tales like these. + + A rat, of quite the smallest size, + Fix'd on an elephant his eyes, + And jeer'd the beast of high descent + Because his feet so slowly went. + Upon his back, three stories high, + There sat, beneath a canopy, + A certain sultan of renown, + His dog, and cat, and concubine, + His parrot, servant, and his wine, + All pilgrims to a distant town. + The rat profess'd to be amazed + That all the people stood and gazed + With wonder, as he pass'd the road, + Both at the creature and his load. + 'As if,' said he, 'to occupy + A little more of land or sky + Made one, in view of common sense, + Of greater worth and consequence! + What see ye, men, in this parade, + That food for wonder need be made? + The bulk which makes a child afraid? + In truth, I take myself to be, + In all aspects, as good as he.' + And further might have gone his vaunt; + But, darting down, the cat + Convinced him that a rat + Is smaller than an elephant. + + + + +XVI.--THE HOROSCOPE. + + On death we mortals often run, + Just by the roads we take to shun. + + A father's only heir, a son, + Was over-loved, and doted on + So greatly, that astrology + Was question'd what his fate might be. + The man of stars this caution gave-- + That, until twenty years of age, + No lion, even in a cage, + The boy should see,--his life to save. + The sire, to silence every fear + About a life so very dear, + Forbade that any one should let + His son beyond his threshold get. + Within his palace walls, the boy + Might all that heart could wish enjoy-- + Might with his mates walk, leap, and run, + And frolic in the wildest fun. + When come of age to love the chase, + That exercise was oft depicted + To him as one that brought disgrace, + To which but blackguards were addicted. + But neither warning nor derision + Could change his ardent disposition. + The youth, fierce, restless, full of blood, + Was prompted by the boiling flood + To love the dangers of the wood. + The more opposed, the stronger grew + His mad desire. The cause he knew, + For which he was so closely pent; + And as, where'er he went, + In that magnificent abode, + Both tapestry and canvas show'd + The feats he did so much admire, + A painted lion roused his ire. + 'Ah, monster!' cried he, in his rage, + 'Tis you that keep me in my cage.' + With that, he clinch'd his fist, + To strike the harmless beast-- + And did his hand impale + Upon a hidden nail! + And thus this cherish'd head, + For which the healing art + But vainly did its part, + Was hurried to the dead, + By caution blindly meant + To shun that sad event. + + The poet Aeschylus, 'tis said, + By much the same precaution bled. + A conjuror foretold + A house would crush him in its fall;-- + Forth sallied he, though old, + From town and roof-protected hall, + And took his lodgings, wet or dry, + Abroad, beneath the open sky. + An eagle, bearing through the air + A tortoise for her household fare, + Which first she wish'd to break, + The creature dropp'd, by sad mistake, + Plump on the poet's forehead bare, + As if it were a naked rock-- + To Aeschylus a fatal shock! + + From these examples, it appears, + This art, if true in any wise, + Makes men fulfil the very fears + Engender'd by its prophecies. + But from this charge I justify, + By branding it a total lie. + I don't believe that Nature's powers + Have tied her hands or pinion'd ours, + By marking on the heavenly vault + Our fate without mistake or fault. + That fate depends upon conjunctions + Of places, persons, times, and tracks, + And not upon the functions + Of more or less of quacks. + A king and clown beneath one planet's nod + Are born; one wields a sceptre, one a hod. + But it is Jupiter that wills it so! + And who is he?[23] A soulless clod. + How can he cause such different powers to flow + Upon the aforesaid mortals here below? + And how, indeed, to this far distant ball + Can he impart his energy at all?-- + How pierce the ether deeps profound, + The sun and globes that whirl around? + A mote might turn his potent ray + For ever from its earthward way. + Will find, it, then, in starry cope, + The makers of the horoscope? + The war[24] with which all Europe's now afflicted-- + Deserves it not by them to've been predicted? + Yet heard we not a whisper of it, + Before it came, from any prophet. + The suddenness of passion's gush, + Of wayward life the headlong rush,-- + Permit they that the feeble ray + Of twinkling planet, far away, + Should trace our winding, zigzag course? + And yet this planetary force, + As steady as it is unknown, + These fools would make our guide alone-- + Of all our varied life the source! + Such doubtful facts as I relate-- + The petted child's and poet's fate-- + Our argument may well admit. + The blindest man that lives in France, + The smallest mark would doubtless hit-- + Once in a thousand times--by chance. + +[23] _And who is he_?--By Jupiter, "the soulless clod," is of course + meant the planet, not the god. +[24] _The war_.--See note to Fable XVIII., Book VII. + + + + +XVII.--THE ASS AND THE DOG.[25] + + Dame Nature, our respected mother, + Ordains that we should aid each other. + + The ass this ordinance neglected, + Though not a creature ill-affected. + Along the road a dog and he + One master follow'd silently. + Their master slept: meanwhile, the ass + Applied his nippers to the grass, + Much pleased in such a place to stop, + Though there no thistle he could crop. + He would not be too delicate, + Nor spoil a dinner for a plate, + Which, but for that, his favourite dish, + Were all that any ass could wish. + + 'My dear companion,' Towser said,-- + ''Tis as a starving dog I ask it,-- + Pray lower down your loaded basket, + And let me get a piece of bread.' + No answer--not a word!--indeed, + The truth was, our Arcadian steed[26] + Fear'd lest, for every moment's flight, + His nimble teeth should lose a bite. + At last, 'I counsel you,' said he, 'to wait + Till master is himself awake, + Who then, unless I much mistake, + Will give his dog the usual bait.' + Meanwhile, there issued from the wood + A creature of the wolfish brood, + Himself by famine sorely pinch'd. + At sight of him the donkey flinch'd, + And begg'd the dog to give him aid. + The dog budged not, but answer made,-- + 'I counsel thee, my friend, to run, + Till master's nap is fairly done; + There can, indeed, be no mistake, + That he will very soon awake; + Till then, scud off with all your might; + And should he snap you in your flight, + This ugly wolf,--why, let him feel + The greeting of your well-shod heel. + I do not doubt, at all, but that + Will be enough to lay him flat.' + But ere he ceased it was too late; + The ass had met his cruel fate. + + Thus selfishness we reprobate. + +[25] Abstemius. +[26] _Arcadian steed_.--La Fontaine has "roussin d'Arcadie." The ass + was so derisively nicknamed. See also Fable XIX., Book VI. + + + + +XVIII.--THE PASHAW AND THE MERCHANT.[27] + + A trading Greek, for want of law, + Protection bought of a pashaw; + And like a nobleman he paid, + Much rather than a man of trade-- + Protection being, Turkish-wise, + A costly sort of merchandise. + So costly was it, in this case, + The Greek complain'd, with tongue and face. + Three other Turks, of lower rank, + Would guard his substance as their own, + And all draw less upon his bank, + Than did the great pashaw alone. + The Greek their offer gladly heard, + And closed the bargain with a word. + The said pashaw was made aware, + And counsel'd, with a prudent care + These rivals to anticipate, + By sending them to heaven's gate, + As messengers to Mahomet-- + Which measure should he much delay, + Himself might go the self-same way, + By poison offer'd secretly, + Sent on, before his time, to be + Protector to such arts and trades + As flourish in the world of shades. + On this advice, the Turk--no gander-- + Behaved himself like Alexander.[28] + Straight to the merchant's, firm and stable, + He went, and took a seat at table. + Such calm assurance there was seen, + Both in his words and in his mien, + That e'en that weasel-sighted Grecian + Could not suspect him of suspicion. + 'My friend,' said he, 'I know you've quit me, + And some think caution would befit me, + Lest to despatch me be your plan: + But, deeming you too good a man + To injure either friends or foes + With poison'd cups or secret blows, + I drown the thought, and say no more. + But, as regards the three or four + Who take my place, + I crave your grace + To listen to an apologue. + + 'A shepherd, with a single dog, + Was ask'd the reason why + He kept a dog, whose least supply + Amounted to a loaf of bread + For every day. The people said + He'd better give the animal + To guard the village seignior's hall; + For him, a shepherd, it would be + A thriftier economy + To keep small curs, say two or three, + That would not cost him half the food, + And yet for watching be as good. + The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell + If they would fight the wolf as well. + The silly shepherd, giving heed, + Cast off his dog of mastiff breed, + And took three dogs to watch his cattle, + Which ate far less, but fled in battle. + His flock such counsel lived to rue, + As doubtlessly, my friend, will you. + If wise, my aid again you'll seek--' + And so, persuaded, did the Greek. + + Not vain our tale, if it convinces + Small states that 'tis a wiser thing + To trust a single powerful king, + Than half a dozen petty princes. + +[27] Gilbert Cousin. +[28] _Alexander_.--Who took the medicine presented to him by his + physician Philip, the moment after he had received a letter + announcing that that very man designed to poison him.--Arrian, L. + II. Chap. XIV.--Translator. + + + + +XIX.--THE USE OF KNOWLEDGE.[29] + + Between two citizens + A controversy grew. + The one was poor, but much he knew: + The other, rich, with little sense, + Claim'd that, in point of excellence, + The merely wise should bow the knee + To all such money'd men as he. + The merely fools, he should have said; + For why should wealth hold up its head, + When merit from its side hath fled? + 'My friend,' quoth Bloated-purse, + To his reverse, + 'You think yourself considerable. + Pray, tell me, do you keep a table? + What comes of this incessant reading, + In point of lodging, clothing, feeding? + It gives one, true, the highest chamber, + One coat for June and for December, + His shadow for his sole attendant, + And hunger always in th' ascendant. + What profits he his country, too, + Who scarcely ever spends a sou-- + Will, haply, be a public charge? + Who profits more the state at large, + Than he whose luxuries dispense + Among the people wealth immense? + We set the streams of life a-flowing; + We set all sorts of trades a-going. + The spinner, weaver, sewer, vender, + And many a wearer, fair and tender, + All live and flourish on the spender-- + As do, indeed, the reverend rooks + Who waste their time in making books.' + These words, so full of impudence, + Received their proper recompense. + The man of letters held his peace, + Though much he might have said with ease. + A war avenged him soon and well; + In it their common city fell. + Both fled abroad; the ignorant, + By fortune thus brought down to want, + Was treated everywhere with scorn, + And roamed about, a wretch forlorn; + Whereas the scholar, everywhere, + Was nourish'd by the public care. + + Let fools the studious despise; + There's nothing lost by being wise. + +[29] Abstemius. + + + + +XX.--JUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS. + + Said Jupiter, one day, + As on a cloud he lay, + 'Observing all our crimes, + Come, let us change the times, + By leasing out anew + A world whose wicked crew + Have wearied out our grace, + And cursed us to our face. + Hie hellward, Mercury; + A Fury bring to me, + The direst of the three. + Race nursed too tenderly, + This day your doom shall be!' + E'en while he spoke their fate, + His wrath began to moderate. + + O kings, with whom His will + Hath lodged our good and ill, + Your wrath and storm between + One night should intervene! + + The god of rapid wing, + And lip unfaltering, + To sunless regions sped, + And met the sisters dread. + To grim Tisiphone, + And pale Megaera, he + Preferr'd, as murderess, + Alecto, pitiless. + This choice so roused the fiend, + By Pluto's beard she swore + The human race no more + Should be by handfuls glean'd, + But in one solid mass + Th' infernal gates should pass. + But Jove, displeased with both + The Fury and her oath, + Despatched her back to hell. + And then a bolt he hurl'd, + Down on a faithless world, + Which in a desert fell. + Aim'd by a father's arm, + It caused more fear than harm. + (All fathers strike aside.) + What did from this betide? + Our evil race grew bold, + Resumed their wicked tricks, + Increased them manifold, + Till, all Olympus through, + Indignant murmurs flew. + When, swearing by the Styx, + The sire that rules the air + Storms promised to prepare + More terrible and dark, + Which should not miss their mark. + 'A father's wrath it is!' + The other deities + All in one voice exclaim'd; + 'And, might the thing be named, + Some other god would make + Bolts better for our sake.' + This Vulcan undertook. + His rumbling forges shook, + And glow'd with fervent heat, + While Cyclops blew and beat. + Forth, from the plastic flame + Two sorts of bolts there came. + Of these, one misses not: + 'Tis by Olympus shot,-- + That is, the gods at large. + The other, bearing wide, + Hits mountain-top or side, + Or makes a cloud its targe. + And this it is alone + Which leaves the father's throne. + + + + +XXI.--THE FALCON AND THE CAPON.[30] + + You often hear a sweet seductive call: + If wise, you haste towards it not at all;-- + And, if you heed my apologue, + You act like John de Nivelle's dog.[31] + + A capon, citizen of Mans, + Was summon'd from a throng + To answer to the village squire, + Before tribunal call'd the fire. + The matter to disguise + The kitchen sheriff wise + Cried, 'Biddy--Biddy--Biddy!--' + But not a moment did he-- + This Norman and a half[32]-- + The smooth official trust. + 'Your bait,' said he, 'is dust, + And I'm too old for chaff.' + Meantime, a falcon, on his perch, + Observed the flight and search. + In man, by instinct or experience, + The capons have so little confidence, + That this was not without much trouble caught, + Though for a splendid supper sought. + To lie, the morrow night, + In brilliant candle-light, + Supinely on a dish + 'Midst viands, fowl, and fish, + With all the ease that heart could wish-- + This honour, from his master kind, + The fowl would gladly have declined. + Outcried the bird of chase, + As in the weeds he eyed the skulker's face, + 'Why, what a stupid, blockhead race!-- + Such witless, brainless fools + Might well defy the schools. + For me, I understand + To chase at word + The swiftest bird, + Aloft, o'er sea or land; + At slightest beck, + Returning quick + To perch upon my master's hand. + There, at his window he appears-- + He waits thee--hasten--hast no ears?' + 'Ah! that I have,' the fowl replied; + 'But what from master might betide? + Or cook, with cleaver at his side? + Return you may for such a call, + But let me fly their fatal hall; + And spare your mirth at my expense: + Whate'er I lack, 'tis not the sense + To know that all this sweet-toned breath + Is spent to lure me to my death. + If you had seen upon the spit + As many of the falcons roast + As I have of the capon host, + You would, not thus reproach my wit.' + +[30] In the Bidpaii Fables it is "The Falcon and the Cock." +[31] _John de Nivelle's dog_.--A dog which, according to the French + proverb, ran away when his master called him.--Translator. +[32] _This Norman and a half_.--Though the Normans are proverbial + for their shrewdness, the French have, nevertheless, a proverb that + they come to Paris to be hanged. Hence La Fontaine makes his capon, + who knew how to shun a similar fate, _le Normand et demi_--the + Norman and a half.--Translator. + + + + +XXII.--THE CAT AND THE RAT.[33] + + Four creatures, wont to prowl,-- + Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the cat, + Grave Evil-bode, the owl, + Thief Nibble-stitch, the rat, + And Madam Weasel, prim and fine,-- + Inhabited a rotten pine. + A man their home discover'd there, + And set, one night, a cunning snare. + The cat, a noted early-riser, + Went forth, at break of day, + To hunt her usual prey. + Not much the wiser + For morning's feeble ray, + The noose did suddenly surprise her. + Waked by her strangling cry, + Grey Nibble-stitch drew nigh: + As full of joy was he + As of despair was she, + For in the noose he saw + His foe of mortal paw. + 'Dear friend,' said Mrs. Grab-and-Snatch, + 'Do, pray, this cursed cord detach. + I've always known your skill, + And often your good-will; + Now help me from this worst of snares, + In which I fell at unawares. + 'Tis by a sacred right, + You, sole of all your race, + By special love and grace, + Have been my favourite-- + The darling of my eyes. + 'Twas order'd by celestial cares, + No doubt; I thank the blessed skies, + That, going out to say my prayers, + As cats devout each morning do, + This net has made me pray to you. + Come, fall to work upon the cord.' + Replied the rat, 'And what reward + Shall pay me, if I dare?' + 'Why,' said the cat, 'I swear + To be your firm ally: + Henceforth, eternally, + These powerful claws are yours, + Which safe your life insures. + I'll guard from quadruped and fowl; + I'll eat the weasel and the owl.' + 'Ah,' cried the rat, 'you fool! + I'm quite too wise to be your tool.' + He said, and sought his snug retreat, + Close at the rotten pine-tree's feet. + Where plump he did the weasel meet; + Whom shunning by a happy dodge, + He climb'd the hollow trunk to lodge; + And there the savage owl he saw. + Necessity became his law, + And down he went, the rope to gnaw. + Strand after strand in two he bit, + And freed, at last, the hypocrite. + That moment came the man in sight; + The new allies took hasty flight. + + A good while after that, + Our liberated cat + Espied her favourite rat, + Quite out of reach, and on his guard. + 'My friend,' said she, 'I take your shyness hard; + Your caution wrongs my gratitude; + Approach, and greet your staunch ally. + Do you suppose, dear rat, that I + Forget the solemn oath I mew'd?' + 'Do I forget,' the rat replied, + 'To what your nature is allied? + To thankfulness, or even pity, + Can cats be ever bound by treaty?' + + Alliance from necessity + Is safe just while it has to be. + +[33] Another rendering of "The Rat and the Cat" of the Bidpaii + collection. See Fable XVI., Book VII. + + + + +XXIII.--THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER.[34] + + With mighty rush and roar, + Adown a mountain steep + A torrent tumbled,--swelling o'er + Its rugged banks,--and bore + Vast ruin in its sweep. + The traveller were surely rash + To brave its whirling, foaming dash, + But one, by robbers sorely press'd, + Its terrors haply put to test. + They were but threats of foam and sound, + The loudest where the least profound. + With courage from his safe success, + His foes continuing to press, + He met a river in his course: + On stole its waters, calm and deep, + So silently they seem'd asleep, + All sweetly cradled, as I ween, + In sloping banks, and gravel clean,-- + They threaten'd neither man nor horse. + Both ventured; but the noble steed, + That saved from robbers by his speed, + From that deep water could not save; + Both went to drink the Stygian wave; + Both went to cross, (but not to swim,) + Where reigns a monarch stern and grim, + Far other streams than ours. + + Still men are men of dangerous powers; + Elsewhere, 'tis only ignorance that cowers. + +[34] Abstemius. + + + + +XXIV.--EDUCATION. + + Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended + From dogs by Fame the most commended, + Who falling, in their puppyhood, + To different masters anciently, + One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood; + From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. + At first, each had another name; + But, by their bringing up, it came, + While one improved upon his nature, + The other grew a sordid creature, + Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, + The name ungracious ever stuck. + To high exploits his brother grew, + Put many a stag at bay, and tore + Full many a trophy from the boar; + In short, him first, of all his crew, + The world as Caesar knew; + And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, + His noble blood should e'er degenerate. + Not so with his neglected brother; + He made whatever came a mother; + And, by the laws of population, + His race became a countless nation-- + The common turnspits throughout France-- + Where danger is, they don't advance-- + Precisely the antipodes + Of what we call the Caesars, these! + + Oft falls the son below his sire's estate: + Through want of care all things degenerate. + For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts. + What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts! + + + + +XXV.--THE TWO DOGS AND THE DEAD ASS.[35] + + The Virtues should be sisters, hand in hand, + Since banded brothers all the Vices stand: + When one of these our hearts attacks, + All come in file; there only lacks, + From out the cluster, here and there, + A mate of some antagonizing pair, + That can't agree the common roof to share. + But all the Virtues, as a sisterhood, + Have scarcely ever in one subject stood. + We find one brave, but passionate; + Another prudent, but ingrate. + Of beasts, the dog may claim to be + The pattern of fidelity; + But, for our teaching little wiser, + He's both a fool and gormandiser. + For proof, I cite two mastiffs, that espied + A dead ass floating on a water wide. + The distance growing more and more, + Because the wind the carcass bore,-- + 'My friend,' said one, 'your eyes are best; + Pray let them on the water rest: + What thing is that I seem to see? + An ox, or horse? what can it be?' + 'Hey!' cried his mate; 'what matter which, + Provided we could get a flitch? + It doubtless is our lawful prey: + The puzzle is to find some way + To get the prize; for wide the space + To swim, with wind against your face.[36] + Let's drink the flood; our thirsty throats + Will gain the end as well as boats. + The water swallow'd, by and bye + We'll have the carcass, high and dry-- + Enough to last a week, at least.' + Both drank as some do at a feast; + Their breath was quench'd before their thirst, + And presently the creatures burst! + + And such is man. Whatever he + May set his soul to do or be, + To him is possibility? + How many vows he makes! + How many steps he takes! + How does he strive, and pant, and strain, + Fortune's or Glory's prize to gain! + If round my farm off well I must, + Or fill my coffers with the dust, + Or master Hebrew, science, history,-- + I make my task to drink the sea. + One spirit's projects to fulfil, + Four bodies would require; and still + The work would stop half done; + The lives of four Methuselahs, + Placed end to end for use, alas! + Would not suffice the wants of one. + +[35] Aesop; also Lokman. +[36] _With the wind against your face_.--Did La Fontaine, to enhance + the folly of these dogs, make them bad judges of the course of the + wind, or did he forget what he had said a few lines + above?--Translator. + + + +XXVI.--DEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OF ABDERA. + + How do I hate the tide of vulgar thought! + Profane, unjust, with childish folly fraught; + It breaks and bends the rays of truth divine, + And by its own conceptions measures mine. + Famed Epicurus' master[37] tried + The power of this unstable tide. + His country said the sage was mad-- + The simpletons! But why? + No prophet ever honour had + Beneath his native sky. + Democritus, in truth, was wise; + The mass were mad, with faith in lies. + So far this error went, + That all Abdera sent + To old Hippocrates + To cure the sad disease. + 'Our townsman,' said the messengers, + Appropriately shedding tears, + 'Hath lost his wits! Democritus, + By study spoil'd, is lost to us. + Were he but fill'd with ignorance, + We should esteem him less a dunce. + He saith that worlds like this exist, + An absolutely endless list,-- + And peopled, even, it may be, + With countless hosts as wise as we! + But, not contented with such dreams, + His brain with viewless "atoms" teems, + Instinct with deathless life, it seems. + And, never stirring from the sod below, + He weighs and measures all the stars; + And, while he knows the universe, + Himself he doth not know. + Though now his lips he strictly bars, + He once delighted to converse. + Come, godlike mortal, try thy art divine + Where traits of worst insanity combine!' + Small faith the great physician lent, + But still, perhaps more readily, he went. + And mark what meetings strange + Chance causes in this world of change! + Hippocrates arrived in season, + Just as his patient (void of reason!) + Was searching whether reason's home, + In talking animals and dumb, + Be in the head, or in the heart, + Or in some other local part. + All calmly seated in the shade, + Where brooks their softest music made, + He traced, with study most insane, + The convolutions of a brain; + And at his feet lay many a scroll-- + The works of sages on the soul. + Indeed, so much absorb'd was he, + His friend, at first, he did not see. + A pair so admirably match'd, + Their compliments erelong despatch'd. + In time and talk, as well as dress, + The wise are frugal, I confess. + Dismissing trifles, they began + At once with eagerness to scan + The life, and soul, and laws of man; + Nor stopp'd till they had travell'd o'er all + The ground, from, physical to moral. + My time and space would fail + To give the full detail. + + But I have said enough to show + How little 'tis the people know. + How true, then, goes the saw abroad-- + Their voice is but the voice of God? + +[37] _Epicurus' master_.--Democritus and Epicurus lived about a + century apart. The latter was disciple to the former only because in + early life he adopted some of Democritus's philosophy. Later + Epicurus rejected more than he accepted of what his "master" taught. + + + + +XXVII.--THE WOLF AND THE HUNTER.[38] + + Thou lust of gain,--foul fiend, whose evil eyes + Regard as nought the blessings of the skies, + Must I for ever battle thee in vain? + How long demandest thou to gain + The meaning of my lessons plain? + Will constant getting never cloy? + Will man ne'er slacken to enjoy? + Haste, friend; thou hast not long to live: + Let me the precious word repeat, + And listen to it, I entreat; + A richer lesson none can give-- + The sovereign antidote for sorrow-- + ENJOY!--'I will.'--But when?--'To-morrow.--' + Ah! death may take you on the way, + Why not enjoy, I ask, to-day? + Lest envious fate your hopes ingulf, + As once it served the hunter and the wolf. + + The former, with his fatal bow, + A noble deer had laid full low: + A fawn approach'd, and quickly lay + Companion of the dead, + For side by side they bled. + Could one have wished a richer prey? + Such luck had been enough to sate + A hunter wise and moderate. + Meantime a boar, as big as e'er was taken, + Our archer tempted, proud, and fond of bacon. + Another candidate for Styx, + Struck by his arrow, foams and kicks. + But strangely do the shears of Fate + To cut his cable hesitate. + Alive, yet dying, there he lies, + A glorious and a dangerous prize. + And was not this enough? Not quite, + To fill a conqueror's appetite; + For, ere the boar was dead, he spied + A partridge by a furrow's side-- + A trifle to his other game. + Once more his bow he drew; + The desperate boar upon him came, + And in his dying vengeance slew: + The partridge thank'd him as she flew. + + Thus much is to the covetous address'd; + The miserly shall have the rest. + + A wolf, in passing, saw that woeful sight. + 'O Fortune,' cried the savage, with delight, + 'A fane to thee I'll build outright! + 'Four carcasses! how rich! But spare-- + 'I'll make them last--such luck is rare,' + (The miser's everlasting plea.) + 'They'll last a month for--let me see-- + One, two, three, four--the weeks are four + If I can count--and some days more. + Well, two days hence + And I'll commence. + Meantime, the string upon this bow + I'll stint myself to eat; + For by its mutton-smell I know + 'Tis made of entrails sweet.' + His entrails rued the fatal weapon, + Which, while he heedlessly did step on, + The arrow pierced his bowels deep, + And laid him lifeless on the heap. + + Hark, stingy souls! insatiate leeches! + Our text this solemn duty teaches,-- + Enjoy the present; do not wait + To share the wolf's or hunter's fate. + +[38] Bidpaii; and the _Hitopadesa_. See extract from Sir William + Jones's translation of the latter in Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK IX. + + +I.--THE FAITHLESS DEPOSITARY.[1] + + Thanks to Memory's daughters nine, + Animals have graced my line: + Higher heroes in my story + Might have won me less of glory. + Wolves, in language of the sky, + Talk with dogs throughout my verse; + Beasts with others shrewdly vie, + Representing characters; + Fools in furs not second-hand, + Sages, hoof'd or feather'd, stand: + Fewer truly are the latter, + More the former--ay, and fatter. + Flourish also in my scene + Tyrants, villains, mountebanks, + Beasts incapable of thanks, + Beasts of rash and reckless pranks, + Beasts of sly and flattering mien; + Troops of liars, too, I ween. + As to men, of every age, + All are liars, saith the sage. + Had he writ but of the low, + One could hardly think it so; + But that human mortals, all, + Lie like serpents, great and small, + Had another certified it, + I, for one, should have denied it. + He who lies in Aesop's way, + Or like Homer, minstrel gray, + Is no liar, sooth to say. + Charms that bind us like a dream, + Offspring of their happy art, + Cloak'd in fiction, more than seem + Truth to offer to the heart. + Both have left us works which I + Think unworthy e'er to die. + Liar call not him who squares + All his ends and aims with theirs; + But from sacred truth to vary, + Like the false depositary, + Is to be, by every rule + Both a liar and a fool. + The story goes: + + A man of trade, + In Persia, with his neighbour made + Deposit, as he left the state, + Of iron, say a hundredweight. + Return'd, said he, 'My iron, neighbour.' + 'Your iron! you have lost your labour; + I grieve to say it,--'pon my soul, + A rat has eaten up the whole. + My men were sharply scolded at, + But yet a hole, in spite of that, + Was left, as one is wont to be + In every barn or granary, + By which crept in that cursed rat.' + Admiring much the novel thief, + The man affected full belief. + Ere long, his faithless neighbour's child + He stole away,--a heavy lad,-- + And then to supper bade the dad, + Who thus plead off in accents sad:-- + 'It was but yesterday I had + A boy as fine as ever smiled, + An only son, as dear as life, + The darling of myself and wife. + Alas! we have him now no more, + And every joy with us is o'er.' + Replied the merchant, 'Yesternight, + By evening's faint and dusky ray, + I saw a monstrous owl alight, + And bear your darling son away + To yonder tott'ring ruin gray.' + 'Can I believe you, when you say + An owl bore off: so large a prey? + How could it be?' the father cried; + 'The thing is surely quite absurd; + My son with ease had kill'd the bird.' + 'The how of it,' the man replied, + 'Is not my province to decide; + I know I saw your son arise, + Borne through, the air before my eyes. + Why should it seem a strange affair, + Moreover, in a country where + A single rat contrives to eat + A hundred pounds of iron meat, + That owls should be of strength to lift ye + A booby boy that weighs but fifty?' + The other plainly saw the trick, + Restored the iron very quick. + And got, with shame as well as joy, + Possession of his kidnapp'd boy. + + The like occurr'd two travellers between. + One was of those + Who wear a microscope, I ween, + Each side the nose. + Would you believe their tales romantic, + Our Europe, in its monsters, beats + The lands that feel the tropic heats, + Surcharged with all that is gigantic. + This person, feeling free + To use the trope hyperbole, + Had seen a cabbage with his eyes + Exceeding any house in size. + 'And I have seen,' the other cries, + Resolved to leave his fellow in the lurch, + 'A pot that would have held a church. + Why, friend, don't give that doubting look,-- + The pot was made your cabbages to cook.' + This pot-discov'rer was a wit; + The iron-monger, too, was wise. + To such absurd and ultra lies + Their answers were exactly fit. + 'Twere doing honour overmuch, + To reason or dispute with such. + To overbid them is the shortest path, + And less provocative of wrath. + +[1] Bidpaii. + + + + +II.--THE TWO DOVES.[2] + + Two doves once cherish'd for each other + The love that brother hath for brother. + But one, of scenes domestic tiring, + To see the foreign world aspiring, + Was fool enough to undertake + A journey long, o'er land and lake. + 'What plan is this?' the other cried; + 'Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side? + This absence is the worst of ills; + Thy heart may bear, but me it kills. + Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care, + Of which all travellers tell, + Your courage somewhat quell. + Still, if the season later were-- + O wait the zephyrs!--hasten not-- + Just now the raven, on his oak, + In hoarser tones than usual spoke. + My heart forebodes the saddest lot,-- + The falcons, nets--Alas, it rains! + My brother, are thy wants supplied-- + Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide, + And all that unto health pertains?' + These words occasion'd some demur + In our imprudent traveller. + But restless curiosity + Prevail'd at last; and so said he,-- + 'The matter is not worth a sigh; + Three days, at most, will satisfy, + And then, returning, I shall tell + You all the wonders that befell,-- + With scenes enchanting and sublime + Shall sweeten all our coming time. + Who seeth nought, hath nought to say. + My travel's course, from day to day, + Will be the source of great delight. + A store of tales I shall relate,-- + Say there I lodged at such a date, + And saw there such and such a sight. + You'll think it all occurr'd to you.--' + On this, both, weeping, bade adieu. + Away the lonely wanderer flew.-- + A thunder-cloud began to lower; + He sought, as shelter from the shower, + The only tree that graced the plain, + Whose leaves ill turn'd the pelting rain. + The sky once more serene above, + On flew our drench'd and dripping dove, + And dried his plumage as he could. + Next, on the borders of a wood, + He spied some scatter'd grains of wheat, + Which one, he thought, might safely eat; + For there another dove he saw.-- + He felt the snare around him draw! + This wheat was but a treacherous bait + To lure poor pigeons to their fate. + The snare had been so long in use, + With beak and wings he struggled loose: + Some feathers perish'd while it stuck; + But, what was worst in point of luck, + A hawk, the cruellest of foes, + Perceived him clearly as he rose, + Off dragging, like a runaway, + A piece of string. The bird of prey + Had bound him, in a moment more, + Much faster than he was before, + But from the clouds an eagle came, + And made the hawk himself his game. + By war of robbers profiting, + The dove for safety plied the wing, + And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, + Believed his dangers ended all. + A roguish boy had there a sling, + (Age pitiless! + We must confess,) + And, by a most unlucky fling, + Half kill'd our hapless dove; + Who now, no more in love + With foreign travelling, + And lame in leg and wing, + Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, + Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, + In truly sad and piteous plight. + The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, + What pleasure might their pains repay. + Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?-- + Pray, let it not be far from home. + To each the other ought to be + A world of beauty ever new; + In each the other ought to see + The whole of what is good and true. + + Myself have loved; nor would I then, + For all the wealth of crownèd men, + Or arch celestial, paved with gold, + The presence of those woods have sold, + And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which + Were by the joyful steps made rich, + And smiled beneath the charming eyes + Of her who made my heart a prize-- + To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, + And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath. + Ah, when will time such moments bring again? + To me are sweet and charming objects vain-- + My soul forsaking to its restless mood? + O, did my wither'd heart but dare + To kindle for the bright and good, + Should not I find the charm still there? + Is love, to me, with things that were? + +[2] Bidpaii. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's + very best. See Translator's Preface. + + + + +III.--THE MONKEY AND THE LEOPARD.[3] + + A monkey and a leopard were + The rivals at a country fair. + Each advertised his own attractions. + Said one, 'Good sirs, the highest place + My merit knows; for, of his grace, + The king hath seen me face to face; + And, judging by his looks and actions, + I gave the best of satisfactions. + When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, + My skin will make his royal muff. + So richly is it streak'd and spotted, + So delicately waved and dotted, + Its various beauty cannot fail to please.' + And, thus invited, everybody sees; + But soon they see, and soon depart. + The monkey's show-bill to the mart + His merits thus sets forth the while, + All in his own peculiar style:-- + 'Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come; + In magic arts I am at home. + The whole variety in which + My neighbour boasts himself so rich, + Is to his simple skin confined, + While mine is living in the mind. + Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille, + The son-in-law to Tickleville, + Pope's monkey, and of great renown, + Is now just freshly come to town, + Arrived in three bateaux, express, + Your worships to address; + For he can speak, you understand; + Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand; + Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks; + In short, can do a thousand tricks; + And all for blancos six--[4] + Not, messieurs, for a sou. + And, if you think the price won't do, + When you have seen, then he'll restore + Each man his money at the door.' + + The ape was not to reason blind; + For who in wealth of dress can find + Such charms as dwell in wealth of mind? + One meets our ever-new desires, + The other in a moment tires. + + Alas! how many lords there are, + Of mighty sway and lofty mien, + Who, like this leopard at the fair, + Show all their talents on the skin! + +[3] Aesop; also Avianus. +[4] _Blancos six._--The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which + were equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present + English money. + + + + +IV.--THE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN. + + God's works are good. This truth to prove + Around the world I need not move; + I do it by the nearest pumpkin. + 'This fruit so large, on vine so small,' + Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin-- + 'What could He mean who made us all? + He's left this pumpkin out of place. + If I had order'd in the case, + Upon that oak it should have hung-- + A noble fruit as ever swung + To grace a tree so firm and strong. + Indeed, it was a great mistake, + As this discovery teaches, + That I myself did not partake + His counsels whom my curate preaches. + All things had then in order come; + This acorn, for example, + Not bigger than my thumb, + Had not disgraced a tree so ample. + The more I think, the more I wonder + To see outraged proportion's laws, + And that without the slightest cause; + God surely made an awkward blunder.' + With such reflections proudly fraught, + Our sage grew tired of mighty thought, + And threw himself on Nature's lap, + Beneath an oak,--to take his nap. + Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, + An acorn fell: he waked, and in + The matted beard that graced his chin, + He found the cause of such a bruise + As made him different language use. + 'O! O!' he cried; 'I bleed! I bleed! + And this is what has done the deed! + But, truly, what had been my fate, + Had this had half a pumpkin's weight! + I see that God had reasons good, + And all his works well understood.' + Thus home he went in humbler mood.[5] + +[5] This fable was much admired by Madame de Sévigné. See Translator's + Preface. + + + + +V.--THE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN. + + A boy who savour'd of his school,-- + A double rogue and double fool,-- + By youth and by the privilege + Which pedants have, by ancient right, + To alter reason, and abridge,-- + A neighbour robb'd, with fingers light, + Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had, + Of fruits that make the autumn glad, + The very best--and none but he. + Each season brought, from plant and tree, + To him its tribute; for, in spring, + His was the brightest blossoming. + One day, he saw our hopeful lad + Perch'd on the finest tree he had, + Not only stuffing down the fruit, + But spoiling, like a Vandal brute, + The buds that play advance-courier + Of plenty in the coming year. + The branches, too, he rudely tore, + And carried things to such a pass, + The owner sent his servant o'er + To tell the master of his class. + The latter came, and came attended + By all the urchins of his school, + And thus one plunderer's mischief mended + By pouring in an orchard-full. + It seems the pedant was intent + On making public punishment, + To teach his boys the force of law, + And strike their roguish hearts with awe. + The use of which he first must show + From Virgil and from Cicero, + And many other ancients noted, + From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted. + So long, indeed, his lecture lasted, + While not a single urchin fasted, + That, ere its close, their thievish crimes + Were multiplied a hundred times. + + I hate all eloquence and reason + Expended plainly out of season. + Of all the beasts that earth have cursed + While they have fed on't, + The school-boy strikes me as the worst-- + Except the pedant. + The better of these neighbours two + For me, I'm sure, would never do. + + + + +VI.--THE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER. + + A block of marble was so fine, + To buy it did a sculptor hasten. + 'What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine-- + A god, a table, or a basin?' + + 'A god,' said he, 'the thing shall be; + I'll arm it, too, with thunder. + Let people quake, and bow the knee + With reverential wonder.' + + So well the cunning artist wrought + All things within a mortal's reach, + That soon the marble wanted nought + Of being Jupiter, but speech. + + Indeed, the man whose skill did make + Had scarcely laid his chisel down, + Before himself began to quake, + And fear his manufacture's frown. + + And even this excess of faith + The poet once scarce fell behind, + The hatred fearing, and the wrath, + Of gods the product of his mind. + + This trait we see in infancy + Between the baby and its doll, + Of wax or china, it may be-- + A pocket stuff'd, or folded shawl. + + Imagination rules the heart: + And here we find the fountain head + From whence the pagan errors start, + That o'er the teeming nations spread. + + With violent and flaming zeal, + Each takes his own chimera's part; + Pygmalion[6] doth a passion feel + For Venus chisel'd by his art. + + All men, as far as in them lies, + Create realities of dreams. + To truth our nature proves but ice; + To falsehood, fire it seems. + +[6] _Pygmalion_.--The poet here takes an erroneous view of the story + of Pygmalion. That sculptor fell in love with his statue of the + nymph Galatea, to which Venus gave life at his request. See Ovid, + _Metam_. Book X. + + + + +VII.--THE MOUSE METAMORPHOSED INTO A MAID.[7] + + A mouse once from an owl's beak fell; + I'd not have pick'd it up, I wis; + A Brahmin did it: very well; + Each country has its prejudice. + The mouse, indeed, was sadly bruised. + Although, as neighbours, we are used + To be more kind to many others, + The Brahmins treat the mice as brothers. + The notion haunts their heads, that when + The soul goes forth from dying men, + It enters worm, or bird, or beast, + As Providence or Fate is pleased; + And on this mystery rests their law, + Which from Pythagoras they're said to draw. + And hence the Brahmin kindly pray'd + To one who knew the wizard's trade, + To give the creature, wounded sore, + The form in which it lodged before. + Forthwith the mouse became a maid, + Of years about fifteen; + A lovelier was never seen. + She would have waked, I ween, + In Priam's son, a fiercer flame + Than did the beauteous Grecian dame. + Surprised at such a novelty, + The Brahmin to the damsel cried, + 'Your choice is free; + For every he + Will seek you for his bride.' + Said she, 'Am I to have a voice? + The strongest, then, shall be my choice.' + 'O sun!' the Brahmin cried, 'this maid is thine, + And thou shalt be a son-in-law of mine.' + 'No,' said the sun, 'this murky cloud, it seems, + In strength exceeds me, since he hides my beams; + And him I counsel you to take.' + Again the reverend Brahmin spake-- + 'O cloud, on-flying with thy stores of water, + Pray wast thou born to wed my daughter?' + 'Ah, no, alas! for, you may see, + The wind is far too strong for me. + My claims with Boreas' to compare, + I must confess, I do not dare.' + 'O wind,' then cried the Brahmin, vex'd, + And wondering what would hinder next,-- + 'Approach, and, with thy sweetest air, + Embrace--possess--the fairest fair.' + The wind, enraptured, thither blew;-- + A mountain stopp'd him as he flew, + To him now pass'd the tennis-ball, + And from him to a creature small. + Said he, 'I'd wed the maid, but that + I've had a quarrel with the rat. + A fool were I to take the bride + From one so sure to pierce my side.' + The rat! It thrill'd the damsel's ear; + To name at once seem'd sweet and dear. + The rat! 'Twas one of Cupid's blows; + The like full many a maiden knows; + But all of this beneath the rose. + + One smacketh ever of the place + Where first he show'd the world his face. + Thus far the fable's clear as light; + But, if we take a nearer sight, + There lurks within its drapery + Somewhat of graceless sophistry; + For who, that worships e'en the glorious sun, + Would not prefer to wed some cooler one? + And doth a flea's exceed a giant's might, + Because the former can the latter bite? + And, by the rule of strength, the rat + Had sent his bride to wed the cat; + From cat to dog, and onward still + To wolf or tiger, if you will: + Indeed, the fabulist might run + A circle backward to the sun.-- + But to the change the tale supposes,-- + In learned phrase, metempsychosis. + The very thing the wizard did + Its falsity exposes-- + If that indeed were ever hid. + According to the Brahmin's plan, + The proud aspiring soul of man, + And souls that dwell in humbler forms + Of rats and mice, and even worms, + All issue from a common source, + And, hence, they are the same of course.-- + Unequal but by accident + Of organ and of tenement, + They use one pair of legs, or two, + Or e'en with none contrive to do, + As tyrant matter binds them to. + Why, then, could not so fine a frame + Constrain its heavenly guest + To wed the solar flame? + A rat her love possess'd. + + In all respects, compared and weigh'd, + The souls of men and souls of mice + Quite different are made,-- + Unlike in sort as well as size. + Each fits and fills its destined part + As Heaven doth well provide; + Nor witch, nor fiend, nor magic art, + Can set their laws aside. + +[7] Bidpaii. + + + + +VIII.--THE FOOL WHO SOLD WISDOM.[8] + + Of fools come never in the reach: + No rule can I more wisely teach. + Nor can there be a better one + Than this,--distemper'd heads to shun. + We often see them, high and low. + They tickle e'en the royal ear, + As, privileged and free from fear, + They hurl about them joke and jeer, + At pompous lord or silly beau. + + A fool, in town, did wisdom cry; + The people, eager, flock'd to buy. + Each for his money got, + Paid promptly on the spot, + Besides a box upon the head, + Two fathoms' length of thread. + The most were vex'd--but quite in vain + The public only mock'd their pain. + The wiser they who nothing said, + But pocketed the box and thread. + To search the meaning of the thing + Would only laughs and hisses bring. + Hath reason ever guaranteed + The wit of fools in speech or deed? + 'Tis said of brainless heads in France, + The cause of what they do is chance. + One dupe, however, needs must know + What meant the thread, and what the blow; + So ask'd a sage, to make it sure. + 'They're both hieroglyphics pure,' + The sage replied without delay; + 'All people well advised will stay + From fools this fibre's length away, + Or get--I hold it sure as fate-- + The other symbol on the pate. + So far from cheating you of gold, + The fool this wisdom fairly sold.' + +[8] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE OYSTER AND THE LITIGANTS. + + Two pilgrims on the sand espied + An oyster thrown up by the tide. + In hope, both swallow'd ocean's fruit; + But ere the fact there came dispute. + While one stoop'd down to take the prey, + The other push'd him quite away. + Said he, ''Twere rather meet + To settle which shall eat. + Why, he who first the oyster saw + Should be its eater, by the law; + The other should but see him do it.' + Replied his mate, 'If thus you view it, + Thank God the lucky eye is mine.' + 'But I've an eye not worse than thine,' + The other cried, 'and will be cursed, + If, too, I didn't see it first.' + 'You saw it, did you? Grant it true, + I saw it then, and felt it too.' + Amidst this sweet affair, + Arrived a person very big, + Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig.[9] + They made him judge,--to set the matter square. + Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, + Took up the oyster and the case: + In opening both, the first he swallow'd, + And, in due time, his judgment follow'd. + 'Attend: the court awards you each a shell + Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well.' + Foot up the cost of suits at law, + The leavings reckon and awards, + The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw, + And leave the parties--purse and cards.[10] + +[9] _Sir Nincom Periwig_.--The name in La Fontaine is Perrin Dandin, + which is also that of the peasant judge in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 41), and the judge in Racine's "Plaideurs" (produced in 1668). + Molière's "George Dandin" (produced 1664), may also have helped La + Fontaine to the name. The last-mentioned character is a farmer, but, + like the others, he is a species of incapable; and the word dandin in + the old French dictionaries is given as signifying inaptness or + incapacity. +[10] The oyster and lawyer story is also treated in Fable XXI., Book I. + (_The Hornet and the Bees_). + + + + +X.--THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG.[11] + + A troutling, some time since,[12] + Endeavour'd vainly to convince + A hungry fisherman + Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. + That controversy made it plain + That letting go a good secure, + In hope of future gain, + Is but imprudence pure. + The fisherman had reason good-- + The troutling did the best he could-- + Both argued for their lives. + Now, if my present purpose thrives, + I'll prop my former proposition + By building on a small addition. + A certain wolf, in point of wit + The prudent fisher's opposite, + A dog once finding far astray, + Prepared to take him as his prey. + The dog his leanness pled; + 'Your lordship, sure,' he said, + 'Cannot be very eager + To eat a dog so meagre. + To wait a little do not grudge: + The wedding of my master's only daughter + Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter; + And then, as you yourself can judge, + I cannot help becoming fatter.' + The wolf, believing, waived the matter, + And so, some days therefrom, + Return'd with sole design to see + If fat enough his dog might be. + The rogue was now at home: + He saw the hunter through the fence. + 'My friend,' said he, 'please wait; + I'll be with you a moment hence, + And fetch our porter of the gate.' + This porter was a dog immense, + That left to wolves no future tense. + Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,-- + It might not be so safely tamper'd. + 'My service to your porter dog,' + Was his reply, as off he scamper'd. + His legs proved better than his head, + And saved him life to learn his trade. + +[11] Aesop. +[12] _A troutling_.--See Book V., Fable III.--Translator. + + + + +XI.--NOTHING TOO MUCH.[13] + + Look where we will throughout creation, + We look in vain for moderation. + There is a certain golden mean, + Which Nature's sovereign Lord, I ween, + Design'd the path of all forever. + Doth one pursue it? Never. + E'en things which by their nature bless, + Are turn'd to curses by excess. + + The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, + Green waving in the genial air, + By overgrowth exhausts the soil; + By superfluity of leaves + Defrauds the treasure of its sheaves, + And mocks the busy farmer's toil. + Not less redundant is the tree, + So sweet a thing is luxury. + The grain within due bounds to keep, + Their Maker licenses the sheep + The leaves excessive to retrench. + In troops they spread across the plain, + And, nibbling down the hapless grain, + Contrive to spoil it, root and branch. + So, then, with, licence from on high, + The wolves are sent on sheep to prey; + The whole the greedy gluttons slay; + Or, if they don't, they try. + + Next, men are sent on wolves to take + The vengeance now condign: + In turn the same abuse they make + Of this behest divine. + + Of animals, the human kind + Are to excess the most inclined. + On low and high we make the charge,-- + Indeed, upon the race at large. + There liveth not the soul select + That sinneth not in this respect. + Of "Nought too much," the fact is, + All preach the truth,--none practise. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +XII.--THE WAX-CANDLE.[14] + + From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. + On Mount Hymettus,[15] first, they say, + They made their home, and stored away + The treasures which the zephyrs fan. + When men had robb'd these daughters of the sky, + And left their palaces of nectar dry,-- + Or, as in French the thing's explain'd + When hives were of their honey drain'd-- + The spoilers 'gan the wax to handle, + And fashion'd from it many a candle. + Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire, + Remain uninjured by the teeth of time, + Was kindled into great desire + For immortality sublime. + And so this new Empedocles[16] + Upon the blazing pile one sees, + Self-doom'd by purest folly + To fate so melancholy. + The candle lack'd philosophy: + All things are made diverse to be. + To wander from our destined tracks-- + There cannot be a vainer wish; + But this Empedocles of wax, + That melted in the chafing-dish, + Was truly not a greater fool + Than he of whom we read at school. + +[14] Abstemius. +[15] _Mount Hymettus_.--This was the mountain whence the Greeks got + fine honey. +[16] _Empedocles_.--A Pythagorean philosopher who asserted that he + had been, before becoming a man, a girl, a boy, a shrub, a bird, and + a fish. He is further credited with the vanity of wishing to be + thought a god, and hence of throwing himself into Mount Etna to + conceal his death. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, + says one story, he convicted himself of suicide by inadvertently + leaving his slippers at the foot of the volcano. + + + + +XIII.--JUPITER AND THE PASSENGER.[17] + + How danger would the gods enrich, + If we the vows remember'd which + It drives us to! But, danger past, + Kind Providence is paid the last. + No earthly debt is treated so. + 'Now, Jove,' the wretch exclaims, 'will wait; + He sends no sheriff to one's gate, + Like creditors below;' + But, let me ask the dolt, + What means the thunderbolt? + + A passenger, endanger'd by the sea, + Had vow'd a hundred oxen good + To him who quell'd old Terra's brood. + He had not one: as well might he + Have vow'd a hundred elephants. + Arrived on shore, his good intents + Were dwindled to the smoke which rose + An offering merely for the nose, + From half a dozen beefless bones. + 'Great Jove,' said he, 'behold my vow! + The fumes of beef thou breathest now + Are all thy godship ever owns: + From debt I therefore stand acquitted.' + With seeming smile, the god submitted, + But not long after caught him well, + By sending him a dream, to tell + Of treasure hid. Off ran the liar, + As if to quench a house on fire, + And on a band of robbers fell. + As but a crown he had that day, + He promised them of sterling gold + A hundred talents truly told; + Directing where conceal'd they lay, + In such a village on their way. + The rogues so much the tale suspected, + Said one, 'If we should suffer you to, + You'd cheaply get us all detected; + Go, then, and bear your gold to Pluto.' + +[17] Aesop. + + + + +XIV.--THE CAT AND THE FOX. + + The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage, + Together went on pilgrimage. + Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they, + By sleight of face and sleight of paw, + Regardless both of right and law, + Contrived expenses to repay, + By eating many a fowl and cheese, + And other tricks as bad as these. + Disputing served them to beguile + The road of many a weary mile. + Disputing! but for this resort, + The world would go to sleep, in short. + Our pilgrims, as a thing of course, + Disputed till their throats were hoarse. + Then, dropping to a lower tone, + They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, + Till Renard whisper'd to the cat, + 'You think yourself a knowing one: + How many cunning tricks have you? + For I've a hundred, old and new, + All ready in my haversack.' + The cat replied, 'I do not lack, + Though with but one provided; + And, truth to honour, for that matter, + I hold it than a thousand better.' + In fresh dispute they sided; + And loudly were they at it, when + Approach'd a mob of dogs and men. + 'Now,' said the cat, 'your tricks ransack, + And put your cunning brains to rack, + One life to save; I'll show you mine-- + A trick, you see, for saving nine.' + With that, she climb'd a lofty pine. + The fox his hundred ruses tried, + And yet no safety found. + A hundred times he falsified + The nose of every hound.-- + Was here, and there, and everywhere, + Above, and under ground; + But yet to stop he did not dare, + Pent in a hole, it was no joke, + To meet the terriers or the smoke. + So, leaping into upper air, + He met two dogs, that choked him there. + + Expedients may be too many, + Consuming time to choose and try. + On one, but that as good as any, + 'Tis best in danger to rely. + + + + +XV.--THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE THIEF.[18] + + A man that loved,--and loved his wife,-- + Still led an almost joyless life. + No tender look, nor gracious word, + Nor smile, that, coming from a bride, + Its object would have deified, + E'er told her doting lord + The love with which he burn'd + Was in its kind return'd. + Still unrepining at his lot, + This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot, + Thank'd God for all the good he got. + But why? If love doth fail to season + Whatever pleasures Hymen gives, + I'm sure I cannot see the reason + Why one for him the happier lives. + However, since his wife + Had ne'er caress'd him in her life, + He made complaint of it one night. + The entrance of a thief + Cut short his tale of grief, + And gave the lady such a fright, + She shrunk from dreaded harms + Within her husband's arms. + 'Good thief,' cried he, + 'This joy so sweet, I owe to thee: + Now take, as thy reward, + Of all that owns me lord, + Whatever suits thee save my spouse; + Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house.' + As thieves are not remarkably + O'erstock'd with modesty, + This fellow made quite free. + + From this account it doth appear, + The passions all are ruled by fear. + Aversion may be conquer'd by it, + And even love may not defy it. + But still some cases there have been + Where love hath ruled the roast, I ween. + That lover, witness, highly bred, + Who burnt his house above his head, + And all to clasp a certain dame, + And bear her harmless through the flame. + This transport through the fire, + I own, I much admire; + And for a Spanish soul, reputed coolish, + I think it grander even than 'twas foolish.[19] + +[18] Bidpaii. +[19] _'Twas foolish._--La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of + the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of + Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to + a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he + might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.--Translator. + + + + +XVI.--THE TREASURE AND THE TWO MEN.[20] + + A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, + Who lodged the devil in his purse,-- + That is to say, lodged nothing there,-- + By self-suspension in the air + Concluded his accounts to square, + Since, should he not, he understood, + From various tokens, famine would-- + A death for which no mortal wight + Had ever any appetite. + A ruin, crown'd with ivy green, + Was of his tragedy the scene. + His hangman's noose he duly tied, + And then to drive a nail he tried;-- + But by his blows the wall gave way, + Now tremulous and old, + Disclosing to the light of day + A sum of hidden gold. + He clutch'd it up, and left Despair + To struggle with his halter there. + Nor did the much delighted man + E'en stop to count it as he ran. + But, while he went, the owner came, + Who loved it with a secret flame, + Too much indeed for kissing,-- + And found his money--missing! + 'O Heavens!' he cried, 'shall I + Such riches lose, and still not die? + Shall I not hang?--as I, in fact, + Might justly do if cord I lack'd; + But now, without expense, I can; + This cord here only lacks a man.' + The saving was no saving clause; + It suffer'd not his heart to falter, + Until it reach'd his final pause + As full possessor of the halter,-- + 'Tis thus the miser often grieves: + Whoe'er the benefit receives + Of what he owns, he never must-- + Mere treasurer for thieves, + Or relatives, or dust. + But what say we about the trade + In this affair by Fortune made? + Why, what but that it was just like her! + In freaks like this delighteth she. + The shorter any turn may be, + The better it is sure to strike her. + It fills that goddess full of glee + A self-suspended man to see; + And that it does especially, + When made so unexpectedly. + +[20] The story of this fable has been traced to the Epigrams of Ausonius + who was born at Bordeaux, and lived in the fourth century. + + + + +XVII.--THE MONKEY AND THE CAT. + + Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, + (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) + Co-servants and lodgers: + More mischievous codgers + Ne'er mess'd from a platter, since platters were flat. + Was anything wrong in the house or about it, + The neighbours were blameless,--no mortal could doubt it; + For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice, + More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice. + One day the two plunderers sat by the fire, + Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. + To steal them would be a right noble affair. + A double inducement our heroes drew there-- + 'Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill, + And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. + Said Bertrand to Ratto, 'My brother, to-day + Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, + And take me these chestnuts, I pray. + Which were I but otherwise fitted + (As I am ingeniously witted) + For pulling things out of the flame, + Would stand but a pitiful game.' + ''Tis done,' replied Ratto, all prompt to obey; + And thrust out his paw in a delicate way. + First giving the ashes a scratch, + He open'd the coveted batch; + Then lightly and quickly impinging, + He drew out, in spite of the singeing, + One after another, the chestnuts at last,-- + While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast. + A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun. + Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one.-- + + No more are the princes, by flattery paid + For furnishing help in a different trade, + And burning their fingers to bring + More power to some mightier king.[21] + +[21] For Madame de Sévigné's opinion of this fable, see the Translator's + Preface. + + + + +XVIII.--THE KITE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.[22] + + A noted thief, the kite, + Had set a neighbourhood in fright, + And raised the clamorous noise + Of all the village boys, + When, by misfortune,--sad to say,-- + A nightingale fell in his way. + Spring's herald begg'd him not to eat + A bird for music--not for meat. + 'O spare!' cried she, 'and I'll relate + 'The crime of Tereus and his fate.'-- + 'What's Tereus?[23] Is it food for kites?'-- + 'No, but a king, of female rights + The villain spoiler, whom I taught + A lesson with repentance fraught; + And, should it please you not to kill, + My song about his fall + Your very heart shall thrill, + As it, indeed, does all.'-- + Replied the kite, a 'pretty thing! + When I am faint and famishing, + To let you go, and hear you sing?'-- + 'Ah, but I entertain the king!'-- + 'Well, when he takes you, let him hear + Your tale, full wonderful, no doubt; + For me, a kite, I'll go without.' + An empty stomach hath no ear.[24] + +[22] Abstemius; also Aesop. +[23] _What's Tereus?_--See story of Tereus Philomela and Progne, in + Ovid's _Metamorphoses_.--See also Fable XV., Book III., and Note. +[24] _An empty stomach hath no ear_.--Cato the Censor said in one of + his speeches to the Romans, who were clamouring for a distribution + of corn, "It is a difficult task, my fellow-citizens, to speak to + the belly, because it hath no ears."--Plutarch's _Life of Cato_ + (Langhorne's ed.). "The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled + with fair words."--Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 63. + + + + +XIX.--THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK.[25] + + 'What! shall I lose them one by one, + This stupid coward throng? + And never shall the wolf have done? + They were at least a thousand strong, + But still they've let poor Robin[26] fall a prey! + Ah, woe's the day! + Poor Robin Wether lying dead! + He follow'd for a bit of bread + His master through the crowded city, + And would have follow'd, had he led, + Around the world. O! what a pity! + My pipe, and even step, he knew; + To meet me when I came, he flew; + In hedge-row shade we napp'd together; + Alas, alas, my Robin Wether!' + When Willy thus had duly said + His eulogy upon the dead + And unto everlasting fame + Consign'd poor Robin Wether's name, + He then harangued the flock at large, + From proud old chieftain rams + Down to the smallest lambs, + Addressing them this weighty charge,-- + Against the wolf, as one, to stand + In firm, united, fearless band, + By which they might expel him from their land. + Upon their faith, they would not flinch, + They promised him, a single inch. + 'We'll choke,' said they, 'the murderous glutton + Who robbed of us of our Robin Mutton.' + Their lives they pledged against the beast, + And Willy gave them all a feast. + But evil Fate, than Phoebus faster, + Ere night had brought a new disaster: + A wolf there came. By nature's law, + The total flock were prompt to run; + And yet 'twas not the wolf they saw, + But shadow of him from the setting sun. + + Harangue a craven soldiery, + What heroes they will seem to be! + But let them snuff the smoke of battle, + Or even hear the ramrods rattle, + Adieu to all their spunk and mettle: + Your own example will be vain, + And exhortations, to retain + The timid cattle. + +[25] Abstemius. +[26] _Robin_.--Rabelais, in his _Pantagruel_, Book IV., ch. 4, has Robin, + Robin Mouton, &c. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK X. + + +I.--THE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG. + +Address to Madame de la Sablière.[1] + + You, Iris, 'twere an easy task to praise; + But you refuse the incense of my lays. + In this you are unlike all other mortals, + Who welcome all the praise that seeks their portals; + Not one who is not soothed by sound so sweet. + For me to blame this humour were not meet, + By gods and mortals shared in common, + And, in the main, by lovely woman. + That drink, so vaunted by the rhyming trade, + That cheers the god who deals the thunder-blow, + And oft intoxicates the gods below,-- + The nectar, Iris, is of praises made. + You taste it not. But, in its place, + Wit, science, even trifles grace + Your bill of fare; but, for that matter, + The world will not believe the latter. + Well, leave the world in unbelief. + Still science, trifles, fancies light as air, + I hold, should mingle in a bill of fare, + Each giving each its due relief; + As, where the gifts of Flora fall, + On different flowers we see + Alight the busy bee, + Educing sweet from all. + Thus much premised, don't think it strange, + Or aught beyond my muse's range, + If e'en my fables should infold, + Among their nameless trumpery, + The traits of a philosophy + Far-famed as subtle, charming, bold. + They call it new--the men of wit; + Perhaps you have not heard of it?[2] + My verse will tell you what it means:-- + They say that beasts are mere machines;[3] + That, in their doings, everything + Is done by virtue of a spring-- + No sense, no soul, nor notion; + But matter merely,--set in motion, + Just such the watch in kind, + Which joggeth on, to purpose blind. + Now ope, and read within its breast-- + The place of soul is by its wheels possess'd. + One moves a second, that a third, + Till finally its sound is heard. + And now the beast, our sages say, + Is moved precisely in this way + An object strikes it in a certain place: + The spot thus struck, without a moment's space, + To neighbouring parts the news conveys; + Thus sense receives it through the chain, + And takes impression.--How? Explain.-- + Not I. They say, by sheer necessity, + From will as well as passion free, + The animal is found the thrall + Of movements which the vulgar call + Joy, sadness, pleasure, pain, and love-- + The cause extrinsic and above.-- + Believe it not. What's this I hold? + Why, sooth, it is a watch of gold-- + Its life, the mere unbending of a spring. + And we?--are quite a different thing. + Hear how Descartes--Descartes, whom all applaud, + Whom pagans would have made a god, + Who holds, in fact, the middle place + 'Twixt ours and the celestial race, + About as does the plodding ass + From man to oyster as you pass-- + Hear how this author states the case + 'Of all the tribes to being brought + By our Creator out of nought, + I only have the gift of thought.' + Now, Iris, you will recollect + We were by older science taught + That when brutes think, they don't reflect. + Descartes proceeds beyond the wall, + And says they do not think at all. + This you believe with ease; + And so could I, if I should please. + Still, in the forest, when, from morn + Till midday, sounds of dog and horn + Have terrified the stag forlorn; + When he has doubled forth and back, + And labour'd to confound his track, + Till tired and spent with efforts vain-- + An ancient stag, of antlers ten;-- + He puts a younger in his place, + All fresh, to weary out the chase.-- + What thoughts for one that merely grazes! + The doublings, turnings, windings, mazes, + The substituting fresher bait, + Were worthy of a man of state-- + And worthy of a better fate! + To yield to rascal dogs his breath + Is all the honour of his death. + And when the partridge danger spies, + Before her brood have strength to rise, + She wisely counterfeits a wound, + And drags her wing upon the ground-- + Thus, from her home, beside some ancient log, + Safe drawing off the sportsman and his dog; + And while the latter seems to seize her, + The victim of an easy chase-- + 'Your teeth are not for such as me, sir,' + She cries, + And flies, + And laughs the former in his face. + + Far north, 'tis said, the people live + In customs nearly primitive; + That is to say, are bound + In ignorance profound:-- + I mean the people human; + For animals are dwelling there + With skill such buildings to prepare + As could on earth but few men. + Firm laid across the torrent's course, + Their work withstands its mighty force, + So damming it from shore to shore, + That, gliding smoothly o'er, + In even sheets the waters pour. + Their work, as it proceeds, they grade and bevel, + Or bring it up to plumb or level; + First lay their logs, and then with mortar smear, + As if directed by an engineer. + Each labours for the public good; + The old command, the youthful brood + Cut down, and shape, and place the wood. + Compared with theirs, e'en Plato's model state + Were but the work of some apprentice pate. + Such are the beaver folks, who know + Enough to house themselves from snow, + And bridge, though they can swim, the pools. + Meanwhile, our kinsmen are such fools, + In spite of their example, + They dwell in huts less ample, + And cross the streams by swimming, + However cold and brimming! + Now that the skilful beaver, + Is but a body void of spirit, + From whomsoever I might hear it, + I would believe it never. + + But I go farther in the case. + Pray listen while I tell + A thing which lately fell + From one of truly royal race.[4] + A prince beloved by Victory, + The North's defender here shall be + My voucher and your guaranty; + Whose mighty name alone + Commands the sultan's throne, + The king whom Poland calls her own. + This king declares (kings cannot lie, we hear) + That, on his own frontier, + Some animals there are; + Engaged in ceaseless war; + From age to age the quarrel runs, + Transmitted down from sires to sons; + (These beasts, he says, are to the fox akin;) + And with more skill no war hath been, + By highest military powers, + Conducted in this age of ours + Guards, piquets, scouts, and spies, + And ambuscade that hidden lies, + The foe to capture by surprise, + And many a shrewd appliance + Of that pernicious, cursed science, + The daughter of the Stygian wave, + And mother harsh of heroes brave, + Those military creatures have. + To chant their feats a bard we lack, + Till Death shall give us Homer back. + And should he such a wonder do, + And, while his hand was in, release + Old Epicurus' rival[5] too, + What would the latter say to facts like these? + Why, as I've said, that nature does such things + In animals by means of springs; + That Memory is but corporeal; + And that to do the things array'd + So proudly in my story all, + The animal but needs her aid. + At each return, the object, so to speak, + Proceeds directly to her store + With keenest optics--there to seek + The image it had traced before, + Which found, proceeds forthwith to act + Just as at first it did, in fact, + By neither thought nor reason back'd. + Not so with us, beasts perpendicular; + With us kind Heaven is more particular. + Self-ruled by independent mind, + We're not the sport of objects blind, + Nor e'en to instinct are consign'd. + I walk; I talk; I feel the sway + Of power within + This nice machine, + It cannot but obey. + This power, although with matter link'd, + Is comprehended as distinct. + Indeed 'tis comprehended better + In truth and essence than is matter. + O'er all our arts it is supreme. + But how doth matter understand + Or hear its sovereign lord's command? + Here doth a difficulty seem: + I see the tool obey the hand; + But then the hand who guideth it; + Who guides the stars in order fit? + Perhaps each mighty world, + Since from its Maker hurl'd, + Some angel may have kept in custody. + However that may be, + A spirit dwells in such as we; + It moves our limbs; we feel its mandates now; + We see and know it rules, but know not how: + Nor shall we know, indeed, + Till in the breast of God we read. + And, speaking in all verity, + Descartes is just as ignorant as we; + In things beyond a mortal's ken, + He knows no more than other men. + But, Iris, I confess to this, + That in the beasts of which I speak + Such spirit it were vain to seek, + For man its only temple is. + Yet beasts must have a place + Beneath our godlike race, + Which no mere plant requires + Although the plant respires. + + But what shall one reply + To what I next shall certify? + Two rats in foraging fell on an egg,-- + For gentry such as they + A genteel dinner every way; + They needed not to find an ox's leg. + Brimful of joy and appetite, + They were about to sack the box, + So tight without the aid of locks, + When suddenly there came in sight + A personage--Sir Pullet Fox. + Sure, luck was never more untoward + Since Fortune was a vixen froward! + How should they save their egg--and bacon? + Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd; + Should it in forward paws be taken, + Or roll'd along, or dragg'd? + Each method seem'd impossible, + And each was then of danger full. + Necessity, ingenious mother, + Brought forth what help'd them from their pother. + As still there was a chance to save their prey,-- + The spunger yet some hundred yards away,-- + One seized the egg, and turn'd upon his back, + And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, + That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, + The other dragg'd him by the tail. + Who dares the inference to blink, + That beasts possess wherewith to think? + + Were I commission'd to bestow + This power on creatures here below, + The beasts should have as much of mind + As infants of the human kind. + Think not the latter, from their birth? + It hence appears there are on earth + That have the simple power of thought + Where reason hath no knowledge wrought. + And on this wise an equal power I'd yield + To all the various tenants of the field; + Not reason such as in ourselves we find, + But something more than any mainspring blind. + A speck of matter I would subtilise + Almost beyond the reach of mental eyes;-- + An atom's essence, one might say, + An extract of a solar ray, + More quick and pungent than a flame of fire,-- + For if of flame the wood is sire, + Cannot the flame, itself refined, + Give some idea of the mind? + Comes not the purest gold + From lead, as we are told? + To feel and choose, my work should soar-- + Unthinking judgment--nothing more. + No monkey of my manufacture + Should argue from his sense or fact, sure: + But my allotment to mankind + Should be of very different mind. + We men should share in double measure, + Or rather have a twofold treasure; + The one the soul, the same in all + That bear the name of animal-- + The sages, dunces, great and small, + That tenant this our teeming ball;-- + The other still another soul, + Which should to mortals here belong + In common with the angel throng; + Which, made an independent whole, + Could pierce the skies to worlds of light, + Within a point have room to be,-- + Its life a morn, sans noon or night. + Exempt from all destructive change-- + A thing as real as it is strange. + In infancy this child of day + Should glimmer but a feeble ray. + Its earthly organs stronger grown, + The beam of reason, brightly thrown, + Should pierce the darkness, thick and gross, + That holds the other prison'd close. + +[1] _Madame de la Sablière_.--See the following note; also the + Translator's Preface. +[2] _Perhaps you have not heard of it_?--Madame de la Sablière was + one of the most learned women of the age in which she lived, and knew + more of the philosophy of Descartes, in which she was a believer, + than our poet; but she dreaded the reputation of a "blue-stocking," + and for this reason La Fontaine addresses her as if she might be + ignorant of the Cartesian theory.--Translator. Molière's _Femme + Savante_, the object of which was to ridicule the French + "blue-stockings," had been only recently produced upon the stage + (1672), hence Madame de la Sablière's fears, and La Fontaine's + delicate forbearance. +[3] _Beasts are mere machines_.--At this time the discussion as to + the mind in animals was very rife in the salons of Paris. Madame de + Sévigné often alludes to it in her Letters. La Fontaine further + contends against the "mere machine" theory in Fable IX., Book XI. +[4] _One of truly royal race_.--John Sobieski.--Translator. At the + time this was written, Sobieski's great victory over the Turks at + Choczim (1673) was resounding throughout Europe, and had made him + King of Poland (1674). Sobieski had previously been a frequent + visitor at the house of Madame de la Sablière, where La Fontaine had + often met him. Sobieski is again alluded to as a guest of Madame de + la Sablière, in Fable XV., Book XII. +[5] _Old Epicurus' rival_.--Descartes.--Translator. + + +II.--THE MAN AND THE ADDER.[6] + + 'You villain!' cried a man who found + An adder coil'd upon the ground, + 'To do a very grateful deed + For all the world, I shall proceed.' + On this the animal perverse + (I mean the snake; + Pray don't mistake + The human for the worse) + Was caught and bagg'd, and, worst of all, + His blood was by his captor to be spilt + Without regard to innocence or guilt. + Howe'er, to show the why, these words let fall + His judge and jailor, proud and tall:-- + 'Thou type of all ingratitude! + All charity to hearts like thine + Is folly, certain to be rued. + Die, then, + Thou foe of men! + Thy temper and thy teeth malign + Shall never hurt a hair of mine.' + The muffled serpent, on his side, + The best a serpent could, replied,-- + 'If all this world's ingrates + Must meet with such a death, + Who from this worst of fates + Could save his breath? + Upon thyself thy law recoils; + I throw myself upon thy broils, + Thy graceless revelling on spoils; + If thou but homeward cast an eye, + Thy deeds all mine will justify. + But strike: my life is in thy hand; + Thy justice, all may understand, + Is but thy interest, pleasure, or caprice:-- + Pronounce my sentence on such laws as these. + But give me leave to tell thee, while I can, + The type of all ingratitude is man.' + By such a lecture somewhat foil'd, + The other back a step recoil'd, + And finally replied,-- + 'Thy reasons are abusive, + And wholly inconclusive. + I might the case decide + Because to me such right belongs; + But let's refer the case of wrongs.' + The snake agreed; they to a cow referr'd it. + Who, being called, came graciously and heard it. + Then, summing up, 'What need,' said she, + 'In such a case, to call on me? + The adder's right, plain truth to bellow; + For years I've nursed this haughty fellow, + Who, but for me, had long ago + Been lodging with the shades below. + For him my milk has had to flow, + My calves, at tender age, to die. + And for this best of wealth, + And often reëstablished health, + What pay, or even thanks, have I? + Here, feeble, old, and worn, alas! + I'm left without a bite of grass. + Were I but left, it might be weather'd, + But, shame to say it, I am tether'd. + And now my fate is surely sadder + Than if my master were an adder, + With brains within the latitude + Of such immense ingratitude. + This, gentles, is my honest view; + And so I bid you both adieu.' + The man, confounded and astonish'd + To be so faithfully admonish'd, + Replied, 'What fools to listen, now, + To this old, silly, dotard cow! + Let's trust the ox.' 'Let's trust,' replied + The crawling beast, well gratified. + So said, so done; + The ox, with tardy pace, came on + And, ruminating o'er the case, + Declared, with very serious face, + That years of his most painful toil + Had clothed with Ceres' gifts our soil-- + Her gifts to men--but always sold + To beasts for higher cost than gold; + And that for this, for his reward, + More blows than thanks return'd his lord; + And then, when age had chill'd his blood, + And men would quell the wrath of Heaven, + Out must be pour'd the vital flood, + For others' sins, all thankless given. + So spake the ox; and then the man:-- + 'Away with such a dull declaimer! + Instead of judge, it is his plan + To play accuser and defamer.' + A tree was next the arbitrator, + And made the wrong of man still greater. + It served as refuge from the heat, + The showers, and storms which madly beat; + It grew our gardens' greatest pride, + Its shadow spreading far and wide, + And bow'd itself with fruit beside: + But yet a mercenary clown + With cruel iron chopp'd it down. + Behold the recompense for which, + Year after year, it did enrich, + With spring's sweet flowers, and autumn's fruits, + And summer's shade, both men and brutes, + And warm'd the hearth with many a limb + Which winter from its top did trim! + Why could not man have pruned and spared, + And with itself for ages shared?-- + Much scorning thus to be convinced, + The man resolved his cause to gain. + Quoth he, 'My goodness is evinced + By hearing this, 'tis very plain;' + Then flung the serpent bag and all, + With fatal force, against a wall. + + So ever is it with the great, + With whom the whim doth always run, + That Heaven all creatures doth create + For their behoof beneath the sun-- + Count they four feet, or two, or none. + If one should dare the fact dispute, + He's straight set down a stupid brute. + Now, grant it so,--such lords among, + What should be done, or said, or sung? + At distance speak, or hold your tongue. + +[6] Bidpaii. + + + + +III.--THE TORTOISE AND THE TWO DUCKS.[7] + + A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, + Tired of her hole, the world would see. + Prone are all such, self-banish'd, to roam-- + Prone are all cripples to abhor their home. + Two ducks, to whom the gossip told + The secret of her purpose bold, + Profess'd to have the means whereby + They could her wishes gratify. + 'Our boundless road,' said they, 'behold! + It is the open air; + And through it we will bear + You safe o'er land and ocean. + Republics, kingdoms, you will view, + And famous cities, old and new; + And get of customs, laws, a notion,-- + Of various wisdom various pieces, + As did, indeed, the sage Ulysses.' + The eager tortoise waited not + To question what Ulysses got, + But closed the bargain on the spot. + A nice machine the birds devise + To bear their pilgrim through the skies.-- + Athwart her mouth a stick they throw: + 'Now bite it hard, and don't let go,' + They say, and seize each duck an end, + And, swiftly flying, upward tend. + It made the people gape and stare + Beyond the expressive power of words, + To see a tortoise cut the air, + Exactly poised between two birds. + 'A miracle,' they cried, 'is seen! + There goes the flying tortoise queen!' + 'The queen!' ('twas thus the tortoise spoke;) + 'I'm truly that, without a joke.' + Much better had she held her tongue + For, opening that whereby she clung, + Before the gazing crowd she fell, + And dash'd to bits her brittle shell. + + Imprudence, vanity, and babble, + And idle curiosity, + An ever-undivided rabble, + Have all the same paternity. + +[7] Bidpaii. + + + + +IV.--THE FISHES AND THE CORMORANT.[8] + + No pond nor pool within his haunt + But paid a certain cormorant + Its contribution from its fishes, + And stock'd his kitchen with good dishes. + Yet, when old age the bird had chill'd, + His kitchen was less amply fill'd. + All cormorants, however grey, + Must die, or for themselves purvey. + But ours had now become so blind, + His finny prey he could not find; + And, having neither hook nor net, + His appetite was poorly met. + What hope, with famine thus infested? + Necessity, whom history mentions, + A famous mother of inventions, + The following stratagem suggested: + He found upon the water's brink + A crab, to which said he, 'My friend, + A weighty errand let me send: + Go quicker than a wink-- + Down to the fishes sink, + And tell them they are doom'd to die; + For, ere eight days have hasten'd by, + Its lord will fish this water dry.' + The crab, as fast as she could scrabble, + Went down, and told the scaly rabble. + What bustling, gathering, agitation! + Straight up they send a deputation + To wait upon the ancient bird. + 'Sir Cormorant, whence hast thou heard + This dreadful news? And what + Assurance of it hast thou got? + How such a danger can we shun? + Pray tell us, what is to be done? + 'Why, change your dwelling-place,' said he, + 'What, change our dwelling! How can we?' + 'O, by your leave, I'll take that care, + And, one by one, in safety bear + You all to my retreat: + The path's unknown + To any feet, + Except my own. + A pool, scoop'd out by Nature's hands, + Amidst the desert rocks and sands, + Where human traitors never come, + Shall save your people from their doom.' + The fish republic swallow'd all, + And, coming at the fellow's call, + Were singly borne away to stock + A pond beneath a lonely rock; + And there good prophet cormorant, + Proprietor and bailiff sole, + From narrow water, clear and shoal, + With ease supplied his daily want, + And taught them, at their own expense, + That heads well stored with common sense + Give no devourers confidence.-- + Still did the change not hurt their case, + Since, had they staid, the human race, + Successful by pernicious art, + Would have consumed as large a part. + What matters who your flesh devours, + Of human or of bestial powers? + In this respect, or wild or tame, + All stomachs seem to me the same: + The odds is small, in point of sorrow, + Of death to-day, or death to-morrow. + +[8] Bidpaii. + + + + +V.--THE BURIER AND HIS COMRADE.[9] + + A close-fist had his money hoarded + Beyond the room his till afforded. + His avarice aye growing ranker, + (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) + He was perplex'd to choose a banker; + For banker he must have, he thought, + Or all his heap would come to nought. + 'I fear,' said he, 'if kept at home, + And other robbers should not come, + It might be equal cause of grief + That I had proved myself the thief.' + The thief! Is to enjoy one's pelf + To rob or steal it from one's self? + My friend, could but my pity reach you, + This lesson I would gladly teach you, + That wealth is weal no longer than + Diffuse and part with it you can: + Without that power, it is a woe. + Would you for age keep back its flow? + Age buried 'neath its joyless snow? + With pains of getting, care of got + Consumes the value, every jot, + Of gold that one can never spare. + To take the load of such a care, + Assistants were not very rare. + The earth was that which pleased him best. + Dismissing thought of all the rest, + He with his friend, his trustiest,-- + A sort of shovel-secretary,-- + Went forth his hoard to bury. + Safe done, a few days afterward, + The man must look beneath the sward-- + When, what a mystery! behold + The mine exhausted of its gold! + Suspecting, with the best of cause, + His friend was privy to his loss, + He bade him, in a cautious mood, + To come as soon as well he could, + For still some other coins he had, + Which to the rest he wish'd to add. + Expecting thus to get the whole, + The friend put back the sum he stole, + Then came with all despatch. + The other proved an overmatch: + Resolved at length to save by spending, + His practice thus most wisely mending, + The total treasure home he carried-- + No longer hoarded it or buried. + Chapfallen was the thief, when gone + He saw his prospects and his pawn. + + From this it may be stated, + That knaves with ease are cheated. + +[9] Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE WOLF AND THE SHEPHERDS.[10] + + A Wolf, replete + With humanity sweet, + (A trait not much suspected,) + On his cruel deeds, + The fruit of his needs, + Profoundly thus reflected. + + 'I'm hated,' said he, + 'As joint enemy, + By hunters, dogs, and clowns. + They swear I shall die, + And their hue and cry + The very thunder drowns. + + 'My brethren have fled, + With price on the head, + From England's merry land. + King Edgar came out, + And put them to rout,[11] + With many a deadly band. + + 'And there's not a squire + But blows up the fire + By hostile proclamation; + Nor a human brat, + Dares cry, but that + Its mother mocks my nation. + + 'And all for what? + For a sheep with the rot, + Or scabby, mangy ass, + Or some snarling cur, + With less meat than fur, + On which I've broken fast! + + 'Well, henceforth I'll strive + That nothing alive + Shall die to quench my thirst; + No lambkin shall fall, + Nor puppy, at all, + To glut my maw accurst. + With grass I'll appease, + Or browse on the trees, + Or die of famine first. + + 'What of carcass warm? + Is it worth the storm + Of universal hate?' + As he spoke these words, + The lords of the herds, + All seated at their bait, + He saw; and observed + The meat which was served + Was nought but roasted lamb! + 'O! O!' said the beast, + 'Repent of my feast-- + All butcher as I am-- + On these vermin mean, + Whose guardians e'en + Eat at a rate quadruple!-- + Themselves and their dogs, + As greedy as hogs, + And I, a wolf, to scruple!' + + 'Look out for your wool + I'll not be a fool, + The very pet I'll eat; + The lamb the best-looking, + Without any cooking, + I'll strangle from the teat; + And swallow the dam, + As well as the lamb, + And stop her foolish bleat. + Old Hornie, too,--rot him,-- + The sire that begot him + Shall be among my meat!' + + Well-reasoning beast! + Were we sent to feast + On creatures wild and tame? + And shall we reduce + The beasts to the use + Of vegetable game? + + Shall animals not + Have flesh-hook or pot, + As in the age of gold? + And we claim the right, + In the pride of our might, + Themselves to have and hold? + O shepherds, that keep + Your folds full of sheep, + The wolf was only wrong, + Because, so to speak, + His jaws were too weak + To break your palings strong. + +[10] Founded upon one of Philibert Hegemon's Fables. +[11] _King Edgar put them to rout._--The English king Edgar (reigned + 959-75) took great pains in hunting and pursuing wolves; "and," says + Hume, "when he found that all that escaped him had taken shelter in + the mountains and forests of Wales, he changed the tribute of money + imposed on the Welsh princes by Athelstan, his predecessor, into an + annual tribute of three hundred heads of wolves; which produced such + diligence in hunting them, that the animal has been no more seen in + this island."--Hume's _England_, vol. i., p. 99, Bell's edit., 1854. + + + + +VII.--THE SPIDER AND THE SWALLOW.[12] + + 'O Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, + By odd obstetrics freed from pain, + Bore Pallas,[13] erst my mortal foe,[14] + Pray listen to my tale of woe. + This Progne[15] takes my lawful prey. + As through the air she cuts her way, + And skims the waves in seeming play. + My flies she catches from my door,-- + 'Yes, _mine_--I emphasize the word,-- + And, but for this accursed bird, + My net would hold an ample store: + For I have woven it of stuff + To hold the strongest strong enough.' + 'Twas thus, in terms of insolence, + Complain'd the fretful spider, once + Of palace-tapestry a weaver, + But then a spinster and deceiver, + That hoped within her toils to bring + Of insects all that ply the wing. + The sister swift of Philomel, + Intent on business, prosper'd well; + In spite of the complaining pest, + The insects carried to her nest-- + Nest pitiless to suffering flies-- + Mouths gaping aye, to gormandize, + Of young ones clamouring, + And stammering, + With unintelligible cries. + The spider, with but head and feet. + And powerless to compete + With wings so fleet, + Soon saw herself a prey. + The swallow, passing swiftly by, + Bore web and all away, + The spinster dangling in the sky! + + Two tables hath our Maker set + For all that in this world are met. + To seats around the first + The skilful, vigilant, and strong are beckon'd: + Their hunger and their thirst + The rest must quell with leavings at the second. + +[12] Abstemius. +[13] _Pallas_.--An allusion to the birth of Pallas, or Minerva--grown and + armed--from the brain of Jove. +[14] _Mortal foe_.--Arachne (whence the spider (_aranea_) has its name) + was a woman of Colopho who challenged Pallas to a trial of skill in + needlework, and, being defeated, hanged herself. She was changed + into a spider: _vide_ Ovid, _Metam._, Book VI., &c. +[15] _Progne_.--The sister of Philomela, turned into a swallow, as + mentioned in note to Fable XV., Book III. + + + + +VIII.--THE PARTRIDGE AND THE COCKS.[16] + + With a set of uncivil and turbulent cocks, + That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks, + A partridge was placed to be rear'd. + Her sex, by politeness revered, + Made her hope, from a gentry devoted to love, + For the courtesy due to the tenderest dove; + Nay, protection chivalric from knights of the yard. + That gentry, however, with little regard + For the honours and knighthood wherewith they were deck'd, + And for the strange lady as little respect, + Her ladyship often most horribly peck'd. + At first, she was greatly afflicted therefor, + But when she had noticed these madcaps at war + With each other, and dealing far bloodier blows, + Consoling her own individual woes,-- + 'Entail'd by their customs,' said she, 'is the shame; + Let us pity the simpletons rather than blame. + Our Maker creates not all spirits the same; + The cocks and the partridges certainly differ, + By a nature than laws of civility stiffer. + Were the choice to be mine, I would finish my life + In society freer from riot and strife. + But the lord of this soil has a different plan; + His tunnel our race to captivity brings, + He throws us with cocks, after clipping our wings. + 'Tis little we have to complain of but man.' + +[16] Aesop. + + + + +IX.--THE DOG WHOSE EARS WERE CROPPED. + + 'What have I done, I'd like to know, + To make my master maim me so? + A pretty figure I shall cut! + From other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut. + Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho! + Would any beast have served you so?' + Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young;-- + The man, whom pity never stung, + Went on to prune him of his ears. + Though Growler whined about his losses, + He found, before the lapse of years, + Himself a gainer by the process; + For, being by his nature prone + To fight his brethren for a bone, + He'd oft come back from sad reverse + With those appendages the worse. + All snarling dogs have ragged ears. + + The less of hold for teeth of foe, + The better will the battle go. + When, in a certain place, one fears + The chance of being hurt or beat, + He fortifies it from defeat. + Besides the shortness of his ears, + See Growler arm'd against his likes + With gorget full of ugly spikes. + A wolf would find it quite a puzzle + To get a hold about his muzzle. + + + + +X.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.[17] + + Two demons at their pleasure share our being-- + The cause of Reason from her homestead fleeing; + No heart but on their altars kindleth flames. + If you demand their purposes and names, + The one is Love, the other is Ambition. + Of far the greater share this takes possession, + For even into love it enters, + Which I might prove; but now my story centres + Upon a shepherd clothed with lofty powers: + The tale belongs to older times than ours. + + A king observed a flock, wide spread + Upon the plains, most admirably fed, + O'erpaying largely, as return'd the years, + Their shepherd's care, by harvests for his shears. + Such pleasure in this man the monarch took,-- + 'Thou meritest,' said he, 'to wield a crook + O'er higher flock than this; and my esteem + O'er men now makes thee judge supreme.' + Behold our shepherd, scales in hand, + Although a hermit and a wolf or two, + Besides his flock and dogs, were all he knew! + Well stock'd with sense, all else upon demand + Would come of course, and did, we understand. + His neighbour hermit came to him to say, + 'Am I awake? Is this no dream, I pray? + You favourite! you great! Beware of kings, + Their favours are but slippery things, + Dear-bought; to mount the heights to which they call + Is but to court a more illustrious fall. + You little know to what this lure beguiles. + My friend, I say, Beware!' The other smiles. + The hermit adds, 'See how + The court has marr'd your wisdom even now! + That purblind traveller I seem to see, + Who, having lost his whip, by strange mistake, + Took for a better one a snake; + But, while he thank'd his stars, brimful of glee, + Outcried a passenger, "God shield your breast! + Why, man, for life, throw down that treacherous pest, + That snake!"--"It is my whip."--"A snake, I say: + What selfish end could prompt my warning, pray? + Think you to keep your prize?"--"And wherefore not? + My whip was worn; I've found another new: + This counsel grave from envy springs in you."-- + The stubborn wight would not believe a jot, + Till warm and lithe the serpent grew, + And, striking with his venom, slew + The man almost upon the spot. + And as to you, I dare predict + That something worse will soon afflict.' + 'Indeed? What worse than death, prophetic hermit?' + 'Perhaps, the compound heartache I may term it.' + And never was there truer prophecy. + Full many a courtier pest, by many a lie + Contrived, and many a cruel slander, + To make the king suspect the judge awry + In both ability and candour. + Cabals were raised, and dark conspiracies, + Of men that felt aggrieved by his decrees. + 'With wealth of ours he hath a palace built,' + Said they. The king, astonish'd at his guilt, + His ill-got riches ask'd to see. + He found but mediocrity, + Bespeaking strictest honesty. + So much for his magnificence. + Anon, his plunder was a hoard immense + Of precious stones that fill'd an iron box + All fast secur'd by half a score of locks. + Himself the coffer oped, and sad surprise + Befell those manufacturers of lies. + The open'd lid disclosed no other matters + Than, first, a shepherd's suit in tatters, + And then a cap and jacket, pipe and crook, + And scrip, mayhap with pebbles from the brook. + 'O treasure sweet,' said he, 'that never drew + The viper brood of envy's lies on you! + I take you back, and leave this palace splendid, + As some roused sleeper doth a dream that's ended. + Forgive me, sire, this exclamation. + In mounting up, my fall I had foreseen, + Yet loved the height too well; for who hath been, + Of mortal race, devoid of all ambition?' + +[17] Bidpaii (_The Hermit_). Also in Lokman. + + + + +XI.--THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE.[18] + + Thrysis--who for his Annette dear + Made music with his flute and voice, + Which might have roused the dead to hear, + And in their silent graves rejoice-- + Sang once the livelong day, + In the flowery month of May, + Up and down a meadow brook, + While Annette fish'd with line and hook. + But ne'er a fish would bite; + So the shepherdess's bait + Drew not a fish to its fate, + From morning dawn till night. + The shepherd, who, by his charming songs, + Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs, + And done with them as he pleased to, + Thought that he could serve the fish so. + 'O citizens,' he sang, 'of this water, + Leave your Naiad in her grot profound; + Come and see the blue sky's lovely daughter, + Who a thousand times more will charm you; + Fear not that her prison will harm you, + Though there you should chance to get bound. + 'Tis only to us men she is cruel: + You she will treat kindly; + A snug little pond she'll find ye, + Clearer than a crystal jewel, + Where you may all live and do well; + Or, if by chance some few + Should find their fate + Conceal'd in the bait, + The happier still are you; + For envied is the death that's met + At the hands of sweet Annette.' + This eloquence not effecting + The object of his wishes, + Since it failed in collecting + The deaf and dumb fishes,-- + His sweet preaching wasted, + His honey'd talk untasted, + A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing + With a fell scoop at the scaly fry, + He caught them; and now, madly flouncing, + At the feet of his Annette they lie! + + O ye shepherds, whose sheep men are, + To trust in reason never dare. + The arts of eloquence sublime + Are not within your calling; + Your fish were caught, from oldest time, + By dint of nets and hauling. + +[18] Aesop. + + + + +XII.--THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND HIS SON.[19] + + Two parrots lived, a sire and son, + On roastings from a royal fire. + Two demigods, a son and sire, + These parrots pension'd for their fun. + Time tied the knot of love sincere: + The sires grew to each other dear; + The sons, in spite of their frivolity, + Grew comrades boon, in joke and jollity; + At mess they mated, hot or cool; + Were fellow-scholars at a school. + Which did the bird no little honour, since + The boy, by king begotten, was a prince. + By nature fond of birds, the prince, too, petted + A sparrow, which delightfully coquetted. + These rivals, both of unripe feather, + One day were frolicking together: + As oft befalls such little folks, + A quarrel follow'd from their jokes. + The sparrow, quite uncircumspect, + Was by the parrot sadly peck'd; + With drooping wing and bloody head, + His master pick'd him up for dead, + And, being quite too wroth to bear it, + In heat of passion kill'd his parrot. + When this sad piece of news he heard, + Distracted was the parent bird. + His piercing cries bespoke his pain; + But cries and tears were all in vain. + The talking bird had left the shore;[20] + In short, he, talking now no more, + Caused such a rage to seize his sire, + That, lighting on the prince in ire, + He put out both his eyes, + And fled for safety as was wise. + The bird a pine for refuge chose, + And to its lofty summit rose; + There, in the bosom of the skies, + Enjoy'd his vengeance sweet, + And scorn'd the wrath beneath his feet. + Out ran the king, and cried, in soothing tone, + 'Return, dear friend; what serves it to bemoan? + Hate, vengeance, mourning, let us both omit. + For me, it is no more than fit + To own, though with an aching heart, + The wrong is wholly on our part. + Th' aggressor truly was my son-- + My son? no; but by Fate the deed was done. + Ere birth of Time, stern Destiny + Had written down the sad decree, + That by this sad calamity + Your child should cease to live, and mine to see. + + 'Let both, then, cease to mourn; + And you, back to your cage return.' + 'Sire king,' replied the bird, + 'Think you that, after such a deed, + I ought to trust your word? + You speak of Fate; by such a heathen creed + Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed? + But whether Fate or Providence divine + Gives law to things below, + 'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine, + Or where wild forests grow, + My days I finish, safely, far + From that which ought your love to mar, + And turn it all to hate. + Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel, + And ever hath been part and parcel + Of this your godlike state. + You would forget the cause of grief; + Suppose I grant you my belief,-- + 'Tis better still to make it true, + By keeping out of sight of you. + Sire king, my friend, no longer wait + For friendship to be heal'd;.... + But absence is the cure of hate, + As 'tis from love the shield.' + +[19] Bidpaii. In Knatchbull's English edition the fable is titled "The + King and the Bird, or the emblem of revengeful persons who are + unworthy of trust." It is also in the Lokman collection. +[20] _The talking bird_, &c.--"Stygia natabat jam frigida + cymba."--VIRG.--Translator. + + + + +XIII.--THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR. + + The lioness had lost her young; + A hunter stole it from the vale; + The forests and the mountains rung + Responsive to her hideous wail. + Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, + Could still the loud lament that rose + From that grim forest queen. + No animal, as you might think, + With such a noise could sleep a wink. + A bear presumed to intervene. + 'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she, + 'And that is all, from me. + The young that through your teeth have pass'd, + In file unbroken by a fast, + Had they nor dam nor sire?' + 'They had them both.' 'Then I desire, + Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, + While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, + To know why you yourself cannot be quiet?' + 'I quiet!--I!--a wretch bereaved! + My only son!--such anguish be relieved! + No, never! All for me below + Is but a life of tears and woe!'-- + 'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so?'-- + 'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.' + + Such language, since the mortal fall, + Has fallen from the lips of all. + Ye human wretches, give your heed; + For your complaints there's little need. + Let him who thinks his own the hardest case, + Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold, + Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold, + And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace. + + + + + +XIV.--THE TWO ADVENTURERS AND THE TALISMAN.[21] + + No flowery path to glory leads. + This truth no better voucher needs + Than Hercules, of mighty deeds. + Few demigods, the tomes of fable + Reveal to us as being able + Such weight of task-work to endure: + In history, I find still fewer. + One such, however, here behold-- + A knight by talisman made bold, + Within the regions of romance, + To seek adventures with the lance. + There rode a comrade at his ride, + And as they rode they both espied + This writing on a post:-- + "Wouldst see, sir valiant knight, + A thing whereof the sight + No errant yet can boast? + Thou hast this torrent but to ford, + And, lifting up, alone, + The elephant of stone + Upon its margin shored, + Upbear it to the mountain's brow, + Round which, aloft before thee now, + The misty chaplets wreathe-- + Not stopping once to breathe." + One knight, whose nostrils bled, + Betokening courage fled, + Cried out, 'What if that current's sweep + Not only rapid be, but deep! + And grant it cross'd,--pray, why encumber + One's arms with that unwieldy lumber, + An elephant of stone? + Perhaps the artist may have done + His work in such a way, that one + Might lug it twice its length; + But then to reach yon mountain top, + And that without a breathing stop, + Were surely past a mortal's strength-- + Unless, indeed, it be no bigger + Than some wee, pigmy, dwarfish figure, + Which one would head a cane withal;-- + And if to this the case should fall, + The adventurer's honour would be small! + This posting seems to me a trap, + Or riddle for some greenish chap; + I therefore leave the whole to you.' + The doubtful reasoner onward hies. + With heart resolved, in spite of eyes, + The other boldly dashes through; + Nor depth of flood nor force + Can stop his onward course. + He finds the elephant of stone; + He lifts it all alone; + Without a breathing stop, + He bears it to the top + Of that steep mount, and seeth there + A high-wall'd city, great and fair. + Out-cried the elephant--and hush'd; + But forth in arms the people rush'd. + A knight less bold had surely fled; + But he, so far from turning back, + His course right onward sped, + Resolved himself to make attack, + And die but with the bravest dead. + Amazed was he to hear that band + Proclaim him monarch of their land, + And welcome him, in place of one + Whose death had left a vacant throne! + In sooth, he lent a gracious ear, + Meanwhile expressing modest fear, + Lest such a load of royal care + Should be too great for him to bear. + And so, exactly, Sixtus[22] said, + When first the pope's tiara press'd his head; + (Though, is it such a grievous thing + To be a pope, or be a king?) + But days were few before they read it, + That with but little truth he said it. + + Blind Fortune follows daring blind. + Oft executes the wisest man, + Ere yet the wisdom of his mind + Is task'd his means or end to scan. + +[21] Bidpaii; also in Lokman. +[22] _Sixtus_.--Pope Sixtus V., who simulated decrepitude to get + elected to the Papal chair, and when elected threw off all disguise + and ruled despotically. + + + + +XV.--THE RABBITS.[23] + +An Address To The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.[24] + + While watching man in all his phases, + And seeing that, in many cases, + He acts just like the brute creation,-- + I've thought the lord of all these races + Of no less failings show'd the traces + Than do his lieges in relation; + And that, in making it, Dame Nature + Hath put a spice in every creature + From off the self-same spirit-stuff-- + Not from the immaterial, + But what we call ethereal, + Refined from matter rough. + An illustration please to hear. + Just on the still frontier + Of either day or night,-- + Or when the lord of light + Reclines his radiant head + Upon his watery bed, + Or when he dons the gear, + To drive a new career,-- + While yet with doubtful sway + The hour is ruled 'twixt night and day,-- + Some border forest-tree I climb; + And, acting Jove, from height sublime + My fatal bolt at will directing, + I kill some rabbit unsuspecting. + The rest that frolick'd on the heath, + Or browsed the thyme with dainty teeth, + With open eye and watchful ear, + Behold, all scampering from beneath, + Instinct with mortal fear. + All, frighten'd simply by the sound, + Hie to their city underground. + But soon the danger is forgot, + And just as soon the fear lives not: + The rabbits, gayer than before, + I see beneath my hand once more! + + Are not mankind well pictured here? + By storms asunder driven, + They scarcely reach their haven, + And cast their anchor, ere + They tempt the same dread shocks + Of tempests, waves, and rocks. + True rabbits, back they frisk + To meet the self-same risk! + + I add another common case. + When dogs pass through a place + Beyond their customary bounds, + And meet with others, curs or hounds, + Imagine what a holiday! + The native dogs, whose interests centre + In one great organ, term'd the venter, + The strangers rush at, bite, and bay; + With cynic pertness tease and worry, + And chase them off their territory. + So, too, do men. Wealth, grandeur, glory, + To men of office or profession, + Of every sort, in every nation, + As tempting are, and sweet, + As is to dogs the refuse meat. + With us, it is a general fact, + One sees the latest-come attack'd, + And plunder'd to the skin. + Coquettes and authors we may view, + As samples of the sin; + For woe to belle or writer new! + The fewer eaters round the cake, + The fewer players for the stake, + The surer each one's self to take. + A hundred facts my truth might test; + But shortest works are always best. + In this I but pursue the chart + Laid down by masters of the art; + And, on the best of themes, I hold, + The truth should never all be told. + Hence, here my sermon ought to close. + O thou, to whom my fable owes + Whate'er it has of solid worth,-- + Who, great by modesty as well as birth, + Hast ever counted praise a pain,-- + Whose leave I could so ill obtain + That here your name, receiving homage, + Should save from every sort of damage + My slender works--which name, well known + To nations, and to ancient Time, + All France delights to own; + Herself more rich in names sublime + Than any other earthly clime;-- + Permit me here the world to teach + That you have given my simple rhyme + The text from which it dares to preach. + +[23] This fable in the original editions has no other title save--"An + Address," &c. Later editors titled it "Les Lapins." +[24] _Rochefoucauld_.--See Fable XI., Book I., also dedicated to the + duke, and the note thereto. + + + + +XVI.--THE MERCHANT, THE NOBLE, THE SHEPHERD, AND THE KING'S SON.[25] + + Four voyagers to parts unknown, + On shore, not far from naked, thrown + By furious waves,--a merchant, now undone, + A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son,-- + Brought to the lot of Belisarius,[26] + Their wants supplied on alms precarious. + To tell what fates, and winds, and weather, + Had brought these mortals all together, + Though from far distant points abscinded, + Would make my tale long-winded. + Suffice to say, that, by a fountain met, + In council grave these outcasts held debate. + The prince enlarged, in an oration set, + Upon the mis'ries that befall the great. + The shepherd deem'd it best to cast + Off thought of all misfortune past, + And each to do the best he could, + In efforts for the common weal. + 'Did ever a repining mood,' + He added, 'a misfortune heal? + Toil, friends, will take us back to Rome, + Or make us here as good a home.' + A shepherd so to speak! a shepherd? What! + As though crown'd heads were not, + By Heaven's appointment fit, + The sole receptacles of wit! + As though a shepherd could be deeper, + In thought or knowledge, than his sheep are! + The three, howe'er, at once approved his plan, + Wreck'd as they were on shores American. + 'I'll teach arithmetic,' the merchant said,-- + Its rules, of course, well seated in his head,-- + 'For monthly pay.' The prince replied, 'And I + Will teach political economy.' + 'And I,' the noble said, 'in heraldry + Well versed, will open for that branch a school--' + As if, beyond a thousand leagues of sea, + That senseless jargon could befool! + 'My friends, you talk like men,' + The shepherd cried, 'but then + The month has thirty days; till they are spent, + Are we upon your faith to keep full Lent? + The hope you give is truly good; + But, ere it comes, we starve for food! + Pray tell me, if you can divine, + On what, to-morrow, we shall dine; + Or tell me, rather, whence we may + Obtain a supper for to-day. + This point, if truth should be confess'd, + Is first, and vital to the rest. + Your science short in this respect, + My hands shall cover the defect.--' + This said, the nearest woods he sought, + And thence for market fagots brought, + Whose price that day, and eke the next, + Relieved the company perplex'd-- + Forbidding that, by fasting, they should go + To use their talents in the world below. + + We learn from this adventure's course, + There needs but little skill to get a living. + Thanks to the gifts of Nature's giving, + Our hands are much the readiest resource. + +[25] Bidpaii, and Lokman. +[26] _Belisarius_.--Belisarius was a great general, who, having + commanded the armies of the emperor, and lost the favour of his + master, fell to such a point of destitution that he asked alms upon + the highways.--La Fontaine. The touching story of the fall of + Belisarius, of which painters and poets have made so much, is + entirely false, as may be seen by consulting Gibbon's "Decline and + Fall of the Roman Empire," chap. xliii.--Translator. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK XI. + + +I.--THE LION.[1] + + Some time ago, a sultan Leopard, + By means of many a rich escheat, + Had many an ox in meadow sweet, + And many a stag in forest, fleet, + And (what a savage sort of shepherd!) + Full many a sheep upon the plains, + That lay within his wide domains. + Not far away, one morn, + There was a lion born. + Exchanged high compliments of state, + As is the custom with the great, + The sultan call'd his vizier Fox, + Who had a deeper knowledge-box, + And said to him, 'This lion's whelp you dread; + What can he do, his father being dead? + Our pity rather let him share, + An orphan so beset with care. + The luckiest lion ever known, + If, letting conquest quite alone, + He should have power to keep his own.' + Sir Renard said, + And shook his head, + 'Such orphans, please your majesty, + Will get no pity out of me. + We ought to keep within his favour, + Or else with all our might endeavour + To thrust him out of life and throne, + Ere yet his claws and teeth are grown. + There's not a moment to be lost. + His horoscope I've cast; + He'll never quarrel to his cost; + But then his friendship fast + Will be to friends of greater worth + Than any lion's e'er on earth. + Try then, my liege, to make it ours, + Or else to check his rising powers.' + The warning fell in vain. + The sultan slept; and beasts and men + Did so, throughout his whole domain, + Till lion's whelp became a lion. + Then came at once the tocsin cry on, + Alarm and fluttering consternation. + The vizier call'd to consultation, + A sigh escaped him as he said, + 'Why all this mad excitement now, + When hope is fled, no matter how? + A thousand men were useless aid,-- + The more, the worse,--since all their power + Would be our mutton to devour. + Appease this lion; sole he doth exceed + The helpers all that on us feed. + And three hath he, that cost him nought-- + His courage, strength, and watchful thought. + Quick send a wether for his use: + If not contented, send him more; + Yes, add an ox, and see you choose + The best our pastures ever bore. + Thus save the rest.'--But such advice + The sultan spurn'd, as cowardice. + And his, and many states beside, + Did ills, in consequence, betide. + However fought this world allied, + The beast maintain'd his power and pride. + If you must let the lion grow, + Don't let him live to be your foe. + +[1] The fable of the young Leopard in the Bidpaii collection resembles + this. + + + + +II.--THE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON OF JUPITER.[2] + +For Monseigneur The Duke Du Maine. + + To Jupiter was born a son,[3] + Who, conscious of his origin, + A godlike spirit had within. + To love, such age is little prone; + Yet this celestial boy + Made love his chief employ, + And was beloved wherever known. + In him both love and reason + Sprang up before their season. + With charming smiles and manners winning, + Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning, + As an Olympian became: + Whatever lights the tender flame,-- + A heart to take and render bliss,-- + Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his. + Jove's son, he should of course inherit + A higher and a nobler spirit + Than sons of other deities. + It seem'd as if by Memory's aid-- + As if a previous life had made + Experiment and hid it-- + He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade, + So perfectly he did it. + Still Jupiter would educate + In manner fitting to his state. + The gods, obedient to his call, + Assemble in their council-hall; + When thus the sire: 'Companionless and sole, + Thus far the boundless universe I roll; + But numerous other offices there are, + Of which I give to younger gods the care. + I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child, + Whose countless altars are already piled. + To merit such regard from all below, + All things the young immortal ought to know.' + No sooner had the Thund'rer ended, + Than each his godlike plan commended; + Nor did the boy too little yearn + His lesson infinite to learn. + Said fiery Mars, 'I take the part + To make him master of the art + Whereby so many heroes high + Have won the honours of the sky.' + 'To teach him music be my care,' + Apollo said, the wise and fair; + 'And mine,' that mighty god replied, + In the Nemaean lion's hide, + 'To teach him to subdue + The vices, an envenom'd crew, + Like Hydras springing ever new. + The foe of weakening luxury, + The boy divine will learn from me + Those rugged paths, so little trod, + That lead to glory man and god.' + Said Cupid, when it came his turn, + 'All things from me the boy may learn.' + + Well spoke the god of love. + What feat of Mars, or Hercules, + Or bright Apollo, lies above + Wit, wing'd by a desire to please? + +[2] This title does not exist in the original editions. It appeared for + the first time in the edition of 1709. The original heading to the + fable is "For Monseigneur," &c. +[3] _To Jupiter was born a son_.--Jupiter here is Louis XIV., and his son + is the Duke du Maine to whom the fable is addressed. The duke was the + son of Louis and Madame de Montespan. He was born at Versailles in + 1670; and when La Fontaine wrote this address to him he was about + eight years old, and the pupil of Madame de Maintenon, his mother's + successor in the affections of the king. + + + + +III.--THE FARMER, THE DOG, AND THE FOX.[4] + + The wolf and fox are neighbours strange: + I would not build within their range. + The fox once eyed with strict regard + From day to day, a poultry-yard; + But though a most accomplish'd cheat, + He could not get a fowl to eat. + Between the risk and appetite, + His rogueship's trouble was not slight. + 'Alas!' quoth he, 'this stupid rabble + But mock me with their constant gabble; + I go and come, and rack my brains, + And get my labour for my pains. + Your rustic owner, safe at home, + Takes all the profits as they come: + He sells his capons and his chicks, + Or keeps them hanging on his hook, + All dress'd and ready for his cook; + But I, adept in art and tricks, + Should I but catch the toughest crower, + Should be brimful of joy, and more. + O Jove supreme! why was I made + A master of the fox's trade? + By all the higher powers, and lower, + I swear to rob this chicken-grower!' + Revolving such revenge within, + When night had still'd the various din, + And poppies seem'd to bear full sway + O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay + Alike secure in slumber deep, + And cocks and hens were fast asleep, + Upon the populous roost he stole. + By negligence,--a common sin,-- + The farmer left unclosed the hole, + And, stooping down, the fox went in. + The blood of every fowl was spill'd, + The citadel with murder fill'd. + The dawn disclosed sad sights, I ween, + When heaps on slaughter'd heaps were seen, + All weltering in their mingled gore. + With horror stricken, as of yore, + The sun well nigh shrunk back again, + To hide beneath the liquid main. + Such sight once saw the Trojan plain, + When on the fierce Atrides'[5] head + Apollo's awful anger fell, + And strew'd the crimson field with dead: + Of Greeks, scarce one was left to tell + The carnage of that night so dread. + Such slaughter, too, around his tent, + The furious Ajax made, one night, + Of sheep and goats, in easy fight; + In anger blindly confident + That by his well-directed blows + Ulysses fell, or some of those + By whose iniquity and lies + That wily rival took the prize. + The fox, thus having Ajax play'd, + Bore off the nicest of the brood,-- + As many pullets as he could,-- + And left the rest, all prostrate laid. + The owner found his sole resource + His servants and his dog to curse. + 'You useless puppy, better drown'd! + Why did you not your 'larum sound?' + 'Why did you not the evil shun,' + Quoth Towser, 'as you might have done? + If you, whose interest was more, + Could sleep and leave an open door, + Think you that I, a dog at best, + Would watch, and lose my precious rest?' + This pithy speech had been, in truth, + Good logic in a master's mouth; + But, coming from a menial's lip, + It even lack'd the lawyership + To save poor Towser from the whip. + + O thou who head'st a family, + (An honour never grudged by me,) + Thou art a patriarch unwise, + To sleep, and trust another's eyes. + Thyself shouldst go to bed the last, + Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast. + I charge you never let a fox see + Your special business done by proxy. + +[4] Abstemius. +[5] _Atrides_.--Atreus, or Atrides, king of Mycenae, and grandfather + of Agamemnon. He caused his brother Theyestes to banquet on the flesh + of his own children. After the repast, proceeds the story, the arms + and heads of the murdered children were produced to convince + Theyestes of what he had feasted on; and at the deed "the sun shrunk + back in his course." + + + + +IV.--THE MOGUL'S DREAM.[6] + + Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, + A vizier in Elysian bliss; + No higher joy could be or seem, + Or purer, than was ever his. + Elsewhere was dream'd of by the same + A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame, + Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he, + The partners of his misery. + Was Minos[7] mock'd? or had these ghosts, + By some mistake, exchanged their posts? + Surprise at this the vision broke; + The dreamer suddenly awoke. + Some mystery suspecting in it, + He got a wise one to explain it. + Replied the sage interpreter, + 'Let not the thing a marvel seem: + There is a meaning in your dream: + If I have aught of knowledge, sir, + It covers counsel from the gods. + While tenanting these clay abodes, + This vizier sometimes gladly sought + The solitude that favours thought; + Whereas, the hermit, in his cot, + Had longings for a vizier's lot.' + To this interpretation dared I add, + The love of solitude I would inspire. + It satisfies the heart's desire + With unencumber'd gifts and glad-- + Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet, + Aye springing up beneath our feet. + O Solitude! whose secret charms I know-- + Retreats that I have loved--when shall I go + To taste, far from a world of din and noise, + Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice? + When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be? + When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar, + And cities with all solitude at war, + Engross entire, and teach their votary + The stealthy movements of the spangled nights, + The names and virtues of those errant lights + Which rule o'er human character and fate? + Or, if not born to purposes so great, + The streams, at least, shall win my heartfelt thanks, + While, in my verse, I paint their flowery banks. + Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread, + Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed, + Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head. + But will my sleep be less a treasure? + Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure? + I vow it, sweet and gentle as the dew, + Within those deserts sacrifices new; + And when the time shall come to yield my breath, + Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death.[8] + +[6] The original story of this fable is traced to Sadi, the Persian poet + and fabulist, who flourished in the twelfth century. La Fontaine + probably found it in the French edition of Sadi's "Gulistan; or the + Garden of Flowers" which was published by André du Ryer in 1634. +[7] _Minos_.--Chief judge in the infernal regions. +[8] For some remarks upon this fable see Translator's Preface. + + + + +V.--THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES.[9] + + The lion, for his kingdom's sake, + In morals would some lessons take, + And therefore call'd, one summer's day, + The monkey, master of the arts, + An animal of brilliant parts, + To hear what he could say. + 'Great king,' the monkey thus began, + 'To reign upon the wisest plan + Requires a prince to set his zeal, + And passion for the public weal, + Distinctly and quite high above + A certain feeling call'd self-love, + The parent of all vices, + In creatures of all sizes. + To will this feeling from one's breast away, + Is not the easy labour of a day; + 'Tis much to moderate its tyrant sway. + By that your majesty august, + Will execute your royal trust, + From folly free and aught unjust.' + 'Give me,' replied the king, + 'Example of each thing.' + 'Each species,' said the sage,-- + 'And I begin with ours,-- + Exalts its own peculiar powers + Above sound reason's gauge. + Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes + As fools and blockheads it describes, + With other compliments as cheap. + But, on the other hand, the same + Self-love inspires a beast to heap + The highest pyramid of fame + For every one that bears his name; + Because he justly deems such praise + The easiest way himself to raise. + 'Tis my conclusion in the case, + That many a talent here below + Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,-- + The art of seeming things to know-- + An art in which perfection lies + More with the ignorant than wise. + + 'Two asses tracking, t'other day, + Of which each in his turn, + Did incense to the other burn, + Quite in the usual way,-- + I heard one to his comrade say, + "My lord, do you not find + The prince of knaves and fools + To be this man, who boasts of mind + Instructed in his schools? + With wit unseemly and profane, + He mocks our venerable race-- + On each of his who lacketh brain + Bestows our ancient surname, ass! + And, with abusive tongue portraying, + Describes our laugh and talk as braying! + These bipeds of their folly tell us, + While thus pretending to excel us." + "No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend, + And let their orators attend. + The braying is their own, but let them be: + We understand each other, and agree, + And that's enough. As for your song, + Such wonders to its notes belong, + The nightingale is put to shame, + And Lambert[10] loses half his fame." + "My lord," the other ass replied, + "Such talents in yourself reside, + Of asses all, the joy and pride." + These donkeys, not quite satisfied + With scratching thus each other's hide, + Must needs the cities visit, + Their fortunes there to raise, + By sounding forth the praise, + Each, of the other's skill exquisite. + Full many, in this age of ours,-- + Not only among asses, + But in the higher classes, + Whom Heaven hath clothed with higher powers,-- + Dared they but do it, would exalt + A simple innocence from fault, + Or virtue common and domestic, + To excellence majestic. + I've said too much, perhaps; but I suppose + Your majesty the secret won't disclose, + Since 'twas your majesty's request that I + This matter should exemplify. + How love of self gives food to ridicule, + I've shown. To prove the balance of my rule, + That justice is a sufferer thereby, + A longer time will take.' + + 'Twas thus the monkey spake. + But my informant does not state, + That e'er the sage did demonstrate + The other point, more delicate. + Perhaps he thought none but a fool + A lion would too strictly school. + +[9] This fable is founded upon the Latin proverb _Asinus asinum fricat_. +[10] _Lambert_.--This was Michael Lambert, master of chamber-music to + Louis XIV., and brother-in-law to the Grand Monarque's other great + music man, J. B. Lulli, who was chapel-music master. + + + + +VI.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX. + + Why Aesop gave the palm of cunning, + O'er flying animals and running, + To Renard Fox, I cannot tell, + Though I have search'd the subject well. + Hath not Sir Wolf an equal skill + In tricks and artifices shown, + When he would do some life an ill, + Or from his foes defend his own? + I think he hath; and, void of disrespect, + I might, perhaps, my master contradict: + Yet here's a case, in which the burrow-lodger + Was palpably, I own, the brightest dodger. + One night he spied within a well, + Wherein the fullest moonlight fell, + What seem'd to him an ample cheese. + Two balanced buckets took their turns + When drawers thence would fill their urns. + Our fox went down in one of these, + By hunger greatly press'd to sup, + And drew the other empty up. + Convinced at once of his mistake, + And anxious for his safety's sake, + He saw his death was near and sure, + Unless some other wretch in need + The same moon's image should allure + To take a bucket and succeed + To his predicament, indeed. + Two days pass'd by, and none approach'd the well; + Unhalting Time, as is his wont, + Was scooping from the moon's full front, + And as he scoop'd Sir Renard's courage fell. + His crony wolf, of clamorous maw, + Poor fox at last above him saw, + And cried, 'My comrade, look you here! + See what abundance of good cheer! + A cheese of most delicious zest! + Which Faunus must himself have press'd, + Of milk by heifer Io given. + If Jupiter were sick in heaven, + The taste would bring his appetite. + I've taken, as you see, a bite; + But still for both there is a plenty. + Pray take the bucket that I've sent ye; + Come down, and get your share.' + Although, to make the story fair, + The fox had used his utmost care, + The wolf (a fool to give him credit) + Went down because his stomach bid it-- + And by his weight pull'd up + Sir Renard to the top. + We need not mock this simpleton, + For we ourselves such deeds have done. + Our faith is prone to lend its ear + To aught which we desire or fear. + + + + +VII.--THE PEASANT OF THE DANUBE.[11] + + To judge no man by outside view, + Is good advice, though not quite new. + Some time ago a mouse's fright + Upon this moral shed some light. + I have for proof at present, + With, Aesop and good Socrates,[12] + Of Danube's banks a certain peasant, + Whose portrait drawn to life, one sees, + By Marc Aurelius, if you please. + The first are well known, far and near: + I briefly sketch the other here. + The crop upon his fertile chin + Was anything but soft or thin; + Indeed, his person, clothed in hair, + Might personate an unlick'd bear. + Beneath his matted brow there lay + An eye that squinted every way; + A crooked nose and monstrous lips he bore, + And goat-skin round his trunk he wore, + With bulrush belt. And such a man as this is + Was delegate from towns the Danube kisses, + When not a nook on earth there linger'd + By Roman avarice not finger'd. + Before the senate thus he spoke:-- + 'Romans and senators who hear, + I, first of all, the gods invoke, + The powers whom mortals justly fear, + That from my tongue there may not fall + A word which I may need recall. + Without their aid there enters nought + To human hearts of good or just: + Whoever leaves the same unsought, + Is prone to violate his trust; + The prey of Roman avarice, + Ourselves are witnesses of this. + Rome, by our crimes, our scourge has grown, + More than by valour of her own. + Romans, beware lest Heaven, some day, + Exact for all our groans the pay, + And, arming us, by just reverse, + To do its vengeance, stern, but meet, + Shall pour on you the vassal's curse, + And place your necks beneath our feet! + And wherefore not? For are you better + Than hundreds of the tribes diverse + Who clank the galling Roman fetter? + What right gives you the universe? + Why come and mar our quiet life? + We till'd our acres free from strife; + In arts our hands were skill'd to toil, + As well as o'er the generous soil. + What have you taught the Germans brave? + Apt scholars, had but they + Your appetite for sway, + They might, instead of you, enslave, + Without your inhumanity. + That which your praetors perpetrate + On us, as subjects of your state, + My powers would fail me to relate. + Profaned their altars and their rites, + The pity of your gods our lot excites. + Thanks to your representatives, + In you they see but shameless thieves, + Who plunder gods as well as men. + By sateless avarice insane, + The men that rule our land from this + Are like the bottomless abyss. + To satisfy their lust of gain, + Both man and nature toil in vain. + Recall them; for indeed we will + Our fields for such no longer till. + From all our towns and plains we fly + For refuge to our mountains high. + We quit our homes and tender wives, + To lead with savage beasts our lives-- + No more to welcome into day + A progeny for Rome a prey. + And as to those already born-- + Poor helpless babes forlorn!-- + We wish them short career in time: + Your praetors force us to the crime. + Are they our teachers? Call them home,-- + They teach but luxury and vice,-- + Lest Germans should their likes become, + In fell remorseless avarice. + Have we a remedy at Rome? + I'll tell you here how matters go. + Hath one no present to bestow, + No purple for a judge or so, + The laws for him are deaf and dumb; + Their minister has aye in store + A thousand hindrances or more. + I'm sensible that truths like these + Are not the things to please. + I've done. Let death avenge you here + Of my complaint, a little too sincere.' + + He said no more; but all admired + The thought with which his speech was fired; + The eloquence and heart of oak + With which the prostrate savage spoke. + Indeed, so much were all delighted, + As due revenge, the man was knighted. + The praetors were at once displaced, + And better men the office graced. + The senate, also, by decree, + Besought a copy of the speech, + Which might to future speakers be + A model for the use of each. + Not long, howe'er, had Rome the sense + To entertain such eloquence. + +[11] La Fontaine got the historical story embodied in this fable from + Marcus Aurelius (as he acknowledges), probably through François + Cassandre's "Parallèles Historiques," 1676, and the translation + (from the Spanish of Guevara) titled the "Horloge des Princes," + which Grise and De Heberay published at Lyons in 1575. +[12] Aesop and Socrates are usually represented as very ugly. + + + + +VIII.--THE OLD MAN AND THE THREE YOUNG ONES.[13] + + A man was planting at fourscore. + Three striplings, who their satchels wore, + 'In building,' cried, 'the sense were more; + But then to plant young trees at that age! + The man is surely in his dotage. + Pray, in the name of common sense, + What fruit can he expect to gather + Of all this labour and expense? + Why, he must live like Lamech's father! + What use for thee, grey-headed man, + To load the remnant of thy span + With care for days that never can be thine? + Thyself to thought of errors past resign. + Long-growing hope, and lofty plan, + Leave thou to us, to whom such things belong.' + 'To you!' replied the old man, hale and strong; + 'I dare pronounce you altogether wrong. + The settled part of man's estate + Is very brief, and comes full late. + To those pale, gaming sisters trine, + Your lives are stakes as well as mine. + While so uncertain is the sequel, + Our terms of future life are equal; + For none can tell who last shall close his eyes + Upon the glories of these azure skies; + Nor any moment give us, ere it flies, + Assurance that another such shall rise, + But my descendants, whosoe'er they be, + Shall owe these cooling fruits and shades to me. + Do you acquit yourselves, in wisdom's sight, + From ministering to other hearts delight? + Why, boys, this is the fruit I gather now; + And sweeter never blush'd on bended bough. + Of this, to-morrow, I may take my fill; + Indeed, I may enjoy its sweetness till + I see full many mornings chase the glooms + From off the marble of your youthful tombs.' + The grey-beard man was right. One of the three, + Embarking, foreign lands to see, + Was drown'd within the very port. + In quest of dignity at court, + Another met his country's foe, + And perish'd by a random blow. + The third was kill'd by falling from a tree + Which he himself would graft. The three + Were mourn'd by him of hoary head, + Who chisel'd on each monument-- + On doing good intent-- + The things which we have said. + +[13] Abstemius. + + + + +IX.--THE MICE AND THE OWL. + + Beware of saying, 'Lend an ear,' + To something marvellous or witty. + To disappoint your friends who hear, + Is possible, and were a pity. + But now a clear exception see, + Which I maintain a prodigy-- + A thing which with the air of fable, + Is true as is the interest-table. + A pine was by a woodman fell'd, + Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree + An owl had for his palace held-- + A bird the Fates[14] had kept in fee, + Interpreter to such as we. + Within the caverns of the pine, + With other tenants of that mine, + Were found full many footless mice, + But well provision'd, fat, and nice. + The bird had bit off all their feet, + And fed them there with heaps of wheat. + That this owl reason'd, who can doubt? + When to the chase he first went out, + And home alive the vermin brought, + Which in his talons he had caught, + The nimble creatures ran away. + Next time, resolved to make them stay, + He cropp'd their legs, and found, with pleasure, + That he could eat them at his leisure; + It were impossible to eat + Them all at once, did health permit. + His foresight, equal to our own, + In furnishing their food was shown. + Now, let Cartesians, if they can, + Pronounce this owl a mere machine. + Could springs originate the plan + Of maiming mice when taken lean, + To fatten for his soup-tureen? + If reason did no service there, + I do not know it anywhere. + Observe the course of argument: + These vermin are no sooner caught than gone: + They must be used as soon, 'tis evident; + But this to all cannot be done. + And then, for future need, + I might as well take heed. + Hence, while their ribs I lard, + I must from their elopement guard. + But how?--A plan complete!-- + I'll clip them of their feet! + Now, find me, in your human schools, + A better use of logic's tools! + Upon your faith, what different art of thought + Has Aristotle or his followers taught?[15] + +[14] _A bird the Fates_, &c.--The owl was the bird of Atropos, the + most terrible of the Fates, to whom was entrusted the task of + cutting the thread of life. +[15] La Fontaine, in a note, asserts that the subject of this fable, + however marvellous, was a fact which was actually observed. His + commentators, however, think the observers must have been in some + measure mistaken, and I agree with them.--Translator. In Fable I., + Book X., La Fontaine also argues that brutes have reasoning + faculties. + + + + +EPILOGUE. + + 'Tis thus, by crystal fount, my muse hath sung, + Translating into heavenly tongue + Whatever came within my reach, + From hosts of beings borr'wing nature's speech. + Interpreter of tribes diverse, + I've made them actors on my motley stage; + For in this boundless universe + There's none that talketh, simpleton or sage, + More eloquent at home than in my verse. + If some should find themselves by me the worse, + And this my work prove not a model true, + To that which I at least rough-hew, + Succeeding hands will give the finish due. + Ye pets of those sweet sisters nine, + Complete the task that I resign; + The lessons give, which doubtless I've omitted, + With wings by these inventions nicely fitted! + But you're already more than occupied; + For while my muse her harmless work hath plied, + All Europe to our sovereign yields,[16] + And learns, upon her battle-fields, + To bow before the noblest plan + That ever monarch form'd, or man. + Thence draw those sisters themes sublime, + With power to conquer Fate and Time.[17] + +[16] _All Europe to our sovereign yields_.--An allusion to the + conclusion of the peace of Nimeguen by Louis XIV., in 1678. Louis to + some extent negotiated the treaty of this peace in person, and + having bought the support of the English king, Charles II. (as shown + in the note to Fable XVIII., Book VII.) the terms of the treaty were + almost his own. The glory of the achievement procured for Louis the + surname of "le Grand." The king's praises upon this account are + further sounded by La Fontaine in Fable X., Book XII. + +[17] With the Epilogue to the XIth Book La Fontaine concluded his issue + of Fables up to 1678-9. The XIIth and last Book was not added till + 1694, the year before the poet's death. See Translator's Preface. + + + * * * * * + + +BOOK XII. + + +I.--THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES. + +To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.[1] + + Dear prince, a special favourite of the skies, + Pray let my incense from your altars rise. + With these her gifts, if rather late my muse, + My age and labours must her fault excuse. + My spirit wanes, while yours beams on the sight + At every moment with augmented light: + It does not go--it runs,--it seems to fly; + And he from whom it draws its traits so high, + In war a hero,[2] burns to do the same. + No lack of his that, with victorious force, + His giant strides mark not his glory's course: + Some god retains: our sovereign I might name; + Himself no less than conqueror divine, + Whom one short month made master of the Rhine. + It needed then upon the foe to dash; + Perhaps, to-day, such generalship were rash. + But hush,--they say the Loves and Smiles + Abhor a speech spun out in miles; + And of such deities your court + Is constantly composed, in short. + Not but that other gods, as meet, + There hold the highest seat: + For, free and lawless as the rest may seem, + Good Sense and Reason bear a sway supreme. + Consult these last about the case + Of certain men of Grecian race, + Who, most unwise and indiscreet, + Imbibed such draughts of poison sweet, + As changed their form, and brutified. + Ten years the heroes at Ulysses' side + Had been the sport of wind and tide. + At last those powers of water + The sea-worn wanderers bore + To that enchanted shore + Where Circe reign'd, Apollo's daughter. + She press'd upon their thirsty lips + Delicious drink, but full of bane: + Their reason, at the first light sips, + Laid down the sceptre of its reign. + Then took their forms and features + The lineaments of various creatures. + To bears and lions some did pass, + Or elephants of ponderous mass; + While not a few, I ween, + In smaller forms were seen,-- + In such, for instance, as the mole. + Of all, the sage Ulysses sole + Had wit to shun that treacherous bowl. + With wisdom and heroic mien, + And fine address, he caused the queen + To swallow, on her wizard throne, + A poison somewhat like her own. + A goddess, she to speak her wishes dared, + And hence, at once, her love declared. + Ulysses, truly too judicious + To lose a moment so propitious, + Besought that Circe would restore + His Greeks the shapes that first they wore. + Replied the nymph, 'But will they take them back? + Go make the proffer to the motley pack.' + Ulysses ran, both glad and sure: + 'That poisonous cup,' cried he 'hath yet its cure; + And here I bring what ends your shame and pain. + Will you, dear friends, be men again? + Pray speak, for speech is now restored.' + 'No,' said the lion,--and he roar'd,-- + 'My head is not so void of brains! + Renounce shall I my royal gains? + I've claws and teeth to tear my foes to bits, + And, more than that, I'm king. + Am I such gifts away to fling, + To be but one of Ithaca's mere cits? + In rank and file perhaps I might bear arms. + In such a change I see no charms.'-- + Ulysses passes to the bear:-- + 'How changed, my friend, from what you were! + How sightly once! how ugly now!' + 'Humph! truly how?' + Growl'd Bruin in his way-- + 'How else than as a bear should be, I pray? + Who taught your stilted highness to prefer + One form to every other, sir? + Doth yours possess peculiar powers + The merits to decide, of ours? + With all respect, I shall appeal my case + To some sweet beauty of the bearish race. + Please pass it by, if you dislike my face. + I live content, and free from care; + And, well remembering what we were, + I say it, plain and flat, + I'll change to no such state as that.' + Next to the wolf the princely Greek + With flattering hope began to speak:-- + 'Comrade, I blush, I must confess, + To hear a gentle shepherdess + Complaining to the echoing rocks + Of that outrageous appetite + Which drives you, night by night, + To prey upon her flocks. + You had been proud to guard her fold + In your more honest life of old. + Pray quit this wolfship, now you can, + And leave the woods an honest man.' + 'But is there one?' the wolf replied: + 'Such man, I own, I never spied. + You treat me as a ravenous beast, + But what are you? To say the least, + You would yourself have eat the sheep, + Which, eat by me, the village weep. + Now, truly, on your faith confess, + Should I, as man, love flesh the less? + Why, man, not seldom, kills his very brother; + What, then, are you but wolves to one another? + Now, everything with care to scan, + And rogue with rogue to rate, + I'd better be a wolf than man, + And need not change my state.' + Thus all did wise Ulysses try, + And got from all the same reply, + As well from great as small. + Wild liberty was dear to all; + To follow lawless appetite + They counted their supreme delight. + All banish'd from their thought and care + The glorious praise of actions fair. + Where passion led, they thought their course was free; + Self-bound, their chains they could not see. + + Prince, I had wish'd for you a theme to choose, + Where I might mingle pleasantry with use; + And I should meet with your approving voice, + No doubt, if I could make such choice. + At last, Ulysses' crew + Were offer'd to my view. + And there are like them not a few, + Who may for penalty await + Your censure and your hate.[3] + +[1] _Duke de Bourgogne_.--Louis Duke de Bourgogne (Burgundy), grandson + of Louis XIV. He was the son of Louis de Bourbon, the Dauphin, to + whom La Fontaine had dedicated the first collection of his Fables. + (See note, Dedication of Book I.) He was born in 1682, and at the + time of this dedication was about twelve years of age, and the pupil + of Fénélon. See Translator's Preface. +[2] _In war a hero_.--Louis, the Dauphin, father of the prince + addressed. The Dauphin was then in command of the army in Germany. +[3] This fable was first printed in the _Mercure Galant_, December, + 1690, where it had a few additional lines, which the author cut out + on republication in his XIIth Book. + + + + +II.--THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.[4] + +To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne. + + Contemporary with a sparrow tame + There lived a cat; from tenderest age, + Of both, the basket and the cage + Had household gods the same. + The bird's sharp beak full oft provoked the cat, + Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, + His wee friend sparing with a merry laugh, + Not punishing his faults by half. + In short, he scrupled much the harm, + Should he with points his ferule arm. + The sparrow, less discreet than he, + With dagger beak made very free. + Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, + Excused the warmth with which he play'd: + For 'tis full half of friendship's art + To take no joke in serious part. + Familiar since they saw the light, + Mere habit kept their friendship good; + Fair play had never turn'd to fight, + Till, of their neighbourhood, + Another sparrow came to greet + Old Ratto grave and saucy Pete. + Between the birds a quarrel rose, + And Ratto took his side. + 'A pretty stranger, with such blows + To beat our friend!' he cried. + 'A neighbour's sparrow eating ours! + Not so, by all the feline powers.' + And quick the stranger he devours. + 'Now, truly,' saith Sir Cat, + I know how sparrows taste by that. + Exquisite, tender, delicate!' + This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.-- + But hence what moral can I bring? + For, lacking that important thing, + A fable lacks its finishing: + I seem to see of one some trace, + But still its shadow mocks my chase. + Yours, prince, it will not thus abuse: + For you such sports, and not my muse. + In wit, she and her sisters eight + Would fail to match you with a mate. + +[4] The story of this fable seems to come from a fable by Furetière, + titled "The Dog and the Cat." Antony Furetière was more famous as a + lexicographer, and through his angry contention with the French + Academy on the subject of his Dictionary, than as a poet. He lived + between 1620 and 1688. + + + + +III.--THE MISER AND THE MONKEY.[5] + + A man amass'd. The thing, we know, + Doth often to a frenzy grow. + No thought had he but of his minted gold-- + Stuff void of worth when unemploy'd, I hold. + Now, that this treasure might the safer be, + Our miser's dwelling had the sea + As guard on every side from every thief. + With pleasure, very small in my belief, + But very great in his, he there + Upon his hoard bestow'd his care. + No respite came of everlasting + Recounting, calculating, casting; + For some mistake would always come + To mar and spoil the total sum. + A monkey there, of goodly size,-- + And than his lord, I think, more wise,-- + Some doubloons from the window threw, + And render'd thus the count untrue. + The padlock'd room permitted + Its owner, when he quitted, + To leave his money on the table. + One day, bethought this monkey wise + To make the whole a sacrifice + To Neptune on his throne unstable. + I could not well award the prize + Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure + Derived from that devoted treasure. + With some, Don Bertrand, would the honour gain, + For reasons it were tedious to explain. + One day, then, left alone, + That animal, to mischief prone, + Coin after coin detach'd, + A gold jacobus snatch'd, + Or Portuguese doubloon, + Or silver ducatoon, + Or noble, of the English rose, + And flung with all his might + Those discs, which oft excite + The strongest wishes mortal ever knows. + Had he not heard, at last, + The turning of his master's key, + The money all had pass'd + The same short road to sea; + And not a single coin but had been pitch'd + Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd. + + Now, God preserve full many a financier + Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here! + +[5] The story is traced to the episode in Tristan L'Hermite's romance + titled "Le Page disgracie," treating of "The Monkey and Master + Robert." L'Hermite lived 1601-1655. + + + + +IV.--THE TWO GOATS.[6] + + Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, + To follow fortune they've aspired. + To pasturage they're wont to roam + Where men are least disposed to come. + If any pathless place there be, + Or cliff, or pendent precipice, + 'Tis there they cut their capers free: + There's nought can stop these dames, I wis. + Two goats, thus self-emancipated,-- + The white that on their feet they wore + Look'd back to noble blood of yore,-- + Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, + And sought the hills, as it would seem: + In search of luck, by luck they met + Each other at a mountain stream. + As bridge a narrow plank was set, + On which, if truth must be confest, + Two weasels scarce could go abreast. + And then the torrent, foaming white, + As down it tumbled from the height, + Might well those Amazons affright. + But maugre such a fearful rapid, + Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid! + I seem to see our Louis Grand[7] + And Philip IV. advance + To the Isle of Conference,[8] + That lies 'twixt Spain and France, + Each sturdy for his glorious land. + Thus each of our adventurers goes, + Till foot to foot, and nose to nose, + Somewhere about the midst they meet, + And neither will an inch retreat. + For why? they both enjoy'd the glory + Of ancestors in ancient story. + The one, a goat of peerless rank, + Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, + The Cyclop gave to Galataea;[9] + The other famous Amalthaea,[10] + The goat that suckled Jupiter, + As some historians aver. + For want of giving back, in troth, + A common fall involved them both.-- + A common accident, no doubt, + On Fortune's changeful route.[11] + +[6] This and several others of the fables in the XIIth Book are taken + from the "Thèmes" of the Duke de Bourgogne, afterwards published + in Robert's "Fables Inédites." These "Thèmes," were the joint + composition of Fénélon, his pupil the infant Duke de Bourgogne, and + La Fontaine, and were first used in the education of the Duke. + Fénélon suggested the story, the pupil put it into prose, and La + Fontaine versified it. La Fontaine is eulogistic of the young Duke's + "wit" in putting these "Thèmes" into prose in Fable IX., Book XII. +[7] _Louis Grand_.--Louis XIV. See note to Epilogue of Book XI. +[8] _The Isle of Conference_.--The Pheasants' Isle in the river + Bidassoa, which separates France and Spain. It is called the Isle of + Conference on account of several of the Conferences, leading to + Treaties, &c., between the two countries, having been held there. +[9] _The Cyclop gave to Galataea_.--Polyphemus and Galataea: + _vide_ Theocritus, _Idyl_ XI. +[10] _Amalthaea_.--Another story is that Amalthaea was not a goat, + but a nymph of Crete, who fed the infant Jupiter with goat's milk. +[11] In the original the last lines differ from those in the version of + La Fontaine's "Oeuvres Posthumes," published in 1696, the year after + the poet's death. Indeed, variations of text are common to most of + the fables of the XIIth Book, on making the same comparison, viz., + of the first edition, 1694, and the edition in the "Oeuvres + Posthumes." + + + + +V.--THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE. + +To Monseigneur, The Duke De Bourgogne; Who Had Requested Of M. De La +Fontaine A Fable Which Should Be Called "The Cat And The Mouse." + + To please a youthful prince, whom Fame + A temple in my writings vows, + What fable answers to the name, + "The Cat and Mouse?" + Shall I in verse the fair present, + With softest look but hard intent, + Who serves the hearts her charms entice + As does the cat its captive mice? + Or make my subject Fortune's sport? + She treats the friends that make her court, + And follow closest her advice, + As treats the cat the silly mice. + + Shall I for theme a king select + Who sole, of all her favourites, + Commands the goddess's respect? + For whom she from her wheel alights. + Who, never stay'd by foes a trice, + Whene'er they block his way, + Can with the strongest play + As doth the cat with mice! + Insensibly, while casting thus about, + Quite anxious for my subject's sake, + A theme I meet, and, if I don't mistake, + Shall spoil it, too, by spinning out. + The prince will treat my muse, for that, + As mice are treated by the cat. + + A young and inexperienced mouse + Had faith to try a veteran cat,[12]-- + Raminagrobis, death to rat, + And scourge of vermin through the house,-- + Appealing to his clemency + With reasons sound and fair. + 'Pray let me live; a mouse like me + It were not much to spare. + Am I, in such a family, + A burden? Would my largest wish + Our wealthy host impoverish? + A grain of wheat will make my meal; + A nut will fat me like a seal. + I'm lean at present; please to wait, + And for your heirs reserve my fate.' + The captive mouse thus spake. + Replied the captor, 'You mistake; + To me shall such a thing be said? + Address the deaf! address the dead! + A cat to pardon!--old one too! + Why, such a thing I never knew. + Thou victim of my paw, + By well-establish'd law, + Die as a mousling should, + And beg the sisterhood + Who ply the thread and shears, + To lend thy speech their ears. + Some other like repast + My heirs may find, or fast.' + He ceased. The moral's plain. + Youth always hopes its ends to gain, + Believes all spirits like its own: + Old age is not to mercy prone. + +[12] The story is from Abstemius. + + + + +VI.--THE SICK STAG.[13] + + A stag, where stags abounded, + Fell sick, and was surrounded + Forthwith by comrades kind, + All pressing to assist, + Or see, their friend, at least, + And ease his anxious mind-- + An irksome multitude. + 'Ah, sirs!' the sick was fain to cry, + 'Pray leave me here to die, + As others do, in solitude. + Pray, let your kind attentions cease, + Till death my spirit shall release.' + But comforters are not so sent: + On duty sad full long intent, + When Heaven pleased, they went: + But not without a friendly glass; + That is to say, they cropp'd the grass + And leaves which in that quarter grew, + From which the sick his pittance drew. + By kindness thus compell'd to fast, + He died for want of food at last. + The men take off no trifling dole + Who heal the body, or the soul. + Alas the times! do what we will, + They have their payment, cure or kill. + +[13] "The Gazelle" in Lokman's Fables. + + + + +VII.--THE BAT, THE BUSH, AND THE DUCK.[14] + + A bush, duck, and bat, having found that in trade, + Confined to their country, small profits were made, + Into partnership enter'd to traffic abroad, + Their purse, held in common, well guarded from fraud. + Their factors and agents, these trading allies + Employ'd where they needed, as cautious as wise: + Their journals and ledgers, exact and discreet, + Recorded by items expense and receipt. + All throve, till an argosy, on its way home, + With a cargo worth more than their capital sum, + In attempting to pass through a dangerous strait, + Went down with its passengers, sailors, and freight, + To enrich those enormous and miserly stores, + From Tartarus distant but very few doors. + Regret was a thing which the firm could but feel; + Regret was the thing they were slow to reveal; + For the least of a merchant well knows that the weal + Of his credit requires him his loss to conceal. + But that which our trio unluckily suffer'd + Allow'd no repair, and of course was discover'd. + No money nor credit, 'twas plain to be seen + Their heads were now threaten'd with bonnets of green;[15] + And, the facts of the case being everywhere known, + No mortal would open his purse with a loan. + Debts, bailiffs, and lawsuits, and creditors gruff, + At the crack of day knocking, + (Importunity shocking!) + Our trio kept busy enough. + The bush, ever ready and on the alert, + Now caught all the people it could by the skirt:-- + 'Pray, sir, be so good as to tell, if you please, + If you know whereabout the old villanous seas + Have hid all our goods which they stole t' other night. + The diver, to seek them, went down out of sight. + The bat didn't venture abroad in the day, + And thus of the bailiffs kept out of the way. + + Full many insolvents, not bats, to hide so, + Nor bushes, nor divers, I happen to know, + But even grand seigniors, quite free from all cares, + By virtue of brass, and of private backstairs. + +[14] Aesop. +[15] _With bonnets of green._--Such as insolvent debtors were anciently + required to wear, in France, after making cession of their effects, + in order to escape imprisonment.--Translator. The custom also + prevailed in Italy. + + + + +VIII.--THE QUARREL OF THE DOGS AND CATS, AND THAT OF THE CATS AND MICE. + + Enthroned by an eternal law, + Hath Discord reign'd throughout the universe. + In proof, I might from this our planet draw + A thousand instances diverse. + Within the circle of our view, + This queen hath subjects not a few. + Beginning with the elements, + It is astonishing to see + How they have stood, to all intents, + As wrestlers from eternity. + Besides these four great potentates, + Old stubborn earth, fire, flood, and air, + How many other smaller states + Are waging everlasting war! + In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, + Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes; + Decrees, promulged in manner solemn, + Had pacified their ancient feuds. + Their lord had so arranged their meals and labours, + And threaten'd quarrels with the whip, + That, living in sweet cousinship, + They edified their wondering neighbours. + At last, some dainty plate to lick, + Or profitable bone to pick, + Bestow'd by some partiality, + Broke up the smooth equality. + The side neglected were indignant + At such a slight malignant. + Some writers make the whole dispute begin + With favours to a bitch while lying in. + Whate'er the cause, the altercation + Soon grew a perfect conflagration. + In hall and kitchen, dog and cat + Took sides with zeal for this or that. + New rules upon the cat side falling + Produced tremendous caterwauling. + Their advocate, against such rules as these, + Advised recurrence to the old decrees. + They search'd in vain, for, hidden in a nook, + The thievish mice had eaten up the book. + Another quarrel, in a trice, + Made many sufferers with the mice; + For many a veteran whisker'd-face, + With craft and cunning richly stored, + And grudges old against the race, + Now watch'd to put them to the sword; + Nor mourn'd for this that mansion's lord. + + Resuming our discourse, we see + No creature from opponents free. + 'Tis nature's law for earth and sky; + 'Twere vain to ask the reason why; + God's works are good,--I cannot doubt it,-- + And that is all I know about it. + I know, however, that the cause + Which hath our human quarrels brought, + Three quarters of the time, is nought + That will be, is, or ever was. + Ye veterans, in state and church, + At threescore years, indeed, + It seems there still is need + To give you lessons with the birch! + + + + +IX.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX. + + Whence comes it that there liveth not + A man contented with his lot? + Here's one who would a soldier be, + Whom soldiers all with envy see. + + A fox to be a wolf once sigh'd. + With disappointments mortified, + Who knows but that, his wolfship cheap, + The wolf himself would be a sheep? + + I marvel that a prince[16] is able, + At eight, to put the thing in fable; + While I, beneath my seventy snows, + Forge out, with toil and time, + The same in labour'd rhyme, + Less striking than his prose. + + The traits which in his work we meet, + A poet, it must be confess'd, + Could not have half so well express'd: + He bears the palm as more complete. + 'Tis mine to sing it to the pipe; + But I expect that when the sands + Of Time have made my hero ripe, + He'll put a trumpet in my hands. + + My mind but little doth aspire + To prophecy; but yet it reads + On high, that soon his glorious deeds + Full many Homers will require-- + Of which this age produces few. + But, bidding mysteries adieu, + I try my powers upon this fable new. + + 'Dear wolf,' complain'd a hungry fox, + 'A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, + Is all I get by toil or trick: + Of such a living I am sick. + With far less risk, you've better cheer; + A house you need not venture near, + But I must do it, spite of fear. + Pray, make me master of your trade. + And let me by that means be made + The first of all my race that took + Fat mutton to his larder's hook: + Your kindness shall not be repented.' + The wolf quite readily consented. + 'I have a brother, lately dead: + Go fit his skin to yours,' he said. + 'Twas done; and then the wolf proceeded: + 'Now mark you well what must be done, + The dogs that guard the flock to shun.' + The fox the lessons strictly heeded. + At first he boggled in his dress; + But awkwardness grew less and less, + Till perseverance gave success. + His education scarce complete, + A flock, his scholarship to greet, + Came rambling out that way. + The new-made wolf his work began, + Amidst the heedless nibblers ran, + And spread a sore dismay. + Such terror did Patroclus[17] spread, + When on the Trojan camp and town, + Clad in Achilles' armour dread, + He valiantly came down. + The matrons, maids, and aged men + All hurried to the temples then.-- + The bleating host now surely thought + That fifty wolves were on the spot: + Dog, shepherd, sheep, all homeward fled, + And left a single sheep in pawn, + Which Renard seized when they were gone. + But, ere upon his prize he fed, + There crow'd a cock near by, and down + The scholar threw his prey and gown, + That he might run that way the faster-- + Forgetting lessons, prize and master. + How useless is the art of seeming! + Reality, in every station, + Is through its cloak at all times gleaming, + And bursting out on fit occasion. + + Young prince, to your unrivall'd wit + My muse gives credit, as is fit, + For what she here hath labour'd with-- + The subject, characters, and pith. + +[16] A prince.--The infant Duke de Bourgogne. See Note to Table IV., Book + XII. The context shows that La Fontaine was over seventy when this + fable was written. +[17] _Patroclus_.--In the Trojan war, when Achilles, on his difference + with Agamemnon, remained inactive in his tent, Patroclus, his + friend, put on Achilles' "armour dread," and so caused dire alarm to + the Trojans, who thought that Achilles had at last taken the field. + + + + +X.--THE LOBSTER AND HER DAUGHTER.[18] + + The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, + To gain their ends back foremost go. + It is the rower's art; and those + Commanders who mislead their foes, + Do often seem to aim their sight + Just where they don't intend to smite. + My theme, so low, may yet apply + To one whose fame is very high, + Who finds it not the hardest matter + A hundred-headed league to scatter. + What he will do, what leave undone, + Are secrets with unbroken seals, + Till victory the truth reveals. + Whatever he would have unknown + Is sought in vain. Decrees of Fate + Forbid to check, at first, the course + Which sweeps at last with torrent force. + One Jove, as ancient fables state, + Exceeds a hundred gods in weight. + So Fate and Louis[19] would seem able + The universe to draw, + Bound captive to their law.-- + But come we to our fable. + A mother lobster did her daughter chide: + 'For shame, my daughter! can't you go ahead?' + 'And how go you yourself?' the child replied; + 'Can I be but by your example led? + Head foremost should I, singularly, wend, + While all my race pursue the other end.' + She spoke with sense: for better or for worse, + Example has a universal force. + To some it opens wisdom's door, + But leads to folly many more. + Yet, as for backing to one's aim, + When properly pursued + The art is doubtless good, + At least in grim Bellona's game. + +[18] Aesop; also in Avianus. +[19] _Louis_.--Louis XIV. + + + + +XI.--THE EAGLE AND THE MAGPIE.[20] + + The eagle, through the air a queen, + And one far different, I ween, + In temper, language, thought, and mien,-- + The magpie,--once a prairie cross'd. + The by-path where they met was drear, + And Madge gave up herself for lost; + But having dined on ample cheer, + The eagle bade her, 'Never fear; + You're welcome to my company; + For if the king of gods can be + Full oft in need of recreation,-- + Who rules the world,--right well may I, + Who serve him in that high relation: + Amuse me, then, before you fly.' + Our cackler, pleased, at quickest rate + Of this and that began to prate. + Not he of whom old Flaccus writes, + The most impertinent of wights, + Or any babbler, for that matter, + Could more incontinently chatter. + At last she offer'd to make known-- + A better spy had never flown-- + All things, whatever she might see, + In travelling from tree to tree. + But, with her offer little pleased-- + Nay, gathering wrath at being teased,-- + For such a purpose, never rove,-- + Replied th' impatient bird of Jove. + 'Adieu, my cackling friend, adieu; + My court is not the place for you: + Heaven keep it free from such a bore!' + Madge flapp'd her wings, and said no more. + + 'Tis far less easy than it seems + An entrance to the great to gain. + The honour oft hath cost extremes + Of mortal pain. + The craft of spies, the tattling art, + And looks more gracious than the heart, + Are odious there; + But still, if one would meet success, + Of different parishes the dress + He, like the pie, must wear. + +[20] Abstemius. + + + + +XII.--THE KING, THE KITE, AND THE FALCONER.[21] + +To His August Highness, Monseigneur The Prince De Conti.[22] + + The gods, for that themselves are good, + The like in mortal monarchs would. + The prime of royal rights is grace; + To this e'en sweet revenge gives place. + So thinks your highness,--while your wrath + Its cradle for its coffin hath. + Achilles no such conquest knew-- + In this a hero less than you. + That name indeed belongs to none, + Save those who have, beneath the sun, + Their hundred generous actions done. + The golden age produced such powers, + But truly few this age of ours. + The men who now the topmost sit, + Are thank'd for crimes which they omit. + For you, unharm'd by such examples, + A thousand noble deeds are winning temples, + Wherein Apollo, by the altar-fire, + Shall strike your name upon his golden lyre. + The gods await you in their azure dome; + One age must serve for this your lower home. + One age entire with you would Hymen dwell:[23] + O that his sweetest spell + For you a destiny may bind + By such a period scarce confined! + The princess and yourself no less deserve. + Her charms as witnesses shall serve; + As witnesses, those talents high + Pour'd on you by the lavish sky, + Outshining all pretence of peers + Throughout your youthful years. + A Bourbon seasons grace with wit: + To that which gains esteem, in mixture fit, + He adds a portion from, above, + Wherewith to waken love. + To paint your joy--my task is less sublime: + I therefore turn aside to rhyme + What did a certain bird of prey. + + A kite, possessor of a nest antique, + Was caught alive one day. + It was the captor's freak + That this so rare a bird + Should on his sovereign be conferr'd. + The kite, presented by the man of chase, + With due respect, before the monarch's face, + If our account is true, + Immediately flew + And perch'd upon the royal nose. + What! on the nose of majesty? + Ay, on the consecrated nose did he! + Had not the king his sceptre and his crown? + Why, if he had, or had not, 'twere all one: + The royal nose, as if it graced a clown, + Was seized. The things by courtiers done, + And said, and shriek'd, 'twere hopeless to relate. + The king in silence sate: + An outcry, from a sovereign king, + Were quite an unbecoming thing. + The bird retain'd the post where he had fasten'd; + No cries nor efforts his departure hasten'd. + His master call'd, as in an agony of pain, + Presented lure and fist, but all in vain. + It seem'd as if the cursed bird, + With instinct most absurd, + In spite of all the noise and blows, + Would roost upon that sacred nose! + The urging off of courtiers, pages, master, + But roused his will to cling the faster. + At last he quit, as thus the monarch spoke: + 'Give egress hence, imprimis, to this kite, + And, next, to him who aim'd at our delight. + From each his office we revoke. + The one as kite we now discharge; + The other, as a forester at large. + As in our station it is fit, + We do all punishment remit.' + The court admired. The courtiers praised the deed, + In which themselves did but so ill succeed.-- + Few kings had taken such a course. + The fowler might have fared far worse; + His only crime, as of his kite, + Consisted in his want of light, + About the danger there might be + In coming near to royalty. + Forsooth, their scope had wholly been + Within the woods. Was that a sin?-- + By Pilpay this remarkable affair + Is placed beside the Ganges' flood. + No human creature ventures, there, + To shed of animals the blood: + The deed not even royalty would dare. + 'Know we,' they say,--both lord and liege,-- + 'This bird saw not the Trojan siege? + Perhaps a hero's part he bore, + And there the highest helmet wore. + What once he was, he yet may be. + Taught by Pythagoras are we, + That we our forms with animals exchange; + We're kites or pigeons for a while, + Then biped plodders on the soil; + And then + As volatile, again + The liquid air we range.--' + Now since two versions of this tale exist, + I'll give the other if you list. + A certain falconer had caught + A kite, and for his sovereign thought + The bird a present rich and rare. + It may be once a century + Such game is taken from the air; + For 'tis the pink of falconry. + The captor pierced the courtier crowd, + With zeal and sweat, as if for life; + Of such a princely present proud, + His hopes of fortune sprang full rife; + When, slap, the savage made him feel + His talons, newly arm'd with steel, + By perching on his nasal member, + As if it had been senseless timber. + Outshriek'd the wight; but peals of laughter, + Which threaten'd ceiling, roof, and rafter, + From courtier, page, and monarch broke: + Who had not laugh'd at such a joke? + From me, so prone am I to such a sin, + An empire had not held me in. + I dare not say, that, had the pope been there, + He would have join'd the laugh sonorous; + But sad the king, I hold, who should not dare + To lead, for such a cause, in such a chorus. + The gods are laughers. Spite of ebon brows, + Jove joints the laugh which he allows. + As history saith, the thunderer's laugh went up + When limping Vulcan served the nectar cup. + Whether or not immortals here are wise, + Good sense, I think, in my digression lies. + For, since the moral's what we have in view, + What could the falconer's fate have taught us new? + Who does not notice, in the course of things, + More foolish falconers than indulgent kings? + +[21] Bidpaii. +[22] _Prince de Conti_.--This was Francis-Louis, Prince de la + Roche-sur-Yon and de Conti, another of La Fontaine's great friends + at court. He was born in Paris, 1664, and died in 1709. +[23] _Would Hymen dwell_.--An allusion to the marriage of the Prince + with Marie-Thérèsa de Bourbon (Mdlle. de Blois, the daughter of the + King and La Vallière), which took place in 1688. + + + + +XIII.--THE FOX, THE FLIES, AND THE HEDGEHOG.[24] + + A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly,-- + By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud,-- + Attracted, by the traces of his blood, + That buzzing parasite, the fly. + He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why + The Fates so cruelly should wish + To feast the fly on such a costly dish. + 'What! light on me! make me its food! + Me, me, the nimblest of the wood! + How long has fox-meat been so good? + What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight? + Go,--Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate!-- + And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!' + A hedgehog, witnessing his pains, + (This fretful personage + Here graces first my page,) + Desired to set him free + From such cupidity. + 'My neighbour fox,' said he, + My quills these rascals shall empale, + And ease thy torments without fail.' + 'Not for the world, my friend!' the fox replied. + 'Pray let them finish their repast. + These flies are full. Should they be set aside, + New hungrier swarms would finish me at last.' + Consumers are too common here below, + In court and camp, in church and state, we know. + Old Aristotle's penetration + Remark'd our fable's application; + It might more clearly in our nation. + The fuller certain men are fed, + The less the public will be bled. + +[24] Aesop; also Philibert Hegemon, and others. + + + + +XIV.--LOVE AND FOLLY.[25] + + Love bears a world of mystery-- + His arrows, quiver, torch, and infancy: + 'Tis not a trifling work to sound + A sea of science so profound: + And, hence, t' explain it all to-day + Is not my aim; but, in my simple way, + To show how that blind archer lad + (And he a god!) came by the loss of sight, + And eke what consequence the evil had, + Or good, perhaps, if named aright-- + A point I leave the lover to decide, + As fittest judge, who hath the matter tried. + Together on a certain day, + Said Love and Folly were at play: + The former yet enjoy'd his eyes. + Dispute arose. Love thought it wise + Before the council of the gods to go, + Where both of them by birth held stations; + But Folly, in her lack of patience, + Dealt on his forehead such a blow + As seal'd his orbs to all the light of heaven. + Now Venus claim'd that vengeance should be given. + And by what force of tears yourselves may guess + The woman and the mother sought redress. + The gods were deafen'd with her cries-- + Jove, Nemesis, the stern assize + Of Orcus,--all the gods, in short, + From whom she might the boon extort. + The enormous wrong she well portray'd-- + Her son a wretched groper made, + An ugly staff his steps to aid! + For such a crime, it would appear, + No punishment could be severe: + The damage, too, must be repair'd. + The case maturely weigh'd and cast, + The public weal with private squared: + Poor Folly was condemn'd at last, + By judgment of the court above, + To serve for aye as guide to Love.[26] + +[25] It is thought that La Fontaine owed somewhat of his idea of this + fable to one of the poems of Louise Labbé, "the beautiful + ropemaker," as she was called, who lived between 1526 and 1566. +[26] This fable was first published in the collection of the "Works in + Prose, and Verse of the Sieurs Maucroix and La Fontaine," issued by + the joint authors in 1685. See, for M. de Maucroix, note to Fable + I., Book III. + + + + +XV.--THE RAVEN, THE GAZELLE, THE TORTOISE, AND THE RAT.[27] + +To Madame De La Sablière.[28] + + A temple I reserved you in my rhyme: + It might not be completed but with time. + Already its endurance I had grounded + Upon this charming art, divinely founded; + And on the name of that divinity + For whom its adoration was to be. + These words I should have written o'er its gate-- + TO IRIS IS THIS PALACE CONSECRATE; + Not her who served the queen divine; + For Juno's self, and he who crown'd her bliss, + Had thought it for their dignity, I wis, + To bear the messages of mine. + Within the dome the apotheosis + Should greet th' enraptured sight-- + All heaven, in pomp and order meet, + Conducting Iris to her seat + Beneath a canopy of light! + The walls would amply serve to paint her life,-- + A matter sweet, indeed, but little rife + In those events, which, order'd by the Fates, + Cause birth, or change, or overthrow of states. + The innermost should hold her image,-- + Her features, smiles, attractions there,-- + Her art of pleasing without care,-- + Her loveliness, that's sure of homage. + Some mortals, kneeling at her feet,[29]-- + Earth's noblest heroes,--should be seen; + Ay, demigods, and even gods, I ween: + (The worshipp'd of the world thinks meet, + Sometimes her altar to perfume.) + Her eyes, so far as that might be, + Her soul's rich jewel should illume; + Alas! but how imperfectly! + For could a heart that throbb'd to bless + Its friends with boundless tenderness,-- + Or could that heaven-descended mind + Which, in its matchless beauty, join'd + The strength of man with woman's grace,-- + Be given to sculptor to express? + O Iris, who canst charm the soul-- + Nay, bind it with supreme control,-- + Whom as myself I can but love,-- + (Nay, not that word: as I'm a man, + Your court has placed it under ban, + And we'll dismiss it,) pray approve + My filling up this hasty plan! + This sketch has here received a place, + A simple anecdote to grace, + Where friendship shows so sweet a face, + That in its features you may find + Somewhat accordant to your mind. + Not that the tale may kings beseem; + But he who winneth your esteem + Is not a monarch placed above + The need and influence of love, + But simple mortal, void of crown, + That would for friends his life lay down-- + Than which I know no friendlier act. + Four animals, in league compact, + Are now to give our noble race + A useful lesson in the case. + + Rat, raven, tortoise, and gazelle, + Once into firmest friendship fell. + 'Twas in a home unknown to man + That they their happiness began. + But safe from man there's no retreat: + Pierce you the loneliest wood, + Or dive beneath the deepest flood, + Or mount you where the eagles brood,-- + His secret ambuscade you meet. + The light gazelle, in harmless play, + Amused herself abroad one day, + When, by mischance, her track was found + And follow'd by the baying hound-- + That barbarous tool of barbarous man-- + From which far, far away she ran. + At meal-time to the others + The rat observed,--'My brothers, + How happens it that we + Are met to-day but three? + Is Miss Gazelle so little steady? + Hath she forgotten us already?' + Out cried the tortoise at the word,-- + 'Were I, as Raven is, a bird, + I'd fly this instant from my seat, + And learn what accident, and where, + Hath kept away our sister fair,-- + Our sister of the flying feet; + For of her heart, dear rat, + It were a shame to doubt of that.' + The raven flew; + He spied afar,--the face he knew,-- + The poor gazelle entangled in a snare, + In anguish vainly floundering there. + Straight back he turn'd, and gave the alarm; + For to have ask'd the sufferer now, + The why and wherefore, when and how, + She had incurr'd so great a harm,-- + And lose in vain debate + The turning-point of fate, + As would the master of a school,-- + He was by no means such a fool.[30] + On tidings of so sad a pith, + The three their council held forthwith. + By two it was the vote + To hasten to the spot + Where lay the poor gazelle. + 'Our friend here in his shell, + I think, will do as well + To guard the house,' the raven said; + 'For, with his creeping pace, + When would he reach the place? + Not till the deer were dead.' + Eschewing more debate, + They flew to aid their mate, + That luckless mountain roe. + The tortoise, too, resolved to go. + Behold him plodding on behind, + And plainly cursing in his mind, + The fate that left his legs to lack, + And glued his dwelling to his back. + The snare was cut by Rongemail, + (For so the rat they rightly hail). + Conceive their joy yourself you may. + Just then the hunter came that way, + And, 'Who hath filch'd my prey?' + Cried he, upon the spot + Where now his prey was not.-- + A hole hid Rongemail; + A tree the bird as well; + The woods, the free gazelle. + The hunter, well nigh mad, + To find no inkling could be had, + Espied the tortoise in his path, + And straightway check'd his wrath. + 'Why let my courage flag, + Because my snare has chanced to miss? + I'll have a supper out of this.' + He said, and put it in his bag. + And it had paid the forfeit so, + Had not the raven told the roe, + Who from her covert came, + Pretending to be lame. + The man, right eager to pursue, + Aside his wallet threw, + Which Rongemail took care + To serve as he had done the snare; + Thus putting to an end + The hunter's supper on his friend. + 'Tis thus sage Pilpay's tale I follow. + Were I the ward of golden-hair'd Apollo, + It were, by favour of that god, easy-- + And surely for your sake-- + As long a tale to make + As is the Iliad or Odyssey. + Grey Rongemail the hero's part should play, + Though each would be as needful in his way. + He of the mansion portable awoke + Sir Raven by the words he spoke, + To act the spy, and then the swift express. + The light gazelle alone had had th' address + The hunter to engage, and furnish time + For Rongemail to do his deed sublime. + Thus each his part perform'd. Which wins the prize? + The heart, so far as in my judgment lies.[31] + +[27] Bidpaii. +[28] _Madame de la Sablière_.--See note to Fable I., Book X.: also + Translator's Preface. +[29] _Some mortals kneeling at her feet_.--In allusion to the + distinguished company which assembled at the house of Madame de la + Sablière. See notes on John Sobieski (King John III., of Poland), + &c., Fable I., Book X. +[30] _Such a fool_.--In allusion to Fable XIX., Book I. +[31] This fable was also first published in the "Works" of De Maucroix + and La Fontaine, 1685. The text of the later issue is slightly + abridged. + + + + +XVI.--THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN.[32] + + A certain wood-chopper lost or broke + From his axe's eye a bit of oak. + The forest must needs be somewhat spared + While such a loss was being repair'd. + Came the man at last, and humbly pray'd + That the woods would kindly lend to him-- + A moderate loan--a single limb, + Whereof might another helve be made, + And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. + O, the oaks and firs that then might stand, + A pride and a joy throughout the land, + For their ancientness and glorious charms! + The innocent Forest lent him arms; + But bitter indeed was her regret; + For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, + Did nought but his benefactress spoil + Of the finest trees that graced her soil; + And ceaselessly was she made to groan, + Doing penance for that fatal loan. + + Behold the world-stage and its actors, + Where benefits hurt benefactors!-- + A weary theme, and full of pain; + For where's the shade so cool and sweet, + Protecting strangers from the heat, + But might of such a wrong complain? + Alas! I vex myself in vain; + Ingratitude, do what I will, + Is sure to be the fashion still. + +[32] First published in 1685, in the "Works" of De Maucroix and La + Fontaine; a statement applying also to several of the remaining + fables. + + + + +XVII.--THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HORSE.[33] + + A fox, though young, by no means raw, + Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw: + 'Ho! neighbour wolf,' said he to one quite green, + 'A creature in our meadow I have seen,-- + Sleek, grand! I seem to see him yet,-- + The finest beast I ever met.' + 'Is he a stouter one than we?' + The wolf demanded, eagerly; + 'Some picture of him let me see.' + 'If I could paint,' said fox, 'I should delight + T' anticipate your pleasure at the sight; + But come; who knows? perhaps it is a prey + By fortune offer'd in our way.' + They went. The horse, turn'd loose to graze, + Not liking much their looks or ways, + Was just about to gallop off. + 'Sir,' said the fox, 'your humble servants, we + Make bold to ask you what your name may be.' + The horse, an animal with brains enough, + Replied, 'Sirs, you yourselves may read my name; + My shoer round my heel hath writ the same.' + The fox excus'd himself for want of knowledge: + 'Me, sir, my parents did not educate,-- + So poor, a hole was their entire estate. + My friend, the wolf, however, taught at college, + Could read it were it even Greek.' + The wolf, to flattery weak, + Approach'd to verify the boast; + For which four teeth he lost. + The high raised hoof came down with such a blow, + As laid him bleeding on the ground full low. + 'My brother,' said the fox, 'this shows how just + What once was taught me by a fox of wit,-- + Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ,-- + "All unknown things the wise mistrust."' + +[33] Aesop. + + + + +XVIII.--THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS. + + Against a robber fox, a tree + Some turkeys served as citadel. + That villain, much provoked to see + Each standing there as sentinel, + Cried out, 'Such witless birds + At me stretch out their necks, and gobble! + No, by the powers! I'll give them trouble.' + He verified his words. + The moon, that shined full on the oak, + Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. + But fox, in arts of siege well versed, + Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. + He feign'd himself about to climb; + Walk'd on his hinder legs sublime; + Then death most aptly counterfeited, + And seem'd anon resuscitated. + A practiser of wizard arts + Could not have fill'd so many parts. + In moonlight he contrived to raise + His tail, and make it seem a blaze: + And countless other tricks like that. + Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. + Their constant vigilance at length, + As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. + Bewilder'd by the rigs he run, + They lost their balance one by one. + As Renard slew, he laid aside, + Till nearly half of them had died; + Then proudly to his larder bore, + And laid them up, an ample store. + + A foe, by being over-heeded, + Has often in his plan succeeded. + + + + +XIX.--THE APE. + + There is an ape in Paris, + To which was given a wife: + Like many a one that marries, + This ape, in brutal strife, + Soon beat her out of life. + Their infant cries,--perhaps not fed,-- + But cries, I ween, in vain; + The father laughs: his wife is dead, + And he has other loves again, + Which he will also beat, I think,-- + Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink. + + For aught that's good, you need not look + Among the imitative tribe; + A monkey be it, or what makes a book-- + The worse, I deem--the aping scribe. + + + + +XX.--THE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER. + + A Scythian philosopher austere, + Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer, + Perform'd the tour of Greece, saw many things, + But, best, a sage,--one such as Virgil sings,-- + A simple, rustic man, that equal'd kings; + From whom, the gods would hardly bear the palm; + Like them unawed, content, and calm. + His fortune was a little nook of land; + And there the Scythian found him, hook in hand, + His fruit-trees pruning. Here he cropp'd + A barren branch, there slash'd and lopp'd, + Correcting Nature everywhere, + Who paid with usury his care. + 'Pray, why this wasteful havoc, sir?'-- + So spoke the wondering traveller; + 'Can it, I ask, in reason's name, + Be wise these harmless trees to maim? + Fling down that instrument of crime, + And leave them to the scythe of Time. + Full soon, unhasten'd, they will go + To deck the banks of streams below.' + Replied the tranquil gardener, + 'I humbly crave your pardon, sir; + Excess is all my hook removes, + By which the rest more fruitful proves.' + The philosophic traveller,-- + Once more within his country cold,-- + Himself of pruning-hook laid hold, + And made a use most free and bold; + Prescribed to friends, and counsel'd neighbours + To imitate his pruning labours. + The finest limbs he did not spare, + But pruned his orchard past all reason, + Regarding neither time nor season, + Nor taking of the moon a care. + All wither'd, droop'd, and died. + + This Scythian I set beside + The indiscriminating Stoic. + The latter, with a blade heroic, + Retrenches, from his spirit sad, + Desires and passions, good and bad, + Not sparing e'en a harmless wish. + Against a tribe so Vandalish + With earnestness I here protest. + They maim our hearts, they stupefy + Their strongest springs, if not their best; + They make us cease to live before we die. + + + + +XXI.--THE ELEPHANT AND THE APE OF JUPITER. + + + 'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose + About precedence a dispute arose, + Which they determined to decide by blows. + The day was fix'd, when came a messenger + To say the ape of Jupiter + Was swiftly earthward seen to bear + His bright caduceus through the air. + This monkey, named in history Gill, + The elephant at once believed + A high commission had received + To witness, by his sovereign's will, + The aforesaid battle fought. + Uplifted by the glorious thought, + The beast was prompt on Monsieur Gill to wait, + But found him slow, in usual forms of state, + His high credentials to present. + The ape, however, ere he went, + Bestow'd a passing salutation. + His excellency would have heard + The subject matter of legation: + But not a word! + His fight, so far from stirring heaven,-- + The news was not received there, even! + What difference sees the impartial sky + Between an elephant and fly? + Our monarch, doting on his object, + Was forced himself to break the subject. + 'My cousin Jupiter,' said he, + 'Will shortly, from his throne supreme, + A most important combat see, + For all his court a thrilling theme.' + 'What combat?' said the ape, with serious face. + 'Is't possible you should not know the case?--' + The elephant exclaim'd--'not know, dear sir, + That Lord Rhinoceros disputes + With me precedence of the brutes? + That Elephantis is at war + With savage hosts of Rhinocer? + You know these realms, not void of fame?' + 'I joy to learn them now by name,' + Return'd Sir Gill, 'for, first or last, + No lisp of them has ever pass'd + Throughout our dome so blue and vast.' + Abash'd, the elephant replied, + 'What came you, then, to do?--' + 'Between two emmets to divide + A spire of grass in two. + We take of all a care; + And, as to your affair, + Before the gods, who view with equal eyes + The small and great, it hath not chanced to rise.' + + + + +XXII.--THE FOOL AND THE SAGE.[34] + + A fool pursued, with club and stone, + A sage, who said, 'My friend, well done! + Receive this guinea for your pains; + They well deserve far higher gains. + The workman's worthy of his hire, + 'Tis said. There comes a wealthy squire, + Who hath wherewith thy works to pay; + To him direct thy gifts, and they + Shall gain their proper recompense.' + Urged by the hope of gain, + Upon the wealthy citizen + The fool repeated the offence. + His pay this time was not in gold. + Upon the witless man + A score of ready footmen ran, + And on his back, in full, his wages told. + In courts, such fools afflict the wise; + They raise the laugh at your expense. + To check their babble, were it sense + Their folly meetly to chastise? + Perhaps 'twill take a stronger man. + Then make them worry one who can. + +[34] Phaedrus, III., 4; also _Aesop_. + + + + +XXIII.--THE ENGLISH FOX.[35] + +To Madame Harvey.[36] + + Sound reason and a tender heart + With thee are friends that never part. + A hundred traits might swell the roll;-- + Suffice to name thy nobleness of soul; + Thy power to guide both men and things; + Thy temper open, bland and free, + A gift that draweth friends to thee, + To which thy firm affection clings, + Unmarr'd by age or change of clime, + Or tempests of this stormy time;-- + All which deserve, in highest lyric, + A rich and lofty panegyric; + But no such thing wouldst thou desire, + Whom pomp displeases, praises tire. + Hence mine is simple, short, and plain; + Yet, madam, I would fain + Tack on a word or two + Of homage to your country due,-- + A country well beloved by you. + + With mind to match the outward case, + The English are a thinking race. + They pierce all subjects through and through; + Well arm'd with facts, they hew their way, + And give to science boundless sway. + Quite free from flattery, I say, + Your countrymen, for penetration, + Must bear the palm from every nation; + For e'en the dogs they breed excel + Our own in nicety of smell. + Your foxes, too, are cunninger, + As readily we may infer + From one that practised, 'tis believed, + A stratagem the best conceived. + The wretch, once, in the utmost strait + By dogs of nose so delicate, + Approach'd a gallows, where, + A lesson to like passengers, + Or clothed in feathers or in furs, + Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were. + Their comrade, in his pressing need, + Arranged himself among the dead. + I seem to see old Hannibal + Outwit some Roman general, + And sit securely in his tent, + The legions on some other scent. + But certain dogs, kept back + To tell the errors of the pack, + Arriving where the traitor hung, + A fault in fullest chorus sung. + Though by their bark the welkin rung, + Their master made them hold the tongue. + Suspecting not a trick so odd, + Said he, 'The rogue's beneath the sod. + My dogs, that never saw such jokes, + Won't bark beyond these honest folks.' + + The rogue would try the trick again. + He did so to his cost and pain. + Again with dogs the welkin rings; + Again our fox from gallows swings; + But though he hangs with greater faith, + This time, he does it to his death. + So uniformly is it true, + A stratagem is best when new. + The hunter, had himself been hunted, + So apt a trick had not invented; + Not that his wit had been deficient;-- + With that, it cannot be denied, + Your English folks are well-provision'd;-- + But wanting love of life sufficient, + Full many an Englishman has died. + One word to you, and I must quit + My much-inviting subject: + A long eulogium is a project + For which my lyre is all unfit. + The song or verse is truly rare, + Which can its meed of incense bear, + And yet amuse the general ear, + Or wing its way to lands afar. + Your prince[37] once told you, I have heard, + (An able judge, as rumour says,) + That he one dash of love preferr'd + To all a sheet could hold of praise. + Accept--'tis all I crave--the offering + Which here my muse has dared to bring-- + Her last, perhaps, of earthly acts; + She blushes at its sad defects. + Still, by your favour of my rhyme, + Might not the self-same homage please, the while, + The dame who fills your northern clime + With wingèd emigrants sublime + From Cytherea's isle?[38] + By this, you understand, I mean + Love's guardian goddess, Mazarin.[39] + +[35] Abstemius. +[36] _Madame Harvey_.--An English lady (_née_ Montagu), the + widow of an officer of Charles II. (of England) who is said to have + died at Constantinople. She was a visitor at the English embassy in + Paris, and moved in the highest circles generally of that city; a + circumstance which enabled La Fontaine to make her acquaintance and + secure her as one of his best friends and patrons. She died in 1702. +[37] _Your Prince_.--Charles II. of England. +[38] _Cytherea's isle_.--Where Venus was worshipped. +[39] _Goddess Mazarin_.--The Duchess de Mazarin, niece to the + Cardinal. She was at this time in England, where she died (at + Chelsea) in 1699. She married the Duke de la Meilleraie, but it was + stipulated that she should adopt the name and arms of Mazarin. + + + + +XXIV.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[40] + + Long from the monarch of the stars + The daughters of the mud received + Support and aid; nor dearth nor wars, + Meanwhile, their teeming nation grieved. + They spread their empire far and wide + Through every marsh, by every tide. + The queens of swamps--I mean no more + Than simply frogs (great names are cheap)-- + Caball'd together on the shore, + And cursed their patron from the deep, + And came to be a perfect bore. + Pride, rashness, and ingratitude, + The progeny of fortune good, + Soon brought them to a bitter cry,-- + The end of sleep for earth and sky. + Their clamours, if they did not craze, + Would truly seem enough to raise + All living things to mutiny + Against the power of Nature's eye. + The sun,[41] according to their croak, + Was turning all the world to smoke. + It now behoved to take alarm, + And promptly powerful troops to arm. + Forthwith in haste they sent + Their croaking embassies; + To all their states they went, + And all their colonies. + To hear them talk, the all + That rides upon this whirling ball, + Of men and things, was left at stake + Upon the mud that skirts a lake! + The same complaint, in fens and bogs, + Still ever strains their lungs; + And yet these much-complaining frogs + Had better hold their tongues; + For, should the sun in anger rise, + And hurl his vengeance from the skies, + That kingless, half-aquatic crew + Their impudence would sorely rue. + +[40] Phaedrus, I., 6. Fable XII., Book VI., gives another version of the + same story. +[41] _The sun_.--This fable has reference to the current troubles + between France and the Dutch. Louis XIV. is the sun. He had adopted + the sun as his emblem. + + + + +XXV.--THE LEAGUE OF THE RATS. + + A mouse was once in mortal fear + Of a cat that watch'd her portal near. + What could be done in such a case? + With prudent care she left the catship, + And courted, with a humble grace, + A neighbour of a higher race, + Whose lordship--I should say his ratship-- + Lay in a great hotel; + And who had boasted oft, 'tis said, + Of living wholly without dread. + 'Well,' said this braggart, 'well, + Dame Mouse, what should I do? + Alone I cannot rout + The foe that threatens you. + I'll rally all the rats about, + And then I'll play him such a trick!' + The mouse her court'sy dropp'd, + And off the hero scamper'd quick, + Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd, + Where scores of rats were clustered, + In riotous extravagance, + All feasting at the host's expense. + To him, arriving there much flustered, + Indeed, quite out of breath, + A rat among the feasters saith, + 'What news? what news? I pray you, speak.' + The rat, recovering breath to squeak, + Replied, 'To tell the matter in a trice, + It is, that we must promptly aid the mice; + For old Raminagrab is making + Among their ranks a dreadful quaking. + This cat, of cats the very devil, + When mice are gone, will do us evil.' + 'True, true,' said each and all; + 'To arms! to arms!' they cry and call. + Some ratties by their fears + Were melted e'en to tears. + It matter'd not a whisk, + Nor check'd the valour brisk. + Each took upon his back + Some cheese in haversack, + And roundly swore to risk + His carcass in the cause. + They march'd as to a feast, + Not flinching in the least.-- + But quite too late, for in his jaws + The cat already held the mouse. + They rapidly approach'd the house-- + To save their friend, beyond a doubt. + Just then the cat came growling out, + The mouse beneath his whisker'd nose. + And march'd along before his foes. + At such a voice, our rats discreet, + Foreboding a defeat, + Effected, in a style most fleet, + A fortunate retreat. + Back hurried to his hole each rat, + And afterwards took care to shun the cat. + + + + +XXVI.--DAPHNIS AND ALCIMADURE. + +An Imitation Of Theocritus.[42] + +To Madame De La Mésangère.[43] + + Offspring of her to whom, to-day, + While from thy lovely self away, + A thousand hearts their homage pay, + Besides the throngs whom friendship binds to please, + And some whom love presents thee on their knees! + A mandate which I cannot thrust aside + Between you both impels me to divide + Some of the incense which the dews distil + Upon the roses of a sacred hill, + And which, by secret of my trade, + Is sweet and most delicious made. + To you, I say, ... but all to say + Would task me far beyond my day; + I need judiciously to choose; + Thus husbanding my voice and muse, + Whose strength and leisure soon would fail. + I'll only praise your tender heart, and hale, + Exalted feelings, wit, and grace, + In which there's none can claim a higher place, + Excepting her whose praise is your entail. + Let not too many thorns forbid to touch + These roses--I may call them such-- + If Love should ever say as much. + By him it will be better said, indeed; + And they who his advices will not heed, + Scourge fearfully will he, + As you shall shortly see. + + A blooming miracle of yore + Despised his godship's sovereign power; + They call'd her name Alcimadure. + A haughty creature, fierce and wild, + She sported, Nature's tameless child. + Rough paths her wayward feet would lead + To darkest glens of mossy trees; + Or she would dance on daisied mead, + With nought of law but her caprice. + A fairer could not be, + Nor crueller, than she. + Still charming in her sternest mien,-- + E'en when her haughty look debarr'd,-- + What had she been to lover in + The fortress of her kind regard! + Daphnis, a high-born shepherd swain, + Had loved this maiden to his bane. + Not one regardful look or smile, + Nor e'en a gracious word, the while, + Relieved the fierceness of his pain. + O'erwearied with a suit so vain, + His hope was but to die; + No power had he to fly. + He sought, impell'd by dark despair, + The portals of the cruel fair. + Alas! the winds his only listeners were! + The mistress gave no entrance there-- + No entrance to the palace where, + Ingrate, against her natal day, + She join'd the treasures sweet and gay + In garden or in wild-wood grown, + To blooming beauty all her own. + 'I hoped,' he cried, + 'Before your eyes I should have died; + But, ah! too deeply I have won your hate; + Nor should it be surprising news + To me, that you should now refuse + To lighten thus my cruel fate. + My sire, when I shall be no more, + Is charged to lay your feet before + The heritage your heart neglected. + With this my pasturage shall be connected, + My trusty dog, and all that he protected; + And, of my goods which then remain, + My mourning friends shall rear a fane. + There shall your image stand, midst rosy bowers, + Reviving through the ceaseless hours + An altar built of living flowers. + Near by, my simple monument + Shall this short epitaph present: + "Here Daphnis died of love. Stop, passenger, + And say thou, with a falling tear, + This youth here fell, unable to endure + The ban of proud Alcimadure."' + + He would have added, but his heart + Now felt the last, the fatal dart. + Forth march'd the maid, in triumph deck'd, + And of his murder little reck'd. + In vain her steps her own attendants check'd, + And plead + That she, at least, should shed, + Upon her lover dead, + Some tears of due respect. + The rosy god, of Cytherea born, + She ever treated with the deepest scorn: + Contemning him, his laws, and means of damage, + She drew her train to dance around his image, + When, woful to relate, + The statue fell, and crush'd her with its weight! + A voice forth issued from a cloud,-- + And echo bore the words aloud + Throughout the air wide spread,-- + "Let all now love--the insensible is dead." + Meanwhile, down to the Stygian tide + The shade of Daphnis hied, + And quaked and wonder'd there to meet + The maid, a ghostess, at his feet. + All Erebus awaken'd wide, + To hear that beauteous homicide + Beg pardon of the swain who died-- + For being deaf to love confess'd, + As was Ulysses to the prayer + Of Ajax, begging him to spare, + Or as was Dido's faithless guest.[44] + +[42] Theocritus, Idyl xxiii. +[43] _Madame de la Mésangère._--This lady was the daughter of Madame + de la Sablière.--Translator. She was the lady termed La Marquise + with whom Fontenelle sustained his imaginary "conversation" in the + "Plurality of Worlds," a book which became very popular both in + France and England. +[44] _Dido's faithless guest_.--Aeneas, with whom Dido, according to + Virgil and Ovid, was in love, but who loved not, and sailed away. + + + + +XXVII.--THE ARBITER, THE ALMONER, AND THE HERMIT. + + Three saints, for their salvation jealous, + Pursued, with hearts alike most zealous, + By routes diverse, their common aim. + All highways lead to Rome: the same + Of heaven our rivals deeming true, + Each chose alone his pathway to pursue. + Moved by the cares, delays, and crosses + Attach'd to suits by legal process, + One gave himself as judge, without reward, + For earthly fortune having small regard. + Since there are laws, to legal strife + Man damns himself for half his life. + For half?--Three-fourths!--perhaps the whole! + The hope possess'd our umpire's soul, + That on his plan he should be able + To cure this vice detestable.-- + The second chose the hospitals. + I give him praise: to solace pain + Is charity not spent in vain, + While men in part are animals. + The sick--for things went then as now they go-- + Gave trouble to the almoner, I trow. + Impatient, sour, complaining ever, + As rack'd by rheum, or parch'd with fever,-- + 'His favourites are such and such; + With them he watches over-much, + And lets us die,' they say,-- + Such sore complaints from day to day + Were nought to those that did await + The reconciler of debate. + His judgments suited neither side; + Forsooth, in either party's view, + He never held the balance true, + But swerved in every cause he tried. + + Discouraged by such speech, the arbiter + Betook himself to see the almoner. + As both received but murmurs for their fees, + They both retired, in not the best of moods, + To break their troubles to the silent woods, + And hold communion with the ancient trees. + There, underneath a rugged mountain, + Beside a clear and silent fountain, + A place revered by winds, to sun unknown, + They found the other saint, who lived alone. + Forthwith they ask'd his sage advice. + 'Your own,' he answer'd, 'must suffice; + Who but yourselves your wants should know? + To know one's self, is, here below, + The first command of the Supreme. + Have you obey'd among the bustling throngs? + Such knowledge to tranquillity belongs; + Elsewhere to seek were fallacy extreme. + Disturb the water--do you see your face? + See we ourselves within a troubled breast? + A murky cloud in such a case, + Though once it were a crystal vase! + But, brothers, let it simply rest, + And each shall see his features there impress'd. + For inward thought a desert home is best.' + + Such was the hermit's answer brief; + And, happily, it gain'd belief. + + But business, still, from life must not be stricken + Since men will doubtless sue at law, and sicken, + Physicians there must be, and advocates,-- + Whereof, thank God, no lack the world awaits, + While wealth and honours are the well-known baits. + Yet, in the stream of common wants when thrown, + What busy mortal but forgets his own? + O, you who give the public all your care, + Be it as judge, or prince, or minister, + Disturb'd by countless accidents most sinister, + By adverse gales abased, debased by fair,-- + Yourself you never see, nor _see_ you aught. + Comes there a moment's rest for serious thought, + There comes a flatterer too, and brings it all to nought. + This lesson seals our varied page: + O, may it teach from age to age! + To kings I give it, to the wise propose; + Where could my labours better close?[45] + +[45] This fable was first printed in the "Recueil de vers choisis du P. + Bouhours," published in 1693, and afterwards given as the last of La + Fontaine's Book XII. + + + * * * * * + +FINIS. + + * * * * * + + +INDEX TO THE FABLES. + + +A. + +Abdera, People of, and Democritus. VIII. 26. +Acorn and Pumpkin. IX. 4. +Aesop and the Will. II. 20. +Adder and Man. X. 2. +Adventurers and Talisman. X. 14. +Advantage of Knowledge. VIII. 19. +Alcimadure and Daphnis. XII. 26. +Almoner, Arbiter, and Hermit. XII. 27. +Amaranth and Thyrsis. VIII. 13. +Animal in the Moon. VII. 18. +Animals, Monkey, and Fox. VI. 6. +Animals sending Tribute, &c. IV. 12. +Animals sick of the Plague. VII. 1. +Ant and Dove. II. 12. +Ant and Fly. IV. 3. +Ant and Grasshopper. I. 1. +Ape of Jupiter and Elephant. XII. 21. +Ape of Paris. XII. 19. +Arbiter, Almoner, and Hermit. XII. 27. +Ass and Dog. VIII. 17. +Ass and his Masters. VI. 11. +Ass and Horse. VI. 16. +Ass and Lion, hunting. II. 19. +Ass and Little Dog. IV. 5. +Ass and Old Man. VI. 8. +Ass and Thieves. I. 13. +Ass bearing Relics. V. 14. +Ass, Dead, and Two Dogs. VIII. 25. +Ass in Lion's Skin. V. 21. +Ass loaded with Sponges, and the Ass loaded with Salt. II. 10. +Ass, Miller, and Son. III. 1. +Asses, Two, Lion, and Monkey. XI. 5. +Astrologer who fell into a Well. II. 13. +Atheist and Oracle. IV. 19. + +B. + +Bat, Bush, and Duck. XII. 7. +Bat and Two Weasels. II. 5. +Bear and Gardener. VIII. 10. +Bear and Lioness. X. 13. +Bear and Two Companions. V. 20. +Bees and Hornets. I. 21. +Beetle and Eagle. II. 8. +Belly and Members. III. 2. +Bird wounded by an Arrow. II. 6. +Birds, Little, and Swallow. I. 8. +Bitch and her Friend. II. 7. +Boreas and Phoebus. VI. 3. +Boy and Schoolmaster. I. 19. +Bulls, Two, and Frog. II. 4. +Burier and his Comrade. X. 5. +Bust and Fox. IV. 14. + +C. + +Camel and Floating Sticks. IV. 10. +Candle, Wax. IX. 12. +Capon and Falcon. VIII. 21. +Cartman in the Mire. VI. 18. +Cat and Fox. IX. 14. +Cat and Monkey. IX. 17. +Cat and Old Rat. III. 18. +Cat and Rat. VIII. 22. +Cat and Two Sparrows. XII. 2. +Cat, Cockerel, and Mouse. VI. 5. +Cat, Eagle, and Wild Sow. III. 6. +Cat metamorphosed to a Woman. II. 18. +Cat, Old, and Young Mouse. XII. 5. +Cat, Weasel, and Young Rabbit. VII. 16. +Cats and Dogs, &c., Quarrel of the. XII. 8. +Charlatan. VI. 19. +Child and Fortune. V. 11. +Coach and Fly. VII. 9. +Cobbler and Financier. VIII. 2. +Cock and Fox. II. 15. +Cock and Pearl. I. 20. +Cockerel, Cat, and Young Mouse. VI. 5. +Cocks and Partridge. X. 8. +Cocks, The Two. VII. 13. +Combat of Rats and Weasels. IV. 6. +Companions of Ulysses. XII. 1. +Cook and Swan. III. 12. +Cormorant and Fishes. X. 4. +Corpse and Curate. VII. 11. +Council held by the Rats. II. 2. +Countryman and Serpent. VI. 13. +Court of the Lion. VII. 7. +Curate and Corpse. VII. 11. + +D. + +Dairy-woman and Pot of Milk. VII. 10. +Daphnis and Alcimadure. XII. 26. +Death and the Dying. VIII. 1. +Death and the Unfortunate. I. 15. +Death and Wood-Chopper. I. 16. +Democritus and the People of Abdera. VIII. 26. +Depositary, The Faithless. IX. 1. +Discord. VI. 20. +Doctors. V. 12. +Dog and Ass. VIII. 17. +Dog and Wolf. I. 5. +Dog carrying his Master's Dinner. VIII. 7. +Dog, Farmer, and Fox. XI. 3. +Dog, Lean, and Wolf. IX. 10. +Dog, Little, and Ass. IV. 5. +Dog who lost the Substance for the Shadow. VI. 17. +Dog with his Ears cut off. X. 9. +Dogs, Cats, &c., The Quarrel of the. XII. 8. +Dogs, The Two, and Dead Ass. VIII. 25. +Dolphin and Monkey. IV. 7. +Dove and Ant. II. 12. +Doves, The Two. IX. 2. +Duck, Bat, and Bush. XII. 7. +Ducks and Tortoise. X. 3. +Dragon of Many Heads, and Dragon of Many Tails. I. 12. +Dream of the Mogul. XI. 4. +Drunkard and his Wife. III. 7. + +E. + +Eagle and Beetle. II. 8. +Eagle and Magpie. XII. 11. +Eagle and Owl. V. 18. +Eagle and Raven. II. 16. +Eagle, Wild Sow, and Cat. III. 6. +Ears of the Hare. V. 4. +Earthen Pot and Iron Pot. V. 2. +Education. VIII. 24. +Elephant and Ape of Jupiter. XII. 21. +Elephant and Rat. VIII. 15. +English Fox. XII. 23. +Eye of the Master. IV. 21. + +F. + +Fables, The Power of. VIII. 4. +Falcon and Capon. VIII. 21. +Falconer, King, and Kite. XII. 12. +Farmer and Jupiter. VI. 4. +Farmer, Dog, and Fox. XI. 3. +File and Serpent. V. 16. +Financier and Cobbler. VIII. 2. +Fish, Little, and Fisher. V. 3. +Fishes and Cormorant. X. 4. +Fishes and Joker. VIII. 8. +Fishes and Shepherd who played the Flute. X. 11. +Flea and Man. VIII. 5. +Floating Sticks and Camel. IV. 10. +Flies, Fox, and Hedgehog. XII. 13. +Fly and Ant. IV. 3. +Fly and Coach. VII. 9. +Folly and Love. XII. 14. +Fool and Sage. XII. 22. +Fool who sold Wisdom. IX. 8. +Forest and Woodman. XII. 16. +Fortune and the Boy. V. 11. +Fortune, Ingratitude towards. VII. 14. +Fortune-Tellers. VII. 15. +Fortune, the Man who ran after, &c. VII. 12. +Fowler, Hawk, and Lark. VI. 15. +Fox and Bust. IV. 14. +Fox and Cat. IX. 14. +Fox and Cock. II. 15. +Fox, Farmer, and Dog. XI. 3. +Fox and Goat. III. 5. +Fox and Grapes. III. 11. +Fox and Raven. I. 2. +Fox and Sick Lion. VI. 14. +Fox and Stork. I. 18. +Fox and Turkeys. XII. 18. +Fox and Wolf. XI. 6., XII. 9. +Fox and Wolf before the Monkey. II. 3. +Fox, English. XII. 23. +Fox, Flies, and Hedgehog. XII. 13. +Fox, Lion, and Wolf. VIII. 3. +Fox, Monkey, and Animals. VI. 6. +Fox, Two Rats, and Egg. X. 1. +Fox with his Tail cut off. V. 5. +Fox, Wolf, and Horse. XII. 17. +Friends, The Two. VIII. 11. +Frog and Rat. IV. 11. +Frog and Two Bulls. II. 4. +Frog who would be as big as the Ox. I. 3. +Frogs and Hare. II. 14. +Frogs and Sun. VI. 12., XII. 24. +Frogs asking a King. III. 4. +Funeral of the Lioness. VIII. 14. + +G. + +Gardener and Bear. VIII. 10. +Gardener and his Lord. IV. 4. +Gardener, Pedant, and School-boy. IX. 5. +Gazelle, Raven, Tortoise, and Rat. XII. 15. +Gnat and Lion. II. 9. +Goat and Fox. III. 5. +Goat, Heifer, Sheep, and Lion. I. 6. +Goat, Hog, and Sheep. VII. 12. +Goat, Kid, and Wolf. IV. 15. +Goats, The Two. XII. 4. +Gods wishing to educate a Son of Jupiter. XI. 2. +Gout and Spider. III. 8. +Grapes and Fox. III. 11. +Grasshopper and Ant. I. 1. + +H. + +Hard to suit, Against the. II. 1. +Hare and Frogs. II. 14. +Hare and Partridge. V. 17. +Hare and Tortoise. VI. 10. +Hare, Ears of the. V. 4. +Hawk, Fowler, and Lark. VI. 15. +Head and Tail of the Serpent. VII. 17. +Hedgehog, Fox, and Flies. XII. 13. +Heifer, Sheep, Goat, and Lion. I. 6. +Hen with Golden Eggs. V. 13. +Hermit, Arbiter, and Almoner. XII. 27. +Heron. VII. 4. +Hog, Goat, and Sheep. VIII. 12. +Hornets and Honey-Bees. I. 21. +Horoscope. VIII. 16. +Horse and Ass. VI. 16. +Horse and Stag. IV. 13. +Horse and Wolf. V. 8. +Horse, Fox, and Wolf. XII. 17. +Hunter and Lion. VI. 2. +Hunter and Wolf. VIII. 27. +Husband, Wife, and Thief. IX. 15. + +I. + +Idol of Wood and Man. IV. 8. +Ill-Married. VII. 2. +Image, Man and his. I. 11. + +J. + +Jay and the Peacock's Feathers. IV. 9. +Joker and Fishes. VIII. 8. +Juno and Peacock. II. 17. +Jupiter and Farmer. VI. 4. +Jupiter and the Thunderbolts. VIII. 20. +Jupiter and Traveller. IX. 13. + +K. + +Kid, Goat, and Wolf. IV. 15. +King, Kite, and Falconer. XII. 12. +King and Shepherd. X. 10. +King, his Son, and the Two Parrots. X. 12. +King's Son, Merchant, Noble, and Shepherd. X. 16. +Kite and Nightingale. IX. 18. +Kite, King, and Falconer. XII. 12. +Knowledge, The Use of. VIII. 19. + +L. + +Lamb and Wolf. I. 10. +Lark and her Young Ones, &c. IV. 22. +Lark, Fowler, and Hawk. VI. 15. +League of the Rats. XII. 25. +Leopard and Monkey. IX. 3. +Lion. XI. 1. +Lion and Ass hunting. II. 19. +Lion, Goat, Heifer, and Sheep. I. 6. +Lion and Gnat. II. 9. +Lion and Hunter. VI. 2. +Lion and Rat. II. 11. +Lion and Shepherd. VI. 1. +Lion beaten by Man. III. 10. +Lion, Court of the. VII. 7. +Lion going to War. V. 19. +Lion grown old. III. 14. +Lion in Love. IV. 1. +Lion, Monkey, and two Asses. XI. 5. +Lion, The Sick, and Fox. VI. 14. +Lion, Wolf, and Fox. VIII. 3. +Lioness and Bear. X. 13. +Lioness, Funeral of the. VIII. 14. +Litigants and Oyster. IX. 9. +Lobster and Daughter. XII. 10. +Love and Folly. XII. 14. +Love, Lion in. IV. 1. + +M. + +Magpie and Eagle. XII. 11. +Maid. VII. 5. +Man and Adder. X. 2. +Man and Flea. VIII. 5. +Man and his Image. I. 11. +Man and Two Mistresses. I. 17. +Man and Wooden God. IV. 8. +Man beating a Lion. III. 20. +Man who ran after Fortune. &c. VII. 12. +Master, The Eye of the. IV. 21. +Members and Belly. III. 2. +Men, The Two, and Treasure. IX. 16. +Merchant and Pashaw. VIII. 18. +Merchant, Noble, Shepherd, and King's Son. X. 16. +Mercury and Woodman. V. 1. +Miller, Son, and Ass. III. 1. +Mice and Cats, Quarrel of the, &c. XII. 8. +Mice and Owl. XI. 9. +Miser and Monkey. XII. 3. +Miser who had lost his Treasure. IV. 20. +Mogul's Dream. XI. 4. +Monkey and Cat. IX. 17. +Monkey and Dolphin. IV. 7. +Monkey and Leopard. IX. 3. +Monkey and Miser. XII. 3. +Monkey, Fox, and Animals. VI. 6. +Monkey judging Wolf and Fox. II. 3. +Monkey, Lion, and Two Asses. XI. 5. +Mother, Child, and Wolf. IV. 16. +Mountain in Labour, V. 10. +Mouse, Cockerel, and Cat. VI. 5. +Mouse metamorphosed into a Maid. IX. 7. +Mouse, Young, and Cat. XII. 5. +Mule boasting of his Genealogy. VI. 7. +Mules, The Two. I. 4. + +N. + +Nightingale and Kite. IX. 18. +Nobleman, Merchant, Shepherd, and King's Son. X. 16. +Nothing too Much. IX. 11. + +O. + +Oak and Reed. I. 22. +Old Cat and Young Mouse. XII. 5. +Old Man and Ass. VI. 8. +Old Man and his Sons. IV. 18. +Old Man and Three Young Ones. XI. 8. +Old Woman and Two Servants. V. 6. +Oracle and the Atheist. IV. 19. +Owl and Eagle. V. 18. +Owl and Mice. XI. 9. +Oyster and Litigants. IX. 9. +Oyster and Rat. VIII. 9. + +P. + +Parrots, The Two, the King, and his Son. X. 12. +Partridge and Cocks. X. 8. +Partridge and Hare. V. 17. +Pashaw and Merchant. VIII. 18. +Peacock complaining to Juno. II. 17. +Pearl and Cock. I. 20. +Peasant of the Danube. XI. 7. +Pedant, Schoolboy, and Gardener. IX. 5. +Philomel and Progne. III. 15. +Phoebus and Boreas. VI. 3. +Pigeons and Vultures. VII. 8. +Pigeons, The Two. IX. 2. +Ploughman and his Sons. V. 9. +Pot of Earth and the Pot of Iron. V. 2. +Pot of Milk and Dairy-woman. VII. 10. +Power of Fables. VIII. 4. +Pumpkin and Acorn. IX. 4. + +Q. + +Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats, &c. XII. 8. + +R. + +Rabbit, Cat, and Weasel. VII. 16. +Rabbits. X. 15. +Rat and Cat. VIII. 22. +Rat and Elephant. VIII. 15. +Rat and Frog. IV. 11. +Rat and Lion. II. 11. +Rat and Oyster. VIII. 9. +Rat, City, and Country Rat. I. 9. +Rat, Old, and Cat. III. 18. +Rat retired from the World. VII. 3. +Rat, Tortoise, Raven, and Gazelle. XII. 15. +Rats and Weasels, Combat of. IV. 6. +Rats, Council of the. II. 2. +Rats, League of the. XII. 25. +Rats, Two, Fox, and Egg. X. 1. +Raven wishing to imitate the Eagle. II. 16. +Raven and Fox. I. 2. +Raven, Tortoise, Gazelle, and Rat. XII. 15. +Reed and Oak. I. 22. +River and Torrent. VIII. 23. +Robber, Husband, and Wife. IX. 15. + +S. + +Sage and Fool. XII. 22. +Satyr and Traveller. V. 7. +Schoolboy, Pedant, and Gardener. IX. 5. +Schoolmaster and Boy. I. 19. +Sculptor and Statue of Jupiter. IX. 6. +Scythian Philosopher. XII. 20. +Sea, The Shepherd and the. IV. 2. +Serpent and Countryman. VI. 13. +Serpent and File. V. 16. +Serpent, Head and Tail of. VII. 17. +Servants, Two, and Old Woman. V. 6. +Sheep and Wolves. III. 13. +Sheep, Heifer, Goat, and Lion. I. 6. +Sheep, Hog, and Goat. VIII. 12. +Shepherd and his Flock. IX. 19. +Shepherd and King. X. 10. +Shepherd and Lion. VI. 1. +Shepherd and Sea. IV. 2. +Shepherd and Wolf. III. 3. +Shepherd, Merchant, Noble, and King's Son. X. 16. +Shepherd who played the Flute, and Fishes. X. 11. +Shepherds and Wolf. X. 6. +Simonides preserved by the Gods. I. 14. +Socrates, The Words of. IV. 17. +Sow (Wild), Cat, and Eagle. III. 6. +Sparrows, Two, and Cat. XII. 2. +Spider and Gout. III. 8. +Spider and Swallow. X. 7. +Stag and Horse. IV. 13. +Stag and Vine. V. 15. +Stag seeing Himself in the Water. VI. 9. +Stag, Sick. XII. 6. +Stork and Fox. I. 18. +Stork and Wolf. III. 9. +Sun and Frogs. VI. 12., XII. 24. +Swallow and Little Birds. I. 8. +Swallow and Spider. X. 9. +Swan and Cook. III. 12. + +T. + +Talisman and Two Adventurers. X. 14. +Thieves and Ass. I. 13. +Thyrsis and Amaranth. VIII. 13. +Tortoise and Hare. VI. 10. +Tortoise and two Ducks. X. 3. +Tortoise, Gazelle. Raven, and Rat. XII. 15. +Torrent and River. VIII. 23. +Traveller and Jupiter. IX. l3. +Traveller and Satyr. V. 7. +Treasure and Two Men. IX. 16. +Turkeys and Fox. XII. 18. + +U. + +Ulysses, Companions of. XII. 1. +Unfortunate and Death. I. 15. + +V. + +Vine and Stag. V. 15. +Vultures and Pigeons. VII. 8. + +W. + +Wallet. I. 7. +Wax-Candle. IX. 12. +Weasel, Cat, and Rabbit. VII. 16. +Weasel in a Granary. III. 17. +Weasels, Two, and Bat. II. 5. +Weasels and Rats, Combat of. IV. 6. +Widow, The Young. VI. 21. +Wild Sow, Eagle, and Cat. III. 6. +Will explained by Aesop. II. 20. +Wishes. VII. 6. +Wolf and Dog. I. 5. +Wolf and Fox. XII. 9. +Wolf and Fox at the Well. XI. 6. +Wolf and Fox before the Monkey. II. 3. +Wolf and Horse. V. 8. +Wolf and Hunter. VIII. 27. +Wolf and Lamb. I. 10. +Wolf and Lean Dog. IX. 10. +Wolf and Shepherds. X. 6. +Wolf and Stork. III. 9. +Wolf, Fox, and Horse. XII. 17. +Wolf, Goat, and Kid. IV. 15. +Wolf, Lion, and Fox. VIII. 3. +Wolf, Mother, and Child. IV. 16. +Wolf turned Shepherd. III. 3. +Wolves and Sheep. III. 13. +Woman Drowned. III. 16. +Women and the Secret. VIII. 6. +Wood-Chopper and Death. I. 16. +Woodman and Forest. XII. 16. +Woodman and Mercury. V. 1. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Fables of La Fontaine, by Jean de La Fontaine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + +This file should be named 8ffab10.txt or 8ffab10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8ffab11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8ffab10a.txt + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/old/8ffab10.zip b/old/8ffab10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..95316a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8ffab10.zip diff --git a/old/8ffab10h.htm b/old/8ffab10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..09ddd20 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8ffab10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16846 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<title>The Fables of La Fontaine, translated by Elizur Wright</title> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +pre { font-family:serif; margin-left:7%; } +body { margin-left:3%; margin-right:5%; } +hr { text-align:center; width:50%; } +.fbig { font-size:120%; } +.fsmall { font-size:90%; } +.note { text-align:justify; margin-left:2%; font-size:90%; } +h2,h3 { text-align:center; } +.ast { letter-spacing:2em; text-align:center; } +--> +</style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Fables of La Fontaine, by Jean de La Fontaine +#27 in our series by Jean de La Fontaine + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Fables of La Fontaine + A New Edition, With Notes + +Author: Jean de La Fontaine + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7241] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 30, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + + + + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div align="center"> +<p>THE</p> + +<h1>FABLES OF LA FONTAINE</h1> + +<br> +<p><i>Translated From The French</i></p> +<p>By</p> +<p class="fbig">Elizur Wright.</p> +<br> + +<p><i>A New Edition, With Notes</i></p> +<p>By</p> +<p class="fbig">J. W. M. Gibbs.</p> +<p>1882</p> +</div> +<br><hr><br> +<div align="center"> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + +<p>To The Present Edition,</p> + +<p>With Some Account Of The Translator.</p> +</div> +<p>The first edition of this translation of La Fontaine's Fables appeared +in Boston, U.S., in 1841. It achieved a considerable success, and six +editions were printed in three years. Since then it has been allowed to +pass out of print, except in the shape of a small-type edition produced +in London immediately after the first publication in Boston, and the +present publishers have thought that a reprint in a readable yet popular +form would be generally acceptable.</p> + +<p>The translator has remarked, in the "Advertisement" to his original +edition (which follows these pages), on the singular neglect of La +Fontaine by English translators up to the time of his own work. Forty +years have elapsed since those remarks were penned, yet translations into +English of the <i>complete</i> Fables of the chief among modern fabulists +are almost as few in number as they were then. Mr. George Ticknor (the +author of the "History of Spanish Literature," &c.), in praising Mr. +Wright's translation when it first appeared, said La Fontaine's was "a +book till now untranslated;" and since Mr. Wright so happily accomplished +his self-imposed task, there has been but one other complete translation, +viz., that of the late Mr. Walter Thornbury. This latter, however, seems +to have been undertaken chiefly with a view to supplying the necessary +accompaniment to the English issue of M. Doré's well-known designs for +the Fables (first published as illustrations to a Paris edition), and +existing as it does only in the large quarto form given to those +illustrations, it cannot make any claim to be a handy-volume edition. Mr. +Wright's translation, however, still holds its place as the best English +version, and the present reprint, besides having undergone careful +revision, embodies the corrections (but not the expurgations) of the +sixth edition, which differed from those preceding it. The notes too, +have, for the most part, been added by the reviser.</p> + +<p>Some account of the translator, who is still one of the living notables +of his nation, may not be out of place here. Elizur Wright, junior, is +the son of Elizur Wright, who published some papers in mathematics, but +was principally engaged in agricultural pursuits at Canaan, Litchfield +Co., Connecticut, U.S. The younger Elizur Wright was born at Canaan in +1804. He graduated at Yale College in 1826, and afterwards taught in a +school at Groton. In 1829, he became Professor of Mathematics in Hudson +College, from which post he went to New York in 1833, on being appointed +secretary to the American Anti-Slavery Society. In 1838 he removed to the +literary centre of the United States, Boston, where he edited several +papers successively, and where he published his "La Fontaine;" which +thus, whilst, it still remains his most considerable work, was also one +of his earliest. How he was led to undertake it, he has himself narrated +in the advertisement to his first edition. But previously to 1841, the +date of the first publication of the complete "Fables," he tried the +effect of a partial publication. In 1839 he published, anonymously, a +little 12mo volume, "La Fontaine; A Present for the Young." This, as +appears from the title, was a book for children, and though the substance +of these few (and simpler) fables may be traced in the later and complete +edition, the latter shows a considerable improvement upon the work of his +"'prentice hand." The complete work was published, as we have said, in +1841. It appeared in an expensive and sumptuous form, and was adorned +with the French artist Grandville's illustrations--which had first +appeared only two years previously in the Paris edition of La Fontaine's +Fables, published by Fournier Ainé. The book was well received both in +America and England, and four other editions were speedily called for. +The sixth edition, published in 1843, was a slightly expurgated one, +designed for schools. The expurgation, however, almost wholly consisted +of the omission bodily of five of the fables, whose places were, as Mr. +Wright stated in his preface, filled by six original fables of his own. +From his "Notice" affixed to this sixth edition, it seems evident that he +by no means relished the task, usually a hateful one, of expurgating his +author. Having, however, been urged to the task by "criticisms both +friendly and unfriendly" (as he says) he did it; and did it wisely, +because sparingly. But in his prefatory words he in a measure protests. +He says:--"In this age, distinguished for almost everything more than +sincerity, there are some people who would seem too delicate and refined +to read their Bibles." And he concludes with the appeal,--"But the +unsophisticated lovers of <i>nature</i>, who have not had the opportunity +to acquaint themselves with the French language, I have no doubt will +thank me for interpreting to them these honest and truthful fictions of +the frank old JEAN, and will beg me to proceed no farther in the work +of expurgation." The first of the substituted fables of the sixth +edition--<i>The Fly and the Game</i>, given below--may also be viewed as +a protest to the same purpose. As a specimen of Mr. Wright's powers at +once as an original poet and an original fabulist, we here print (for the +first time in England, we believe) the substituted fables of his sixth +edition. We may add, that they appeared in lieu of the following five +fables as given in Mr. Wright's complete edition--and in the present +edition:--<i>The Bitch and her Friend, The Mountain in Labour, The Young +Widow, The Women and the Secret</i>, and, <i>The Husband, the Wife, and +the Thief</i>. It should also be borne in mind that these original fables +were inserted in an edition professedly meant for schools rather than for +the general public.</p> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h4>THE FLY AND THE GAME.</h4> +<pre> + A knight of powder-horn and shot + Once fill'd his bag--as I would not, + Unless the feelings of my breast + By poverty were sorely press'd-- + With birds and squirrels for the spits + Of certain gormandizing cits. + With merry heart the fellow went + Direct to Mr. Centpercent, + Who loved, as well was understood, + Whatever game was nice and good. + This gentleman, with knowing air, + Survey'd the dainty lot with care, + Pronounced it racy, rich, and rare, + And call'd his wife, to know her wishes + About its purchase for their dishes. + The lady thought the creatures prime, + And for their dinner just in time; + So sweet they were, and delicate, + For dinner she could hardly wait. + But now there came--could luck be worse?-- + Just as the buyer drew his purse, + A bulky fly, with solemn buzz, + And smelt, as an inspector does, + This bird and that, and said the meat-- + But here his words I won't repeat-- + Was anything but fit to eat. + 'Ah!' cried the lady, 'there's a fly + I never knew to tell a lie; + His coat, you see, is bottle-green; + He knows a thing or two I ween; + My dear, I beg you, do not buy: + Such game as this may suit the dogs.' + So on our peddling sportsman jogs, + His soul possess'd of this surmise, + About some men, as well as flies: + A filthy taint they soonest find + Who are to relish filth inclined. +</pre> +<br> +<h4>THE DOG AND CAT.</h4> +<pre> + A dog and cat, messmates for life, + Were often falling into strife, + Which came to scratching, growls, and snaps, + And spitting in the face, perhaps. + A neighbour dog once chanced to call + Just at the outset of their brawl, + And, thinking Tray was cross and cruel, + To snarl so sharp at Mrs. Mew-well, + Growl'd rather roughly in his ear. + 'And who are you to interfere?' + Exclaim'd the cat, while in his face she flew; + And, as was wise, he suddenly withdrew. + + It seems, in spite of all his snarling, + And hers, that Tray was still her darling. +</pre> +<br> +<h4>THE GOLDEN PITCHER.</h4> +<pre> + A father once, whose sons were two, + For each a gift had much ado. + At last upon this course he fell: + 'My sons,' said he, 'within our well + Two treasures lodge, as I am told; + The one a sunken piece of gold,-- + A bowl it may be, or a pitcher,-- + The other is a thing far richer. + These treasures if you can but find, + Each may be suited to his mind; + For both are precious in their kind. + To gain the one you'll need a hook; + The other will but cost a look. + But O, of this, I pray, beware!-- + You who may choose the tempting share,-- + Too eager fishing for the pitcher + May ruin that which is far richer.' + + Out ran the boys, their gifts to draw: + But eagerness was check'd with awe, + How could there be a richer prize + Than solid gold beneath the skies? + Or, if there could, how could it dwell + Within their own old, mossy well? + Were questions which excited wonder, + And kept their headlong av'rice under. + The golden cup each fear'd to choose, + Lest he the better gift should lose; + And so resolved our prudent pair, + The gifts in common they would share. + The well was open to the sky. + As o'er its curb they keenly pry, + It seems a tunnel piercing through, + From sky to sky, from blue to blue; + And, at its nether mouth, each sees + A brace of their antipodes, + With earnest faces peering up, + As if themselves might seek the cup. + 'Ha!' said the elder, with a laugh, + 'We need not share it by the half. + The mystery is clear to me; + That richer gift to all is free. + Be only as that water true, + And then the whole belongs to you.' + + That truth itself was worth so much, + It cannot be supposed that such. + A pair of lads were satisfied; + And yet they were before they died. + But whether they fish'd up the gold + I'm sure I never have been told. + Thus much they learn'd, I take for granted,-- + And that was what their father wanted:-- + If truth for wealth we sacrifice, + We throw away the richer prize. +</pre> +<br> +<h4>PARTY STRIFE.</h4> +<pre> + Among the beasts a feud arose. + The lion, as the story goes, + Once on a time laid down + His sceptre and his crown; + And in his stead the beasts elected, + As often as it suited them, + A sort of king <i>pro tem.</i>,-- + Some animal they much respected. + At first they all concurr'd. + The horse, the stag, the unicorn, + Were chosen each in turn; + And then the noble bird + That looks undazzled at the sun. + But party strife began to run + Through burrow, den, and herd. + Some beasts proposed the patient ox, + And others named the cunning fox. + The quarrel came to bites and knocks; + Nor was it duly settled + Till many a beast high-mettled + Had bought an aching head, + Or, possibly, had bled. + The fox, as one might well suppose, + At last above his rival rose, + But, truth to say, his reign was bootless, + Of honour being rather fruitless. + All prudent beasts began to see + The throne a certain charm had lost, + And, won by strife, as it must be, + Was hardly worth the pains it cost. + So when his majesty retired, + Few worthy beasts his seat desired. + Especially now stood aloof + The wise of head, the swift of hoof, + The beasts whose breasts were battle-proof. + It consequently came to pass, + Not first, but, as we say, in fine, + For king the creatures chose the ass-- + He, for prime minister the swine. + + 'Tis thus that party spirit + Is prone to banish merit. +</pre> +<br> +<h4>THE CAT AND THE THRUSH.</h4> +<pre> + A thrush that sang one rustic ode + Once made a garden his abode, + And gave the owner such delight, + He grew a special favourite. + Indeed, his landlord did his best + To make him safe from every foe; + The ground about his lowly nest + Was undisturb'd by spade or hoe. + And yet his song was still the same; + It even grew somewhat more tame. + At length Grimalkin spied the pet, + Resolved that he should suffer yet, + And laid his plan of devastation + So as to save his reputation; + For, in the house, from looks demure, + He pass'd for honest, kind, and pure. + Professing search of mice and moles, + He through the garden daily strolls, + And never seeks our thrush to catch; + But when his consort comes to hatch, + Just eats the young ones in a batch. + The sadness of the pair bereaved + Their generous guardian sorely grieved. + But yet it could not be believed + His faithful cat was in the wrong, + Though so the thrush said in his song. + The cat was therefore favour'd still + To walk the garden at his will; + And hence the birds, to shun the pest, + Upon a pear-tree built their nest. + Though there it cost them vastly more, + 'Twas vastly better than before. + And Gaffer Thrush directly found + His throat, when raised above the ground, + Gave forth a softer, sweeter sound. + New tunes, moreover, he had caught, + By perils and afflictions taught, + And found new things to sing about: + New scenes had brought new talents out. + So, while, improved beyond a doubt, + His own old song more clearly rang, + Far better than themselves he sang + The chants and trills of other birds; + He even mock'd Grimalkin's words + With such delightful humour that + He gain'd the Christian name of Cat. + + Let Genius tell in verse and prose. + How much to praise and friends it owes. + Good sense may be, as I suppose, + As much indebted to its foes. +</pre> +<br><hr><br> + +<p>In 1844 Mr. Wright wrote the Preface to the first collected edition of +the works of the poet J. G. Whittier; and soon after he seems to have +become completely absorbed in politics, and in the mighty anti-slavery +struggle, which constituted the greater part of the politics of the +United States in those and many succeeding years. He became a journalist +in the anti-slavery cause; and, in 1850, he wrote a trenchant answer to +Mr. Carlyle's then just published "Latter Day Pamphlets." Later on, +slavery having been at length abolished, he appeared as a writer in yet +another field, publishing several works, one as lately as 1877, on +life-assurance.<p> + +<p>London, 1881.</p> + +<br><hr><br> +<div align="center"> +<h2>ADVERTISEMENT</h2> + +<p>To The First Edition Of This Translation.</p> + +<p class="fsmall">[Boston, U.S.A., 1841.]</p> +</div> +<p>Four years ago, I dropped into Charles de Behr's repository of foreign +books, in Broadway, New York, and there, for the first time, saw La +Fontaine's Fables. It was a cheap copy, adorned with some two hundred +woodcuts, which, by their worn appearance, betokened an extensive +manufacture. I became a purchaser, and gave the book to my little boy, +then just beginning to feel the intellectual magnetism of pictures. In +the course of the next year, he frequently tasked my imperfect knowledge +of French for the story which belonged to some favourite vignette. This +led me to inquire whether any English version existed; and, not finding +any, I resolved, though quite unused to literary exercises of the sort, +to cheat sleep of an hour every morning till there should be one. The +result is before you. If in this I have wronged La Fontaine, I hope the +best-natured of poets, as well as yourselves, will forgive me, and lay +the blame on the better qualified, who have so long neglected the task. +Cowper should have done it. The author of "John Gilpin," and the "Retired +Cat," would have put La Fontaine into every chimney-corner which resounds +with the Anglo-Saxon tongue.... To you who have so generously enabled me +to publish this work with so great advantages, and without selling the +copyright for the <i>promise</i> of a song, I return my heartfelt thanks. +A hatchet-faced, spectacled, threadbare stranger knocked at your doors, +with a prospectus, unbacked by "the trade," soliciting your subscription +to a costly edition of a mere translation. It is a most inglorious, +unsatisfactory species of literature. The slightest preponderance of that +worldly wisdom which never buys a pig-in-a-poke would have sent him and +his translation packing. But a kind faith in your species got the better +in your case. You not only gave the hungry-looking stranger your good +wishes, but your good names. A list of those names it would delight me to +insert; and I should certainly do it if I felt authorized. As it is, I +hope to be pardoned for mentioning some of the individuals, who have not +only given their names, but expressed an interest in my enterprise which +has assisted me in its accomplishment. Rev. John Pierpont, Prof. George +Ticknor, Prof. Henry W. Longfellow, William H. Prescott, Esq., Hon. +Theodore Lyman, Prof. Silliman, Prof. Denison Olmsted, Chancellor Kent, +William C. Bryant, Esq., Dr. J. W. Francis, Hon. Peter A. Jay, Hon. +Luther Bradish, and Prof. J. Molinard, have special claims to my +gratitude....</p> + +<p>The work--as it is, not as it ought to be--I commit to your kindness. I +do not claim to have succeeded in translating "the inimitable La +Fontaine,"--perhaps I have not even a right to say in his own language--</p> +<blockquote> + "J'ai du moins ouvert le chemin." +</blockquote> +<p>However this may be, I am, gratefully,</p> + +<p>Your obedient servant,</p> + +<p>Elizur Wright, Jr.</p> + +<p class="fsmall">Dorchester, <i>September</i>, 1841.</p> + + <br><hr><br> +<div align="center"> +<h2>A PREFACE,</h2> + +<p>on</p> +<p class="fbig">Fable, The Fabulists, And La Fontaine.</p> + +<p>By The Translator.</p> +</div> +<p>Human nature, when fresh from the hand of God, was full of poetry. Its +sociality could not be pent within the bounds of the actual. To the lower +inhabitants of air, earth, and water,--and even to those elements +themselves, in all their parts and forms,--it gave speech and reason. The +skies it peopled with beings, on the noblest model of which it could have +any conception--to wit, its own. The intercourse of these beings, thus +created and endowed,--from the deity kindled into immortality by the +imagination, to the clod personified for the moment,--gratified one of +its strongest propensities; for man may well enough be defined as the +historical animal. The faculty which, in after ages, was to chronicle the +realities developed by time, had at first no employment but to place on +record the productions of the imagination. Hence, fable blossomed and +ripened in the remotest antiquity. We see it mingling itself with the +primeval history of all nations. It is not improbable that many of the +narratives which have been preserved for us, by the bark or parchment of +the first rude histories, as serious matters of fact, were originally +apologues, or parables, invented to give power and wings to moral +lessons, and afterwards modified, in their passage from mouth to mouth, +by the well-known magic of credulity. The most ancient poets graced their +productions with apologues. Hesiod's fable of the Hawk and the +Nightingale is an instance. The fable or parable was anciently, as it is +even now, a favourite weapon of the most successful orators. When Jotham +would show the Shechemites the folly of their ingratitude, he uttered the +fable of the Fig-Tree, the Olive, the Vine, and the Bramble. When the +prophet Nathan would oblige David to pass a sentence of condemnation upon +himself in the matter of Uriah, he brought before him the apologue of the +rich man who, having many sheep, took away that of the poor man who had +but one. When Joash, the king of Israel, would rebuke the vanity of +Amaziah, the king of Judah, he referred him to the fable of the Thistle +and the Cedar. Our blessed Saviour, the best of all teachers, was +remarkable for his constant use of parables, which are but fables--we +speak it with reverence--adapted to the gravity of the subjects on which +he discoursed. And, in profane history, we read that Stesichorus put the +Himerians on their guard against the tyranny of Phalaris by the fable of +the Horse and the Stag. Cyrus, for the instruction of kings, told the +story of the fisher obliged to use his nets to take the fish that turned +a deaf ear to the sound of his flute. Menenius Agrippa, wishing to bring +back the mutinous Roman people from Mount Sacer, ended his harangue with +the fable of the Belly and the Members. A Ligurian, in order to dissuade +King Comanus from yielding to the Phocians a portion of his territory as +the site of Marseilles, introduced into his discourse the story of the +bitch that borrowed a kennel in which to bring forth her young, but, when +they were sufficiently grown, refused to give it up.</p> + +<p>In all these instances, we see that fable was a mere auxiliary of +discourse--an implement of the orator. Such, probably, was the origin of +the apologues which now form the bulk of the most popular collections. +Aesop, who lived about six hundred years before Christ, so far as we can +reach the reality of his life, was an orator who wielded the apologue +with remarkable skill. From a servile condition, he rose, by the force of +his genius, to be the counsellor of kings and states. His wisdom was in +demand far and wide, and on the most important occasions. The pithy +apologues which fell from his lips, which, like the rules of arithmetic, +solved the difficult problems of human conduct constantly presented to +him, were remembered when the speeches that contained them were +forgotten. He seems to have written nothing himself; but it was not long +before the gems which he scattered began to be gathered up in +collections, as a distinct species of literature. The great and good +Socrates employed himself, while in prison, in turning the fables of +Aesop into verse. Though but a few fragments of his composition have come +down to us, he may, perhaps, be regarded as the father of fable, +considered as a distinct art. Induced by his example, many Greek poets +and philosophers tried their hands in it. Archilocus, Alcaeus, Aristotle, +Plato, Diodorus, Plutarch, and Lucian, have left us specimens. +Collections of fables bearing the name of Aesop became current in the +Greek language. It was not, however, till the year 1447 that the large +collection which now bears his name was put forth in Greek prose by +Planudes, a monk of Constantinople. This man turned the life of Aesop +itself into a fable; and La Fontaine did it the honour to translate it as +a preface to his own collection. Though burdened with insufferable +puerilities, it is not without the moral that a rude and deformed +exterior may conceal both wit and worth.</p> + +<p>The collection of fables in Greek verse by Babrias was exceedingly +popular among the Romans. It was the favourite book of the Emperor +Julian. Only six of these fables, and a few fragments, remain; but they +are sufficient to show that their author possessed all the graces of +style which befit the apologue. Some critics place him in the Augustan +age; others make him contemporary with Moschus. His work was versified in +Latin, at the instance of Seneca; and Quinctilian refers to it as a +reading-book for boys. Thus, at all times, these playful fictions have +been considered fit lessons for children, as well as for men, who are +often but grown-up children. So popular were the fables of Babrias and +their Latin translation, during the Roman empire, that the work of +Phaedrus was hardly noticed. The latter was a freedman of Augustus, and +wrote in the reign of Tiberius. His verse stands almost unrivalled for +its exquisite elegance and compactness; and posterity has abundantly +avenged him for the neglect of contemporaries. La Fontaine is perhaps +more indebted to Phaedrus than to any other of his predecessors; and, +especially in the first six books, his style has much of the same curious +condensation. When the seat of the empire was transferred to Byzantium, +the Greek language took precedence of the Latin; and the rhetorician +Aphthonius wrote forty fables in Greek prose, which became popular. +Besides these collections among the Romans, we find apologues scattered +through the writings of their best poets and historians, and embalmed in +those specimens of their oratory which have come down to us.</p> + +<p>The apologues of the Greeks and Romans were brief, pithy, and +epigrammatic, and their collections were without any principle of +connection. But, at the same time, though probably unknown to them, the +same species of literature was flourishing elsewhere under a somewhat +different form. It is made a question, whether Aesop, through the +Assyrians, with whom the Phrygians had commercial relations, did not +either borrow his art from the Orientals, or lend it to them. This +disputed subject must be left to those who have a taste for such +inquiries. Certain it is, however, that fable flourished very anciently +with the people whose faith embraces the doctrine of metempsychosis. +Among the Hindoos, there are two very ancient collections of fables, +which differ from those which we have already mentioned, in having a +principle of connection throughout. They are, in fact, extended romances, +or dramas, in which all sorts of creatures are introduced as actors, and +in which there is a development of sentiment and passion as well as of +moral truth, the whole being wrought into a system of morals particularly +adapted to the use of those called to govern. One of these works is +called the <i>Pantcha Tantra</i>, which signifies "Five Books," or +Pentateuch. It is written in prose. The other is called the <i>Hitopadesa</i>, +or "Friendly Instruction," and is written in verse. Both are in the +ancient Sanscrit language, and bear the name of a Brahmin, Vishnoo +Sarmah,[<a href="#1">1</a>] as the author. Sir William Jones, who is inclined to make this +author the true Aesop of the world, and to doubt the existence of the +Phrygian, gives him the preference to all other fabulists, both in regard +to matter and manner. He has left a prose translation of the <i> +Hitopadesa</i>, which, though it may not fully sustain his enthusiastic +preference, shows it not to be entirely groundless. We give a sample +of it, and select a fable which La Fontaine has served up as the +twenty-seventh of his eighth book. It should be understood that the +fable, with the moral reflections which accompany it, is taken from the +speech of one animal to another.</p> +<p class="note"> +[<a name="1">1</a>] <i>Vishnoo Sarmah</i>.--Sir William Jones has the name + <i>Vishnu-sarman</i>. He says, further, that the word + <i>Hitopadesa</i> comes from <i>hita</i>, signifying fortune, + prosperity, utility, and <i>upadesa</i>, signifying advice, + the entire word meaning "salutary or amicable + instruction."--Ed.</p> + +<p>"Frugality should ever be practised, but not excessive parsimony; for see +how a miser was killed by a bow drawn by himself!"</p> + +<p>"How was that?" said Hiranyaca.</p> + +<p>"In the country of Calyanacataca," said Menthara, "lived a mighty hunter, +named Bhairaza, or Terrible. One day he went, in search of game, into a +forest on the mountains Vindhya; when, having slain a fawn, and taken it +up, he perceived a boar of tremendous size; he therefore threw the fawn +on the ground, and wounded the boar with an arrow; the beast, horribly +roaring, rushed upon him, and wounded him desperately, so that he fell, +like a tree stricken with an axe.</p> + +<p class="ast"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>"In the meanwhile, a jackal, named Lougery, was roving in search of food; +and, having perceived the fawn, the hunter, and the boar, all three dead, +he said to himself, 'What a noble provision is here made for me!'</p> + +<p>"As the pains of men assail them unexpectedly, so their pleasures come in +the same manner; a divine power strongly operates in both.</p> + +<p>"'Be it so; the flesh of these three animals will sustain me a whole +month, or longer.</p> + +<p>"'A man suffices for one month; a fawn and a boar, for two; a snake, for +a whole day; and then I will devour the bowstring.' When the first +impulse of his hunger was allayed, he said, 'This flesh is not yet +tender; let me taste the twisted string with which the horns of this bow +are joined.' So saying, he began to gnaw it; but, in the instant when he +had cut the string, the severed bow leaped forcibly up, and wounded him +in the breast, so that he departed in the agonies of death. This I meant, +when I cited the verse, Frugality should ever be practised, &c.</p> + +<p class="ast"> * * * * *</p> + +<p>"What thou givest to distinguished men, and what thou eatest every +day--that, in my opinion, is thine own wealth: whose is the remainder +which thou hoardest?"<p> + +<p><i>Works of Sir William Jones</i>, vol. vi. pp. 35-37.[<a href="#2">2</a>]</p> + +<p class="note">[<a name="2">2</a>] Edition 1799, 6 vols., 4to.--Ed.</p> + +<p>It was one of these books which Chosroës, the king of Persia, caused to +be translated from the Sanscrit into the ancient language of his country, +in the sixth century of the Christian era, sending an embassy into +Hindostan expressly for that purpose. Of the Persian book a translation +was made in the time of the Calif Mansour, in the eighth century, into +Arabic. This Arabic translation it is which became famous under the title +of "The Book of Calila and Dimna, or the Fables of Bidpaï."[<a href="#3">3</a>]</p> + +<p class="note">[<a name="3">3</a>] An English translation from the Arabic appeared in 1819, done by the + Rev. Wyndham Knatchbull. Sir William Jones says that the word + <i>Bidpaii</i> signifies beloved, or favourite, physician. And he + adds that the word <i>Pilpay</i>, which has taken the place of + <i>Bidpaii</i> in some editions of these fables, is the result + simply of a blunder in copying the word <i>Bidpaii</i> from the + original. La Fontaine himself uses the word <i>Pilpay</i> twice in + his Fables, viz., in Fables XII. and XV., Book XII.--Ed.</p> + +<p>Calila and Dimna are the names of two jackals that figure in the history, +and Bidpaï is one of the principal human interlocutors, who came to be +mistaken for the author. This remarkable book was turned into verse by +several of the Arabic poets, was translated into Greek, Hebrew, Latin, +modern Persian, and, in the course of a few centuries, either directly or +indirectly, into most of the languages of modern Europe.</p> + +<p>Forty-one of the unadorned and disconnected fables of Aesop were also +translated into Arabic at a period somewhat more recent than the Hegira, +and passed by the name of the "Fables of Lokman." Their want of poetical +ornament prevented them from acquiring much popularity with the Arabians; +but they became well known in Europe, as furnishing a convenient +text-book in the study of Arabic.</p> + +<p>The <i>Hitopadesa</i>, the fountain of poetic fables, with its +innumerable translations and modifications, seems to have had the +greatest charms for the Orientals. As it passed down the stream of time, +version after version, the ornament and machinery outgrew the moral +instruction, till it gave birth, at last, to such works of mere amusement +as the "Thousand and One Nights."</p> + +<p>Fable slept, with other things, in the dark ages of Europe. Abridgments +took the place of the large collections, and probably occasioned the +entire loss of some of them. As literature revived, fable was +resuscitated. The crusades had brought European mind in contact with the +Indian works which we have already described, in their Arabic dress. +Translations and imitations in the European tongues were speedily +multiplied. The "Romance of the Fox," the work of Perrot de Saint Cloud, +one of the most successful of these imitations, dates back to the +thirteenth century. It found its way into most of the northern languages, +and became a household book. It undoubtedly had great influence over the +taste of succeeding ages, shedding upon the severe and satirical wit of +the Greek and Roman literature the rich, mellow light of Asiatic poetry. +The poets of that age were not confined, however, to fables from the +Hindoo source. Marie de France, also, in the thirteenth century, +versified one hundred of the fables of Aesop, translating from an English +collection, which does not now appear to be extant. Her work is entitled +the <i>Ysopet</i>, or "Little Aesop." Other versions, with the same +title, were subsequently written. It was in 1447 that Planudes, already +referred to, wrote in Greek prose a collection of fables, prefacing it +with a life of Aesop, which, for a long time, passed for the veritable +work of that ancient. In the next century, Abstemius wrote two hundred +fables in Latin prose, partly of modern, but chiefly of ancient +invention. At this time, the vulgar languages had undergone so great +changes, that works in them of two or three centuries old could not be +understood, and, consequently, the Latin became the favourite language of +authors. Many collections of fables were written in it, both in prose and +verse. By the art of printing these works were greatly multiplied; and +again the poets undertook the task of translating them into the language +of the people. The French led the way in this species of literature, +their language seeming to present some great advantages for it. One +hundred years before La Fontaine, Corrozet, Guillaume Gueroult, and +Philibert Hegemon, had written beautiful fables in verse, which it is +supposed La Fontaine must have read and profited by, although they had +become nearly obsolete in his time. It is a remarkable fact, that these +poetical fables should so soon have been forgotten. It was soon after +their appearance that the languages of Europe attained their full +development; and, at this epoch, prose seems to have been universally +preferred to poetry. So strong was this preference, that Ogilby, the +Scotch fabulist, who had written a collection of fables in English verse, +reduced them to prose on the occasion of publishing a more splendid +edition in 1668. It seems to have been the settled opinion of the critics +of that age, as it has, indeed, been stoutly maintained since, that the +ornaments of poetry only impair the force of the fable--that the Muses, +by becoming the handmaids of old Aesop, part with their own dignity +without conferring any on him. La Fontaine has made such an opinion +almost heretical. In his manner there is a perfect originality, and an +immortality every way equal to that of the matter which he gathered up +from all parts of the great storehouse of human experience. His fables +are like pure gold enveloped in solid rock-crystal. In English, a few of +the fables of Gay, of Moore, and of Cowper, may be compared with them in +some respects, but we have nothing resembling them as a whole. Gay, who +has done more than any other, though he has displayed great power of +invention, and has given his verse a flow worthy of his master, Pope, has +yet fallen far behind La Fontaine in the general management of his +materials. His fables are all beautiful poems, but few of them are +beautiful fables. His animal speakers do not sufficiently preserve their +animal characters. It is quite otherwise with La Fontaine. His beasts are +made most nicely to observe all the proprieties not only of the scene in +which they are called to speak, but of the great drama into which they +are from time to time introduced. His work constitutes an harmonious +whole. To those who read it in the original, it is one of the few which +never cloy the appetite. As in the poetry of Burns, you are apt to think +the last verse you read of him the best.</p> + +<p>But the main object of this Preface was to give a few traces of the life +and literary career of our poet. A remarkable poet cannot but have been a +remarkable man. Suppose we take a man with native benevolence amounting +almost to folly; but little cunning, caution, or veneration; good +perceptive, but better reflective faculties; and a dominant love of the +beautiful;--and toss him into the focus of civilization in the age of +Louis XIV. It is an interesting problem to find out what will become of +him. Such is the problem worked out in the life of JEAN DE LA FONTAINE, +born on the eighth of July, 1621, at Chateau-Thierry. His father, a man +of some substance and station, committed two blunders in disposing of his +son. First, he encouraged him to seek an education for ecclesiastical +life, which was evidently unsuited to his disposition. Second, he brought +about his marriage with a woman who was unfitted to secure his +affections, or to manage his domestic affairs. In one other point he was +not so much mistaken: he laboured unremittingly to make his son a poet. +Jean was a backward boy, and showed not the least spark of poetical +genius till his twenty-second year. His poetical genius did not ripen +till long after that time. But his father lived to see him all, and more +than all, that he had ever hoped.[<a href="#4">4</a>]</p> + +<p class="note">[<a name="4">4</a>] The Translator in his sixth edition replaced the next paragraph by + the following remarks:--"The case is apparently, and only apparently, + an exception to the old rule <i>Poeta nascitur, orator fit</i>--the + poet is born, the orator is made. The truth is, without exception, + that every poet is born such; and many are born such of whose poetry + the world knows nothing. Every known poet is also somewhat an + orator; and as to this part of his character, he is made. And many + are known as poets who are altogether made; they are mere + second-hand, or orator poets, and are quite intolerable unless + exceedingly well made, which is, unfortunately, seldom the case. It + would be wise in them to busy themselves as mere translators. Every + one who is born with propensities to love and wonder too strong and + deep to be worn off by repetition or continuance,--in other words, + who is born to be always young,--is born a poet. The other + requisites he has of course. Upon him the making will never be lost. + The richest gems do most honour to their polishing. But they are + gems without any. So there are men who pass through the world with + their souls full of poetry, who would not believe you if you were to + tell them so. Happy for them is their ignorance, perhaps. La + Fontaine came near being one of them. All that is artificial in + poetry to him came late and with difficulty. Yet it resulted from + his keen relish of nature, that he was never satisfied with his art + of verse till he had brought it to the confines of perfection. He + did not philosophize over the animals; he sympathized with them. A + philosopher would not have lost a fashionable dinner in his + admiration of a common ant-hill. La Fontaine did so once, because + the well-known little community was engaged in what he took to be a + funeral. He could not in decency leave them till it was over. + Verse-making out of the question, this was to be a genuine poet, + though, with commonplace mortals, it was also to be a fool."</p> + +<p>But we will first, in few words, despatch the worst--for there is a very +bad part--of his life. It was not specially <i>his</i> life; it was the +life of the age in which he lived. The man of strong amorous +propensities, in that age and country, who was, nevertheless, faithful to +vows of either marriage or celibacy,--the latter vows then proved sadly +dangerous to the former,--may be regarded as a miracle. La Fontaine, +without any agency of his own affections, found himself married at the +age of twenty-six, while yet as immature as most men are at sixteen. The +upshot was, that his patrimony dwindled; and, though he lived many years +with his wife, and had a son, he neglected her more and more, till at +last he forgot that he had been married, though he unfortunately did not +forget that there were other women in the world besides his wife. His +genius and benevolence gained him friends everywhere with both sexes, who +never suffered him to want, and who had never cause to complain of his +ingratitude. But he was always the special favourite of the Aspasias who +ruled France and her kings. To please them, he wrote a great deal of fine +poetry, much of which deserves to be everlastingly forgotten. It must be +said for him, that his vice became conspicuous only in the light of one +of his virtues. His frankness would never allow concealment. He +scandalized his friends Boileau and Racine; still, it is matter of doubt +whether they did not excel him rather in prudence than in purity. But, +whatever may be said in palliation, it is lamentable to think that a +heaven-lighted genius should have been made, in any way, to minister to a +hell-envenomed vice, which has caused unutterable woes to France and the +world. Some time before he died, he repented bitterly of this part of his +course, and laboured, no doubt sincerely, to repair the mischiefs he had +done.</p> + +<p>As we have already said, Jean was a backward boy. But, under a dull +exterior, the mental machinery was working splendidly within. He lacked +all that outside care and prudence,--that constant looking out for +breakers,--which obstruct the growth and ripening of the reflective +faculties. The vulgar, by a queer mistake, call a man <i>absent-minded</i>, +when his mind shuts the door, pulls in the latch-string, and is +wholly at home. La Fontaine's mind was exceedingly domestic. It was +nowhere but at home when, riding from Paris to Chateau-Thierry, a bundle +of papers fell from his saddle-bow without his perceiving it. The +mail-carrier, coming behind him, picked it up, and overtaking La +Fontaine, asked him if he had lost anything. "Certainly not," he replied, +looking about him with great surprise. "Well, I have just picked up these +papers," rejoined the other. "Ah! they are mine," cried La Fontaine; +"they involve my whole estate." And he eagerly reached to take them. On +another occasion he was equally at home. Stopping on a journey, he +ordered dinner at an hotel, and then took a ramble about the town. On his +return, he entered another hotel, and, passing through into the garden, +took from his pocket a copy of Livy, in which he quietly set himself to +read till his dinner should be ready. The book made him forget his +appetite, till a servant informed him of his mistake, and he returned to +his hotel just in time to pay his bill and proceed on his journey.</p> + +<p>It will be perceived that he took the world quietly, and his doing so +undoubtedly had important bearings on his style. We give another +anecdote, which illustrates this peculiarity of his mind as well as the +superlative folly of duelling. Not long after his marriage, with all his +indifference to his wife, he was persuaded into a fit of singular +jealousy. He was intimate with an ex-captain of dragoons, by name +Poignant, who had retired to Chateau-Thierry; a frank, open-hearted man, +but of extremely little gallantry. Whenever Poignant was not at his inn, +he was at La Fontaine's, and consequently with his wife, when he himself +was not at home. Some person took it in his head to ask La Fontaine why +he suffered these constant visits. "And why," said La Fontaine, "should I +not? He is my best friend." "The public think otherwise," was the reply; +"they say that he comes for the sake of Madame La Fontaine." "The public +is mistaken; but what must I do in the case?" said the poet. "You must +demand satisfaction, sword in hand, of one who has dishonoured you." +"Very well," said La Fontaine, "I will demand it." The next day he called +on Poignant, at four o'clock in the morning, and found him in bed. +"Rise," said he, "and come out with me!" His friend asked him what was +the matter, and what pressing business had brought him so early in the +morning. "I shall let you know," replied La Fontaine, "when we get +abroad." Poignant, in great astonishment, rose, followed him out, and +asked whither he was leading. "You shall know by-and-by," replied La +Fontaine; and at last, when they had reached a retired place, he said, +"My friend, we must fight." Poignant, still more surprised, sought to +know in what he had offended him, and moreover represented to him that +they were not on equal terms. "I am a man of war," said he, "while, as +for you, you have never drawn a sword." "No matter," said La Fontaine; +"the public requires that I should fight you." Poignant, after having +resisted in vain, at last drew his sword, and, having easily made himself +master of La Fontaine's, demanded the cause of the quarrel. "The public +maintains," said La Fontaine, "that you come to my house daily, not for +my sake, but my wife's." "Ah! my friend," replied the other, "I should +never have suspected that was the cause of your displeasure, and I +protest I will never again put a foot within your doors." "On the +contrary," replied La Fontaine, seizing him by the hand, "I have +satisfied the public, and now you must come to my house, every day, or I +will fight you again." The two antagonists returned, and breakfasted +together in good-humour.</p> + +<p>It was not, as we have said, till his twenty-second year, that La +Fontaine showed any taste for poetry. The occasion was this:--An officer, +in winter-quarters at Chateau-Thierry, one day read to him, with great +spirit, an ode of Malherbe, beginning thus--</p> +<pre> + Que direz-vous, races futures, + Si quelquefois un vrai discours + Vous récite les aventures + De nos abominables jours? +</pre> +<p>Or, as we might paraphrase it,--</p> +<pre> + What will ye say, ye future days, + If I, for once, in honest rhymes, + Recount to you the deeds and ways + Of our abominable times? +</pre> +<p>La Fontaine listened with involuntary transports of joy, admiration, and +astonishment, as if a man born with a genius for music, but brought up in +a desert, had for the first time heard a well-played instrument. He set +himself immediately to reading Malherbe, passed his nights in learning +his verses by heart, and his days in declaiming them in solitary places. +He also read Voiture, and began to write verses in imitation. Happily, at +this period, a relative named Pintrel directed his attention to ancient +literature, and advised him to make himself familiar with Horace, Homer, +Virgil, Terence, and Quinctilian. He accepted this counsel. M. de +Maucroix, another of his friends, who cultivated poetry with success, +also contributed to confirm his taste for the ancient models. His great +delight, however, was to read Plato and Plutarch, which he did only +through translations. The copies which he used are said to bear his +manuscript notes on almost every page, and these notes are the maxims +which are to be found in his fables. Returning from this study of the +ancients, he read the moderns with more discrimination. His favourites, +besides Malherbe, were Corneille, Rabelais, and Marot. In Italian, he +read Ariosto, Boccaccio, and Machiavel. In 1654 he published his first +work, a translation of the <i>Eunuch</i> of Terence. It met with no +success. But this does not seem at all to have disturbed its author. He +cultivated verse-making with as much ardour and good-humour as ever; and +his verses soon began to be admired in the circle of his friends. No man +had ever more devoted friends. Verses that have cost thought are not +relished without thought. When a genius appears, it takes some little +time for the world to educate itself to a knowledge of the fact. By one +of his friends, La Fontaine was introduced to Fouquet, the minister of +finance, a man of great power, and who rivalled his sovereign in wealth +and luxury. It was his pride to be the patron of literary men, and he was +pleased to make La Fontaine his poet, settling on him a pension of one +thousand francs per annum, on condition that he should produce a piece in +verse each quarter,--a condition which was exactly complied with till the +fall of the minister.</p> + +<p>Fouquet was a most splendid villain, and positively, though perhaps not +comparatively, deserved to fall. But it was enough for La Fontaine that +Fouquet had done him a kindness. He took the part of the disgraced +minister, without counting the cost. His "Elegy to the nymphs of Vaux" +was a shield to the fallen man, and turned popular hatred into sympathy. +The good-hearted poet rejoiced exceedingly in its success. <i>Bon-homme</i> +was the appellation which his friends pleasantly gave him, and by +which he became known everywhere;--and never did a man better deserve it +in its best sense. He was good by nature--not by the calculation of +consequences. Indeed it does not seem ever to have occurred to him that +kindness, gratitude, and truth, could have any other than good +consequences. He was truly a Frenchman without guile, and possessed to +perfection that comfortable trait,--in which French character is commonly +allowed to excel the English,--<i>good-humour</i> with the whole world.</p> + +<p>La Fontaine was the intimate friend of Molière, Boileau, and Racine. +Molière had already established a reputation; but the others became known +to the world at the same time. Boileau hired a small chamber in the +Faubourg Saint Germain, where they all met several times a week; for La +Fontaine, at the age of forty-four, had left Chateau-Thierry, and become +a citizen of Paris. Here they discussed all sorts of topics, admitting to +their society Chapelle, a man of less genius, but of greater +conversational powers, than either of them--a sort of connecting link +between them and the world. Four poets, or four men, could hardly have +been more unlike. Boileau was blustering, blunt, peremptory, but honest +and frank; Racine, of a pleasant and tranquil gaiety, but mischievous and +sarcastic; Molière was naturally considerate, pensive, and melancholy; La +Fontaine was often absent-minded, but sometimes exceedingly jovial, +delighting with his sallies, his witty <i>naïvetés</i>, and his arch +simplicity. These meetings, which no doubt had a great influence upon +French literature, La Fontaine, in one of his prefaces, thus +describes:--"Four friends, whose acquaintance had begun at the foot of +Parnassus, held a sort of society, which I should call an Academy, if +their number had been sufficiently great, and if they had had as much +regard for the Muses as for pleasure. The first thing which they did was +to banish from among them all rules of conversation, and everything which +savours of the academic conference. When they met, and had sufficiently +discussed their amusements, if chance threw them upon any point of +science or belles-lettres, they profited by the occasion; it was, +however, without dwelling too long on the same subject, flitting from one +thing to another like the bees that meet divers sorts of flowers on their +way. Neither envy, malice, nor cabal, had any voice among them. They +adored the works of the ancients, never refused due praise to those of +the moderns, spoke modestly of their own, and gave each other sincere +counsel, when any one of them--which rarely happened--fell into the +malady of the age, and published a book."</p> + +<p>The absent-mindedness of our fabulist not unfrequently created much +amusement on these occasions, and made him the object of mirthful +conspiracies. So keenly was the game pursued by Boileau and Racine, that +the more considerate Molière felt obliged sometimes to expose and rebuke +them. Once, after having done so, he privately told a stranger, who was +present with them, the wits would have worried themselves in vain; they +could not have obliterated the <i>bon-homme</i>.</p> + +<p>La Fontaine, as we have said, was an admirer of Rabelais;--to what a +pitch, the following anecdote may show. At one of the meetings at +Boileau's were present Racine, Valincourt, and a brother of Boileau's, a +doctor of the Sorbonne. The latter took it upon him to set forth the +merits of St. Augustin in a pompous eulogium. La Fontaine, plunged in one +of his habitual reveries, listened without hearing. At last, rousing +himself as if from a profound sleep, to prove that the conversation had +not been lost upon him, he asked the doctor, with a very serious air, +whether he thought St. Augustin had as much wit as Rabelais. The divine, +surprised, looked at him from head to foot, and only replied, "Take care, +Monsieur La Fontaine;--you have put one of your stockings on wrong side +outwards"--which was the fact.</p> + +<p>It was in 1668 that La Fontaine published his first collection of fables, +under the modest title <i>Fables Choisies, mises en Vers</i>, in a quarto +volume, with figures designed and engraved by Chauveau. It contained six +books, and was dedicated to the Dauphin. Many of the fables had already +been published in a separate form. The success of this collection was so +great, that it was reprinted the same year in a smaller size. Fables had +come to be regarded as beneath poetry; La Fontaine established them at +once on the top of Parnassus. The ablest poets of his age did not think +it beneath them to enter the lists with him; and it is needless to say +they came off second best.</p> + +<p>One of the fables of the first book is addressed to the Duke de la +Rochefoucauld, and was the consequence of a friendship between La +Fontaine and the author of the celebrated "Maxims." Connected with the +duke was Madame La Fayette, one of the most learned and ingenious women +of her age, who consequently became the admirer and friend of the +fabulist. To her he wrote verses abundantly, as he did to all who made +him the object of their kind regard. Indeed, notwithstanding his avowed +indolence, or rather passion for quiet and sleep, his pen was very +productive. In 1669, he published "Psyché," a romance in prose and verse, +which he dedicated to the Duchess de Bouillon, in gratitude for many +kindnesses. The prose is said to be better than the verse; but this can +hardly be true in respect to the following lines, in which the poet under +the apt name of Polyphile, in a hymn addressed to Pleasure, undoubtedly +sketches himself:--</p> +<pre> + Volupté, Volupté, qui fus jadis maîtresse + Du plus bel esprit de la Grèce, + Ne me dédaigne pas; viens-t'en loger chez moi: + Tu n'y seras pas sans emploi: + J'aime le jeu, l'amour, les livres, la musique, + La ville et la campagne, enfin tout; il n'est rien + Qui ne me soit souverain bien, + Jusqu'au sombre plaisir d'un coeur mélancolique. + Viens donc.... +</pre> +<p>The characteristic grace and playfulness of this seem to defy +translation. To the mere English reader, the sense may be roughly given +thus:--</p> +<pre> + Delight, Delight, who didst as mistress hold + The finest wit of Grecian mould, + Disdain not me; but come, + And make my house thy home. + Thou shalt not be without employ: + In play, love, music, books, I joy, + In town and country; and, indeed, there's nought, + E'en to the luxury of sober thought,-- + The sombre, melancholy mood,-- + But brings to me the sovereign good. + Come, then, &c. +</pre> +<p>The same Polyphile, in recounting his adventures on a visit to the +infernal regions, tells us that he saw, in the hands of the cruel +Eumenides,</p> +<pre> + ------Les auteurs de maint hymen forcé + L'amant chiche, et la dame au coeur intéressé; + La troupe des censeurs, peuple à l'Amour rebelle; + Ceux enfin dont les vers ont noirci quelque belle. + + ------Artificers of many a loveless match, + And lovers who but sought the pence to catch; + The crew censorious, rebels against Love; + And those whose verses soiled the fair above. +</pre> +<p>To be "rebels against Love" was quite unpardonable with La Fontaine; and +to bring about a "<i>hymen forcé</i>" was a crime, of which he probably +spoke with some personal feeling. The great popularity of "Psyché" +encouraged the author to publish two volumes of poems and tales in 1671, +in which were contained several new fables. The celebrated Madame de +Sévigné thus speaks of these fables, in one of her letters to her +daughter:--"But have you not admired the beauty of the five or six fables +of La Fontaine contained in one of the volumes which I sent you? We were +charmed with them the other day at M. de la Rochefoucauld's: we got by +art that of the Monkey and the Cat." Then, quoting some lines, she +adds,--"This is painting! And the Pumpkin--and the Nightingale--they are +worthy of the first volume!" It was in his stories that La Fontaine +excelled; and Madame de Sévigné expresses a wish to invent a fable which +would impress upon him the folly of leaving his peculiar province. He +seemed himself not insensible where his strength lay, and seldom ventured +upon any other ground, except at the instance of his friends. With all +his lightness, he felt a deep veneration for religion--the most spiritual +and rigid which came within the circle of his immediate acquaintance. He +admired Jansenius and the Port Royalists, and heartily loved Racine, who +was of their faith. Count Henri-Louis de Loménie, of Brienne,--who, after +being secretary of state, had retired to the Oratoire,--was engaged in +bringing out a better collection of Christian lyrics. To this work he +pressed La Fontaine, whom he called his particular friend, to lend his +name and contributions. Thus the author of "Psyché," "Adonis," and +"Joconde," was led to the composition of pious hymns, and versifications +of the Psalms of David. Gifted by nature with the utmost frankness of +disposition, he sympathized fully with Arnauld and Pascal in the war +against the Jesuits; and it would seem, from his <i>Ballade sur Escobar</i>, +that he had read and relished the "Provincial Letters." This +ballad, as it may be a curiosity to many, shall be given entire:--</p> + +<h4>BALLADE SUR ESCOBAR.</h4> +<pre> + C'est à bon droit que l'on condamne à Rome + L'évêque d'Ypré [<a href="#5">5</a>], auteur de vains débats; + Ses sectateurs nous défendent en somme + Tous les plaisirs que l'on goûte ici-bas. + En paradis allant au petit pas, + On y parvient, quoi qu'ARNAULD [<a href="#6">6</a>] nous en die: + La volupté sans cause il a bannie. + Veut-on monter sur les célestes tours, + Chemin pierreux est grande rêverie, + ESCOBAR [<a href="#7">7</a>] sait un chemin de velours. + + Il ne dit pas qu'on peut tuer un homme + Qui sans raison nous tient en altercas + Pour un fêtu ou bien pour une pomme; + Mais qu'on le peut pour quatre ou cinq ducats. + Même il soutient qu'on peut en certains cas + Faire un serment plein de supercherie, + S'abandonner aux douceurs de la vie, + S'il est besoin conserver ses amours. + Ne faut-il pas après cela qu'on crie: + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours? + + Au nom de Dieu, lisez-moi quelque somme + De ces écrits don't chez lui l'on fait cas. + Qu'est-il besoin qu'à present je les nomme? + II en est tant qu'on ne les connoît pas. + De leurs avis servez-vous pour compas; + N'admettez qu'eux en votre librairie; + Brûlez ARNAULD avec sa côterie, + Près d'ESCOBAR ce ne sont qu'esprits lourds. + Je vous le dis: ce n'est point raillerie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. + + ENVOI. + + Toi, que l'orgueil poussa dans la voirie, + Qui tiens là-bas noire concièrgerie, + Lucifer, chef des infernales cours, + Pour éviter les traits de ta furie, + ESCOBAR sait un chemin de velours. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="5">5</a>] <i>Corneille Jansenius</i>,--the originator of the sect called + Jansenists. Though he was bishop of Ypres, his chief work, + "Augustinus," and his doctrines generally, were condemned by Popes + Urban VIII. and Innocent X., as heretical (1641 and 1653).--Ed.<br> +[<a name="6">6</a>] <i>Arnauld</i>.--This was Antoine Arnauld, doctor of the Sorbonne, + and one of the Arnaulds famous among the Port Royalists, who were + Jansenists in opposition to the Jesuits. He was born in 1612, and + died a voluntary exile in Belgium, 1694. Boileau wrote his + epitaph.--Ed.<br> +[<a name="7">7</a>] <i>Escobar</i>.--A Spanish Jesuit, who flourished mostly in France, + and wrote against the Jansenists. Pascal, as well as La Fontaine, + ridiculed his convenient principles of morality, he "chemin de + velours," as La Fontaine puts it. His chief work in moral theology + was published in seven vols., folio, at Lyons, 1652-1663. He died in + 1669.--Ed.</p> + +<p>Thus does the <i>Bon-homme</i> treat the subtle Escobar, the prince and +prototype of the moralists of <i>expediency</i>. To translate his artless +and delicate irony is hardly possible. The writer of this hasty Preface +offers the following only as an attempted imitation:--</p> + +<h4>BALLAD UPON ESCOBAR.</h4> +<pre> + Good cause has Rome to reprobate + The bishop who disputes her so; + His followers reject and hate + All pleasures that we taste below. + To heaven an easy pace may go, + Whatever crazy ARNAULD saith, + Who aims at pleasure causeless wrath. + Seek we the better world afar? + We're fools to choose the rugged path: + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + Although he does not say you can, + Should one with you for nothing strive, + Or for a trifle, kill the man-- + You can for ducats four or five. + Indeed, if circumstances drive, + Defraud, or take false oaths you may, + Or to the charms of life give way, + When Love must needs the door unbar. + Henceforth must not the pilgrim say, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR? + + Now, would to God that one would state + The pith of all his works to me. + What boots it to enumerate? + As well attempt to drain the sea!-- + Your chart and compass let them be; + All other books put under ban; + Burn ARNAULD and his rigid clan-- + They're blockheads if we but compare;-- + It is no joke,--I tell you, man, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. + + ADDRESS. + + Thou warden of the prison black, + Who didst on heaven turn thy back, + The chieftain of th' infernal war! + To shun thy arrows and thy rack, + A velvet road hath ESCOBAR. +</pre> +<p>The verses of La Fontaine did more for his reputation than for his purse. +His paternal estate wasted away under his carelessness; for, when the +ends of the year refused to meet, he sold a piece of land sufficient to +make them do so. His wife, no better qualified to manage worldly gear +than himself, probably lived on her family friends, who were able to +support her, and who seem to have done so without blaming him. She had +lived with him in Paris for some time after that city became his +abode; but, tiring at length of the city life, she had returned at +Château-Thierry, and occupied the family mansion. At the earnest +expostulation of Boileau and Racine, who wished to make him a better +husband, he returned to Château-Thierry himself, in 1666, for the purpose +of becoming reconciled to his wife. But his purpose strangely vanished. +He called at his own house, learned from the domestic, who did not know +him, that Madame La Fontaine was in good health, and passed on to the +house of a friend, where he tarried two days, and then returned to Paris +without having seen his wife. When his friends inquired of him his +success, with some confusion he replied, "I have been to see her, but I +did not find her: she was well." Twenty years after that, Racine +prevailed on him to visit his patrimonial estate, to take some care of +what remained. Racine, not hearing from him, sent to know what he was +about, when La Fontaine wrote as follows:--"Poignant, on his return from +Paris, told me that you took my silence in very bad part; the worse, +because you had been told that I have been incessantly at work since my +arrival at Château-Thierry, and that, instead of applying myself to my +affairs, I have had nothing in my head but verses. All this is no more +than half true: my affairs occupy me as much as they deserve to--that is +to say not at all; but the leisure which they leave me--it is not poetry, +but idleness, which makes away with it." On a certain occasion, in the +earlier part of his life, when pressed in regard to his improvidence, he +gaily produced the following epigram, which has commonly been appended to +his fables as "The Epitaph of La Fontaine, written by Himself":--</p> +<pre> + Jean s'en alla comme il était venu, + Mangea le fonds avec le revenu, + Tint les trésors chose peu nécessaire. + Quant à son temps, bien sut le dispenser: + Deux parts en fit, don't il soûloit passer + L'urie à dormir, et l'autre à ne rien faire. +</pre> +<p>This confession, the immortality of which was so little foreseen by its +author, liberally rendered, amounts to the following:--</p> +<pre> + John went as he came--ate his farm with its fruits, + Held treasure to be but the cause of disputes; + And, as to his time, be it frankly confessed, + Divided it daily as suited him best,-- + Gave a part to his sleep, and to nothing the rest. +</pre> +<p>It is clear that a man who provided so little for himself needed good +friends to do it; and Heaven kindly furnished them. When his affairs +began to be straitened, he was invited by the celebrated Madame de la +Sablière to make her house his home; and there, in fact, he was +thoroughly domiciliated for twenty years. "I have sent away all my +domestics," said that lady, one day; "I have kept only my dog, my cat, +and La Fontaine." She was, perhaps, the best-educated woman in France, +was the mistress of several languages, knew Horace and Virgil by heart, +and had been thoroughly indoctrinated in all the sciences by the ablest +masters. Her husband, M. Rambouillet de la Sablière, was secretary to the +king, and register of domains, and to immense wealth united considerable +poetical talents, with a thorough knowledge of the world. It was the will +of Madame de la Sablière, that her favourite poet should have no further +care for his external wants; and never was a mortal more perfectly +resigned. He did all honour to the sincerity of his amiable hostess; and, +if he ever showed a want of independence, he certainly did not of +gratitude. Compliments of more touching tenderness we nowhere meet than +those which La Fontaine has paid to his benefactress. He published +nothing which was not first submitted to her eye, and entered into her +affairs and friendships with all his heart. Her unbounded confidence in +his integrity she expressed by saying, "La Fontaine never lies in +prose." By her death, in 1693, our fabulist was left without a home; but +his many friends vied with each other which should next furnish one. He +was then seventy-two years of age, had turned his attention to personal +religion, and received the seal of conversion at the hands of the Roman +Catholic church. In his conversion, as in the rest of his life, his +frankness left no room to doubt his sincerity. The writings which had +justly given offence to the good were made the subject of a public +confession, and everything in his power was done to prevent their +circulation. The death of one who had done so much for him, and whose +last days, devoted with the most self-denying benevolence to the welfare +of her species, had taught him a most salutary lesson, could not but be +deeply felt. He had just left the house of his deceased benefactress, +never again to enter it, when he met M. d'Hervart in the street, who +eagerly said to him, "My dear La Fontaine, I was looking for you, to beg +you to come and take lodgings in my house." "I was going thither," +replied La Fontaine. A reply could not have more characteristic. The +fabulist had not in him sufficient hypocrisy of which to manufacture the +commonplace politeness of society. His was the politeness of a warm and +unsuspecting heart. He never concealed his confidence in the fear that it +might turn out to be misplaced.</p> + +<p>His second collection of fables, containing five books, La Fontaine +published in 1678-9, with a dedication to Madame de Montespan; the +previous six books were republished at the same time, revised, and +enlarged. The twelfth book was not added till many years after, and +proved, in fact, the song of the dying swan. It was written for the +special use of the young Duke de Bourgogne, the royal pupil of Fénélon, +to whom it contains frequent allusions. The eleven books now published +sealed the reputation of La Fontaine, and were received with +distinguished regard by the king, who appended to the ordinary protocol +or imprimatur for publication the following reasons: "in order to testify +to the author the esteem we have for his person and his merit, and +because youth have received great advantage in their education from the +fables selected and put in verse, which he has heretofore published." The +author was, moreover, permitted to present his book in person to the +sovereign. For this purpose he repaired to Versailles, and after having +well delivered himself of his compliment to royalty, perceived that he +had forgotten to bring the book which he was to present; he was, +nevertheless, favourably received, and loaded with presents. But it is +added, that, on his return, he also lost, by his absence of mind, the +purse full of gold which the king had given him, which was happily found +under a cushion of the carriage in which he rode.</p> + +<p>In his advertisement to the second part of his Fables, La Fontaine +informs the reader that he had treated his subjects in a somewhat +different style. In fact, in his first collection, he had timidly +confined himself to the brevity of Aesop and Phaedrus; but, having +observed that those fables were most popular in which he had given most +scope to his own genius, he threw off the trammels in the second +collection, and, in the opinion of the writer, much for the better. His +subjects, too, in the second part, are frequently derived from the Indian +fabulists, and bring with them the richness and dramatic interest of the +<i>Hitopadesa</i>.</p> + +<p>Of all his fables, the Oak and the Reed is said to have been the +favourite of La Fontaine. But his critics have almost unanimously given +the palm of excellence to the Animals sick of the Plague, the first of +the seventh book. Its exquisite poetry, the perfection of its dialogue, +and the weight of its moral, well entitle it to the place. That must have +been a soul replete with honesty, which could read such a lesson in the +ears of a proud and oppressive court. Indeed, we may look in vain through +this encyclopaedia of fable for a sentiment which goes to justify the +strong in their oppression of the weak. Even in the midst of the fulsome +compliments which it was the fashion of his age to pay to royalty, La +Fontaine maintains a reserve and decency peculiar to himself. By an +examination of his fables, we think, we might fairly establish for him +the character of an honest and disinterested lover and respecter of his +species. In his fable entitled Death and the Dying, he unites the genius +of Pascal and Molière; in that of the Two Doves is a tenderness quite +peculiar to himself, and an insight into the heart worthy of Shakspeare. +In his Mogul's Dream are sentiments worthy of the very high-priest of +nature, and expressed in his own native tongue with a felicity which +makes the translator feel that all his labours are but vanity and +vexation of spirit. But it is not the purpose of this brief Preface to +criticize the Fables. It is sufficient to say, that the work occupies a +position in French literature, which, after all has been said that can be +for Gay, Moore, and other English versifiers of fables, is left quite +vacant in ours.</p> + +<p>Our author was elected a member of the French Academy in 1684, and +received with the honour of a public session. He read on this occasion a +poem of exquisite beauty, addressed to his benefactress, Madame de la +Sablière. In that distinguished body of men he was a universal favourite, +and none, perhaps, did more to promote its prime object--the improvement +of the French language. We have already seen how he was regarded by some +of the greatest minds of his age. Voltaire, who never did more than +justice to merit other than his own, said of the Fables, "I hardly know a +book which more abounds with charms adapted to the people, and at the +same time to persons of refined taste. I believe that, of all authors, La +Fontaine is the most universally read. He is for all minds and all +ages." La Bruyère, when admitted to the Academy, in 1693, was warmly +applauded for his <i>éloge</i> upon La Fontaine, which contained the +following words:--"More equal than Marot, and more poetical than Voiture, +La Fontaine has the playfulness, felicity, and artlessness of both. He +instructs while he sports, persuades men to virtue by means of beasts, +and exalts trifling subjects to the sublime; a man unique in his species +of composition, always original, whether he invents or translates,--who +has gone beyond his models, himself a model hard to imitate."</p> + +<p>La Fontaine, as we have said, devoted his latter days to religion. In +this he was sustained and cheered by his old friends Racine and De +Maucroix. Death overtook him while applying his poetical powers to the +hymns of the church. To De Maucroix he wrote, a little before his +death,--"I assure you that the best of your friends cannot count upon +more than fifteen days of life. For these two months I have not gone +abroad, except occasionally to attend the Academy, for a little +amusement. Yesterday, as I was returning from it, in the middle of the +Rue du Chantre, I was taken with such a faintness that I really thought +myself dying. O, my friend, to die is nothing: but think you how I am +going to appear before God! You know how I have lived. Before you receive +this billet, the gates of eternity will perhaps have been opened upon +me!" To this, a few days after, his friend replied,--"If God, in his +kindness, restores you to health, I hope you will come and spend the rest +of your life with me, and we shall often talk together of the mercies of +God. If, however, you have not strength to write, beg M. Racine to do me +that kindness, the greatest he can ever do for me. Adieu, my good, my +old, and my true friend. May God, in his infinite, goodness, take care of +the health of your body, and that of your soul." He died the 13th of +April, 1695, at the age of seventy-three, and was buried in the cemetery +of the Saints-Innocents.</p> + +<p>When Fénélon heard of his death, he wrote a Latin eulogium, which he gave +to his royal pupil to translate. "La Fontaine is no more!" said Fénélon, +in this composition; "he is no more! and with him have gone the playful +jokes, the merry laugh, the artless graces, and the sweet Muses."</p> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h2 style="text-align:center;">THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE</h2> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h4>To Monseigneur The Dauphin.[<a href="#01">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line, + Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, + Containeth truths it were not ill to teach. + With me all natures use the gift of speech; + Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach, + And to our human selves their sermons suit. + 'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute. + + Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies, + On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes, + Who hence shall count his conquests by his days, + And gather from the proudest lips his praise, + A louder voice than mine must tell in song + What virtues to thy kingly line belong. + I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes, + Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams; + And if to please thee shall not be my pride, + I'll gain at least the praise of having tried. +</pre> + +<p class="note">[<a name="01">1</a>] This dedication prefaced La Fontaine's first collection of his + Fables, which comprised Books I. to VI., published in 1668. The + Dauphin was Louis, the only son of Louis XIV. and Marie-Thérèse of + Austria. He was born at Fontainebleau in 1661, and died at Meudon in + 1712, before his father, the "Grand Monarque," had ceased to reign. + The Dauphin being but a child, between six and seven years old, at + the time of this dedication, La Fontaine's act may be viewed rather + as an offering to the King, than to the child himself. See the + Translator's Preface.</p> + + + <br><hr><br> + + +<h3><a name="I">BOOK</a> I.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="1I">I</a>.--THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.[<a href="#I1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A Grasshopper gay + Sang the summer away, + And found herself poor + By the winter's first roar. + Of meat or of bread, + Not a morsel she had! + So a begging she went, + To her neighbour the ant, + For the loan of some wheat, + Which would serve her to eat, + Till the season came round. + 'I will pay you,' she saith, + 'On an animal's faith, + Double weight in the pound + Ere the harvest be bound.' + The ant is a friend + (And here she might mend) + Little given to lend. + 'How spent you the summer?' + Quoth she, looking shame + At the borrowing dame. + 'Night and day to each comer + I sang, if you please.' + 'You sang! I'm at ease; + For 'tis plain at a glance, + Now, ma'am, you must dance.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I1">1</a>] For the story of this fable, as for the stories of so many of the + fables which follow, especially in the first six books, La Fontaine + is indebted to the Father of Fable, Aesop the Phrygian. See account + of Aesop in the Translator's Preface. +</p> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1II">II</a>.--THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.[<a href="#I2">2</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Perch'd on a lofty oak, + Sir Raven held a lunch of cheese; + Sir Fox, who smelt it in the breeze, + Thus to the holder spoke:-- + 'Ha! how do you do, Sir Raven? + Well, your coat, sir, is a brave one! + So black and glossy, on my word, sir, + With voice to match, you were a bird, sir, + Well fit to be the Phoenix of these days.' + Sir Raven, overset with praise, + Must show how musical his croak. + Down fell the luncheon from the oak; + Which snatching up, Sir Fox thus spoke:-- + 'The flatterer, my good sir, + Aye liveth on his listener; + Which lesson, if you please, + Is doubtless worth the cheese.' + A bit too late, Sir Raven swore + The rogue should never cheat him more. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I2">2</a>] Both Aesop and Phaedrus have a version of this fable.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1III">III</a>.--THE FROG THAT WISHED TO BE AS BIG AS THE OX.[<a href="#I3">3</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The tenant of a bog, + An envious little frog, + Not bigger than an egg, + A stately bullock spies, + And, smitten with his size, + Attempts to be as big. + With earnestness and pains, + She stretches, swells, and strains, + And says, 'Sis Frog, look here! see me! + Is this enough?' 'No, no.' + 'Well, then, is this?' 'Poh! poh! + Enough! you don't begin to be.' + And thus the reptile sits, + Enlarging till she splits. + The world is full of folks + Of just such wisdom;-- + The lordly dome provokes + The cit to build his dome; + And, really, there is no telling + How much great men set little ones a swelling. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I3">3</a>] The story of this fable is given in Horace, <i>Satires</i>, II. 3, + Phaedrus and Corrozet have also versions of it. For an account of + Phaedrus and his Fables see the Translator's Preface. Gilles Corrozet + was one of the French fabulists immediately preceding La Fontaine. + He was a Parisian bookseller-author who lived between 1516 and 1568.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1IV">IV</a>.--THE TWO MULES.</h4> +<pre> + Two mules were bearing on their backs, + One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.[<a href="#I4">4</a>] + The latter glorying in his load, + March'd proudly forward on the road; + And, from the jingle of his bell, + 'Twas plain he liked his burden well. + But in a wild-wood glen + A band of robber men + Rush'd forth upon the twain. + Well with the silver pleased, + They by the bridle seized + The treasure-mule so vain. + Poor mule! in struggling to repel + His ruthless foes, he fell + Stabb'd through; and with a bitter sighing, + He cried, 'Is this the lot they promised me? + My humble friend from danger free, + While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying?' + 'My friend,' his fellow-mule replied, + 'It is not well to have one's work too high. + If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I, + Thou wouldst not thus have died.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I4">4</a>] <i>The silver of the tax</i>.--An allusion to the French <i>gabelle + </i>, or old salt tax, which, like all taxes levied upon the mass of + the people, was a very productive one. Its collection caused several + peasants' insurrections.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1V">V</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE DOG.[<a href="#I5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin + (So strict the watch of dogs had been) + Hid little but his bones, + Once met a mastiff dog astray. + A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray, + No human mortal owns. + Sir Wolf in famish'd plight, + Would fain have made a ration + Upon his fat relation; + But then he first must fight; + And well the dog seem'd able + To save from wolfish table + His carcass snug and tight. + So, then, in civil conversation + The wolf express'd his admiration + Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely, + 'Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly; + Quit but the woods, advised by me. + For all your fellows here, I see, + Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, + Belike to die of haggard want. + With such a pack, of course it follows, + One fights for every bit he swallows. + Come, then, with me, and share + On equal terms our princely fare.' + 'But what with you + Has one to do?' + Inquires the wolf. 'Light work indeed,' + Replies the dog; 'you only need + To bark a little now and then, + To chase off duns and beggar men, + To fawn on friends that come or go forth, + Your master please, and so forth; + For which you have to eat + All sorts of well-cook'd meat-- + Cold pullets, pigeons, savoury messes-- + Besides unnumber'd fond caresses.' + The wolf, by force of appetite, + Accepts the terms outright, + Tears glistening in his eyes. + But faring on, he spies + A gall'd spot on the mastiff's neck. + 'What's that?' he cries. 'O, nothing but a speck.' + 'A speck?' 'Ay, ay; 'tis not enough to pain me; + Perhaps the collar's mark by which they chain me.' + 'Chain! chain you! What! run you not, then, + Just where you please, and when?' + 'Not always, sir; but what of that?' + 'Enough for me, to spoil your fat! + It ought to be a precious price + Which could to servile chains entice; + For me, I'll shun them while I've wit.' + So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I5">5</a>] Phaedrus, III. 7.--The references to the Fables of Phaedrus are to + Bohn's edition, which is from the critical edition of Orellius, 1831.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1VI">VI</a>.--THE HEIFER, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP, IN COMPANY WITH THE LION.[<a href="#I6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep, + Compacted their earnings in common to keep, + 'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd + Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade. + The goat, as it happen'd, a stag having snared, + Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared. + All gather'd; the lion first counts on his claws, + And says, 'We'll proceed to divide with our paws + The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws.' + This done, he announces part first as his own; + ''Tis mine,' he says, 'truly, as lion alone.' + To such a decision there's nought to be said, + As he who has made it is doubtless the head. + 'Well, also, the second to me should belong; + 'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong. + Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine. + To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign, + I'll choke him to death + In the space of a breath!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I6">6</a>] Phaedrus, I. 5. From this fable come the French proverbial + expression, <i>la part du lion</i>, and its English equivalent, the + "lion's share."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1VII">VII</a>.--THE WALLET.[<a href="#I7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, + 'Let all that live before my throne appear, + And there if any one hath aught to blame, + In matter, form, or texture of his frame, + He may bring forth his grievance without fear. + Redress shall instantly be given to each. + Come, monkey, now, first let us have your speech. + You see these quadrupeds, your brothers; + Comparing, then, yourself with others, + Are you well satisfied?' 'And wherefore not?' + Says Jock. 'Haven't I four trotters with the rest? + Is not my visage comely as the best? + But this my brother Bruin, is a blot + On thy creation fair; + And sooner than be painted I'd be shot, + Were I, great sire, a bear.' + The bear approaching, doth he make complaint? + Not he;--himself he lauds without restraint. + The elephant he needs must criticize; + To crop his ears and stretch his tail were wise; + A creature he of huge, misshapen size. + The elephant, though famed as beast judicious, + While on his own account he had no wishes, + Pronounced dame whale too big to suit his taste; + Of flesh and fat she was a perfect waste. + The little ant, again, pronounced the gnat too wee; + To such a speck, a vast colossus she. + Each censured by the rest, himself content, + Back to their homes all living things were sent. + Such folly liveth yet with human fools. + For others lynxes, for ourselves but moles. + Great blemishes in other men we spy, + Which in ourselves we pass most kindly by. + As in this world we're but way-farers, + Kind Heaven has made us wallet-bearers. + The pouch behind our own defects must store, + The faults of others lodge in that before. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I7">7</a>] One of Aesop's: Phaedrus also gives it, Book IV. 10.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1VIII">VIII</a>.--THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.[<a href="#I8">8</a>]</h4> +<pre> + By voyages in air, + With constant thought and care, + Much knowledge had a swallow gain'd, + Which she for public use retain'd, + The slightest storms she well foreknew, + And told the sailors ere they blew. + A farmer sowing hemp, once having found, + She gather'd all the little birds around, + And said, 'My friends, the freedom let me take + To prophesy a little, for your sake, + Against this dangerous seed. + Though such a bird as I + Knows how to hide or fly, + You birds a caution need. + See you that waving hand? + It scatters on the land + What well may cause alarm. + 'Twill grow to nets and snares, + To catch you unawares, + And work you fatal harm! + Great multitudes I fear, + Of you, my birdies dear, + That falling seed, so little, + Will bring to cage or kettle! + But though so perilous the plot, + You now may easily defeat it: + All lighting on the seeded spot, + Just scratch up every seed and eat it.' + The little birds took little heed, + So fed were they with other seed. + Anon the field was seen + Bedeck'd in tender green. + The swallow's warning voice was heard again: + 'My friends, the product of that deadly grain, + Seize now, and pull it root by root, + Or surely you'll repent its fruit.' + 'False, babbling prophetess,' says one, + 'You'd set us at some pretty fun! + To pull this field a thousand birds are needed, + While thousands more with hemp are seeded.' + The crop now quite mature, + The swallow adds, 'Thus far I've fail'd of cure; + I've prophesied in vain + Against this fatal grain: + It's grown. And now, my bonny birds, + Though you have disbelieved my words + Thus far, take heed at last,-- + When you shall see the seed-time past, + And men, no crops to labour for, + On birds shall wage their cruel war, + With deadly net and noose; + Of flying then beware, + Unless you take the air, + Like woodcock, crane, or goose. + But stop; you're not in plight + For such adventurous flight, + O'er desert waves and sands, + In search of other lands. + Hence, then, to save your precious souls, + Remaineth but to say, + 'Twill be the safest way, + To chuck yourselves in holes.' + Before she had thus far gone, + The birdlings, tired of hearing, + And laughing more than fearing, + Set up a greater jargon + Than did, before the Trojan slaughter, + The Trojans round old Priam's daughter.[<a href="#I9">9</a>] + And many a bird, in prison grate, + Lamented soon a Trojan fate. + + 'Tis thus we heed no instincts but our own; + Believe no evil till the evil's done. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I8">8</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="I9">9</a>] <i>Priam's daughter</i>.--Cassandra, who predicted the fall of Troy, + and was not heeded.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1IX">IX</a>.--THE CITY RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.[<a href="#I10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A city rat, one night, + Did, with a civil stoop, + A country rat invite + To end a turtle soup. + + Upon a Turkey carpet + They found the table spread, + And sure I need not harp it + How well the fellows fed. + + The entertainment was + A truly noble one; + But some unlucky cause + Disturb'd it when begun. + + It was a slight rat-tat, + That put their joys to rout; + Out ran the city rat; + His guest, too, scamper'd out. + + Our rats but fairly quit, + The fearful knocking ceased. + 'Return we,' cried the cit, + To finish there our feast. + + 'No,' said the rustic rat; + 'To-morrow dine with me. + I'm not offended at + Your feast so grand and free,-- + + 'For I've no fare resembling; + But then I eat at leisure, + And would not swap, for pleasure + So mix'd with fear and trembling.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I10">10</a>] Horace, <i>Satires</i>, II. 6: also in Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1X">X</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.[<a href="#I11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + That innocence is not a shield, + A story teaches, not the longest. + The strongest reasons always yield + To reasons of the strongest. + + A lamb her thirst was slaking, + Once, at a mountain rill. + A hungry wolf was taking + His hunt for sheep to kill, + When, spying on the streamlet's brink + This sheep of tender age, + He howl'd in tones of rage, + 'How dare you roil my drink? + Your impudence I shall chastise!' + 'Let not your majesty,' the lamb replies, + 'Decide in haste or passion! + For sure 'tis difficult to think + In what respect or fashion + My drinking here could roil your drink, + Since on the stream your majesty now faces + I'm lower down, full twenty paces.' + 'You roil it,' said the wolf; 'and, more, I know + You cursed and slander'd me a year ago.' + 'O no! how could I such a thing have done! + A lamb that has not seen a year, + A suckling of its mother dear?' + 'Your brother then.' 'But brother I have none.' + 'Well, well, what's all the same, + 'Twas some one of your name. + Sheep, men, and dogs of every nation, + Are wont to stab my reputation, + As I have truly heard.' + Without another word, + He made his vengeance good-- + Bore off the lambkin to the wood, + And there, without a jury, + Judged, slew, and ate her in his fury. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I11">11</a>] Phaedrus, I. 1: also in Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XI">XI</a>.--THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.[<a href="#I12">12</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To M. The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.</p> +<pre> + A man, who had no rivals in the love + Which to himself he bore, + Esteem'd his own dear beauty far above + What earth had seen before. + More than contented in his error, + He lived the foe of every mirror. + Officious fate, resolved our lover + From such an illness should recover, + Presented always to his eyes + The mute advisers which the ladies prize;-- + Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops,-- + Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops,-- + Mirrors on every lady's zone,[<a href="#I13">13</a>] + From which his face reflected shone. + What could our dear Narcissus do? + From haunts of men he now withdrew, + On purpose that his precious shape + From every mirror might escape. + But in his forest glen alone, + Apart from human trace, + A watercourse, + Of purest source, + While with unconscious gaze + He pierced its waveless face, + Reflected back his own. + Incensed with mingled rage and fright, + He seeks to shun the odious sight; + But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still, + He cannot leave, do what he will. + + Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see. + From such mistake there is no mortal free. + That obstinate self-lover + The human soul doth cover; + The mirrors follies are of others, + In which, as all are genuine brothers, + Each soul may see to life depicted + Itself with just such faults afflicted; + And by that charming placid brook, + Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I12">12</a>] This is one of La Fontaine's most admired fables, and is one of the + few for which he did not go for the groundwork to some older + fabulist. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, to whom it was dedicated, + was the author of the famous "Reflexions et Maximes Morales," which + La Fontaine praises in the last lines of his fable. La + Rochefoucauld was La Fontaine's friend and patron. The "Maximes" + had achieved a second edition just prior to La Fontaine's + publication of this first series of his Fables, in 1668. "The + Rabbits" (<a href="#10XV">Book X., Fable 15.</a>), published in the second collection, + in 1678-9, is also dedicated to the Duke, who died the following + year, 1680. See Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="I13">13</a>] <i>Lady's zone</i>.--One of La Fontaine's commentators remarks upon + this passage that it is no exaggeration of the foppishness of the + times in which the poet wrote, and cites the instance that the + canons of St. Martin of Tours wore mirrors on their shoes, even + while officiating in church.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XII">XII</a>.--THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND THE DRAGON WITH MANY TAILS.[<a href="#I14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + An envoy of the Porte Sublime, + As history says, once on a time, + Before th' imperial German court[<a href="#I15">15</a>] + Did rather boastfully report, + The troops commanded by his master's firman, + As being a stronger army than the German: + To which replied a Dutch attendant, + 'Our prince has more than one dependant + Who keeps an army at his own expense.' + The Turk, a man of sense, + Rejoin'd, 'I am aware + What power your emperor's servants share. + It brings to mind a tale both strange and true, + A thing which once, myself, I chanced to view. + I saw come darting through a hedge, + Which fortified a rocky ledge, + A hydra's hundred heads; and in a trice + My blood was turning into ice. + But less the harm than terror,-- + The body came no nearer; + Nor could, unless it had been sunder'd, + To parts at least a hundred. + While musing deeply on this sight, + Another dragon came to light, + Whose single head avails + To lead a hundred tails: + And, seized with juster fright, + I saw him pass the hedge,-- + Head, body, tails,--a wedge + Of living and resistless powers.-- + The other was your emperor's force; this ours.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I14">14</a>] The original of this fable has been attributed to the chief who + made himself Emperor of Tartary and called himself Ghengis Khan (b. + 1164, d. 1227). He is said to have applied the fable to the Great + Mogul and his innumerable dependent potentates.<br> +[<a name="I15">15</a>] <i>German court</i>.--The court of the "Holy Roman Empire" is here + meant.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XIII">XIII</a>.--THE THIEVES AND THE ASS.[<a href="#I16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two thieves, pursuing their profession, + Had of a donkey got possession, + Whereon a strife arose, + Which went from words to blows. + The question was, to sell, or not to sell; + But while our sturdy champions fought it well, + Another thief, who chanced to pass, + With ready wit rode off the ass. + + This ass is, by interpretation, + Some province poor, or prostrate nation. + The thieves are princes this and that, + On spoils and plunder prone to fat,-- + As those of Austria, Turkey, Hungary. + (Instead of two, I've quoted three-- + Enough of such commodity.) + These powers engaged in war all, + Some fourth thief stops the quarrel, + According all to one key, + By riding off the donkey. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I16">16</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XIV">XIV</a>.--SIMONIDES PRESERVED BY THE GODS.[<a href="#I17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Three sorts there are, as Malherbe[<a href="#I18">18</a>] says, + Which one can never overpraise-- + The gods, the ladies, and the king; + And I, for one, endorse the thing. + The heart, praise tickles and entices; + Of fair one's smile, it oft the price is. + See how the gods sometimes repay it. + Simonides--the ancients say it-- + Once undertook, in poem lyric, + To write a wrestler's panegyric; + Which, ere he had proceeded far in, + He found his subject somewhat barren. + No ancestors of great renown; + His sire of some unnoted town; + Himself as little known to fame, + The wrestler's praise was rather tame. + The poet, having made the most of + Whate'er his hero had to boast of, + Digress'd, by choice that was not all luck's, + To Castor and his brother Pollux; + Whose bright career was subject ample, + For wrestlers, sure, a good example. + Our poet fatten'd on their story, + Gave every fight its place and glory, + Till of his panegyric words + These deities had got two-thirds. + All done, the poet's fee + A talent was to be. + But when he comes his bill to settle, + The wrestler, with a spice of mettle, + Pays down a third, and tells the poet, + 'The balance they may pay who owe it. + The gods than I are rather debtors + To such a pious man of letters. + But still I shall be greatly pleased + To have your presence at my feast, + Among a knot of guests select, + My kin, and friends I most respect.' + More fond of character than coffer, + Simonides accepts the offer. + While at the feast the party sit, + And wine provokes the flow of wit, + It is announced that at the gate + Two men, in haste that cannot wait, + Would see the bard. He leaves the table, + No loss at all to 'ts noisy gabble. + The men were Leda's twins, who knew + What to a poet's praise was due, + And, thanking, paid him by foretelling + The downfall of the wrestler's dwelling. + From which ill-fated pile, indeed, + No sooner was the poet freed, + Than, props and pillars failing, + Which held aloft the ceiling + So splendid o'er them, + It downward loudly crash'd, + The plates and flagons dash'd, + And men who bore them; + And, what was worse, + Full vengeance for the man of verse, + A timber broke the wrestler's thighs, + And wounded many otherwise. + The gossip Fame, of course, took care + Abroad to publish this affair. + 'A miracle!' the public cried, delighted. + No more could god-beloved bard be slighted. + His verse now brought him more than double, + With neither duns, nor care, nor trouble. + Whoe'er laid claim to noble birth + Must buy his ancestors a slice, + Resolved no nobleman on earth + Should overgo him in the price. + From which these serious lessons flow:-- + Fail not your praises to bestow + On gods and godlike men. Again, + To sell the product of her pain + Is not degrading to the Muse. + Indeed, her art they do abuse, + Who think her wares to use, + And yet a liberal pay refuse. + Whate'er the great confer upon her, + They're honour'd by it while they honour. + Of old, Olympus and Parnassus + In friendship heaved their sky-crown'd masses. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I17">17</a>] Phaedrus, IV. 24.<br> +[<a name="I18">18</a>] <i>Malherbe</i>.--See <a href="#III3">note to Fable I., Book III</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XV">XV</a>.--DEATH AND THE UNFORTUNATE.[<a href="#I19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A poor unfortunate, from day to day, + Call'd Death to take him from this world away. + 'O Death' he said, 'to me how fair thy form! + Come quick, and end for me life's cruel storm.' + Death heard, and with a ghastly grin, + Knock'd at his door, and enter'd in + 'Take out this object from my sight!' + The poor man loudly cried. + 'Its dreadful looks I can't abide; + O stay him, stay him' let him come no nigher; + O Death! O Death! I pray thee to retire!' + + A gentleman of note + In Rome, Maecenas,[<a href="#I20">20</a>] somewhere wrote:-- + "Make me the poorest wretch that begs, + Sore, hungry, crippled, clothed in rags, + In hopeless impotence of arms and legs; + Provided, after all, you give + The one sweet liberty to live: + I'll ask of Death no greater favour + Than just to stay away for ever." +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I19">19</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="I20">20</a>] <i>Maecenas</i>.--Seneca's Epistles, CI.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XVI">XVI</a>.--DEATH AND THE WOODMAN.[<a href="#I21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load, + Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd, + Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest, + Trudged wearily along his homeward road. + At last his wood upon the ground he throws, + And sits him down to think o'er all his woes. + To joy a stranger, since his hapless birth, + What poorer wretch upon this rolling earth? + No bread sometimes, and ne'er a moment's rest; + Wife, children, soldiers, landlords, public tax, + All wait the swinging of his old, worn axe, + And paint the veriest picture of a man unblest. + On Death he calls. Forthwith that monarch grim + Appears, and asks what he should do for him. + 'Not much, indeed; a little help I lack-- + To put these fagots on my back.' + + Death ready stands all ills to cure; + But let us not his cure invite. + Than die, 'tis better to endure,-- + Is both a manly maxim and a right. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I21">21</a>] Aesop: it is also in Corrozet's fables.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XVII">XVII</a>.--THE MAN BETWEEN TWO AGES, AND HIS TWO MISTRESSES.[<a href="#I22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man of middle age, whose hair + Was bordering on the grey, + Began to turn his thoughts and care + The matrimonial way. + By virtue of his ready, + A store of choices had he + Of ladies bent to suit his taste; + On which account he made no haste. + To court well was no trifling art. + Two widows chiefly gain'd his heart; + The one yet green, the other more mature, + Who found for nature's wane in art a cure. + These dames, amidst their joking and caressing + The man they long'd to wed, + Would sometimes set themselves to dressing + His party-colour'd head. + Each aiming to assimilate + Her lover to her own estate, + The older piecemeal stole + The black hair from his poll, + While eke, with fingers light, + The young one stole the white. + Between them both, as if by scald, + His head was changed from grey to bald. + 'For these,' he said, 'your gentle pranks, + I owe you, ladies, many thanks. + By being thus well shaved, + I less have lost than saved. + Of Hymen, yet, no news at hand, + I do assure ye. + By what I've lost, I understand + It is in your way, + Not mine, that I must pass on. + Thanks, ladies, for the lesson.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I22">22</a>] Phaedrus, II.2: Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE FOX AND THE STORK.[<a href="#I23">23</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, + To dine old Mistress Stork. + The fare was light, was nothing, sooth to say, + Requiring knife and fork. + That sly old gentleman, the dinner-giver, + Was, you must understand, a frugal liver. + This once, at least, the total matter + Was thinnish soup served on a platter, + For madam's slender beak a fruitless puzzle, + Till all had pass'd the fox's lapping muzzle. + But, little relishing his laughter, + Old gossip Stork, some few days after, + Return'd his Foxship's invitation. + Without a moment's hesitation, + He said he'd go, for he must own he + Ne'er stood with friends for ceremony. + And so, precisely at the hour, + He hied him to the lady's bower; + Where, praising her politeness, + He finds her dinner right nice. + Its punctuality and plenty, + Its viands, cut in mouthfuls dainty, + Its fragrant smell, were powerful to excite, + Had there been need, his foxish appetite. + But now the dame, to torture him, + Such wit was in her, + Served up her dinner + In vases made so tall and slim, + They let their owner's beak pass in and out, + But not, by any means, the fox's snout! + All arts without avail, + With drooping head and tail, + As ought a fox a fowl had cheated, + The hungry guest at last retreated. + + Ye knaves, for you is this recital, + You'll often meet Dame Stork's requital. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I23">23</a>] Phaedrus, I. 26; also in Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XIX">XIX</a>.--THE BOY AND THE SCHOOLMASTER.[<a href="#I24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Wise counsel is not always wise, + As this my tale exemplifies. + A boy, that frolick'd on the banks of Seine, + Fell in, and would have found a watery grave, + Had not that hand that planteth ne'er in vain + A willow planted there, his life to save. + While hanging by its branches as he might, + A certain sage preceptor came in sight; + To whom the urchin cried, 'Save, or I'm drown'd!' + The master, turning gravely at the sound, + Thought proper for a while to stand aloof, + And give the boy some seasonable reproof. + 'You little wretch! this comes of foolish playing, + Commands and precepts disobeying. + A naughty rogue, no doubt, you are, + Who thus requite your parents' care. + Alas! their lot I pity much, + Whom fate condemns to watch o'er such.' + This having coolly said, and more, + He pull'd the drowning lad ashore. + + This story hits more marks than you suppose. + All critics, pedants, men of endless prose,-- + Three sorts, so richly bless'd with progeny, + The house is bless'd that doth not lodge any,-- + May in it see themselves from head to toes. + No matter what the task, + Their precious tongues must teach; + Their help in need you ask, + You first must hear them preach. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I24">24</a>] A fable telling this story is in the collection of Arabic fables + which bear the name of Locman, or Lokman, a personage some identify + with Aesop himself. Lokman is said to have flourished about 1050 + B.C.; and even as the "Phrygian slave"--Aesop was said to have been + very ugly, so Lokman is described as "an ugly black slave." See + Translator's Preface. Rabelais also has a version of the story of + this fable, <i>vide Gargantua</i>, Book I. ch. xlii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XX">XX</a>.--THE COCK AND THE PEARL.[<a href="#I25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A cock scratch'd up, one day, + A pearl of purest ray, + Which to a jeweller he bore. + 'I think it fine,' he said, + 'But yet a crumb of bread + To me were worth a great deal more.' + + So did a dunce inherit + A manuscript of merit, + Which to a publisher he bore. + ''Tis good,' said he, 'I'm told, + Yet any coin of gold + To me were worth a great deal more.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I25">25</a>] Phaedrus, III. 11.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XXI">XXI</a>.--THE HORNETS AND THE BEES.[<a href="#I26">26</a>]</h4> +<pre> + "The artist by his work is known."-- + A piece of honey-comb, one day, + Discover'd as a waif and stray, + The hornets treated as their own. + Their title did the bees dispute, + And brought before a wasp the suit. + The judge was puzzled to decide, + For nothing could be testified + Save that around this honey-comb + There had been seen, as if at home, + Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, + Much like the bees in wings and features. + But what of that? for marks the same, + The hornets, too, could truly claim. + Between assertion, and denial, + The wasp, in doubt, proclaim'd new trial; + And, hearing what an ant-hill swore, + Could see no clearer than before. + 'What use, I pray, of this expense?' + At last exclaim'd a bee of sense. + 'We've labour'd months in this affair, + And now are only where we were. + Meanwhile the honey runs to waste: + 'Tis time the judge should show some haste. + The parties, sure, have had sufficient bleeding, + Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading. + Let's set ourselves at work, these drones and we, + And then all eyes the truth may plainly see, + Whose art it is that can produce + The magic cells, the nectar juice.' + The hornets, flinching on their part, + Show that the work transcends their art. + The wasp at length their title sees, + And gives the honey to the bees. + Would God that suits at laws with us + Might all be managed thus! + That we might, in the Turkish mode, + Have simple common sense for code! + They then were short and cheap affairs, + Instead of stretching on like ditches, + Ingulfing in their course all riches,-- + The parties leaving for their shares, + The shells (and shells there might be moister) + From which the court has suck'd the oyster.[27] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I26">26</a>] Phaedrus, III. 12.<br> +[<a name="I27">27</a>] <i>The court has suck'd the oyster</i>.--The humorous idea of the + lawyers, the litigants, and the oyster, is more fully treated in + <a href="#9IX">Fable IX., Book IX</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="1XXII">XXII</a>.--THE OAK AND THE REED.[<a href="#I28">28</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The oak one day address'd the reed:-- + 'To you ungenerous indeed + Has nature been, my humble friend, + With weakness aye obliged to bend. + The smallest bird that flits in air + Is quite too much for you to bear; + The slightest wind that wreathes the lake + Your ever-trembling head doth shake. + The while, my towering form + Dares with the mountain top + The solar blaze to stop, + And wrestle with the storm. + What seems to you the blast of death, + To me is but a zephyr's breath. + Beneath my branches had you grown, + That spread far round their friendly bower, + Less suffering would your life have known, + Defended from the tempest's power. + Unhappily you oftenest show + In open air your slender form, + Along the marshes wet and low, + That fringe the kingdom of the storm. + To you, declare I must, + Dame Nature seems unjust.' + Then modestly replied the reed: + 'Your pity, sir, is kind indeed, + But wholly needless for my sake. + The wildest wind that ever blew + Is safe to me compared with you. + I bend, indeed, but never break. + Thus far, I own, the hurricane + Has beat your sturdy back in vain; + But wait the end.' Just at the word, + The tempest's hollow voice was heard. + The North sent forth her fiercest child, + Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild. + The oak, erect, endured the blow; + The reed bow'd gracefully and low. + But, gathering up its strength once more, + In greater fury than before, + The savage blast + O'erthrew, at last, + That proud, old, sky-encircled head, + Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead![<a href="#I29">29</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="I28">28</a>] The groundwork of this fable is in Aesop, and also in the Fables of + Avianus. Flavius Avianus lived in the fifth century. His Aesopian + Fables were written in Latin verse. Caxton printed "The Fables of + Avian, translated into Englyshe" at the end of his edition of Aesop.<br> +[<a name="I29">29</a>] This fable and "The Animals Sick of the Plague" (<a href="#7I">Fable I., Book + VII.</a>), are generally deemed La Fontaine's two best fables. "The Oak + and the Reed" is held to be the perfection of classical fable, + while "The Animals Sick of the Plague" is esteemed for its fine + poetic feeling conjoined with its excellent moral teaching. See + Translator's Preface.</p> + + + <br><hr><br> + + +<h3><a name="II">BOOK</a> II.</h3> + +<br><hr><br> +<h4><a name="2I">I</a>.--AGAINST THE HARD TO SUIT.[<a href="#II1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Were I a pet of fair Calliope, + I would devote the gifts conferr'd on me + To dress in verse old Aesop's lies divine; + For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine; + But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, + I dare not arrogate the magic skill, + To ornament these charming stories. + A bard might brighten up their glories, + No doubt. I try,--what one more wise must do. + Thus much I have accomplish'd hitherto:-- + By help of my translation, + The beasts hold conversation, + In French, as ne'er they did before. + Indeed, to claim a little more, + The plants and trees,[<a href="#II2">2</a>] with smiling features, + Are turn'd by me to talking creatures. + Who says, that this is not enchanting? + 'Ah,' says the critics, 'hear what vaunting! + From one whose work, all told, no more is + Than half-a-dozen baby stories.'[<a href="#II3">3</a>] + Would you a theme more credible, my censors, + In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? + Then list! For ten long years the men of Troy, + By means that only heroes can employ, + Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay,-- + Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, + Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, + Their blood of thousand heroes, all in vain,-- + When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, + Of lofty size before their city stood, + Whose flanks immense the sage Ulysses hold, + Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, + Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine + Would bear within the fated town unseen, + To wreak upon its very gods their rage-- + Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. + Which well its crafty authors did repay.... + 'Enough, enough,' our critic folks will say; + 'Your period excites alarm, + Lest you should do your lungs some harm; + And then your monstrous wooden horse, + With squadrons in it at their ease, + Is even harder to endorse + Than Renard cheating Raven of his cheese. + And, more than that, it fits you ill + To wield the old heroic quill.' + Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is:-- + Long sigh'd and pined the jealous Amaryllis + For her Alcippus, in the sad belief, + None, save her sheep and dog, would know her grief. + Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, + And hears the gentle shepherdess's lips + Beseech the kind and gentle zephyr + To bear these accents to her lover.... + 'Stop!' says my censor: + 'To laws of rhyme quite irreducible, + That couplet needs again the crucible; + Poetic men, sir, + Must nicely shun the shocks + Of rhymes unorthodox.' + A curse on critics! hold your tongue! + Know I not how to end my song? + Of time and strength what greater waste + Than my attempt to suit your taste? + + Some men, more nice than wise, + There's nought that satisfies. +</pre> + +<p class="note">[<a name="II1">1</a>] Phaedrus, Book IV. 7.<br> +[<a name="II2">2</a>] <i>The plants and trees</i>.--Aristotle's rule for pure fable is + that its <i>dramatis personae</i> should be animals only--excluding + man. Dr. Johnson (writing upon Gay's Fables) agrees in this dictum + "generally." But hardly any of the fabulists, from Aesop downwards, + seem to have bound themselves by the rule; and in this fable we have + La Fontaine rather exulting in his assignment of speech, &c., not + only to the lower animals but to "plants and trees," &c., as well as + otherwise defying the "hard to suit," <i>i.e.</i>, the critics.<br> +[<a name="II3">3</a>] <i>Half-a-dozen baby stories</i>.--Here La Fontaine exalts his muse + as a fabulist. This is in reply to certain of his critics who + pronounced his work puerile, and pretended to wish him to adopt the + higher forms of poetry. Some of the fables of the first six Books + were originally published in a semi-private way before 1668. See the + Translators Preface. La Fontaine defends his art as a writer of + fables also in Book III. (<a href="#3I">Fable I.</a>); Book V. (<a href="#5I">Fable I.</a>); Book VI. + (<a href="#6I">Fable I.</a>); Book VII. (<a href="#VII">Introduction</a>); Book VIII. (<a href="#8IV">Fable IV.</a>), and + Book IX. (<a href="#9I">Fable I</a>).</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2II">II</a>.--THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS [<a href="#II4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Old Rodilard,[<a href="#II5">5</a>] a certain cat, + Such havoc of the rats had made, + 'Twas difficult to find a rat + With nature's debt unpaid. + The few that did remain, + To leave their holes afraid, + From usual food abstain, + Not eating half their fill. + And wonder no one will + That one who made of rats his revel, + With rats pass'd not for cat, but devil. + Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater, + Who had a wife, went out to meet her; + And while he held his caterwauling, + The unkill'd rats, their chapter calling, + Discuss'd the point, in grave debate, + How they might shun impending fate. + Their dean, a prudent rat, + Thought best, and better soon than late, + To bell the fatal cat; + That, when he took his hunting round, + The rats, well caution'd by the sound, + Might hide in safety under ground; + Indeed he knew no other means. + And all the rest + At once confess'd + Their minds were with the dean's. + No better plan, they all believed, + Could possibly have been conceived, + No doubt the thing would work right well, + If any one would hang the bell. + But, one by one, said every rat, + 'I'm not so big a fool as that.' + The plan, knock'd up in this respect, + The council closed without effect. + + And many a council I have seen, + Or reverend chapter with its dean, + That, thus resolving wisely, + Fell through like this precisely. + + To argue or refute + Wise counsellors abound; + The man to execute + Is harder to be found. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II4">4</a>] Faerno and Abstemius both have fables upon this subject. Gabriel + Faerno (1500-1561) was an Italian writer who published fables in + Latin. Perrault translated these into French verse, and published + them at Paris in 1699. Faerno was also a famous editor of Terence. + Laurentius Abstemius, or Astemio, was an Italian fabulist of the + fifteenth century. After their first publication his fables often + appeared in editions of Aesop.<br> +[<a name="II5">5</a>] <i>Rodilard</i>.--The name no doubt taken from the famous cat + Rodilardus (bacon-gnawer), in Rabelais, <i>Pantagruel</i>, IV., ch. + LXVII.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2III">III</a>.--THE WOLF ACCUSING THE FOX BEFORE THE MONKEY.[<a href="#II6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A wolf, affirming his belief + That he had suffer'd by a thief, + Brought up his neighbour fox-- + Of whom it was by all confess'd, + His character was not the best-- + To fill the prisoner's box. + As judge between these vermin, + A monkey graced the ermine; + And truly other gifts of Themis[<a href="#II7">7</a>] + Did scarcely seem his; + For while each party plead his cause, + Appealing boldly to the laws, + And much the question vex'd, + Our monkey sat perplex'd. + Their words and wrath expended, + Their strife at length was ended; + When, by their malice taught, + The judge this judgment brought: + 'Your characters, my friends, I long have known, + As on this trial clearly shown; + And hence I fine you both--the grounds at large + To state would little profit-- + You wolf, in short, as bringing groundless charge, + You fox, as guilty of it.' + + Come at it right or wrong, the judge opined + No other than a villain could be fined.[<a href="#II8">8</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II6">6</a>] Phaedrus, I. 10.<br> +[<a name="II7">7</a>] <i>Themis</i>.--The goddess of Justice.<br> +[<a name="II8">8</a>] So Philip of Macedon is said to have decided a suit by condemning + the defendant to banishment and the plaintiff to follow him. The + wisdom of each decision lies in taking advantage of a doubtful case + to convict two well-known rogues of--previous bad character.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2IV">IV</a>.--THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG.[<a href="#II9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two bulls engaged in shocking battle, + Both for a certain heifer's sake, + And lordship over certain cattle, + A frog began to groan and quake. + 'But what is this to you?' + Inquired another of the croaking crew. + 'Why, sister, don't you see, + The end of this will be, + That one of these big brutes will yield, + And then be exiled from the field? + No more permitted on the grass to feed, + He'll forage through our marsh, on rush and reed; + And while he eats or chews the cud, + Will trample on us in the mud. + Alas! to think how frogs must suffer + By means of this proud lady heifer!' + This fear was not without good sense. + One bull was beat, and much to their expense; + For, quick retreating to their reedy bower, + He trod on twenty of them in an hour. + + Of little folks it oft has been the fate + To suffer for the follies of the great. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II9">9</a>] Phaedrus, I. 30.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2V">V</a>.--THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.[<a href="#II10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A blundering bat once stuck her head + Into a wakeful weasel's bed; + Whereat the mistress of the house, + A deadly foe of rats and mice, + Was making ready in a trice + To eat the stranger as a mouse. + 'What! do you dare,' she said, 'to creep in + The very bed I sometimes sleep in, + Now, after all the provocation + I've suffer'd from your thievish nation? + Are you not really a mouse, + That gnawing pest of every house, + Your special aim to do the cheese ill? + Ay, that you are, or I'm no weasel.' + 'I beg your pardon,' said the bat; + 'My kind is very far from that. + What! I a mouse! Who told you such a lie? + Why, ma'am, I am a bird; + And, if you doubt my word, + Just see the wings with which I fly. + Long live the mice that cleave the sky!' + These reasons had so fair a show, + The weasel let the creature go. + + By some strange fancy led, + The same wise blunderhead, + But two or three days later, + Had chosen for her rest + Another weasel's nest, + This last, of birds a special hater. + New peril brought this step absurd; + Without a moment's thought or puzzle, + Dame weasel oped her peaked muzzle + To eat th' intruder as a bird. + 'Hold! do not wrong me,' cried the bat; + 'I'm truly no such thing as that. + Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers. + What makes a bird, I pray? Its feathers. + I'm cousin of the mice and rats. + Great Jupiter confound the cats!' + The bat, by such adroit replying, + Twice saved herself from dying. + + And many a human stranger + Thus turns his coat in danger; + And sings, as suits, where'er he goes, + 'God save the king!'--or 'save his foes!'[<a href="#II11">11</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II10">10</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="II11">11</a>] <i>Or save his foes!</i>--La Fontaine's last line is--"Vive le roi! + Vive la ligue!" conveying an allusion to the "Holy League" of the + French Catholic party, which, under the Guises, brought about the + war with Henry III. and the Huguenots, which ended, for a time, in + the edict of Nantes, promulgated by Henry IV. in 1598.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2VI">VI</a>.--THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.[<a href="#II12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A bird, with plumèd arrow shot, + In dying case deplored her lot: + 'Alas!' she cried, 'the anguish of the thought! + This ruin partly by myself was brought! + Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow + What wings to us the fatal arrow! + But mock us not, ye cruel race, + For you must often take our place.' + + The work of half the human brothers + Is making arms against the others. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II12">12</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2VII">VII</a>.--THE BITCH AND HER FRIEND.[<a href="#II13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A bitch, that felt her time approaching, + And had no place for parturition, + Went to a female friend, and, broaching + Her delicate condition, + Got leave herself to shut + Within the other's hut. + At proper time the lender came + Her little premises to claim. + The bitch crawl'd meekly to the door, + And humbly begg'd a fortnight more. + Her little pups, she said, could hardly walk. + In short, the lender yielded to her talk. + The second term expired; the friend had come + To take possession of her house and home. + The bitch, this time, as if she would have bit her, + Replied, 'I'm ready, madam, with my litter, + To go when you can turn me out.' + Her pups, you see, were fierce and stout. + + The creditor, from whom a villain borrows, + Will fewer shillings get again than sorrows. + If you have trusted people of this sort, + You'll have to plead, and dun, and fight; in short, + If in your house you let one step a foot, + He'll surely step the other in to boot. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II13">13</a>] Phaedrus, I. 19. See the Translator's Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2VIII">VIII</a>.--THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE.[<a href="#II14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, + Was making for his hole in haste, + When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow. + I leave you all to think + If such a little chink + Could to a rabbit give protection thorough. + But, since no better could be got, + John Rabbit there was fain to squat. + Of course, in an asylum so absurd, + John felt ere long the talons of the bird. + But first, the beetle, interceding, cried, + 'Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied, + That, maugre my protection, you can bear + My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air. + But do not give me such affront, I pray; + And since he craves your grace, + In pity of his case, + Grant him his life, or take us both away; + For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.' + In vain the beetle's friendly labour; + The eagle clutch'd her prey without reply, + And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, + Struck down our orator and still'd him; + The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him. + The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, + Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak, + Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest. + And while the bird was gone, + Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, + Not sparing one. + Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, + Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky. + But, by excess of passion blind, + Her enemy she fail'd to find. + Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate + To live a mourning mother, desolate. + The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; + The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again. + John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew. + The second mourning for her murder'd brood + Was such, that through the giant mountain wood, + For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. + The bird, once Ganymede, now made + Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; + And, laying them within his godship's lap, + She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap; + The god his own could not but make them-- + No wretch, would venture there to break them. + And no one did. Their enemy, this time, + Upsoaring to a place sublime, + Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, + Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, + Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. + When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event + Occurr'd by purest accident, + The eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her; + She gave out threats of leaving court, + To make the desert her resort, + And other brav'ries of this sort. + Poor Jupiter in silence heard + The uproar of his favourite bird. + Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, + And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd. + The god pronounced the eagle in the wrong. + But still, their hatred was so old and strong, + These enemies could not be reconciled; + And, that the general peace might not be spoil'd,-- + The best that he could do,--the god arranged, + That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed, + To come when beetle folks are only found + Conceal'd and dormant under ground. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II14">14</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2IX">IX</a>.--THE LION AND THE GNAT.[<a href="#II15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!' + Thus said the royal lion to the gnat. + The gnat declared immediate war. + 'Think you,' said he, 'your royal name + To me worth caring for? + Think you I tremble at your power or fame? + The ox is bigger far than you; + Yet him I drive, and all his crew.' + This said, as one that did no fear owe, + Himself he blew the battle charge, + Himself both trumpeter and hero. + At first he play'd about at large, + Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, + And there the royal beast full sorely nettled. + With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, + He roars. All creatures hide or fly,-- + Such mortal terror at + The work of one poor gnat! + With constant change of his attack, + The snout now stinging, now the back, + And now the chambers of the nose; + The pigmy fly no mercy shows. + The lion's rage was at its height; + His viewless foe now laugh'd outright, + When on his battle-ground he saw, + That every savage tooth and claw + Had got its proper beauty + By doing bloody duty; + Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, + And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side. + Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse! + He beat the harmless air, and worse; + For, though so fierce and stout, + By effort wearied out, + He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel. + The gnat retires with verdant laurel. + Now rings his trumpet clang, + As at the charge it rang. + But while his triumph note he blows, + Straight on our valiant conqueror goes + A spider's ambuscade to meet, + And make its web his winding-sheet. + + We often have the most to fear + From those we most despise; + Again, great risks a man may clear, + Who by the smallest dies. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II15">15</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2X">X</a>.--THE ASS LOADED WITH SPONGES, AND THE ASS LOADED WITH SALT.[<a href="#II16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer, + His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing, + Drove on two coursers of protracted ear, + The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring; + The other lifting legs + As if he trod on eggs, + With constant need of goading, + And bags of salt for loading. + O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pass'd, + Till, coming to a river's ford at last, + They stopp'd quite puzzled on the shore. + Our asseteer had cross'd the stream before; + So, on the lighter beast astride, + He drives the other, spite of dread, + Which, loath indeed to go ahead, + Into a deep hole turns aside, + And, facing right about, + Where he went in, comes out; + For duckings two or three + Had power the salt to melt, + So that the creature felt + His burden'd shoulders free. + The sponger, like a sequent sheep, + Pursuing through the water deep, + Into the same hole plunges + Himself, his rider, and the sponges. + All three drank deeply: asseteer and ass + For boon companions of their load might pass; + Which last became so sore a weight, + The ass fell down, + Belike to drown, + His rider risking equal fate. + A helper came, no matter who. + The moral needs no more ado-- + That all can't act alike,-- + The point I wish'd to strike. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II16">16</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XI">XI</a>.--THE LION AND THE RAT.[<a href="#II17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + To show to all your kindness, it behoves: + There's none so small but you his aid may need. + I quote two fables for this weighty creed, + Which either of them fully proves. + From underneath the sward + A rat, quite off his guard, + Popp'd out between a lion's paws. + The beast of royal bearing + Show'd what a lion was + The creature's life by sparing-- + A kindness well repaid; + For, little as you would have thought + His majesty would ever need his aid, + It proved full soon + A precious boon. + Forth issuing from his forest glen, + T' explore the haunts of men, + In lion net his majesty was caught, + From which his strength and rage + Served not to disengage. + The rat ran up, with grateful glee, + Gnaw'd off a rope, and set him free. + + By time and toil we sever + What strength and rage could never. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II17">17</a>] Aesop. In the original editions of La Fontaine's Fables, XI. and + XII. are printed together, and headed "Fables XI. et XII."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XII">XII</a>.--THE DOVE AND THE ANT.[<a href="#II18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The same instruction we may get + From another couple, smaller yet. + + A dove came to a brook to drink, + When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, + An ant fell in, and vainly tried, + In this, to her, an ocean tide, + To reach the land; whereat the dove, + With every living thing in love, + Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her, + By which the ant regain'd the shore. + + A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, + Soon after chanced this dove to spy; + And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, + The hungry codger doubted not + The bird of Venus, in his pot, + Would make a soup before the morrow. + Just as his deadly bow he drew, + Our ant just bit his heel. + Roused by the villain's squeal, + The dove took timely hint, and flew + Far from the rascal's coop;-- + And with her flew his soup. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II18">18</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XIII">XIII</a>.--THE ASTROLOGER WHO STUMBLED INTO A WELL.[<a href="#II19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + To an astrologer who fell + Plump to the bottom of a well, + 'Poor blockhead!' cried a passer-by, + 'Not see your feet, and read the sky?' + + This upshot of a story will suffice + To give a useful hint to most; + For few there are in this our world so wise + As not to trust in star or ghost, + Or cherish secretly the creed + That men the book of destiny may read. + This book, by Homer and his pupils sung, + What is it, in plain common sense, + But what was chance those ancient folks among, + And with ourselves, God's providence? + Now chance doth bid defiance + To every thing like science; + 'Twere wrong, if not, + To call it hazard, fortune, lot-- + Things palpably uncertain. + But from the purposes divine, + The deep of infinite design, + Who boasts to lift the curtain? + Whom but himself doth God allow + To read his bosom thoughts? and how + Would he imprint upon the stars sublime + The shrouded secrets of the night of time? + And all for what? To exercise the wit + Of those who on astrology have writ? + To help us shun inevitable ills? + To poison for us even pleasure's rills? + The choicest blessings to destroy, + Exhausting, ere they come, their joy? + Such faith is worse than error--'tis a crime. + The sky-host moves and marks the course of time; + The sun sheds on our nicely-measured days + The glory of his night-dispelling rays; + And all from this we can divine + Is, that they need to rise and shine,-- + To roll the seasons, ripen fruits, + And cheer the hearts of men and brutes. + How tallies this revolving universe + With human things, eternally diverse? + Ye horoscopers, waning quacks, + Please turn on Europe's courts your backs, + And, taking on your travelling lists + The bellows-blowing alchemists, + Budge off together to the land of mists. + But I've digress'd. Return we now, bethinking + Of our poor star-man, whom we left a drinking. + Besides the folly of his lying trade, + This man the type may well be made + Of those who at chimeras stare + When they should mind the things that are. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II19">19</a>] Aesop. Diogenes Laertius tells the story of this fable of Thales of + Miletus. "It is said that once he (Thales) was led out of his house + by an old woman for the purpose of observing the stars, and he fell + into a ditch and bewailed himself. On which the old woman said to + him--'Do you, O Thales, who cannot see what is under your feet, + think that thou shalt understand what is in heaven?'"--<i>Diogenes + Laertius, Bohn's edition.</i></p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XIV">XIV</a>.--THE HARE AND THE FROGS.[<a href="#II20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Once in his bed deep mused the hare, + (What else but muse could he do there?) + And soon by gloom was much afflicted;-- + To gloom the creature's much addicted. + 'Alas! these constitutions nervous,' + He cried, 'how wretchedly they serve us! + We timid people, by their action, + Can't eat nor sleep with satisfaction; + We can't enjoy a pleasure single, + But with some misery it must mingle. + Myself, for one, am forced by cursed fear + To sleep with open eye as well as ear. + "Correct yourself," says some adviser. + Grows fear, by such advice, the wiser? + Indeed, I well enough descry + That men have fear, as well as I.' + With such revolving thoughts our hare + Kept watch in soul-consuming care. + A passing shade, or leaflet's quiver + Would give his blood a boiling fever. + Full soon, his melancholy soul + Aroused from dreaming doze + By noise too slight for foes, + He scuds in haste to reach his hole. + He pass'd a pond; and from its border bogs, + Plunge after plunge, in leap'd the timid frogs, + 'Aha! I do to them, I see,' + He cried, 'what others do to me. + The sight of even me, a hare, + Sufficeth some, I find, to scare. + And here, the terror of my tramp + Hath put to rout, it seems, a camp. + The trembling fools! they take me for + The very thunderbolt of war! + I see, the coward never skulk'd a foe + That might not scare a coward still below.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II20">20</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XV">XV</a>.--THE COCK AND THE FOX.[<a href="#II21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Upon a tree there mounted guard + A veteran cock, adroit and cunning; + When to the roots a fox up running, + Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard:-- + 'Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; + Henceforth I hope to live your friend; + For peace now reigns + Throughout the animal domains. + I bear the news:--come down, I pray, + And give me the embrace fraternal; + And please, my brother, don't delay. + So much the tidings do concern all, + That I must spread them far to-day. + Now you and yours can take your walks + Without a fear or thought of hawks. + And should you clash with them or others, + In us you'll find the best of brothers;-- + For which you may, this joyful night, + Your merry bonfires light. + But, first, let's seal the bliss + With one fraternal kiss.' + 'Good friend,' the cock replied, 'upon my word, + A better thing I never heard; + And doubly I rejoice + To hear it from your voice; + And, really there must be something in it, + For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter + Myself are couriers on this very matter. + They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. + I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing + With general kissing and caressing.' + 'Adieu,' said fox; 'my errand's pressing; + I'll hurry on my way, + And we'll rejoice some other day.' + So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, + To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, + Less happy in his stratagem than flight. + The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;-- + 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II21">21</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XVI">XVI</a>.--THE RAVEN WISHING TO IMITATE THE EAGLE.[<a href="#II22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The bird of Jove bore off a mutton, + A raven being witness. + That weaker bird, but equal glutton, + Not doubting of his fitness + To do the same with ease, + And bent his taste to please, + Took round the flock his sweep, + And mark'd among the sheep, + The one of fairest flesh and size, + A real sheep of sacrifice-- + A dainty titbit bestial, + Reserved for mouth celestial. + Our gormand, gloating round, + Cried, 'Sheep, I wonder much + Who could have made you such. + You're far the fattest I have found; + I'll take you for my eating.' + And on the creature bleating + He settled down. Now, sooth to say, + This sheep would weigh + More than a cheese; + And had a fleece + Much like that matting famous + Which graced the chin of Polyphemus;[<a href="#II23">23</a>] + So fast it clung to every claw, + It was not easy to withdraw. + The shepherd came, caught, caged, and, to their joy, + Gave croaker to his children for a toy. + + Ill plays the pilferer the bigger thief; + One's self one ought to know;--in brief, + Example is a dangerous lure; + Death strikes the gnat, where flies the wasp secure. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II22">22</a>] Aesop; and Corrozet.<br> +[<a name="II23">23</a>] <i>Polyphemus</i>.--The Cyclop king: <i>vide</i> Homer's Odyssey, Book IX.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XVII">XVII</a>.--THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO.[<a href="#II24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The peacock[<a href="#II25">25</a>] to the queen of heaven + Complain'd in some such words:-- + 'Great goddess, you have given + To me, the laughing-stock of birds, + A voice which fills, by taste quite just, + All nature with disgust; + Whereas that little paltry thing, + The nightingale, pours from her throat + So sweet and ravishing a note, + She bears alone the honours of the spring.' + + In anger Juno heard, + And cried, 'Shame on you, jealous bird! + Grudge you the nightingale her voice, + Who in the rainbow neck rejoice, + Than costliest silks more richly tinted, + In charms of grace and form unstinted,-- + Who strut in kingly pride, + Your glorious tail spread wide + With brilliants which in sheen do + Outshine the jeweller's bow window? + Is there a bird beneath the blue + That has more charms than you? + No animal in everything can shine. + By just partition of our gifts divine, + Each has its full and proper share; + Among the birds that cleave the air, + The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave one, + For omens serves the hoarse old raven, + The rook's of coming ills the prophet; + And if there's any discontent, + I've heard not of it. + + 'Cease, then, your envious complaint; + Or I, instead of making up your lack, + Will take your boasted plumage from your back.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II24">24</a>] Phaedrus, III. 17.<br> +[<a name="II25">25</a>] The peacock was consecrated to Juno the "Queen of Heaven," and was + under her protection.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE CAT METAMORPHOSED INTO A WOMAN.[<a href="#II26">26</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A bachelor caress'd his cat, + A darling, fair, and delicate; + So deep in love, he thought her mew + The sweetest voice he ever knew. + By prayers, and tears, and magic art, + The man got Fate to take his part; + And, lo! one morning at his side + His cat, transform'd, became his bride. + In wedded state our man was seen + The fool in courtship he had been. + No lover e'er was so bewitch'd + By any maiden's charms + As was this husband, so enrich'd + By hers within his arms. + He praised her beauties, this and that, + And saw there nothing of the cat. + In short, by passion's aid, he + Thought her a perfect lady. + + 'Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice + Disturb'd the nuptial joys. + Excited by the noise, + The bride sprang at them in a trice; + The mice were scared and fled. + The bride, scarce in her bed, + The gnawing heard, and sprang again,-- + And this time not in vain, + For, in this novel form array'd, + Of her the mice were less afraid. + Through life she loved this mousing course, + So great is stubborn nature's force. + + In mockery of change, the old + Will keep their youthful bent. + When once the cloth has got its fold, + The smelling-pot its scent, + In vain your efforts and your care + To make them other than they are. + To work reform, do what you will, + Old habit will be habit still. + Nor fork[<a href="#II27">27</a>] nor strap can mend its manners, + Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners. + Secure the doors against the renter, + And through the windows it will enter. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II26">26</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="II27">27</a>] Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.--Hor. Epist. Bk. I. + 10.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XIX">XIX</a>.--THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING.[<a href="#II28">28</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The king of animals, with royal grace, + Would celebrate his birthday in the chase. + 'Twas not with bow and arrows, + To slay some wretched sparrows; + The lion hunts the wild boar of the wood, + The antlered deer and stags, the fat and good. + This time, the king, t' insure success, + Took for his aide-de-camp an ass, + A creature of stentorian voice, + That felt much honour'd by the choice. + The lion hid him in a proper station, + And order'd him to bray, for his vocation, + Assured that his tempestuous cry + The boldest beasts would terrify, + And cause them from their lairs to fly. + And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made + Did strike the tenants of the wood with dread; + And, as they headlong fled, + All fell within the lion's ambuscade. + 'Has not my service glorious + Made both of us victorious?' + Cried out the much-elated ass. + 'Yes,' said the lion; 'bravely bray'd! + Had I not known yourself and race, + I should have been myself afraid!' + If he had dared, the donkey + Had shown himself right spunky + At this retort, though justly made; + For who could suffer boasts to pass + So ill-befitting to an ass? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II28">28</a>] Phaedrus, I. 11: Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="2XX">XX</a>.--THE WILL EXPLAINED BY AESOP.[<a href="#II29">29</a>]</h4> +<pre> + If what old story says of Aesop's true, + The oracle of Greece he was, + And more than Areopagus[<a href="#II30">30</a>] he knew, + With all its wisdom in the laws. + The following tale gives but a sample + Of what has made his fame so ample. + Three daughters shared a father's purse, + Of habits totally diverse. + The first, bewitched with drinks delicious; + The next, coquettish and capricious; + The third, supremely avaricious. + The sire, expectant of his fate, + Bequeathed his whole estate, + In equal shares, to them, + And to their mother just the same,-- + To her then payable, and not before, + Each daughter should possess her part no more. + The father died. The females three + Were much in haste the will to see. + They read, and read, but still + Saw not the willer's will. + For could it well be understood + That each of this sweet sisterhood, + When she possess'd her part no more, + Should to her mother pay it o'er? + 'Twas surely not so easy saying + How lack of means would help the paying. + What meant their honour'd father, then? + Th' affair was brought to legal men, + Who, after turning o'er the case + Some hundred thousand different ways, + Threw down the learned bonnet, + Unable to decide upon it; + And then advised the heirs, + Without more thought, t' adjust affairs. + As to the widow's share, the counsel say, + 'We hold it just the daughters each should pay + One third to her upon demand, + Should she not choose to have it stand + Commuted as a life annuity, + Paid from her husband's death, with due congruity.' + The thing thus order'd, the estate + Is duly cut in portions three. + And in the first they all agree + To put the feasting-lodges, plate, + Luxurious cooling mugs, + Enormous liquor jugs, + Rich cupboards,--built beneath the trellised vine,-- + The stores of ancient, sweet Malvoisian wine, + The slaves to serve it at a sign; + In short, whatever, in a great house, + There is of feasting apparatus. + The second part is made + Of what might help the jilting trade-- + The city house and furniture, + Exquisite and genteel, be sure, + The eunuchs, milliners, and laces, + The jewels, shawls, and costly dresses. + The third is made of household stuff, + More vulgar, rude, and rough-- + Farms, fences, flocks, and fodder, + And men and beasts to turn the sod o'er. + This done, since it was thought + To give the parts by lot + Might suit, or it might not, + Each paid her share of fees dear, + And took the part that pleased her. + 'Twas in great Athens town, + Such judgment gave the gown. + And there the public voice + Applauded both the judgment and the choice. + But Aesop well was satisfied + The learned men had set aside, + In judging thus the testament, + The very gist of its intent. + 'The dead,' quoth he, 'could he but know of it, + Would heap reproaches on such Attic wit. + What! men who proudly take their place + As sages of the human race, + Lack they the simple skill + To settle such a will?' + This said, he undertook himself + The task of portioning the pelf; + And straightway gave each maid the part + The least according to her heart-- + The prim coquette, the drinking stuff, + The drinker, then, the farms and cattle; + And on the miser, rude and rough, + The robes and lace did Aesop settle; + For thus, he said, 'an early date + Would see the sisters alienate + Their several shares of the estate. + No motive now in maidenhood to tarry, + They all would seek, post haste, to marry; + And, having each a splendid bait, + Each soon would find a well-bred mate; + And, leaving thus their father's goods intact, + Would to their mother pay them all, in fact,'-- + Which of the testament + Was plainly the intent. + The people, who had thought a slave an ass, + Much wonder'd how it came to pass + That one alone should have more sense + Than all their men of most pretence. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="II29">29</a>] Phaedrus, IV. 5.<br> +[<a name="II30">30</a>] <i>Areopagus.</i>--This was the Athenian Court of Justice at Mars + Hill. It is said to have been called <i>Areiopagos</i> (the Hill of + Mars) because, according to tradition, the first trial there was + that of Mars for the murder of Halirrhotius.</p> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="III">BOOK</a> III.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="3I">I</a>.--THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THE ASS [<a href="#III1">1</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To M. De Maucroix.[<a href="#III2">2</a>]</p> +<pre> + Because the arts are plainly birthright matters, + For fables we to ancient Greece are debtors; + But still this field could not be reap'd so clean + As not to let us, later comers, glean. + The fiction-world hath deserts yet to dare, + And, daily, authors make discoveries there. + I'd fain repeat one which our man of song, + Old Malherbe, told one day to young Racan.[<a href="#III3">3</a>] + Of Horace they the rivals and the heirs, + Apollo's pets,--my masters, I should say,-- + Sole by themselves were met, I'm told, one day, + Confiding each to each their thoughts and cares. + Racan begins:--'Pray end my inward strife, + For well you know, my friend, what's what in life, + Who through its varied course, from stage to stage, + Have stored the full experience of age; + What shall I do? 'Tis time I chose profession. + You know my fortune, birth, and disposition. + Ought I to make the country my resort, + Or seek the army, or to rise at court? + There's nought but mixeth bitterness with charms; + War hath its pleasures; hymen, its alarms. + 'Twere nothing hard to take my natural bent,-- + But I've a world of people to content.' + 'Content a world!' old Malherbe cries; 'who can, sir? + Why, let me tell a story ere I answer.' + + 'A miller and his son, I've somewhere read, + The first in years, the other but a lad,-- + A fine, smart boy, however, I should say,-- + To sell their ass went to a fair one day. + In order there to get the highest price, + They needs must keep their donkey fresh and nice; + So, tying fast his feet, they swung him clear, + And bore him hanging like a chandelier. + Alas! poor, simple-minded country fellows! + The first that sees their load, loud laughing, bellows, + "What farce is this to split good people's sides? + The most an ass is not the one that rides!" + The miller, much enlighten'd by this talk, + Untied his precious beast, and made him walk. + The ass, who liked the other mode of travel, + Bray'd some complaint at trudging on the gravel; + Whereat, not understanding well the beast, + The miller caused his hopeful son to ride, + And walk'd behind, without a spark of pride. + Three merchants pass'd, and, mightily displeased, + The eldest of these gentlemen cried out, + "Ho there! dismount, for shame, you lubber lout! + Nor make a foot-boy of your grey-beard sire; + Change places, as the rights of age require." + "To please you, sirs," the miller said, "I ought." + So down the young and up the old man got. + Three girls next passing, "What a shame!" says one, + "That boy should be obliged on foot to run, + While that old chap, upon his ass astride, + Should play the calf, and like a bishop ride!" + "Please save your wit," the miller made reply, + "Tough veal, my girls, the calf as old as I." + But joke on joke repeated changed his mind; + So up he took, at last, his son behind. + Not thirty yards ahead, another set + Found fault. "The biggest fools I ever met," + Says one of them, "such burdens to impose. + The ass is faint, and dying with their blows. + Is this, indeed, the mercy which these rustics + Show to their honest, faithful, old domestics? + If to the fair these lazy fellows ride, + 'Twill be to sell thereat the donkey's hide!" + "Zounds!" cried the miller, "precious little brains + Hath he who takes, to please the world, such pains; + But since we're in, we'll try what can be done." + So off the ass they jump'd, himself and son, + And, like a prelate, donkey march'd alone. + Another man they met. "These folks," said he, + "Enslave themselves to let their ass go free-- + The darling brute! If I might be so bold, + I'd counsel them to have him set in gold. + Not so went Nicholas his Jane[<a href="#III4">4</a>] to woo, + Who rode, we sing, his ass to save his shoe." + "Ass! ass!" our man replied; "we're asses three! + I do avow myself an ass to be; + But since my sage advisers can't agree, + Their words henceforth shall not be heeded; + I'll suit myself." And he succeeded. + + 'For you, choose army, love, or court; + In town, or country, make resort; + Take wife, or cowl; ride you, or walk; + Doubt not but tongues will have their talk.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III1">1</a>] The story of this fable has been used by most of the fabulists, from + Aesop downwards.<br> +[<a name="III2">2</a>] In the original editions this fable is dedicated "A. M. D. M." which + initials stand for "To M. De Maucroix," Canon of Rheims, an early and + late friend and patron of the poet. See Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="III3">3</a>] <i>Old Malherbe and young Racan.</i>--French poets. Malherbe was + born in 1556, and died in 1628. La Fontaine owed to Malherbe's works + the happy inspiration which led him to write poetry. See Translator's + Preface. Honorat de Bueil, Marquis de Racan, was born at La Roche + Racan in 1589. As a poet he was a pupil of Malherbe. His works + were praised by Boileau, and he was one of the earliest members of + the French Academy.<br> +[<a name="III4">4</a>] <i>Nicholas and his Jane.</i>--An allusion to an old French song.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3II">II</a>.--THE MEMBERS AND THE BELLY.[<a href="#III5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, + This book would have begun with royalty, + Of which, in certain points of view, + Boss[<a href="#III6">6</a>] Belly is the image true, + In whose bereavements all the members share: + Of whom the latter once so weary were, + As all due service to forbear, + On what they called his idle plan, + Resolved to play the gentleman, + And let his lordship live on air. + 'Like burden-beasts,' said they, + 'We sweat from day to day; + And all for whom, and what? + Ourselves we profit not. + Our labour has no object but one, + That is, to feed this lazy glutton. + We'll learn the resting trade + By his example's aid.' + So said, so done; all labour ceased; + The hands refused to grasp, the arms to strike; + All other members did the like. + Their boss might labour if he pleased! + It was an error which they soon repented, + With pain of languid poverty acquainted. + The heart no more the blood renew'd, + And hence repair no more accrued + To ever-wasting strength; + Whereby the mutineers, at length, + Saw that the idle belly, in its way, + Did more for common benefit than they. + + For royalty our fable makes, + A thing that gives as well as takes + Its power all labour to sustain, + Nor for themselves turns out their labour vain. + It gives the artist bread, the merchant riches; + Maintains the diggers in their ditches; + Pays man of war and magistrate; + Supports the swarms in place, + That live on sovereign grace; + In short, is caterer for the state. + + Menenius[<a href="#III7">7</a>] told the story well: + When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, + The commons parting from the senate. + 'The ills,' said they, 'that we complain at + Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity, + Belong to them alone; while we + Get nought our labour for + But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war.' + Without the walls the people had their stand + Prepared to march in search of other land, + When by this noted fable + Menenius was able + To draw them, hungry, home + To duty and to Rome.[<a href="#III8">8</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III5">5</a>] Aesop. Rabelais also has a version: Book III. ch. 3.<br> +[<a name="III6">6</a>] <i>Boss</i>.--A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to + lexicographers; qu. derived from the French <i>bosseman</i>, or the + English <i>boatswain</i>, pronounced <i>bos'n</i>? It denotes a + "master" of some practical "art." Master Belly, says Rabelais, was + the first Master of Arts in the world.--Translator. The name used by + La Fontaine is "Messer Gaster." To which he puts a footnote stating + that he meant "L'estomac." He took the name from Rabelais, Book IV., + ch. 57, where it occurs thus:--"Messer Gaster est le premier maître ès + arts de ce monde.... Son mandement est nommé: Faire le fault, sans + delay, ou mourir."<br> +[<a name="III7">7</a>] <i>Menenius</i>.--See Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="III8">8</a>] <i>Rome</i>.--According to our republican notions of government, + these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the fable finds a + more appropriate application in the relation of employer to employed. + I leave the fabulists and the political economists to settle the + question between them.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3III">III</a>.--THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.[<a href="#III9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks + Began to be but few, + Bethought himself to play the fox + In character quite new. + A shepherd's hat and coat he took, + A cudgel for a crook, + Nor e'en the pipe forgot: + And more to seem what he was not, + Himself upon his hat he wrote, + 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep.' + His person thus complete, + His crook in upraised feet, + The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. + The real Willie, on the grass asleep, + Slept there, indeed, profoundly, + His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; + His drowsy sheep around lay. + As for the greatest number, + Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, + And hoped to drive away the flock, + Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. + He thought undoubtedly he could. + He tried: the tone in which he spoke, + Loud echoing from the wood, + The plot and slumber broke; + Sheep, dog, and man awoke. + The wolf, in sorry plight, + In hampering coat bedight, + Could neither run nor fight. + + There's always leakage of deceit + Which makes it never safe to cheat. + Whoever is a wolf had better + Keep clear of hypocritic fetter. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III9">9</a>] The story of this fable is traced to Verdizotti, an Italian poet who + lived about 1535-1600.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3IV">IV</a>.--THE FROGS ASKING A KING.[<a href="#III10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A certain commonwealth aquatic, + Grown tired of order democratic, + By clamouring in the ears of Jove, effected + Its being to a monarch's power subjected. + Jove flung it down, at first, a king pacific. + Who nathless fell with such a splash terrific, + The marshy folks, a foolish race and timid, + Made breathless haste to get from him hid. + They dived into the mud beneath the water, + Or found among the reeds and rushes quarter. + And long it was they dared not see + The dreadful face of majesty, + Supposing that some monstrous frog + Had been sent down to rule the bog. + The king was really a log, + Whose gravity inspired with awe + The first that, from his hiding-place + Forth venturing, astonish'd, saw + The royal blockhead's face. + With trembling and with fear, + At last he drew quite near. + Another follow'd, and another yet, + Till quite a crowd at last were met; + Who, growing fast and strangely bolder, + Perch'd soon upon the royal shoulder. + His gracious majesty kept still, + And let his people work their will. + Clack, clack! what din beset the ears of Jove? + 'We want a king,' the people said, 'to move!' + The god straight sent them down a crane, + Who caught and slew them without measure, + And gulp'd their carcasses at pleasure; + Whereat the frogs more wofully complain. + 'What! what!' great Jupiter replied; + 'By your desires must I be tied? + Think you such government is bad? + You should have kept what first you had; + Which having blindly fail'd to do, + It had been prudent still for you + To let that former king suffice, + More meek and mild, if not so wise. + With this now make yourselves content, + Lest for your sins a worse be sent.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III10">10</a>] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 2.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3V">V</a>.--THE FOX AND THE GOAT.[<a href="#III11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fox once journey'd, and for company + A certain bearded, horned goat had he; + Which goat no further than his nose could see. + The fox was deeply versed in trickery. + These travellers did thirst compel + To seek the bottom of a well. + There, having drunk enough for two, + Says fox, 'My friend, what shall we do? + 'Tis time that we were thinking + Of something else than drinking. + Raise you your feet upon the wall, + And stick your horns up straight and tall; + Then up your back I'll climb with ease, + And draw you after, if you please.' + 'Yes, by my beard,' the other said, + ''Tis just the thing. I like a head + Well stock'd with sense, like thine. + Had it been left to mine, + I do confess, + I never should have thought of this.' + So Renard clamber'd out, + And, leaving there the goat, + Discharged his obligations + By preaching thus on patience:-- + 'Had Heaven put sense thy head within, + To match the beard upon thy chin, + Thou wouldst have thought a bit, + Before descending such a pit. + I'm out of it; good bye: + With prudent effort try + Yourself to extricate. + For me, affairs of state + Permit me not to wait.' + + Whatever way you wend, + Consider well the end. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III11">11</a>] Aesop; also in Phaedrus, IV. 9.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3VI">VI</a>.--THE EAGLE, THE WILD SOW, AND THE CAT.[<a href="#III12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A certain hollow tree + Was tenanted by three. + An eagle held a lofty bough, + The hollow root a wild wood sow, + A female cat between the two. + All busy with maternal labours, + They lived awhile obliging neighbours. + At last the cat's deceitful tongue + Broke up the peace of old and young. + Up climbing to the eagle's nest, + She said, with whisker'd lips compress'd, + 'Our death, or, what as much we mothers fear, + That of our helpless offspring dear, + Is surely drawing near. + Beneath our feet, see you not how + Destruction's plotted by the sow? + Her constant digging, soon or late, + Our proud old castle will uproot. + And then--O, sad and shocking fate!-- + She'll eat our young ones, as the fruit! + Were there but hope of saving one, + 'Twould soothe somewhat my bitter moan.' + Thus leaving apprehensions hideous, + Down went the puss perfidious + To where the sow, no longer digging, + Was in the very act of pigging. + 'Good friend and neighbour,' whisper'd she, + 'I warn you on your guard to be. + Your pigs should you but leave a minute, + This eagle here will seize them in it. + Speak not of this, I beg, at all, + Lest on my head her wrath should fall.' + Another breast with fear inspired, + With fiendish joy the cat retired. + The eagle ventured no egress + To feed her young, the sow still less. + Fools they, to think that any curse + Than ghastly famine could be worse! + Both staid at home, resolved and obstinate, + To save their young ones from impending fate,-- + The royal bird for fear of mine, + For fear of royal claws the swine. + All died, at length, with hunger, + The older and the younger; + There staid, of eagle race or boar, + Not one this side of death's dread door;-- + A sad misfortune, which + The wicked cats made rich. + O, what is there of hellish plot + The treacherous tongue dares not! + Of all the ills Pandora's box[<a href="#III13">13</a>] outpour'd, + Deceit, I think, is most to be abhorr'd. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III12">12</a>] Phaedrus, II. 4.<br> +[<a name="III13">13</a>] <i>Pandora's box.</i>--Pandora, the Eve of the Grecian mythology, + was sent to earth with all the human ills and Hope in a box, whence + all but Hope escaped.--<i>Vide</i> Elton's Hesiod, <i>Works and Days</i>, + I. 114, Bohn's edition, &c.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3VII">VII</a>.--THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE.[<a href="#III14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Each has his fault, to which he clings + In spite of shame or fear. + This apophthegm a story brings, + To make its truth more clear. + A sot had lost health, mind, and purse; + And, truly, for that matter, + Sots mostly lose the latter + Ere running half their course. + When wine, one day, of wit had fill'd the room, + His wife inclosed him in a spacious tomb. + There did the fumes evaporate + At leisure from his drowsy pate. + When he awoke, he found + His body wrapp'd around + With grave-clothes, chill and damp, + Beneath a dim sepulchral lamp. + 'How's this? My wife a widow sad?' + He cried, 'and I a ghost? Dead? dead?' + Thereat his spouse, with snaky hair, + And robes like those the Furies wear, + With voice to fit the realms below, + Brought boiling caudle to his bier-- + For Lucifer the proper cheer; + By which her husband came to know-- + For he had heard of those three ladies-- + Himself a citizen of Hades. + 'What may your office be?' + The phantom question'd he. + 'I'm server up of Pluto's meat, + And bring his guests the same to eat.' + 'Well,' says the sot, not taking time to think, + 'And don't you bring us anything to drink?' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III14">14</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3VIII">VIII</a>.--THE GOUT AND THE SPIDER.[<a href="#III15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + When Nature angrily turn'd out + Those plagues, the spider and the gout,-- + 'See you,' said she, 'those huts so meanly built, + These palaces so grand and richly gilt? + By mutual agreement fix + Your choice of dwellings; or if not, + To end th' affair by lot, + Draw out these little sticks.' + 'The huts are not for me,' the spider cried; + 'And not for me the palace,' cried the gout; + For there a sort of men she spied + Call'd doctors, going in and out, + From whom, she could not hope for ease. + So hied her to the huts the fell disease, + And, fastening on a poor man's toe, + Hoped there to fatten on his woe, + And torture him, fit after fit, + Without a summons e'er to quit, + From old Hippocrates. + The spider, on the lofty ceiling, + As if she had a life-lease feeling. + Wove wide her cunning toils, + Soon rich with insect spoils. + A maid destroy'd them as she swept the room: + Repair'd, again they felt the fatal broom. + The wretched creature, every day, + From house and home must pack away. + At last, her courage giving out, + She went to seek her sister gout, + And in the field descried her, + Quite starved: more evils did betide her + Than e'er befel the poorest spider-- + Her toiling host enslaved her so, + And made her chop, and dig, and hoe! + (Says one, "Kept brisk and busy, + The gout is made half easy.") + 'O, when,' exclaim'd the sad disease, + 'Will this my misery stop? + O, sister spider, if you please, + Our places let us swop.' + The spider gladly heard, + And took her at her word,-- + And flourish'd in the cabin-lodge, + Not forced the tidy broom to dodge + The gout, selecting her abode + With an ecclesiastic judge, + Turn'd judge herself, and, by her code, + He from his couch no more could budge. + The salves and cataplasms Heaven knows, + That mock'd the misery of his toes; + While aye, without a blush, the curse, + Kept driving onward worse and worse. + Needless to say, the sisterhood + Thought their exchange both wise and good. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III15">15</a>] The story of this fable is told in Petrarch, (Epistles, III. 13) and + by others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3IX">IX</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE STORK.[<a href="#III16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The wolves are prone to play the glutton. + One, at a certain feast, 'tis said, + So stuff'd himself with lamb and mutton, + He seem'd but little short of dead. + Deep in his throat a bone stuck fast. + Well for this wolf, who could not speak, + That soon a stork quite near him pass'd. + By signs invited, with her beak + The bone she drew + With slight ado, + And for this skilful surgery + Demanded, modestly, her fee. + 'Your fee!' replied the wolf, + In accents rather gruff; + 'And is it not enough + Your neck is safe from such a gulf? + Go, for a wretch ingrate, + Nor tempt again your fate!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III16">16</a>] Phaedrus, I. 8; and Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3X">X</a>.--THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.[<a href="#III17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A picture once was shown, + In which one man, alone, + Upon the ground had thrown + A lion fully grown. + Much gloried at the sight the rabble. + A lion thus rebuked their babble:-- + 'That you have got the victory there, + There is no contradiction. + But, gentles, possibly you are + The dupes of easy fiction: + Had we the art of making pictures, + Perhaps our champion had beat yours!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III17">17</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XI">XI</a>.--THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.[<a href="#III18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fox, almost with hunger dying, + Some grapes upon a trellis spying, + To all appearance ripe, clad in + Their tempting russet skin, + Most gladly would have eat them; + But since he could not get them, + So far above his reach the vine-- + 'They're sour,' he said; 'such grapes as these, + The dogs may eat them if they please!' + + Did he not better than to whine? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III18">18</a>] Aesop: Phaedrus, IV. 3.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XII">XII</a>.--THE SWAN AND THE COOK.[<a href="#III19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The pleasures of a poultry yard + Were by a swan and gosling shared. + The swan was kept there for his looks, + The thrifty gosling for the cooks; + The first the garden's pride, the latter + A greater favourite on the platter. + They swam the ditches, side by side, + And oft in sports aquatic vied, + Plunging, splashing far and wide, + With rivalry ne'er satisfied. + One day the cook, named Thirsty John, + Sent for the gosling, took the swan, + In haste his throat to cut, + And put him in the pot. + The bird's complaint resounded + In glorious melody; + Whereat the cook, astounded + His sad mistake to see, + Cried, 'What! make soup of a musician! + Please God, I'll never set such dish on. + No, no; I'll never cut a throat + That sings so sweet a note.' + + 'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, + Sweet words will never harm us. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III19">19</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XIII">XIII</a>.--THE WOLVES AND THE SHEEP.[<a href="#III20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + By-gone a thousand years of war, + The wearers of the fleece + And wolves at last made peace; + Which both appear'd the better for; + For if the wolves had now and then + Eat up a straggling ewe or wether, + As often had the shepherd men + Turn'd wolf-skins into leather. + Fear always spoil'd the verdant herbage, + And so it did the bloody carnage. + Hence peace was sweet; and, lest it should be riven, + On both sides hostages were given. + The sheep, as by the terms arranged, + For pups of wolves their dogs exchanged; + Which being done above suspicion, + Confirm'd and seal'd by high commission, + What time the pups were fully grown, + And felt an appetite for prey, + And saw the sheepfold left alone, + The shepherds all away, + They seized the fattest lambs they could, + And, choking, dragg'd them to the wood; + Of which, by secret means apprised, + Their sires, as is surmised, + Fell on the hostage guardians of the sheep, + And slew them all asleep. + So quick the deed of perfidy was done, + There fled to tell the tale not one! + + From which we may conclude + That peace with villains will be rued. + Peace in itself, 'tis true, + May be a good for you; + But 'tis an evil, nathless, + When enemies are faithless. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III20">20</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XIV">XIV</a>.--THE LION GROWN OLD.[<a href="#III21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane + Of might once dreaded through his wild domain, + Was mock'd, at last, upon his throne, + By subjects of his own, + Strong through his weakness grown. + The horse his head saluted with a kick; + The wolf snapp'd at his royal hide; + The ox, too, gored him in the side; + The unhappy lion, sad and sick, + Could hardly growl, he was so weak. + In uncomplaining, stoic pride, + He waited for the hour of fate, + Until the ass approach'd his gate; + Whereat, 'This is too much,' he saith; + 'I willingly would yield my breath; + But, ah! thy kick is double death!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III21">21</a>] Phaedrus, I. 21.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XV">XV</a>.--PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.[<a href="#III22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + From home and city spires, one day, + The swallow Progne flew away, + And sought the bosky dell + Where sang poor Philomel.[<a href="#III23">23</a>] + 'My sister,' Progne said, 'how do you do? + 'Tis now a thousand years since you + Have been conceal'd from human view; + I'm sure I have not seen your face + Once since the times of Thrace. + Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?' + 'Where could I find,' said Philomel, 'so sweet?' + 'What! sweet?' cried Progne--'sweet to waste + Such tones on beasts devoid of taste, + Or on some rustic, at the most! + Should you by deserts be engross'd? + Come, be the city's pride and boast. + Besides, the woods remind of harms + That Tereus in them did your charms.' + 'Alas!' replied the bird of song, + 'The thought of that so cruel wrong + Makes me, from age to age, + Prefer this hermitage; + For nothing like the sight of men + Can call up what I suffer'd then.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III22">22</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="III23">23</a>] <i>Progne and Philomel</i>.--Progne and Philomela, sisters, in + mythology. Progne was Queen of Thrace, and was changed into a + swallow. Her sister was changed into a nightingale; <i>vide</i> Ovid, + <i>Metamorphoses</i>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XVI">XVI</a>.--THE WOMAN DROWNED.[<a href="#III24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + I hate that saying, old and savage, + "'Tis nothing but a woman drowning." + That's much, I say. What grief more keen should have edge + Than loss of her, of all our joys the crowning? + Thus much suggests the fable I am borrowing. + A woman perish'd in the water, + Where, anxiously, and sorrowing, + Her husband sought her, + To ease the grief he could not cure, + By honour'd rites of sepulture. + It chanced that near the fatal spot, + Along the stream which had + Produced a death so sad, + There walk'd some men that knew it not. + The husband ask'd if they had seen + His wife, or aught that hers had been. + One promptly answer'd, 'No! + But search the stream below: + It must nave borne her in its flow.' + 'No,' said another; 'search above. + In that direction + She would have floated, by the love + Of contradiction.' + This joke was truly out of season;-- + I don't propose to weigh its reason. + But whether such propensity + The sex's fault may be, + Or not, one thing is very sure, + Its own propensities endure. + Up to the end they'll have their will, + And, if it could be, further still. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III24">24</a>] Verdizotti.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XVII">XVII</a>.--THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.[<a href="#III25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, + (She was recovering from disease,) + Which led her to a farmer's hoard. + There lodged, her wasted form she cherish'd; + Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored + That by her gnawing perish'd! + Of which the consequence + Was sudden corpulence. + A week or so was past, + When having fully broken fast. + A noise she heard, and hurried + To find the hole by which she came, + And seem'd to find it not the same; + So round she ran, most sadly flurried; + And, coming back, thrust out her head, + Which, sticking there, she said, + 'This is the hole, there can't be blunder: + What makes it now so small, I wonder, + Where, but the other day, I pass'd with ease?' + A rat her trouble sees, + And cries, 'But with an emptier belly; + You enter'd lean, and lean must sally.' + What I have said to you + Has eke been said to not a few, + Who, in a vast variety of cases,[<a href="#III26">26</a>] + Have ventured into such-like places. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III25">25</a>] Aesop: also in Horace, <i>Epistles</i>, Book I. 7.<br> +[<a name="III26">26</a>] <i>A vast variety of cases</i>.--Chamfort says of this passage: "La + Fontaine, with his usual delicacy, here alludes to the king's + farmers and other officers in place; and abruptly quits the subject + as if he felt himself on ticklish ground."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="3XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT.[<a href="#III27">27</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A story-writer of our sort + Historifies, in short, + Of one that may be reckon'd + A Rodilard the Second,--[<a href="#III28">28</a>] + The Alexander of the cats, + The Attila,[<a href="#III29">29</a>] the scourge of rats, + Whose fierce and whisker'd head + Among the latter spread, + A league around, its dread; + Who seem'd, indeed, determined + The world should be unvermined. + The planks with props more false than slim, + The tempting heaps of poison'd meal, + The traps of wire and traps of steel, + Were only play compared with him. + At length, so sadly were they scared. + The rats and mice no longer dared + To show their thievish faces + Outside their hiding-places, + Thus shunning all pursuit; whereat + Our crafty General Cat + Contrived to hang himself, as dead, + Beside the wall with downward head, + Resisting gravitation's laws + By clinging with his hinder claws + To some small bit of string. + The rats esteem'd the thing + A judgment for some naughty deed, + Some thievish snatch, + Or ugly scratch; + And thought their foe had got his meed + By being hung indeed. + With hope elated all + Of laughing at his funeral, + They thrust their noses out in air; + And now to show their heads they dare; + Now dodging back, now venturing more; + At last upon the larder's store + They fall to filching, as of yore. + A scanty feast enjoy'd these shallows; + Down dropp'd the hung one from his gallows, + And of the hindmost caught. + 'Some other tricks to me are known,' + Said he, while tearing bone from bone, + 'By long experience taught; + The point is settled, free from doubt, + That from your holes you shall come out.' + His threat as good as prophecy + Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly; + For, putting on a mealy robe, + He squatted in an open tub, + And held his purring and his breath;-- + Out came the vermin to their death. + On this occasion, one old stager, + A rat as grey as any badger, + Who had in battle lost his tail, + Abstained from smelling at the meal; + And cried, far off, 'Ah! General Cat, + I much suspect a heap like that; + Your meal is not the thing, perhaps, + For one who knows somewhat of traps; + Should you a sack of meal become, + I'd let you be, and stay at home.' + + Well said, I think, and prudently, + By one who knew distrust to be + The parent of security. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="III27">27</a>] Phaedrus, Book IV. 2: also in Aesop, and Faerno.<br> +[<a name="III28">28</a>] <i>Rodilard the Second.</i>--Another allusion to Rabelais's cat + Rodilardus. See <a href="#2II">Fable II., Book II.</a><br> +[<a name="III29">29</a>] <i>Attila</i>.--The King of the Huns, who, for overrunning half + Europe, was termed the Scourge of God.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + + +<h3><a name="IV">BOOK</a> IV.</h3> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="4I">I</a>.--THE LION IN LOVE.[<a href="#IV1">1</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Mademoiselle De Sévigné.[<a href="#IV2">2</a>]</p> +<pre> + Sévigné, type of every grace + In female form and face, + In your regardlessness of men, + Can you show favour when + The sportive fable craves your ear, + And see, unmoved by fear, + A lion's haughty heart + Thrust through by Love's audacious dart? + Strange conqueror, Love! And happy he, + And strangely privileged and free, + Who only knows by story + Him and his feats of glory! + If on this subject you are wont + To think the simple truth too blunt, + The fabulous may less affront; + Which now, inspired with gratitude, + Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, + Doth venture to intrude + Within your maiden solitude, + And kneel, your humble servant.-- + In times when animals were speakers, + Among the quadrupedal seekers + Of our alliance + There came the lions. + And wherefore not? for then + They yielded not to men + In point of courage or of sense, + Nor were in looks without pretence. + A high-born lion, on his way + Across a meadow, met one day + A shepherdess, who charm'd him so, + That, as such matters ought to go, + He sought the maiden for his bride. + Her sire, it cannot be denied, + Had much preferr'd a son-in-law + Of less terrific mouth and paw. + It was not easy to decide-- + The lion might the gift abuse-- + 'Twas not quite prudent to refuse. + And if refusal there should be, + Perhaps a marriage one would see, + Some morning, made clandestinely. + For, over and above + The fact that she could bear + With none but males of martial air, + The lady was in love + With him of shaggy hair. + Her sire, much wanting cover + To send away the lover, + Thus spoke:--'My daughter, sir, + Is delicate. I fear to her + Your fond caressings + Will prove rough blessings. + To banish all alarm + About such sort of harm, + Permit us to remove the cause, + By filing off your teeth and claws. + In such a case, your royal kiss + Will be to her a safer bliss, + And to yourself a sweeter; + Since she will more respond + To those endearments fond + With which you greet her.' + The lion gave consent at once, + By love so great a dunce! + Without a tooth or claw now view him-- + A fort with cannon spiked. + The dogs, let loose upon him, slew him, + All biting safely where they liked. + + O, tyrant Love! when held by you, + We may to prudence bid adieu. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV1">1</a>] Aesop, also Verdizotti.<br> +[<a name="IV2">2</a>] <i>Mademoiselle de Sévigné</i>.--Francoise-Marguerite de Sévigné, + afterwards Madame de Grignan, the daughter of the celebrated Madame + de Sévigné. The famous Sévigné "Letters" were for the most part + addressed to Madame de Grignan. For some account of Madame de Sévigné + and La Fontaine, see the Translator's Preface; also <a href="#VII15">note to Fable XI. + Book VII</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4II">II</a>.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA.[<a href="#IV3">3</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, + Lived with his flock contentedly. + His fortune, though but small, + Was safe within his call. + At last some stranded kegs of gold + Him tempted, and his flock he sold, + Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves + Bore all his treasure--to its caves. + Brought back to keeping sheep once more, + But not chief shepherd, as before, + When sheep were his that grazed the shore, + He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis, + Might once have shone in pastoral verses, + Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre, + Was nothing now but Peter. + But time and toil redeem'd in full + Those harmless creatures rich in wool; + And as the lulling winds, one day, + The vessels wafted with a gentle motion, + 'Want you,' he cried, 'more money, Madam Ocean? + Address yourself to some one else, I pray; + You shall not get it out of me! + I know too well your treachery.' + + This tale's no fiction, but a fact, + Which, by experience back'd, + Proves that a single penny, + At present held, and certain, + Is worth five times as many, + Of Hope's, beyond the curtain; + That one should be content with his condition, + And shut his ears to counsels of ambition, + More faithless than the wreck-strown sea, and which + Doth thousands beggar where it makes one rich,-- + Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms, + And blasts the same with piracy and storms. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV3">3</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4III">III</a>.--THE FLY AND THE ANT.[<a href="#IV4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, + Discuss'd the question of their rank. + 'O Jupiter!' the former said, + 'Can love of self so turn the head, + That one so mean and crawling, + And of so low a calling, + To boast equality shall dare + With me, the daughter of the air? + In palaces I am a guest, + And even at thy glorious feast. + Whene'er the people that adore thee + May immolate for thee a bullock, + I'm sure to taste the meat before thee. + Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock, + Is living on some bit of straw + Which she has labour'd home to draw. + But tell me now, my little thing, + Do you camp ever on a king, + An emperor, or lady? + I do, and have full many a play-day + On fairest bosom of the fair, + And sport myself upon her hair. + Come now, my hearty, rack your brain + To make a case about your grain.' + 'Well, have you done?' replied the ant. + 'You enter palaces, I grant, + And for it get right soundly cursed. + Of sacrifices, rich and fat, + Your taste, quite likely, is the first;-- + Are they the better off for that? + You enter with the holy train; + So enters many a wretch profane. + On heads of kings and asses you may squat; + Deny your vaunting I will not; + But well such impudence, I know, + Provokes a sometimes fatal blow. + The name in which your vanity delights + Is own'd as well by parasites, + And spies that die by ropes--as you soon will + By famine or by ague-chill, + When Phoebus goes to cheer + The other hemisphere,-- + The very time to me most dear. + Not forced abroad to go + Through wind, and rain, and snow, + My summer's work I then enjoy, + And happily my mind employ, + From care by care exempted. + By which this truth I leave to you, + That by two sorts of glory we are tempted, + The false one and the true. + Work waits, time flies; adieu:-- + This gabble does not fill + My granary or till.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV4">4</a>] Phaedrus, IV. 23.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4IV">IV</a>.--THE GARDENER AND HIS LORD.</h4> +<pre> + A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, + Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town; + And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed, + Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed, + A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme, + Grew gaily, and all in their prime + To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet, + The grace of her bright wedding day. + For poaching in such a nice field--'twas a shame; + A foraging, cud-chewing hare was to blame. + Whereof the good owner bore down + This tale to the lord of the town:-- + 'Some mischievous animal, morning and night, + In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite. + He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and snares; + For clubbing and stoning as little he cares. + I think him a wizard. A wizard! the coot! + I'd catch him if he were a devil to boot!' + The lord said, in haste to have sport for his hounds, + 'I'll clear him, I warrant you, out of your grounds; + To morrow I'll do it without any fail.' + + The thing thus agreed on, all hearty and hale, + The lord and his party, at crack of the dawn, + With hounds at their heels canter'd over the lawn. + Arrived, said the lord in his jovial mood, + 'We'll breakfast with you, if your chickens are good. + That lass, my good man, I suppose is your daughter: + No news of a son-in-law? Any one sought her? + No doubt, by the score. Keep an eye on the docket, + Eh? Dost understand me? I speak of the pocket.' + So saying, the daughter he graciously greeted, + And close by his lordship he bade her be seated; + Avow'd himself pleased with so handsome a maid, + And then with her kerchief familiarly play'd,-- + Impertinent freedoms the virtuous fair + Repell'd with a modest and lady-like air,-- + So much that her father a little suspected + The girl had already a lover elected. + Meanwhile in the kitchen what bustling and cooking! + 'For what are your hams? They are very good looking.' + 'They're kept for your lordship.' 'I take them,' said he; + 'Such elegant flitches are welcome to me.' + He breakfasted finely his troop, with delight,-- + Dogs, horses, and grooms of the best appetite. + Thus he govern'd his host in the shape of a guest, + Unbottled his wine, and his daughter caress'd. + To breakfast, the huddle of hunters succeeds, + The yelping of dogs and the neighing of steeds, + All cheering and fixing for wonderful deeds; + The horns and the bugles make thundering din; + Much wonders our gardener what it can mean. + The worst is, his garden most wofully fares; + Adieu to its arbours, and borders, and squares; + Adieu to its chiccory, onions, and leeks; + Adieu to whatever good cookery seeks. + + Beneath a great cabbage the hare was in bed, + Was started, and shot at, and hastily fled. + Off went the wild chase, with a terrible screech, + And not through a hole, but a horrible breach, + Which some one had made, at the beck of the lord, + Wide through the poor hedge! 'Twould have been quite absurd + Should lordship not freely from garden go out, + On horseback, attended by rabble and rout. + Scarce suffer'd the gard'ner his patience to wince, + Consoling himself--'Twas the sport of a prince; + While bipeds and quadrupeds served to devour, + And trample, and waste, in the space of an hour, + Far more than a nation of foraging hares + Could possibly do in a hundred of years. + + Small princes, this story is true, + When told in relation to you. + In settling your quarrels with kings for your tools, + You prove yourselves losers and eminent fools. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4V">V</a>.--THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.[<a href="#IV5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + One's native talent from its course + Cannot be turned aside by force; + But poorly apes the country clown + The polish'd manners of the town. + Their Maker chooses but a few + With power of pleasing to imbue; + Where wisely leave it we, the mass, + Unlike a certain fabled ass, + That thought to gain his master's blessing + By jumping on him and caressing. + 'What!' said the donkey in his heart; + 'Ought it to be that puppy's part + To lead his useless life + In full companionship + With master and his wife, + While I must bear the whip? + What doth the cur a kiss to draw? + Forsooth, he only gives his paw! + If that is all there needs to please, + I'll do the thing myself, with ease.' + Possess'd with this bright notion,-- + His master sitting on his chair, + At leisure in the open air,-- + He ambled up, with awkward motion, + And put his talents to the proof; + Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof, + And, with an amiable mien, + His master patted on the chin, + The action gracing with a word-- + The fondest bray that e'er was heard! + O, such caressing was there ever? + Or melody with such a quaver? + 'Ho! Martin![<a href="#IV6">6</a>] here! a club, a club bring!' + Out cried the master, sore offended. + So Martin gave the ass a drubbing,-- + And so the comedy was ended. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV5">5</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="IV6">6</a>] <i>Martin</i>.--La Fontaine has "Martin-bâton," a name for a groom or + ostler armed with his cudgel of office, taken from Rabelais.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4VI">VI</a>.--THE BATTLE OF THE RATS AND THE WEASELS.[<a href="#IV7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The weasels live, no more than cats, + On terms of friendship with the rats; + And, were it not that these + Through doors contrive to squeeze + Too narrow for their foes, + The animals long-snouted + Would long ago have routed, + And from the planet scouted + Their race, as I suppose. + + One year it did betide, + When they were multiplied, + An army took the field + Of rats, with spear and shield, + Whose crowded ranks led on + A king named Ratapon. + The weasels, too, their banner + Unfurl'd in warlike manner. + As Fame her trumpet sounds, + The victory balanced well; + Enrich'd were fallow grounds + Where slaughter'd legions fell; + But by said trollop's tattle, + The loss of life in battle + Thinn'd most the rattish race + In almost every place; + And finally their rout + Was total, spite of stout + Artarpax and Psicarpax, + And valiant Meridarpax,[<a href="#IV8">8</a>] + Who, cover'd o'er with dust, + Long time sustain'd their host + Down sinking on the plain. + Their efforts were in vain; + Fate ruled that final hour, + (Inexorable power!) + And so the captains fled + As well as those they led; + The princes perish'd all. + The undistinguish'd small + In certain holes found shelter, + In crowding, helter-skelter; + But the nobility + Could not go in so free, + Who proudly had assumed + Each one a helmet plumed; + We know not, truly, whether + For honour's sake the feather, + Or foes to strike with terror; + But, truly, 'twas their error. + Nor hole, nor crack, nor crevice + Will let their head-gear in; + While meaner rats in bevies + An easy passage win;-- + So that the shafts of fate + Do chiefly hit the great. + + A feather in the cap + Is oft a great mishap. + An equipage too grand + Comes often to a stand + Within a narrow place. + The small, whate'er the case, + With ease slip through a strait, + Where larger folks must wait. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV7">7</a>] Phaedrus, Book IV. 6.<br> +[<a name="IV8">8</a>] Names of rats, invented by Homer.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4VII">VII</a>.--THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN.[<a href="#IV9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + It was the custom of the Greeks + For passengers o'er sea to carry + Both monkeys full of tricks + And funny dogs to make them merry. + A ship, that had such things on deck, + Not far from Athens, went to wreck. + But for the dolphins, all had drown'd. + They are a philanthropic fish, + Which fact in Pliny may be found;-- + A better voucher who could wish? + They did their best on this occasion. + A monkey even, on their plan + Well nigh attain'd his own salvation; + A dolphin took him for a man, + And on his dorsal gave him place. + So grave the silly creature's face, + That one might well have set him down + That old musician of renown.[<a href="#IV10">10</a>] + The fish had almost reach'd the land, + When, as it happen'd,--what a pity!-- + He ask'd, 'Are you from Athens grand?' + 'Yes; well they know me in that city. + If ever you have business there, + I'll help you do it, for my kin + The highest offices are in. + My cousin, sir, is now lord mayor.' + The dolphin thank'd him, with good grace, + Both for himself and all his race, + And ask'd, 'You doubtless know Piraeus, + Where, should we come to town, you'll see us.' + 'Piraeus? yes, indeed I know; + He was my crony long ago.' + The dunce knew not the harbour's name, + And for a man's mistook the same. + The people are by no means few, + Who never went ten miles from home, + Nor know their market-town from Rome, + Yet cackle just as if they knew. + The dolphin laugh'd, and then began + His rider's form and face to scan, + And found himself about to save + From fishy feasts, beneath the wave, + A mere resemblance of a man. + So, plunging down, he turn'd to find + Some drowning wight of human kind. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV9">9</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="IV10">10</a>] Arion.--Translator. + According to Herodotus, I. 24 (Bonn's ed., p. 9), Arion, the son of + Cyclon of Methymna, and famous lyric poet and musician, having won + riches at a musical contest in Sicily, was voyaging home, when the + sailors of his ship determined to murder him for his treasure. He + asked to be allowed to play a tune; and as soon as he had finished + he threw himself into the sea. It was then found that the music had + attracted a number of dolphins round the ship, and one of these took + the bard on its back and conveyed him safely to Taenarus.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4VIII">VIII</a>.--THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.[<a href="#IV11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A pagan kept a god of wood,-- + A sort that never hears, + Though furnish'd well with ears,-- + From which he hoped for wondrous good. + The idol cost the board of three; + So much enrich'd was he + With vows and offerings vain, + With bullocks garlanded and slain: + No idol ever had, as that, + A kitchen quite so full and fat. + But all this worship at his shrine + Brought not from this same block divine + Inheritance, or hidden mine, + Or luck at play, or any favour. + Nay, more, if any storm whatever + Brew'd trouble here or there, + The man was sure to have his share, + And suffer in his purse, + Although the god fared none the worse. + At last, by sheer impatience bold, + The man a crowbar seizes, + His idol breaks in pieces, + And finds it richly stuff'd with gold. + 'How's this? Have I devoutly treated,' + Says he, 'your godship, to be cheated? + Now leave my house, and go your way, + And search for altars where you may. + You're like those natures, dull and gross, + From, which comes nothing but by blows; + The more I gave, the less I got; + I'll now be rich, and you may rot.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV11">11</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4IX">IX</a>.--THE JAY IN THE FEATHERS OF THE PEACOCK.[<a href="#IV12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A peacock moulted: soon a jay was seen + Bedeck'd with Argus tail of gold and green,[<a href="#IV13">13</a>] + High strutting, with elated crest, + As much a peacock as the rest. + His trick was recognized and bruited, + His person jeer'd at, hiss'd, and hooted. + The peacock gentry flock'd together, + And pluck'd the fool of every feather. + Nay more, when back he sneak'd to join his race, + They shut their portals in his face. + + There is another sort of jay, + The number of its legs the same, + Which makes of borrow'd plumes display, + And plagiary is its name. + But hush! the tribe I'll not offend; + 'Tis not my work their ways to mend. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV12">12</a>] Aesop; Phaedrus, I. 3.<br> +[<a name="IV13">13</a>] <i>Argus tail of gold and green.</i>--According to mythology, Argus, + surnamed Panoptes (or all-seeing), possessed a hundred eyes, some of + which were never closed in sleep. At his death Juno either + transformed him into the peacock, or transferred his hundred eyes to + the tail of that, her favourite, bird. "Argus tail of gold and + green," therefore, means tail endowed with the eyes of Argus.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4X">X</a>.--THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.[<a href="#IV14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The first who saw the humpback'd camel + Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; + The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare + The desert wanderer to trammel. + Such is the power of use to change + The face of objects new and strange; + Which grow, by looking at, so tame, + They do not even seem the same. + And since this theme is up for our attention, + A certain watchman I will mention, + Who, seeing something far + Away upon the ocean, + Could not but speak his notion + That 'twas a ship of war. + Some minutes more had past,-- + A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail, + And then a boat, and then a bale, + And floating sticks of wood at last! + + Full many things on earth, I wot, + Will claim this tale,--and well they may; + They're something dreadful far away, + But near at hand--they're not. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV14">14</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XI">XI</a>.--THE FROG AND THE RAT.[<a href="#IV15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + They to bamboozle are inclined, + Saith Merlin,[<a href="#IV16">16</a>] who bamboozled are. + The word, though rather unrefined, + Has yet an energy we ill can spare; + So by its aid I introduce my tale. + A well-fed rat, rotund and hale, + Not knowing either Fast or Lent, + Disporting round a frog-pond went. + A frog approach'd, and, with a friendly greeting, + Invited him to see her at her home, + And pledged a dinner worth his eating,-- + To which the rat was nothing loath to come. + Of words persuasive there was little need: + She spoke, however, of a grateful bath; + Of sports and curious wonders on their path; + Of rarities of flower, and rush, and reed: + One day he would recount with glee + To his assembled progeny + The various beauties of these places, + The customs of the various races, + And laws that sway the realms aquatic, + (She did not mean the hydrostatic!) + One thing alone the rat perplex'd,-- + He was but moderate as a swimmer. + The frog this matter nicely fix'd + By kindly lending him her + Long paw, which with a rush she tied + To his; and off they started, side by side. + Arrived upon the lakelet's brink, + There was but little time to think. + The frog leap'd in, and almost brought her + Bound guest to land beneath the water. + Perfidious breach of law and right! + She meant to have a supper warm + Out of his sleek and dainty form. + Already did her appetite + Dwell on the morsel with delight. + The gods, in anguish, he invokes; + His faithless hostess rudely mocks; + He struggles up, she struggles down. + A kite, that hovers in the air, + Inspecting everything with care, + Now spies the rat belike to drown, + And, with a rapid wing, + Upbears the wretched thing, + The frog, too, dangling by the string! + The joy of such a double haul + Was to the hungry kite not small. + It gave him all that he could wish-- + A double meal of flesh and fish. + + The best contrived deceit + Can hurt its own contriver, + And perfidy doth often cheat + Its author's purse of every stiver. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV15">15</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="IV16">16</a>] <i>Merlin.</i>--This is Merlin, the wizard of the old French novels.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XII">XII</a>.--THE ANIMALS SENDING TRIBUTE TO ALEXANDER.[<a href="#IV17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fable flourished with antiquity + Whose meaning I could never clearly see. + Kind reader, draw the moral if you're able: + I give you here the naked fable. + Fame having bruited that a great commander, + A son of Jove, a certain Alexander, + Resolved to leave nought free on this our ball, + Had to his footstool gravely summon'd all + Men, quadrupeds, and nullipeds, together + With all the bird-republics, every feather,-- + The goddess of the hundred mouths, I say, + Thus having spread dismay, + By widely publishing abroad + This mandate of the demigod, + The animals, and all that do obey + Their appetite alone, mistrusted now + That to another sceptre they must bow. + Far in the desert met their various races, + All gathering from their hiding-places. + Discuss'd was many a notion. + At last, it was resolved, on motion, + To pacify the conquering banner, + By sending homage in, and tribute. + With both the homage and its manner + They charged the monkey, as a glib brute; + And, lest the chap should too much chatter, + In black on white they wrote the matter. + Nought but the tribute served to fash, + As that must needs be paid in cash. + A prince, who chanced a mine to own, + At last, obliged them with a loan. + The mule and ass, to bear the treasure, + Their service tender'd, full of pleasure; + And then the caravan was none the worse, + Assisted by the camel and the horse. + Forthwith proceeded all the four + Behind the new ambassador, + And saw, erelong, within a narrow place, + Monseigneur Lion's quite unwelcome face. + 'Well met, and all in time,' said he; + 'Myself your fellow traveller will be. + I wend my tribute by itself to bear; + And though 'tis light, I well might spare + The unaccustom'd load. + Take each a quarter, if you please, + And I will guard you on the road; + More free and at my ease-- + In better plight, you understand, + To fight with any robber band.' + A lion to refuse, the fact is, + Is not a very usual practice: + So in he comes, for better and for worse; + Whatever he demands is done, + And, spite of Jove's heroic son, + He fattens freely from the public purse. + While wending on their way, + They found a spot one day, + With waters hemm'd, of crystal sheen; + Its carpet, flower-besprinkled green; + Where pastured at their ease + Both flocks of sheep and dainty heifers, + And play'd the cooling breeze-- + The native land of all the zephyrs. + No sooner is the lion there + Than of some sickness he complains. + Says he, 'You on your mission fare. + A fever, with its thirst and pains, + Dries up my blood, and bakes my brains; + And I must search some herb, + Its fatal power to curb. + For you, there is no time to waste; + Pay me my money, and make haste.' + The treasures were unbound, + And placed upon the ground. + Then, with a look which testified + His royal joy, the lion cried, + 'My coins, good heavens, have multiplied! + And see the young ones of the gold + As big already as the old! + The increase belongs to me, no doubt;' + And eagerly he took it out! + 'Twas little staid beneath the lid; + The wonder was that any did. + Confounded were the monkey and his suite. + And, dumb with fear, betook them to their way, + And bore complaint to Jove's great son, they say-- + Complaint without a reason meet; + For what could he? Though a celestial scion, + He could but fight, as lion versus lion. + + When corsairs battle, Turk with Turk, + They're not about their proper work. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV17">17</a>] The story of this fable has been traced to Gilbert Cousin, in whose + works it figures with the title "De Jovis Ammonis oraculo." Gilbert + Cousin was Canon of Nozeret, and wrote between 1506 and 1569.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XIII">XIII</a>.--THE HORSE WISHING TO BE REVENGED UPON THE STAG.[<a href="#IV18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The horses have not always been + The humble slaves of men. + When, in the far-off past, + The fare of gentlemen was mast, + And even hats were never felt, + Horse, ass, and mule in forests dwelt. + Nor saw one then, as in these ages, + So many saddles, housings, pillions; + Such splendid equipages, + With golden-lace postilions; + Such harnesses for cattle, + To be consumed in battle; + As one saw not so many feasts, + And people married by the priests. + The horse fell out, within that space, + With the antler'd stag, so fleetly made: + He could not catch him in a race, + And so he came to man for aid. + Man first his suppliant bitted; + Then, on his back well seated, + Gave chase with spear, and rested not + Till to the ground the foe he brought. + This done, the honest horse, quite blindly, + Thus thank'd his benefactor kindly:-- + 'Dear sir, I'm much obliged to you; + I'll back to savage life. Adieu!' + 'O, no,' the man replied; + 'You'd better here abide; + I know too well your use. + Here, free from all abuse, + Remain a liege to me, + And large your provender shall be.' + Alas! good housing or good cheer, + That costs one's liberty, is dear. + The horse his folly now perceived, + But quite too late he grieved. + No grief his fate could alter; + His stall was built, and there he lived, + And died there in his halter. + Ah! wise had he one small offence forgot! + Revenge, however sweet, is dearly bought + By that one good, which gone, all else is nought. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV18">18</a>] Phaedrus, IV. 4; Horace (<i>Epistles</i>, Book I. 10), and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XIV">XIV</a>.--THE FOX AND THE BUST.[<a href="#IV19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The great are like the maskers of the stage; + Their show deceives the simple of the age. + For all that they appear to be they pass, + With only those whose type's the ass. + The fox, more wary, looks beneath the skin, + And looks on every side, and, when he sees + That all their glory is a semblance thin, + He turns, and saves the hinges of his knees, + With such a speech as once, 'tis said, + He utter'd to a hero's head. + A bust, somewhat colossal in its size, + Attracted crowds of wondering eyes. + The fox admired the sculptor's pains: + 'Fine head,' said he, 'but void of brains!' + The same remark to many a lord applies. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV19">19</a>] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 7 (The Fox and the Tragic Mask).</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XV">XV</a>.--THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.[<a href="#IV20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, + And browse the herbage of a distant hill, + She latch'd her door, and bid, + With matron care, her kid;-- + 'My daughter, as you live, + This portal don't undo + To any creature who + This watchword does not give: + "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"' + The wolf was passing near the place + By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, + And laid them up as useful treasure; + And hardly need we mention, + Escaped the goat's attention. + No sooner did he see + The matron off, than he, + With hypocritic tone and face, + Cried out before the place, + 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!' + Not doubting thus to gain admission. + The kid, not void of all suspicion, + Peer'd through a crack, and cried, + 'Show me white paw before + You ask me to undo the door.' + The wolf could not, if he had died, + For wolves have no connexion + With paws of that complexion. + So, much surprised, our gormandiser + Retired to fast till he was wiser. + How would the kid have been undone + Had she but trusted to the word + The wolf by chance had overheard! + Two sureties better are than one; + And caution's worth its cost, + Though sometimes seeming lost. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV20">20</a>] Corrozet; and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XVI">XVI</a>.--THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND HER CHILD.[<a href="#IV21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + This wolf another brings to mind, + Who found dame Fortune more unkind, + In that the greedy, pirate sinner, + Was balk'd of life as well as dinner. + As saith our tale, a villager + Dwelt in a by, unguarded place; + There, hungry, watch'd our pillager + For luck and chance to mend his case. + For there his thievish eyes had seen + All sorts of game go out and in-- + Nice sucking calves, and lambs and sheep; + And turkeys by the regiment, + With steps so proud, and necks so bent, + They'd make a daintier glutton weep. + The thief at length began to tire + Of being gnaw'd by vain desire. + Just then a child set up a cry: + 'Be still,' the mother said, 'or I + Will throw you to the wolf, you brat!' + 'Ha, ha!' thought he, 'what talk is that! + The gods be thank'd for luck so good!' + And ready at the door he stood, + When soothingly the mother said, + 'Now cry no more, my little dear; + That naughty wolf, if he comes here, + Your dear papa shall kill him dead.' + 'Humph!' cried the veteran mutton-eater. + 'Now this, now that! Now hot, now cool! + Is this the way they change their metre? + And do they take me for a fool? + Some day, a nutting in the wood, + That young one yet shall be my food.' + But little time has he to dote + On such a feast; the dogs rush out + And seize the caitiff by the throat; + And country ditchers, thick and stout, + With rustic spears and forks of iron, + The hapless animal environ. + 'What brought you here, old head?' cried one. + He told it all, as I have done. + 'Why, bless my soul!' the frantic mother said,-- + 'You, villain, eat my little son! + And did I nurse the darling boy, + Your fiendish appetite to cloy?' + With that they knock'd him on the head. + His feet and scalp they bore to town, + To grace the seigneur's hall, + Where, pinn'd against the wall, + This verse completed his renown:-- + "Ye honest wolves, believe not all + That mothers say, when children squall!" +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV21">21</a>] Aesop; and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XVII">XVII</a>.--THE WORDS OF SOCRATES.[<a href="#IV22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A house was built by Socrates + That failed the public taste to please. + Some blamed the inside; some, the out; and all + Agreed that the apartments were too small. + Such rooms for him, the greatest sage of Greece! + 'I ask,' said he, 'no greater bliss + Than real friends to fill e'en this.' + And reason had good Socrates + To think his house too large for these. + A crowd to be your friends will claim, + Till some unhandsome test you bring. + There's nothing plentier than the name; + There's nothing rarer than the thing. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV22">22</a>] Phaedrus, III. 9.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS.[<a href="#IV23">23</a>]</h4> +<pre> + All power is feeble with dissension: + For this I quote the Phrygian slave.[24] + If aught I add to his invention, + It is our manners to engrave, + And not from any envious wishes;-- + I'm not so foolishly ambitious. + Phaedrus enriches oft his story, + In quest--I doubt it not--of glory: + Such thoughts were idle in my breast. + An aged man, near going to his rest, + His gather'd sons thus solemnly address'd:-- + 'To break this bunch of arrows you may try; + And, first, the string that binds them I untie.' + The eldest, having tried with might and main, + Exclaim'd, 'This bundle I resign + To muscles sturdier than mine.' + The second tried, and bow'd himself in vain. + The youngest took them with the like success. + All were obliged their weakness to confess. + Unharm'd the arrows pass'd from son to son; + Of all they did not break a single one. + 'Weak fellows!' said their sire, 'I now must show + What in the case my feeble strength can do.' + They laugh'd, and thought their father but in joke, + Till, one by one, they saw the arrows broke. + 'See, concord's power!' replied the sire; 'as long + As you in love agree, you will be strong. + I go, my sons, to join our fathers good; + Now promise me to live as brothers should, + And soothe by this your dying father's fears.' + Each strictly promised with a flood of tears. + Their father took them by the hand, and died; + And soon the virtue of their vows was tried. + Their sire had left a large estate + Involved in lawsuits intricate; + Here seized a creditor, and there + A neighbour levied for a share. + At first the trio nobly bore + The brunt of all this legal war. + But short their friendship as 'twas rare. + Whom blood had join'd--and small the wonder!-- + The force of interest drove asunder; + And, as is wont in such affairs, + Ambition, envy, were co-heirs. + In parcelling their sire's estate, + They quarrel, quibble, litigate, + Each aiming to supplant the other. + The judge, by turns, condemns each brother. + Their creditors make new assault, + Some pleading error, some default. + The sunder'd brothers disagree; + For counsel one, have counsels three. + All lose their wealth; and now their sorrows + Bring fresh to mind those broken arrows. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV23">23</a>] Aesop, Avianus, and others.<br> +[<a name="IV24">24</a>] <i>Phrygan slave.</i>--Aesop. See Translator's Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XIX">XIX</a>.--THE ORACLE AND THE ATHEIST.[<a href="#IV25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + That man his Maker can deceive, + Is monstrous folly to believe. + The labyrinthine mazes of the heart + Are open to His eyes in every part. + Whatever one may do, or think, or feel, + From Him no darkness can the thing conceal. + A pagan once, of graceless heart and hollow, + Whose faith in gods, I'm apprehensive, + Was quite as real as expensive. + Consulted, at his shrine, the god Apollo. + 'Is what I hold alive, or not?' + Said he,--a sparrow having brought, + Prepared to wring its neck, or let it fly, + As need might be, to give the god the lie. + Apollo saw the trick, + And answer'd quick, + 'Dead or alive, show me your sparrow, + And cease to set for me a trap + Which can but cause yourself mishap. + I see afar, and far I shoot my arrow.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV25">25</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XX">XX</a>.--THE MISER WHO HAD LOST HIS TREASURE.[<a href="#IV26">26</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 'Tis use that constitutes possession. + I ask that sort of men, whose passion + It is to get and never spend, + Of all their toil what is the end? + What they enjoy of all their labours + Which do not equally their neighbours? + Throughout this upper mortal strife, + The miser leads a beggar's life. + Old Aesop's man of hidden treasure + May serve the case to demonstrate. + He had a great estate, + But chose a second life to wait + Ere he began to taste his pleasure. + This man, whom gold so little bless'd, + Was not possessor, but possess'd. + His cash he buried under ground, + Where only might his heart be found; + It being, then, his sole delight + To ponder of it day and night, + And consecrate his rusty pelf, + A sacred offering, to himself. + In all his eating, drinking, travel, + Most wondrous short of funds he seem'd; + One would have thought he little dream'd + Where lay such sums beneath the gravel. + A ditcher mark'd his coming to the spot, + So frequent was it, + And thus at last some little inkling got + Of the deposit. + He took it all, and babbled not. + One morning, ere the dawn, + Forth had our miser gone + To worship what he loved the best, + When, lo! he found an empty nest! + Alas! what groaning, wailing, crying! + What deep and bitter sighing! + His torment makes him tear + Out by the roots his hair. + A passenger demandeth why + Such marvellous outcry. + 'They've got my gold! it's gone--it's gone!' + 'Your gold! pray where?'--'Beneath this stone.' + 'Why, man, is this a time of war, + That you should bring your gold so far? + You'd better keep it in your drawer; + And I'll be bound, if once but in it, + You could have got it any minute.' + 'At any minute! Ah, Heaven knows + That cash comes harder than it goes! + I touch'd it not.'--'Then have the grace + To explain to me that rueful face,' + Replied the man; 'for, if 'tis true + You touch'd it not, how plain the case, + That, put the stone back in its place, + And all will be as well for you!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV26">26</a>] Aesop, and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XXI">XXI</a>.--THE EYE OF THE MASTER.[<a href="#IV27">27</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A stag took refuge from the chase + Among the oxen of a stable, + Who counsel'd him, as saith the fable, + To seek at once some safer place. + 'My brothers,' said the fugitive, + 'Betray me not, and, as I live, + The richest pasture I will show, + That e'er was grazed on, high or low; + Your kindness you will not regret, + For well some day I'll pay the debt.' + The oxen promised secrecy. + Down crouch'd the stag, and breathed more free. + At eventide they brought fresh hay, + As was their custom day by day; + And often came the servants near, + As did indeed the overseer, + But with so little thought or care, + That neither horns, nor hide, nor hair + Reveal'd to them the stag was there. + Already thank'd the wild-wood stranger + The oxen for their treatment kind, + And there to wait made up his mind, + Till he might issue free from danger. + Replied an ox that chew'd the cud, + 'Your case looks fairly in the bud; + But then I fear the reason why + Is, that the man of sharpest eye + Hath not yet come his look to take. + I dread his coming, for your sake; + Your boasting may be premature: + Till then, poor stag, you're not secure.' + 'Twas but a little while before + The careful master oped the door. + 'How's this, my boys?' said he; + 'These empty racks will never do. + Go, change this dirty litter too. + More care than this I want to see + Of oxen that belong to me. + Well, Jim, my boy, you're young and stout; + What would it cost to clear these cobwebs out? + And put these yokes, and hames, and traces, + All as they should be, in their places?' + Thus looking round, he came to see + One head he did not usually. + The stag is found; his foes + Deal heavily their blows. + Down sinks he in the strife; + No tears can save his life. + They slay, and dress, and salt the beast, + And cook his flesh in many a feast, + And many a neighbour gets a taste. + As Phaedrus says it, pithily, + The master's is the eye to see:-- + I add the lover's, as for me. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV27">27</a>] Phaedrus, II. 8 (The Stag and the Oxen); and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="4XXII">XXII</a>.--THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES WITH THE OWNER OF A FIELD.[<a href="#IV28">28</a>]</h4> +<pre> + "Depend upon yourself alone," + Has to a common proverb grown. + 'Tis thus confirm'd in Aesop's way:-- + The larks to build their nests are seen + Among the wheat-crops young and green; + That is to say, + What time all things, dame Nature heeding, + Betake themselves to love and breeding-- + The monstrous whales and sharks, + Beneath the briny flood, + The tigers in the wood, + And in the fields, the larks. + One she, however, of these last, + Found more than half the spring-time past + Without the taste of spring-time pleasures; + When firmly she set up her will + That she would be a mother still, + And resolutely took her measures;-- + First, got herself by Hymen match'd; + Then built her nest, laid, sat, and hatch'd. + All went as well as such things could. + The wheat-crop ripening ere the brood + Were strong enough to take their flight, + Aware how perilous their plight, + The lark went out to search for food, + And told her young to listen well, + And keep a constant sentinel. + 'The owner of this field,' said she, + 'Will come, I know, his grain to see. + Hear all he says; we little birds + Must shape our conduct by his words.' + No sooner was the lark away, + Than came the owner with his son. + 'This wheat is ripe,' said he: 'now run + And give our friends a call + To bring their sickles all, + And help us, great and small, + To-morrow, at the break of day.' + The lark, returning, found no harm, + Except her nest in wild alarm. + Says one, 'We heard the owner say, + Go, give our friends a call + To help, to-morrow, break of day.' + Replied the lark, 'If that is all, + We need not be in any fear, + But only keep an open ear. + As gay as larks, now eat your victuals.--' + They ate and slept--the great and littles. + The dawn arrives, but not the friends; + The lark soars up, the owner wends + His usual round to view his land. + 'This grain,' says he, 'ought not to stand. + Our friends do wrong; and so does he + Who trusts that friends will friendly be. + My son, go call our kith and kin + To help us get our harvest in.' + This second order made + The little larks still more afraid. + 'He sent for kindred, mother, by his son; + The work will now, indeed, be done.' + 'No, darlings; go to sleep; + Our lowly nest we'll keep.' + With reason said; for kindred there came none. + Thus, tired of expectation vain, + Once more the owner view'd his grain. + 'My son,' said he, 'we're surely fools + To wait for other people's tools; + As if one might, for love or pelf, + Have friends more faithful than himself! + Engrave this lesson deep, my son. + And know you now what must be done? + We must ourselves our sickles bring, + And, while the larks their matins sing, + Begin the work; and, on this plan, + Get in our harvest as we can.' + This plan the lark no sooner knew, + Than, 'Now's the time,' she said, 'my chicks;' + And, taking little time to fix, + Away they flew; + All fluttering, soaring, often grounding, + Decamp'd without a trumpet sounding. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IV28">28</a>] Aesop (Aulus Gellus); Avianus.</p> + +<br><hr><br> + + +<h3><a name="V">BOOK</a> V.</h3> + +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="5I">I</a>.--THE WOODMAN AND MERCURY.[<a href="#V1">1</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To M. The Chevalier De Bouillon.[<a href="#V2">2</a>] +<pre> + Your taste has served my work to guide; + To gain its suffrage I have tried. + You'd have me shun a care too nice, + Or beauty at too dear a price, + Or too much effort, as a vice. + My taste with yours agrees: + Such effort cannot please; + And too much pains about the polish + Is apt the substance to abolish; + Not that it would be right or wise + The graces all to ostracize. + You love them much when delicate; + Nor is it left for me to hate. + As to the scope of Aesop's plan,[<a href="#V3">3</a>] + I fail as little as I can. + If this my rhymed and measured speech + Availeth not to please or teach, + I own it not a fault of mine; + Some unknown reason I assign. + With little strength endued + For battles rough and rude, + Or with Herculean arm to smite, + I show to vice its foolish plight. + In this my talent wholly lies; + Not that it does at all suffice. + My fable sometimes brings to view + The face of vanity purblind + With that of restless envy join'd; + And life now turns upon these pivots two. + Such is the silly little frog + That aped the ox upon her bog. + A double image sometimes shows + How vice and folly do oppose + The ways of virtue and good sense; + As lambs with wolves so grim and gaunt, + The silly fly and frugal ant. + Thus swells my work--a comedy immense-- + Its acts unnumber'd and diverse, + Its scene the boundless universe. + Gods, men, and brutes, all play their part + In fields of nature or of art, + And Jupiter among the rest. + Here comes the god who's wont to bear + Jove's frequent errands to the fair, + With winged heels and haste; + But other work's in hand to-day. + + A man that labour'd in the wood + Had lost his honest livelihood; + That is to say, + His axe was gone astray. + He had no tools to spare; + This wholly earn'd his fare. + Without a hope beside, + He sat him down and cried, + 'Alas, my axe! where can it be? + O Jove! but send it back to me, + And it shall strike good blows for thee.' + His prayer in high Olympus heard, + Swift Mercury started at the word. + 'Your axe must not be lost,' said he: + 'Now, will you know it when you see? + An axe I found upon the road.' + With that an axe of gold he show'd. + 'Is't this?' The woodman answer'd, 'Nay.' + An axe of silver, bright and gay, + Refused the honest woodman too. + At last the finder brought to view + An axe of iron, steel, and wood. + 'That's mine,' he said, in joyful mood; + 'With that I'll quite contented be.' + The god replied, 'I give the three, + As due reward of honesty.' + This luck when neighbouring choppers knew, + They lost their axes, not a few, + And sent their prayers to Jupiter + So fast, he knew not which to hear. + His winged son, however, sent + With gold and silver axes, went. + Each would have thought himself a fool + Not to have own'd the richest tool. + But Mercury promptly gave, instead + Of it, a blow upon the head. + With simple truth to be contented, + Is surest not to be repented; + But still there are who would + With evil trap the good,-- + Whose cunning is but stupid, + For Jove is never dupèd. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V1">1</a>] Aesop. There is also a version of the story in Rabelais, Book IV, + <i>Prologue</i>.<br> +[<a name="V2">2</a>] La Fontaine's dedication is in initials thus:--"A. M. L. C. D. B." + which are interpreted by some as meaning, "To M. the Chevalier de + Bouillon" (as above), and by others as meaning, "To Monseigneur le + Cardinal de Bouillon."<br> +[<a name="V3">3</a>] <i>Aesop's plan</i>.--Here, as in the <a href="#VII">dedication of Book VII.</a>, <a href="#1II">Fable + II., Book I.</a>, <a href="#3I">Fable I., Book III.</a>, <a href="#6I">Fable I., Book VI.</a>, <a href="#8IV">Fable IV., + Book VIII.</a>, and <a href="#9I">Fable I., Book IX.</a>, the poet treats of the nature and + uses of Fable.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5II">II</a>.--THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT.[<a href="#V4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + An iron pot proposed + To an earthen pot a journey. + The latter was opposed, + Expressing the concern he + Had felt about the danger + Of going out a ranger. + He thought the kitchen hearth + The safest place on earth + For one so very brittle. + 'For thee, who art a kettle, + And hast a tougher skin, + There's nought to keep thee in.' + 'I'll be thy body-guard,' + Replied the iron pot; + 'If anything that's hard + Should threaten thee a jot, + Between you I will go, + And save thee from the blow.' + This offer him persuaded. + The iron pot paraded + Himself as guard and guide + Close at his cousin's side. + Now, in their tripod way, + They hobble as they may; + And eke together bolt + At every little jolt,-- + Which gives the crockery pain; + But presently his comrade hits + So hard, he dashes him to bits, + Before he can complain. + + Take care that you associate + With equals only, lest your fate + Between these pots should find its mate. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V4">4</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5III">III</a>.--THE LITTLE FISH AND THE FISHER.[<a href="#V5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A little fish will grow, + If life be spared, a great; + But yet to let him go, + And for his growing wait, + May not be very wise, + As 'tis not sure your bait + Will catch him when of size. + Upon a river bank, a fisher took + A tiny troutling from his hook. + Said he, ''Twill serve to count, at least, + As the beginning of my feast; + And so I'll put it with the rest.' + This little fish, thus caught, + His clemency besought. + 'What will your honour do with me? + I'm not a mouthful, as you see. + Pray let me grow to be a trout, + And then come here and fish me out. + Some alderman, who likes things nice, + Will buy me then at any price. + But now, a hundred such you'll have to fish, + To make a single good-for-nothing dish.' + 'Well, well, be it so,' replied the fisher, + 'My little fish, who play the preacher, + The frying-pan must be your lot, + Although, no doubt, you like it not: + I fry the fry that can be got.' + + In some things, men of sense + Prefer the present to the future tense. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V5">5</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5IV">IV</a>.--THE EARS OF THE HARE.[<a href="#V6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Some beast with horns did gore + The lion; and that sovereign dread, + Resolved to suffer so no more, + Straight banish'd from his realm, 'tis said, + All sorts of beasts with horns-- + Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns. + Such brutes all promptly fled. + A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving, + Could hardly help believing + That some vile spy for horns would take them, + And food for accusation make them. + 'Adieu,' said he, 'my neighbour cricket; + I take my foreign ticket. + My ears, should I stay here, + Will turn to horns, I fear; + And were they shorter than a bird's, + I fear the effect of words.' + 'These horns!' the cricket answer'd; 'why, + God made them ears who can deny?' + 'Yes,' said the coward, 'still they'll make them horns, + And horns, perhaps of unicorns! + In vain shall I protest, + With all the learning of the schools: + My reasons they will send to rest + In th' Hospital of Fools.'[<a href="#V7">7</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V6">6</a>] Faerno.<br> +[<a name="V7">7</a>] <i>Hospital of Fools</i>, i.e., madhouse.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5V">V</a>.--THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF.[<a href="#V8">8</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, + Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, + Whom none of his sort had caught in a nap, + Was finally caught in somebody's trap. + By luck he escaped, not wholly and hale, + For the price of his luck was the loss of his tail. + Escaped in this way, to save his disgrace, + He thought to get others in similar case. + One day that the foxes in council were met, + 'Why wear we,' said he, 'this cumbering weight, + Which sweeps in the dirt wherever it goes? + Pray tell me its use, if any one knows. + If the council will take my advice, + We shall dock off our tails in a trice.' + 'Your advice may be good,' said one on the ground; + 'But, ere I reply, pray turn yourself round.' + Whereat such a shout from the council was heard, + Poor bob-tail, confounded, could say not a word. + To urge the reform would have wasted his breath. + Long tails were the mode till the day of his death. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V8">8</a>] Aesop; Faerno.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5VI">VI</a>.--THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO SERVANTS.[<a href="#V9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A beldam kept two spinning maids, + Who plied so handily their trades, + Those spinning sisters down below + Were bunglers when compared with these. + No care did this old woman know + But giving tasks as she might please. + No sooner did the god of day + His glorious locks enkindle, + Than both the wheels began to play, + And from each whirling spindle + Forth danced the thread right merrily, + And back was coil'd unceasingly. + Soon as the dawn, I say, its tresses show'd, + A graceless cock most punctual crow'd. + The beldam roused, more graceless yet, + In greasy petticoat bedight, + Struck up her farthing light, + And then forthwith the bed beset, + Where deeply, blessedly did snore + Those two maid-servants tired and poor. + One oped an eye, an arm one stretch'd, + And both their breath most sadly fetch'd, + This threat concealing in the sigh-- + 'That cursed cock shall surely die!' + And so he did:--they cut his throat, + And put to sleep his rousing note. + And yet this murder mended not + The cruel hardship of their lot; + For now the twain were scarce in bed + Before they heard the summons dread. + The beldam, full of apprehension + Lest oversleep should cause detention, + Ran like a goblin through her mansion. + Thus often, when one thinks + To clear himself from ill, + His effort only sinks + Him in the deeper still. + The beldam, acting for the cock, + Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V9">9</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5VII">VII</a>.--THE SATYR AND THE TRAVELLER.[<a href="#V10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Within a savage forest grot + A satyr and his chips + Were taking down their porridge hot; + Their cups were at their lips. + + You might have seen in mossy den, + Himself, his wife, and brood; + They had not tailor-clothes, like men, + But appetites as good. + + In came a traveller, benighted, + All hungry, cold, and wet, + Who heard himself to eat invited + With nothing like regret. + + He did not give his host the pain + His asking to repeat; + But first he blew with might and main + To give his fingers heat. + + Then in his steaming porridge dish + He delicately blew. + The wondering satyr said, 'I wish + The use of both I knew.' + + 'Why, first, my blowing warms my hand, + And then it cools my porridge.' + 'Ah!' said his host, 'then understand + I cannot give you storage. + 'To sleep beneath one roof with you, + I may not be so bold. + Far be from me that mouth untrue + Which blows both hot and cold.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V10">10</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5VIII">VIII</a>.--THE HORSE AND THE WOLF.[<a href="#V11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A wolf, what time the thawing breeze + Renews the life of plants and trees, + And beasts go forth from winter lair + To seek abroad their various fare,-- + A wolf, I say, about those days, + In sharp look-out for means and ways, + Espied a horse turn'd out to graze. + His joy the reader may opine. + 'Once got,' said he, 'this game were fine; + But if a sheep, 'twere sooner mine. + I can't proceed my usual way; + Some trick must now be put in play.' + This said, + He came with measured tread, + As if a healer of disease,-- + Some pupil of Hippocrates,-- + And told the horse, with learned verbs, + He knew the power of roots and herbs,-- + Whatever grew about those borders,-- + And not at all to flatter + Himself in such a matter, + Could cure of all disorders. + If he, Sir Horse, would not conceal + The symptoms of his case, + He, Doctor Wolf, would gratis heal; + For that to feed in such a place, + And run about untied, + Was proof itself of some disease, + As all the books decide. + 'I have, good doctor, if you please,' + Replied the horse, 'as I presume, + Beneath my foot, an aposthume.' + 'My son,' replied the learned leech, + 'That part, as all our authors teach, + Is strikingly susceptible + Of ills which make acceptable + What you may also have from me-- + The aid of skilful surgery; + Which noble art, the fact is, + For horses of the blood I practise.' + The fellow, with this talk sublime, + Watch'd for a snap the fitting time. + Meanwhile, suspicious of some trick, + The wary patient nearer draws, + And gives his doctor such a kick, + As makes a chowder of his jaws. + Exclaim'd the wolf, in sorry plight, + 'I own those heels have served me right. + I err'd to quit my trade, + As I will not in future; + Me nature surely made + For nothing but a butcher.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V11">11</a>] Aesop; also in Faerno.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5IX">IX</a>.--THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS.[<a href="#V12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The farmer's patient care and toil + Are oftener wanting than the soil. + + A wealthy ploughman drawing near his end, + Call'd in his sons apart from every friend, + And said, 'When of your sire bereft, + The heritage our fathers left + Guard well, nor sell a single field. + A treasure in it is conceal'd: + The place, precisely, I don't know, + But industry will serve to show. + The harvest past, Time's forelock take, + And search with plough, and spade, and rake; + Turn over every inch of sod, + Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod.' + The father died. The sons--and not in vain-- + Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; + That year their acres bore + More grain than e'er before. + Though hidden money found they none, + Yet had their father wisely done, + To show by such a measure, + That toil itself is treasure. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V12">12</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5X">X</a>.--THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR.[<a href="#V13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A mountain was in travail pang; + The country with her clamour rang. + Out ran the people all, to see, + Supposing that the birth would be + A city, or at least a house. + It was a mouse! + + In thinking of this fable, + Of story feign'd and false, + But meaning veritable, + My mind the image calls + Of one who writes, "The war I sing + Which Titans waged against the Thunder-king."[<a href="#V14">14</a>] + As on the sounding verses ring, + What will be brought to birth? + Why, dearth. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V13">13</a>] Phaedrus, IV. 22.<br> +[<a name="V14">14</a>] <i>The War, &c.</i>--The war of the Gods and Titans (sons of + Heaven and Earth); <i>vide</i> Hesiod, <i>Theogony</i>, I. 1083, + Bohn's ed.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XI">XI</a>.--FORTUNE AND THE BOY.[<a href="#V15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Beside a well, uncurb'd and deep, + A schoolboy laid him down to sleep: + (Such rogues can do so anywhere.) + If some kind man had seen him there, + He would have leap'd as if distracted; + But Fortune much more wisely acted; + For, passing by, she softly waked the child, + Thus whispering in accents mild: + 'I save your life, my little dear, + And beg you not to venture here + Again, for had you fallen in, + I should have had to bear the sin; + But I demand, in reason's name, + If for your rashness I'm to blame?' + With this the goddess went her way. + I like her logic, I must say. + There takes place nothing on this planet, + But Fortune ends, whoe'er began it. + In all adventures good or ill, + We look to her to foot the bill. + Has one a stupid, empty pate, + That serves him never till too late, + He clears himself by blaming Fate! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V15">15</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XII">XII</a>.--THE DOCTORS.[<a href="#V16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The selfsame patient put to test + Two doctors, Fear-the-worst and Hope-the-best. + The latter hoped; the former did maintain + The man would take all medicine in vain. + By different cures the patient was beset, + But erelong cancell'd nature's debt, + While nursed + As was prescribed by Fear-the-worst. + But over the disease both triumph'd still. + Said one, 'I well foresaw his death.' + 'Yes,' said the other, 'but my pill + Would certainly have saved his breath.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V16">16</a>] Aesop, and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XIII">XIII</a>.--THE HEN WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS.[<a href="#V17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + How avarice loseth all, + By striving all to gain, + I need no witness call + But him whose thrifty hen, + As by the fable we are told, + Laid every day an egg of gold. + 'She hath a treasure in her body,' + Bethinks the avaricious noddy. + He kills and opens--vexed to find + All things like hens of common kind. + Thus spoil'd the source of all his riches, + To misers he a lesson teaches. + In these last changes of the moon, + How often doth one see + Men made as poor as he + By force of getting rich too soon! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V17">17</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XIV">XIV</a>.--THE ASS CARRYING RELICS.[<a href="#V18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + An ass, with relics for his load, + Supposed the worship on the road + Meant for himself alone, + And took on lofty airs, + Receiving as his own + The incense and the prayers. + Some one, who saw his great mistake, + Cried, 'Master Donkey, do not make + Yourself so big a fool. + Not you they worship, but your pack; + They praise the idols on your back, + And count yourself a paltry tool.' + + 'Tis thus a brainless magistrate + Is honour'd for his robe of state. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V18">18</a>] Aesop; also Faerno.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XV">XV</a>.--THE STAG AND THE VINE.[<a href="#V19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A stag, by favour of a vine, + Which grew where suns most genial shine, + And form'd a thick and matted bower + Which might have turn'd a summer shower, + Was saved from ruinous assault. + The hunters thought their dogs at fault, + And call'd them off. In danger now no more + The stag, a thankless wretch and vile, + Began to browse his benefactress o'er. + The hunters, listening the while, + The rustling heard, came back, + With all their yelping pack, + And seized him in that very place. + 'This is,' said he, 'but justice, in my case. + Let every black ingrate + Henceforward profit by my fate.' + The dogs fell to--'twere wasting breath + To pray those hunters at the death. + They left, and we will not revile 'em, + A warning for profaners of asylum. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V19">19</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XVI">XVI</a>.--THE SERPENT AND THE FILE.[<a href="#V20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A serpent, neighbour to a smith, + (A neighbour bad to meddle with,) + Went through his shop, in search of food, + But nothing found, 'tis understood, + To eat, except a file of steel, + Of which he tried to make a meal. + The file, without a spark of passion, + Address'd him in the following fashion:-- + 'Poor simpleton! you surely bite + With less of sense than appetite; + For ere from me you gain + One quarter of a grain, + You'll break your teeth from ear to ear. + Time's are the only teeth I fear.' + + This tale concerns those men of letters, + Who, good for nothing, bite their betters. + Their biting so is quite unwise. + Think you, ye literary sharks, + Your teeth will leave their marks + Upon the deathless works you criticise? + Fie! fie! fie! men! + To you they're brass--they're steel--they're diamond! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V20">20</a>] Phaedrus, Book IV. 8; also Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XVII">XVII</a>.--THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE.</h4> +<pre> + Beware how you deride + The exiles from life's sunny side: + To you is little known + How soon their case may be your own. + On this, sage Aesop gives a tale or two, + As in my verses I propose to do. + A field in common share + A partridge and a hare, + And live in peaceful state, + Till, woeful to relate! + The hunters' mingled cry + Compels the hare to fly. + He hurries to his fort, + And spoils almost the sport + By faulting every hound + That yelps upon the ground. + At last his reeking heat + Betrays his snug retreat. + Old Tray, with philosophic nose, + Snuffs carefully, and grows + So certain, that he cries, + 'The hare is here; bow wow!' + And veteran Ranger now,-- + The dog that never lies,-- + 'The hare is gone,' replies. + Alas! poor, wretched hare, + Back comes he to his lair, + To meet destruction there! + The partridge, void of fear, + Begins her friend to jeer:-- + 'You bragg'd of being fleet; + How serve you, now, your feet?' + Scarce has she ceased to speak,-- + The laugh yet in her beak,-- + When comes her turn to die, + From which she could not fly. + She thought her wings, indeed, + Enough for every need; + But in her laugh and talk, + Forgot the cruel hawk! +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.[<a href="#V21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease + Their war, embraced in pledge of peace. + On faith of king, on faith of owl, they swore + That they would eat each other's chicks no more. + 'But know you mine?' said Wisdom's bird.[<a href="#V22">22</a>] + 'Not I, indeed,' the eagle cried. + 'The worse for that,' the owl replied: + 'I fear your oath's a useless word; + I fear that you, as king, will not + Consider duly who or what: + You kings and gods, of what's before ye, + Are apt to make one category. + Adieu, my young, if you should meet them!' + 'Describe them, then, or let me greet them, + And, on my life, I will not eat them,' + The eagle said. The owl replied: + 'My little ones, I say with pride, + For grace of form cannot be match'd,-- + The prettiest birds that e'er were hatch'd; + By this you cannot fail to know them; + 'Tis needless, therefore, that I show them. + Pray don't forget, but keep this mark in view, + Lest fate should curse my happy nest by you.' + At length God gives the owl a set of heirs, + And while at early eve abroad he fares, + In quest of birds and mice for food, + Our eagle haply spies the brood, + As on some craggy rock they sprawl, + Or nestle in some ruined wall, + (But which it matters not at all,) + And thinks them ugly little frights, + Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. + 'These chicks,' says he, 'with looks almost infernal, + Can't be the darlings of our friend nocturnal. + I'll sup of them.' And so he did, not slightly:-- + He never sups, if he can help it, lightly. + The owl return'd; and, sad, he found + Nought left but claws upon the ground. + He pray'd the gods above and gods below + To smite the brigand who had caused his woe. + Quoth one, 'On you alone the blame must fall; + Or rather on the law of nature, + Which wills that every earthly creature + Shall think its like the loveliest of all. + You told the eagle of your young ones' graces; + You gave the picture of their faces:-- + Had it of likeness any traces?' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V21">21</a>] Avianus; also Verdizotti.<br> +[<a name="V22">22</a>] <i>Wisdom's bird</i>.--The owl was the bird of Minerva, as the eagle + was that of Jupiter.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XIX">XIX</a>.--THE LION GOING TO WAR.[<a href="#V23">23</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The lion had an enterprise in hand; + Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal, + And gave the animals a call impartial-- + Each, in his way, to serve his high command. + The elephant should carry on his back + The tools of war, the mighty public pack, + And fight in elephantine way and form; + The bear should hold himself prepared to storm; + The fox all secret stratagems should fix; + The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks. + 'Dismiss,' said one, 'the blockhead asses, + And hares, too cowardly and fleet.' + 'No,' said the king; 'I use all classes; + Without their aid my force were incomplete. + The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare + Our enemy. And then the nimble hare + Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear.' + + A monarch provident and wise + Will hold his subjects all of consequence, + And know in each what talent lies. + There's nothing useless to a man of sense. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V23">23</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XX">XX</a>.--THE BEAR AND THE TWO COMPANIONS.[<a href="#V24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two fellows, needing funds, and bold, + A bearskin to a furrier sold, + Of which the bear was living still, + But which they presently would kill-- + At least they said they would. + And, if their word was good, + It was a king of bears--an Ursa Major-- + The biggest bear beneath the sun. + Its skin, the chaps would wager, + Was cheap at double cost; + 'Twould make one laugh at frost-- + And make two robes as well as one. + Old Dindenaut,[<a href="#V25">25</a>] in sheep who dealt, + Less prized his sheep, than they their pelt-- + (In their account 'twas theirs, + But in his own, the bears.) + By bargain struck upon the skin, + Two days at most must bring it in. + Forth went the two. More easy found than got, + The bear came growling at them on the trot. + Behold our dealers both confounded, + As if by thunderbolt astounded! + Their bargain vanish'd suddenly in air; + For who could plead his interest with a bear? + One of the friends sprung up a tree; + The other, cold as ice could be, + Fell on his face, feign'd death, + And closely held his breath,-- + He having somewhere heard it said + The bear ne'er preys upon the dead. + Sir Bear, sad blockhead, was deceived-- + The prostrate man a corpse believed; + But, half suspecting some deceit, + He feels and snuffs from head to feet, + And in the nostrils blows. + The body's surely dead, he thinks. + 'I'll leave it,' says he, 'for it stinks;' + And off into the woods he goes. + The other dealer, from his tree + Descending cautiously, to see + His comrade lying in the dirt, + Consoling, says, 'It is a wonder + That, by the monster forced asunder, + We're, after all, more scared than hurt. + But,' addeth he, 'what of the creature's skin? + He held his muzzle very near; + What did he whisper in your ear?' + 'He gave this caution,--"Never dare + Again to sell the skin of bear + Its owner has not ceased to wear."'[<a href="#V26">26</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V24">24</a>] Versions will be found in Aesop, Avianus, and Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="V25">25</a>] <i>Old Dindenaut</i>.--<i>Vide</i> Rabelais, <i>Pantagruel</i>, Book IV. + chap. viii.--Translator. + The character in Rabelais is a sheep-stealer as well as a + sheep-dealer.<br> +[<a name="V26">26</a>] According to Philip de Commines, the Emperor Frederic III. of + Germany used a story conveying the substance of this fable, with its + moral of <i>Never sell your bear-skin till the beast is dead</i>, as + his sole reply to the ambassadors of the French king when that + monarch sent him proposals for dividing between them the provinces + of the Duke of Burgundy. The meaning of which was, says de Commines, + "That if the King came according to his promise, they would take the + Duke, if they could; and when he was taken, they would talk of + dividing his dominions."-- + <i>Vide</i> Bohn's edition of the "Memoirs of De Commines," vol. i., + p. 246.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="5XXI">XXI</a>.--THE ASS DRESSED IN THE LION'S SKIN.[<a href="#V27">27</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Clad in a lion's shaggy hide, + An ass spread terror far and wide, + And, though himself a coward brute, + Put all the world to scampering rout: + But, by a piece of evil luck, + A portion of an ear outstuck, + Which soon reveal'd the error + Of all the panic-terror. + Old Martin did his office quick. + Surprised were all who did not know the trick, + To see that Martin,[<a href="#V28">28</a>] at his will, + Was driving lions to the mill! + + In France, the men are not a few + Of whom this fable proves too true; + Whose valour chiefly doth reside + In coat they wear and horse they ride. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="V27">27</a>] Aesop, and Avianus.<br> +[<a name="V28">28</a>] <i>Martin</i>.--Martin-bâton, again as in <a href="#4V">Fable V., Book IV</a>.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> +<h3><a name="VI">BOOK</a> VI.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="6I">I</a>.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION.[<a href="#VI1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Of fables judge not by their face; + They give the simplest brute a teacher's place. + Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; + The story gives them life and wings. + But story for the story's sake + Were sorry business for the wise; + As if, for pill that one should take, + You gave the sugary disguise. + For reasons such as these, + Full many writers great and good + Have written in this frolic mood, + And made their wisdom please. + But tinsel'd style they all have shunn'd with care; + With them one never sees a word to spare. + Of Phaedrus some have blamed the brevity, + While Aesop uses fewer words than he. + A certain Greek,[<a href="#VI2">2</a>] however, beats + Them both in his larconic feats. + Each tale he locks in verses four; + The well or ill I leave to critic lore. + At Aesop's side to see him let us aim, + Upon a theme substantially the same. + The one selects a lover of the chase; + A shepherd comes, the other's tale to grace. + Their tracks I keep, though either tale may grow + A little in its features as I go. + + The one which Aesop tells is nearly this:-- + A shepherd from his flock began to miss, + And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep. + Before a cavern, dark and deep, + Where wolves retired by day to sleep, + Which he suspected as the thieves, + He set his trap among the leaves; + And, ere he left the place, + He thus invoked celestial grace:-- + 'O king of all the powers divine, + Against the rogue but grant me this delight, + That this my trap may catch him in my sight, + And I, from twenty calves of mine, + Will make the fattest thine.' + But while the words were on his tongue, + Forth came a lion great and strong. + Down crouch'd the man of sheep, and said, + With shivering fright half dead, + 'Alas! that man should never be aware + Of what may be the meaning of his prayer! + To catch the robber of my flocks, + O king of gods, I pledged a calf to thee: + If from his clutches thou wilt rescue me, + I'll raise my offering to an ox.' + + 'Tis thus the master-author[<a href="#VI3">3</a>] tells the story: + Now hear the rival of his glory. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI1">1</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="VI2">2</a>] <i>A certain Greek</i>.--Gabrias.--La Fontaine. This is Babrias, the + Greek fabulist, to whom La Fontaine gives the older form of his name. + La Fontaine's strictures on this "rival" of Aesop proceed from the + fact that he read the author in the corrupted form of the edition by + Ignatius Magister (ninth century). It was not till a century after La + Fontaine wrote, that the fame of Babrias was cleared by Bentley and + Tyrwhitt, who brought his Fables to light in their original form.<br> +[<a name="VI3">3</a>] <i>Master-author, &c.</i>--The "master-author" is Aesop; the rival, + Gabrias, or Babrias. The last line refers the reader to the following + fable for comparison. In the original editions of La Fontaine, the + two fables appear together with the heading "Fables I. et II."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6II">II</a>.--THE LION AND THE HUNTER.[<a href="#VI4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A braggart, lover of the chase, + Had lost a dog of valued race, + And thought him in a lion's maw. + He ask'd a shepherd whom he saw, + 'Pray show me, man, the robber's place, + And I'll have justice in the case.' + ''Tis on this mountain side,' + The shepherd man replied. + 'The tribute of a sheep I pay, + Each month, and where I please I stray.' + Out leap'd the lion as he spake, + And came that way, with agile feet. + The braggart, prompt his flight to take, + Cried, 'Jove, O grant a safe retreat!' + + A danger close at hand + Of courage is the test. + It shows us who will stand-- + Whose legs will run their best. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI4">4</a>] Gabrias, or Babrias; and Aesop. See <a href="#VI3">note to preceding fable</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6III">III</a>.--PHOEBUS AND BOREAS.[<a href="#VI5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Old Boreas and the sun, one day + Espied a traveller on his way, + Whose dress did happily provide + Against whatever might betide. + The time was autumn, when, indeed, + All prudent travellers take heed. + The rains that then the sunshine dash, + And Iris with her splendid sash, + Warn one who does not like to soak + To wear abroad a good thick cloak. + Our man was therefore well bedight + With double mantle, strong and tight. + 'This fellow,' said the wind, 'has meant + To guard from every ill event; + But little does he wot that I + Can blow him such a blast + That, not a button fast, + His cloak shall cleave the sky. + Come, here's a pleasant game, Sir Sun! + Wilt play?' Said Phoebus, 'Done! + We'll bet between us here + Which first will take the gear + From off this cavalier. + Begin, and shut away. + The brightness of my ray.' + 'Enough.' Our blower, on the bet, + Swell'd out his pursy form + With all the stuff for storm-- + The thunder, hail, and drenching wet, + And all the fury he could muster; + Then, with a very demon's bluster, + He whistled, whirl'd, and splash'd, + And down the torrents dash'd, + Full many a roof uptearing + He never did before, + Full many a vessel bearing + To wreck upon the shore,-- + And all to doff a single cloak. + But vain the furious stroke; + The traveller was stout, + And kept the tempest out, + Defied the hurricane, + Defied the pelting rain; + And as the fiercer roar'd the blast, + His cloak the tighter held he fast. + The sun broke out, to win the bet; + He caused the clouds to disappear, + Refresh'd and warm'd the cavalier, + And through his mantle made him sweat, + Till off it came, of course, + In less than half an hour; + And yet the sun saved half his power.-- + So much doth mildness more than force. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI5">5</a>] Aesop and Lokman; also P. Hegemon.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6IV">IV</a>.--JUPITER AND THE FARMER.[<a href="#VI6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Of yore, a farm had Jupiter to rent; + To advertise it, Mercury was sent. + The farmers, far and near, + Flock'd round, the terms to hear; + And, calling to their aid + The various tricks of trade, + One said 'twas rash a farm to hire + Which would so much expense require; + Another, that, do what you would, + The farm would still be far from good. + While thus, in market style, its faults were told, + One of the crowd, less wise than bold, + Would give so much, on this condition, + That Jove would yield him altogether + The choice and making of his weather,-- + That, instantly on his decision, + His various crops should feel the power + Of heat or cold, of sun or shower. + + Jove yields. The bargain closed, our man + Rains, blows, and takes the care + Of all the changes of the air, + On his peculiar, private plan. + His nearest neighbours felt it not, + And all the better was their lot. + Their year was good, by grace divine; + The grain was rich, and full the vine. + The renter, failing altogether, + The next year made quite different weather; + And yet the fruit of all his labours + Was far inferior to his neighbours'. + What better could he do? To Heaven + He owns at last his want of sense, + And so is graciously forgiven. + Hence we conclude that Providence + Knows better what we need + Than we ourselves, indeed. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI6">6</a>] Aesop; and Faerno.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6V">V</a>.--THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.[<a href="#VI7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A youthful mouse, not up to trap, + Had almost met a sad mishap. + The story hear him thus relate, + With great importance, to his mother:-- + 'I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate, + And off was trotting on another, + Like some young rat with nought to do + But see things wonderful and new, + When two strange creatures came in view. + The one was mild, benign, and gracious; + The other, turbulent, rapacious, + With voice terrific, shrill, and rough, + And on his head a bit of stuff + That look'd like raw and bloody meat, + Raised up a sort of arms, and beat + The air, as if he meant to fly, + And bore his plumy tail on high.' + + A cock, that just began to crow, + As if some nondescript, + From far New Holland shipp'd, + Was what our mousling pictured so. + 'He beat his arms,' said he, 'and raised his voice, + And made so terrible a noise, + That I, who, thanks to Heaven, may justly boast + Myself as bold as any mouse, + Scud off, (his voice would even scare a ghost!) + And cursed himself and all his house; + For, but for him, I should have staid, + And doubtless an acquaintance made + With her who seem'd so mild and good. + Like us, in velvet cloak and hood, + She wears a tail that's full of grace, + A very sweet and humble face,-- + No mouse more kindness could desire,-- + And yet her eye is full of fire. + I do believe the lovely creature + A friend of rats and mice by nature. + Her ears, though, like herself, they're bigger, + Are just like ours in form and figure. + To her I was approaching, when, + Aloft on what appear'd his den, + The other scream'd,--and off I fled.' + 'My son,' his cautious mother said, + 'That sweet one was the cat, + The mortal foe of mouse and rat, + Who seeks by smooth deceit, + Her appetite to treat. + So far the other is from that, + We yet may eat + His dainty meat; + Whereas the cruel cat, + Whene'er she can, devours + No other meat than ours.' + + Remember while you live, + It is by looks that men deceive. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI7">7</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6VI">VI</a>.--THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE ANIMALS.[<a href="#VI8">8</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Left kingless by the lion's death, + The beasts once met, our story saith, + Some fit successor to install. + Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place, + The crown was brought, and, taken from its case, + And being tried by turns on all, + The heads of most were found too small; + Some hornèd were, and some too big; + Not one would fit the regal gear. + For ever ripe for such a rig, + The monkey, looking very queer, + Approach'd with antics and grimaces, + And, after scores of monkey faces, + With what would seem a gracious stoop, + Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop. + The beasts, diverted with the thing, + Did homage to him as their king. + The fox alone the vote regretted, + But yet in public never fretted. + When he his compliments had paid + To royalty, thus newly made, + 'Great sire, I know a place,' said he, + 'Where lies conceal'd a treasure, + Which, by the right of royalty, + Should bide your royal pleasure.' + The king lack'd not an appetite + For such financial pelf, + And, not to lose his royal right, + Ran straight to see it for himself. + It was a trap, and he was caught. + Said Renard, 'Would you have it thought, + You ape, that you can fill a throne, + And guard the rights of all, alone, + Not knowing how to guard your own?' + + The beasts all gather'd from the farce, + That stuff for kings is very scarce. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI8">8</a>] Aesop; also Faerno.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6VII">VII</a>.--THE MULE BOASTING OF HIS GENEALOGY.[<a href="#VI9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A prelate's mule of noble birth was proud, + And talk'd, incessantly and loud, + Of nothing but his dam, the mare, + Whose mighty deeds by him recounted were,-- + This had she done, and had been present there,-- + By which her son made out his claim + To notice on the scroll of Fame. + Too proud, when young, to bear a doctor's pill; + When old, he had to turn a mill. + As there they used his limbs to bind, + His sire, the ass, was brought to mind. + Misfortune, were its only use + The claims of folly to reduce, + And bring men down to sober reason, + Would be a blessing in its season. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI9">9</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6VIII">VIII</a>.--THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.[<a href="#VI10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + An old man, riding on his ass, + Had found a spot of thrifty grass, + And there turn'd loose his weary beast. + Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, + Flung up his heels, and caper'd round, + Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground, + And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd, + And many a clean spot made. + Arm'd men came on them as he fed: + 'Let's fly,' in haste the old man said. + 'And wherefore so?' the ass replied; + 'With heavier burdens will they ride?' + 'No,' said the man, already started. + 'Then,' cried the ass, as he departed, + 'I'll stay, and be--no matter whose; + Save you yourself, and leave me loose. + But let me tell you, ere you go, + (I speak plain French, you know,) + My master is my only foe.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI10">10</a>] Phaedras. I. 15.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6IX">IX</a>.--THE STAG SEEING HIMSELF IN THE WATER.[<a href="#VI11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Beside a placid, crystal flood, + A stag admired the branching wood + That high upon his forehead stood, + But gave his Maker little thanks + For what he call'd his spindle shanks. + 'What limbs are these for such a head!-- + So mean and slim!' with grief he said. + 'My glorious heads o'ertops + The branches of the copse; + My legs are my disgrace.' + As thus he talk'd, a bloodhound gave him chase. + To save his life he flew + Where forests thickest grew. + His horns,--pernicious ornament!-- + Arresting him where'er he went, + Did unavailing render + What else, in such a strife, + Had saved his precious life-- + His legs, as fleet as slender. + Obliged to yield, he cursed the gear + Which nature gave him every year. + + Too much the beautiful we prize; + The useful, often, we despise: + Yet oft, as happen'd to the stag, + The former doth to ruin drag. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI11">11</a>] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I.12.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6X">X</a>.--THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.[<a href="#VI12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + To win a race, the swiftness of a dart + Availeth not without a timely start. + The hare and tortoise are my witnesses. + Said tortoise to the swiftest thing that is, + 'I'll bet that you'll not reach, so soon as I + The tree on yonder hill we spy.' + 'So soon! Why, madam, are you frantic?' + Replied the creature, with an antic; + 'Pray take, your senses to restore, + A grain or two of hellebore.'[<a href="#VI13">13</a>] + 'Say,' said the tortoise, 'what you will; + I dare you to the wager still.' + 'Twas done; the stakes were paid, + And near the goal tree laid-- + Of what, is not a question for this place, + Nor who it was that judged the race. + Our hare had scarce five jumps to make, + Of such as he is wont to take, + When, starting just before their beaks + He leaves the hounds at leisure, + Thence till the kalends of the Greeks,[<a href="#VI14">14</a>] + The sterile heath to measure. + Thus having time to browse and doze, + And list which way the zephyr blows, + He makes himself content to wait, + And let the tortoise go her gait + In solemn, senatorial state. + She starts; she moils on, modestly and lowly, + And with a prudent wisdom hastens slowly; + But he, meanwhile, the victory despises, + Thinks lightly of such prizes, + Believes it for his honour + To take late start and gain upon her. + So, feeding, sitting at his ease, + He meditates of what you please, + Till his antagonist he sees + Approach the goal; then starts, + Away like lightning darts: + But vainly does he run; + The race is by the tortoise won. + Cries she, 'My senses do I lack? + What boots your boasted swiftness now? + You're beat! and yet, you must allow, + I bore my house upon my back.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI12">12</a>] Aesop; also Lokman.<br> +[<a name="VI13">13</a>] <i>Hellebore</i>.--The ancient remedy for insanity.<br> +[<a name="VI14">14</a>] <i>Kalends of the Greeks</i>.--The Greeks, unlike the Romans, had no + kalends in their computation of time, hence the frequent use of this + expression to convey the idea of an indefinite period of time.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XI">XI</a>.--THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS.[<a href="#VI15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny + Of being made to rise before the dawn. + 'The cocks their matins have not sung,' said he, + 'Ere I am up and gone. + And all for what? To market herbs, it seems. + Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!' + Fate, moved by such a prayer, + Sent him a currier's load to bear, + Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, + They almost choked the foolish beast. + 'I wish me with my former lord,' he said; + 'For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, + If on the watch, I caught + A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought. + But, in this horrid place, I find + No chance or windfall of the kind:-- + Or if, indeed, I do, + The cruel blows I rue.' + Anon it came to pass + He was a collier's ass. + Still more complaint. 'What now?' said Fate, + Quite out of patience. + 'If on this jackass I must wait, + What will become of kings and nations? + Has none but he aught here to tease him? + Have I no business but to please him?' + And Fate had cause;--for all are so. + Unsatisfied while here below + Our present lot is aye the worst. + Our foolish prayers the skies infest. + Were Jove to grant all we request, + The din renew'd, his head would burst. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI15">15</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XII">XII</a>.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[<a href="#VI16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Rejoicing on their tyrant's wedding-day, + The people drown'd their care in drink; + While from the general joy did Aesop shrink, + And show'd its folly in this way. + 'The sun,' said he, 'once took it in his head + To have a partner for his bed. + From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs, + Up rose the wailings of the frogs. + "What shall we do, should he have progeny?" + Said they to Destiny; + "One sun we scarcely can endure, + And half-a-dozen, we are sure, + Will dry the very sea. + Adieu to marsh and fen! + Our race will perish then, + Or be obliged to fix + Their dwelling in the Styx!" + For such an humble animal, + The frog, I take it, reason'd well.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI16">16</a>] There is another fable with this title, viz., <a href="#12XXIV">Fable XXIV., Book XII</a>. + This fable in its earlier form will be found in Phaedrus, I.6.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XIII">XIII</a>.--THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT.[<a href="#VI17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 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. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI17">17</a>] Aesop; also Phaedrus, IV.18.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XIV">XIV</a>.--THE SICK LION AND THE FOX.[<a href="#VI18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Sick in his den, we understand, + The king of beasts sent out command + That of his vassals every sort + Should send some deputies to court-- + With promise well to treat + Each deputy and suite; + On faith of lion, duly written, + None should be scratch'd, much less be bitten. + The royal will was executed, + And some from every tribe deputed; + The foxes, only, would not come. + One thus explain'd their choice of home:-- + 'Of those who seek the court, we learn, + The tracks upon the sand + Have one direction, and + Not one betokens a return. + This fact begetting some distrust, + His majesty at present must + Excuse us from his great levee. + His plighted word is good, no doubt; + But while how beasts get in we see, + We do not see how they get out.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI18">18</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XV">XV</a>.--THE FOWLER, THE HAWK, AND THE LARK.[<a href="#VI19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + From wrongs of wicked men we draw + Excuses for our own:-- + Such is the universal law. + Would you have mercy shown, + Let yours be clearly known. + + A fowler's mirror served to snare + The little tenants of the air. + A lark there saw her pretty face, + And was approaching to the place. + A hawk, that sailed on high + Like vapour in the sky, + Came down, as still as infant's breath, + On her who sang so near her death. + She thus escaped the fowler's steel, + The hawk's malignant claws to feel. + While in his cruel way, + The pirate pluck'd his prey, + Upon himself the net was sprung. + 'O fowler,' pray'd he in the hawkish tongue, + 'Release me in thy clemency! + I never did a wrong to thee.' + The man replied, ''Tis true; + And did the lark to you?' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI19">19</a>] Abstemius, 3.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XVI">XVI</a>.--THE HORSE AND THE ASS.[<a href="#VI20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + In such a world, all men, of every grade, + Should each the other kindly aid; + For, if beneath misfortune's goad + A neighbour falls, on you will fall his load. + + There jogg'd in company an ass and horse; + Nought but his harness did the last endorse; + The other bore a load that crush'd him down, + And begg'd the horse a little help to give, + Or otherwise he could not reach the town. + 'This prayer,' said he, 'is civil, I believe; + One half this burden you would scarcely feel.' + The horse refused, flung up a scornful heel, + And saw his comrade die beneath the weight:-- + And saw his wrong too late; + For on his own proud back + They put the ass's pack, + And over that, beside, + They put the ass's hide. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI20">20</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XVII">XVII</a>.--THE DOG THAT DROPPED THE SUBSTANCE FOR THE SHADOW.[<a href="#VI21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + This world is full of shadow-chasers, + Most easily deceived. + Should I enumerate these racers, + I should not be believed. + I send them all to Aesop's dog, + Which, crossing water on a log, + Espied the meat he bore, below; + To seize its image, let it go; + Plunged in; to reach the shore was glad, + With neither what he hoped, nor what he'd had. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI21">21</a>] Aesop; also Phaedrus, I. 4.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE CARTER IN THE MIRE.[<a href="#VI22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The Phaëton who drove a load of hay + Once found his cart bemired. + Poor man! the spot was far away + From human help--retired, + In some rude country place, + In Brittany, as near as I can trace, + Near Quimper Corentan,-- + A town that poet never sang,-- + Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, + When she would rouse the man to special wrath. + May Heaven preserve us from that route! + But to our carter, hale and stout:-- + Fast stuck his cart; he swore his worst, + And, fill'd with rage extreme, + The mud-holes now he cursed, + And now he cursed his team, + And now his cart and load,-- + Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. + Upon the god he call'd at length, + Most famous through the world for strength. + 'O, help me, Hercules!' cried he; + 'For if thy back of yore + This burly planet bore, + Thy arm can set me free.' + This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke + A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke:-- + 'The suppliant must himself bestir, + Ere Hercules will aid confer. + Look wisely in the proper quarter, + To see what hindrance can be found; + Remove the execrable mud and mortar, + Which, axle-deep, beset thy wheels around. + Thy sledge and crowbar take, + And pry me up that stone, or break; + Now fill that rut upon the other side. + Hast done it?' 'Yes,' the man replied. + 'Well,' said the voice, 'I'll aid thee now; + Take up thy whip.' 'I have ... but, how? + My cart glides on with ease! + I thank thee, Hercules.' + 'Thy team,' rejoin'd the voice, 'has light ado; + So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI22">22</a>] Avianus; also Faerno; also Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 23, Bohn's + edition.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XIX">XIX</a>.--THE CHARLATAN.[<a href="#VI23">23</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The world has never lack'd its charlatans, + More than themselves have lack'd their plans. + One sees them on the stage at tricks + Which mock the claims of sullen Styx. + What talents in the streets they post! + One of them used to boast + Such mastership of eloquence + That he could make the greatest dunce + Another Tully Cicero + In all the arts that lawyers know. + 'Ay, sirs, a dunce, a country clown, + The greatest blockhead of your town,-- + Nay more, an animal, an ass,-- + The stupidest that nibbles grass,-- + Needs only through my course to pass, + And he shall wear the gown + With credit, honour, and renown.' + The prince heard of it, call'd the man, thus spake: + 'My stable holds a steed + Of the Arcadian breed,[<a href="#VI24">24</a>] + Of which an orator I wish to make.' + 'Well, sire, you can,' + Replied our man. + At once his majesty + Paid the tuition fee. + Ten years must roll, and then the learned ass + Should his examination pass, + According to the rules + Adopted in the schools; + If not, his teacher was to tread the air, + With halter'd neck, above the public square,-- + His rhetoric bound on his back, + And on his head the ears of jack. + A courtier told the rhetorician, + With bows and terms polite, + He would not miss the sight + Of that last pendent exhibition; + For that his grace and dignity + Would well become such high degree; + And, on the point of being hung, + He would bethink him of his tongue, + And show the glory of his art,-- + The power to melt the hardest heart,-- + And wage a war with time + By periods sublime-- + A pattern speech for orators thus leaving, + Whose work is vulgarly call'd thieving. + 'Ah!' was the charlatan's reply, + 'Ere that, the king, the ass, or I, + Shall, one or other of us, die.' + And reason good had he; + We count on life most foolishly, + Though hale and hearty we may be. + In each ten years, death cuts down one in three. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI23">23</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="VI24">24</a>] <i>Steed of the Arcadian breed</i>.--An ass, as in <a href="#8XVII">Fable XVII, Book + VIII</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XX">XX</a>.--DISCORD.</h4> +<pre> + The goddess Discord, having made, on high, + Among the gods a general grapple, + And thence a lawsuit, for an apple, + Was turn'd out, bag and baggage, from the sky. + The animal call'd man, with open arms, + Received the goddess of such naughty charms,-- + Herself and Whether-or-no, her brother, + With Thine-and-mine, her stingy mother. + In this, the lower universe, + Our hemisphere she chose to curse: + For reasons good she did not please + To visit our antipodes-- + Folks rude and savage like the beasts, + Who, wedding-free from forms and priests, + In simple tent or leafy bower, + Make little work for such a power. + That she might know exactly where + Her direful aid was in demand, + Renown flew courier through the land, + Reporting each dispute with care; + Then she, outrunning Peace, was quickly there; + And if she found a spark of ire, + Was sure to blow it to a fire. + At length, Renown got out of patience + At random hurrying o'er the nations, + And, not without good reason, thought + A goddess, like her mistress, ought + To have some fix'd and certain home, + To which her customers might come; + For now they often search'd in vain. + With due location, it was plain + She might accomplish vastly more, + And more in season than before. + To find, howe'er, the right facilities, + Was harder, then, than now it is; + For then there were no nunneries. + + So, Hymen's inn at last assign'd, + Thence lodged the goddess to her mind.[<a href="#VI25">25</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI25">25</a>] La Fontaine, gentle reader, does not mean to say that Discord lodges + with all married people, but that the foul fiend is never better + satisfied than when she can find such accommodation.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="6XXI">XXI</a>.--THE YOUNG WIDOW.[<a href="#VI26">26</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A husband's death brings always sighs; + The widow sobs, sheds tears--then dries. + Of Time the sadness borrows wings; + And Time returning pleasure brings. + Between the widow of a year + And of a day, the difference + Is so immense, + That very few who see her + Would think the laughing dame + And weeping one the same. + The one puts on repulsive action, + The other shows a strong attraction. + The one gives up to sighs, or true or false; + The same sad note is heard, whoever calls. + Her grief is inconsolable, + They say. Not so our fable, + Or, rather, not so says the truth. + + To other worlds a husband went + And left his wife in prime of youth. + Above his dying couch she bent, + And cried, 'My love, O wait for me! + My soul would gladly go with thee!' + (But yet it did not go.) + The fair one's sire, a prudent man, + Check'd not the current of her woe. + At last he kindly thus began:-- + 'My child, your grief should have its bound. + What boots it him beneath the ground + That you should drown your charms? + Live for the living, not the dead. + I don't propose that you be led + At once to Hymen's arms; + But give me leave, in proper time, + To rearrange the broken chime + With one who is as good, at least, + In all respects, as the deceased.' + 'Alas!' she sigh'd, 'the cloister vows + Befit me better than a spouse.' + The father left the matter there. + About one month thus mourn'd the fair; + Another month, her weeds arranged; + Each day some robe or lace she changed, + Till mourning dresses served to grace, + And took of ornament the place. + The frolic band of loves + Came flocking back like doves. + Jokes, laughter, and the dance, + The native growth of France, + Had finally their turn; + And thus, by night and morn, + She plunged, to tell the truth, + Deep in the fount of youth. + Her sire no longer fear'd + The dead so much endear'd; + But, as he never spoke, + Herself the silence broke:-- + 'Where is that youthful spouse,' said she, + 'Whom, sir, you lately promised me?' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI26">26</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4>EPILOGUE.</h4> +<pre> + Here check we our career: + Long books I greatly fear. + I would not quite exhaust my stuff; + The flower of subjects is enough. + To me, the time is come, it seems, + To draw my breath for other themes. + Love, tyrant of my life, commands + That other work be on my hands. + I dare not disobey. + Once more shall Psyche be my lay. + I'm call'd by Damon to portray + Her sorrows and her joys. + I yield: perhaps, while she employs, + My muse will catch a richer glow; + And well if this my labour'd strain + Shall be the last and only pain + Her spouse[<a href="#VI27">27</a>] shall cause me here below. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VI27">27</a>] <i>Her spouse</i>.--Cupid, the spouse of Psyche. The "other work on + my hands" mentioned in this Epilogue (the end of the poet's first + collection of Fables) was no doubt the writing of his "Psyche," + which was addressed to his patron the Duchess de Bouillon, and + published in 1659, the year following the publication of the first + six Books of the Fables. See also Translator's Preface.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="VII">BOOK</a> VII.[<a href="#VII1">1</a>]</h3> + +<br><hr><br> +<h4>To Madame De Montespan[<a href="#VII2">2</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The apologue[<a href="#VII3">3</a>] is from the immortal gods; + Or, if the gift of man it is, + Its author merits apotheosis. + Whoever magic genius lauds + Will do what in him lies + To raise this art's inventor to the skies. + It hath the potence of a charm, + On dulness lays a conquering arm, + Subjects the mind to its control, + And works its will upon the soul. + O lady, arm'd with equal power, + If e'er within celestial bower, + With messmate gods reclined, + My muse ambrosially hath dined, + Lend me the favour of a smile + On this her playful toil. + If you support, the tooth of time will shun, + And let my work the envious years outrun. + If authors would themselves survive, + To gain your suffrage they should strive. + On you my verses wait to get their worth; + To you my beauties all will owe their birth,-- + For beauties you will recognize + Invisible to other eyes. + Ah! who can boast a taste so true, + Of beauty or of grace, + In either thought or face? + For words and looks are equal charms in you. + Upon a theme so sweet, the truth to tell, + My muse would gladly dwell: + But this employ to others I must yield;-- + A greater master claims the field. + For me, fair lady, 'twere enough + Your name should be my wall and roof. + Protect henceforth the favour'd book + Through which for second life I look. + In your auspicious light, + These lines, in envy's spite, + Will gain the glorious meed, + That all the world shall read. + 'Tis not that I deserve such fame;-- + I only ask in Fable's name, + (You know what credit that should claim;) + And, if successfully I sue, + A fane will be to Fable due,-- + A thing I would not build--except for you. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII1">1</a>] Here commences the second collection of La Fontaine's Fables, + comprising Books VII. to XI. This collection was published in 1678-9, + ten years after the publication of the foregoing six Books. See + Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="VII2">2</a>] <i>Madame de Montespan</i>.--Francoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart de + Mortemart, Marquise de Montespan, born 1641, died 1707. She + became one of the mistresses of the "Grand Monarque," Louis XIV., in + 1668.<br> +[<a name="VII3">3</a>] <i>The apologue.</i>--Here, as in the opening fable of <a href="#V">Books V.</a> and + <a href="#VI">VI.</a>, and elsewhere, La Fontaine defines Fable and defends the art of + the Fabulist.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7I">I</a>.--THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.[<a href="#VII4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The sorest ill that Heaven hath + Sent on this lower world in wrath,-- + The plague (to call it by its name,) + One single day of which + Would Pluto's ferryman enrich,-- + Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. + They died not all, but all were sick: + No hunting now, by force or trick, + To save what might so soon expire. + No food excited their desire; + Nor wolf nor fox now watch'd to slay + The innocent and tender prey. + The turtles fled; + So love and therefore joy were dead. + The lion council held, and said: + 'My friends, I do believe + This awful scourge, for which we grieve, + Is for our sins a punishment + Most righteously by Heaven sent. + Let us our guiltiest beast resign, + A sacrifice to wrath divine. + Perhaps this offering, truly small, + May gain the life and health of all. + By history we find it noted + That lives have been just so devoted. + Then let us all turn eyes within, + And ferret out the hidden sin. + Himself let no one spare nor flatter, + But make clean conscience in the matter. + For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton + Too much and often upon mutton. + What harm had e'er my victims done? + I answer, truly, None. + Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, + I've eat the shepherd with the rest. + I yield myself, if need there be; + And yet I think, in equity, + Each should confess his sins with me; + For laws of right and justice cry, + The guiltiest alone should die.' + 'Sire,' said the fox, 'your majesty + Is humbler than a king should be, + And over-squeamish in the case. + What! eating stupid sheep a crime? + No, never, sire, at any time. + It rather was an act of grace, + A mark of honour to their race. + And as to shepherds, one may swear, + The fate your majesty describes, + Is recompense less full than fair + For such usurpers o'er our tribes.' + + Thus Renard glibly spoke, + And loud applause from flatterers broke. + Of neither tiger, boar, nor bear, + Did any keen inquirer dare + To ask for crimes of high degree; + The fighters, biters, scratchers, all + From every mortal sin were free; + The very dogs, both great and small, + Were saints, as far as dogs could be. + + The ass, confessing in his turn, + Thus spoke in tones of deep concern:-- + 'I happen'd through a mead to pass; + The monks, its owners, were at mass; + Keen hunger, leisure, tender grass, + And add to these the devil too, + All tempted me the deed to do. + I browsed the bigness of my tongue; + Since truth must out, I own it wrong.' + + On this, a hue and cry arose, + As if the beasts were all his foes: + A wolf, haranguing lawyer-wise, + Denounced the ass for sacrifice-- + The bald-pate, scabby, ragged lout, + By whom the plague had come, no doubt. + His fault was judged a hanging crime. + 'What? eat another's grass? O shame! + The noose of rope and death sublime,' + For that offence, were all too tame! + And soon poor Grizzle felt the same. + + Thus human courts acquit the strong, + And doom the weak, as therefore wrong. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII4">4</a>] One of the most original as well as one of the most beautiful of the + poet's fables, yet much of the groundwork of its story may be traced + in the Fables of Bidpaii and other collections. See also + <a href="#I28">note to Fable XXII., Book I</a>.<br> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7II">II</a>.--THE ILL-MARRIED.</h4> +<pre> + If worth, were not a thing more rare + Than beauty in this planet fair, + There would be then less need of care + About the contracts Hymen closes. + But beauty often is the bait + To love that only ends in hate; + And many hence repent too late + Of wedding thorns from wooing roses.[<a href="#VII5">5</a>] + My tale makes one of these poor fellows, + Who sought relief from marriage vows, + Send back again his tedious spouse, + Contentious, covetous, and jealous, + With nothing pleased or satisfied, + This restless, comfort-killing bride + Some fault in every one descried. + Her good man went to bed too soon, + Or lay in bed till almost noon. + Too cold, too hot,--too black, too white,-- + Were on her tongue from morn till night. + The servants mad and madder grew; + The husband knew not what to do. + 'Twas, 'Dear, you never think or care;' + And, 'Dear, that price we cannot bear;' + And, 'Dear, you never stay at home;' + And, 'Dear, I wish you would just come;' + Till, finally, such ceaseless dearing + Upon her husband's patience wearing, + Back to her sire's he sent his wife, + To taste the sweets of country life, + To dance at will the country jigs, + And feed the turkeys, geese, and pigs. + In course of time, he hoped his bride + Might have her temper mollified; + Which hope he duly put to test. + His wife recall'd, said he, + 'How went with you your rural rest, + From vexing cares and fashions free? + Its peace and quiet did you gain,-- + Its innocence without a stain?' + 'Enough of all,' said she; 'but then + To see those idle, worthless men + Neglect the flocks, it gave me pain. + I told them, plainly, what I thought, + And thus their hatred quickly bought; + For which I do not care--not I.' + 'Ah, madam,' did her spouse reply, + 'If still your temper's so morose, + And tongue so virulent, that those + Who only see you morn and night + Are quite grown weary of the sight, + What, then, must be your servants' case, + Who needs must see you face to face, + Throughout the day? + And what must be the harder lot + Of him, I pray, + Whose days and nights + With you must be by marriage rights? + Return you to your father's cot. + If I recall you in my life, + Or even wish for such a wife, + Let Heaven, in my hereafter, send + Two such, to tease me without end!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII5">5</a>] The badinage of La Fontaine having been misunderstood, the + translator has altered the introduction to this fable. The intention + of the fable is to recommend prudence and good nature, not celibacy. + So the peerless Granville understands it, for his pencil tells us + that the hero of the fable did finally recall his wife, + notwithstanding his fearful imprecation. It seems that even she was + better than none.--Translator; (in his sixth edition).</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7III">III</a>.--THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.</h4> +<pre> + The sage Levantines have a tale + About a rat that weary grew + Of all the cares which life assail, + And to a Holland cheese withdrew. + His solitude was there profound, + Extending through his world so round. + Our hermit lived on that within; + And soon his industry had been + With claws and teeth so good, + That in his novel hermitage, + He had in store, for wants of age, + Both house and livelihood. + What more could any rat desire? + He grew fair, fat, and round. + 'God's blessings thus redound + To those who in His vows retire.'[<a href="#VII6">6</a>] + One day this personage devout, + Whose kindness none might doubt, + Was ask'd, by certain delegates + That came from Rat-United-States, + For some small aid, for they + To foreign parts were on their way, + For succour in the great cat-war. + Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, + Their whole republic drain'd and poor, + No morsel in their scrips they bore. + Slight boon they craved, of succour sure + In days at utmost three or four. + 'My friends,' the hermit said, + 'To worldly things I'm dead. + How can a poor recluse + To such a mission be of use? + What can he do but pray + That God will aid it on its way? + And so, my friends, it is my prayer + That God will have you in his care.' + His well-fed saintship said no more, + But in their faces shut the door. + What think you, reader, is the service + For which I use this niggard rat? + To paint a monk? No, but a dervise. + A monk, I think, however fat, + Must be more bountiful than that. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII6">6</a>] <i>God's blessing, &c</i>.--So the rat himself professed to consider + the matter.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7IV">IV</a>.--THE HERON.[<a href="#VII7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + One day,--no matter when or where,-- + A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare + By a certain river's brink, + With his long, sharp beak + Helved on his slender neck; + 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. + The water was clear and still, + The carp and the pike there at will + Pursued their silent fun, + Turning up, ever and anon, + A golden side to the sun. + With ease might the heron have made + Great profits in his fishing trade. + So near came the scaly fry, + They might be caught by the passer-by. + But he thought he better might + Wait for a better appetite-- + For he lived by rule, and could not eat, + Except at his hours, the best of meat. + Anon his appetite return'd once more; + So, approaching again the shore, + He saw some tench taking their leaps, + Now and then, from their lowest deeps. + With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, + He turn'd away from such food as that. + 'What, tench for a heron! poh! + I scorn the thought, and let them go.' + The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; + 'For all that,' said the bird, 'I budge on. + I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, + For such mean little fishes as these.' + He did it for less; + For it came to pass, + That not another fish could he see; + And, at last, so hungry was he, + That he thought it of some avail + To find on the bank a single snail. + Such is the sure result + Of being too difficult. + Would you be strong and great, + Learn to accommodate. + Get what you can, and trust for the rest; + The whole is oft lost by seeking the best. + Above all things beware of disdain; + Where, at most, you have little to gain. + The people are many that make + Every day this sad mistake. + 'Tis not for the herons I put this case, + Ye featherless people, of human race. + --List to another tale as true, + And you'll hear the lesson brought home to you.[<a href="#VII8">8</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII7">7</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="VII8">8</a>] <i>The lesson brought home to you</i>. The two last lines refer the + reader to the next fable.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7V">V</a>.--THE MAID.[<a href="#VII9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A certain maid, as proud as fair, + A husband thought to find + Exactly to her mind-- + Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, + Not cold nor jealous;--mark this well. + Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle + Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit, + And all good qualities to fit-- + A man 'twere difficult to get. + Kind Fate, however, took great care + To grant, if possible, her prayer. + There came a-wooing men of note; + The maiden thought them all, + By half, too mean and small. + 'They marry me! the creatures dote:-- + Alas! poor souls! their case I pity.' + (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.) + Some were less delicate than witty; + Some had the nose too short or long; + In others something else was wrong; + Which made each in the maiden's eyes + An altogether worthless prize. + Profound contempt is aye the vice + Which springs from being over-nice, + Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then + Came offers from inferior men. + The maid, more scornful than before, + Took credit to her tender heart + For giving then an open door. + 'They think me much in haste to part + With independence! God be thank'd + My lonely nights bring no regret; + Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret, + Should I with ancient maids be rank'd.' + Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair: + Age made them only thoughts that were. + Adieu to lovers:--passing years + Awaken doubts and chilling fears. + Regret, at last, brings up the train. + Day after day she sees, with pain, + Some smile or charm take final flight, + And leave the features of a 'fright.' + Then came a hundred sorts of paint: + But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint, + Avail'd to hide the cause of grief, + Or bar out Time, that graceless thief. + A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, + May be repair'd and made a new one. + Alas! for ruins of the face + No such rebuilding e'er takes place. + Her daintiness now changed its tune; + Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon!' + So did a certain wish within, + With more of secrecy than sin,-- + A wish that dwells with even prudes, + Annihilating solitudes. + This maiden's choice was past belief, + She soothing down her restless grief, + And smoothing it of every ripple, + By marrying a cripple. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII9">9</a>] This fable should be read in conjunction with the foregoing one.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7VI">VI</a>.--THE WISHES.</h4> +<pre> + Within the Great Mogul's domains there are + Familiar sprites of much domestic use: + They sweep the house, and take a tidy care + Of equipage, nor garden work refuse; + But, if you meddle with their toil, + The whole, at once, you're sure to spoil. + One, near the mighty Ganges flood, + The garden of a burgher good + Work'd noiselessly and well; + To master, mistress, garden, bore + A love that time and toil outwore, + And bound him like a spell. + Did friendly zephyrs blow, + The demon's pains to aid? + (For so they do, 'tis said.) + I own I do not know. + But for himself he rested not, + And richly bless'd his master's lot. + What mark'd his strength of love, + He lived a fixture on the place, + In spite of tendency to rove + So natural to his race. + But brother sprites conspiring + With importunity untiring, + So teased their goblin chief, that he, + Of his caprice, or policy, + Our sprite commanded to attend + A house in Norway's farther end, + Whose roof was snow-clad through the year, + And shelter'd human kind with deer. + Before departing to his hosts + Thus spake this best of busy ghosts:-- + 'To foreign parts I'm forced to go! + For what sad fault I do not know;-- + But go I must; a month's delay, + Or week's perhaps, and I'm away. + Seize time; three wishes make at will; + For three I'm able to fulfil-- + No more.' Quick at their easy task, + Abundance first these wishers ask-- + Abundance, with her stores unlock'd-- + Barns, coffers, cellars, larder, stock'd-- + Corn, cattle, wine, and money,-- + The overflow of milk and honey. + But what to do with all this wealth! + What inventories, cares, and worry! + What wear of temper and of health! + Both lived in constant, slavish hurry. + Thieves took by plot, and lords by loan; + The king by tax, the poor by tone. + Thus felt the curses which + Arise from being rich,-- + 'Remove this affluence!' they pray; + The poor are happier than they + Whose riches make them slaves. + 'Go, treasures, to the winds and waves; + Come, goddess of the quiet breast, + Who sweet'nest toil with rest, + Dear Mediocrity, return!' + The prayer was granted as we learn. + Two wishes thus expended, + Had simply ended + In bringing them exactly where, + When they set out they were. + So, usually, it fares + With those who waste in such vain prayers + The time required by their affairs. + The goblin laugh'd, and so did they. + However, ere he went away, + To profit by his offer kind, + They ask'd for wisdom, wealth of mind,-- + A treasure void of care and sorrow-- + A treasure fearless of the morrow, + Let who will steal, or beg, or borrow. +</pre> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7VII">VII</a>.--THE LION'S COURT.[<a href="#VII10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + His lion majesty would know, one day, + What bestial tribes were subject to his sway. + He therefore gave his vassals all, + By deputies a call, + Despatching everywhere + A written circular, + Which bore his seal, and did import + His majesty would hold his court + A month most splendidly;-- + A feast would open his levee, + Which done, Sir Jocko's sleight + Would give the court delight. + By such sublime magnificence + The king would show his power immense. + + Now were they gather'd all + Within the royal hall.-- + And such a hall! The charnel scent + Would make the strongest nerves relent. + The bear put up his paw to close + The double access of his nose. + The act had better been omitted; + His throne at once the monarch quitted, + And sent to Pluto's court the bear, + To show his delicacy there. + The ape approved the cruel deed, + A thorough flatterer by breed. + He praised the prince's wrath and claws, + He praised the odour and its cause. + Judged by the fragrance of that cave, + The amber of the Baltic wave, + The rose, the pink, the hawthorn bank, + Might with the vulgar garlic rank. + The mark his flattery overshot, + And made him share poor Bruin's lot; + This lion playing in his way, + The part of Don Caligula. + The fox approach'd. 'Now,' said the king, + 'Apply your nostrils to this thing, + And let me hear, without disguise, + The judgment of a beast so wise.' + The fox replied, 'Your Majesty will please + Excuse'--and here he took good care to sneeze;-- + 'Afflicted with a dreadful cold, + Your majesty need not be told: + My sense of smell is mostly gone.' + + From danger thus withdrawn, + He teaches us the while, + That one, to gain the smile + Of kings, must hold the middle place + 'Twixt blunt rebuke and fulsome praise; + And sometimes use with easy grace, + The language of the Norman race.[<a href="#VII11">11</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII10">10</a>] Phaedrus. IV. 13.<br> +[<a name="VII11">11</a>] The Normans are proverbial among the French for the oracular + noncommittal of their responses.--<i>Un Normand</i>, says the + proverb, <i>a son dit et son détit.</i>--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7VIII">VIII</a>.--THE VULTURES AND THE PIGEONS.[<a href="#VII12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Mars once made havoc in the air: + Some cause aroused a quarrel there + Among the birds;--not those that sing, + The courtiers of the merry Spring, + And by their talk, in leafy bowers, + Of loves they feel, enkindle ours; + Nor those which Cupid's mother yokes + To whirl on high her golden spokes; + But naughty hawk and vulture folks, + Of hooked beak and talons keen. + The carcass of a dog, 'tis said, + Had to this civil carnage led. + Blood rain'd upon the swarded green, + And valiant deeds were done, I ween. + But time and breath would surely fail + To give the fight in full detail; + Suffice to say, that chiefs were slain, + And heroes strow'd the sanguine plain, + Till old Prometheus, in his chains, + Began to hope an end of pains. + 'Twas sport to see the battle rage, + And valiant hawk with hawk engage; + 'Twas pitiful to see them fall,-- + Torn, bleeding, weltering, gasping, all. + Force, courage, cunning, all were plied; + Intrepid troops on either side + No effort spared to populate + The dusky realms of hungry Fate. + This woful strife awoke compassion + Within another feather'd nation, + Of iris neck and tender heart. + They tried their hand at mediation-- + To reconcile the foes, or part. + The pigeon people duly chose + Ambassadors, who work'd so well + As soon the murderous rage to quell, + And stanch the source of countless woes. + A truce took place, and peace ensued. + Alas! the people dearly paid + Who such pacification made! + Those cursed hawks at once pursued + The harmless pigeons, slew and ate, + Till towns and fields were desolate. + Small prudence had the friends of peace + To pacify such foes as these! + + The safety of the rest requires + The bad should flesh each other's spears: + Whoever peace with them desires + Had better set them by the ears. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII12">12</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7IX">IX</a>.--THE COACH AND THE FLY.[<a href="#VII13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Upon a sandy, uphill road, + Which naked in the sunshine glow'd, + Six lusty horses drew a coach. + Dames, monks, and invalids, its load, + On foot, outside, at leisure trode. + The team, all weary, stopp'd and blow'd: + Whereon there did a fly approach, + And, with a vastly business air. + Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz,-- + Now pricked them here, now prick'd them there, + As neatly as a jockey does,-- + And thought the while--he knew 'twas so-- + He made the team and carriage go,-- + On carriage-pole sometimes alighting-- + Or driver's nose--and biting. + And when the whole did get in motion, + Confirm'd and settled in the notion, + He took, himself, the total glory,-- + Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry, + And, as he buzz'd about the cattle, + Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle, + The files and squadrons leading on + To where the victory is won. + Thus charged with all the commonweal, + This single fly began to feel + Responsibility too great, + And cares, a grievous crushing weight; + And made complaint that none would aid + The horses up the tedious hill-- + The monk his prayers at leisure said-- + Fine time to pray!--the dames, at will, + Were singing songs--not greatly needed! + Thus in their ears he sharply sang, + And notes of indignation ran,-- + Notes, after all, not greatly heeded. + Erelong the coach was on the top: + 'Now,' said the fly, 'my hearties, stop + And breathe;--I've got you up the hill; + And Messrs. Horses, let me say, + I need not ask you if you will + A proper compensation pay.' + + Thus certain ever-bustling noddies + Are seen in every great affair; + Important, swelling, busy-bodies, + And bores 'tis easier to bear + Than chase them from their needless care. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII13">13</a>] Aesop; also Phaedrus, III., 6.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7X">X</a>.--THE DAIRYWOMAN AND THE POT OF MILK.</h4> +<pre> + A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, + Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; + Short clad and light, with speed she went, + Not fearing any accident; + Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, + Her dress that day, + The truth to say, + Was simple petticoat and slipper. + And, thus bedight, + Good Peggy, light,-- + Her gains already counted,-- + Laid out the cash + At single dash, + Which to a hundred eggs amounted. + Three nests she made, + Which, by the aid + Of diligence and care were hatch'd. + 'To raise the chicks, + I'll easy fix,' + Said she, 'beside our cottage thatch'd. + The fox must get + More cunning yet, + Or leave enough to buy a pig. + With little care + And any fare, + He'll grow quite fat and big; + And then the price + Will be so nice, + For which, the pork will sell! + 'Twill go quite hard + But in our yard + I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell-- + A calf to frisk among the flock!' + The thought made Peggy do the same; + And down at once the milk-pot came, + And perish'd with the shock. + Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu! + Your mistress' face is sad to view; + She gives a tear to fortune spilt; + Then with the downcast look of guilt + Home to her husband empty goes, + Somewhat in danger of his blows. + + Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air + His cots, or seats, or castles fair? + From kings to dairy women,--all,-- + The wise, the foolish, great and small,-- + Each thinks his waking dream the best. + Some flattering error fills the breast: + The world with all its wealth is ours, + Its honours, dames, and loveliest bowers. + Instinct with valour, when alone, + I hurl the monarch from his throne; + The people, glad to see him dead, + Elect me monarch in his stead, + And diadems rain on my head. + Some accident then calls me back, + And I'm no more than simple Jack.[<a href="#VII14">14</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII14">14</a>] This and the following fable should be read together. See <a href="VII16">note to next fable</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XI">XI</a>.--THE CURATE AND THE CORPSE.[<a href="#VII15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A dead man going slowly, sadly, + To occupy his last abode, + A curate by him, rather gladly, + Did holy service on the road. + Within a coach the dead was borne, + A robe around him duly worn, + Of which I wot he was not proud-- + That ghostly garment call'd a shroud. + In summer's blaze and winter's blast, + That robe is changeless--'tis the last. + The curate, with his priestly dress on, + Recited all the church's prayers, + The psalm, the verse, response, and lesson, + In fullest style of such affairs. + Sir Corpse, we beg you, do not fear + A lack of such things on your bier; + They'll give abundance every way, + Provided only that you pay. + The Reverend John Cabbagepate + Watch'd o'er the corpse as if it were + A treasure needing guardian care; + And all the while, his looks elate, + This language seem'd to hold: + 'The dead will pay so much in gold, + So much in lights of molten wax, + So much in other sorts of tax:' + With all he hoped to buy a cask of wine, + The best which thereabouts produced the vine. + A pretty niece, on whom he doted, + And eke his chambermaid, should be promoted, + By being newly petticoated. + The coach upset, and dash'd to pieces, + Cut short these thoughts of wine and nieces! + There lay poor John with broken head, + Beneath the coffin of the dead! + His rich, parishioner in lead + Drew on the priest the doom + Of riding with him to the tomb! + + The Pot of Milk,[<a href="#VII16">16</a>] and fate + Of Curate Cabbagepate, + As emblems, do but give + The history of most that live. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII15">15</a>] This fable is founded upon a fact, which is related by Madame de + Sévigné in her <i>Letters</i> under date Feb. 26, 1672, as + follows:--"M. Boufflers has killed a man since his death: the + circumstance was this: they were carrying him about a league from + Boufflers to inter him; the corpse was on a bier in a coach; his own + curate attended it; the coach overset, and the bier falling upon the + curate's neck choaked him." M. de Boufflers had fallen down dead a + few days before. He was the eldest brother of the Duke de Boufflers. + In another <i>Letter</i>, March 3, 1672, Madame de Sévigné + says:--"Here is Fontaine's fable too, on the adventure of M. de + Boufflers' curate, who was killed in the coach by his dead patron. + There was something very extraordinary in the affair itself: the + fable is pretty; but not to be compared to the one that follows it: + I do not understand the Milk-pot."<br> +[<a name="VII16">16</a>] This allusion to the preceding fable must be the "milk-pot" which + Madame de Sévigné did "not understand" (<i>vide</i> last note); + Madame can hardly have meant the "milk-pot" fable, which is easily + understood. She often saw La Fontaine's work before it was + published, and the date of her letter quoted at p. 161 shows that + she must so have seen the "Curate and the Corpse," and that, + perhaps, without so seeing the "Dairywoman and the Pot of Milk."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XII">XII</a>.--THE MAN WHO RAN AFTER FORTUNE, AND THE MAN WHO WAITED FOR HER IN +HIS BED.</h4> +<pre> + Who joins not with his restless race + To give Dame Fortune eager chase? + O, had I but some lofty perch, + From which to view the panting crowd + Of care-worn dreamers, poor and proud, + As on they hurry in the search, + From realm to realm, o'er land and water, + Of Fate's fantastic, fickle daughter! + Ah! slaves sincere of flying phantom! + Just as their goddess they would clasp, + The jilt divine eludes their grasp, + And flits away to Bantam! + Poor fellows! I bewail their lot. + And here's the comfort of my ditty; + For fools the mark of wrath are not + So much, I'm sure, as pity. + 'That man,' say they, and feed their hope, + 'Raised cabbages--and now he's pope. + Don't we deserve as rich a prize?' + Ay, richer? But, hath Fortune eyes? + And then the popedom, is it worth + The price that must be given?-- + Repose?--the sweetest bliss of earth, + And, ages since, of gods in heaven? + 'Tis rarely Fortune's favourites + Enjoy this cream of all delights. + Seek not the dame, and she will you-- + A truth which of her sex is true. + + Snug in a country town + A pair of friends were settled down. + One sigh'd unceasingly to find + A fortune better to his mind, + And, as he chanced his friend to meet, + Proposed to quit their dull retreat. + 'No prophet can to honour come,' + Said he, 'unless he quits his home; + Let's seek our fortune far and wide.' + 'Seek, if you please,' his friend replied: + 'For one, I do not wish to see + A better clime or destiny. + I leave the search and prize to you; + Your restless humour please pursue! + You'll soon come back again. + I vow to nap it here till then.' + The enterprising, or ambitious, + Or, if you please, the avaricious, + Betook him to the road. + The morrow brought him to a place + The flaunting goddess ought to grace + As her particular abode-- + I mean the court--whereat he staid, + And plans for seizing Fortune laid. + He rose, and dress'd, and dined, and went to bed, + Exactly as the fashion led: + In short, he did whate'er he could, + But never found the promised good. + Said he, 'Now somewhere else I'll try-- + And yet I fail'd I know not why; + For Fortune here is much at home + To this and that I see her come, + Astonishingly kind to some. + And, truly, it is hard to see + The reason why she slips from me. + 'Tis true, perhaps, as I've been told, + That spirits here may be too bold. + To courts and courtiers all I bid adieu; + Deceitful shadows they pursue. + The dame has temples in Surat; + I'll go and see them--that is flat.' + To say so was t' embark at once. + O, human hearts are made of bronze! + His must have been of adamant, + Beyond the power of Death to daunt, + Who ventured first this route to try, + And all its frightful risks defy. + 'Twas more than once our venturous wight + Did homeward turn his aching sight, + When pirate's, rocks, and calms and storms, + Presented death in frightful forms-- + Death sought with pains on distant shores, + Which soon as wish'd for would have come, + Had he not left the peaceful doors + Of his despised but blessed home. + Arrived, at length, in Hindostan, + The people told our wayward man + That Fortune, ever void of plan, + Dispensed her favours in Japan. + And on he went, the weary sea + His vessel bearing lazily. + This lesson, taught by savage men, + Was after all his only gain:-- + Contented in thy country stay, + And seek thy wealth in nature's way. + Japan refused to him, no less + Than Hindostan, success; + And hence his judgment came to make + His quitting home a great mistake. + Renouncing his ungrateful course, + He hasten'd back with all his force; + And when his village came in sight, + His tears were proof of his delight. + 'Ah, happy he,' exclaimed the wight, + 'Who, dwelling there with mind sedate, + Employs himself to regulate + His ever-hatching, wild desires; + Who checks his heart when it aspires + To know of courts, and seas, and glory, + More than he can by simple story; + Who seeks not o'er the treacherous wave-- + More treacherous Fortune's willing slave-- + The bait of wealth and honours fleeting, + Held by that goddess, aye retreating. + Henceforth from home I budge no more!' + Pop on his sleeping friends he came, + Thus purposing against the dame, + And found her sitting at his door.[<a href="#VII17">17</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII17">17</a>] See note to preceding fable, for Madame de Sévigné's opinion.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XIII">XIII</a>.--THE TWO COCKS.[<a href="#VII18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two cocks in peace were living, when + A war was kindled by a hen. + O love, thou bane of Troy! 'twas thine + The blood of men and gods to shed + Enough to turn the Xanthus red + As old Port wine! + And long the battle doubtful stood: + (I mean the battle of the cocks;) + They gave each other fearful shocks: + The fame spread o'er the neighbourhood, + And gather'd all the crested brood. + And Helens more than one, of plumage bright, + Led off the victor of that bloody fight. + The vanquish'd, drooping, fled, + Conceal'd his batter'd head, + And in a dark retreat + Bewail'd his sad defeat. + His loss of glory and the prize + His rival now enjoy'd before his eyes. + While this he every day beheld, + His hatred kindled, courage swell'd: + He whet his beak, and flapp'd his wings, + And meditated dreadful things. + Waste rage! His rival flew upon a roof + And crow'd to give his victory proof.-- + A hawk this boasting heard: + Now perish'd all his pride, + As suddenly he died + Beneath that savage bird. + In consequence of this reverse, + The vanquish'd sallied from his hole, + And took the harem, master sole, + For moderate penance not the worse. + Imagine the congratulation, + The proud and stately leading, + Gallanting, coaxing, feeding, + Of wives almost a nation! + 'Tis thus that Fortune loves to flee + The insolent by victory. + We should mistrust her when we beat, + Lest triumph lead us to defeat. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII18">18</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XIV">XIV</a>.--THE INGRATITUDE AND INJUSTICE OF MEN TOWARDS FORTUNE.[<a href="#VII19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A trader on the sea to riches grew; + Freight after freight the winds in favour blew; + Fate steer'd him clear; gulf, rock, nor shoal + Of all his bales exacted toll. + Of other men the powers of chance and storm + Their dues collected in substantial form; + While smiling Fortune, in her kindest sport, + Took care to waft his vessels to their port. + His partners, factors, agents, faithful proved; + His goods--tobacco, sugar, spice-- + Were sure to fetch the highest price. + By fashion and by folly loved, + His rich brocades and laces, + And splendid porcelain vases, + Enkindling strong desires, + Most readily found buyers. + In short, gold rain'd where'er he went-- + Abundance, more than could be spent-- + Dogs, horses, coaches, downy bedding-- + His very fasts were like a wedding. + A bosom friend, a look his table giving, + Inquired whence came such sumptuous living. + 'Whence should it come,' said he, superb of brow, + 'But from the fountain of my knowing how? + I owe it simply to my skill and care + In risking only where the marts will bear.' + And now, so sweet his swelling profits were, + He risk'd anew his former gains: + Success rewarded not his pains-- + His own imprudence was the cause. + One ship, ill-freighted, went awreck; + Another felt of arms the lack, + When pirates, trampling on the laws, + O'ercame, and bore it off a prize. + A third, arriving at its port, + Had fail'd to sell its merchandize,-- + The style and folly of the court + Not now requiring such a sort. + His agents, factors, fail'd;--in short, + The man himself, from pomp and princely cheer, + And palaces, and parks, and dogs, and deer, + Fell down to poverty most sad and drear. + His friend, now meeting him in shabby plight, + Exclaim'd, 'And whence comes this to pass?' + 'From Fortune,' said the man, 'alas!' + 'Console yourself,' replied the friendly wight: + 'For, if to make you rich the dame denies, + She can't forbid you to be wise.' + + What faith he gain'd, I do not wis; + I know, in every case like this, + Each claims the credit of his bliss, + And with a heart ingrate + Imputes his misery to Fate.[<a href="#VII20">20</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII19">19</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="VII20">20</a>] On this favourite subject with the easy-going La Fontaine--man's + ungracious treatment of Fortune--see also the two preceding fables, + and some neighbouring ones.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XV">XV</a>.--THE FORTUNE-TELLERS.</h4> +<pre> + 'Tis oft from chance opinion takes its rise, + And into reputation multiplies. + This prologue finds pat applications + In men of all this world's vocations; + For fashion, prejudice, and party strife, + Conspire to crowd poor justice out of life. + What can you do to counteract + This reckless, rushing cataract? + 'Twill have its course for good or bad, + As it, indeed, has always had. + + A dame in Paris play'd the Pythoness[<a href="#VII21">21</a>] + With much of custom, and, of course, success. + Was any trifle lost, or did + Some maid a husband wish, + Or wife of husband to be rid, + Or either sex for fortune fish, + Resort was had to her with gold, + To get the hidden future told. + Her art was made of various tricks, + Wherein the dame contrived to mix, + With much assurance, learned terms. + Now, chance, of course, sometimes confirms; + And just as often as it did, + The news was anything but hid. + In short, though, as to ninety-nine per cent., + The lady knew not what her answers meant, + Borne up by ever-babbling Fame, + An oracle she soon became. + A garret was this woman's home, + Till she had gain'd of gold a sum + That raised the station of her spouse-- + Bought him an office and a house. + As she could then no longer bear it, + Another tenanted the garret. + To her came up the city crowd,-- + Wives, maidens, servants, gentry proud,-- + To ask their fortunes, as before; + A Sibyl's cave was on her garret floor: + Such custom had its former mistress drawn + It lasted even when herself was gone. + It sorely tax'd the present mistress' wits + To satisfy the throngs of teasing cits. + 'I tell your fortunes! joke, indeed! + Why, gentlemen, I cannot read! + What can you, ladies, learn from me, + Who never learn'd my A, B, C?' + Avaunt with reasons! tell she must,-- + Predict as if she understood, + And lay aside more precious dust + Than two the ablest lawyers could. + The stuff that garnish'd out her room-- + Four crippled chairs, a broken broom-- + Help'd mightily to raise her merits,-- + Full proof of intercourse with spirits! + Had she predicted e'er so truly, + On floor with carpet cover'd duly, + Her word had been a mockery made. + The fashion set upon the garret. + Doubt that?--none bold enough to dare it! + The other woman lost her trade. + + All shopmen know the force of signs, + And so, indeed, do some divines. + In palaces, a robe awry + Has sometimes set the wearer high; + And crowds his teaching will pursue + Who draws the greatest listening crew. + Ask, if you please, the reason why. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII21">21</a>] <i>Pythoness</i>.--The Pythoness was the priestess who gave out the + oracles at Delphi.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XVI">XVI</a>.--THE CAT, THE WEASEL, AND THE YOUNG RABBIT.[<a href="#VII22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + John Rabbit's palace under ground + Was once by Goody Weasel found. + She, sly of heart, resolved to seize + The place, and did so at her ease. + She took possession while its lord + Was absent on the dewy sward, + Intent upon his usual sport, + A courtier at Aurora's court. + When he had browsed his fill of clover + And cut his pranks all nicely over, + Home Johnny came to take his drowse, + All snug within his cellar-house. + The weasel's nose he came to see, + Outsticking through the open door. + 'Ye gods of hospitality!' + Exclaim'd the creature, vexèd sore, + 'Must I give up my father's lodge? + Ho! Madam Weasel, please to budge, + Or, quicker than a weasel's dodge, + I'll call the rats to pay their grudge!' + The sharp-nosed lady made reply, + That she was first to occupy. + The cause of war was surely small-- + A house where one could only crawl! + And though it were a vast domain, + Said she, 'I'd like to know what will + Could grant to John perpetual reign,-- + The son of Peter or of Bill,-- + More than to Paul, or even me.' + John Rabbit spoke--great lawyer he-- + Of custom, usage, as the law, + Whereby the house, from sire to son, + As well as all its store of straw, + From Peter came at length to John. + Who could present a claim, so good + As he, the first possessor, could? + 'Now,' said the dame, 'let's drop dispute, + And go before Raminagrobis, [<a href="#VII23">23</a>] + Who'll judge, not only in this suit, + But tell us truly whose the globe is.' + This person was a hermit cat, + A cat that play'd the hypocrite, + A saintly mouser, sleek and fat, + An arbiter of keenest wit. + John Rabbit in the judge concurr'd, + And off went both their case to broach + Before his majesty, the furr'd. + Said Clapperclaw, 'My kits, approach, + And put your noses to my ears: + I'm deaf, almost, by weight of years.' + And so they did, not fearing aught. + The good apostle, Clapperclaw, + Then laid on each a well-arm'd paw, + And both to an agreement brought, + By virtue of his tuskèd jaw. + + This brings to mind the fate + Of little kings before the great. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII22">22</a>] Fables of Bidpaii, "The Rat and the Cat." In Knatchbull's English + edition it will be found at p. 275. Also in the Lokman Collection.<br> +[<a name="VII23">23</a>] <i>Raminagrobis.</i>--This name occurs in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 21), where, however, it is not the name of a cat, but of a + poet--understood to be meant for Guillaume Cretin, who lived in the + times of Kings Charles VIII., Louis XII., and Francis I. See note to + Bohn's edition of Rabelais.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XVII">XVII</a>.--THE HEAD AND THE TAIL OF THE SERPENT.[<a href="#VII24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two parts the serpent has-- + Of men the enemies-- + The head and tail: the same + Have won a mighty fame, + Next to the cruel Fates;-- + So that, indeed, hence + They once had great debates + About precedence. + The first had always gone ahead; + The tail had been for ever led; + And now to Heaven it pray'd, + And said, + 'O, many and many a league, + Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, + Behind his back I go. + Shall he for ever use me so? + Am I his humble servant; + No. Thanks to God most fervent! + His brother I was born, + And not his slave forlorn. + The self-same blood in both, + I'm just as good as he: + A poison dwells in me + As virulent as doth[<a href="#VII25">25</a>] + In him. In mercy, heed, + And grant me this decree, + That I, in turn, may lead-- + My brother, follow me. + My course shall be so wise, + That no complaint shall rise.' + + With cruel kindness Heaven granted + The very thing he blindly wanted: + To such desires of beasts and men, + Though often deaf, it was not then. + At once this novel guide, + That saw no more in broad daylight + Than in the murk of darkest night, + His powers of leading tried, + Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, + And led his brother straight to Styx. + And to the same unlovely home, + Some states by such an error come. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII24">24</a>] Plutarch's Lives, <i>Agis</i>, "The fable of the servant, enforcing + the moral that you cannot have the same man both for your governor + and your slave."<br> +[<a name="VII25">25</a>] An ancient mistake in natural history.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="7XVIII">XVIII</a>.--AN ANIMAL IN THE MOON.[<a href="#VII26">26</a>]</h4> +<pre> + While one philosopher[<a href="#VII27">27</a>] affirms + That by our senses we're deceived, + Another[<a href="#VII28">28</a>] swears, in plainest terms, + The senses are to be believed. + The twain are right. Philosophy + Correctly calls us dupes whene'er + Upon mere senses we rely. + But when we wisely rectify + The raw report of eye or ear, + By distance, medium, circumstance, + In real knowledge we advance. + These things hath nature wisely plann'd-- + Whereof the proof shall be at hand. + I see the sun: its dazzling glow + Seems but a hand-breadth here below; + But should I see it in its home, + That azure, star-besprinkled dome, + Of all the universe the eye, + Its blaze would fill one half the sky. + The powers of trigonometry + Have set my mind from blunder free. + The ignorant believe it flat; + I make it round, instead of that. + I fasten, fix, on nothing ground it, + And send the earth to travel round it. + In short, I contradict my eyes, + And sift the truth from constant lies. + The mind, not hasty at conclusion, + Resists the onset of illusion, + Forbids the sense to get the better, + And ne'er believes it to the letter. + Between my eyes, perhaps too ready, + And ears as much or more too slow, + A judge with balance true and steady, + I come, at last, some things to know. + Thus when the water crooks a stick,[<a href="#VII29">29</a>] + My reason straightens it as quick-- + Kind Mistress Reason--foe of error, + And best of shields from needless terror! + The creed is common with our race, + The moon contains a woman's face. + True? No. Whence, then, the notion, + From mountain top to ocean? + The roughness of that satellite, + Its hills and dales, of every grade, + Effect a change of light and shade + Deceptive to our feeble sight; + So that, besides the human face, + All sorts of creatures one might trace. + Indeed, a living beast, I ween, + Has lately been by England seen. + All duly placed the telescope, + And keen observers full of hope, + An animal entirely new, + In that fair planet, came to view. + Abroad and fast the wonder flew;-- + Some change had taken place on high, + Presaging earthly changes nigh; + Perhaps, indeed, it might betoken + The wars[<a href="#VII30">30</a>] that had already broken + Out wildly o'er the Continent. + The king to see the wonder went: + (As patron of the sciences, + No right to go more plain than his.) + To him, in turn, distinct and clear, + This lunar monster did appear.-- + A mouse, between the lenses caged, + Had caused these wars, so fiercely waged! + No doubt the happy English folks + Laugh'd at it as the best of jokes. + How soon will Mars afford the chance + For like amusements here in France! + He makes us reap broad fields of glory. + Our foes may fear the battle-ground; + For us, it is no sooner found, + Than Louis, with fresh laurels crown'd, + Bears higher up our country's story. + The daughters, too, of Memory,-- + The Pleasures and the Graces,-- + Still show their cheering faces: + We wish for peace, but do not sigh. + The English Charles the secret knows + To make the most of his repose. + And more than this, he'll know the way, + By valour, working sword in hand, + To bring his sea-encircled land + To share the fight it only sees to-day. + Yet, could he but this quarrel quell, + What incense-clouds would grateful swell! + What deed more worthy of his fame! + Augustus, Julius[<a href="#VII31">31</a>]--pray, which Caesar's name + Shines now on story's page with purest flame? + O people happy in your sturdy hearts! + Say, when shall Peace pack up these bloody darts, + And send us all, like you, to softer arts? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VII26">26</a>] This fable is founded on a fact which occurred in the experience of + the astronomer Sir Paul Neal, a member of the Royal Society of + London.--Translator. Sir Paul Neal, whose <i>lapsus</i> suggested + this fable, thought he had discovered an animal in the moon. + Unluckily, however, after having made his "discovery" known, it was + found that the ground of it was simply the accidental presence of a + mouse in the object-glass of his telescope. Samuel Butler, the + author of "Hudibras," has also made fun of this otherwise rather + tragical episode in the early history of the Royal Society of + London, <i>vide</i> his "Elephant in the Moon."<br> +[<a name="VII27">27</a>] <i>One philosopher.</i>--Democritus, the so-called "laughing (or + scoffing) philosopher." He lived B.C. about 400 years. <a href="#8XXVI">Fable XXVI., + Book VIII.</a>, is devoted to him and how he was treated by his + contemporaries.<br> +[<a name="VII28">28</a>] <i>Another.</i>--Epicurus, founder of the Epicurean philosophy. He + lived B. C. about 300 years.<br> +[<a name="VII29">29</a>] <i>Water crooks a stick</i>.--An allusion to the bent appearance + which a stick has in water, consequent upon the refraction of light.<br> +[<a name="VII30">30</a>] <i>The wars</i>.--This fable appears to have been composed about the + beginning of the year 1677. The European powers then found + themselves exhausted by wars, and desirous of peace. England, the + only neutral, became, of course, the arbiter of the negotiations + which ensued at Nimeguen. All the belligerent parties invoked her + mediation. Charles II., however, felt himself exceedingly + embarrassed by his secret connections with Louis XIV., which made + him desire to prescribe conditions favourable to that monarch; + while, on the other hand, he feared the people of England, if, + treacherous to her interests, he should fail to favour the nations + allied and combined against France.--Translator. <i>Vide</i> Hume: + who also says that the English king "had actually in secret sold his + neutrality to France, and he received remittances of 1,000,000 + livres a year, which was afterwards increased to 2,000,000 livres; a + considerable sum in the embarrassed state of his revenue." Hume's + <i>Hist. England</i>, Bell's edit., 1854, vol. vi., p. 242.<br> +[<a name="VII31">31</a>] <i>Augustus, Julius.</i>--Augustus Caesar was eminent for his + pacific policy, as Julius Caesar was eminent for his warlike policy.</p> + +<br><hr><br> + + +<h3><a name="VIII">BOOK</a> VIII.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="8I">I</a>.--DEATH AND THE DYING.[<a href="#VIII1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Death never taketh by surprise + The well-prepared, to wit, the wise-- + They knowing of themselves the time + To meditate the final change of clime. + That time, alas! embraces all + Which into hours and minutes we divide; + There is no part, however small, + That from this tribute one can hide. + The very moment, oft, which bids + The heirs of empire see the light + Is that which shuts their fringèd lids + In everlasting night. + Defend yourself by rank and wealth, + Plead beauty, virtue, youth, and health,-- + Unblushing Death will ravish all; + The world itself shall pass beneath his pall. + No truth is better known; but, truth to say, + No truth is oftener thrown away. + + A man, well in his second century, + Complain'd that Death had call'd him suddenly; + Had left no time his plans to fill, + To balance books, or make his will. + 'O Death,' said he, 'd' ye call it fair, + Without a warning to prepare, + To take a man on lifted leg? + O, wait a little while, I beg. + My wife cannot be left alone; + I must set out my nephew's son, + And let me build my house a wing, + Before you strike, O cruel king!' + 'Old man,' said Death, 'one thing is sure,-- + My visit here's not premature. + Hast thou not lived a century! + Darest thou engage to find for me? + In Paris' walls two older men + Has France, among her millions ten? + Thou say'st I should have sent thee word + Thy lamp to trim, thy loins to gird, + And then my coming had been meet-- + Thy will engross'd, + Thy house complete! + Did not thy feelings notify? + Did not they tell thee thou must die? + Thy taste and hearing are no more; + Thy sight itself is gone before; + For thee the sun superfluous shines, + And all the wealth of Indian mines; + Thy mates I've shown thee dead or dying. + What's this, indeed, but notifying? + Come on, old man, without reply; + For to the great and common weal + It doth but little signify + Whether thy will shall ever feel + The impress of thy hand and seal.' + + And Death had reason,--ghastly sage! + For surely man, at such an age, + Should part from life as from a feast, + Returning decent thanks, at least, + To Him who spread the various cheer, + And unrepining take his bier; + For shun it long no creature can. + Repinest thou, grey-headed man? + See younger mortals rushing by + To meet their death without a sigh-- + Death full of triumph and of fame, + But in its terrors still the same.-- + But, ah! my words are thrown away! + Those most like Death most dread his sway. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII1">1</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8II">II</a>.--THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER.</h4> +<pre> + A cobbler sang from morn till night; + 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, + His trills and quavers told the ear + Of more contentment and delight, + Enjoy'd by that laborious wight + Than e'er enjoy'd the sages seven, + Or any mortals short of heaven. + His neighbour, on the other hand, + With gold in plenty at command, + But little sang, and slumber'd less-- + A financier of great success. + If e'er he dozed, at break of day, + The cobbler's song drove sleep away; + And much he wish'd that Heaven had made + Sleep a commodity of trade, + In market sold, like food and drink, + So much an hour, so much a wink. + At last, our songster did he call + To meet him in his princely hall. + Said he, 'Now, honest Gregory, + What may your yearly earnings be?' + 'My yearly earnings! faith, good sir, + I never go, at once, so far,' + The cheerful cobbler said, + And queerly scratch'd his head,-- + 'I never reckon in that way, + But cobble on from day to day, + Content with daily bread.' + 'Indeed! Well, Gregory, pray, + What may your earnings be per day?' + 'Why, sometimes more and sometimes less. + The worst of all, I must confess, + (And but for which our gains would be + A pretty sight, indeed, to see,) + Is that the days are made so many + In which we cannot earn a penny-- + The sorest ill the poor man feels: + They tread upon each other's heels, + Those idle days of holy saints! + And though the year is shingled o'er, + The parson keeps a-finding more!'[<a href="#VIII2">2</a>] + With smiles provoked by these complaints, + Replied the lordly financier, + 'I'll give you better cause to sing. + These hundred pounds I hand you here + Will make you happy as a king. + Go, spend them with a frugal heed; + They'll long supply your every need.' + The cobbler thought the silver more + Than he had ever dream'd before, + The mines for ages could produce, + Or world, with all its people, use. + He took it home, and there did hide-- + And with it laid his joy aside. + No more of song, no more of sleep, + But cares, suspicions in their stead, + And false alarms, by fancy fed. + His eyes and ears their vigils keep, + And not a cat can tread the floor + But seems a thief slipp'd through the door. + At last, poor man! + Up to the financier he ran,-- + Then in his morning nap profound: + 'O, give me back my songs,' cried he, + 'And sleep, that used so sweet to be, + And take the money, every pound!' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII2">2</a>] <i>The parson keeps a-finding more!</i>--Under the old regime of + France the parish priest of each church had usually every Sunday, at + sermon time, to announce more than one religious fast or feast for + the coming week, which the poor at least were expected to observe.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8III">III</a>.--THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX.[<a href="#VIII3">3</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A lion, old, and impotent with gout, + Would have some cure for age found out. + Impossibilities, on all occasions, + With kings, are rank abominations. + This king, from every species,-- + For each abounds in every sort,-- + Call'd to his aid the leeches. + They came in throngs to court, + From doctors of the highest fee + To nostrum-quacks without degree,-- + Advised, prescribed, talk'd learnedly; + But with the rest + Came not Sir Cunning Fox, M.D. + Sir Wolf the royal couch attended, + And his suspicions there express'd. + Forthwith his majesty, offended, + Resolved Sir Cunning Fox should come, + And sent to smoke him from his home. + He came, was duly usher'd in, + And, knowing where Sir Wolf had been, + Said, 'Sire, your royal ear + Has been abused, I fear, + By rumours false and insincere; + To wit, that I've been self-exempt + From coming here, through sheer contempt. + But, sire, I've been on pilgrimage, + By vow expressly made, + Your royal health to aid, + And, on my way, met doctors sage, + In skill the wonder of the age, + Whom carefully I did consult + About that great debility + Term'd in the books senility, + Of which you fear, with reason, the result. + You lack, they say, the vital heat, + By age extreme become effete. + Drawn from a living wolf, the hide + Should warm and smoking be applied. + The secret's good, beyond a doubt, + For nature's weak, and wearing out. + Sir Wolf, here, won't refuse to give + His hide to cure you, as I live.' + The king was pleased with this advice. + Flay'd, jointed, served up in a trice, + Sir Wolf first wrapp'd the monarch up, + Then furnish'd him whereon to sup. + + Beware, ye courtiers, lest ye gain, + By slander's arts, less power than pain; + For in the world where ye are living, + A pardon no one thinks of giving. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII3">3</a>] Aesop; also Bidpaii, and Lokman.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8IV">IV</a>.--THE POWER OF FABLES.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To M. De Barillon.[<a href="#VIII4">4</a>]</p> +<pre> + Can diplomatic dignity + To simple fables condescend? + Can I your famed benignity + Invoke, my muse an ear to lend? + If once she dares a high intent, + Will you esteem her impudent? + Your cares are weightier, indeed, + Than listening to the sage debates + Of rabbit or of weasel states: + So, as it pleases, burn or read; + But save us from the woful harms + Of Europe roused in hostile arms. + That from a thousand other places + Our enemies should show their faces, + May well be granted with a smile, + But not that England's Isle + Our friendly kings should set + Their fatal blades to whet. + Comes not the time for Louis to repose? + What Hercules, against these hydra foes, + Would not grow weary? Must new heads oppose + His ever-waxing energy of blows? + Now, if your gentle, soul-persuasive powers, + As sweet as mighty in this world of ours, + Can soften hearts, and lull this war to sleep,[<a href="#VIII5">5</a>] + I'll pile your altars with a hundred sheep; + And this is not a small affair + For a Parnassian mountaineer. + Meantime, (if you have time to spare,) + Accept a little incense-cheer. + A homely, but an ardent prayer, + And tale in verse, I give you here. + I'll only say, the theme is fit for you. + With praise, which envy must confess + To worth like yours is justly due, + No man on earth needs propping less. + + In Athens, once, that city fickle, + An orator,[<a href="#VIII6">6</a>] awake to feel + His country in a dangerous pickle, + Would sway the proud republic's heart, + Discoursing of the common weal, + As taught by his tyrannic art. + The people listen'd--not a word. + Meanwhile the orator recurr'd + To bolder tropes--enough to rouse + The dullest blocks that e'er did drowse; + He clothed in life the very dead, + And thunder'd all that could be said. + The wind received his breath, + As to the ear of death. + That beast of many heads and light,[<a href="#VIII7">7</a>] + The crowd, accustom'd to the sound + Was all intent upon a sight-- + A brace of lads in mimic fight. + A new resource the speaker found. + 'Ceres,' in lower tone said he, + 'Went forth her harvest fields to see: + An eel, as such a fish might he, + And swallow, were her company. + A river check'd the travellers three. + Two cross'd it soon without ado; + The smooth eel swam, the swallow flew.--' + Outcried the crowd + With voices loud-- + 'And Ceres--what did she?' + 'Why, what she pleased; but first + Yourselves she justly cursed-- + A people puzzling aye your brains + With children's tales and children's play, + While Greece puts on her steel array, + To save her limbs from, tyrant chains! + Why ask you not what Philip[<a href="#VIII8">8</a>] does?' + At this reproach the idle buzz + Fell to the silence of the grave, + Or moonstruck sea without a wave, + And every eye and ear awoke + To drink the words the patriot spoke. + This feather stick in Fable's cap. + We're all Athenians, mayhap; + And I, for one, confess the sin; + For, while I write this moral here, + If one should tell that tale so queer + Ycleped, I think, "The Ass's Skin,"[<a href="#VIII9">9</a>] + I should not mind my work a pin. + The world is old, they say; I don't deny it;-- + But, infant still + In taste and will, + Whoe'er would teach, must gratify it.[<a href="#VIII10">10</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII4">4</a>] <i>M. De Barillon.</i>--Ambassador to the Court of St. + James.--Translator. M. De Barillon was a great friend of La Fontaine, + and also of other literary lights of the time.<br> +[<a name="VIII5">5</a>] <i>And lull this war to sleep.</i>--The parliament of England was + determined that, in case Louis XIV. did not make peace with the + allies, Charles II. should join them to make war on + France.--Translator.<br> +[<a name="VIII6">6</a>] <i>An orator.</i>--Demades.--Translator.<br> +[<a name="VIII7">7</a>] <i>That beast of many heads.</i>--Horace, speaking of the Roman + people, said, "Bellua multorum est capitum."--<i>Epist. I., Book + I.</i>, 76.--Translator.<br> +[<a name="VIII8">8</a>] <i>Philip.</i>--Philip of Macedon, then at war with the Greeks.<br> +[<a name="VIII9">9</a>] "The Ass's Skin,"--an old French nursery tale so called.<br> +[<a name="VIII10">10</a>] La Fontaine's views on "the power of fables" are further given in + <a href="#2I">Fable I., Book II.</a>; <a href="#3I">Fable I., Book III.</a>; <a href="#5I">Fable I., Book V.</a>; <a href="#6I">Fable + I., Book VI</a>; the <a href="#VII">Introduction to Book VII.</a>, and <a href="#9I">Fable I., Book IX</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8V">V</a>.--THE MAN AND THE FLEA.[<a href="#VIII11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Impertinent, we tease and weary Heaven + With prayers which would insult mere mortals even. + 'Twould seem that not a god in all the skies + From our affairs must ever turn his eyes, + And that the smallest of our race + Could hardly eat, or wash his face, + Without, like Greece and Troy for ten years' space, + Embroiling all Olympus in the case. + + A flea some blockhead's shoulder bit, + And then his clothes refused to quit. + 'O Hercules,' he cried, 'you ought to purge + This world of this far worse than hydra scourge! + O Jupiter, what are your bolts about, + They do not put these foes of mine to rout?' + + To crush a flea, this fellow's fingers under, + The gods must lend the fool their club and thunder! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII11">11</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8VI">VI</a>.--THE WOMEN AND THE SECRET.[<a href="#VIII12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + There's nothing like a secret weighs; + Too heavy 'tis for women tender; + And, for this matter, in my days, + I've seen some men of female gender. + + To prove his wife, a husband cried, + (The night he knew the truth would hide,) + 'O Heavens! What's this? O dear--I beg-- + I'm torn--O! O! I've laid an egg!' + 'An egg?' 'Why, yes, it's gospel-true. + Look here--see--feel it, fresh and new; + But, wife, don't mention it, lest men + Should laugh at me, and call me hen: + Indeed, don't say a word about it.' + On this, as other matters, green and young, + The wife, all wonder, did not doubt it, + And pledged herself by Heaven to hold her tongue. + Her oath, however, fled the light + As quick as did the shades of night. + Before Dan Phoebus waked to labour + The dame was off to see a neighbour. + 'My friend,' she said, half-whispering. + 'There's come to pass the strangest thing-- + If you should tell, 'twould turn me out of door:-- + My husband's laid an egg as big as four! + As you would taste of heaven's bliss, + Don't tell a living soul of this.' + 'I tell! why if you knew a thing about me, + You wouldn't for an instant doubt me; + Your confidence I'll ne'er abuse.' + The layer's wife went home relieved; + The other broil'd to tell the news; + You need not ask if she believed. + A dame more busy could not be; + In twenty places, ere her tea, + Instead of one egg, she said three! + Nor was the story finish'd here: + A gossip, still more keen than she, + Said four, and spoke it in the ear-- + A caution truly little worth, + Applied to all the ears on earth. + Of eggs, the number, thanks to Fame, + As on from mouth to mouth she sped, + Had grown a hundred, soothly said, + Ere Sol had quench'd his golden flame! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII12">12</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8VII">VII</a>.--THE DOG THAT CARRIED HIS MASTER'S DINNER.</h4> +<pre> + Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, + Nor hands against the touch of gold. + Fidelity is sadly rare, + And has been from the days of old. + Well taught his appetite to check, + And do full many a handy trick, + A dog was trotting, light and quick, + His master's dinner on his neck. + A temperate, self-denying dog was he, + More than, with such a load, he liked to be. + But still he was, while many such as we + Would not have scrupled to make free. + Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, + Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach! + This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, + A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. + To get it was less easy than he thought: + The porter laid it down and fought. + Meantime some other dogs arrive: + Such dogs are always thick enough, + And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, + Upon the public thrive. + Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd,-- + The meat in danger manifest,-- + Is fain to share it with the rest; + And, looking very calm and wise, + 'No anger, gentlemen,' he cries: + 'My morsel will myself suffice; + The rest shall be your welcome prize.' + With this, the first his charge to violate, + He snaps a mouthful from his freight. + Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, + Till all is cleanly eaten up. + Not sparingly the party feasted, + And not a dog of all but tasted. + + In some such manner men abuse + Of towns and states the revenues. + The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor, + Come in for each a liberal share. + The strongest gives the rest example: + 'Tis sport to see with what a zest + They sweep and lick the public chest + Of all its funds, however ample. + If any commonweal's defender + Should dare to say a single word, + He's shown his scruples are absurd, + And finds it easy to surrender-- + Perhaps, to be the first offender. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8VIII">VIII</a>.--THE JOKER AND THE FISHES.[<a href="#VIII13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Some seek for jokers; I avoid. + A joke must be, to be enjoy'd, + Of wisdom's words, by wit employ'd. + God never meant for men of sense, + The wits that joke to give offence. + + Perchance of these I shall be able + To show you one preserved in fable. + A joker at a banker's table, + Most amply spread to satisfy + The height of epicurean wishes, + Had nothing near but little fishes. + So, taking several of the fry, + He whisper'd to them very nigh, + And seem'd to listen for reply. + The guests much wonder'd what it meant, + And stared upon him all intent. + The joker, then with sober face, + Politely thus explain'd the case: + 'A friend of mine, to India bound, + Has been, I fear, + Within a year, + By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. + I ask'd these strangers from the sea + To tell me where my friend might be. + But all replied they were too young + To know the least of such a matter-- + The older fish could tell me better. + Pray, may I hear some older tongue?' + What relish had the gentlefolks + For such a sample of his jokes, + Is more than I can now relate. + They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, + A monster of so old a date, + He must have known the names and fate + Of all the daring voyagers, + Who, following the moon and stars, + Have, by mischances, sunk their bones, + Within the realms of Davy Jones; + And who, for centuries, had seen, + Far down, within the fathomless, + Where whales themselves are sceptreless, + The ancients in their halls of green. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII13">13</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8IX">IX</a>.--THE RAT AND THE OYSTER[<a href="#VIII14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A country rat, of little brains, + Grown weary of inglorious rest, + Left home with all its straws and grains, + Resolved to know beyond his nest. + When peeping through the nearest fence, + 'How big the world is, how immense!' + He cried; 'there rise the Alps, and that + Is doubtless famous Ararat.' + His mountains were the works of moles, + Or dirt thrown up in digging holes! + Some days of travel brought him where + The tide had left the oysters bare. + Since here our traveller saw the sea, + He thought these shells the ships must be. + 'My father was, in truth,' said he, + 'A coward, and an ignoramus; + He dared not travel: as for me, + I've seen the ships and ocean famous; + Have cross'd the deserts without drinking, + And many dangerous streams unshrinking; + Such things I know from having seen and felt them.' + And, as he went, in tales he proudly dealt them, + Not being of those rats whose knowledge + Comes by their teeth on books in college. + Among the shut-up shell-fish, one + Was gaping widely at the sun; + It breathed, and drank the air's perfume, + Expanding, like a flower in bloom. + Both white and fat, its meat + Appear'd a dainty treat. + Our rat, when he this shell espied, + Thought for his stomach to provide. + 'If not mistaken in the matter,' + Said he, 'no meat was ever fatter, + Or in its flavour half so fine, + As that on which to-day I dine.' + Thus full of hope, the foolish chap + Thrust in his head to taste, + And felt the pinching of a trap-- + The oyster closed in haste. + + We're first instructed, by this case, + That those to whom the world is new + Are wonder-struck at every view; + And, in the second place, + That the marauder finds his match, + And he is caught who thinks to catch. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII14">14</a>] Abstemius; also Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8X">X</a>.--THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER.[<a href="#VIII15">15</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, + By fate confined within a lonely wood, + A new Bellerophon,[<a href="#VIII16">16</a>] whose life, + Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife,-- + Became insane; for reason, as we term it, + Dwells never long with any hermit. + 'Tis good to mix in good society, + Obeying rules of due propriety; + And better yet to be alone; + But both are ills when overdone. + No animal had business where + All grimly dwelt our hermit bear; + Hence, bearish as he was, he grew + Heart-sick, and long'd for something new. + While he to sadness was addicted, + An aged man, not far from there, + Was by the same disease afflicted. + A garden was his favourite care,-- + Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, + And eke Pomona's--ripe and red + The presents that her fingers shed. + These two employments, true, are sweet + When made so by some friend discreet. + The gardens, gaily as they look, + Talk not, (except in this my book;) + So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, + Our man one morning left his home + Some company to seek, + That had the power to speak.-- + The bear, with thoughts the same, + Down from his mountain came; + And in a solitary place, + They met each other, face to face. + It would have made the boldest tremble; + What did our man? To play the Gascon + The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, + His fear contriving to dissemble. + The bear, unused to compliment, + Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, + 'Come home with me.' The man replied: + 'Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, + In yonder garden you may spy, + Where, if you'll honour me the while, + We'll break our fast in rural style. + I've fruits and milk,--unworthy fare, + It may be, for a wealthy bear; + But then I offer what I have.' + The bear accepts, with visage grave, + But not unpleased; and on their way, + They grow familiar, friendly, gay. + Arrived, you see them, side by side, + As if their friendship had been tried. + To a companion so absurd, + Blank solitude were well preferr'd, + Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, + The man was left quite at his leisure + To trim his garden at his pleasure. + Sir Bruin hunted--always brought + His friend whatever game he caught; + But chiefly aim'd at driving flies-- + Those hold and shameless parasites, + That vex us with their ceaseless bites-- + From off our gardener's face and eyes. + One day, while, stretch'd upon the ground + The old man lay, in sleep profound, + A fly that buzz'd around his nose,-- + And bit it sometimes, I suppose,-- + Put Bruin sadly to his trumps. + At last, determined, up he jumps; + 'I'll stop thy noisy buzzing now,' + Says he; 'I know precisely how.' + No sooner said than done. + He seized a paving-stone; + And by his modus operandi + Did both the fly and man die. + + A foolish friend may cause more woe + Than could, indeed, the wisest foe. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII15">15</a>] Bidpaii.<br> +[<a name="VIII16">16</a>] <i>Bellerophon</i>.--The son of King Glaucus, who, after a wandering + life, died a prey to melancholy.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XI">XI</a>.--THE TWO FRIENDS.[<a href="#VIII17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two friends, in Monomotapa, + Had all their interests combined. + Their friendship, faithful and refined, + Our country can't exceed, do what it may. + One night, when potent Sleep had laid + All still within our planet's shade, + One of the two gets up alarm'd, + Runs over to the other's palace, + And hastily the servants rallies. + His startled friend, quick arm'd, + With purse and sword his comrade meets, + And thus right kindly greets:-- + 'Thou seldom com'st at such an hour; + I take thee for a man of sounder mind + Than to abuse the time for sleep design'd. + Hast lost thy purse, by Fortune's power? + Here's mine. Hast suffer'd insult, or a blow, + I've here my sword--to avenge it let us go.' + 'No,' said his friend, 'no need I feel + Of either silver, gold, or steel; + I thank thee for thy friendly zeal. + In sleep I saw thee rather sad, + And thought the truth might be as bad. + Unable to endure the fear, + That cursed dream has brought me here.' + + Which think you, reader, loved the most! + If doubtful this, one truth may be proposed: + There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: + Not only is he prompt to lend-- + An angler delicate, he fishes + The very deepest of your wishes, + And spares your modesty the task + His friendly aid to ask. + A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, + When pointing at the object dear.[<a href="#VIII18">18</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII17">17</a>] Bidpaii.<br> +[<a name="VIII18">18</a>] This fable is thought to have been inspired by the friendship of La + Fontaine for Fouquet, the minister whom Louis XIV., actuated mostly + by jealousy and envy, disgraced and imprisoned. See the Translator's + Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XII">XII</a>.--THE HOG, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP.[<a href="#VIII19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, + All to the market rode together. + Their own amusement was not that + Which caused their journey thither. + Their coachman did not mean to 'set them down' + To see the shows and wonders of the town. + The porker cried, in piercing squeals, + As if with butchers at his heels. + The other beasts, of milder mood, + The cause by no means understood. + They saw no harm, and wonder'd why + At such a rate the hog should cry. + 'Hush there, old piggy!' said the man, + 'And keep as quiet as you can. + What wrong have you to squeal about, + And raise this dev'lish, deaf'ning shout? + These stiller persons at your side + Have manners much more dignified. + Pray, have you heard + A single word + Come from that gentleman in wool? + That proves him wise.' 'That proves him fool!' + The testy hog replied; + 'For did he know + To what we go, + He'd cry almost to split his throat; + So would her ladyship the goat. + They only think to lose with ease, + The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece: + They're, maybe, right; but as for me, + This ride is quite another matter. + Of service only on the platter, + My death is quite a certainty. + Adieu, my dear old piggery!' + The porker's logic proved at once + Himself a prophet and a dunce. + + Hope ever gives a present ease, + But fear beforehand kills: + The wisest he who least foresees + Inevitable ills. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII19">19</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XIII">XIII</a>.--THYRSIS AND AMARANTH.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">For Mademoiselle De Sillery.[<a href="#VIII20">20</a>]</p> +<pre> + I had the Phrygian quit, + Charm'd with Italian wit;[<a href="#VIII21">21</a>] + But a divinity + Would on Parnassus see + A fable more from me. + Such challenge to refuse, + Without a good excuse, + Is not the way to use + Divinity or muse. + Especially to one + Of those who truly are, + By force of being fair, + Made queens of human will. + A thing should not be done + In all respects so ill. + For, be it known to all, + From Sillery the call + Has come for bird, and beast, + And insects, to the least; + To clothe their thoughts sublime + In this my simple rhyme. + In saying Sillery, + All's said that need to be. + Her claim to it so good, + Few fail to give her place + Above the human race: + How could they, if they would? + + Now come we to our end:-- + As she opines my tales + Are hard to comprehend-- + For even genius fails + Some things to understand-- + So let us take in hand + To make unnecessary, + For once, a commentary. + Come shepherds now,--and rhyme we afterwards + The talk between the wolves and fleecy herds. + + To Amaranth, the young and fair, + Said Thyrsis, once, with serious air,-- + 'O, if you knew, like me, a certain ill, + With which we men are harm'd, + As well as strangely charm'd, + No boon from Heaven your heart could like it fill! + Please let me name it in your ear,-- + A harmless word,--you need not fear. + Would I deceive you, you, for whom I bear + The tenderest sentiments that ever were?' + Then Amaranth replied, + 'What is its name? I beg you, do not hide' + ''Tis LOVE.'--' The word is beautiful! reveal + Its signs and symptoms, how it makes one feel.'-- + 'Its pains are ecstacies. So sweet its stings, + The nectar-cups and incense-pots of kings, + Compared, are flat, insipid things. + One strays all lonely in the wood-- + Leans silent o'er the placid flood, + And there with great complacency, + A certain face can see-- + 'Tis not one's own--but image fair, + Retreating, + Fleeting, + Meeting, + Greeting, + Following everywhere. + For all the rest of human kind, + One is as good, in short, as blind. + There is a shepherd wight, I ween, + Well known upon the village green, + Whose voice, whose name, whose turning of the hinge + Excites upon the cheek a richer tinge-- + The thought of whom is signal for a sigh-- + The breast that heaves it knows not why-- + Whose face the maiden fears to see, + Yet none so welcome still as he.'-- + Here Amaranth cut short his speech: + 'O! O! is that the evil which you preach? + To me I think it is no stranger; + I must have felt its power and danger.' + Here Thrysis thought his end was gain'd, + When further thus the maid explain'd: + ''Tis just the very sentiment + Which I have felt for Clidamant!' + The other, vex'd and mortified, + Now bit his lips, and nearly died. + + Like him are multitudes, who when + Their own advancement they have meant, + Have play'd the game of other men. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII20">20</a>] <i>Mdlle. de Sillery</i>.--Gabrielle-Françoise Brulart de Sillery, + niece of La Fontaine's friend and patron, the Duke de La + Rochefoucauld (author of the <i>Maximes</i>). She married Louis de + Tibergeau, Marquis de La Motte-au-Maine, and died in 1732.<br> +[<a name="VIII21">21</a>] <i>Italian wit</i>.--Referring to his Tales, in which he had + borrowed many subjects from Boccaccio.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XIV">XIV</a>.--THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS.[<a href="#VIII22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The lion's consort died: + Crowds, gather'd at his side, + Must needs console the prince, + And thus their loyalty evince + By compliments of course; + Which make affliction worse. + Officially he cites + His realm to funeral rites, + At such a time and place; + His marshals of the mace + Would order the affair. + Judge you if all came there. + Meantime, the prince gave way + To sorrow night and day. + With cries of wild lament + His cave he well-nigh rent. + And from his courtiers far and near, + Sounds imitative you might hear. + + The court a country seems to me, + Whose people are, no matter what,-- + Sad, gay, indifferent, or not,-- + As suits the will of majesty; + Or, if unable so to be, + Their task it is to seem it all-- + Chameleons, monkeys, great and small. + 'Twould seem one spirit serves a thousand bodies-- + A paradise, indeed, for soulless noddies. + + But to our tale again: + The stag graced not the funeral train; + Of tears his cheeks bore not a stain; + For how could such a thing have been, + When death avenged him on the queen, + Who, not content with taking one, + Had choked to death his wife and son? + The tears, in truth, refused to run. + A flatterer, who watch'd the while, + Affirm'd that he had seen him smile. + If, as the wise man somewhere saith, + A king's is like a lion's wrath, + What should King Lion's be but death? + The stag, however, could not read; + Hence paid this proverb little heed, + And walk'd, intrepid, to'ards the throne; + When thus the king, in fearful tone: + 'Thou caitiff of the wood! + Presum'st to laugh at such a time? + Joins not thy voice the mournful chime? + We suffer not the blood + Of such a wretch profane + Our sacred claws to stain. + Wolves, let a sacrifice be made, + Avenge your mistress' awful shade.' + 'Sire,' did the stag reply, + The time for tears is quite gone by; + For in the flowers, not far from here, + Your worthy consort did appear; + Her form, in spite of my surprise, + I could not fail to recognise. + "My friend," said she, "beware + Lest funeral pomp about my bier, + When I shall go with gods to share, + Compel thine eye to drop a tear. + With kindred saints I rove + In the Elysian grove, + And taste a sort of bliss + Unknown in worlds like this. + Still, let the royal sorrow flow + Its proper season here below; + 'Tis not unpleasing, I confess."' + The king and court scarce hear him out. + Up goes the loud and welcome shout-- + 'A miracle! an apotheosis!' + And such at once the fashion is, + So far from dying in a ditch, + The stag retires with presents rich. + + Amuse the ear of royalty + With pleasant dreams, and flattery,-- + No matter what you may have done, + Nor yet how high its wrath may run,-- + The bait is swallow'd--object won. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII22">22</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XV">XV</a>.--THE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT.</h4> +<pre> + One's own importance to enhance, + Inspirited by self-esteem, + Is quite a common thing in France; + A French disease it well might seem. + The strutting cavaliers of Spain + Are in another manner vain. + Their pride has more insanity; + More silliness our vanity. + Let's shadow forth our own disease-- + Well worth a hundred tales like these. + + A rat, of quite the smallest size, + Fix'd on an elephant his eyes, + And jeer'd the beast of high descent + Because his feet so slowly went. + Upon his back, three stories high, + There sat, beneath a canopy, + A certain sultan of renown, + His dog, and cat, and concubine, + His parrot, servant, and his wine, + All pilgrims to a distant town. + The rat profess'd to be amazed + That all the people stood and gazed + With wonder, as he pass'd the road, + Both at the creature and his load. + 'As if,' said he, 'to occupy + A little more of land or sky + Made one, in view of common sense, + Of greater worth and consequence! + What see ye, men, in this parade, + That food for wonder need be made? + The bulk which makes a child afraid? + In truth, I take myself to be, + In all aspects, as good as he.' + And further might have gone his vaunt; + But, darting down, the cat + Convinced him that a rat + Is smaller than an elephant. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XVI">XVI</a>.--THE HOROSCOPE.</h4> +<pre> + On death we mortals often run, + Just by the roads we take to shun. + + A father's only heir, a son, + Was over-loved, and doted on + So greatly, that astrology + Was question'd what his fate might be. + The man of stars this caution gave-- + That, until twenty years of age, + No lion, even in a cage, + The boy should see,--his life to save. + The sire, to silence every fear + About a life so very dear, + Forbade that any one should let + His son beyond his threshold get. + Within his palace walls, the boy + Might all that heart could wish enjoy-- + Might with his mates walk, leap, and run, + And frolic in the wildest fun. + When come of age to love the chase, + That exercise was oft depicted + To him as one that brought disgrace, + To which but blackguards were addicted. + But neither warning nor derision + Could change his ardent disposition. + The youth, fierce, restless, full of blood, + Was prompted by the boiling flood + To love the dangers of the wood. + The more opposed, the stronger grew + His mad desire. The cause he knew, + For which he was so closely pent; + And as, where'er he went, + In that magnificent abode, + Both tapestry and canvas show'd + The feats he did so much admire, + A painted lion roused his ire. + 'Ah, monster!' cried he, in his rage, + 'Tis you that keep me in my cage.' + With that, he clinch'd his fist, + To strike the harmless beast-- + And did his hand impale + Upon a hidden nail! + And thus this cherish'd head, + For which the healing art + But vainly did its part, + Was hurried to the dead, + By caution blindly meant + To shun that sad event. + + The poet Aeschylus, 'tis said, + By much the same precaution bled. + A conjuror foretold + A house would crush him in its fall;-- + Forth sallied he, though old, + From town and roof-protected hall, + And took his lodgings, wet or dry, + Abroad, beneath the open sky. + An eagle, bearing through the air + A tortoise for her household fare, + Which first she wish'd to break, + The creature dropp'd, by sad mistake, + Plump on the poet's forehead bare, + As if it were a naked rock-- + To Aeschylus a fatal shock! + + From these examples, it appears, + This art, if true in any wise, + Makes men fulfil the very fears + Engender'd by its prophecies. + But from this charge I justify, + By branding it a total lie. + I don't believe that Nature's powers + Have tied her hands or pinion'd ours, + By marking on the heavenly vault + Our fate without mistake or fault. + That fate depends upon conjunctions + Of places, persons, times, and tracks, + And not upon the functions + Of more or less of quacks. + A king and clown beneath one planet's nod + Are born; one wields a sceptre, one a hod. + But it is Jupiter that wills it so! + And who is he?[<a href="#VIII23">23</a>] A soulless clod. + How can he cause such different powers to flow + Upon the aforesaid mortals here below? + And how, indeed, to this far distant ball + Can he impart his energy at all?-- + How pierce the ether deeps profound, + The sun and globes that whirl around? + A mote might turn his potent ray + For ever from its earthward way. + Will find, it, then, in starry cope, + The makers of the horoscope? + The war[<a href="#VIII24">24</a>] with which all Europe's now afflicted-- + Deserves it not by them to've been predicted? + Yet heard we not a whisper of it, + Before it came, from any prophet. + The suddenness of passion's gush, + Of wayward life the headlong rush,-- + Permit they that the feeble ray + Of twinkling planet, far away, + Should trace our winding, zigzag course? + And yet this planetary force, + As steady as it is unknown, + These fools would make our guide alone-- + Of all our varied life the source! + Such doubtful facts as I relate-- + The petted child's and poet's fate-- + Our argument may well admit. + The blindest man that lives in France, + The smallest mark would doubtless hit-- + Once in a thousand times--by chance. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII23">23</a>] <i>And who is he</i>?--By Jupiter, "the soulless clod," is of course + meant the planet, not the god.<br> +[<a name="VIII24">24</a>] <i>The war</i>.--See <a href="#VII30">note to Fable XVIII., Book VII</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XVII">XVII</a>.--THE ASS AND THE DOG.[<a href="#VIII25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Dame Nature, our respected mother, + Ordains that we should aid each other. + + The ass this ordinance neglected, + Though not a creature ill-affected. + Along the road a dog and he + One master follow'd silently. + Their master slept: meanwhile, the ass + Applied his nippers to the grass, + Much pleased in such a place to stop, + Though there no thistle he could crop. + He would not be too delicate, + Nor spoil a dinner for a plate, + Which, but for that, his favourite dish, + Were all that any ass could wish. + + 'My dear companion,' Towser said,-- + ''Tis as a starving dog I ask it,-- + Pray lower down your loaded basket, + And let me get a piece of bread.' + No answer--not a word!--indeed, + The truth was, our Arcadian steed[<a href="#VIII26">26</a>] + Fear'd lest, for every moment's flight, + His nimble teeth should lose a bite. + At last, 'I counsel you,' said he, 'to wait + Till master is himself awake, + Who then, unless I much mistake, + Will give his dog the usual bait.' + Meanwhile, there issued from the wood + A creature of the wolfish brood, + Himself by famine sorely pinch'd. + At sight of him the donkey flinch'd, + And begg'd the dog to give him aid. + The dog budged not, but answer made,-- + 'I counsel thee, my friend, to run, + Till master's nap is fairly done; + There can, indeed, be no mistake, + That he will very soon awake; + Till then, scud off with all your might; + And should he snap you in your flight, + This ugly wolf,--why, let him feel + The greeting of your well-shod heel. + I do not doubt, at all, but that + Will be enough to lay him flat.' + But ere he ceased it was too late; + The ass had met his cruel fate. + + Thus selfishness we reprobate. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII25">25</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="VIII26">26</a>] <i>Arcadian steed</i>.--La Fontaine has "roussin d'Arcadie." The ass + was so derisively nicknamed. See also <a href="#6XIX">Fable XIX., Book VI</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE PASHAW AND THE MERCHANT.[<a href="#VIII27">27</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A trading Greek, for want of law, + Protection bought of a pashaw; + And like a nobleman he paid, + Much rather than a man of trade-- + Protection being, Turkish-wise, + A costly sort of merchandise. + So costly was it, in this case, + The Greek complain'd, with tongue and face. + Three other Turks, of lower rank, + Would guard his substance as their own, + And all draw less upon his bank, + Than did the great pashaw alone. + The Greek their offer gladly heard, + And closed the bargain with a word. + The said pashaw was made aware, + And counsel'd, with a prudent care + These rivals to anticipate, + By sending them to heaven's gate, + As messengers to Mahomet-- + Which measure should he much delay, + Himself might go the self-same way, + By poison offer'd secretly, + Sent on, before his time, to be + Protector to such arts and trades + As flourish in the world of shades. + On this advice, the Turk--no gander-- + Behaved himself like Alexander.[<a href="#VIII28">28</a>] + Straight to the merchant's, firm and stable, + He went, and took a seat at table. + Such calm assurance there was seen, + Both in his words and in his mien, + That e'en that weasel-sighted Grecian + Could not suspect him of suspicion. + 'My friend,' said he, 'I know you've quit me, + And some think caution would befit me, + Lest to despatch me be your plan: + But, deeming you too good a man + To injure either friends or foes + With poison'd cups or secret blows, + I drown the thought, and say no more. + But, as regards the three or four + Who take my place, + I crave your grace + To listen to an apologue. + + 'A shepherd, with a single dog, + Was ask'd the reason why + He kept a dog, whose least supply + Amounted to a loaf of bread + For every day. The people said + He'd better give the animal + To guard the village seignior's hall; + For him, a shepherd, it would be + A thriftier economy + To keep small curs, say two or three, + That would not cost him half the food, + And yet for watching be as good. + The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell + If they would fight the wolf as well. + The silly shepherd, giving heed, + Cast off his dog of mastiff breed, + And took three dogs to watch his cattle, + Which ate far less, but fled in battle. + His flock such counsel lived to rue, + As doubtlessly, my friend, will you. + If wise, my aid again you'll seek--' + And so, persuaded, did the Greek. + + Not vain our tale, if it convinces + Small states that 'tis a wiser thing + To trust a single powerful king, + Than half a dozen petty princes. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII27">27</a>] Gilbert Cousin.<br> +[<a name="VIII28">28</a>] <i>Alexander</i>.--Who took the medicine presented to him by his + physician Philip, the moment after he had received a letter + announcing that that very man designed to poison him.--Arrian, L. + II. Chap. XIV.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XIX">XIX</a>.--THE USE OF KNOWLEDGE.[<a href="#VIII29">29</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Between two citizens + A controversy grew. + The one was poor, but much he knew: + The other, rich, with little sense, + Claim'd that, in point of excellence, + The merely wise should bow the knee + To all such money'd men as he. + The merely fools, he should have said; + For why should wealth hold up its head, + When merit from its side hath fled? + 'My friend,' quoth Bloated-purse, + To his reverse, + 'You think yourself considerable. + Pray, tell me, do you keep a table? + What comes of this incessant reading, + In point of lodging, clothing, feeding? + It gives one, true, the highest chamber, + One coat for June and for December, + His shadow for his sole attendant, + And hunger always in th' ascendant. + What profits he his country, too, + Who scarcely ever spends a sou-- + Will, haply, be a public charge? + Who profits more the state at large, + Than he whose luxuries dispense + Among the people wealth immense? + We set the streams of life a-flowing; + We set all sorts of trades a-going. + The spinner, weaver, sewer, vender, + And many a wearer, fair and tender, + All live and flourish on the spender-- + As do, indeed, the reverend rooks + Who waste their time in making books.' + These words, so full of impudence, + Received their proper recompense. + The man of letters held his peace, + Though much he might have said with ease. + A war avenged him soon and well; + In it their common city fell. + Both fled abroad; the ignorant, + By fortune thus brought down to want, + Was treated everywhere with scorn, + And roamed about, a wretch forlorn; + Whereas the scholar, everywhere, + Was nourish'd by the public care. + + Let fools the studious despise; + There's nothing lost by being wise. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII29">29</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XX">XX</a>.--JUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS.</h4> +<pre> + Said Jupiter, one day, + As on a cloud he lay, + 'Observing all our crimes, + Come, let us change the times, + By leasing out anew + A world whose wicked crew + Have wearied out our grace, + And cursed us to our face. + Hie hellward, Mercury; + A Fury bring to me, + The direst of the three. + Race nursed too tenderly, + This day your doom shall be!' + E'en while he spoke their fate, + His wrath began to moderate. + + O kings, with whom His will + Hath lodged our good and ill, + Your wrath and storm between + One night should intervene! + + The god of rapid wing, + And lip unfaltering, + To sunless regions sped, + And met the sisters dread. + To grim Tisiphone, + And pale Megaera, he + Preferr'd, as murderess, + Alecto, pitiless. + This choice so roused the fiend, + By Pluto's beard she swore + The human race no more + Should be by handfuls glean'd, + But in one solid mass + Th' infernal gates should pass. + But Jove, displeased with both + The Fury and her oath, + Despatched her back to hell. + And then a bolt he hurl'd, + Down on a faithless world, + Which in a desert fell. + Aim'd by a father's arm, + It caused more fear than harm. + (All fathers strike aside.) + What did from this betide? + Our evil race grew bold, + Resumed their wicked tricks, + Increased them manifold, + Till, all Olympus through, + Indignant murmurs flew. + When, swearing by the Styx, + The sire that rules the air + Storms promised to prepare + More terrible and dark, + Which should not miss their mark. + 'A father's wrath it is!' + The other deities + All in one voice exclaim'd; + 'And, might the thing be named, + Some other god would make + Bolts better for our sake.' + This Vulcan undertook. + His rumbling forges shook, + And glow'd with fervent heat, + While Cyclops blew and beat. + Forth, from the plastic flame + Two sorts of bolts there came. + Of these, one misses not: + 'Tis by Olympus shot,-- + That is, the gods at large. + The other, bearing wide, + Hits mountain-top or side, + Or makes a cloud its targe. + And this it is alone + Which leaves the father's throne. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXI">XXI</a>.--THE FALCON AND THE CAPON.[<a href="#VIII30">30</a>]</h4> +<pre> + You often hear a sweet seductive call: + If wise, you haste towards it not at all;-- + And, if you heed my apologue, + You act like John de Nivelle's dog.[<a href="#VIII31">31</a>] + + A capon, citizen of Mans, + Was summon'd from a throng + To answer to the village squire, + Before tribunal call'd the fire. + The matter to disguise + The kitchen sheriff wise + Cried, 'Biddy--Biddy--Biddy!--' + But not a moment did he-- + This Norman and a half[<a href="#VIII32">32</a>]-- + The smooth official trust. + 'Your bait,' said he, 'is dust, + And I'm too old for chaff.' + Meantime, a falcon, on his perch, + Observed the flight and search. + In man, by instinct or experience, + The capons have so little confidence, + That this was not without much trouble caught, + Though for a splendid supper sought. + To lie, the morrow night, + In brilliant candle-light, + Supinely on a dish + 'Midst viands, fowl, and fish, + With all the ease that heart could wish-- + This honour, from his master kind, + The fowl would gladly have declined. + Outcried the bird of chase, + As in the weeds he eyed the skulker's face, + 'Why, what a stupid, blockhead race!-- + Such witless, brainless fools + Might well defy the schools. + For me, I understand + To chase at word + The swiftest bird, + Aloft, o'er sea or land; + At slightest beck, + Returning quick + To perch upon my master's hand. + There, at his window he appears-- + He waits thee--hasten--hast no ears?' + 'Ah! that I have,' the fowl replied; + 'But what from master might betide? + Or cook, with cleaver at his side? + Return you may for such a call, + But let me fly their fatal hall; + And spare your mirth at my expense: + Whate'er I lack, 'tis not the sense + To know that all this sweet-toned breath + Is spent to lure me to my death. + If you had seen upon the spit + As many of the falcons roast + As I have of the capon host, + You would, not thus reproach my wit.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII30">30</a>] In the Bidpaii Fables it is "The Falcon and the Cock."<br> +[<a name="VIII31">31</a>] <i>John de Nivelle's dog</i>.--A dog which, according to the French + proverb, ran away when his master called him.--Translator.<br> +[<a name="VIII32">32</a>] <i>This Norman and a half</i>.--Though the Normans are proverbial + for their shrewdness, the French have, nevertheless, a proverb that + they come to Paris to be hanged. Hence La Fontaine makes his capon, + who knew how to shun a similar fate, <i>le Normand et demi</i>--the + Norman and a half.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXII">XXII</a>.--THE CAT AND THE RAT.[<a href="#VIII33">33</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Four creatures, wont to prowl,-- + Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the cat, + Grave Evil-bode, the owl, + Thief Nibble-stitch, the rat, + And Madam Weasel, prim and fine,-- + Inhabited a rotten pine. + A man their home discover'd there, + And set, one night, a cunning snare. + The cat, a noted early-riser, + Went forth, at break of day, + To hunt her usual prey. + Not much the wiser + For morning's feeble ray, + The noose did suddenly surprise her. + Waked by her strangling cry, + Grey Nibble-stitch drew nigh: + As full of joy was he + As of despair was she, + For in the noose he saw + His foe of mortal paw. + 'Dear friend,' said Mrs. Grab-and-Snatch, + 'Do, pray, this cursed cord detach. + I've always known your skill, + And often your good-will; + Now help me from this worst of snares, + In which I fell at unawares. + 'Tis by a sacred right, + You, sole of all your race, + By special love and grace, + Have been my favourite-- + The darling of my eyes. + 'Twas order'd by celestial cares, + No doubt; I thank the blessed skies, + That, going out to say my prayers, + As cats devout each morning do, + This net has made me pray to you. + Come, fall to work upon the cord.' + Replied the rat, 'And what reward + Shall pay me, if I dare?' + 'Why,' said the cat, 'I swear + To be your firm ally: + Henceforth, eternally, + These powerful claws are yours, + Which safe your life insures. + I'll guard from quadruped and fowl; + I'll eat the weasel and the owl.' + 'Ah,' cried the rat, 'you fool! + I'm quite too wise to be your tool.' + He said, and sought his snug retreat, + Close at the rotten pine-tree's feet. + Where plump he did the weasel meet; + Whom shunning by a happy dodge, + He climb'd the hollow trunk to lodge; + And there the savage owl he saw. + Necessity became his law, + And down he went, the rope to gnaw. + Strand after strand in two he bit, + And freed, at last, the hypocrite. + That moment came the man in sight; + The new allies took hasty flight. + + A good while after that, + Our liberated cat + Espied her favourite rat, + Quite out of reach, and on his guard. + 'My friend,' said she, 'I take your shyness hard; + Your caution wrongs my gratitude; + Approach, and greet your staunch ally. + Do you suppose, dear rat, that I + Forget the solemn oath I mew'd?' + 'Do I forget,' the rat replied, + 'To what your nature is allied? + To thankfulness, or even pity, + Can cats be ever bound by treaty?' + + Alliance from necessity + Is safe just while it has to be. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII33">33</a>] Another rendering of "The Rat and the Cat" of the Bidpaii + collection. See <a href="#7XVI">Fable XVI., Book VII</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXIII">XXIII</a>.--THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER.[<a href="#VIII34">34</a>]</h4> +<pre> + With mighty rush and roar, + Adown a mountain steep + A torrent tumbled,--swelling o'er + Its rugged banks,--and bore + Vast ruin in its sweep. + The traveller were surely rash + To brave its whirling, foaming dash, + But one, by robbers sorely press'd, + Its terrors haply put to test. + They were but threats of foam and sound, + The loudest where the least profound. + With courage from his safe success, + His foes continuing to press, + He met a river in his course: + On stole its waters, calm and deep, + So silently they seem'd asleep, + All sweetly cradled, as I ween, + In sloping banks, and gravel clean,-- + They threaten'd neither man nor horse. + Both ventured; but the noble steed, + That saved from robbers by his speed, + From that deep water could not save; + Both went to drink the Stygian wave; + Both went to cross, (but not to swim,) + Where reigns a monarch stern and grim, + Far other streams than ours. + + Still men are men of dangerous powers; + Elsewhere, 'tis only ignorance that cowers. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII34">34</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXIV">XXIV</a>.--EDUCATION.</h4> +<pre> + Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended + From dogs by Fame the most commended, + Who falling, in their puppyhood, + To different masters anciently, + One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood; + From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. + At first, each had another name; + But, by their bringing up, it came, + While one improved upon his nature, + The other grew a sordid creature, + Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, + The name ungracious ever stuck. + To high exploits his brother grew, + Put many a stag at bay, and tore + Full many a trophy from the boar; + In short, him first, of all his crew, + The world as Caesar knew; + And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, + His noble blood should e'er degenerate. + Not so with his neglected brother; + He made whatever came a mother; + And, by the laws of population, + His race became a countless nation-- + The common turnspits throughout France-- + Where danger is, they don't advance-- + Precisely the antipodes + Of what we call the Caesars, these! + + Oft falls the son below his sire's estate: + Through want of care all things degenerate. + For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts. + What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts! +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXV">XXV</a>.--THE TWO DOGS AND THE DEAD ASS.[<a href="#VIII35">35</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The Virtues should be sisters, hand in hand, + Since banded brothers all the Vices stand: + When one of these our hearts attacks, + All come in file; there only lacks, + From out the cluster, here and there, + A mate of some antagonizing pair, + That can't agree the common roof to share. + But all the Virtues, as a sisterhood, + Have scarcely ever in one subject stood. + We find one brave, but passionate; + Another prudent, but ingrate. + Of beasts, the dog may claim to be + The pattern of fidelity; + But, for our teaching little wiser, + He's both a fool and gormandiser. + For proof, I cite two mastiffs, that espied + A dead ass floating on a water wide. + The distance growing more and more, + Because the wind the carcass bore,-- + 'My friend,' said one, 'your eyes are best; + Pray let them on the water rest: + What thing is that I seem to see? + An ox, or horse? what can it be?' + 'Hey!' cried his mate; 'what matter which, + Provided we could get a flitch? + It doubtless is our lawful prey: + The puzzle is to find some way + To get the prize; for wide the space + To swim, with wind against your face.[<a href="#VIII36">36</a>] + Let's drink the flood; our thirsty throats + Will gain the end as well as boats. + The water swallow'd, by and bye + We'll have the carcass, high and dry-- + Enough to last a week, at least.' + Both drank as some do at a feast; + Their breath was quench'd before their thirst, + And presently the creatures burst! + + And such is man. Whatever he + May set his soul to do or be, + To him is possibility? + How many vows he makes! + How many steps he takes! + How does he strive, and pant, and strain, + Fortune's or Glory's prize to gain! + If round my farm off well I must, + Or fill my coffers with the dust, + Or master Hebrew, science, history,-- + I make my task to drink the sea. + One spirit's projects to fulfil, + Four bodies would require; and still + The work would stop half done; + The lives of four Methuselahs, + Placed end to end for use, alas! + Would not suffice the wants of one. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII35">35</a>] Aesop; also Lokman.<br> +[<a name="VIII36">36</a>] <i>With the wind against your face</i>.--Did La Fontaine, to enhance + the folly of these dogs, make them bad judges of the course of the + wind, or did he forget what he had said a few lines + above?--Translator.</p> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXVI">XXVI</a>.--DEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OF ABDERA.</h4> +<pre> + How do I hate the tide of vulgar thought! + Profane, unjust, with childish folly fraught; + It breaks and bends the rays of truth divine, + And by its own conceptions measures mine. + Famed Epicurus' master[<a href="#VIII37">37</a>] tried + The power of this unstable tide. + His country said the sage was mad-- + The simpletons! But why? + No prophet ever honour had + Beneath his native sky. + Democritus, in truth, was wise; + The mass were mad, with faith in lies. + So far this error went, + That all Abdera sent + To old Hippocrates + To cure the sad disease. + 'Our townsman,' said the messengers, + Appropriately shedding tears, + 'Hath lost his wits! Democritus, + By study spoil'd, is lost to us. + Were he but fill'd with ignorance, + We should esteem him less a dunce. + He saith that worlds like this exist, + An absolutely endless list,-- + And peopled, even, it may be, + With countless hosts as wise as we! + But, not contented with such dreams, + His brain with viewless "atoms" teems, + Instinct with deathless life, it seems. + And, never stirring from the sod below, + He weighs and measures all the stars; + And, while he knows the universe, + Himself he doth not know. + Though now his lips he strictly bars, + He once delighted to converse. + Come, godlike mortal, try thy art divine + Where traits of worst insanity combine!' + Small faith the great physician lent, + But still, perhaps more readily, he went. + And mark what meetings strange + Chance causes in this world of change! + Hippocrates arrived in season, + Just as his patient (void of reason!) + Was searching whether reason's home, + In talking animals and dumb, + Be in the head, or in the heart, + Or in some other local part. + All calmly seated in the shade, + Where brooks their softest music made, + He traced, with study most insane, + The convolutions of a brain; + And at his feet lay many a scroll-- + The works of sages on the soul. + Indeed, so much absorb'd was he, + His friend, at first, he did not see. + A pair so admirably match'd, + Their compliments erelong despatch'd. + In time and talk, as well as dress, + The wise are frugal, I confess. + Dismissing trifles, they began + At once with eagerness to scan + The life, and soul, and laws of man; + Nor stopp'd till they had travell'd o'er all + The ground, from, physical to moral. + My time and space would fail + To give the full detail. + + But I have said enough to show + How little 'tis the people know. + How true, then, goes the saw abroad-- + Their voice is but the voice of God? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII37">37</a>] <i>Epicurus' master</i>.--Democritus and Epicurus lived about a + century apart. The latter was disciple to the former only because in + early life he adopted some of Democritus's philosophy. Later + Epicurus rejected more than he accepted of what his "master" taught.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="8XXVII">XXVII</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE HUNTER.[<a href="#VIII38">38</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Thou lust of gain,--foul fiend, whose evil eyes + Regard as nought the blessings of the skies, + Must I for ever battle thee in vain? + How long demandest thou to gain + The meaning of my lessons plain? + Will constant getting never cloy? + Will man ne'er slacken to enjoy? + Haste, friend; thou hast not long to live: + Let me the precious word repeat, + And listen to it, I entreat; + A richer lesson none can give-- + The sovereign antidote for sorrow-- + ENJOY!--'I will.'--But when?--'To-morrow.--' + Ah! death may take you on the way, + Why not enjoy, I ask, to-day? + Lest envious fate your hopes ingulf, + As once it served the hunter and the wolf. + + The former, with his fatal bow, + A noble deer had laid full low: + A fawn approach'd, and quickly lay + Companion of the dead, + For side by side they bled. + Could one have wished a richer prey? + Such luck had been enough to sate + A hunter wise and moderate. + Meantime a boar, as big as e'er was taken, + Our archer tempted, proud, and fond of bacon. + Another candidate for Styx, + Struck by his arrow, foams and kicks. + But strangely do the shears of Fate + To cut his cable hesitate. + Alive, yet dying, there he lies, + A glorious and a dangerous prize. + And was not this enough? Not quite, + To fill a conqueror's appetite; + For, ere the boar was dead, he spied + A partridge by a furrow's side-- + A trifle to his other game. + Once more his bow he drew; + The desperate boar upon him came, + And in his dying vengeance slew: + The partridge thank'd him as she flew. + + Thus much is to the covetous address'd; + The miserly shall have the rest. + + A wolf, in passing, saw that woeful sight. + 'O Fortune,' cried the savage, with delight, + 'A fane to thee I'll build outright! + 'Four carcasses! how rich! But spare-- + 'I'll make them last--such luck is rare,' + (The miser's everlasting plea.) + 'They'll last a month for--let me see-- + One, two, three, four--the weeks are four + If I can count--and some days more. + Well, two days hence + And I'll commence. + Meantime, the string upon this bow + I'll stint myself to eat; + For by its mutton-smell I know + 'Tis made of entrails sweet.' + His entrails rued the fatal weapon, + Which, while he heedlessly did step on, + The arrow pierced his bowels deep, + And laid him lifeless on the heap. + + Hark, stingy souls! insatiate leeches! + Our text this solemn duty teaches,-- + Enjoy the present; do not wait + To share the wolf's or hunter's fate. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="VIII38">38</a>] Bidpaii; and the <i>Hitopadesa</i>. See extract from Sir William + Jones's translation of the latter in Translator's Preface.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="IX">BOOK</a> IX.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="9I">I</a>.--THE FAITHLESS DEPOSITARY.[<a href="#IX1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Thanks to Memory's daughters nine, + Animals have graced my line: + Higher heroes in my story + Might have won me less of glory. + Wolves, in language of the sky, + Talk with dogs throughout my verse; + Beasts with others shrewdly vie, + Representing characters; + Fools in furs not second-hand, + Sages, hoof'd or feather'd, stand: + Fewer truly are the latter, + More the former--ay, and fatter. + Flourish also in my scene + Tyrants, villains, mountebanks, + Beasts incapable of thanks, + Beasts of rash and reckless pranks, + Beasts of sly and flattering mien; + Troops of liars, too, I ween. + As to men, of every age, + All are liars, saith the sage. + Had he writ but of the low, + One could hardly think it so; + But that human mortals, all, + Lie like serpents, great and small, + Had another certified it, + I, for one, should have denied it. + He who lies in Aesop's way, + Or like Homer, minstrel gray, + Is no liar, sooth to say. + Charms that bind us like a dream, + Offspring of their happy art, + Cloak'd in fiction, more than seem + Truth to offer to the heart. + Both have left us works which I + Think unworthy e'er to die. + Liar call not him who squares + All his ends and aims with theirs; + But from sacred truth to vary, + Like the false depositary, + Is to be, by every rule + Both a liar and a fool. + The story goes: + + A man of trade, + In Persia, with his neighbour made + Deposit, as he left the state, + Of iron, say a hundredweight. + Return'd, said he, 'My iron, neighbour.' + 'Your iron! you have lost your labour; + I grieve to say it,--'pon my soul, + A rat has eaten up the whole. + My men were sharply scolded at, + But yet a hole, in spite of that, + Was left, as one is wont to be + In every barn or granary, + By which crept in that cursed rat.' + Admiring much the novel thief, + The man affected full belief. + Ere long, his faithless neighbour's child + He stole away,--a heavy lad,-- + And then to supper bade the dad, + Who thus plead off in accents sad:-- + 'It was but yesterday I had + A boy as fine as ever smiled, + An only son, as dear as life, + The darling of myself and wife. + Alas! we have him now no more, + And every joy with us is o'er.' + Replied the merchant, 'Yesternight, + By evening's faint and dusky ray, + I saw a monstrous owl alight, + And bear your darling son away + To yonder tott'ring ruin gray.' + 'Can I believe you, when you say + An owl bore off: so large a prey? + How could it be?' the father cried; + 'The thing is surely quite absurd; + My son with ease had kill'd the bird.' + 'The how of it,' the man replied, + 'Is not my province to decide; + I know I saw your son arise, + Borne through, the air before my eyes. + Why should it seem a strange affair, + Moreover, in a country where + A single rat contrives to eat + A hundred pounds of iron meat, + That owls should be of strength to lift ye + A booby boy that weighs but fifty?' + The other plainly saw the trick, + Restored the iron very quick. + And got, with shame as well as joy, + Possession of his kidnapp'd boy. + + The like occurr'd two travellers between. + One was of those + Who wear a microscope, I ween, + Each side the nose. + Would you believe their tales romantic, + Our Europe, in its monsters, beats + The lands that feel the tropic heats, + Surcharged with all that is gigantic. + This person, feeling free + To use the trope hyperbole, + Had seen a cabbage with his eyes + Exceeding any house in size. + 'And I have seen,' the other cries, + Resolved to leave his fellow in the lurch, + 'A pot that would have held a church. + Why, friend, don't give that doubting look,-- + The pot was made your cabbages to cook.' + This pot-discov'rer was a wit; + The iron-monger, too, was wise. + To such absurd and ultra lies + Their answers were exactly fit. + 'Twere doing honour overmuch, + To reason or dispute with such. + To overbid them is the shortest path, + And less provocative of wrath. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX1">1</a>] Bidpaii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9II">II</a>.--THE TWO DOVES.[<a href="#IX2">2</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two doves once cherish'd for each other + The love that brother hath for brother. + But one, of scenes domestic tiring, + To see the foreign world aspiring, + Was fool enough to undertake + A journey long, o'er land and lake. + 'What plan is this?' the other cried; + 'Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side? + This absence is the worst of ills; + Thy heart may bear, but me it kills. + Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care, + Of which all travellers tell, + Your courage somewhat quell. + Still, if the season later were-- + O wait the zephyrs!--hasten not-- + Just now the raven, on his oak, + In hoarser tones than usual spoke. + My heart forebodes the saddest lot,-- + The falcons, nets--Alas, it rains! + My brother, are thy wants supplied-- + Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide, + And all that unto health pertains?' + These words occasion'd some demur + In our imprudent traveller. + But restless curiosity + Prevail'd at last; and so said he,-- + 'The matter is not worth a sigh; + Three days, at most, will satisfy, + And then, returning, I shall tell + You all the wonders that befell,-- + With scenes enchanting and sublime + Shall sweeten all our coming time. + Who seeth nought, hath nought to say. + My travel's course, from day to day, + Will be the source of great delight. + A store of tales I shall relate,-- + Say there I lodged at such a date, + And saw there such and such a sight. + You'll think it all occurr'd to you.--' + On this, both, weeping, bade adieu. + Away the lonely wanderer flew.-- + A thunder-cloud began to lower; + He sought, as shelter from the shower, + The only tree that graced the plain, + Whose leaves ill turn'd the pelting rain. + The sky once more serene above, + On flew our drench'd and dripping dove, + And dried his plumage as he could. + Next, on the borders of a wood, + He spied some scatter'd grains of wheat, + Which one, he thought, might safely eat; + For there another dove he saw.-- + He felt the snare around him draw! + This wheat was but a treacherous bait + To lure poor pigeons to their fate. + The snare had been so long in use, + With beak and wings he struggled loose: + Some feathers perish'd while it stuck; + But, what was worst in point of luck, + A hawk, the cruellest of foes, + Perceived him clearly as he rose, + Off dragging, like a runaway, + A piece of string. The bird of prey + Had bound him, in a moment more, + Much faster than he was before, + But from the clouds an eagle came, + And made the hawk himself his game. + By war of robbers profiting, + The dove for safety plied the wing, + And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, + Believed his dangers ended all. + A roguish boy had there a sling, + (Age pitiless! + We must confess,) + And, by a most unlucky fling, + Half kill'd our hapless dove; + Who now, no more in love + With foreign travelling, + And lame in leg and wing, + Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, + Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, + In truly sad and piteous plight. + The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, + What pleasure might their pains repay. + Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?-- + Pray, let it not be far from home. + To each the other ought to be + A world of beauty ever new; + In each the other ought to see + The whole of what is good and true. + + Myself have loved; nor would I then, + For all the wealth of crownèd men, + Or arch celestial, paved with gold, + The presence of those woods have sold, + And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which + Were by the joyful steps made rich, + And smiled beneath the charming eyes + Of her who made my heart a prize-- + To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, + And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath. + Ah, when will time such moments bring again? + To me are sweet and charming objects vain-- + My soul forsaking to its restless mood? + O, did my wither'd heart but dare + To kindle for the bright and good, + Should not I find the charm still there? + Is love, to me, with things that were? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX2">2</a>] Bidpaii. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's + very best. See Translator's Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9III">III</a>.--THE MONKEY AND THE LEOPARD.[<a href="#IX3">3</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A monkey and a leopard were + The rivals at a country fair. + Each advertised his own attractions. + Said one, 'Good sirs, the highest place + My merit knows; for, of his grace, + The king hath seen me face to face; + And, judging by his looks and actions, + I gave the best of satisfactions. + When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, + My skin will make his royal muff. + So richly is it streak'd and spotted, + So delicately waved and dotted, + Its various beauty cannot fail to please.' + And, thus invited, everybody sees; + But soon they see, and soon depart. + The monkey's show-bill to the mart + His merits thus sets forth the while, + All in his own peculiar style:-- + 'Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come; + In magic arts I am at home. + The whole variety in which + My neighbour boasts himself so rich, + Is to his simple skin confined, + While mine is living in the mind. + Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille, + The son-in-law to Tickleville, + Pope's monkey, and of great renown, + Is now just freshly come to town, + Arrived in three bateaux, express, + Your worships to address; + For he can speak, you understand; + Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand; + Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks; + In short, can do a thousand tricks; + And all for blancos six--[<a href="#IX4">4</a>] + Not, messieurs, for a sou. + And, if you think the price won't do, + When you have seen, then he'll restore + Each man his money at the door.' + + The ape was not to reason blind; + For who in wealth of dress can find + Such charms as dwell in wealth of mind? + One meets our ever-new desires, + The other in a moment tires. + + Alas! how many lords there are, + Of mighty sway and lofty mien, + Who, like this leopard at the fair, + Show all their talents on the skin! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX3">3</a>] Aesop; also Avianus.<br> +[<a name="IX4">4</a>] <i>Blancos six.</i>--The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which + were equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present + English money.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9IV">IV</a>.--THE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN.</h4> +<pre> + God's works are good. This truth to prove + Around the world I need not move; + I do it by the nearest pumpkin. + 'This fruit so large, on vine so small,' + Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin-- + 'What could He mean who made us all? + He's left this pumpkin out of place. + If I had order'd in the case, + Upon that oak it should have hung-- + A noble fruit as ever swung + To grace a tree so firm and strong. + Indeed, it was a great mistake, + As this discovery teaches, + That I myself did not partake + His counsels whom my curate preaches. + All things had then in order come; + This acorn, for example, + Not bigger than my thumb, + Had not disgraced a tree so ample. + The more I think, the more I wonder + To see outraged proportion's laws, + And that without the slightest cause; + God surely made an awkward blunder.' + With such reflections proudly fraught, + Our sage grew tired of mighty thought, + And threw himself on Nature's lap, + Beneath an oak,--to take his nap. + Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, + An acorn fell: he waked, and in + The matted beard that graced his chin, + He found the cause of such a bruise + As made him different language use. + 'O! O!' he cried; 'I bleed! I bleed! + And this is what has done the deed! + But, truly, what had been my fate, + Had this had half a pumpkin's weight! + I see that God had reasons good, + And all his works well understood.' + Thus home he went in humbler mood.[<a href="#IX5">5</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX5">5</a>] This fable was much admired by Madame de Sévigné. See Translator's + Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9V">V</a>.--THE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN.</h4> +<pre> + A boy who savour'd of his school,-- + A double rogue and double fool,-- + By youth and by the privilege + Which pedants have, by ancient right, + To alter reason, and abridge,-- + A neighbour robb'd, with fingers light, + Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had, + Of fruits that make the autumn glad, + The very best--and none but he. + Each season brought, from plant and tree, + To him its tribute; for, in spring, + His was the brightest blossoming. + One day, he saw our hopeful lad + Perch'd on the finest tree he had, + Not only stuffing down the fruit, + But spoiling, like a Vandal brute, + The buds that play advance-courier + Of plenty in the coming year. + The branches, too, he rudely tore, + And carried things to such a pass, + The owner sent his servant o'er + To tell the master of his class. + The latter came, and came attended + By all the urchins of his school, + And thus one plunderer's mischief mended + By pouring in an orchard-full. + It seems the pedant was intent + On making public punishment, + To teach his boys the force of law, + And strike their roguish hearts with awe. + The use of which he first must show + From Virgil and from Cicero, + And many other ancients noted, + From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted. + So long, indeed, his lecture lasted, + While not a single urchin fasted, + That, ere its close, their thievish crimes + Were multiplied a hundred times. + + I hate all eloquence and reason + Expended plainly out of season. + Of all the beasts that earth have cursed + While they have fed on't, + The school-boy strikes me as the worst-- + Except the pedant. + The better of these neighbours two + For me, I'm sure, would never do. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9VI">VI</a>.--THE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER.</h4> +<pre> + A block of marble was so fine, + To buy it did a sculptor hasten. + 'What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine-- + A god, a table, or a basin?' + + 'A god,' said he, 'the thing shall be; + I'll arm it, too, with thunder. + Let people quake, and bow the knee + With reverential wonder.' + + So well the cunning artist wrought + All things within a mortal's reach, + That soon the marble wanted nought + Of being Jupiter, but speech. + + Indeed, the man whose skill did make + Had scarcely laid his chisel down, + Before himself began to quake, + And fear his manufacture's frown. + + And even this excess of faith + The poet once scarce fell behind, + The hatred fearing, and the wrath, + Of gods the product of his mind. + + This trait we see in infancy + Between the baby and its doll, + Of wax or china, it may be-- + A pocket stuff'd, or folded shawl. + + Imagination rules the heart: + And here we find the fountain head + From whence the pagan errors start, + That o'er the teeming nations spread. + + With violent and flaming zeal, + Each takes his own chimera's part; + Pygmalion[<a href="#IX6">6</a>] doth a passion feel + For Venus chisel'd by his art. + + All men, as far as in them lies, + Create realities of dreams. + To truth our nature proves but ice; + To falsehood, fire it seems. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX6">6</a>] <i>Pygmalion</i>.--The poet here takes an erroneous view of the story + of Pygmalion. That sculptor fell in love with his statue of the nymph + Galatea, to which Venus gave life at his request. See Ovid, + <i>Metam</i>. Book X.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9VII">VII</a>.--THE MOUSE METAMORPHOSED INTO A MAID.[<a href="#IX7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A mouse once from an owl's beak fell; + I'd not have pick'd it up, I wis; + A Brahmin did it: very well; + Each country has its prejudice. + The mouse, indeed, was sadly bruised. + Although, as neighbours, we are used + To be more kind to many others, + The Brahmins treat the mice as brothers. + The notion haunts their heads, that when + The soul goes forth from dying men, + It enters worm, or bird, or beast, + As Providence or Fate is pleased; + And on this mystery rests their law, + Which from Pythagoras they're said to draw. + And hence the Brahmin kindly pray'd + To one who knew the wizard's trade, + To give the creature, wounded sore, + The form in which it lodged before. + Forthwith the mouse became a maid, + Of years about fifteen; + A lovelier was never seen. + She would have waked, I ween, + In Priam's son, a fiercer flame + Than did the beauteous Grecian dame. + Surprised at such a novelty, + The Brahmin to the damsel cried, + 'Your choice is free; + For every he + Will seek you for his bride.' + Said she, 'Am I to have a voice? + The strongest, then, shall be my choice.' + 'O sun!' the Brahmin cried, 'this maid is thine, + And thou shalt be a son-in-law of mine.' + 'No,' said the sun, 'this murky cloud, it seems, + In strength exceeds me, since he hides my beams; + And him I counsel you to take.' + Again the reverend Brahmin spake-- + 'O cloud, on-flying with thy stores of water, + Pray wast thou born to wed my daughter?' + 'Ah, no, alas! for, you may see, + The wind is far too strong for me. + My claims with Boreas' to compare, + I must confess, I do not dare.' + 'O wind,' then cried the Brahmin, vex'd, + And wondering what would hinder next,-- + 'Approach, and, with thy sweetest air, + Embrace--possess--the fairest fair.' + The wind, enraptured, thither blew;-- + A mountain stopp'd him as he flew, + To him now pass'd the tennis-ball, + And from him to a creature small. + Said he, 'I'd wed the maid, but that + I've had a quarrel with the rat. + A fool were I to take the bride + From one so sure to pierce my side.' + The rat! It thrill'd the damsel's ear; + To name at once seem'd sweet and dear. + The rat! 'Twas one of Cupid's blows; + The like full many a maiden knows; + But all of this beneath the rose. + + One smacketh ever of the place + Where first he show'd the world his face. + Thus far the fable's clear as light; + But, if we take a nearer sight, + There lurks within its drapery + Somewhat of graceless sophistry; + For who, that worships e'en the glorious sun, + Would not prefer to wed some cooler one? + And doth a flea's exceed a giant's might, + Because the former can the latter bite? + And, by the rule of strength, the rat + Had sent his bride to wed the cat; + From cat to dog, and onward still + To wolf or tiger, if you will: + Indeed, the fabulist might run + A circle backward to the sun.-- + But to the change the tale supposes,-- + In learned phrase, metempsychosis. + The very thing the wizard did + Its falsity exposes-- + If that indeed were ever hid. + According to the Brahmin's plan, + The proud aspiring soul of man, + And souls that dwell in humbler forms + Of rats and mice, and even worms, + All issue from a common source, + And, hence, they are the same of course.-- + Unequal but by accident + Of organ and of tenement, + They use one pair of legs, or two, + Or e'en with none contrive to do, + As tyrant matter binds them to. + Why, then, could not so fine a frame + Constrain its heavenly guest + To wed the solar flame? + A rat her love possess'd. + + In all respects, compared and weigh'd, + The souls of men and souls of mice + Quite different are made,-- + Unlike in sort as well as size. + Each fits and fills its destined part + As Heaven doth well provide; + Nor witch, nor fiend, nor magic art, + Can set their laws aside. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX7">7</a>] Bidpaii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9VIII">VIII</a>.--THE FOOL WHO SOLD WISDOM.[<a href="#IX8">8</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Of fools come never in the reach: + No rule can I more wisely teach. + Nor can there be a better one + Than this,--distemper'd heads to shun. + We often see them, high and low. + They tickle e'en the royal ear, + As, privileged and free from fear, + They hurl about them joke and jeer, + At pompous lord or silly beau. + + A fool, in town, did wisdom cry; + The people, eager, flock'd to buy. + Each for his money got, + Paid promptly on the spot, + Besides a box upon the head, + Two fathoms' length of thread. + The most were vex'd--but quite in vain + The public only mock'd their pain. + The wiser they who nothing said, + But pocketed the box and thread. + To search the meaning of the thing + Would only laughs and hisses bring. + Hath reason ever guaranteed + The wit of fools in speech or deed? + 'Tis said of brainless heads in France, + The cause of what they do is chance. + One dupe, however, needs must know + What meant the thread, and what the blow; + So ask'd a sage, to make it sure. + 'They're both hieroglyphics pure,' + The sage replied without delay; + 'All people well advised will stay + From fools this fibre's length away, + Or get--I hold it sure as fate-- + The other symbol on the pate. + So far from cheating you of gold, + The fool this wisdom fairly sold.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX8">8</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9IX">IX</a>.--THE OYSTER AND THE LITIGANTS.</h4> +<pre> + Two pilgrims on the sand espied + An oyster thrown up by the tide. + In hope, both swallow'd ocean's fruit; + But ere the fact there came dispute. + While one stoop'd down to take the prey, + The other push'd him quite away. + Said he, ''Twere rather meet + To settle which shall eat. + Why, he who first the oyster saw + Should be its eater, by the law; + The other should but see him do it.' + Replied his mate, 'If thus you view it, + Thank God the lucky eye is mine.' + 'But I've an eye not worse than thine,' + The other cried, 'and will be cursed, + If, too, I didn't see it first.' + 'You saw it, did you? Grant it true, + I saw it then, and felt it too.' + Amidst this sweet affair, + Arrived a person very big, + Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig.[<a href="#IX9">9</a>] + They made him judge,--to set the matter square. + Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, + Took up the oyster and the case: + In opening both, the first he swallow'd, + And, in due time, his judgment follow'd. + 'Attend: the court awards you each a shell + Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well.' + Foot up the cost of suits at law, + The leavings reckon and awards, + The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw, + And leave the parties--purse and cards.[<a href="#IX10">10</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX9">9</a>] <i>Sir Nincom Periwig</i>.--The name in La Fontaine is Perrin Dandin, + which is also that of the peasant judge in Rabelais (Book III., ch. + 41), and the judge in Racine's "Plaideurs" (produced in 1668). + Molière's "George Dandin" (produced 1664), may also have helped La + Fontaine to the name. The last-mentioned character is a farmer, but, + like the others, he is a species of incapable; and the word dandin in + the old French dictionaries is given as signifying inaptness or + incapacity.<br> +[<a name="IX10">10</a>] The oyster and lawyer story is also treated in <a href="#1XXI">Fable XXI., Book I.</a> + (<i>The Hornet and the Bees</i>).</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9X">X</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG.[<a href="#IX11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A troutling, some time since,[<a href="#IX12">12</a>] + Endeavour'd vainly to convince + A hungry fisherman + Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. + That controversy made it plain + That letting go a good secure, + In hope of future gain, + Is but imprudence pure. + The fisherman had reason good-- + The troutling did the best he could-- + Both argued for their lives. + Now, if my present purpose thrives, + I'll prop my former proposition + By building on a small addition. + A certain wolf, in point of wit + The prudent fisher's opposite, + A dog once finding far astray, + Prepared to take him as his prey. + The dog his leanness pled; + 'Your lordship, sure,' he said, + 'Cannot be very eager + To eat a dog so meagre. + To wait a little do not grudge: + The wedding of my master's only daughter + Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter; + And then, as you yourself can judge, + I cannot help becoming fatter.' + The wolf, believing, waived the matter, + And so, some days therefrom, + Return'd with sole design to see + If fat enough his dog might be. + The rogue was now at home: + He saw the hunter through the fence. + 'My friend,' said he, 'please wait; + I'll be with you a moment hence, + And fetch our porter of the gate.' + This porter was a dog immense, + That left to wolves no future tense. + Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,-- + It might not be so safely tamper'd. + 'My service to your porter dog,' + Was his reply, as off he scamper'd. + His legs proved better than his head, + And saved him life to learn his trade. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX11">11</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="IX12">12</a>] <i>A troutling</i>.--See <a href="#5III">Book V., Fable III</a>.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XI">XI</a>.--NOTHING TOO MUCH.[<a href="#IX13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Look where we will throughout creation, + We look in vain for moderation. + There is a certain golden mean, + Which Nature's sovereign Lord, I ween, + Design'd the path of all forever. + Doth one pursue it? Never. + E'en things which by their nature bless, + Are turn'd to curses by excess. + + The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, + Green waving in the genial air, + By overgrowth exhausts the soil; + By superfluity of leaves + Defrauds the treasure of its sheaves, + And mocks the busy farmer's toil. + Not less redundant is the tree, + So sweet a thing is luxury. + The grain within due bounds to keep, + Their Maker licenses the sheep + The leaves excessive to retrench. + In troops they spread across the plain, + And, nibbling down the hapless grain, + Contrive to spoil it, root and branch. + So, then, with, licence from on high, + The wolves are sent on sheep to prey; + The whole the greedy gluttons slay; + Or, if they don't, they try. + + Next, men are sent on wolves to take + The vengeance now condign: + In turn the same abuse they make + Of this behest divine. + + Of animals, the human kind + Are to excess the most inclined. + On low and high we make the charge,-- + Indeed, upon the race at large. + There liveth not the soul select + That sinneth not in this respect. + Of "Nought too much," the fact is, + All preach the truth,--none practise. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX13">13</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XII">XII</a>.--THE WAX-CANDLE.[<a href="#IX14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. + On Mount Hymettus,[<a href="#IX15">15</a>] first, they say, + They made their home, and stored away + The treasures which the zephyrs fan. + When men had robb'd these daughters of the sky, + And left their palaces of nectar dry,-- + Or, as in French the thing's explain'd + When hives were of their honey drain'd-- + The spoilers 'gan the wax to handle, + And fashion'd from it many a candle. + Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire, + Remain uninjured by the teeth of time, + Was kindled into great desire + For immortality sublime. + And so this new Empedocles[<a href="#IX16">16</a>] + Upon the blazing pile one sees, + Self-doom'd by purest folly + To fate so melancholy. + The candle lack'd philosophy: + All things are made diverse to be. + To wander from our destined tracks-- + There cannot be a vainer wish; + But this Empedocles of wax, + That melted in the chafing-dish, + Was truly not a greater fool + Than he of whom we read at school. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX14">14</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="IX15">15</a>] <i>Mount Hymettus</i>.--This was the mountain whence the Greeks got + fine honey.<br> +[<a name="IX16">16</a>] <i>Empedocles</i>.--A Pythagorean philosopher who asserted that he + had been, before becoming a man, a girl, a boy, a shrub, a bird, and + a fish. He is further credited with the vanity of wishing to be + thought a god, and hence of throwing himself into Mount Etna to + conceal his death. Unfortunately for the success of this scheme, + says one story, he convicted himself of suicide by inadvertently + leaving his slippers at the foot of the volcano.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XIII">XIII</a>.--JUPITER AND THE PASSENGER.[<a href="#IX17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + How danger would the gods enrich, + If we the vows remember'd which + It drives us to! But, danger past, + Kind Providence is paid the last. + No earthly debt is treated so. + 'Now, Jove,' the wretch exclaims, 'will wait; + He sends no sheriff to one's gate, + Like creditors below;' + But, let me ask the dolt, + What means the thunderbolt? + + A passenger, endanger'd by the sea, + Had vow'd a hundred oxen good + To him who quell'd old Terra's brood. + He had not one: as well might he + Have vow'd a hundred elephants. + Arrived on shore, his good intents + Were dwindled to the smoke which rose + An offering merely for the nose, + From half a dozen beefless bones. + 'Great Jove,' said he, 'behold my vow! + The fumes of beef thou breathest now + Are all thy godship ever owns: + From debt I therefore stand acquitted.' + With seeming smile, the god submitted, + But not long after caught him well, + By sending him a dream, to tell + Of treasure hid. Off ran the liar, + As if to quench a house on fire, + And on a band of robbers fell. + As but a crown he had that day, + He promised them of sterling gold + A hundred talents truly told; + Directing where conceal'd they lay, + In such a village on their way. + The rogues so much the tale suspected, + Said one, 'If we should suffer you to, + You'd cheaply get us all detected; + Go, then, and bear your gold to Pluto.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX17">17</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XIV">XIV</a>.--THE CAT AND THE FOX.</h4> +<pre> + The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage, + Together went on pilgrimage. + Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they, + By sleight of face and sleight of paw, + Regardless both of right and law, + Contrived expenses to repay, + By eating many a fowl and cheese, + And other tricks as bad as these. + Disputing served them to beguile + The road of many a weary mile. + Disputing! but for this resort, + The world would go to sleep, in short. + Our pilgrims, as a thing of course, + Disputed till their throats were hoarse. + Then, dropping to a lower tone, + They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, + Till Renard whisper'd to the cat, + 'You think yourself a knowing one: + How many cunning tricks have you? + For I've a hundred, old and new, + All ready in my haversack.' + The cat replied, 'I do not lack, + Though with but one provided; + And, truth to honour, for that matter, + I hold it than a thousand better.' + In fresh dispute they sided; + And loudly were they at it, when + Approach'd a mob of dogs and men. + 'Now,' said the cat, 'your tricks ransack, + And put your cunning brains to rack, + One life to save; I'll show you mine-- + A trick, you see, for saving nine.' + With that, she climb'd a lofty pine. + The fox his hundred ruses tried, + And yet no safety found. + A hundred times he falsified + The nose of every hound.-- + Was here, and there, and everywhere, + Above, and under ground; + But yet to stop he did not dare, + Pent in a hole, it was no joke, + To meet the terriers or the smoke. + So, leaping into upper air, + He met two dogs, that choked him there. + + Expedients may be too many, + Consuming time to choose and try. + On one, but that as good as any, + 'Tis best in danger to rely. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XV">XV</a>.--THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE THIEF.[<a href="#IX18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man that loved,--and loved his wife,-- + Still led an almost joyless life. + No tender look, nor gracious word, + Nor smile, that, coming from a bride, + Its object would have deified, + E'er told her doting lord + The love with which he burn'd + Was in its kind return'd. + Still unrepining at his lot, + This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot, + Thank'd God for all the good he got. + But why? If love doth fail to season + Whatever pleasures Hymen gives, + I'm sure I cannot see the reason + Why one for him the happier lives. + However, since his wife + Had ne'er caress'd him in her life, + He made complaint of it one night. + The entrance of a thief + Cut short his tale of grief, + And gave the lady such a fright, + She shrunk from dreaded harms + Within her husband's arms. + 'Good thief,' cried he, + 'This joy so sweet, I owe to thee: + Now take, as thy reward, + Of all that owns me lord, + Whatever suits thee save my spouse; + Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house.' + As thieves are not remarkably + O'erstock'd with modesty, + This fellow made quite free. + + From this account it doth appear, + The passions all are ruled by fear. + Aversion may be conquer'd by it, + And even love may not defy it. + But still some cases there have been + Where love hath ruled the roast, I ween. + That lover, witness, highly bred, + Who burnt his house above his head, + And all to clasp a certain dame, + And bear her harmless through the flame. + This transport through the fire, + I own, I much admire; + And for a Spanish soul, reputed coolish, + I think it grander even than 'twas foolish.[<a href="#IX19">19</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX18">18</a>] Bidpaii.<br> +[<a name="IX19">19</a>] <i>'Twas foolish.</i>--La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of + the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of + Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to + a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he + might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XVI">XVI</a>.--THE TREASURE AND THE TWO MEN.[<a href="#IX20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, + Who lodged the devil in his purse,-- + That is to say, lodged nothing there,-- + By self-suspension in the air + Concluded his accounts to square, + Since, should he not, he understood, + From various tokens, famine would-- + A death for which no mortal wight + Had ever any appetite. + A ruin, crown'd with ivy green, + Was of his tragedy the scene. + His hangman's noose he duly tied, + And then to drive a nail he tried;-- + But by his blows the wall gave way, + Now tremulous and old, + Disclosing to the light of day + A sum of hidden gold. + He clutch'd it up, and left Despair + To struggle with his halter there. + Nor did the much delighted man + E'en stop to count it as he ran. + But, while he went, the owner came, + Who loved it with a secret flame, + Too much indeed for kissing,-- + And found his money--missing! + 'O Heavens!' he cried, 'shall I + Such riches lose, and still not die? + Shall I not hang?--as I, in fact, + Might justly do if cord I lack'd; + But now, without expense, I can; + This cord here only lacks a man.' + The saving was no saving clause; + It suffer'd not his heart to falter, + Until it reach'd his final pause + As full possessor of the halter,-- + 'Tis thus the miser often grieves: + Whoe'er the benefit receives + Of what he owns, he never must-- + Mere treasurer for thieves, + Or relatives, or dust. + But what say we about the trade + In this affair by Fortune made? + Why, what but that it was just like her! + In freaks like this delighteth she. + The shorter any turn may be, + The better it is sure to strike her. + It fills that goddess full of glee + A self-suspended man to see; + And that it does especially, + When made so unexpectedly. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX20">20</a>] The story of this fable has been traced to the Epigrams of Ausonius + who was born at Bordeaux, and lived in the fourth century.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XVII">XVII</a>.--THE MONKEY AND THE CAT.</h4> +<pre> + Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, + (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) + Co-servants and lodgers: + More mischievous codgers + Ne'er mess'd from a platter, since platters were flat. + Was anything wrong in the house or about it, + The neighbours were blameless,--no mortal could doubt it; + For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice, + More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice. + One day the two plunderers sat by the fire, + Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. + To steal them would be a right noble affair. + A double inducement our heroes drew there-- + 'Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill, + And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. + Said Bertrand to Ratto, 'My brother, to-day + Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, + And take me these chestnuts, I pray. + Which were I but otherwise fitted + (As I am ingeniously witted) + For pulling things out of the flame, + Would stand but a pitiful game.' + ''Tis done,' replied Ratto, all prompt to obey; + And thrust out his paw in a delicate way. + First giving the ashes a scratch, + He open'd the coveted batch; + Then lightly and quickly impinging, + He drew out, in spite of the singeing, + One after another, the chestnuts at last,-- + While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast. + A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun. + Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one.-- + + No more are the princes, by flattery paid + For furnishing help in a different trade, + And burning their fingers to bring + More power to some mightier king.[<a href="#IX21">21</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX21">21</a>] For Madame de Sévigné's opinion of this fable, see the Translator's + Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE KITE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.[<a href="#IX22">22</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A noted thief, the kite, + Had set a neighbourhood in fright, + And raised the clamorous noise + Of all the village boys, + When, by misfortune,--sad to say,-- + A nightingale fell in his way. + Spring's herald begg'd him not to eat + A bird for music--not for meat. + 'O spare!' cried she, 'and I'll relate + 'The crime of Tereus and his fate.'-- + 'What's Tereus?[<a href="#IX23">23</a>] Is it food for kites?'-- + 'No, but a king, of female rights + The villain spoiler, whom I taught + A lesson with repentance fraught; + And, should it please you not to kill, + My song about his fall + Your very heart shall thrill, + As it, indeed, does all.'-- + Replied the kite, a 'pretty thing! + When I am faint and famishing, + To let you go, and hear you sing?'-- + 'Ah, but I entertain the king!'-- + 'Well, when he takes you, let him hear + Your tale, full wonderful, no doubt; + For me, a kite, I'll go without.' + An empty stomach hath no ear.[<a href="#IX24">24</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX22">22</a>] Abstemius; also Aesop.<br> +[<a name="IX23">23</a>] <i>What's Tereus?</i>--See story of Tereus Philomela and Progne, in + Ovid's <i>Metamorphoses</i>.--See also <a href="#3XV">Fable XV., Book III.</a>, and + <a href="#III23">Note</a>.<br> +[<a name="IX24">24</a>] <i>An empty stomach hath no ear</i>.--Cato the Censor said in one of + his speeches to the Romans, who were clamouring for a distribution + of corn, "It is a difficult task, my fellow-citizens, to speak to + the belly, because it hath no ears."--Plutarch's <i>Life of Cato</i> + (Langhorne's ed.). "The belly has no ears, nor is it to be filled + with fair words."--Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 63.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="9XIX">XIX</a>.--THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK.[<a href="#IX25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 'What! shall I lose them one by one, + This stupid coward throng? + And never shall the wolf have done? + They were at least a thousand strong, + But still they've let poor Robin[<a href="#IX26">26</a>] fall a prey! + Ah, woe's the day! + Poor Robin Wether lying dead! + He follow'd for a bit of bread + His master through the crowded city, + And would have follow'd, had he led, + Around the world. O! what a pity! + My pipe, and even step, he knew; + To meet me when I came, he flew; + In hedge-row shade we napp'd together; + Alas, alas, my Robin Wether!' + When Willy thus had duly said + His eulogy upon the dead + And unto everlasting fame + Consign'd poor Robin Wether's name, + He then harangued the flock at large, + From proud old chieftain rams + Down to the smallest lambs, + Addressing them this weighty charge,-- + Against the wolf, as one, to stand + In firm, united, fearless band, + By which they might expel him from their land. + Upon their faith, they would not flinch, + They promised him, a single inch. + 'We'll choke,' said they, 'the murderous glutton + Who robbed of us of our Robin Mutton.' + Their lives they pledged against the beast, + And Willy gave them all a feast. + But evil Fate, than Phoebus faster, + Ere night had brought a new disaster: + A wolf there came. By nature's law, + The total flock were prompt to run; + And yet 'twas not the wolf they saw, + But shadow of him from the setting sun. + + Harangue a craven soldiery, + What heroes they will seem to be! + But let them snuff the smoke of battle, + Or even hear the ramrods rattle, + Adieu to all their spunk and mettle: + Your own example will be vain, + And exhortations, to retain + The timid cattle. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="IX25">25</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="IX26">26</a>] <i>Robin</i>.--Rabelais, in his <i>Pantagruel</i>, Book IV., ch. 4, + has Robin, Robin Mouton, &c.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="X">BOOK</a> X.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="10I">I</a>.--THE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">Address to Madame de la Sablière.[<a href="#X1">1</a>] +<pre> + You, Iris, 'twere an easy task to praise; + But you refuse the incense of my lays. + In this you are unlike all other mortals, + Who welcome all the praise that seeks their portals; + Not one who is not soothed by sound so sweet. + For me to blame this humour were not meet, + By gods and mortals shared in common, + And, in the main, by lovely woman. + That drink, so vaunted by the rhyming trade, + That cheers the god who deals the thunder-blow, + And oft intoxicates the gods below,-- + The nectar, Iris, is of praises made. + You taste it not. But, in its place, + Wit, science, even trifles grace + Your bill of fare; but, for that matter, + The world will not believe the latter. + Well, leave the world in unbelief. + Still science, trifles, fancies light as air, + I hold, should mingle in a bill of fare, + Each giving each its due relief; + As, where the gifts of Flora fall, + On different flowers we see + Alight the busy bee, + Educing sweet from all. + Thus much premised, don't think it strange, + Or aught beyond my muse's range, + If e'en my fables should infold, + Among their nameless trumpery, + The traits of a philosophy + Far-famed as subtle, charming, bold. + They call it new--the men of wit; + Perhaps you have not heard of it?[<a href="#X2">2</a>] + My verse will tell you what it means:-- + They say that beasts are mere machines;[<a href="#X3">3</a>] + That, in their doings, everything + Is done by virtue of a spring-- + No sense, no soul, nor notion; + But matter merely,--set in motion, + Just such the watch in kind, + Which joggeth on, to purpose blind. + Now ope, and read within its breast-- + The place of soul is by its wheels possess'd. + One moves a second, that a third, + Till finally its sound is heard. + And now the beast, our sages say, + Is moved precisely in this way + An object strikes it in a certain place: + The spot thus struck, without a moment's space, + To neighbouring parts the news conveys; + Thus sense receives it through the chain, + And takes impression.--How? Explain.-- + Not I. They say, by sheer necessity, + From will as well as passion free, + The animal is found the thrall + Of movements which the vulgar call + Joy, sadness, pleasure, pain, and love-- + The cause extrinsic and above.-- + Believe it not. What's this I hold? + Why, sooth, it is a watch of gold-- + Its life, the mere unbending of a spring. + And we?--are quite a different thing. + Hear how Descartes--Descartes, whom all applaud, + Whom pagans would have made a god, + Who holds, in fact, the middle place + 'Twixt ours and the celestial race, + About as does the plodding ass + From man to oyster as you pass-- + Hear how this author states the case + 'Of all the tribes to being brought + By our Creator out of nought, + I only have the gift of thought.' + Now, Iris, you will recollect + We were by older science taught + That when brutes think, they don't reflect. + Descartes proceeds beyond the wall, + And says they do not think at all. + This you believe with ease; + And so could I, if I should please. + Still, in the forest, when, from morn + Till midday, sounds of dog and horn + Have terrified the stag forlorn; + When he has doubled forth and back, + And labour'd to confound his track, + Till tired and spent with efforts vain-- + An ancient stag, of antlers ten;-- + He puts a younger in his place, + All fresh, to weary out the chase.-- + What thoughts for one that merely grazes! + The doublings, turnings, windings, mazes, + The substituting fresher bait, + Were worthy of a man of state-- + And worthy of a better fate! + To yield to rascal dogs his breath + Is all the honour of his death. + And when the partridge danger spies, + Before her brood have strength to rise, + She wisely counterfeits a wound, + And drags her wing upon the ground-- + Thus, from her home, beside some ancient log, + Safe drawing off the sportsman and his dog; + And while the latter seems to seize her, + The victim of an easy chase-- + 'Your teeth are not for such as me, sir,' + She cries, + And flies, + And laughs the former in his face. + + Far north, 'tis said, the people live + In customs nearly primitive; + That is to say, are bound + In ignorance profound:-- + I mean the people human; + For animals are dwelling there + With skill such buildings to prepare + As could on earth but few men. + Firm laid across the torrent's course, + Their work withstands its mighty force, + So damming it from shore to shore, + That, gliding smoothly o'er, + In even sheets the waters pour. + Their work, as it proceeds, they grade and bevel, + Or bring it up to plumb or level; + First lay their logs, and then with mortar smear, + As if directed by an engineer. + Each labours for the public good; + The old command, the youthful brood + Cut down, and shape, and place the wood. + Compared with theirs, e'en Plato's model state + Were but the work of some apprentice pate. + Such are the beaver folks, who know + Enough to house themselves from snow, + And bridge, though they can swim, the pools. + Meanwhile, our kinsmen are such fools, + In spite of their example, + They dwell in huts less ample, + And cross the streams by swimming, + However cold and brimming! + Now that the skilful beaver, + Is but a body void of spirit, + From whomsoever I might hear it, + I would believe it never. + + But I go farther in the case. + Pray listen while I tell + A thing which lately fell + From one of truly royal race.[<a href="#X4">4</a>] + A prince beloved by Victory, + The North's defender here shall be + My voucher and your guaranty; + Whose mighty name alone + Commands the sultan's throne, + The king whom Poland calls her own. + This king declares (kings cannot lie, we hear) + That, on his own frontier, + Some animals there are; + Engaged in ceaseless war; + From age to age the quarrel runs, + Transmitted down from sires to sons; + (These beasts, he says, are to the fox akin;) + And with more skill no war hath been, + By highest military powers, + Conducted in this age of ours + Guards, piquets, scouts, and spies, + And ambuscade that hidden lies, + The foe to capture by surprise, + And many a shrewd appliance + Of that pernicious, cursed science, + The daughter of the Stygian wave, + And mother harsh of heroes brave, + Those military creatures have. + To chant their feats a bard we lack, + Till Death shall give us Homer back. + And should he such a wonder do, + And, while his hand was in, release + Old Epicurus' rival[<a href="#X5">5</a>] too, + What would the latter say to facts like these? + Why, as I've said, that nature does such things + In animals by means of springs; + That Memory is but corporeal; + And that to do the things array'd + So proudly in my story all, + The animal but needs her aid. + At each return, the object, so to speak, + Proceeds directly to her store + With keenest optics--there to seek + The image it had traced before, + Which found, proceeds forthwith to act + Just as at first it did, in fact, + By neither thought nor reason back'd. + Not so with us, beasts perpendicular; + With us kind Heaven is more particular. + Self-ruled by independent mind, + We're not the sport of objects blind, + Nor e'en to instinct are consign'd. + I walk; I talk; I feel the sway + Of power within + This nice machine, + It cannot but obey. + This power, although with matter link'd, + Is comprehended as distinct. + Indeed 'tis comprehended better + In truth and essence than is matter. + O'er all our arts it is supreme. + But how doth matter understand + Or hear its sovereign lord's command? + Here doth a difficulty seem: + I see the tool obey the hand; + But then the hand who guideth it; + Who guides the stars in order fit? + Perhaps each mighty world, + Since from its Maker hurl'd, + Some angel may have kept in custody. + However that may be, + A spirit dwells in such as we; + It moves our limbs; we feel its mandates now; + We see and know it rules, but know not how: + Nor shall we know, indeed, + Till in the breast of God we read. + And, speaking in all verity, + Descartes is just as ignorant as we; + In things beyond a mortal's ken, + He knows no more than other men. + But, Iris, I confess to this, + That in the beasts of which I speak + Such spirit it were vain to seek, + For man its only temple is. + Yet beasts must have a place + Beneath our godlike race, + Which no mere plant requires + Although the plant respires. + + But what shall one reply + To what I next shall certify? + Two rats in foraging fell on an egg,-- + For gentry such as they + A genteel dinner every way; + They needed not to find an ox's leg. + Brimful of joy and appetite, + They were about to sack the box, + So tight without the aid of locks, + When suddenly there came in sight + A personage--Sir Pullet Fox. + Sure, luck was never more untoward + Since Fortune was a vixen froward! + How should they save their egg--and bacon? + Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd; + Should it in forward paws be taken, + Or roll'd along, or dragg'd? + Each method seem'd impossible, + And each was then of danger full. + Necessity, ingenious mother, + Brought forth what help'd them from their pother. + As still there was a chance to save their prey,-- + The spunger yet some hundred yards away,-- + One seized the egg, and turn'd upon his back, + And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, + That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, + The other dragg'd him by the tail. + Who dares the inference to blink, + That beasts possess wherewith to think? + + Were I commission'd to bestow + This power on creatures here below, + The beasts should have as much of mind + As infants of the human kind. + Think not the latter, from their birth? + It hence appears there are on earth + That have the simple power of thought + Where reason hath no knowledge wrought. + And on this wise an equal power I'd yield + To all the various tenants of the field; + Not reason such as in ourselves we find, + But something more than any mainspring blind. + A speck of matter I would subtilise + Almost beyond the reach of mental eyes;-- + An atom's essence, one might say, + An extract of a solar ray, + More quick and pungent than a flame of fire,-- + For if of flame the wood is sire, + Cannot the flame, itself refined, + Give some idea of the mind? + Comes not the purest gold + From lead, as we are told? + To feel and choose, my work should soar-- + Unthinking judgment--nothing more. + No monkey of my manufacture + Should argue from his sense or fact, sure: + But my allotment to mankind + Should be of very different mind. + We men should share in double measure, + Or rather have a twofold treasure; + The one the soul, the same in all + That bear the name of animal-- + The sages, dunces, great and small, + That tenant this our teeming ball;-- + The other still another soul, + Which should to mortals here belong + In common with the angel throng; + Which, made an independent whole, + Could pierce the skies to worlds of light, + Within a point have room to be,-- + Its life a morn, sans noon or night. + Exempt from all destructive change-- + A thing as real as it is strange. + In infancy this child of day + Should glimmer but a feeble ray. + Its earthly organs stronger grown, + The beam of reason, brightly thrown, + Should pierce the darkness, thick and gross, + That holds the other prison'd close. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X1">1</a>] <i>Madame de la Sablière</i>.--See the following note; also the + Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="X2">2</a>] <i>Perhaps you have not heard of it</i>?--Madame de la Sablière was + one of the most learned women of the age in which she lived, and knew + more of the philosophy of Descartes, in which she was a believer, + than our poet; but she dreaded the reputation of a "blue-stocking," + and for this reason La Fontaine addresses her as if she might be + ignorant of the Cartesian theory.--Translator. Molière's <i>Femme + Savante</i>, the object of which was to ridicule the French + "blue-stockings," had been only recently produced upon the stage + (1672), hence Madame de la Sablière's fears, and La Fontaine's + delicate forbearance.<br> +[<a name="X3">3</a>] <i>Beasts are mere machines</i>.--At this time the discussion as to + the mind in animals was very rife in the salons of Paris. Madame de + Sévigné often alludes to it in her Letters. La Fontaine further + contends against the "mere machine" theory in <a href="#11IX">Fable IX., Book XI</a>.<br> +[<a name="X4">4</a>] <i>One of truly royal race</i>.--John Sobieski.--Translator. At the + time this was written, Sobieski's great victory over the Turks at + Choczim (1673) was resounding throughout Europe, and had made him + King of Poland (1674). Sobieski had previously been a frequent + visitor at the house of Madame de la Sablière, where La Fontaine had + often met him. Sobieski is again alluded to as a guest of Madame de + la Sablière, in <a href="#12XV">Fable XV., Book XII</a>.<br> +[<a name="X5">5</a>] <i>Old Epicurus' rival</i>.--Descartes.--Translator.</p> + +<br> +<h4><a name="10II">II</a>.--THE MAN AND THE ADDER.[<a href="#X6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 'You villain!' cried a man who found + An adder coil'd upon the ground, + 'To do a very grateful deed + For all the world, I shall proceed.' + On this the animal perverse + (I mean the snake; + Pray don't mistake + The human for the worse) + Was caught and bagg'd, and, worst of all, + His blood was by his captor to be spilt + Without regard to innocence or guilt. + Howe'er, to show the why, these words let fall + His judge and jailor, proud and tall:-- + 'Thou type of all ingratitude! + All charity to hearts like thine + Is folly, certain to be rued. + Die, then, + Thou foe of men! + Thy temper and thy teeth malign + Shall never hurt a hair of mine.' + The muffled serpent, on his side, + The best a serpent could, replied,-- + 'If all this world's ingrates + Must meet with such a death, + Who from this worst of fates + Could save his breath? + Upon thyself thy law recoils; + I throw myself upon thy broils, + Thy graceless revelling on spoils; + If thou but homeward cast an eye, + Thy deeds all mine will justify. + But strike: my life is in thy hand; + Thy justice, all may understand, + Is but thy interest, pleasure, or caprice:-- + Pronounce my sentence on such laws as these. + But give me leave to tell thee, while I can, + The type of all ingratitude is man.' + By such a lecture somewhat foil'd, + The other back a step recoil'd, + And finally replied,-- + 'Thy reasons are abusive, + And wholly inconclusive. + I might the case decide + Because to me such right belongs; + But let's refer the case of wrongs.' + The snake agreed; they to a cow referr'd it. + Who, being called, came graciously and heard it. + Then, summing up, 'What need,' said she, + 'In such a case, to call on me? + The adder's right, plain truth to bellow; + For years I've nursed this haughty fellow, + Who, but for me, had long ago + Been lodging with the shades below. + For him my milk has had to flow, + My calves, at tender age, to die. + And for this best of wealth, + And often reëstablished health, + What pay, or even thanks, have I? + Here, feeble, old, and worn, alas! + I'm left without a bite of grass. + Were I but left, it might be weather'd, + But, shame to say it, I am tether'd. + And now my fate is surely sadder + Than if my master were an adder, + With brains within the latitude + Of such immense ingratitude. + This, gentles, is my honest view; + And so I bid you both adieu.' + The man, confounded and astonish'd + To be so faithfully admonish'd, + Replied, 'What fools to listen, now, + To this old, silly, dotard cow! + Let's trust the ox.' 'Let's trust,' replied + The crawling beast, well gratified. + So said, so done; + The ox, with tardy pace, came on + And, ruminating o'er the case, + Declared, with very serious face, + That years of his most painful toil + Had clothed with Ceres' gifts our soil-- + Her gifts to men--but always sold + To beasts for higher cost than gold; + And that for this, for his reward, + More blows than thanks return'd his lord; + And then, when age had chill'd his blood, + And men would quell the wrath of Heaven, + Out must be pour'd the vital flood, + For others' sins, all thankless given. + So spake the ox; and then the man:-- + 'Away with such a dull declaimer! + Instead of judge, it is his plan + To play accuser and defamer.' + A tree was next the arbitrator, + And made the wrong of man still greater. + It served as refuge from the heat, + The showers, and storms which madly beat; + It grew our gardens' greatest pride, + Its shadow spreading far and wide, + And bow'd itself with fruit beside: + But yet a mercenary clown + With cruel iron chopp'd it down. + Behold the recompense for which, + Year after year, it did enrich, + With spring's sweet flowers, and autumn's fruits, + And summer's shade, both men and brutes, + And warm'd the hearth with many a limb + Which winter from its top did trim! + Why could not man have pruned and spared, + And with itself for ages shared?-- + Much scorning thus to be convinced, + The man resolved his cause to gain. + Quoth he, 'My goodness is evinced + By hearing this, 'tis very plain;' + Then flung the serpent bag and all, + With fatal force, against a wall. + + So ever is it with the great, + With whom the whim doth always run, + That Heaven all creatures doth create + For their behoof beneath the sun-- + Count they four feet, or two, or none. + If one should dare the fact dispute, + He's straight set down a stupid brute. + Now, grant it so,--such lords among, + What should be done, or said, or sung? + At distance speak, or hold your tongue. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X6">6</a>] Bidpaii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10III">III</a>.--THE TORTOISE AND THE TWO DUCKS.[<a href="#X7">7</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, + Tired of her hole, the world would see. + Prone are all such, self-banish'd, to roam-- + Prone are all cripples to abhor their home. + Two ducks, to whom the gossip told + The secret of her purpose bold, + Profess'd to have the means whereby + They could her wishes gratify. + 'Our boundless road,' said they, 'behold! + It is the open air; + And through it we will bear + You safe o'er land and ocean. + Republics, kingdoms, you will view, + And famous cities, old and new; + And get of customs, laws, a notion,-- + Of various wisdom various pieces, + As did, indeed, the sage Ulysses.' + The eager tortoise waited not + To question what Ulysses got, + But closed the bargain on the spot. + A nice machine the birds devise + To bear their pilgrim through the skies.-- + Athwart her mouth a stick they throw: + 'Now bite it hard, and don't let go,' + They say, and seize each duck an end, + And, swiftly flying, upward tend. + It made the people gape and stare + Beyond the expressive power of words, + To see a tortoise cut the air, + Exactly poised between two birds. + 'A miracle,' they cried, 'is seen! + There goes the flying tortoise queen!' + 'The queen!' ('twas thus the tortoise spoke;) + 'I'm truly that, without a joke.' + Much better had she held her tongue + For, opening that whereby she clung, + Before the gazing crowd she fell, + And dash'd to bits her brittle shell. + + Imprudence, vanity, and babble, + And idle curiosity, + An ever-undivided rabble, + Have all the same paternity. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X7">7</a>] Bidpaii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10IV">IV</a>.--THE FISHES AND THE CORMORANT.[<a href="#X8">8</a>]</h4> +<pre> + No pond nor pool within his haunt + But paid a certain cormorant + Its contribution from its fishes, + And stock'd his kitchen with good dishes. + Yet, when old age the bird had chill'd, + His kitchen was less amply fill'd. + All cormorants, however grey, + Must die, or for themselves purvey. + But ours had now become so blind, + His finny prey he could not find; + And, having neither hook nor net, + His appetite was poorly met. + What hope, with famine thus infested? + Necessity, whom history mentions, + A famous mother of inventions, + The following stratagem suggested: + He found upon the water's brink + A crab, to which said he, 'My friend, + A weighty errand let me send: + Go quicker than a wink-- + Down to the fishes sink, + And tell them they are doom'd to die; + For, ere eight days have hasten'd by, + Its lord will fish this water dry.' + The crab, as fast as she could scrabble, + Went down, and told the scaly rabble. + What bustling, gathering, agitation! + Straight up they send a deputation + To wait upon the ancient bird. + 'Sir Cormorant, whence hast thou heard + This dreadful news? And what + Assurance of it hast thou got? + How such a danger can we shun? + Pray tell us, what is to be done? + 'Why, change your dwelling-place,' said he, + 'What, change our dwelling! How can we?' + 'O, by your leave, I'll take that care, + And, one by one, in safety bear + You all to my retreat: + The path's unknown + To any feet, + Except my own. + A pool, scoop'd out by Nature's hands, + Amidst the desert rocks and sands, + Where human traitors never come, + Shall save your people from their doom.' + The fish republic swallow'd all, + And, coming at the fellow's call, + Were singly borne away to stock + A pond beneath a lonely rock; + And there good prophet cormorant, + Proprietor and bailiff sole, + From narrow water, clear and shoal, + With ease supplied his daily want, + And taught them, at their own expense, + That heads well stored with common sense + Give no devourers confidence.-- + Still did the change not hurt their case, + Since, had they staid, the human race, + Successful by pernicious art, + Would have consumed as large a part. + What matters who your flesh devours, + Of human or of bestial powers? + In this respect, or wild or tame, + All stomachs seem to me the same: + The odds is small, in point of sorrow, + Of death to-day, or death to-morrow. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X8">8</a>] Bidpaii.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10V">V</a>.--THE BURIER AND HIS COMRADE.[<a href="#X9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A close-fist had his money hoarded + Beyond the room his till afforded. + His avarice aye growing ranker, + (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) + He was perplex'd to choose a banker; + For banker he must have, he thought, + Or all his heap would come to nought. + 'I fear,' said he, 'if kept at home, + And other robbers should not come, + It might be equal cause of grief + That I had proved myself the thief.' + The thief! Is to enjoy one's pelf + To rob or steal it from one's self? + My friend, could but my pity reach you, + This lesson I would gladly teach you, + That wealth is weal no longer than + Diffuse and part with it you can: + Without that power, it is a woe. + Would you for age keep back its flow? + Age buried 'neath its joyless snow? + With pains of getting, care of got + Consumes the value, every jot, + Of gold that one can never spare. + To take the load of such a care, + Assistants were not very rare. + The earth was that which pleased him best. + Dismissing thought of all the rest, + He with his friend, his trustiest,-- + A sort of shovel-secretary,-- + Went forth his hoard to bury. + Safe done, a few days afterward, + The man must look beneath the sward-- + When, what a mystery! behold + The mine exhausted of its gold! + Suspecting, with the best of cause, + His friend was privy to his loss, + He bade him, in a cautious mood, + To come as soon as well he could, + For still some other coins he had, + Which to the rest he wish'd to add. + Expecting thus to get the whole, + The friend put back the sum he stole, + Then came with all despatch. + The other proved an overmatch: + Resolved at length to save by spending, + His practice thus most wisely mending, + The total treasure home he carried-- + No longer hoarded it or buried. + Chapfallen was the thief, when gone + He saw his prospects and his pawn. + + From this it may be stated, + That knaves with ease are cheated. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X9">9</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10VI">VI</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE SHEPHERDS.[<a href="#X10">10</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A Wolf, replete + With humanity sweet, + (A trait not much suspected,) + On his cruel deeds, + The fruit of his needs, + Profoundly thus reflected. + + 'I'm hated,' said he, + 'As joint enemy, + By hunters, dogs, and clowns. + They swear I shall die, + And their hue and cry + The very thunder drowns. + + 'My brethren have fled, + With price on the head, + From England's merry land. + King Edgar came out, + And put them to rout,[<a href="#X11">11</a>] + With many a deadly band. + + 'And there's not a squire + But blows up the fire + By hostile proclamation; + Nor a human brat, + Dares cry, but that + Its mother mocks my nation. + + 'And all for what? + For a sheep with the rot, + Or scabby, mangy ass, + Or some snarling cur, + With less meat than fur, + On which I've broken fast! + + 'Well, henceforth I'll strive + That nothing alive + Shall die to quench my thirst; + No lambkin shall fall, + Nor puppy, at all, + To glut my maw accurst. + With grass I'll appease, + Or browse on the trees, + Or die of famine first. + + 'What of carcass warm? + Is it worth the storm + Of universal hate?' + As he spoke these words, + The lords of the herds, + All seated at their bait, + He saw; and observed + The meat which was served + Was nought but roasted lamb! + 'O! O!' said the beast, + 'Repent of my feast-- + All butcher as I am-- + On these vermin mean, + Whose guardians e'en + Eat at a rate quadruple!-- + Themselves and their dogs, + As greedy as hogs, + And I, a wolf, to scruple!' + + 'Look out for your wool + I'll not be a fool, + The very pet I'll eat; + The lamb the best-looking, + Without any cooking, + I'll strangle from the teat; + And swallow the dam, + As well as the lamb, + And stop her foolish bleat. + Old Hornie, too,--rot him,-- + The sire that begot him + Shall be among my meat!' + + Well-reasoning beast! + Were we sent to feast + On creatures wild and tame? + And shall we reduce + The beasts to the use + Of vegetable game? + + Shall animals not + Have flesh-hook or pot, + As in the age of gold? + And we claim the right, + In the pride of our might, + Themselves to have and hold? + O shepherds, that keep + Your folds full of sheep, + The wolf was only wrong, + Because, so to speak, + His jaws were too weak + To break your palings strong. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X10">10</a>] Founded upon one of Philibert Hegemon's Fables.<br> +[<a name="X11">11</a>] <i>King Edgar put them to rout.</i>--The English king Edgar (reigned + 959-75) took great pains in hunting and pursuing wolves; "and," says + Hume, "when he found that all that escaped him had taken shelter in + the mountains and forests of Wales, he changed the tribute of money + imposed on the Welsh princes by Athelstan, his predecessor, into an + annual tribute of three hundred heads of wolves; which produced such + diligence in hunting them, that the animal has been no more seen in + this island."--Hume's <i>England</i>, vol. i., p. 99, Bell's edit., + 1854.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10VII">VII</a>.--THE SPIDER AND THE SWALLOW.[<a href="#X12">12</a>]</h4> +<pre> + 'O Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, + By odd obstetrics freed from pain, + Bore Pallas,[<a href="#X13">13</a>] erst my mortal foe,[<a href="#X14">14</a>] + Pray listen to my tale of woe. + This Progne[<a href="#X15">15</a>] takes my lawful prey. + As through the air she cuts her way, + And skims the waves in seeming play. + My flies she catches from my door,-- + 'Yes, <i>mine</i>--I emphasize the word,-- + And, but for this accursed bird, + My net would hold an ample store: + For I have woven it of stuff + To hold the strongest strong enough.' + 'Twas thus, in terms of insolence, + Complain'd the fretful spider, once + Of palace-tapestry a weaver, + But then a spinster and deceiver, + That hoped within her toils to bring + Of insects all that ply the wing. + The sister swift of Philomel, + Intent on business, prosper'd well; + In spite of the complaining pest, + The insects carried to her nest-- + Nest pitiless to suffering flies-- + Mouths gaping aye, to gormandize, + Of young ones clamouring, + And stammering, + With unintelligible cries. + The spider, with but head and feet. + And powerless to compete + With wings so fleet, + Soon saw herself a prey. + The swallow, passing swiftly by, + Bore web and all away, + The spinster dangling in the sky! + + Two tables hath our Maker set + For all that in this world are met. + To seats around the first + The skilful, vigilant, and strong are beckon'd: + Their hunger and their thirst + The rest must quell with leavings at the second. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X12">12</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="X13">13</a>] <i>Pallas</i>.--An allusion to the birth of Pallas, or + Minerva--grown and armed--from the brain of Jove.<br> +[<a name="X14">14</a>] <i>Mortal foe</i>.--Arachne (whence the spider (<i>aranea</i>) has + its name) was a woman of Colopho who challenged Pallas to a trial of + skill in needlework, and, being defeated, hanged herself. She was + changed into a spider: <i>vide</i> Ovid, <i>Metam.</i>, Book VI., + &c.<br> +[<a name="X15">15</a>] <i>Progne</i>.--The sister of Philomela, turned into a swallow, as + mentioned in <a href="#III23">note to Fable XV., Book III</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10VIII">VIII</a>.--THE PARTRIDGE AND THE COCKS.[<a href="#X16">16</a>]</h4> +<pre> + With a set of uncivil and turbulent cocks, + That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks, + A partridge was placed to be rear'd. + Her sex, by politeness revered, + Made her hope, from a gentry devoted to love, + For the courtesy due to the tenderest dove; + Nay, protection chivalric from knights of the yard. + That gentry, however, with little regard + For the honours and knighthood wherewith they were deck'd, + And for the strange lady as little respect, + Her ladyship often most horribly peck'd. + At first, she was greatly afflicted therefor, + But when she had noticed these madcaps at war + With each other, and dealing far bloodier blows, + Consoling her own individual woes,-- + 'Entail'd by their customs,' said she, 'is the shame; + Let us pity the simpletons rather than blame. + Our Maker creates not all spirits the same; + The cocks and the partridges certainly differ, + By a nature than laws of civility stiffer. + Were the choice to be mine, I would finish my life + In society freer from riot and strife. + But the lord of this soil has a different plan; + His tunnel our race to captivity brings, + He throws us with cocks, after clipping our wings. + 'Tis little we have to complain of but man.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X16">16</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10IX">IX</a>.--THE DOG WHOSE EARS WERE CROPPED.</h4> +<pre> + 'What have I done, I'd like to know, + To make my master maim me so? + A pretty figure I shall cut! + From other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut. + Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho! + Would any beast have served you so?' + Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young;-- + The man, whom pity never stung, + Went on to prune him of his ears. + Though Growler whined about his losses, + He found, before the lapse of years, + Himself a gainer by the process; + For, being by his nature prone + To fight his brethren for a bone, + He'd oft come back from sad reverse + With those appendages the worse. + All snarling dogs have ragged ears. + + The less of hold for teeth of foe, + The better will the battle go. + When, in a certain place, one fears + The chance of being hurt or beat, + He fortifies it from defeat. + Besides the shortness of his ears, + See Growler arm'd against his likes + With gorget full of ugly spikes. + A wolf would find it quite a puzzle + To get a hold about his muzzle. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10X">X</a>.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.[<a href="#X17">17</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two demons at their pleasure share our being-- + The cause of Reason from her homestead fleeing; + No heart but on their altars kindleth flames. + If you demand their purposes and names, + The one is Love, the other is Ambition. + Of far the greater share this takes possession, + For even into love it enters, + Which I might prove; but now my story centres + Upon a shepherd clothed with lofty powers: + The tale belongs to older times than ours. + + A king observed a flock, wide spread + Upon the plains, most admirably fed, + O'erpaying largely, as return'd the years, + Their shepherd's care, by harvests for his shears. + Such pleasure in this man the monarch took,-- + 'Thou meritest,' said he, 'to wield a crook + O'er higher flock than this; and my esteem + O'er men now makes thee judge supreme.' + Behold our shepherd, scales in hand, + Although a hermit and a wolf or two, + Besides his flock and dogs, were all he knew! + Well stock'd with sense, all else upon demand + Would come of course, and did, we understand. + His neighbour hermit came to him to say, + 'Am I awake? Is this no dream, I pray? + You favourite! you great! Beware of kings, + Their favours are but slippery things, + Dear-bought; to mount the heights to which they call + Is but to court a more illustrious fall. + You little know to what this lure beguiles. + My friend, I say, Beware!' The other smiles. + The hermit adds, 'See how + The court has marr'd your wisdom even now! + That purblind traveller I seem to see, + Who, having lost his whip, by strange mistake, + Took for a better one a snake; + But, while he thank'd his stars, brimful of glee, + Outcried a passenger, "God shield your breast! + Why, man, for life, throw down that treacherous pest, + That snake!"--"It is my whip."--"A snake, I say: + What selfish end could prompt my warning, pray? + Think you to keep your prize?"--"And wherefore not? + My whip was worn; I've found another new: + This counsel grave from envy springs in you."-- + The stubborn wight would not believe a jot, + Till warm and lithe the serpent grew, + And, striking with his venom, slew + The man almost upon the spot. + And as to you, I dare predict + That something worse will soon afflict.' + 'Indeed? What worse than death, prophetic hermit?' + 'Perhaps, the compound heartache I may term it.' + And never was there truer prophecy. + Full many a courtier pest, by many a lie + Contrived, and many a cruel slander, + To make the king suspect the judge awry + In both ability and candour. + Cabals were raised, and dark conspiracies, + Of men that felt aggrieved by his decrees. + 'With wealth of ours he hath a palace built,' + Said they. The king, astonish'd at his guilt, + His ill-got riches ask'd to see. + He found but mediocrity, + Bespeaking strictest honesty. + So much for his magnificence. + Anon, his plunder was a hoard immense + Of precious stones that fill'd an iron box + All fast secur'd by half a score of locks. + Himself the coffer oped, and sad surprise + Befell those manufacturers of lies. + The open'd lid disclosed no other matters + Than, first, a shepherd's suit in tatters, + And then a cap and jacket, pipe and crook, + And scrip, mayhap with pebbles from the brook. + 'O treasure sweet,' said he, 'that never drew + The viper brood of envy's lies on you! + I take you back, and leave this palace splendid, + As some roused sleeper doth a dream that's ended. + Forgive me, sire, this exclamation. + In mounting up, my fall I had foreseen, + Yet loved the height too well; for who hath been, + Of mortal race, devoid of all ambition?' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X17">17</a>] Bidpaii (<i>The Hermit</i>). Also in Lokman.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XI">XI</a>.--THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE.[<a href="#X18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Thrysis--who for his Annette dear + Made music with his flute and voice, + Which might have roused the dead to hear, + And in their silent graves rejoice-- + Sang once the livelong day, + In the flowery month of May, + Up and down a meadow brook, + While Annette fish'd with line and hook. + But ne'er a fish would bite; + So the shepherdess's bait + Drew not a fish to its fate, + From morning dawn till night. + The shepherd, who, by his charming songs, + Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs, + And done with them as he pleased to, + Thought that he could serve the fish so. + 'O citizens,' he sang, 'of this water, + Leave your Naiad in her grot profound; + Come and see the blue sky's lovely daughter, + Who a thousand times more will charm you; + Fear not that her prison will harm you, + Though there you should chance to get bound. + 'Tis only to us men she is cruel: + You she will treat kindly; + A snug little pond she'll find ye, + Clearer than a crystal jewel, + Where you may all live and do well; + Or, if by chance some few + Should find their fate + Conceal'd in the bait, + The happier still are you; + For envied is the death that's met + At the hands of sweet Annette.' + This eloquence not effecting + The object of his wishes, + Since it failed in collecting + The deaf and dumb fishes,-- + His sweet preaching wasted, + His honey'd talk untasted, + A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing + With a fell scoop at the scaly fry, + He caught them; and now, madly flouncing, + At the feet of his Annette they lie! + + O ye shepherds, whose sheep men are, + To trust in reason never dare. + The arts of eloquence sublime + Are not within your calling; + Your fish were caught, from oldest time, + By dint of nets and hauling. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X18">18</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XII">XII</a>.--THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND HIS SON.[<a href="#X19">19</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Two parrots lived, a sire and son, + On roastings from a royal fire. + Two demigods, a son and sire, + These parrots pension'd for their fun. + Time tied the knot of love sincere: + The sires grew to each other dear; + The sons, in spite of their frivolity, + Grew comrades boon, in joke and jollity; + At mess they mated, hot or cool; + Were fellow-scholars at a school. + Which did the bird no little honour, since + The boy, by king begotten, was a prince. + By nature fond of birds, the prince, too, petted + A sparrow, which delightfully coquetted. + These rivals, both of unripe feather, + One day were frolicking together: + As oft befalls such little folks, + A quarrel follow'd from their jokes. + The sparrow, quite uncircumspect, + Was by the parrot sadly peck'd; + With drooping wing and bloody head, + His master pick'd him up for dead, + And, being quite too wroth to bear it, + In heat of passion kill'd his parrot. + When this sad piece of news he heard, + Distracted was the parent bird. + His piercing cries bespoke his pain; + But cries and tears were all in vain. + The talking bird had left the shore;[<a href="#X20">20</a>] + In short, he, talking now no more, + Caused such a rage to seize his sire, + That, lighting on the prince in ire, + He put out both his eyes, + And fled for safety as was wise. + The bird a pine for refuge chose, + And to its lofty summit rose; + There, in the bosom of the skies, + Enjoy'd his vengeance sweet, + And scorn'd the wrath beneath his feet. + Out ran the king, and cried, in soothing tone, + 'Return, dear friend; what serves it to bemoan? + Hate, vengeance, mourning, let us both omit. + For me, it is no more than fit + To own, though with an aching heart, + The wrong is wholly on our part. + Th' aggressor truly was my son-- + My son? no; but by Fate the deed was done. + Ere birth of Time, stern Destiny + Had written down the sad decree, + That by this sad calamity + Your child should cease to live, and mine to see. + + 'Let both, then, cease to mourn; + And you, back to your cage return.' + 'Sire king,' replied the bird, + 'Think you that, after such a deed, + I ought to trust your word? + You speak of Fate; by such a heathen creed + Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed? + But whether Fate or Providence divine + Gives law to things below, + 'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine, + Or where wild forests grow, + My days I finish, safely, far + From that which ought your love to mar, + And turn it all to hate. + Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel, + And ever hath been part and parcel + Of this your godlike state. + You would forget the cause of grief; + Suppose I grant you my belief,-- + 'Tis better still to make it true, + By keeping out of sight of you. + Sire king, my friend, no longer wait + For friendship to be heal'd;.... + But absence is the cure of hate, + As 'tis from love the shield.' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X19">19</a>] Bidpaii. In Knatchbull's English edition the fable is titled "The + King and the Bird, or the emblem of revengeful persons who are + unworthy of trust." It is also in the Lokman collection.<br> +[<a name="X20">20</a>] <i>The talking bird</i>, &c.--"Stygia natabat jam frigida + cymba."--VIRG.--Translator.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XIII">XIII</a>.--THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR.</h4> +<pre> + The lioness had lost her young; + A hunter stole it from the vale; + The forests and the mountains rung + Responsive to her hideous wail. + Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, + Could still the loud lament that rose + From that grim forest queen. + No animal, as you might think, + With such a noise could sleep a wink. + A bear presumed to intervene. + 'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she, + 'And that is all, from me. + The young that through your teeth have pass'd, + In file unbroken by a fast, + Had they nor dam nor sire?' + 'They had them both.' 'Then I desire, + Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, + While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, + To know why you yourself cannot be quiet?' + 'I quiet!--I!--a wretch bereaved! + My only son!--such anguish be relieved! + No, never! All for me below + Is but a life of tears and woe!'-- + 'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so?'-- + 'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.' + + Such language, since the mortal fall, + Has fallen from the lips of all. + Ye human wretches, give your heed; + For your complaints there's little need. + Let him who thinks his own the hardest case, + Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold, + Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold, + And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace. +</pre> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XIV">XIV</a>.--THE TWO ADVENTURERS AND THE TALISMAN.[<a href="#X21">21</a>]</h4> +<pre> + No flowery path to glory leads. + This truth no better voucher needs + Than Hercules, of mighty deeds. + Few demigods, the tomes of fable + Reveal to us as being able + Such weight of task-work to endure: + In history, I find still fewer. + One such, however, here behold-- + A knight by talisman made bold, + Within the regions of romance, + To seek adventures with the lance. + There rode a comrade at his ride, + And as they rode they both espied + This writing on a post:-- + "Wouldst see, sir valiant knight, + A thing whereof the sight + No errant yet can boast? + Thou hast this torrent but to ford, + And, lifting up, alone, + The elephant of stone + Upon its margin shored, + Upbear it to the mountain's brow, + Round which, aloft before thee now, + The misty chaplets wreathe-- + Not stopping once to breathe." + One knight, whose nostrils bled, + Betokening courage fled, + Cried out, 'What if that current's sweep + Not only rapid be, but deep! + And grant it cross'd,--pray, why encumber + One's arms with that unwieldy lumber, + An elephant of stone? + Perhaps the artist may have done + His work in such a way, that one + Might lug it twice its length; + But then to reach yon mountain top, + And that without a breathing stop, + Were surely past a mortal's strength-- + Unless, indeed, it be no bigger + Than some wee, pigmy, dwarfish figure, + Which one would head a cane withal;-- + And if to this the case should fall, + The adventurer's honour would be small! + This posting seems to me a trap, + Or riddle for some greenish chap; + I therefore leave the whole to you.' + The doubtful reasoner onward hies. + With heart resolved, in spite of eyes, + The other boldly dashes through; + Nor depth of flood nor force + Can stop his onward course. + He finds the elephant of stone; + He lifts it all alone; + Without a breathing stop, + He bears it to the top + Of that steep mount, and seeth there + A high-wall'd city, great and fair. + Out-cried the elephant--and hush'd; + But forth in arms the people rush'd. + A knight less bold had surely fled; + But he, so far from turning back, + His course right onward sped, + Resolved himself to make attack, + And die but with the bravest dead. + Amazed was he to hear that band + Proclaim him monarch of their land, + And welcome him, in place of one + Whose death had left a vacant throne! + In sooth, he lent a gracious ear, + Meanwhile expressing modest fear, + Lest such a load of royal care + Should be too great for him to bear. + And so, exactly, Sixtus[<a href="#X22">22</a>] said, + When first the pope's tiara press'd his head; + (Though, is it such a grievous thing + To be a pope, or be a king?) + But days were few before they read it, + That with but little truth he said it. + + Blind Fortune follows daring blind. + Oft executes the wisest man, + Ere yet the wisdom of his mind + Is task'd his means or end to scan. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X21">21</a>] Bidpaii; also in Lokman.<br> +[<a name="X22">22</a>] <i>Sixtus</i>.--Pope Sixtus V., who simulated decrepitude to get + elected to the Papal chair, and when elected threw off all disguise + and ruled despotically.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XV">XV</a>.--THE RABBITS.[<a href="#X23">23</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">An Address To The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.[<a href="#X24">24</a>]</p> +<pre> + While watching man in all his phases, + And seeing that, in many cases, + He acts just like the brute creation,-- + I've thought the lord of all these races + Of no less failings show'd the traces + Than do his lieges in relation; + And that, in making it, Dame Nature + Hath put a spice in every creature + From off the self-same spirit-stuff-- + Not from the immaterial, + But what we call ethereal, + Refined from matter rough. + An illustration please to hear. + Just on the still frontier + Of either day or night,-- + Or when the lord of light + Reclines his radiant head + Upon his watery bed, + Or when he dons the gear, + To drive a new career,-- + While yet with doubtful sway + The hour is ruled 'twixt night and day,-- + Some border forest-tree I climb; + And, acting Jove, from height sublime + My fatal bolt at will directing, + I kill some rabbit unsuspecting. + The rest that frolick'd on the heath, + Or browsed the thyme with dainty teeth, + With open eye and watchful ear, + Behold, all scampering from beneath, + Instinct with mortal fear. + All, frighten'd simply by the sound, + Hie to their city underground. + But soon the danger is forgot, + And just as soon the fear lives not: + The rabbits, gayer than before, + I see beneath my hand once more! + + Are not mankind well pictured here? + By storms asunder driven, + They scarcely reach their haven, + And cast their anchor, ere + They tempt the same dread shocks + Of tempests, waves, and rocks. + True rabbits, back they frisk + To meet the self-same risk! + + I add another common case. + When dogs pass through a place + Beyond their customary bounds, + And meet with others, curs or hounds, + Imagine what a holiday! + The native dogs, whose interests centre + In one great organ, term'd the venter, + The strangers rush at, bite, and bay; + With cynic pertness tease and worry, + And chase them off their territory. + So, too, do men. Wealth, grandeur, glory, + To men of office or profession, + Of every sort, in every nation, + As tempting are, and sweet, + As is to dogs the refuse meat. + With us, it is a general fact, + One sees the latest-come attack'd, + And plunder'd to the skin. + Coquettes and authors we may view, + As samples of the sin; + For woe to belle or writer new! + The fewer eaters round the cake, + The fewer players for the stake, + The surer each one's self to take. + A hundred facts my truth might test; + But shortest works are always best. + In this I but pursue the chart + Laid down by masters of the art; + And, on the best of themes, I hold, + The truth should never all be told. + Hence, here my sermon ought to close. + O thou, to whom my fable owes + Whate'er it has of solid worth,-- + Who, great by modesty as well as birth, + Hast ever counted praise a pain,-- + Whose leave I could so ill obtain + That here your name, receiving homage, + Should save from every sort of damage + My slender works--which name, well known + To nations, and to ancient Time, + All France delights to own; + Herself more rich in names sublime + Than any other earthly clime;-- + Permit me here the world to teach + That you have given my simple rhyme + The text from which it dares to preach. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X23">23</a>] This fable in the original editions has no other title save--"An + Address," &c. Later editors titled it "Les Lapins."<br> +[<a name="X24">24</a>] <i>Rochefoucauld</i>.--See <a href="#1XI">Fable XI., Book I.</a>, also dedicated to the + duke, and the note thereto.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="10XVI">XVI</a>.--THE MERCHANT, THE NOBLE, THE SHEPHERD, AND THE KING'S SON.[<a href="#X25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Four voyagers to parts unknown, + On shore, not far from naked, thrown + By furious waves,--a merchant, now undone, + A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son,-- + Brought to the lot of Belisarius,[<a href="#X26">26</a>] + Their wants supplied on alms precarious. + To tell what fates, and winds, and weather, + Had brought these mortals all together, + Though from far distant points abscinded, + Would make my tale long-winded. + Suffice to say, that, by a fountain met, + In council grave these outcasts held debate. + The prince enlarged, in an oration set, + Upon the mis'ries that befall the great. + The shepherd deem'd it best to cast + Off thought of all misfortune past, + And each to do the best he could, + In efforts for the common weal. + 'Did ever a repining mood,' + He added, 'a misfortune heal? + Toil, friends, will take us back to Rome, + Or make us here as good a home.' + A shepherd so to speak! a shepherd? What! + As though crown'd heads were not, + By Heaven's appointment fit, + The sole receptacles of wit! + As though a shepherd could be deeper, + In thought or knowledge, than his sheep are! + The three, howe'er, at once approved his plan, + Wreck'd as they were on shores American. + 'I'll teach arithmetic,' the merchant said,-- + Its rules, of course, well seated in his head,-- + 'For monthly pay.' The prince replied, 'And I + Will teach political economy.' + 'And I,' the noble said, 'in heraldry + Well versed, will open for that branch a school--' + As if, beyond a thousand leagues of sea, + That senseless jargon could befool! + 'My friends, you talk like men,' + The shepherd cried, 'but then + The month has thirty days; till they are spent, + Are we upon your faith to keep full Lent? + The hope you give is truly good; + But, ere it comes, we starve for food! + Pray tell me, if you can divine, + On what, to-morrow, we shall dine; + Or tell me, rather, whence we may + Obtain a supper for to-day. + This point, if truth should be confess'd, + Is first, and vital to the rest. + Your science short in this respect, + My hands shall cover the defect.--' + This said, the nearest woods he sought, + And thence for market fagots brought, + Whose price that day, and eke the next, + Relieved the company perplex'd-- + Forbidding that, by fasting, they should go + To use their talents in the world below. + + We learn from this adventure's course, + There needs but little skill to get a living. + Thanks to the gifts of Nature's giving, + Our hands are much the readiest resource. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="X25">25</a>] Bidpaii, and Lokman.<br> +[<a name="X26">26</a>] <i>Belisarius</i>.--Belisarius was a great general, who, having + commanded the armies of the emperor, and lost the favour of his + master, fell to such a point of destitution that he asked alms upon + the highways.--La Fontaine. The touching story of the fall of + Belisarius, of which painters and poets have made so much, is + entirely false, as may be seen by consulting Gibbon's "Decline and + Fall of the Roman Empire," chap. xliii.--Translator.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="XI">BOOK</a> XI.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="11I">I</a>.--THE LION.[<a href="#XI1">1</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Some time ago, a sultan Leopard, + By means of many a rich escheat, + Had many an ox in meadow sweet, + And many a stag in forest, fleet, + And (what a savage sort of shepherd!) + Full many a sheep upon the plains, + That lay within his wide domains. + Not far away, one morn, + There was a lion born. + Exchanged high compliments of state, + As is the custom with the great, + The sultan call'd his vizier Fox, + Who had a deeper knowledge-box, + And said to him, 'This lion's whelp you dread; + What can he do, his father being dead? + Our pity rather let him share, + An orphan so beset with care. + The luckiest lion ever known, + If, letting conquest quite alone, + He should have power to keep his own.' + Sir Renard said, + And shook his head, + 'Such orphans, please your majesty, + Will get no pity out of me. + We ought to keep within his favour, + Or else with all our might endeavour + To thrust him out of life and throne, + Ere yet his claws and teeth are grown. + There's not a moment to be lost. + His horoscope I've cast; + He'll never quarrel to his cost; + But then his friendship fast + Will be to friends of greater worth + Than any lion's e'er on earth. + Try then, my liege, to make it ours, + Or else to check his rising powers.' + The warning fell in vain. + The sultan slept; and beasts and men + Did so, throughout his whole domain, + Till lion's whelp became a lion. + Then came at once the tocsin cry on, + Alarm and fluttering consternation. + The vizier call'd to consultation, + A sigh escaped him as he said, + 'Why all this mad excitement now, + When hope is fled, no matter how? + A thousand men were useless aid,-- + The more, the worse,--since all their power + Would be our mutton to devour. + Appease this lion; sole he doth exceed + The helpers all that on us feed. + And three hath he, that cost him nought-- + His courage, strength, and watchful thought. + Quick send a wether for his use: + If not contented, send him more; + Yes, add an ox, and see you choose + The best our pastures ever bore. + Thus save the rest.'--But such advice + The sultan spurn'd, as cowardice. + And his, and many states beside, + Did ills, in consequence, betide. + However fought this world allied, + The beast maintain'd his power and pride. + If you must let the lion grow, + Don't let him live to be your foe. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI1">1</a>] The fable of the young Leopard in the Bidpaii collection resembles + this.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11II">II</a>.--THE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON OF JUPITER.[<a href="#XI2">2</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">For Monseigneur The Duke Du Maine.</p> +<pre> + To Jupiter was born a son,[<a href="#XI3">3</a>] + Who, conscious of his origin, + A godlike spirit had within. + To love, such age is little prone; + Yet this celestial boy + Made love his chief employ, + And was beloved wherever known. + In him both love and reason + Sprang up before their season. + With charming smiles and manners winning, + Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning, + As an Olympian became: + Whatever lights the tender flame,-- + A heart to take and render bliss,-- + Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his. + Jove's son, he should of course inherit + A higher and a nobler spirit + Than sons of other deities. + It seem'd as if by Memory's aid-- + As if a previous life had made + Experiment and hid it-- + He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade, + So perfectly he did it. + Still Jupiter would educate + In manner fitting to his state. + The gods, obedient to his call, + Assemble in their council-hall; + When thus the sire: 'Companionless and sole, + Thus far the boundless universe I roll; + But numerous other offices there are, + Of which I give to younger gods the care. + I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child, + Whose countless altars are already piled. + To merit such regard from all below, + All things the young immortal ought to know.' + No sooner had the Thund'rer ended, + Than each his godlike plan commended; + Nor did the boy too little yearn + His lesson infinite to learn. + Said fiery Mars, 'I take the part + To make him master of the art + Whereby so many heroes high + Have won the honours of the sky.' + 'To teach him music be my care,' + Apollo said, the wise and fair; + 'And mine,' that mighty god replied, + In the Nemaean lion's hide, + 'To teach him to subdue + The vices, an envenom'd crew, + Like Hydras springing ever new. + The foe of weakening luxury, + The boy divine will learn from me + Those rugged paths, so little trod, + That lead to glory man and god.' + Said Cupid, when it came his turn, + 'All things from me the boy may learn.' + + Well spoke the god of love. + What feat of Mars, or Hercules, + Or bright Apollo, lies above + Wit, wing'd by a desire to please? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI2">2</a>] This title does not exist in the original editions. It appeared for + the first time in the edition of 1709. The original heading to the + fable is "For Monseigneur," &c.<br> +[<a name="XI3">3</a>] <i>To Jupiter was born a son</i>.--Jupiter here is Louis XIV., and + his son is the Duke du Maine to whom the fable is addressed. The duke + was the son of Louis and Madame de Montespan. He was born at + Versailles in 1670; and when La Fontaine wrote this address to him he + was about eight years old, and the pupil of Madame de Maintenon, his + mother's successor in the affections of the king.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11III">III</a>.--THE FARMER, THE DOG, AND THE FOX.[<a href="#XI4">4</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The wolf and fox are neighbours strange: + I would not build within their range. + The fox once eyed with strict regard + From day to day, a poultry-yard; + But though a most accomplish'd cheat, + He could not get a fowl to eat. + Between the risk and appetite, + His rogueship's trouble was not slight. + 'Alas!' quoth he, 'this stupid rabble + But mock me with their constant gabble; + I go and come, and rack my brains, + And get my labour for my pains. + Your rustic owner, safe at home, + Takes all the profits as they come: + He sells his capons and his chicks, + Or keeps them hanging on his hook, + All dress'd and ready for his cook; + But I, adept in art and tricks, + Should I but catch the toughest crower, + Should be brimful of joy, and more. + O Jove supreme! why was I made + A master of the fox's trade? + By all the higher powers, and lower, + I swear to rob this chicken-grower!' + Revolving such revenge within, + When night had still'd the various din, + And poppies seem'd to bear full sway + O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay + Alike secure in slumber deep, + And cocks and hens were fast asleep, + Upon the populous roost he stole. + By negligence,--a common sin,-- + The farmer left unclosed the hole, + And, stooping down, the fox went in. + The blood of every fowl was spill'd, + The citadel with murder fill'd. + The dawn disclosed sad sights, I ween, + When heaps on slaughter'd heaps were seen, + All weltering in their mingled gore. + With horror stricken, as of yore, + The sun well nigh shrunk back again, + To hide beneath the liquid main. + Such sight once saw the Trojan plain, + When on the fierce Atrides'[<a href="#XI5">5</a>] head + Apollo's awful anger fell, + And strew'd the crimson field with dead: + Of Greeks, scarce one was left to tell + The carnage of that night so dread. + Such slaughter, too, around his tent, + The furious Ajax made, one night, + Of sheep and goats, in easy fight; + In anger blindly confident + That by his well-directed blows + Ulysses fell, or some of those + By whose iniquity and lies + That wily rival took the prize. + The fox, thus having Ajax play'd, + Bore off the nicest of the brood,-- + As many pullets as he could,-- + And left the rest, all prostrate laid. + The owner found his sole resource + His servants and his dog to curse. + 'You useless puppy, better drown'd! + Why did you not your 'larum sound?' + 'Why did you not the evil shun,' + Quoth Towser, 'as you might have done? + If you, whose interest was more, + Could sleep and leave an open door, + Think you that I, a dog at best, + Would watch, and lose my precious rest?' + This pithy speech had been, in truth, + Good logic in a master's mouth; + But, coming from a menial's lip, + It even lack'd the lawyership + To save poor Towser from the whip. + + O thou who head'st a family, + (An honour never grudged by me,) + Thou art a patriarch unwise, + To sleep, and trust another's eyes. + Thyself shouldst go to bed the last, + Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast. + I charge you never let a fox see + Your special business done by proxy. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI4">4</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="XI5">5</a>] <i>Atrides</i>.--Atreus, or Atrides, king of Mycenae, and grandfather + of Agamemnon. He caused his brother Theyestes to banquet on the flesh + of his own children. After the repast, proceeds the story, the arms + and heads of the murdered children were produced to convince + Theyestes of what he had feasted on; and at the deed "the sun shrunk + back in his course."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11IV">IV</a>.--THE MOGUL'S DREAM.[<a href="#XI6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, + A vizier in Elysian bliss; + No higher joy could be or seem, + Or purer, than was ever his. + Elsewhere was dream'd of by the same + A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame, + Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he, + The partners of his misery. + Was Minos[<a href="#XI7">7</a>] mock'd? or had these ghosts, + By some mistake, exchanged their posts? + Surprise at this the vision broke; + The dreamer suddenly awoke. + Some mystery suspecting in it, + He got a wise one to explain it. + Replied the sage interpreter, + 'Let not the thing a marvel seem: + There is a meaning in your dream: + If I have aught of knowledge, sir, + It covers counsel from the gods. + While tenanting these clay abodes, + This vizier sometimes gladly sought + The solitude that favours thought; + Whereas, the hermit, in his cot, + Had longings for a vizier's lot.' + To this interpretation dared I add, + The love of solitude I would inspire. + It satisfies the heart's desire + With unencumber'd gifts and glad-- + Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet, + Aye springing up beneath our feet. + O Solitude! whose secret charms I know-- + Retreats that I have loved--when shall I go + To taste, far from a world of din and noise, + Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice? + When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be? + When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar, + And cities with all solitude at war, + Engross entire, and teach their votary + The stealthy movements of the spangled nights, + The names and virtues of those errant lights + Which rule o'er human character and fate? + Or, if not born to purposes so great, + The streams, at least, shall win my heartfelt thanks, + While, in my verse, I paint their flowery banks. + Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread, + Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed, + Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head. + But will my sleep be less a treasure? + Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure? + I vow it, sweet and gentle as the dew, + Within those deserts sacrifices new; + And when the time shall come to yield my breath, + Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death.[<a href="#XI8">8</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI6">6</a>] The original story of this fable is traced to Sadi, the Persian poet + and fabulist, who flourished in the twelfth century. La Fontaine + probably found it in the French edition of Sadi's "Gulistan; or the + Garden of Flowers" which was published by André du Ryer in 1634.<br> +[<a name="XI7">7</a>] <i>Minos</i>.--Chief judge in the infernal regions.<br> +[<a name="XI8">8</a>] For some remarks upon this fable see Translator's Preface.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11V">V</a>.--THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES.[<a href="#XI9">9</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The lion, for his kingdom's sake, + In morals would some lessons take, + And therefore call'd, one summer's day, + The monkey, master of the arts, + An animal of brilliant parts, + To hear what he could say. + 'Great king,' the monkey thus began, + 'To reign upon the wisest plan + Requires a prince to set his zeal, + And passion for the public weal, + Distinctly and quite high above + A certain feeling call'd self-love, + The parent of all vices, + In creatures of all sizes. + To will this feeling from one's breast away, + Is not the easy labour of a day; + 'Tis much to moderate its tyrant sway. + By that your majesty august, + Will execute your royal trust, + From folly free and aught unjust.' + 'Give me,' replied the king, + 'Example of each thing.' + 'Each species,' said the sage,-- + 'And I begin with ours,-- + Exalts its own peculiar powers + Above sound reason's gauge. + Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes + As fools and blockheads it describes, + With other compliments as cheap. + But, on the other hand, the same + Self-love inspires a beast to heap + The highest pyramid of fame + For every one that bears his name; + Because he justly deems such praise + The easiest way himself to raise. + 'Tis my conclusion in the case, + That many a talent here below + Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,-- + The art of seeming things to know-- + An art in which perfection lies + More with the ignorant than wise. + + 'Two asses tracking, t'other day, + Of which each in his turn, + Did incense to the other burn, + Quite in the usual way,-- + I heard one to his comrade say, + "My lord, do you not find + The prince of knaves and fools + To be this man, who boasts of mind + Instructed in his schools? + With wit unseemly and profane, + He mocks our venerable race-- + On each of his who lacketh brain + Bestows our ancient surname, ass! + And, with abusive tongue portraying, + Describes our laugh and talk as braying! + These bipeds of their folly tell us, + While thus pretending to excel us." + "No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend, + And let their orators attend. + The braying is their own, but let them be: + We understand each other, and agree, + And that's enough. As for your song, + Such wonders to its notes belong, + The nightingale is put to shame, + And Lambert[<a href="#XI10">10</a>] loses half his fame." + "My lord," the other ass replied, + "Such talents in yourself reside, + Of asses all, the joy and pride." + These donkeys, not quite satisfied + With scratching thus each other's hide, + Must needs the cities visit, + Their fortunes there to raise, + By sounding forth the praise, + Each, of the other's skill exquisite. + Full many, in this age of ours,-- + Not only among asses, + But in the higher classes, + Whom Heaven hath clothed with higher powers,-- + Dared they but do it, would exalt + A simple innocence from fault, + Or virtue common and domestic, + To excellence majestic. + I've said too much, perhaps; but I suppose + Your majesty the secret won't disclose, + Since 'twas your majesty's request that I + This matter should exemplify. + How love of self gives food to ridicule, + I've shown. To prove the balance of my rule, + That justice is a sufferer thereby, + A longer time will take.' + + 'Twas thus the monkey spake. + But my informant does not state, + That e'er the sage did demonstrate + The other point, more delicate. + Perhaps he thought none but a fool + A lion would too strictly school. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI9">9</a>] This fable is founded upon the Latin proverb <i>Asinus + asinum fricat</i>.<br> +[<a name="XI10">10</a>] <i>Lambert</i>.--This was Michael Lambert, master of chamber-music to + Louis XIV., and brother-in-law to the Grand Monarque's other great + music man, J. B. Lulli, who was chapel-music master.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11VI">VI</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX.</h4> +<pre> + Why Aesop gave the palm of cunning, + O'er flying animals and running, + To Renard Fox, I cannot tell, + Though I have search'd the subject well. + Hath not Sir Wolf an equal skill + In tricks and artifices shown, + When he would do some life an ill, + Or from his foes defend his own? + I think he hath; and, void of disrespect, + I might, perhaps, my master contradict: + Yet here's a case, in which the burrow-lodger + Was palpably, I own, the brightest dodger. + One night he spied within a well, + Wherein the fullest moonlight fell, + What seem'd to him an ample cheese. + Two balanced buckets took their turns + When drawers thence would fill their urns. + Our fox went down in one of these, + By hunger greatly press'd to sup, + And drew the other empty up. + Convinced at once of his mistake, + And anxious for his safety's sake, + He saw his death was near and sure, + Unless some other wretch in need + The same moon's image should allure + To take a bucket and succeed + To his predicament, indeed. + Two days pass'd by, and none approach'd the well; + Unhalting Time, as is his wont, + Was scooping from the moon's full front, + And as he scoop'd Sir Renard's courage fell. + His crony wolf, of clamorous maw, + Poor fox at last above him saw, + And cried, 'My comrade, look you here! + See what abundance of good cheer! + A cheese of most delicious zest! + Which Faunus must himself have press'd, + Of milk by heifer Io given. + If Jupiter were sick in heaven, + The taste would bring his appetite. + I've taken, as you see, a bite; + But still for both there is a plenty. + Pray take the bucket that I've sent ye; + Come down, and get your share.' + Although, to make the story fair, + The fox had used his utmost care, + The wolf (a fool to give him credit) + Went down because his stomach bid it-- + And by his weight pull'd up + Sir Renard to the top. + We need not mock this simpleton, + For we ourselves such deeds have done. + Our faith is prone to lend its ear + To aught which we desire or fear. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11VII">VII</a>.--THE PEASANT OF THE DANUBE.[<a href="#XI11">11</a>]</h4> +<pre> + To judge no man by outside view, + Is good advice, though not quite new. + Some time ago a mouse's fright + Upon this moral shed some light. + I have for proof at present, + With, Aesop and good Socrates,[<a href="#XI12">12</a>] + Of Danube's banks a certain peasant, + Whose portrait drawn to life, one sees, + By Marc Aurelius, if you please. + The first are well known, far and near: + I briefly sketch the other here. + The crop upon his fertile chin + Was anything but soft or thin; + Indeed, his person, clothed in hair, + Might personate an unlick'd bear. + Beneath his matted brow there lay + An eye that squinted every way; + A crooked nose and monstrous lips he bore, + And goat-skin round his trunk he wore, + With bulrush belt. And such a man as this is + Was delegate from towns the Danube kisses, + When not a nook on earth there linger'd + By Roman avarice not finger'd. + Before the senate thus he spoke:-- + 'Romans and senators who hear, + I, first of all, the gods invoke, + The powers whom mortals justly fear, + That from my tongue there may not fall + A word which I may need recall. + Without their aid there enters nought + To human hearts of good or just: + Whoever leaves the same unsought, + Is prone to violate his trust; + The prey of Roman avarice, + Ourselves are witnesses of this. + Rome, by our crimes, our scourge has grown, + More than by valour of her own. + Romans, beware lest Heaven, some day, + Exact for all our groans the pay, + And, arming us, by just reverse, + To do its vengeance, stern, but meet, + Shall pour on you the vassal's curse, + And place your necks beneath our feet! + And wherefore not? For are you better + Than hundreds of the tribes diverse + Who clank the galling Roman fetter? + What right gives you the universe? + Why come and mar our quiet life? + We till'd our acres free from strife; + In arts our hands were skill'd to toil, + As well as o'er the generous soil. + What have you taught the Germans brave? + Apt scholars, had but they + Your appetite for sway, + They might, instead of you, enslave, + Without your inhumanity. + That which your praetors perpetrate + On us, as subjects of your state, + My powers would fail me to relate. + Profaned their altars and their rites, + The pity of your gods our lot excites. + Thanks to your representatives, + In you they see but shameless thieves, + Who plunder gods as well as men. + By sateless avarice insane, + The men that rule our land from this + Are like the bottomless abyss. + To satisfy their lust of gain, + Both man and nature toil in vain. + Recall them; for indeed we will + Our fields for such no longer till. + From all our towns and plains we fly + For refuge to our mountains high. + We quit our homes and tender wives, + To lead with savage beasts our lives-- + No more to welcome into day + A progeny for Rome a prey. + And as to those already born-- + Poor helpless babes forlorn!-- + We wish them short career in time: + Your praetors force us to the crime. + Are they our teachers? Call them home,-- + They teach but luxury and vice,-- + Lest Germans should their likes become, + In fell remorseless avarice. + Have we a remedy at Rome? + I'll tell you here how matters go. + Hath one no present to bestow, + No purple for a judge or so, + The laws for him are deaf and dumb; + Their minister has aye in store + A thousand hindrances or more. + I'm sensible that truths like these + Are not the things to please. + I've done. Let death avenge you here + Of my complaint, a little too sincere.' + + He said no more; but all admired + The thought with which his speech was fired; + The eloquence and heart of oak + With which the prostrate savage spoke. + Indeed, so much were all delighted, + As due revenge, the man was knighted. + The praetors were at once displaced, + And better men the office graced. + The senate, also, by decree, + Besought a copy of the speech, + Which might to future speakers be + A model for the use of each. + Not long, howe'er, had Rome the sense + To entertain such eloquence. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI11">11</a>] La Fontaine got the historical story embodied in this fable from + Marcus Aurelius (as he acknowledges), probably through François + Cassandre's "Parallèles Historiques," 1676, and the translation + (from the Spanish of Guevara) titled the "Horloge des Princes," + which Grise and De Heberay published at Lyons in 1575.<br> +[<a name="XI12">12</a>] Aesop and Socrates are usually represented as very ugly.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11VIII">VIII</a>.--THE OLD MAN AND THE THREE YOUNG ONES.[<a href="#XI13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man was planting at fourscore. + Three striplings, who their satchels wore, + 'In building,' cried, 'the sense were more; + But then to plant young trees at that age! + The man is surely in his dotage. + Pray, in the name of common sense, + What fruit can he expect to gather + Of all this labour and expense? + Why, he must live like Lamech's father! + What use for thee, grey-headed man, + To load the remnant of thy span + With care for days that never can be thine? + Thyself to thought of errors past resign. + Long-growing hope, and lofty plan, + Leave thou to us, to whom such things belong.' + 'To you!' replied the old man, hale and strong; + 'I dare pronounce you altogether wrong. + The settled part of man's estate + Is very brief, and comes full late. + To those pale, gaming sisters trine, + Your lives are stakes as well as mine. + While so uncertain is the sequel, + Our terms of future life are equal; + For none can tell who last shall close his eyes + Upon the glories of these azure skies; + Nor any moment give us, ere it flies, + Assurance that another such shall rise, + But my descendants, whosoe'er they be, + Shall owe these cooling fruits and shades to me. + Do you acquit yourselves, in wisdom's sight, + From ministering to other hearts delight? + Why, boys, this is the fruit I gather now; + And sweeter never blush'd on bended bough. + Of this, to-morrow, I may take my fill; + Indeed, I may enjoy its sweetness till + I see full many mornings chase the glooms + From off the marble of your youthful tombs.' + The grey-beard man was right. One of the three, + Embarking, foreign lands to see, + Was drown'd within the very port. + In quest of dignity at court, + Another met his country's foe, + And perish'd by a random blow. + The third was kill'd by falling from a tree + Which he himself would graft. The three + Were mourn'd by him of hoary head, + Who chisel'd on each monument-- + On doing good intent-- + The things which we have said. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI13">13</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="11IX">IX</a>.--THE MICE AND THE OWL.</h4> +<pre> + Beware of saying, 'Lend an ear,' + To something marvellous or witty. + To disappoint your friends who hear, + Is possible, and were a pity. + But now a clear exception see, + Which I maintain a prodigy-- + A thing which with the air of fable, + Is true as is the interest-table. + A pine was by a woodman fell'd, + Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree + An owl had for his palace held-- + A bird the Fates[<a href="#XI14">14</a>] had kept in fee, + Interpreter to such as we. + Within the caverns of the pine, + With other tenants of that mine, + Were found full many footless mice, + But well provision'd, fat, and nice. + The bird had bit off all their feet, + And fed them there with heaps of wheat. + That this owl reason'd, who can doubt? + When to the chase he first went out, + And home alive the vermin brought, + Which in his talons he had caught, + The nimble creatures ran away. + Next time, resolved to make them stay, + He cropp'd their legs, and found, with pleasure, + That he could eat them at his leisure; + It were impossible to eat + Them all at once, did health permit. + His foresight, equal to our own, + In furnishing their food was shown. + Now, let Cartesians, if they can, + Pronounce this owl a mere machine. + Could springs originate the plan + Of maiming mice when taken lean, + To fatten for his soup-tureen? + If reason did no service there, + I do not know it anywhere. + Observe the course of argument: + These vermin are no sooner caught than gone: + They must be used as soon, 'tis evident; + But this to all cannot be done. + And then, for future need, + I might as well take heed. + Hence, while their ribs I lard, + I must from their elopement guard. + But how?--A plan complete!-- + I'll clip them of their feet! + Now, find me, in your human schools, + A better use of logic's tools! + Upon your faith, what different art of thought + Has Aristotle or his followers taught?[<a href="#XI15">15</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI14">14</a>] <i>A bird the Fates</i>, &c.--The owl was the bird of Atropos, the + most terrible of the Fates, to whom was entrusted the task of + cutting the thread of life.<br> +[<a name="XI15">15</a>] La Fontaine, in a note, asserts that the subject of this fable, + however marvellous, was a fact which was actually observed. His + commentators, however, think the observers must have been in some + measure mistaken, and I agree with them.--Translator. In <a href="#10I">Fable I., + Book X.</a>, La Fontaine also argues that brutes have reasoning + faculties.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4>EPILOGUE.</h4> +<pre> + 'Tis thus, by crystal fount, my muse hath sung, + Translating into heavenly tongue + Whatever came within my reach, + From hosts of beings borr'wing nature's speech. + Interpreter of tribes diverse, + I've made them actors on my motley stage; + For in this boundless universe + There's none that talketh, simpleton or sage, + More eloquent at home than in my verse. + If some should find themselves by me the worse, + And this my work prove not a model true, + To that which I at least rough-hew, + Succeeding hands will give the finish due. + Ye pets of those sweet sisters nine, + Complete the task that I resign; + The lessons give, which doubtless I've omitted, + With wings by these inventions nicely fitted! + But you're already more than occupied; + For while my muse her harmless work hath plied, + All Europe to our sovereign yields,[<a href="#XI16">16</a>] + And learns, upon her battle-fields, + To bow before the noblest plan + That ever monarch form'd, or man. + Thence draw those sisters themes sublime, + With power to conquer Fate and Time.[<a href="#XI17">17</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XI16">16</a>] <i>All Europe to our sovereign yields</i>.--An allusion to the + conclusion of the peace of Nimeguen by Louis XIV., in 1678. Louis to + some extent negotiated the treaty of this peace in person, and + having bought the support of the English king, Charles II. (as shown + in the <a href="#VII30">note to Fable XVIII., Book VII.</a>) the terms of the treaty were + almost his own. The glory of the achievement procured for Louis the + surname of "le Grand." The king's praises upon this account are + further sounded by La Fontaine in <a href="#12X">Fable X., Book XII</a>.<br> + +[<a name="XI17">17</a>] With the Epilogue to the XIth Book La Fontaine concluded his issue + of Fables up to 1678-9. The XIIth and last Book was not added till + 1694, the year before the poet's death. See Translator's Preface.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> + +<h3><a name="XII">BOOK</a> XII.</h3> +<br><hr><br> + +<h4><a name="12I">I</a>.--THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.[<a href="#XII1">1</a>]</p> +<pre> + Dear prince, a special favourite of the skies, + Pray let my incense from your altars rise. + With these her gifts, if rather late my muse, + My age and labours must her fault excuse. + My spirit wanes, while yours beams on the sight + At every moment with augmented light: + It does not go--it runs,--it seems to fly; + And he from whom it draws its traits so high, + In war a hero,[<a href="#XII2">2</a>] burns to do the same. + No lack of his that, with victorious force, + His giant strides mark not his glory's course: + Some god retains: our sovereign I might name; + Himself no less than conqueror divine, + Whom one short month made master of the Rhine. + It needed then upon the foe to dash; + Perhaps, to-day, such generalship were rash. + But hush,--they say the Loves and Smiles + Abhor a speech spun out in miles; + And of such deities your court + Is constantly composed, in short. + Not but that other gods, as meet, + There hold the highest seat: + For, free and lawless as the rest may seem, + Good Sense and Reason bear a sway supreme. + Consult these last about the case + Of certain men of Grecian race, + Who, most unwise and indiscreet, + Imbibed such draughts of poison sweet, + As changed their form, and brutified. + Ten years the heroes at Ulysses' side + Had been the sport of wind and tide. + At last those powers of water + The sea-worn wanderers bore + To that enchanted shore + Where Circe reign'd, Apollo's daughter. + She press'd upon their thirsty lips + Delicious drink, but full of bane: + Their reason, at the first light sips, + Laid down the sceptre of its reign. + Then took their forms and features + The lineaments of various creatures. + To bears and lions some did pass, + Or elephants of ponderous mass; + While not a few, I ween, + In smaller forms were seen,-- + In such, for instance, as the mole. + Of all, the sage Ulysses sole + Had wit to shun that treacherous bowl. + With wisdom and heroic mien, + And fine address, he caused the queen + To swallow, on her wizard throne, + A poison somewhat like her own. + A goddess, she to speak her wishes dared, + And hence, at once, her love declared. + Ulysses, truly too judicious + To lose a moment so propitious, + Besought that Circe would restore + His Greeks the shapes that first they wore. + Replied the nymph, 'But will they take them back? + Go make the proffer to the motley pack.' + Ulysses ran, both glad and sure: + 'That poisonous cup,' cried he 'hath yet its cure; + And here I bring what ends your shame and pain. + Will you, dear friends, be men again? + Pray speak, for speech is now restored.' + 'No,' said the lion,--and he roar'd,-- + 'My head is not so void of brains! + Renounce shall I my royal gains? + I've claws and teeth to tear my foes to bits, + And, more than that, I'm king. + Am I such gifts away to fling, + To be but one of Ithaca's mere cits? + In rank and file perhaps I might bear arms. + In such a change I see no charms.'-- + Ulysses passes to the bear:-- + 'How changed, my friend, from what you were! + How sightly once! how ugly now!' + 'Humph! truly how?' + Growl'd Bruin in his way-- + 'How else than as a bear should be, I pray? + Who taught your stilted highness to prefer + One form to every other, sir? + Doth yours possess peculiar powers + The merits to decide, of ours? + With all respect, I shall appeal my case + To some sweet beauty of the bearish race. + Please pass it by, if you dislike my face. + I live content, and free from care; + And, well remembering what we were, + I say it, plain and flat, + I'll change to no such state as that.' + Next to the wolf the princely Greek + With flattering hope began to speak:-- + 'Comrade, I blush, I must confess, + To hear a gentle shepherdess + Complaining to the echoing rocks + Of that outrageous appetite + Which drives you, night by night, + To prey upon her flocks. + You had been proud to guard her fold + In your more honest life of old. + Pray quit this wolfship, now you can, + And leave the woods an honest man.' + 'But is there one?' the wolf replied: + 'Such man, I own, I never spied. + You treat me as a ravenous beast, + But what are you? To say the least, + You would yourself have eat the sheep, + Which, eat by me, the village weep. + Now, truly, on your faith confess, + Should I, as man, love flesh the less? + Why, man, not seldom, kills his very brother; + What, then, are you but wolves to one another? + Now, everything with care to scan, + And rogue with rogue to rate, + I'd better be a wolf than man, + And need not change my state.' + Thus all did wise Ulysses try, + And got from all the same reply, + As well from great as small. + Wild liberty was dear to all; + To follow lawless appetite + They counted their supreme delight. + All banish'd from their thought and care + The glorious praise of actions fair. + Where passion led, they thought their course was free; + Self-bound, their chains they could not see. + + Prince, I had wish'd for you a theme to choose, + Where I might mingle pleasantry with use; + And I should meet with your approving voice, + No doubt, if I could make such choice. + At last, Ulysses' crew + Were offer'd to my view. + And there are like them not a few, + Who may for penalty await + Your censure and your hate.[<a href="#XII3">3</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII1">1</a>] <i>Duke de Bourgogne</i>.--Louis Duke de Bourgogne (Burgundy), + grandson of Louis XIV. He was the son of Louis de Bourbon, the + Dauphin, to whom La Fontaine had dedicated the first collection of + his Fables. (See note, Dedication of Book I.) He was born in 1682, + and at the time of this dedication was about twelve years of age, and + the pupil of Fénélon. See Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="XII2">2</a>] <i>In war a hero</i>.--Louis, the Dauphin, father of the prince + addressed. The Dauphin was then in command of the army in Germany.<br> +[<a name="XII3">3</a>] This fable was first printed in the <i>Mercure Galant</i>, December, + 1690, where it had a few additional lines, which the author cut out + on republication in his XIIth Book.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12II">II</a>.--THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.[<a href="#XII4">4</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.</p> +<pre> + Contemporary with a sparrow tame + There lived a cat; from tenderest age, + Of both, the basket and the cage + Had household gods the same. + The bird's sharp beak full oft provoked the cat, + Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, + His wee friend sparing with a merry laugh, + Not punishing his faults by half. + In short, he scrupled much the harm, + Should he with points his ferule arm. + The sparrow, less discreet than he, + With dagger beak made very free. + Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, + Excused the warmth with which he play'd: + For 'tis full half of friendship's art + To take no joke in serious part. + Familiar since they saw the light, + Mere habit kept their friendship good; + Fair play had never turn'd to fight, + Till, of their neighbourhood, + Another sparrow came to greet + Old Ratto grave and saucy Pete. + Between the birds a quarrel rose, + And Ratto took his side. + 'A pretty stranger, with such blows + To beat our friend!' he cried. + 'A neighbour's sparrow eating ours! + Not so, by all the feline powers.' + And quick the stranger he devours. + 'Now, truly,' saith Sir Cat, + I know how sparrows taste by that. + Exquisite, tender, delicate!' + This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.-- + But hence what moral can I bring? + For, lacking that important thing, + A fable lacks its finishing: + I seem to see of one some trace, + But still its shadow mocks my chase. + Yours, prince, it will not thus abuse: + For you such sports, and not my muse. + In wit, she and her sisters eight + Would fail to match you with a mate. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII4">4</a>] The story of this fable seems to come from a fable by Furetière, + titled "The Dog and the Cat." Antony Furetière was more famous as a + lexicographer, and through his angry contention with the French + Academy on the subject of his Dictionary, than as a poet. He lived + between 1620 and 1688.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12III">III</a>.--THE MISER AND THE MONKEY.[<a href="#XII5">5</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A man amass'd. The thing, we know, + Doth often to a frenzy grow. + No thought had he but of his minted gold-- + Stuff void of worth when unemploy'd, I hold. + Now, that this treasure might the safer be, + Our miser's dwelling had the sea + As guard on every side from every thief. + With pleasure, very small in my belief, + But very great in his, he there + Upon his hoard bestow'd his care. + No respite came of everlasting + Recounting, calculating, casting; + For some mistake would always come + To mar and spoil the total sum. + A monkey there, of goodly size,-- + And than his lord, I think, more wise,-- + Some doubloons from the window threw, + And render'd thus the count untrue. + The padlock'd room permitted + Its owner, when he quitted, + To leave his money on the table. + One day, bethought this monkey wise + To make the whole a sacrifice + To Neptune on his throne unstable. + I could not well award the prize + Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure + Derived from that devoted treasure. + With some, Don Bertrand, would the honour gain, + For reasons it were tedious to explain. + One day, then, left alone, + That animal, to mischief prone, + Coin after coin detach'd, + A gold jacobus snatch'd, + Or Portuguese doubloon, + Or silver ducatoon, + Or noble, of the English rose, + And flung with all his might + Those discs, which oft excite + The strongest wishes mortal ever knows. + Had he not heard, at last, + The turning of his master's key, + The money all had pass'd + The same short road to sea; + And not a single coin but had been pitch'd + Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd. + + Now, God preserve full many a financier + Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here! +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII5">5</a>] The story is traced to the episode in Tristan L'Hermite's romance + titled "Le Page disgracie," treating of "The Monkey and Master + Robert." L'Hermite lived 1601-1655.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12IV">IV</a>.--THE TWO GOATS.[<a href="#XII6">6</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, + To follow fortune they've aspired. + To pasturage they're wont to roam + Where men are least disposed to come. + If any pathless place there be, + Or cliff, or pendent precipice, + 'Tis there they cut their capers free: + There's nought can stop these dames, I wis. + Two goats, thus self-emancipated,-- + The white that on their feet they wore + Look'd back to noble blood of yore,-- + Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, + And sought the hills, as it would seem: + In search of luck, by luck they met + Each other at a mountain stream. + As bridge a narrow plank was set, + On which, if truth must be confest, + Two weasels scarce could go abreast. + And then the torrent, foaming white, + As down it tumbled from the height, + Might well those Amazons affright. + But maugre such a fearful rapid, + Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid! + I seem to see our Louis Grand[<a href="#XII7">7</a>] + And Philip IV. advance + To the Isle of Conference,[<a href="#XII8">8</a>] + That lies 'twixt Spain and France, + Each sturdy for his glorious land. + Thus each of our adventurers goes, + Till foot to foot, and nose to nose, + Somewhere about the midst they meet, + And neither will an inch retreat. + For why? they both enjoy'd the glory + Of ancestors in ancient story. + The one, a goat of peerless rank, + Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, + The Cyclop gave to Galataea;[<a href="#XII9">9</a>] + The other famous Amalthaea,[<a href="#XII10">10</a>] + The goat that suckled Jupiter, + As some historians aver. + For want of giving back, in troth, + A common fall involved them both.-- + A common accident, no doubt, + On Fortune's changeful route.[<a href="#XII11">11</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII6">6</a>] This and several others of the fables in the XIIth Book are taken + from the "Thèmes" of the Duke de Bourgogne, afterwards published in + Robert's "Fables Inédites." These "Thèmes," were the joint + composition of Fénélon, his pupil the infant Duke de Bourgogne, and + La Fontaine, and were first used in the education of the Duke. + Fénélon suggested the story, the pupil put it into prose, and La + Fontaine versified it. La Fontaine is eulogistic of the young Duke's + "wit" in putting these "Thèmes" into prose in <a href="#12IX">Fable IX., Book XII</a>.<br> +[<a name="XII7">7</a>] <i>Louis Grand</i>.--Louis XIV. See note to Epilogue of Book XI.<br> +[<a name="XII8">8</a>] <i>The Isle of Conference</i>.--The Pheasants' Isle in the river + Bidassoa, which separates France and Spain. It is called the Isle of + Conference on account of several of the Conferences, leading to + Treaties, &c., between the two countries, having been held there.<br> +[<a name="XII9">9</a>] <i>The Cyclop gave to Galataea</i>.--Polyphemus and Galataea: + <i>vide</i> Theocritus, <i>Idyl</i> XI.<br> +[<a name="XII10">10</a>] <i>Amalthaea</i>.--Another story is that Amalthaea was not a goat, + but a nymph of Crete, who fed the infant Jupiter with goat's milk.<br> +[<a name="XII11">11</a>] In the original the last lines differ from those in the version of + La Fontaine's "Oeuvres Posthumes," published in 1696, the year after + the poet's death. Indeed, variations of text are common to most of + the fables of the XIIth Book, on making the same comparison, viz., + of the first edition, 1694, and the edition in the "Oeuvres + Posthumes."</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12V">V</a>.--THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Monseigneur, The Duke De Bourgogne; Who Had Requested Of M. De La +Fontaine A Fable Which Should Be Called "The Cat And The Mouse."</p> +<pre> + To please a youthful prince, whom Fame + A temple in my writings vows, + What fable answers to the name, + "The Cat and Mouse?" + Shall I in verse the fair present, + With softest look but hard intent, + Who serves the hearts her charms entice + As does the cat its captive mice? + Or make my subject Fortune's sport? + She treats the friends that make her court, + And follow closest her advice, + As treats the cat the silly mice. + + Shall I for theme a king select + Who sole, of all her favourites, + Commands the goddess's respect? + For whom she from her wheel alights. + Who, never stay'd by foes a trice, + Whene'er they block his way, + Can with the strongest play + As doth the cat with mice! + Insensibly, while casting thus about, + Quite anxious for my subject's sake, + A theme I meet, and, if I don't mistake, + Shall spoil it, too, by spinning out. + The prince will treat my muse, for that, + As mice are treated by the cat. + + A young and inexperienced mouse + Had faith to try a veteran cat,[<a href="#XII12">12</a>]-- + Raminagrobis, death to rat, + And scourge of vermin through the house,-- + Appealing to his clemency + With reasons sound and fair. + 'Pray let me live; a mouse like me + It were not much to spare. + Am I, in such a family, + A burden? Would my largest wish + Our wealthy host impoverish? + A grain of wheat will make my meal; + A nut will fat me like a seal. + I'm lean at present; please to wait, + And for your heirs reserve my fate.' + The captive mouse thus spake. + Replied the captor, 'You mistake; + To me shall such a thing be said? + Address the deaf! address the dead! + A cat to pardon!--old one too! + Why, such a thing I never knew. + Thou victim of my paw, + By well-establish'd law, + Die as a mousling should, + And beg the sisterhood + Who ply the thread and shears, + To lend thy speech their ears. + Some other like repast + My heirs may find, or fast.' + He ceased. The moral's plain. + Youth always hopes its ends to gain, + Believes all spirits like its own: + Old age is not to mercy prone. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII12">12</a>] The story is from Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12VI">VI</a>.--THE SICK STAG.[<a href="#XII13">13</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A stag, where stags abounded, + Fell sick, and was surrounded + Forthwith by comrades kind, + All pressing to assist, + Or see, their friend, at least, + And ease his anxious mind-- + An irksome multitude. + 'Ah, sirs!' the sick was fain to cry, + 'Pray leave me here to die, + As others do, in solitude. + Pray, let your kind attentions cease, + Till death my spirit shall release.' + But comforters are not so sent: + On duty sad full long intent, + When Heaven pleased, they went: + But not without a friendly glass; + That is to say, they cropp'd the grass + And leaves which in that quarter grew, + From which the sick his pittance drew. + By kindness thus compell'd to fast, + He died for want of food at last. + The men take off no trifling dole + Who heal the body, or the soul. + Alas the times! do what we will, + They have their payment, cure or kill. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII13">13</a>] "The Gazelle" in Lokman's Fables.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12VII">VII</a>.--THE BAT, THE BUSH, AND THE DUCK.[<a href="#XII14">14</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A bush, duck, and bat, having found that in trade, + Confined to their country, small profits were made, + Into partnership enter'd to traffic abroad, + Their purse, held in common, well guarded from fraud. + Their factors and agents, these trading allies + Employ'd where they needed, as cautious as wise: + Their journals and ledgers, exact and discreet, + Recorded by items expense and receipt. + All throve, till an argosy, on its way home, + With a cargo worth more than their capital sum, + In attempting to pass through a dangerous strait, + Went down with its passengers, sailors, and freight, + To enrich those enormous and miserly stores, + From Tartarus distant but very few doors. + Regret was a thing which the firm could but feel; + Regret was the thing they were slow to reveal; + For the least of a merchant well knows that the weal + Of his credit requires him his loss to conceal. + But that which our trio unluckily suffer'd + Allow'd no repair, and of course was discover'd. + No money nor credit, 'twas plain to be seen + Their heads were now threaten'd with bonnets of green;[<a href="#XII15">15</a>] + And, the facts of the case being everywhere known, + No mortal would open his purse with a loan. + Debts, bailiffs, and lawsuits, and creditors gruff, + At the crack of day knocking, + (Importunity shocking!) + Our trio kept busy enough. + The bush, ever ready and on the alert, + Now caught all the people it could by the skirt:-- + 'Pray, sir, be so good as to tell, if you please, + If you know whereabout the old villanous seas + Have hid all our goods which they stole t' other night. + The diver, to seek them, went down out of sight. + The bat didn't venture abroad in the day, + And thus of the bailiffs kept out of the way. + + Full many insolvents, not bats, to hide so, + Nor bushes, nor divers, I happen to know, + But even grand seigniors, quite free from all cares, + By virtue of brass, and of private backstairs. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII14">14</a>] Aesop.<br> +[<a name="XII15">15</a>] <i>With bonnets of green.</i>--Such as insolvent debtors were + anciently required to wear, in France, after making cession of their + effects, in order to escape imprisonment.--Translator. The custom + also prevailed in Italy.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12VIII">VIII</a>.--THE QUARREL OF THE DOGS AND CATS, AND THAT OF THE CATS AND MICE.</h4> +<pre> + Enthroned by an eternal law, + Hath Discord reign'd throughout the universe. + In proof, I might from this our planet draw + A thousand instances diverse. + Within the circle of our view, + This queen hath subjects not a few. + Beginning with the elements, + It is astonishing to see + How they have stood, to all intents, + As wrestlers from eternity. + Besides these four great potentates, + Old stubborn earth, fire, flood, and air, + How many other smaller states + Are waging everlasting war! + In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, + Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes; + Decrees, promulged in manner solemn, + Had pacified their ancient feuds. + Their lord had so arranged their meals and labours, + And threaten'd quarrels with the whip, + That, living in sweet cousinship, + They edified their wondering neighbours. + At last, some dainty plate to lick, + Or profitable bone to pick, + Bestow'd by some partiality, + Broke up the smooth equality. + The side neglected were indignant + At such a slight malignant. + Some writers make the whole dispute begin + With favours to a bitch while lying in. + Whate'er the cause, the altercation + Soon grew a perfect conflagration. + In hall and kitchen, dog and cat + Took sides with zeal for this or that. + New rules upon the cat side falling + Produced tremendous caterwauling. + Their advocate, against such rules as these, + Advised recurrence to the old decrees. + They search'd in vain, for, hidden in a nook, + The thievish mice had eaten up the book. + Another quarrel, in a trice, + Made many sufferers with the mice; + For many a veteran whisker'd-face, + With craft and cunning richly stored, + And grudges old against the race, + Now watch'd to put them to the sword; + Nor mourn'd for this that mansion's lord. + + Resuming our discourse, we see + No creature from opponents free. + 'Tis nature's law for earth and sky; + 'Twere vain to ask the reason why; + God's works are good,--I cannot doubt it,-- + And that is all I know about it. + I know, however, that the cause + Which hath our human quarrels brought, + Three quarters of the time, is nought + That will be, is, or ever was. + Ye veterans, in state and church, + At threescore years, indeed, + It seems there still is need + To give you lessons with the birch! +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12IX">IX</a>.--THE WOLF AND THE FOX.</h4> +<pre> + Whence comes it that there liveth not + A man contented with his lot? + Here's one who would a soldier be, + Whom soldiers all with envy see. + + A fox to be a wolf once sigh'd. + With disappointments mortified, + Who knows but that, his wolfship cheap, + The wolf himself would be a sheep? + + I marvel that a prince[<a href="#XII16">16</a>] is able, + At eight, to put the thing in fable; + While I, beneath my seventy snows, + Forge out, with toil and time, + The same in labour'd rhyme, + Less striking than his prose. + + The traits which in his work we meet, + A poet, it must be confess'd, + Could not have half so well express'd: + He bears the palm as more complete. + 'Tis mine to sing it to the pipe; + But I expect that when the sands + Of Time have made my hero ripe, + He'll put a trumpet in my hands. + + My mind but little doth aspire + To prophecy; but yet it reads + On high, that soon his glorious deeds + Full many Homers will require-- + Of which this age produces few. + But, bidding mysteries adieu, + I try my powers upon this fable new. + + 'Dear wolf,' complain'd a hungry fox, + 'A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, + Is all I get by toil or trick: + Of such a living I am sick. + With far less risk, you've better cheer; + A house you need not venture near, + But I must do it, spite of fear. + Pray, make me master of your trade. + And let me by that means be made + The first of all my race that took + Fat mutton to his larder's hook: + Your kindness shall not be repented.' + The wolf quite readily consented. + 'I have a brother, lately dead: + Go fit his skin to yours,' he said. + 'Twas done; and then the wolf proceeded: + 'Now mark you well what must be done, + The dogs that guard the flock to shun.' + The fox the lessons strictly heeded. + At first he boggled in his dress; + But awkwardness grew less and less, + Till perseverance gave success. + His education scarce complete, + A flock, his scholarship to greet, + Came rambling out that way. + The new-made wolf his work began, + Amidst the heedless nibblers ran, + And spread a sore dismay. + Such terror did Patroclus[<a href="#XII17">17</a>] spread, + When on the Trojan camp and town, + Clad in Achilles' armour dread, + He valiantly came down. + The matrons, maids, and aged men + All hurried to the temples then.-- + The bleating host now surely thought + That fifty wolves were on the spot: + Dog, shepherd, sheep, all homeward fled, + And left a single sheep in pawn, + Which Renard seized when they were gone. + But, ere upon his prize he fed, + There crow'd a cock near by, and down + The scholar threw his prey and gown, + That he might run that way the faster-- + Forgetting lessons, prize and master. + How useless is the art of seeming! + Reality, in every station, + Is through its cloak at all times gleaming, + And bursting out on fit occasion. + + Young prince, to your unrivall'd wit + My muse gives credit, as is fit, + For what she here hath labour'd with-- + The subject, characters, and pith. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII16">16</a>] A prince.--The infant Duke de Bourgogne. See Note to Table IV., Book + XII. The context shows that La Fontaine was over seventy when this + fable was written.<br> +[<a name="XII17">17</a>] <i>Patroclus</i>.--In the Trojan war, when Achilles, on his + difference with Agamemnon, remained inactive in his tent, Patroclus, + his friend, put on Achilles' "armour dread," and so caused dire + alarm to the Trojans, who thought that Achilles had at last taken + the field.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12X">X</a>.--THE LOBSTER AND HER DAUGHTER.[<a href="#XII18">18</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, + To gain their ends back foremost go. + It is the rower's art; and those + Commanders who mislead their foes, + Do often seem to aim their sight + Just where they don't intend to smite. + My theme, so low, may yet apply + To one whose fame is very high, + Who finds it not the hardest matter + A hundred-headed league to scatter. + What he will do, what leave undone, + Are secrets with unbroken seals, + Till victory the truth reveals. + Whatever he would have unknown + Is sought in vain. Decrees of Fate + Forbid to check, at first, the course + Which sweeps at last with torrent force. + One Jove, as ancient fables state, + Exceeds a hundred gods in weight. + So Fate and Louis[<a href="#XII19">19</a>] would seem able + The universe to draw, + Bound captive to their law.-- + But come we to our fable. + A mother lobster did her daughter chide: + 'For shame, my daughter! can't you go ahead?' + 'And how go you yourself?' the child replied; + 'Can I be but by your example led? + Head foremost should I, singularly, wend, + While all my race pursue the other end.' + She spoke with sense: for better or for worse, + Example has a universal force. + To some it opens wisdom's door, + But leads to folly many more. + Yet, as for backing to one's aim, + When properly pursued + The art is doubtless good, + At least in grim Bellona's game. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII18">18</a>] Aesop; also in Avianus.<br> +[<a name="XII19">19</a>] <i>Louis</i>.--Louis XIV.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XI">XI</a>.--THE EAGLE AND THE MAGPIE.[<a href="#XII20">20</a>]</h4> +<pre> + The eagle, through the air a queen, + And one far different, I ween, + In temper, language, thought, and mien,-- + The magpie,--once a prairie cross'd. + The by-path where they met was drear, + And Madge gave up herself for lost; + But having dined on ample cheer, + The eagle bade her, 'Never fear; + You're welcome to my company; + For if the king of gods can be + Full oft in need of recreation,-- + Who rules the world,--right well may I, + Who serve him in that high relation: + Amuse me, then, before you fly.' + Our cackler, pleased, at quickest rate + Of this and that began to prate. + Not he of whom old Flaccus writes, + The most impertinent of wights, + Or any babbler, for that matter, + Could more incontinently chatter. + At last she offer'd to make known-- + A better spy had never flown-- + All things, whatever she might see, + In travelling from tree to tree. + But, with her offer little pleased-- + Nay, gathering wrath at being teased,-- + For such a purpose, never rove,-- + Replied th' impatient bird of Jove. + 'Adieu, my cackling friend, adieu; + My court is not the place for you: + Heaven keep it free from such a bore!' + Madge flapp'd her wings, and said no more. + + 'Tis far less easy than it seems + An entrance to the great to gain. + The honour oft hath cost extremes + Of mortal pain. + The craft of spies, the tattling art, + And looks more gracious than the heart, + Are odious there; + But still, if one would meet success, + Of different parishes the dress + He, like the pie, must wear. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII20">20</a>] Abstemius.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XII">XII</a>.--THE KING, THE KITE, AND THE FALCONER.[<a href="#XII21">21</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To His August Highness, Monseigneur The Prince De Conti.[<a href="#XII22">22</a>]</p> +<pre> + The gods, for that themselves are good, + The like in mortal monarchs would. + The prime of royal rights is grace; + To this e'en sweet revenge gives place. + So thinks your highness,--while your wrath + Its cradle for its coffin hath. + Achilles no such conquest knew-- + In this a hero less than you. + That name indeed belongs to none, + Save those who have, beneath the sun, + Their hundred generous actions done. + The golden age produced such powers, + But truly few this age of ours. + The men who now the topmost sit, + Are thank'd for crimes which they omit. + For you, unharm'd by such examples, + A thousand noble deeds are winning temples, + Wherein Apollo, by the altar-fire, + Shall strike your name upon his golden lyre. + The gods await you in their azure dome; + One age must serve for this your lower home. + One age entire with you would Hymen dwell:[<a href="#XII23">23</a>] + O that his sweetest spell + For you a destiny may bind + By such a period scarce confined! + The princess and yourself no less deserve. + Her charms as witnesses shall serve; + As witnesses, those talents high + Pour'd on you by the lavish sky, + Outshining all pretence of peers + Throughout your youthful years. + A Bourbon seasons grace with wit: + To that which gains esteem, in mixture fit, + He adds a portion from, above, + Wherewith to waken love. + To paint your joy--my task is less sublime: + I therefore turn aside to rhyme + What did a certain bird of prey. + + A kite, possessor of a nest antique, + Was caught alive one day. + It was the captor's freak + That this so rare a bird + Should on his sovereign be conferr'd. + The kite, presented by the man of chase, + With due respect, before the monarch's face, + If our account is true, + Immediately flew + And perch'd upon the royal nose. + What! on the nose of majesty? + Ay, on the consecrated nose did he! + Had not the king his sceptre and his crown? + Why, if he had, or had not, 'twere all one: + The royal nose, as if it graced a clown, + Was seized. The things by courtiers done, + And said, and shriek'd, 'twere hopeless to relate. + The king in silence sate: + An outcry, from a sovereign king, + Were quite an unbecoming thing. + The bird retain'd the post where he had fasten'd; + No cries nor efforts his departure hasten'd. + His master call'd, as in an agony of pain, + Presented lure and fist, but all in vain. + It seem'd as if the cursed bird, + With instinct most absurd, + In spite of all the noise and blows, + Would roost upon that sacred nose! + The urging off of courtiers, pages, master, + But roused his will to cling the faster. + At last he quit, as thus the monarch spoke: + 'Give egress hence, imprimis, to this kite, + And, next, to him who aim'd at our delight. + From each his office we revoke. + The one as kite we now discharge; + The other, as a forester at large. + As in our station it is fit, + We do all punishment remit.' + The court admired. The courtiers praised the deed, + In which themselves did but so ill succeed.-- + Few kings had taken such a course. + The fowler might have fared far worse; + His only crime, as of his kite, + Consisted in his want of light, + About the danger there might be + In coming near to royalty. + Forsooth, their scope had wholly been + Within the woods. Was that a sin?-- + By Pilpay this remarkable affair + Is placed beside the Ganges' flood. + No human creature ventures, there, + To shed of animals the blood: + The deed not even royalty would dare. + 'Know we,' they say,--both lord and liege,-- + 'This bird saw not the Trojan siege? + Perhaps a hero's part he bore, + And there the highest helmet wore. + What once he was, he yet may be. + Taught by Pythagoras are we, + That we our forms with animals exchange; + We're kites or pigeons for a while, + Then biped plodders on the soil; + And then + As volatile, again + The liquid air we range.--' + Now since two versions of this tale exist, + I'll give the other if you list. + A certain falconer had caught + A kite, and for his sovereign thought + The bird a present rich and rare. + It may be once a century + Such game is taken from the air; + For 'tis the pink of falconry. + The captor pierced the courtier crowd, + With zeal and sweat, as if for life; + Of such a princely present proud, + His hopes of fortune sprang full rife; + When, slap, the savage made him feel + His talons, newly arm'd with steel, + By perching on his nasal member, + As if it had been senseless timber. + Outshriek'd the wight; but peals of laughter, + Which threaten'd ceiling, roof, and rafter, + From courtier, page, and monarch broke: + Who had not laugh'd at such a joke? + From me, so prone am I to such a sin, + An empire had not held me in. + I dare not say, that, had the pope been there, + He would have join'd the laugh sonorous; + But sad the king, I hold, who should not dare + To lead, for such a cause, in such a chorus. + The gods are laughers. Spite of ebon brows, + Jove joints the laugh which he allows. + As history saith, the thunderer's laugh went up + When limping Vulcan served the nectar cup. + Whether or not immortals here are wise, + Good sense, I think, in my digression lies. + For, since the moral's what we have in view, + What could the falconer's fate have taught us new? + Who does not notice, in the course of things, + More foolish falconers than indulgent kings? +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII21">21</a>] Bidpaii.<br> +[<a name="XII22">22</a>] <i>Prince de Conti</i>.--This was Francis-Louis, Prince de la + Roche-sur-Yon and de Conti, another of La Fontaine's great friends + at court. He was born in Paris, 1664, and died in 1709.<br> +[<a name="XII23">23</a>] <i>Would Hymen dwell</i>.--An allusion to the marriage of the Prince + with Marie-Thérèsa de Bourbon (Mdlle. de Blois, the daughter of the + King and La Vallière), which took place in 1688.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XIII">XIII</a>.--THE FOX, THE FLIES, AND THE HEDGEHOG.[<a href="#XII24">24</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly,-- + By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud,-- + Attracted, by the traces of his blood, + That buzzing parasite, the fly. + He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why + The Fates so cruelly should wish + To feast the fly on such a costly dish. + 'What! light on me! make me its food! + Me, me, the nimblest of the wood! + How long has fox-meat been so good? + What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight? + Go,--Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate!-- + And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!' + A hedgehog, witnessing his pains, + (This fretful personage + Here graces first my page,) + Desired to set him free + From such cupidity. + 'My neighbour fox,' said he, + My quills these rascals shall empale, + And ease thy torments without fail.' + 'Not for the world, my friend!' the fox replied. + 'Pray let them finish their repast. + These flies are full. Should they be set aside, + New hungrier swarms would finish me at last.' + Consumers are too common here below, + In court and camp, in church and state, we know. + Old Aristotle's penetration + Remark'd our fable's application; + It might more clearly in our nation. + The fuller certain men are fed, + The less the public will be bled. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII24">24</a>] Aesop; also Philibert Hegemon, and others.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XIV">XIV</a>.--LOVE AND FOLLY.[<a href="#XII25">25</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Love bears a world of mystery-- + His arrows, quiver, torch, and infancy: + 'Tis not a trifling work to sound + A sea of science so profound: + And, hence, t' explain it all to-day + Is not my aim; but, in my simple way, + To show how that blind archer lad + (And he a god!) came by the loss of sight, + And eke what consequence the evil had, + Or good, perhaps, if named aright-- + A point I leave the lover to decide, + As fittest judge, who hath the matter tried. + Together on a certain day, + Said Love and Folly were at play: + The former yet enjoy'd his eyes. + Dispute arose. Love thought it wise + Before the council of the gods to go, + Where both of them by birth held stations; + But Folly, in her lack of patience, + Dealt on his forehead such a blow + As seal'd his orbs to all the light of heaven. + Now Venus claim'd that vengeance should be given. + And by what force of tears yourselves may guess + The woman and the mother sought redress. + The gods were deafen'd with her cries-- + Jove, Nemesis, the stern assize + Of Orcus,--all the gods, in short, + From whom she might the boon extort. + The enormous wrong she well portray'd-- + Her son a wretched groper made, + An ugly staff his steps to aid! + For such a crime, it would appear, + No punishment could be severe: + The damage, too, must be repair'd. + The case maturely weigh'd and cast, + The public weal with private squared: + Poor Folly was condemn'd at last, + By judgment of the court above, + To serve for aye as guide to Love.[<a href="#XII26">26</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII25">25</a>] It is thought that La Fontaine owed somewhat of his idea of this + fable to one of the poems of Louise Labbé, "the beautiful + ropemaker," as she was called, who lived between 1526 and 1566.<br> +[<a name="XII26">26</a>] This fable was first published in the collection of the "Works in + Prose, and Verse of the Sieurs Maucroix and La Fontaine," issued by + the joint authors in 1685. See, for M. de Maucroix, <a href="#III2">note to Fable + I., Book III</a>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XV">XV</a>.--THE RAVEN, THE GAZELLE, THE TORTOISE, AND THE RAT.[<a href="#XII27">27</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Madame De La Sablière.[<a href="#XII28">28</a>]</p> +<pre> + A temple I reserved you in my rhyme: + It might not be completed but with time. + Already its endurance I had grounded + Upon this charming art, divinely founded; + And on the name of that divinity + For whom its adoration was to be. + These words I should have written o'er its gate-- + TO IRIS IS THIS PALACE CONSECRATE; + Not her who served the queen divine; + For Juno's self, and he who crown'd her bliss, + Had thought it for their dignity, I wis, + To bear the messages of mine. + Within the dome the apotheosis + Should greet th' enraptured sight-- + All heaven, in pomp and order meet, + Conducting Iris to her seat + Beneath a canopy of light! + The walls would amply serve to paint her life,-- + A matter sweet, indeed, but little rife + In those events, which, order'd by the Fates, + Cause birth, or change, or overthrow of states. + The innermost should hold her image,-- + Her features, smiles, attractions there,-- + Her art of pleasing without care,-- + Her loveliness, that's sure of homage. + Some mortals, kneeling at her feet,[<a href="#XII29">29</a>]-- + Earth's noblest heroes,--should be seen; + Ay, demigods, and even gods, I ween: + (The worshipp'd of the world thinks meet, + Sometimes her altar to perfume.) + Her eyes, so far as that might be, + Her soul's rich jewel should illume; + Alas! but how imperfectly! + For could a heart that throbb'd to bless + Its friends with boundless tenderness,-- + Or could that heaven-descended mind + Which, in its matchless beauty, join'd + The strength of man with woman's grace,-- + Be given to sculptor to express? + O Iris, who canst charm the soul-- + Nay, bind it with supreme control,-- + Whom as myself I can but love,-- + (Nay, not that word: as I'm a man, + Your court has placed it under ban, + And we'll dismiss it,) pray approve + My filling up this hasty plan! + This sketch has here received a place, + A simple anecdote to grace, + Where friendship shows so sweet a face, + That in its features you may find + Somewhat accordant to your mind. + Not that the tale may kings beseem; + But he who winneth your esteem + Is not a monarch placed above + The need and influence of love, + But simple mortal, void of crown, + That would for friends his life lay down-- + Than which I know no friendlier act. + Four animals, in league compact, + Are now to give our noble race + A useful lesson in the case. + + Rat, raven, tortoise, and gazelle, + Once into firmest friendship fell. + 'Twas in a home unknown to man + That they their happiness began. + But safe from man there's no retreat: + Pierce you the loneliest wood, + Or dive beneath the deepest flood, + Or mount you where the eagles brood,-- + His secret ambuscade you meet. + The light gazelle, in harmless play, + Amused herself abroad one day, + When, by mischance, her track was found + And follow'd by the baying hound-- + That barbarous tool of barbarous man-- + From which far, far away she ran. + At meal-time to the others + The rat observed,--'My brothers, + How happens it that we + Are met to-day but three? + Is Miss Gazelle so little steady? + Hath she forgotten us already?' + Out cried the tortoise at the word,-- + 'Were I, as Raven is, a bird, + I'd fly this instant from my seat, + And learn what accident, and where, + Hath kept away our sister fair,-- + Our sister of the flying feet; + For of her heart, dear rat, + It were a shame to doubt of that.' + The raven flew; + He spied afar,--the face he knew,-- + The poor gazelle entangled in a snare, + In anguish vainly floundering there. + Straight back he turn'd, and gave the alarm; + For to have ask'd the sufferer now, + The why and wherefore, when and how, + She had incurr'd so great a harm,-- + And lose in vain debate + The turning-point of fate, + As would the master of a school,-- + He was by no means such a fool.[<a href="#XII30">30</a>] + On tidings of so sad a pith, + The three their council held forthwith. + By two it was the vote + To hasten to the spot + Where lay the poor gazelle. + 'Our friend here in his shell, + I think, will do as well + To guard the house,' the raven said; + 'For, with his creeping pace, + When would he reach the place? + Not till the deer were dead.' + Eschewing more debate, + They flew to aid their mate, + That luckless mountain roe. + The tortoise, too, resolved to go. + Behold him plodding on behind, + And plainly cursing in his mind, + The fate that left his legs to lack, + And glued his dwelling to his back. + The snare was cut by Rongemail, + (For so the rat they rightly hail). + Conceive their joy yourself you may. + Just then the hunter came that way, + And, 'Who hath filch'd my prey?' + Cried he, upon the spot + Where now his prey was not.-- + A hole hid Rongemail; + A tree the bird as well; + The woods, the free gazelle. + The hunter, well nigh mad, + To find no inkling could be had, + Espied the tortoise in his path, + And straightway check'd his wrath. + 'Why let my courage flag, + Because my snare has chanced to miss? + I'll have a supper out of this.' + He said, and put it in his bag. + And it had paid the forfeit so, + Had not the raven told the roe, + Who from her covert came, + Pretending to be lame. + The man, right eager to pursue, + Aside his wallet threw, + Which Rongemail took care + To serve as he had done the snare; + Thus putting to an end + The hunter's supper on his friend. + 'Tis thus sage Pilpay's tale I follow. + Were I the ward of golden-hair'd Apollo, + It were, by favour of that god, easy-- + And surely for your sake-- + As long a tale to make + As is the Iliad or Odyssey. + Grey Rongemail the hero's part should play, + Though each would be as needful in his way. + He of the mansion portable awoke + Sir Raven by the words he spoke, + To act the spy, and then the swift express. + The light gazelle alone had had th' address + The hunter to engage, and furnish time + For Rongemail to do his deed sublime. + Thus each his part perform'd. Which wins the prize? + The heart, so far as in my judgment lies.[<a href="#XII31">31</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII27">27</a>] Bidpaii.<br> +[<a name="XII28">28</a>] <i>Madame de la Sablière</i>.--See <a href="#X2">note to Fable I., Book X.</a>: also + Translator's Preface.<br> +[<a name="XII29">29</a>] <i>Some mortals kneeling at her feet</i>.--In allusion to the + distinguished company which assembled at the house of Madame de la + Sablière. See <a href="#X4">notes on John Sobieski (King John III., of Poland), + &c., Fable I., Book X</a>.<br> +[<a name="XII30">30</a>] <i>Such a fool</i>.--In allusion to <a href="#1XIX">Fable XIX., Book I</a>.<br> +[<a name="XII31">31</a>] This fable was also first published in the "Works" of De Maucroix + and La Fontaine, 1685. The text of the later issue is slightly + abridged.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XVI">XVI</a>.--THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN.[<a href="#XII32">32</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A certain wood-chopper lost or broke + From his axe's eye a bit of oak. + The forest must needs be somewhat spared + While such a loss was being repair'd. + Came the man at last, and humbly pray'd + That the woods would kindly lend to him-- + A moderate loan--a single limb, + Whereof might another helve be made, + And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. + O, the oaks and firs that then might stand, + A pride and a joy throughout the land, + For their ancientness and glorious charms! + The innocent Forest lent him arms; + But bitter indeed was her regret; + For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, + Did nought but his benefactress spoil + Of the finest trees that graced her soil; + And ceaselessly was she made to groan, + Doing penance for that fatal loan. + + Behold the world-stage and its actors, + Where benefits hurt benefactors!-- + A weary theme, and full of pain; + For where's the shade so cool and sweet, + Protecting strangers from the heat, + But might of such a wrong complain? + Alas! I vex myself in vain; + Ingratitude, do what I will, + Is sure to be the fashion still. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII32">32</a>] First published in 1685, in the "Works" of De Maucroix and La + Fontaine; a statement applying also to several of the remaining + fables.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XVII">XVII</a>.--THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HORSE.[<a href="#XII33">33</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fox, though young, by no means raw, + Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw: + 'Ho! neighbour wolf,' said he to one quite green, + 'A creature in our meadow I have seen,-- + Sleek, grand! I seem to see him yet,-- + The finest beast I ever met.' + 'Is he a stouter one than we?' + The wolf demanded, eagerly; + 'Some picture of him let me see.' + 'If I could paint,' said fox, 'I should delight + T' anticipate your pleasure at the sight; + But come; who knows? perhaps it is a prey + By fortune offer'd in our way.' + They went. The horse, turn'd loose to graze, + Not liking much their looks or ways, + Was just about to gallop off. + 'Sir,' said the fox, 'your humble servants, we + Make bold to ask you what your name may be.' + The horse, an animal with brains enough, + Replied, 'Sirs, you yourselves may read my name; + My shoer round my heel hath writ the same.' + The fox excus'd himself for want of knowledge: + 'Me, sir, my parents did not educate,-- + So poor, a hole was their entire estate. + My friend, the wolf, however, taught at college, + Could read it were it even Greek.' + The wolf, to flattery weak, + Approach'd to verify the boast; + For which four teeth he lost. + The high raised hoof came down with such a blow, + As laid him bleeding on the ground full low. + 'My brother,' said the fox, 'this shows how just + What once was taught me by a fox of wit,-- + Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ,-- + "All unknown things the wise mistrust."' +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII33">33</a>] Aesop.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XVIII">XVIII</a>.--THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS.</h4> +<pre> + Against a robber fox, a tree + Some turkeys served as citadel. + That villain, much provoked to see + Each standing there as sentinel, + Cried out, 'Such witless birds + At me stretch out their necks, and gobble! + No, by the powers! I'll give them trouble.' + He verified his words. + The moon, that shined full on the oak, + Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. + But fox, in arts of siege well versed, + Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. + He feign'd himself about to climb; + Walk'd on his hinder legs sublime; + Then death most aptly counterfeited, + And seem'd anon resuscitated. + A practiser of wizard arts + Could not have fill'd so many parts. + In moonlight he contrived to raise + His tail, and make it seem a blaze: + And countless other tricks like that. + Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. + Their constant vigilance at length, + As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. + Bewilder'd by the rigs he run, + They lost their balance one by one. + As Renard slew, he laid aside, + Till nearly half of them had died; + Then proudly to his larder bore, + And laid them up, an ample store. + + A foe, by being over-heeded, + Has often in his plan succeeded. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XIX">XIX</a>.--THE APE.</h4> +<pre> + There is an ape in Paris, + To which was given a wife: + Like many a one that marries, + This ape, in brutal strife, + Soon beat her out of life. + Their infant cries,--perhaps not fed,-- + But cries, I ween, in vain; + The father laughs: his wife is dead, + And he has other loves again, + Which he will also beat, I think,-- + Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink. + + For aught that's good, you need not look + Among the imitative tribe; + A monkey be it, or what makes a book-- + The worse, I deem--the aping scribe. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XX">XX</a>.--THE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER.</h4> +<pre> + A Scythian philosopher austere, + Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer, + Perform'd the tour of Greece, saw many things, + But, best, a sage,--one such as Virgil sings,-- + A simple, rustic man, that equal'd kings; + From whom, the gods would hardly bear the palm; + Like them unawed, content, and calm. + His fortune was a little nook of land; + And there the Scythian found him, hook in hand, + His fruit-trees pruning. Here he cropp'd + A barren branch, there slash'd and lopp'd, + Correcting Nature everywhere, + Who paid with usury his care. + 'Pray, why this wasteful havoc, sir?'-- + So spoke the wondering traveller; + 'Can it, I ask, in reason's name, + Be wise these harmless trees to maim? + Fling down that instrument of crime, + And leave them to the scythe of Time. + Full soon, unhasten'd, they will go + To deck the banks of streams below.' + Replied the tranquil gardener, + 'I humbly crave your pardon, sir; + Excess is all my hook removes, + By which the rest more fruitful proves.' + The philosophic traveller,-- + Once more within his country cold,-- + Himself of pruning-hook laid hold, + And made a use most free and bold; + Prescribed to friends, and counsel'd neighbours + To imitate his pruning labours. + The finest limbs he did not spare, + But pruned his orchard past all reason, + Regarding neither time nor season, + Nor taking of the moon a care. + All wither'd, droop'd, and died. + + This Scythian I set beside + The indiscriminating Stoic. + The latter, with a blade heroic, + Retrenches, from his spirit sad, + Desires and passions, good and bad, + Not sparing e'en a harmless wish. + Against a tribe so Vandalish + With earnestness I here protest. + They maim our hearts, they stupefy + Their strongest springs, if not their best; + They make us cease to live before we die. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXI">XXI</a>.--THE ELEPHANT AND THE APE OF JUPITER.</h4> +<pre> + 'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose + About precedence a dispute arose, + Which they determined to decide by blows. + The day was fix'd, when came a messenger + To say the ape of Jupiter + Was swiftly earthward seen to bear + His bright caduceus through the air. + This monkey, named in history Gill, + The elephant at once believed + A high commission had received + To witness, by his sovereign's will, + The aforesaid battle fought. + Uplifted by the glorious thought, + The beast was prompt on Monsieur Gill to wait, + But found him slow, in usual forms of state, + His high credentials to present. + The ape, however, ere he went, + Bestow'd a passing salutation. + His excellency would have heard + The subject matter of legation: + But not a word! + His fight, so far from stirring heaven,-- + The news was not received there, even! + What difference sees the impartial sky + Between an elephant and fly? + Our monarch, doting on his object, + Was forced himself to break the subject. + 'My cousin Jupiter,' said he, + 'Will shortly, from his throne supreme, + A most important combat see, + For all his court a thrilling theme.' + 'What combat?' said the ape, with serious face. + 'Is't possible you should not know the case?--' + The elephant exclaim'd--'not know, dear sir, + That Lord Rhinoceros disputes + With me precedence of the brutes? + That Elephantis is at war + With savage hosts of Rhinocer? + You know these realms, not void of fame?' + 'I joy to learn them now by name,' + Return'd Sir Gill, 'for, first or last, + No lisp of them has ever pass'd + Throughout our dome so blue and vast.' + Abash'd, the elephant replied, + 'What came you, then, to do?--' + 'Between two emmets to divide + A spire of grass in two. + We take of all a care; + And, as to your affair, + Before the gods, who view with equal eyes + The small and great, it hath not chanced to rise.' +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXII">XXII</a>.--THE FOOL AND THE SAGE.[<a href="#XII34">34</a>]</h4> +<pre> + A fool pursued, with club and stone, + A sage, who said, 'My friend, well done! + Receive this guinea for your pains; + They well deserve far higher gains. + The workman's worthy of his hire, + 'Tis said. There comes a wealthy squire, + Who hath wherewith thy works to pay; + To him direct thy gifts, and they + Shall gain their proper recompense.' + Urged by the hope of gain, + Upon the wealthy citizen + The fool repeated the offence. + His pay this time was not in gold. + Upon the witless man + A score of ready footmen ran, + And on his back, in full, his wages told. + In courts, such fools afflict the wise; + They raise the laugh at your expense. + To check their babble, were it sense + Their folly meetly to chastise? + Perhaps 'twill take a stronger man. + Then make them worry one who can. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII34">34</a>] Phaedrus, III., 4; also <i>Aesop</i>.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXIII">XXIII</a>.--THE ENGLISH FOX.[<a href="#XII35">35</a>]</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">To Madame Harvey.[<a href="#XII36">36</a>]</p> +<pre> + Sound reason and a tender heart + With thee are friends that never part. + A hundred traits might swell the roll;-- + Suffice to name thy nobleness of soul; + Thy power to guide both men and things; + Thy temper open, bland and free, + A gift that draweth friends to thee, + To which thy firm affection clings, + Unmarr'd by age or change of clime, + Or tempests of this stormy time;-- + All which deserve, in highest lyric, + A rich and lofty panegyric; + But no such thing wouldst thou desire, + Whom pomp displeases, praises tire. + Hence mine is simple, short, and plain; + Yet, madam, I would fain + Tack on a word or two + Of homage to your country due,-- + A country well beloved by you. + + With mind to match the outward case, + The English are a thinking race. + They pierce all subjects through and through; + Well arm'd with facts, they hew their way, + And give to science boundless sway. + Quite free from flattery, I say, + Your countrymen, for penetration, + Must bear the palm from every nation; + For e'en the dogs they breed excel + Our own in nicety of smell. + Your foxes, too, are cunninger, + As readily we may infer + From one that practised, 'tis believed, + A stratagem the best conceived. + The wretch, once, in the utmost strait + By dogs of nose so delicate, + Approach'd a gallows, where, + A lesson to like passengers, + Or clothed in feathers or in furs, + Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were. + Their comrade, in his pressing need, + Arranged himself among the dead. + I seem to see old Hannibal + Outwit some Roman general, + And sit securely in his tent, + The legions on some other scent. + But certain dogs, kept back + To tell the errors of the pack, + Arriving where the traitor hung, + A fault in fullest chorus sung. + Though by their bark the welkin rung, + Their master made them hold the tongue. + Suspecting not a trick so odd, + Said he, 'The rogue's beneath the sod. + My dogs, that never saw such jokes, + Won't bark beyond these honest folks.' + + The rogue would try the trick again. + He did so to his cost and pain. + Again with dogs the welkin rings; + Again our fox from gallows swings; + But though he hangs with greater faith, + This time, he does it to his death. + So uniformly is it true, + A stratagem is best when new. + The hunter, had himself been hunted, + So apt a trick had not invented; + Not that his wit had been deficient;-- + With that, it cannot be denied, + Your English folks are well-provision'd;-- + But wanting love of life sufficient, + Full many an Englishman has died. + One word to you, and I must quit + My much-inviting subject: + A long eulogium is a project + For which my lyre is all unfit. + The song or verse is truly rare, + Which can its meed of incense bear, + And yet amuse the general ear, + Or wing its way to lands afar. + Your prince[<a href="#XII37">37</a>] once told you, I have heard, + (An able judge, as rumour says,) + That he one dash of love preferr'd + To all a sheet could hold of praise. + Accept--'tis all I crave--the offering + Which here my muse has dared to bring-- + Her last, perhaps, of earthly acts; + She blushes at its sad defects. + Still, by your favour of my rhyme, + Might not the self-same homage please, the while, + The dame who fills your northern clime + With wingèd emigrants sublime + From Cytherea's isle?[<a href="#XII38">38</a>] + By this, you understand, I mean + Love's guardian goddess, Mazarin.[<a href="#XII39">39</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII35">35</a>] Abstemius.<br> +[<a name="XII36">36</a>] <i>Madame Harvey</i>.--An English lady (<i>née</i> Montagu), the + widow of an officer of Charles II. (of England) who is said to have + died at Constantinople. She was a visitor at the English embassy in + Paris, and moved in the highest circles generally of that city; a + circumstance which enabled La Fontaine to make her acquaintance and + secure her as one of his best friends and patrons. She died in 1702. +[<a name="XII37">37</a>] <i>Your Prince</i>.--Charles II. of England.<br> +[<a name="XII38">38</a>] <i>Cytherea's isle</i>.--Where Venus was worshipped.<br> +[<a name="XII39">39</a>] <i>Goddess Mazarin</i>.--The Duchess de Mazarin, niece to the + Cardinal. She was at this time in England, where she died (at + Chelsea) in 1699. She married the Duke de la Meilleraie, but it was + stipulated that she should adopt the name and arms of Mazarin.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXIV">XXIV</a>.--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[<a href="#XII40">40</a>]</h4> +<pre> + Long from the monarch of the stars + The daughters of the mud received + Support and aid; nor dearth nor wars, + Meanwhile, their teeming nation grieved. + They spread their empire far and wide + Through every marsh, by every tide. + The queens of swamps--I mean no more + Than simply frogs (great names are cheap)-- + Caball'd together on the shore, + And cursed their patron from the deep, + And came to be a perfect bore. + Pride, rashness, and ingratitude, + The progeny of fortune good, + Soon brought them to a bitter cry,-- + The end of sleep for earth and sky. + Their clamours, if they did not craze, + Would truly seem enough to raise + All living things to mutiny + Against the power of Nature's eye. + The sun,[<a href="#XII41">41</a>] according to their croak, + Was turning all the world to smoke. + It now behoved to take alarm, + And promptly powerful troops to arm. + Forthwith in haste they sent + Their croaking embassies; + To all their states they went, + And all their colonies. + To hear them talk, the all + That rides upon this whirling ball, + Of men and things, was left at stake + Upon the mud that skirts a lake! + The same complaint, in fens and bogs, + Still ever strains their lungs; + And yet these much-complaining frogs + Had better hold their tongues; + For, should the sun in anger rise, + And hurl his vengeance from the skies, + That kingless, half-aquatic crew + Their impudence would sorely rue. +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII40">40</a>] Phaedrus, I., 6. <a href="#6XII">Fable XII., Book VI.</a>, gives another version of the + same story.<br> +[<a name="XII41">41</a>] <i>The sun</i>.--This fable has reference to the current troubles + between France and the Dutch. Louis XIV. is the sun. He had adopted the sun as his emblem.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXV">XXV</a>.--THE LEAGUE OF THE RATS.</h4> +<pre> + A mouse was once in mortal fear + Of a cat that watch'd her portal near. + What could be done in such a case? + With prudent care she left the catship, + And courted, with a humble grace, + A neighbour of a higher race, + Whose lordship--I should say his ratship-- + Lay in a great hotel; + And who had boasted oft, 'tis said, + Of living wholly without dread. + 'Well,' said this braggart, 'well, + Dame Mouse, what should I do? + Alone I cannot rout + The foe that threatens you. + I'll rally all the rats about, + And then I'll play him such a trick!' + The mouse her court'sy dropp'd, + And off the hero scamper'd quick, + Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd, + Where scores of rats were clustered, + In riotous extravagance, + All feasting at the host's expense. + To him, arriving there much flustered, + Indeed, quite out of breath, + A rat among the feasters saith, + 'What news? what news? I pray you, speak.' + The rat, recovering breath to squeak, + Replied, 'To tell the matter in a trice, + It is, that we must promptly aid the mice; + For old Raminagrab is making + Among their ranks a dreadful quaking. + This cat, of cats the very devil, + When mice are gone, will do us evil.' + 'True, true,' said each and all; + 'To arms! to arms!' they cry and call. + Some ratties by their fears + Were melted e'en to tears. + It matter'd not a whisk, + Nor check'd the valour brisk. + Each took upon his back + Some cheese in haversack, + And roundly swore to risk + His carcass in the cause. + They march'd as to a feast, + Not flinching in the least.-- + But quite too late, for in his jaws + The cat already held the mouse. + They rapidly approach'd the house-- + To save their friend, beyond a doubt. + Just then the cat came growling out, + The mouse beneath his whisker'd nose. + And march'd along before his foes. + At such a voice, our rats discreet, + Foreboding a defeat, + Effected, in a style most fleet, + A fortunate retreat. + Back hurried to his hole each rat, + And afterwards took care to shun the cat. +</pre> + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXVI">XXVI</a>.--DAPHNIS AND ALCIMADURE.</h4> + +<p class="fsmall">An Imitation Of Theocritus.[<a href="#XII42">42</a>]</p> + +<p class="fsmall">To Madame De La Mésangère.[<a href="#XII43">43</a>]</p> +<pre> + Offspring of her to whom, to-day, + While from thy lovely self away, + A thousand hearts their homage pay, + Besides the throngs whom friendship binds to please, + And some whom love presents thee on their knees! + A mandate which I cannot thrust aside + Between you both impels me to divide + Some of the incense which the dews distil + Upon the roses of a sacred hill, + And which, by secret of my trade, + Is sweet and most delicious made. + To you, I say, ... but all to say + Would task me far beyond my day; + I need judiciously to choose; + Thus husbanding my voice and muse, + Whose strength and leisure soon would fail. + I'll only praise your tender heart, and hale, + Exalted feelings, wit, and grace, + In which there's none can claim a higher place, + Excepting her whose praise is your entail. + Let not too many thorns forbid to touch + These roses--I may call them such-- + If Love should ever say as much. + By him it will be better said, indeed; + And they who his advices will not heed, + Scourge fearfully will he, + As you shall shortly see. + + A blooming miracle of yore + Despised his godship's sovereign power; + They call'd her name Alcimadure. + A haughty creature, fierce and wild, + She sported, Nature's tameless child. + Rough paths her wayward feet would lead + To darkest glens of mossy trees; + Or she would dance on daisied mead, + With nought of law but her caprice. + A fairer could not be, + Nor crueller, than she. + Still charming in her sternest mien,-- + E'en when her haughty look debarr'd,-- + What had she been to lover in + The fortress of her kind regard! + Daphnis, a high-born shepherd swain, + Had loved this maiden to his bane. + Not one regardful look or smile, + Nor e'en a gracious word, the while, + Relieved the fierceness of his pain. + O'erwearied with a suit so vain, + His hope was but to die; + No power had he to fly. + He sought, impell'd by dark despair, + The portals of the cruel fair. + Alas! the winds his only listeners were! + The mistress gave no entrance there-- + No entrance to the palace where, + Ingrate, against her natal day, + She join'd the treasures sweet and gay + In garden or in wild-wood grown, + To blooming beauty all her own. + 'I hoped,' he cried, + 'Before your eyes I should have died; + But, ah! too deeply I have won your hate; + Nor should it be surprising news + To me, that you should now refuse + To lighten thus my cruel fate. + My sire, when I shall be no more, + Is charged to lay your feet before + The heritage your heart neglected. + With this my pasturage shall be connected, + My trusty dog, and all that he protected; + And, of my goods which then remain, + My mourning friends shall rear a fane. + There shall your image stand, midst rosy bowers, + Reviving through the ceaseless hours + An altar built of living flowers. + Near by, my simple monument + Shall this short epitaph present: + "Here Daphnis died of love. Stop, passenger, + And say thou, with a falling tear, + This youth here fell, unable to endure + The ban of proud Alcimadure."' + + He would have added, but his heart + Now felt the last, the fatal dart. + Forth march'd the maid, in triumph deck'd, + And of his murder little reck'd. + In vain her steps her own attendants check'd, + And plead + That she, at least, should shed, + Upon her lover dead, + Some tears of due respect. + The rosy god, of Cytherea born, + She ever treated with the deepest scorn: + Contemning him, his laws, and means of damage, + She drew her train to dance around his image, + When, woful to relate, + The statue fell, and crush'd her with its weight! + A voice forth issued from a cloud,-- + And echo bore the words aloud + Throughout the air wide spread,-- + "Let all now love--the insensible is dead." + Meanwhile, down to the Stygian tide + The shade of Daphnis hied, + And quaked and wonder'd there to meet + The maid, a ghostess, at his feet. + All Erebus awaken'd wide, + To hear that beauteous homicide + Beg pardon of the swain who died-- + For being deaf to love confess'd, + As was Ulysses to the prayer + Of Ajax, begging him to spare, + Or as was Dido's faithless guest.[<a href="#XII44">44</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII42">42</a>] Theocritus, Idyl xxiii.<br> +[<a name="XII43">43</a>] <i>Madame de la Mésangère.</i>--This lady was the daughter of Madame + de la Sablière.--Translator. She was the lady termed La Marquise + with whom Fontenelle sustained his imaginary "conversation" in the + "Plurality of Worlds," a book which became very popular both in + France and England.<br> +[<a name="XII44">44</a>] <i>Dido's faithless guest</i>.--Aeneas, with whom Dido, according to + Virgil and Ovid, was in love, but who loved not, and sailed away.</p> + + + +<br> +<h4><a name="12XXVII">XXVII</a>.--THE ARBITER, THE ALMONER, AND THE HERMIT.</h4> +<pre> + Three saints, for their salvation jealous, + Pursued, with hearts alike most zealous, + By routes diverse, their common aim. + All highways lead to Rome: the same + Of heaven our rivals deeming true, + Each chose alone his pathway to pursue. + Moved by the cares, delays, and crosses + Attach'd to suits by legal process, + One gave himself as judge, without reward, + For earthly fortune having small regard. + Since there are laws, to legal strife + Man damns himself for half his life. + For half?--Three-fourths!--perhaps the whole! + The hope possess'd our umpire's soul, + That on his plan he should be able + To cure this vice detestable.-- + The second chose the hospitals. + I give him praise: to solace pain + Is charity not spent in vain, + While men in part are animals. + The sick--for things went then as now they go-- + Gave trouble to the almoner, I trow. + Impatient, sour, complaining ever, + As rack'd by rheum, or parch'd with fever,-- + 'His favourites are such and such; + With them he watches over-much, + And lets us die,' they say,-- + Such sore complaints from day to day + Were nought to those that did await + The reconciler of debate. + His judgments suited neither side; + Forsooth, in either party's view, + He never held the balance true, + But swerved in every cause he tried. + + Discouraged by such speech, the arbiter + Betook himself to see the almoner. + As both received but murmurs for their fees, + They both retired, in not the best of moods, + To break their troubles to the silent woods, + And hold communion with the ancient trees. + There, underneath a rugged mountain, + Beside a clear and silent fountain, + A place revered by winds, to sun unknown, + They found the other saint, who lived alone. + Forthwith they ask'd his sage advice. + 'Your own,' he answer'd, 'must suffice; + Who but yourselves your wants should know? + To know one's self, is, here below, + The first command of the Supreme. + Have you obey'd among the bustling throngs? + Such knowledge to tranquillity belongs; + Elsewhere to seek were fallacy extreme. + Disturb the water--do you see your face? + See we ourselves within a troubled breast? + A murky cloud in such a case, + Though once it were a crystal vase! + But, brothers, let it simply rest, + And each shall see his features there impress'd. + For inward thought a desert home is best.' + + Such was the hermit's answer brief; + And, happily, it gain'd belief. + + But business, still, from life must not be stricken + Since men will doubtless sue at law, and sicken, + Physicians there must be, and advocates,-- + Whereof, thank God, no lack the world awaits, + While wealth and honours are the well-known baits. + Yet, in the stream of common wants when thrown, + What busy mortal but forgets his own? + O, you who give the public all your care, + Be it as judge, or prince, or minister, + Disturb'd by countless accidents most sinister, + By adverse gales abased, debased by fair,-- + Yourself you never see, nor <i>see</i> you aught. + Comes there a moment's rest for serious thought, + There comes a flatterer too, and brings it all to nought. + This lesson seals our varied page: + O, may it teach from age to age! + To kings I give it, to the wise propose; + Where could my labours better close?[<a href="#XII45">45</a>] +</pre> +<p class="note">[<a name="XII45">45</a>] This fable was first printed in the "Recueil de vers choisis du P. + Bouhours," published in 1693, and afterwards given as the last of La + Fontaine's Book XII.</p> + + +<br><hr><br> +<p class="fsmall" style="text-align:center;">FINIS.</p> +<br><hr><br> + + +<h2>INDEX TO THE FABLES.</h2> + +<p class="fbig">A.</p> + +Abdera, People of, and Democritus. <a href="#8XXVI">VIII. 26.</a><br> +Acorn and Pumpkin. <a href="#9IV">IX. 4.</a><br> +Aesop and the Will. <a href="#2XX">II. 20.</a><br> +Adder and Man. <a href="#10II">X. 2.</a><br> +Adventurers and Talisman. <a href="#10XIV">X. 14.</a><br> +Advantage of Knowledge. <a href="#8XIX">VIII. 19.</a><br> +Alcimadure and Daphnis. <a href="#12XXVI">XII. 26.</a><br> +Almoner, Arbiter, and Hermit. <a href="#12XXVII">XII. 27.</a><br> +Amaranth and Thyrsis. <a href="#8XIII">VIII. 13.</a><br> +Animal in the Moon. <a href="#7XVIII">VII. 18.</a><br> +Animals, Monkey, and Fox. <a href="#6VI">VI. 6.</a><br> +Animals sending Tribute, &c. <a href="#4XII">IV. 12.</a><br> +Animals sick of the Plague. <a href="#7I">VII. 1.</a><br> +Ant and Dove. <a href="#2XII">II. 12.</a><br> +Ant and Fly. <a href="#4III">IV. 3.</a><br> +Ant and Grasshopper. <a href="#1I">I. 1.</a><br> +Ape of Jupiter and Elephant. <a href="#12XXI">XII. 21.</a><br> +Ape of Paris. <a href="#12XIX">XII. 19.</a><br> +Arbiter, Almoner, and Hermit. <a href="#12XXVII">XII. 27.</a><br> +Ass and Dog. <a href="#8XVII">VIII. 17.</a><br> +Ass and his Masters. <a href="#6XI">VI. 11.</a><br> +Ass and Horse. <a href="#6XVI">VI. 16.</a><br> +Ass and Lion, hunting. <a href="#2XIX">II. 19.</a><br> +Ass and Little Dog. <a href="#4V">IV. 5.</a><br> +Ass and Old Man. <a href="#6VIII">VI. 8.</a><br> +Ass and Thieves. <a href="#1XIII">I. 13.</a><br> +Ass bearing Relics. <a href="#5XIV">V. 14.</a><br> +Ass, Dead, and Two Dogs. <a href="#8XXV">VIII. 25.</a><br> +Ass in Lion's Skin. <a href="#5XXI">V. 21.</a><br> +Ass loaded with Sponges, and the Ass loaded with Salt. <a href="#2X">II. 10.</a><br> +Ass, Miller, and Son. <a href="#3I">III. 1.</a><br> +Asses, Two, Lion, and Monkey. <a href="#11V">XI. 5.</a><br> +Astrologer who fell into a Well. <a href="#2XIII">II. 13.</a><br> +Atheist and Oracle. <a href="#4XIX">IV. 19.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">B.</p> + +Bat, Bush, and Duck. <a href="#12VII">XII. 7.</a><br> +Bat and Two Weasels. <a href="#2V">II. 5.</a><br> +Bear and Gardener. <a href="#8X">VIII. 10.</a><br> +Bear and Lioness. <a href="#10XIII">X. 13.</a><br> +Bear and Two Companions. <a href="#5XX">V. 20.</a><br> +Bees and Hornets. <a href="#1XXI">I. 21.</a><br> +Beetle and Eagle. <a href="#2VIII">II. 8.</a><br> +Belly and Members. <a href="#3II">III. 2.</a><br> +Bird wounded by an Arrow. <a href="#2VI">II. 6.</a><br> +Birds, Little, and Swallow. <a href="#1VIII">I. 8.</a><br> +Bitch and her Friend. <a href="#2VII">II. 7.</a><br> +Boreas and Phoebus. <a href="#6III">VI. 3.</a><br> +Boy and Schoolmaster. <a href="#1XIX">I. 19.</a><br> +Bulls, Two, and Frog. <a href="#2IV">II. 4.</a><br> +Burier and his Comrade. <a href="#10V">X. 5.</a><br> +Bust and Fox. <a href="#4XIV">IV. 14.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">C.</p> + +Camel and Floating Sticks. <a href="#4X">IV. 10.</a><br> +Candle, Wax. <a href="#9XII">IX. 12.</a><br> +Capon and Falcon. <a href="#8XXI">VIII. 21.</a><br> +Cartman in the Mire. <a href="#6XVIII">VI. 18.</a><br> +Cat and Fox. <a href="#9XIV">IX. 14.</a><br> +Cat and Monkey. <a href="#9XVII">IX. 17.</a><br> +Cat and Old Rat. <a href="#3XVIII">III. 18.</a><br> +Cat and Rat. <a href="#8XXII">VIII. 22.</a><br> +Cat and Two Sparrows. <a href="#7II">XII. 2.</a><br> +Cat, Cockerel, and Mouse. <a href="#6V">VI. 5.</a><br> +Cat, Eagle, and Wild Sow. <a href="#3VI">III. 6.</a><br> +Cat metamorphosed to a Woman. <a href="#2XVIII">II. 18.</a><br> +Cat, Old, and Young Mouse. <a href="#12V">XII. 5.</a><br> +Cat, Weasel, and Young Rabbit. <a href="#7XVI">VII. 16.</a><br> +Cats and Dogs, &c., Quarrel of the. <a href="#12VIII">XII. 8.</a><br> +Charlatan. <a href="#6XIX">VI. 19.</a><br> +Child and Fortune. <a href="#5XI">V. 11.</a><br> +Coach and Fly. <a href="#7IX">VII. 9.</a><br> +Cobbler and Financier. <a href="#8II">VIII. 2.</a><br> +Cock and Fox. <a href="#2XV">II. 15.</a><br> +Cock and Pearl. <a href="#1XX">I. 20.</a><br> +Cockerel, Cat, and Young Mouse. <a href="#6V">VI. 5.</a><br> +Cocks and Partridge. <a href="#10VIII">X. 8.</a><br> +Cocks, The Two. <a href="#7XIII">VII. 13.</a><br> +Combat of Rats and Weasels. <a href="#4VI">IV. 6.</a><br> +Companions of Ulysses. <a href="#12I">XII. 1.</a><br> +Cook and Swan. <a href="#3XII">III. 12.</a><br> +Cormorant and Fishes. <a href="#10IV">X. 4.</a><br> +Corpse and Curate. <a href="#7XI">VII. 11.</a><br> +Council held by the Rats. <a href="#2II">II. 2.</a><br> +Countryman and Serpent. <a href="#6XIII">VI. 13.</a><br> +Court of the Lion. <a href="#7VII">VII. 7.</a><br> +Curate and Corpse. <a href="#7XI">VII. 11.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">D.</p> + +Dairy-woman and Pot of Milk. <a href="#7X">VII. 10.</a><br> +Daphnis and Alcimadure. <a href="#12XXVI">XII. 26.</a><br> +Death and the Dying. <a href="#8I">VIII. 1.</a><br> +Death and the Unfortunate. <a href="#1XV">I. 15.</a><br> +Death and Wood-Chopper. <a href="#1XVI">I. 16.</a><br> +Democritus and the People of Abdera. <a href="#8XXVI">VIII. 26.</a><br> +Depositary, The Faithless. <a href="#9I">IX. 1.</a><br> +Discord. <a href="#6XX">VI. 20.</a><br> +Doctors. <a href="#5XII">V. 12.</a><br> +Dog and Ass. <a href="#8XVII">VIII. 17.</a><br> +Dog and Wolf. <a href="#1V">I. 5.</a><br> +Dog carrying his Master's Dinner. <a href="#8VII">VIII. 7.</a><br> +Dog, Farmer, and Fox. <a href="#11III">XI. 3.</a><br> +Dog, Lean, and Wolf. <a href="#9X">IX. 10.</a><br> +Dog, Little, and Ass. <a href="#4V">IV. 5.</a><br> +Dog who lost the Substance for the Shadow. <a href="#6XVII">VI. 17.</a><br> +Dog with his Ears cut off. <a href="#10IX">X. 9.</a><br> +Dogs, Cats, &c., The Quarrel of the. <a href="#12VIII">XII. 8.</a><br> + +Dogs, The Two, and Dead Ass. <a href="#8XXV">VIII. 25.</a><br> +Dolphin and Monkey. <a href="#4VII">IV. 7.</a><br> +Dove and Ant. <a href="#2XII">II. 12.</a><br> +Doves, The Two. <a href="#9II">IX. 2.</a><br> +Duck, Bat, and Bush. <a href="#12VII">XII. 7.</a><br> +Ducks and Tortoise. <a href="#10III">X. 3.</a><br> +Dragon of Many Heads, and Dragon of Many Tails. <a href="#1XII">I. 12.</a><br> +Dream of the Mogul. <a href="#11IV">XI. 4.</a><br> +Drunkard and his Wife. <a href="#3VII">III. 7.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">E.</p> + +Eagle and Beetle. <a href="#2VIII">II. 8.</a><br> +Eagle and Magpie. <a href="#12XI">XII. 11.</a><br> +Eagle and Owl. <a href="#5XVIII">V. 18.</a><br> +Eagle and Raven. <a href="#2XVI">II. 16.</a><br> +Eagle, Wild Sow, and Cat. <a href="#3VI">III. 6.</a><br> +Ears of the Hare. <a href="#5IV">V. 4.</a><br> +Earthen Pot and Iron Pot. <a href="#5II">V. 2.</a><br> +Education. <a href="#8XXIV">VIII. 24.</a><br> +Elephant and Ape of Jupiter. <a href="#12XXI">XII. 21.</a><br> +Elephant and Rat. <a href="#8XV">VIII. 15.</a><br> +English Fox. <a href="#12XXIII">XII. 23.</a><br> +Eye of the Master. <a href="#4XXI">IV. 21.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">F.</p> + +Fables, The Power of. <a href="#8IV">VIII. 4.</a><br> +Falcon and Capon. <a href="#8XXI">VIII. 21.</a><br> +Falconer, King, and Kite. <a href="#12XII">XII. 12.</a><br> +Farmer and Jupiter. <a href="#6IV">VI. 4.</a><br> +Farmer, Dog, and Fox. <a href="#11III">XI. 3.</a><br> +File and Serpent. <a href="#5XVI">V. 16.</a><br> +Financier and Cobbler. <a href="#8II">VIII. 2.</a><br> +Fish, Little, and Fisher. <a href="#5III">V. 3.</a><br> +Fishes and Cormorant. <a href="#10IV">X. 4.</a><br> +Fishes and Joker. <a href="#8VIII">VIII. 8.</a><br> +Fishes and Shepherd who played the Flute. <a href="#10XI">X. 11.</a><br> +Flea and Man. <a href="#8V">VIII. 5.</a><br> +Floating Sticks and Camel. <a href="#4X">IV. 10.</a><br> +Flies, Fox, and Hedgehog. <a href="#12XIII">XII. 13.</a><br> +Fly and Ant. <a href="#4III">IV. 3.</a><br> +Fly and Coach. <a href="#7IX">VII. 9.</a><br> +Folly and Love. <a href="#12XIV">XII. 14.</a><br> +Fool and Sage. <a href="#12XXII">XII. 22.</a><br> +Fool who sold Wisdom. <a href="#9VIII">IX. 8.</a><br> +Forest and Woodman. <a href="#12XVI">XII. 16.</a><br> +Fortune and the Boy. <a href="#5XI">V. 11.</a><br> +Fortune, Ingratitude towards. <a href="#7XIV">VII. 14.</a><br> +Fortune-Tellers. <a href="#7XV">VII. 15.</a><br> +Fortune, the Man who ran after, &c. <a href="#7XII">VII. 12.</a><br> +Fowler, Hawk, and Lark. <a href="#6XV">VI. 15.</a><br> +Fox and Bust. <a href="#4XIV">IV. 14.</a><br> +Fox and Cat. <a href="#9XIV">IX. 14.</a><br> +Fox and Cock. <a href="#2XV">II. 15.</a><br> +Fox, Farmer, and Dog. <a href="#11III">XI. 3.</a><br> +Fox and Goat. <a href="#3V">III. 5.</a><br> +Fox and Grapes. <a href="#3XI">III. 11.</a><br> +Fox and Raven. <a href="#1II">I. 2.</a><br> +Fox and Sick Lion. <a href="#6XIV">VI. 14.</a><br> +Fox and Stork. <a href="#1XVIII">I. 18.</a><br> +Fox and Turkeys. <a href="#12XVIII">XII. 18.</a><br> +Fox and Wolf. <a href="#11VI">XI. 6.</a>, <a href="#12IX">XII. 9.</a><br> +Fox and Wolf before the Monkey. <a href="#2III">II. 3.</a><br> +Fox, English. <a href="#12XXIII">XII. 23.</a><br> +Fox, Flies, and Hedgehog. <a href="#12XIII">XII. 13.</a><br> +Fox, Lion, and Wolf. <a href="#8III">VIII. 3.</a><br> +Fox, Monkey, and Animals. <a href="#6VI">VI. 6.</a><br> +Fox, Two Rats, and Egg. <a href="#10I">X. 1.</a><br> +Fox with his Tail cut off. <a href="#5V">V. 5.</a><br> +Fox, Wolf, and Horse. <a href="#12XVII">XII. 17.</a><br> +Friends, The Two. <a href="#8XI">VIII. 11.</a><br> +Frog and Rat. <a href="#4XI">IV. 11.</a><br> +Frog and Two Bulls. <a href="#2IV">II. 4.</a><br> +Frog who would be as big as the Ox. <a href="#1III">I. 3.</a><br> +Frogs and Hare. <a href="#2XIV">II. 14.</a><br> +Frogs and Sun. <a href="#6XII">VI. 12.</a>, <a href="#12XXIV">XII. 24.</a><br> +Frogs asking a King. <a href="#3IV">III. 4.</a><br> +Funeral of the Lioness. <a href="#8XIV">VIII. 14.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">G.</p> + +Gardener and Bear. <a href="#8X">VIII. 10.</a><br> +Gardener and his Lord. <a href="#4IV">IV. 4.</a><br> +Gardener, Pedant, and School-boy. <a href="#9V">IX. 5.</a><br> +Gazelle, Raven, Tortoise, and Rat. <a href="#12XV">XII. 15.</a><br> +Gnat and Lion. <a href="#2IX">II. 9.</a><br> +Goat and Fox. <a href="#3V">III. 5.</a><br> +Goat, Heifer, Sheep, and Lion. <a href="#1VI">I. 6.</a><br> +Goat, Hog, and Sheep. <a href="#7XII">VII. 12.</a><br> +Goat, Kid, and Wolf. <a href="#4XV">IV. 15.</a><br> +Goats, The Two. <a href="#12IV">XII. 4.</a><br> +Gods wishing to educate a Son of Jupiter. <a href="#11II">XI. 2.</a><br> +Gout and Spider. <a href="#3VIII">III. 8.</a><br> +Grapes and Fox. <a href="#3XI">III. 11.</a><br> +Grasshopper and Ant. <a href="#1I">I. 1.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">H.</p> + +Hard to suit, Against the. <a href="#2I">II. 1.</a><br> +Hare and Frogs. <a href="#2XIV">II. 14.</a><br> +Hare and Partridge. <a href="#5XVII">V. 17.</a><br> +Hare and Tortoise. <a href="#6X">VI. 10.</a><br> +Hare, Ears of the. <a href="#5IV">V. 4.</a><br> +Hawk, Fowler, and Lark. <a href="#6XV">VI. 15.</a><br> +Head and Tail of the Serpent. <a href="#7XVII">VII. 17.</a><br> +Hedgehog, Fox, and Flies. <a href="#12XIII">XII. 13.</a><br> +Heifer, Sheep, Goat, and Lion. <a href="#1VI">I. 6.</a><br> +Hen with Golden Eggs. <a href="#5XIII">V. 13.</a><br> +Hermit, Arbiter, and Almoner. <a href="#12XXVII">XII. 27.</a><br> +Heron. <a href="#7IV">VII. 4.</a><br> +Hog, Goat, and Sheep. <a href="#8XII">VIII. 12.</a><br> +Hornets and Honey-Bees. <a href="#1XXI">I. 21.</a><br> +Horoscope. <a href="#8XVI">VIII. 16.</a><br> +Horse and Ass. <a href="#6XVI">VI. 16.</a><br> +Horse and Stag. <a href="#4XIII">IV. 13.</a><br> +Horse and Wolf. <a href="#5VIII">V. 8.</a><br> +Horse, Fox, and Wolf. <a href="#12XVII">XII. 17.</a><br> +Hunter and Lion. <a href="#6II">VI. 2.</a><br> +Hunter and Wolf. <a href="#8XXVII">VIII. 27.</a><br> +Husband, Wife, and Thief. <a href="#9XV">IX. 15.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">I.</p> + +Idol of Wood and Man. <a href="#4VIII">IV. 8.</a><br> +Ill-Married. <a href="#7II">VII. 2.</a><br> +Image, Man and his. <a href="#1XI">I. 11.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">J.</p> + +Jay and the Peacock's Feathers. <a href="#4IX">IV. 9.</a><br> +Joker and Fishes. <a href="#8VIII">VIII. 8.</a><br> +Juno and Peacock. <a href="#2XVII">II. 17.</a><br> +Jupiter and Farmer. <a href="#6IV">VI. 4.</a><br> +Jupiter and the Thunderbolts. <a href="#8XX">VIII. 20.</a><br> +Jupiter and Traveller. <a href="#9XIII">IX. 13.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">K.</p> + +Kid, Goat, and Wolf. <a href="#4XV">IV. 15.</a><br> +King, Kite, and Falconer. <a href="#12XII">XII. 12.</a><br> +King and Shepherd. <a href="#10X">X. 10.</a><br> +King, his Son, and the Two Parrots. <a href="#10XII">X. 12.</a><br> +King's Son, Merchant, Noble, and Shepherd. <a href="#10XVI">X. 16.</a><br> +Kite and Nightingale. <a href="#9XVIII">IX. 18.</a><br> +Kite, King, and Falconer. <a href="#12XII">XII. 12.</a><br> +Knowledge, The Use of. <a href="#8XIX">VIII. 19.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">L.</p> + +Lamb and Wolf. <a href="#1X">I. 10.</a><br> +Lark and her Young Ones, &c. <a href="#4XXII">IV. 22.</a><br> +Lark, Fowler, and Hawk. <a href="#6XV">VI. 15.</a><br> +League of the Rats. <a href="#12XXV">XII. 25.</a><br> +Leopard and Monkey. <a href="#9III">IX. 3.</a><br> +Lion. <a href="#11I">XI. 1.</a><br> +Lion and Ass hunting. <a href="#2XIX">II. 19.</a><br> +Lion, Goat, Heifer, and Sheep. <a href="#1VI">I. 6.</a><br> +Lion and Gnat. <a href="#2IX">II. 9.</a><br> +Lion and Hunter. <a href="#6II">VI. 2.</a><br> +Lion and Rat. <a href="#2XI">II. 11.</a><br> +Lion and Shepherd. <a href="#6I">VI. 1.</a><br> +Lion beaten by Man. <a href="#3X">III. 10.</a><br> +Lion, Court of the. <a href="#7VII">VII. 7.</a><br> +Lion going to War. <a href="#5XIX">V. 19.</a><br> +Lion grown old. <a href="#3XIV">III. 14.</a><br> +Lion in Love. <a href="#4I">IV. 1.</a><br> +Lion, Monkey, and two Asses. <a href="#11V">XI. 5.</a><br> +Lion, The Sick, and Fox. <a href="#6XIV">VI. 14.</a><br> +Lion, Wolf, and Fox. <a href="#8III">VIII. 3.</a><br> +Lioness and Bear. <a href="#10XIII">X. 13.</a><br> +Lioness, Funeral of the. <a href="#8XIV">VIII. 14.</a><br> +Litigants and Oyster. <a href="#9IX">IX. 9.</a><br> +Lobster and Daughter. <a href="#12X">XII. 10.</a><br> +Love and Folly. <a href="#12XIV">XII. 14.</a><br> +Love, Lion in. <a href="#4I">IV. 1.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">M.</p> + +Magpie and Eagle. <a href="#12XI">XII. 11.</a><br> +Maid. <a href="#7V">VII. 5.</a><br> +Man and Adder. <a href="#10II">X. 2.</a><br> +Man and Flea. <a href="#8V">VIII. 5.</a><br> +Man and his Image. <a href="#1XI">I. 11.</a><br> +Man and Two Mistresses. <a href="#1XVII">I. 17.</a><br> +Man and Wooden God. <a href="#4VIII">IV. 8.</a><br> +Man beating a Lion. <a href="#3XX">III. 20.</a><br> +Man who ran after Fortune. &c. <a href="#7XII">VII. 12.</a><br> +Master, The Eye of the. <a href="#4XXI">IV. 21.</a><br> +Members and Belly. <a href="#3II">III. 2.</a><br> +Men, The Two, and Treasure. <a href="#9XVI">IX. 16.</a><br> +Merchant and Pashaw. <a href="#8XVIII">VIII. 18.</a><br> +Merchant, Noble, Shepherd, and King's Son. <a href="#10XVI">X. 16.</a><br> +Mercury and Woodman. <a href="#5I">V. 1.</a><br> +Miller, Son, and Ass. <a href="#3I">III. 1.</a><br> +Mice and Cats, Quarrel of the, &c. <a href="#12VIII">XII. 8.</a><br> +Mice and Owl. <a href="#11IX">XI. 9.</a><br> +Miser and Monkey. <a href="#12III">XII. 3.</a><br> +Miser who had lost his Treasure. <a href="#4XX">IV. 20.</a><br> +Mogul's Dream. <a href="#11IV">XI. 4.</a><br> +Monkey and Cat. <a href="#9XVII">IX. 17.</a><br> +Monkey and Dolphin. <a href="#4VII">IV. 7.</a><br> +Monkey and Leopard. <a href="#9III">IX. 3.</a><br> +Monkey and Miser. <a href="#12III">XII. 3.</a><br> +Monkey, Fox, and Animals. <a href="#6VI">VI. 6.</a><br> +Monkey judging Wolf and Fox. <a href="#2III">II. 3.</a><br> +Monkey, Lion, and Two Asses. <a href="#11V">XI. 5.</a><br> +Mother, Child, and Wolf. <a href="#4XVI">IV. 16.</a><br> +Mountain in Labour, <a href="#5X">V. 10.</a><br> +Mouse, Cockerel, and Cat. <a href="#6V">VI. 5.</a><br> +Mouse metamorphosed into a Maid. <a href="#9VII">IX. 7.</a><br> +Mouse, Young, and Cat. <a href="#12V">XII. 5.</a><br> +Mule boasting of his Genealogy. <a href="#6VII">VI. 7.</a><br> +Mules, The Two. <a href="#1IV">I. 4.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">N.</p> + +Nightingale and Kite. <a href="#9XVIII">IX. 18.</a><br> +Nobleman, Merchant, Shepherd, and King's Son. <a href="#10XVI">X. 16.</a><br> +Nothing too Much. <a href="#9XI">IX. 11.</a><br> +<p class="fbig">O.</p> + +Oak and Reed. <a href="#1XXII">I. 22.</a><br> +Old Cat and Young Mouse. <a href="#12V">XII. 5.</a><br> +Old Man and Ass. <a href="#6VIII">VI. 8.</a><br> +Old Man and his Sons. <a href="#4XVIII">IV. 18.</a><br> +Old Man and Three Young Ones. <a href="#11VIII">XI. 8.</a><br> +Old Woman and Two Servants. <a href="#5VI">V. 6.</a><br> +Oracle and the Atheist. <a href="#4XIX">IV. 19.</a><br> +Owl and Eagle. <a href="#5XVIII">V. 18.</a><br> +Owl and Mice. <a href="#11IX">XI. 9.</a><br> +Oyster and Litigants. <a href="#9IX">IX. 9.</a><br> +Oyster and Rat. <a href="#8IX">VIII. 9.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">P.</p> + +Parrots, The Two, the King, and his Son. <a href="#10XII">X. 12.</a><br> +Partridge and Cocks. <a href="#10VIII">X. 8.</a><br> +Partridge and Hare. <a href="#5XVII">V. 17.</a><br> +Pashaw and Merchant. <a href="#8XVIII">VIII. 18.</a><br> +Peacock complaining to Juno. <a href="#2XVII">II. 17.</a><br> +Pearl and Cock. <a href="#1XX">I. 20.</a><br> +Peasant of the Danube. <a href="#11VII">XI. 7.</a><br> +Pedant, Schoolboy, and Gardener. <a href="#9V">IX. 5.</a><br> +Philomel and Progne. <a href="#3XV">III. 15.</a><br> +Phoebus and Boreas. <a href="#6III">VI. 3.</a><br> +Pigeons and Vultures. <a href="#7VIII">VII. 8.</a><br> +Pigeons, The Two. <a href="#9II">IX. 2.</a><br> +Ploughman and his Sons. <a href="#5IX">V. 9.</a><br> +Pot of Earth and the Pot of Iron. <a href="#5II">V. 2.</a><br> +Pot of Milk and Dairy-woman. <a href="#7X">VII. 10.</a><br> +Power of Fables. <a href="#8IV">VIII. 4.</a><br> +Pumpkin and Acorn. <a href="#9IV">IX. 4.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">Q.</p> + +Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats, &c. <a href="#12VIII">XII. 8.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">R.</p> + +Rabbit, Cat, and Weasel. <a href="#7XVI">VII. 16.</a><br> +Rabbits. <a href="#10XV">X. 15.</a><br> +Rat and Cat. <a href="#8XXII">VIII. 22.</a><br> +Rat and Elephant. <a href="#8XV">VIII. 15.</a><br> +Rat and Frog. <a href="#4XI">IV. 11.</a><br> +Rat and Lion. <a href="#2XI">II. 11.</a><br> +Rat and Oyster. <a href="#8IX">VIII. 9.</a><br> +Rat, City, and Country Rat. <a href="#1IX">I. 9.</a><br> +Rat, Old, and Cat. <a href="#3XVIII">III. 18.</a><br> +Rat retired from the World. <a href="#7III">VII. 3.</a><br> +Rat, Tortoise, Raven, and Gazelle. <a href="#12XV">XII. 15.</a><br> +Rats and Weasels, Combat of. <a href="#4VI">IV. 6.</a><br> +Rats, Council of the. <a href="#2II">II. 2.</a><br> +Rats, League of the. <a href="#12XXV">XII. 25.</a><br> +Rats, Two, Fox, and Egg. <a href="#10I">X. 1.</a><br> +Raven wishing to imitate the Eagle. <a href="#2XVI">II. 16.</a><br> +Raven and Fox. <a href="#1II">I. 2.</a><br> +Raven, Tortoise, Gazelle, and Rat. <a href="#12XV">XII. 15.</a><br> +Reed and Oak. <a href="#1XXII">I. 22.</a><br> +River and Torrent. <a href="#8XXIII">VIII. 23.</a><br> +Robber, Husband, and Wife. <a href="#9XV">IX. 15.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">S.</p> + +Sage and Fool. <a href="#12XXII">XII. 22.</a><br> +Satyr and Traveller. <a href="#5VII">V. 7.</a><br> +Schoolboy, Pedant, and Gardener. <a href="#9V">IX. 5.</a><br> +Schoolmaster and Boy. <a href="#1XIX">I. 19.</a><br> +Sculptor and Statue of Jupiter. <a href="#9VI">IX. 6.</a><br> +Scythian Philosopher. <a href="#12XX">XII. 20.</a><br> +Sea, The Shepherd and the. <a href="#4II">IV. 2.</a><br> +Serpent and Countryman. <a href="#6XIII">VI. 13.</a><br> +Serpent and File. <a href="#5XVI">V. 16.</a><br> +Serpent, Head and Tail of. <a href="#7XVII">VII. 17.</a><br> +Servants, Two, and Old Woman. <a href="#5VI">V. 6.</a><br> +Sheep and Wolves. <a href="#3XIII">III. 13.</a><br> +Sheep, Heifer, Goat, and Lion. <a href="#1VI">I. 6.</a><br> +Sheep, Hog, and Goat. <a href="#8XII">VIII. 12.</a><br> +Shepherd and his Flock. <a href="#9XIX">IX. 19.</a><br> +Shepherd and King. <a href="#10X">X. 10.</a><br> +Shepherd and Lion. <a href="#6I">VI. 1.</a><br> +Shepherd and Sea. <a href="#4II">IV. 2.</a><br> +Shepherd and Wolf. <a href="#3III">III. 3.</a><br> +Shepherd, Merchant, Noble, and King's Son. <a href="#10XVI">X. 16.</a><br> +Shepherd who played the Flute, and Fishes. <a href="#10XI">X. 11.</a><br> +Shepherds and Wolf. <a href="#10VI">X. 6.</a><br> +Simonides preserved by the Gods. <a href="#1XIV">I. 14.</a><br> +Socrates, The Words of. <a href="#4XVII">IV. 17.</a><br> +Sow (Wild), Cat, and Eagle. <a href="#3VI">III. 6.</a><br> +Sparrows, Two, and Cat. <a href="#12II">XII. 2.</a><br> +Spider and Gout. <a href="#3VIII">III. 8.</a><br> +Spider and Swallow. <a href="#10VII">X. 7.</a><br> +Stag and Horse. <a href="#4XIII">IV. 13.</a><br> +Stag and Vine. <a href="#5XV">V. 15.</a><br> +Stag seeing Himself in the Water. <a href="#6IX">VI. 9.</a><br> +Stag, Sick. <a href="#12VI">XII. 6.</a><br> +Stork and Fox. <a href="#1XVIII">I. 18.</a><br> +Stork and Wolf. <a href="#3IX">III. 9.</a><br> +Sun and Frogs. <a href="#6XII">VI. 12.</a>, <a href="#12XXIV">XII. 24.</a><br> +Swallow and Little Birds. <a href="#1VIII">I. 8.</a><br> +Swallow and Spider. <a href="#10IX">X. 9.</a><br> +Swan and Cook. <a href="#3XII">III. 12.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">T.</p> + +Talisman and Two Adventurers. <a href="#10XIV">X. 14.</a><br> +Thieves and Ass. <a href="#1XIII">I. 13.</a><br> +Thyrsis and Amaranth. <a href="#8XIII">VIII. 13.</a><br> +Tortoise and Hare. <a href="#6X">VI. 10.</a><br> +Tortoise and two Ducks. <a href="#10III">X. 3.</a><br> +Tortoise, Gazelle. Raven, and Rat. <a href="#12XV">XII. 15.</a><br> +Torrent and River. <a href="#8XXIII">VIII. 23.</a><br> +Traveller and Jupiter. <a href="#9XIII">IX. 13.</a><br> +Traveller and Satyr. <a href="#5VII">V. 7.</a><br> +Treasure and Two Men. <a href="#9XVI">IX. 16.</a><br> +Turkeys and Fox. <a href="#12XVIII">XII. 18.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">U.</p> + +Ulysses, Companions of. <a href="#12I">XII. 1.</a><br> +Unfortunate and Death. <a href="#1XV">I. 15.</a><br> +<p class="fbig">V.</p> + +Vine and Stag. <a href="#5XV">V. 15.</a><br> +Vultures and Pigeons. <a href="#7VIII">VII. 8.</a><br> + +<p class="fbig">W.</p> + +Wallet. <a href="#1VII">I. 7.</a><br> +Wax-Candle. <a href="#9XII">IX. 12.</a><br> +Weasel, Cat, and Rabbit. <a href="#7XVI">VII. 16.</a><br> +Weasel in a Granary. <a href="#3XVII">III. 17.</a><br> +Weasels, Two, and Bat. <a href="#2V">II. 5.</a><br> +Weasels and Rats, Combat of. <a href="#4VI">IV. 6.</a><br> +Widow, The Young. <a href="#6XXI">VI. 21.</a><br> +Wild Sow, Eagle, and Cat. <a href="#3VI">III. 6.</a><br> +Will explained by Aesop. <a href="#2XX">II. 20.</a><br> +Wishes. <a href="#7VI">VII. 6.</a><br> +Wolf and Dog. <a href="#1V">I. 5.</a><br> +Wolf and Fox. <a href="#12IX">XII. 9.</a><br> +Wolf and Fox at the Well. <a href="#11VI">XI. 6.</a><br> +Wolf and Fox before the Monkey. <a href="#2III">II. 3.</a><br> +Wolf and Horse. <a href="#5VIII">V. 8.</a><br> +Wolf and Hunter. <a href="#8XXVII">VIII. 27.</a><br> +Wolf and Lamb. <a href="#1X">I. 10.</a><br> +Wolf and Lean Dog. <a href="#9X">IX. 10.</a><br> +Wolf and Shepherds. <a href="#10VI">X. 6.</a><br> +Wolf and Stork. <a href="#3IX">III. 9.</a><br> +Wolf, Fox, and Horse. <a href="#12XVII">XII. 17.</a><br> +Wolf, Goat, and Kid. <a href="#4XV">IV. 15.</a><br> +Wolf, Lion, and Fox. <a href="#8III">VIII. 3.</a><br> +Wolf, Mother, and Child. <a href="#4XVI">IV. 16.</a><br> +Wolf turned Shepherd. <a href="#3III">III. 3.</a><br> +Wolves and Sheep. <a href="#3XIII">III. 13.</a><br> +Woman Drowned. <a href="#3XVI">III. 16.</a><br> +Women and the Secret. <a href="#8VI">VIII. 6.</a><br> +Wood-Chopper and Death. <a href="#1XVI">I. 16.</a><br> +Woodman and Forest. <a href="#12XVI">XII. 16.</a><br> +Woodman and Mercury. <a href="#5I">V. 1.</a><br> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Fables of La Fontaine, by Jean de La Fontaine + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE *** + +This file should be named 8ffab10h.htm or 8ffab10h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8ffab11h.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8ffab10a.txt + +Produced by Thomas Berger, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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