ftnnk >E 3^ ^

By bequest of / C? ^ William Lukens Shoemaker

PART VII.

i

^ POETRY—Vol. I., Part 2

' A D I CO ) A /

3j^ \ THE

FABLES OF LA FONTAINE

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH

BY E. WRIGHT.

The Dairy Woman.

LONDON i

INGRAM, COOKE, AND CO. 227, STRAND.

1853. \\ ^S>\\> ^^v>V

Gift. W. L. Shoemaker

7 S '06

\ THE FABLES

©F

LA FONTAINE

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH,

By ELIZUR WRIGHT, June.

VOL. I. 119 INTKODTJCTION.

This elegant translation of the most famous fabulist of modern times (if we may-

be allowed to call tbe seventeenth century modern), is the work of an American

author, who has admirably succeeded in embodying both the spirit, the grace, and

the vivacity of the original in the translation.

As Fables have interested and instructed mankind in every age, and as the Fables

of La Fontaine may be said to be the standard collection of modern times, this translation has been considered as a most appropriate addition to the Universal

Library.

London, February, 1853.-

120 A PREFACE

ON

FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE,

BY THE TRANSLATOR.

Human nature, when fresh from the hand of God, Himerians on their guard against the tyranny of was full of poetry. Its sociality could not be pent Phalaris by the fable of the Horse and the Stag. within the bounds of the actual. To the lower Cyrus, for the instruction of kings, told the story inhabitants of air, earth, and water,—and even to of the fisher obliged to use his nets to take the- those elements themselves, in all their parts and fish that turned a deaf ear to the sound of his flute. forms, —it gave speech and reason. The skies it Menenius Agrippa, wishing to bring back the mu- peopled with beings, on the noblest model of which tinous Roman people from Mount Sacer, ended his it could have any conception—to wit, its own. harangue with the fable of the Belly and the The intercourse of these beings, thus created and Members. A Ligurian, in order to dissuade King endowed,—from the deity kindled into immortality Comanus from yielding to the Phocians a portion by the imagination, to the clod personified for the of his territory as the site of Marseilles, introduced moment,—gratified one of its strongest propen- into his discourse the story of the bitch that bor- sities ; for man may well enough be defined as the rowed a kennel in which to bring forth her young, historical animal. The faculty which, in after but, when they were sufficiently grown, refused to ages, was to chronicle the realities developed by give it up. time, had at first no employment but to place on In all these instances, we see that fable was a record the productions of the imagination. Hence, mere auxiliary of discourse—an implement of the fable blossomed and ripened in the remotest an- orator. Such, probably, was the origin of the tiquity. We see it mingling itself with the primeval apologues which now form the bulk of the most history of all nations. It ia not improbable that popular collections. iEsop, -who lived about six many of the narratives which have been preserved hundred years before Christ, so far as we can for us, by the bark or parchment of the first rude reach the reality of his life, was an orator who histories, as serious matters of fact, were originally wielded the apologue with remarkable skill. From apologues, or parables, invented to give power and a servile condition, he rose, by the force of his wings to moral lessons, and afterwards modified, genius, to be the counsellor of kings and states. in their passage from mouth to mouth, by the well- His wisdom was in demand far and wide, and on known magic of credulity. The most ancient poets the most important occasions. The pithy apologues graced their productions with apologues. Hesiod's which fell from his lips, which, like the rules of fable of the Hawk and the Nightingale is an in- arithmetic, solved the difficult problems of human stance. The fable or parable was anciently, as it conduct constantly presented to him, were remem- is even now, a favourite weapon of the most suc- bered when the speeches that contained them were cessful orators. When Jotham would show the forgotten. He seems to have written nothing Shechemites the folly of their ingratitude, he ut- himself ; but it was not long before the gems which tered the fable of the Fig-Tree, the Olive, the Vine, he scattered began to be gathered up in collections, and the Bramble. When the prophet Nathan as a distinct species of literature. The great and would oblige David to pass a sentence of con- good Socrates employed himself, while in prison* demnation upon himself in the matter of Uriah, in turning the fables of iEsop into verse. Though he brought before him the apologue of the rich but a few fragments of his composition have come man who, having many sheep, took away that of down to us, he may, perhaps, be regarded as the the poor man who had but one. When Joash, the father of fable, considered as a distinct art. In- king of Israel, would rebuke the vanity of Amaziah, duced by his example, many Greek poets and phi- the king of Judah, he referred him to the fable of losophers tried their hands in it. Archilocus, the Thistle and the Cedar. Our blessed Saviour, Alcreus, Aristotle, Plato, Diodorus, Plutarch, and the best of all teachers, was remarkable for his Lucian, have left us specimens. Collections of constant use of parables, which are but fables— fables bearing the name of iEsop became current we speak it with reverence—adapted to the gravity in the Greek language. It was not, however, till of the subjects on which he discoursed. And, in the year 1447, that the large collection which now profane history, we read that Stesichorus put the bears his name was put forth in Greek prose by

121 ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE.

Planudes, a monk of Constantinople. This man and bear the name of a Brahmin, Vishnoo Sarmah. turned the life of iEsop itself into a fable ; and La as the author. Sir William Jones, who is inclined Fontaine did it the honour to translate it as a pre- to make this author the true iEsop of the world, face to his own collection. Though burdened with and to doubt the existence of the Phrygian, gives insufferable puerilities, it is not without the moral him the preference to all other fabulists, both in that a rude and deformed exterior may conceal regard to matter and manner. He has left a prose both wit and worth. translation of the Hitopadesa, which, though it The collection of fables in Greek verse by may not fully sustain his enthusiastic preference, Babrias was exceedingly popular among the shows it not to be entirely groundless. We give Romans. It was the favourite book of the Em- a sample of it, and select a fable which La Fon- peror Julian. Only six of these fables, and a few taine has served up as the twenty- seventh of his fragments, remain ; but they are sufficient to show eighth book. It should be understood that the that their author possessed all the graces of style fable, with the moral reflections which accompany which befit the apologue. Some critics place him it, is taken from the speech of one animal to in the Augustan age ; others make him contem- another. porary with Moschus. His work was versified in " Frugality Latin, at the instance of Seneca ; and Quinctilian should ever be practised, but not excessive par.-imony for refers to it as a reading-book for boys. Thus, at ; see bow a miser was killed by a bow drawn by himself!" all times, these playful fictions have been con- " How was that ?" said Hiranyaca. sidered fit lessons for children, as well as for men, w In the county of Calyanacataca," said Menthara, "lived who are often but grown-up children. So popular a mighty hunter, named Bhairaza, or Terrible. One day were the fables of Babrias and their Latin trans- he went, in search of game, into a forest on the mountains lation, during the Roman empire, that the work of Tindhya ; when, having slain a fawn, and taken it up, he latter Phsedrus was hardly noticed. The was a perceived a boar of tremendous size ; he therefore threw freedman of Augustus, and wrote in the reign of the fawn on the ground, and wounded the boar with an

Tiberius. His verse stands almost unrivalled for arrow ; the beast, horribly roaring, rushed upon him, and wounded him desperately, so that he fell, like a tree its exquisite elegance and compactness ; and pos- stricken with an axe. terity has abundantly avenged him for the neglect of contemporaries. La Fontaine is perhaps more indebted to Phredrus than to any other of his pre- "In the meanwhile, a jackal, named Lougery, was decessors ; and, especially in the first six books, roving in search of food ; and, having perceived the fawn, his style has much of the same curious condensa- the hunter, and the boar, all three dead, he said to him- tion. When the seat of the empire Avas trans- self, ' What a noble provision is here made for me !' ferred to Byzantium, the Greek language took " As the pains of men assail them unexpectedly, so their pleasures in precedence of the Latin ; and the rhetorician come the same manner; a divine power Aphtonius wrote forty fables in Greek prose, which strongly operates in both. " ' Be it so ; the flesh of these three will became popular. Besides these collections among animals sustain me a whole month, or longer. the Romans, we find apologues scattered through "' A man suffices for one month; a fawn and a boar, the writings of their best poets and historians, and for two ; a snake, for a whole day ; and then I will devour in those specimens of their embalmed oratory the bowstring.' "When the first impulse of his hunger was which have come down to us. ' allayed, he said, This flesh is not yet tender ; let me taste The apologues of the Greeks and Romans were the twisted string, with which the horns of this bow are brief, pithy, and epigrammatic, and their col- joined.' So saying, he began to gnaw it ; but, in the instant lections were without any principle of connexion. when he had cut the string, the severed bow leaped forcibly But, at the same time, though probably unknown up, and wounded him in the breast, so that he departed in the agonies of death. This I meant, when I cited the to them, the same species of literature was flourish- verse, Frugality should ever be practised, &c-." ing elsewhere under a somewhat different form. It is made a question, whether ^Esop, through the ***** Assyrians, with whom the Phrygians had com- " What thou givestto distinguished men, and what thou mercial relations, did not either borrow his art eatest every day—that, in my opinion, isthine own wealth : ?" from the Orientals, or lend it to them. This dis- whose is the remainder which thou hoardest puted subject must be left to those who have a Works of Sir William Jones, vol. vi. p. 36. taste for such inquiries. Certain it is, however, that fable flourished very anciently with the people It was one of these books which Chosroes, the whose faith embraces the doctrine of metempsy- king of Persia, caused to be translated from the chosis. Among the Hindoos, there are two very Sanscrit into the ancient language of his country, ancient collections of fables, which differ from in the sixth century of the Christian era, sending those which we have already mentioned, in having an embassy into Hindostan expressly for that pur- a principle of connexion throughout. They are, pose. Of the Persian book a translation was made, in fact, extended romances, or dramas, in which in the time of the Calif Mansour, in the eighth ail sorts of creatures are introduced as actors, and century, into Arabic. This Arabic translation it in which there is a development of sentiment and is which became famous under the title of " The passion as well as of moral truth, the whole being- Book of Calila and Dimna,or the Fables of Bidpa'i." wrought into a system of morals particularly Calila and Dimna are the names of two jackals that adapted to the use of those called to govern. One figure in the history, and Bidpai is one of the of these works is called the Pantcha Tantra, which principal human interlocutors, who came to be signifies "Five Books," or Pentateuch. It is mistaken for the author. This remarkable book written in prose. The other is called the Hitopa- was turned into verse by several of the Arabic dem. or K Friendly Instruction," and is written in poets, was translated into Greek, Hebrew, Latin, verse. Both are in the ancient Sanscrit language, modern Persian, and, in the course of a few

122 ;

ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE.

centuries, either directly or indirectly, into most guages of Europe attained their full development; of the languages of modern Europe. and, at this epoch, prose seems to have been uni- Forty-one of the unadorned and disconnected versally preferred to poetry. So strong was this fables of YEsop were also translated into Arabic at preference, that Ogilby, the Scotch fabulist, who a period somewhat more recent than the Hegira, had written a collection of fables in English verse, and passed by the name of the " Fables of Lokman." reduced them to prose on the occasion of publish- Their want of poetical ornament prevented them ing a more splendid edition in 1668. It seems to from acquiring much popularity with the Arabians have been the settled opinion of the critics of that but they became well known in Europe, as fur- age, as it has, indeed, been stoutly maintained nishing a convenient text-book in the study of since, that the ornaments of poetry only impair Arabic. the force of the fable—that the Muses, by becoming The Hitopadesa, the fountain of poetic fables, the handmaids of old YEsop, part with their own with its innumerable translations and modifications, dignity without conferring any on him. La Fon- seems to have had the greatest charms for the taine has made such an opinion almost heretical. Orientals. As it passed down the stream of time, In his manner there is a perfect originality, and version after version, the ornament and machinery an immortality every way equal to that of the outgrew the moral instruction, till it gave birth, at matter which he gathered up from all parts of the last, to such works of mere amusement as the great storehouse of human experience. His fables " Thousand and One Nights." are like pure gold enveloped in solid rock-crystal. Fable slept, with other things, in the dark ages In English, a few of the fables of Gay, of Moore, of Europe. Abridgments took the place of the and of Cowper, may be compared with them in large collections, and probably occasioned the en- some respects, but we have nothing resembling tire loss of some of them. As literature revived, them as a whole. Gay, who has done more than fable was resuscitated. The crusades had brought any other, though he has displayed great power of European mind in contact with the Indian works invention, and has given his verse a flow worthy which we have already described, in their Arabic of his master, Pope, has yet fallen far behind La dress. Translations and imitations in the European Fontaine in the general management of his ma- tongues were speedily multiplied. The " Romance terials. His fables are all beautiful poems, but of the Fox," the work of Perrot de Saint Cloud, few of them are beautiful fables. His animal one of the most successful of these imitations, dates speakers do not sufficiently preserve their animal back to the thirteenth century. It found its way characters. It is quite otherwise with La Fon- into most of the northern languages, and became taine. His beasts are made most nicely to observe a household book. It undoubtedly had great in- all the proprieties not only of the scene in which fluence over the taste of succeeding ages, shedding they are called to speak, but of the great drama upon the severe and satirical wit of the Greek and into which they are from time to time introduced. Roman literature the rich, mellow light of Asiatic His work constitutes an harmonious whole. To poetry. The poets of that age were not confined, those who read it in the original, it is one of the however, to fables from the Hindoo source. Marie few which never cloy the appetite. As in the poetry de France, also, in the thirteenth century, versified of Burns, you are apt to think the last verse you one hundred of the fables of YEsop, translating read of him the best. from an English collection, which does not now But the main object of this Preface Avas to give appear to be extant. Her work is entitled the a few traces of the life and literary career of our Ysopet, or "Little iEsop." Other versions, with poet. A remarkable poet cannot but have been a the same title, were subsequently written. It was remarkable man. Suppose we take a man with in 1417 that Planudes, already referred to, wrote native benevolence amounting almost to folly ; but in Greek prose a collection of fables, prefacing it little cunning, caution, or veneration ; good per- with a life of iEsop, whjch, for a long time, passed ceptive, but better reflective faculties ; and a for the veritable work of that ancient. In the dominant love of the beautiful ; —and toss him into next century, Abstemius wrote two hundred fables the focus of civilisation in the age of Louis XIV. in Latin prose, partly of modern, but chiefly of It is an interesting problem to find out what will ancient invention. At this time, the vulgar lan- become of him. Such is the problem worked out guages had undergone so great changes, that works in the life of Jeax de La Foxtaixe, born on the in them of two or three centuries old could not be eighth of July, 1621, at Chateau-Thierry. His understood, and, consequently, the Latin became father, a man of some substance and station, com- the favourite language of authors. Many col- mitted two blunders in disposing of his son. First, lections of fables were written in it, both in prose he encouraged him to seek an education for eccle- and verse. By the art of printing, these works siastical life, which was evidently unsuited to his were greatly multiplied ; and again the poets dispositions. Second, he brought about his mar- undertook the task of translating them into the riage with a woman who was unfitted to secure language of the people. The French led the way his affections, or to manage his domestic affairs. in this species of literature, their language seeming In one other point, he was not so much mistaken : to present some great advantages for it. One he laboured unremittingly to make his son a poet. hundred years before La Fontaine, Corrozet, Jean was a backward boy, and showed not the Guillaume Gueroult, and Philibert Hegemon, had least spark of poetical genius till his twenty- second written beautiful fables in verse, which it is sup- year. His poetical faculties did not ripen till long posed La Fontaine must have read and profited after that time. But his father lived to see him by, although they had become nearly obsolete in all, and more than all, that he had ever hoped. his time. It is a remarkable fact, that these But we will first, in few words, despatch the poetical fables should so soon have been forgotten. worst—for there is a very bad part— of his life. it was soon after their appearance that the lan- It was not specially his life ; it was the life of the

123 — — ;

ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE. age in which he lived. The man of strong characteristic of his peculiar mental structure. amorous propensities, in that age and country, Not long after his marriage, with all his indif- who was, nevertheless, faithful to vows of either ference to his wife, he was persuaded into a fit of marriage or celibacy,—the latter vows then proved singular jealousy. He was intimate with an ex- sadly dangerous to the former,—may he regarded captain of dragoons, by the name of Poignant, as a miracle. La Fontaine, without any agency who had retired to Chateau-Thierry ; a frank, of his own affections, found himself married at the open-hearted man, but of extremely little gallantry. age of twenty-six, while yet as immature as most Whenever Poignant was not at his inn, he was at men are at sixteen. The upshot is, that his patri- La Fontaine's, and consequently with his wife, mony dwindled ; ami, though he lived many years when he himself was not at home. Some person with his wife, and had a son, he neglected her took it in his head to ask La Fontaine why he more and more, till at last he forgot that he had suffered these constant visits. " And why," said been married, though he unfortunately did not La Fontaine, "should I not ? He is my best friend." forget that there were other women in the world " The public think otherwise," was the reply besides his Avife. His genius and benevolence gained " they say that he comes for the sakeof Madame La him friends everywhere with both sexes, who never Fontaine." "The public is mistaken ; but what suffered him to want, and who had never cause to must I do in the case?" said the poet. " You complain of his ingratitude. But he was always the must demand satisfaction, sword in hand, of one special-favourite of the Aspasias who ruled France who has dishonoured you." "Very well," said andher kings. Toplease them, he wrote a great deal La Fontaine, " I will demand it." The next day of fine poetry, much of which deserves to be ever- he called on Poignant, at four o'clock in the morn- lastingly forgotten. It must be said for him, that ing, and found him in bed. " Rise," said he, his vice became conspicuous only in the light of " and come out with me !" His friend asked him one of his virtues, His frankness would never what was the matter, and what pressing business allow concealment. He scandalised his friends had brought him so early in the morning. "I " Boileau and Racine ; still, it is matter of doubt shall let you know," replied La Fontaine, when whether they did not excel him rather in prudence we get abroad." Poignant, in great astonishment, than in purity. But, whatever may be said in rose, followed him out, and asked whither he was palliation, it is lamentable to think that a heaven- leading. " You shall know by and by," replied lighted genius should have been made in any way La Fontaine ; and at last, when they had reached to minister to a hell-envenomed vice, which has a retired place, he said, " My friend, we must caused unutterable woes to France and the world. fight." Poignant, still more surprised, sought to Some time before he died, he repented bitterly of know in what he had offended him, and moreover, this part of his course, and laboured, no doubt represented to him that they were not on equal sincerely, to repair the mischiefs he had done. terms. "I am a man of war," said he, "while, As we have already said, Jean was a backward as for you, you have never drawn a sword." " " boy. But, under a dull exterior, the mental No matter,'' said La Fontaine ; the public re- machinery was working splendidly within. He quires that I should fight you." Poignant, after lacked all that outside care and prudence,—that having resisted in vain, at last drew his sword, constant looking out for breakers,—which obstruct and, having easily made himself master of La the growth and ripening of the reflective faculties. Fontaine's, demanded the cause of the quarrel. The vulgar, by a queer mistake, call a man " The public maintains," said La Fontaine, "that absent-minded, when his mind shuts tiie door, pulls you come to my house daily, not for my sake, but " in the latch-string, and is wholly at home. La my wife's." Ah ! my friend," replied the Fontaine's mind was exceedingly domestic. It other, " I should never have suspected that was was nowhere but at home when, riding from Paris the cause of your displeasure, and I protest I will to Chateau- Thierry, a bundle of papers fell from never again put a foot wmiin your doors." " On his saddle-bow without his perceiving it. The the contrary," replied La Fontaine, seizing him mail- carrier, coming behind him, picked it up, by the hand, " 1 have satisfied the public, and and overtaking La Fontaine, asked him if he had now you must come to my house, every day, or lost anything. " Certainly not," he replied, looking I will fight you again." The two antagonists about him with great surprise. " Well, I have just returned, and breakfasted together in good- picked up these papers," rejoined the other. " Ah ! humour. " till they are mine," cried La Fontaine ; they in- It was not, as we have said, his twenty- volve my whole estate." And he eagerly reached second year, that La Fontaine showed any taste to take them. On another occasion he was equally for poetry. The occasion was this : —An officer, at home. Stopping on a journey, he ordered in winter-quarters at Chateau-Thierry, one day dinner at an hotel, and then took a ramble about read to him, with great spirit, an ode of Malherbe, the town. On his return, he entered another beginning thus hotel, and, passing through into the garden, took Que direz-vons, races futures, from his pocket a copy of Livy, in which he Si quelquefois un vrai discours quietly set himself to read till his dinner should Vous recite les aventures be ready. The book made him forget his appetite, De nos abominables jours ? till a servant informed him of his mistake, and he Or, as we might paraphrase it, returned to his hotel just in time to pay his bill and proceed on his journey. "What will ye say, ye future days, It will be perceived that he took the world If I, for once, in honest rhymes, quietly, and his doing so undoubtedly had impor- Recount to you the deeds and ways Of our abominable times ? tant bearings on the style in which he wrote. But we will give another anecdote, which is still more La Fontaine listened with mechanical transports

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ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE. of joy, admiration, and astonishment, as if a man known to the world at the same time. Boileau born with a genius for music, but brought up in a hired a small chamber in the Faubourg Saint desert, had for the first time heard a well-played Germain, where they all met several times a week; instrument. He set himself immediately to read- for La Fontaine, at the age of forty-four, had left ing Malherbe, passed his nights in learning his Chateau-Thierry, and become a citizen of Paris. verses by heart, and his days in declaiming them Here they discussed all sorts of topics, admitting in solitary places. He also read Voiture, and to their society Chapelle, a man of less genius, but began to * write verses in imitation. Happily, at of greater conversational powers, than either of this period, a relative named Pintrel, directed his them—a sort of connecting link between them and attention to ancient literature, and advised him. to the world. Four poets, or four men, could hardly make himself familiar with Horace, Homer, Virgil, have been more unlike. Boileau was blustering,

Terence, and Quinctilian. He accepted this blunt, peremptory, but honest and frank ; Racine, counsel. M. cle Maucroix, another of his friends, of a pleasant and tranquil gaiety, but mischievous who cultivated poetry with success, also contri- and sarcastic ; Moliere was naturally considerate, buted to confirm his taste for the ancient models. pensive, and melancholy ; La Fontaine was often His great delight, however, was to read Plato and absent-minded, but sometimes exceedingly jovial, Plutarch, which he did only through translations. delighting with his sallies, his witty naivetes, and The copies which he used are said to bear his his' arch simplicity. These meetings, which no manuscript notes on almost every page, and these doubt had a great influence upon French litera- notes are the maxims which are to be found in ture, La Fontaine, in one of his prefaces, thus his fables. Returning from this study of the describes : —" Four friends, whose acquaintance ancients, he read the moderns with more discri- had begun at the foot of Parnassus, held a sort of mination. His favourites, besides Malherbe, Avere society, which I should call an Academy, if their Corneille, Rabelais, and Marot. In Italian, he number had been sufficiently great, and if they had read Ariosto, Boccaccio, and Machiavel. In 16'54, had as much regard for the Muses as for pleasure. he published his first work, a translation of the The first thing which they did was to banish from Eunuch of Terence. It met with no success. among them all rules of conversation, and every- But this does not seem at all to have disturbed its thing which savours of the academic conference. author. He cultivated verse-making with as much When they met, and had sufficiently discussed ardour and good-humour as ever ; and his verses their amusements, if chance threw them upon any soon began to be admired in the circle of his point of science or belles-lettres, they profited by friends. No man had ever more devoted friends. the occasion ; it was, however, without dwelling Verses that have cost thought are not relished too long on the same subject, flitting from one without thought. When a genius appears, it thing to another like the bees that meet divers takes some little time for the world to educate sorts of flowers on their way. Neither envy, itself to a knowledge of the fact. By one of his malice, nor cabal, had any voice among them. friends, La Fontaine was introduced to Fouquet, They adored the works of the ancients, never re- the minister of finance, a man of great power, fused due praise to those of the moderns, spoke and who rivalled his sovereign in wealth and modestly of their own, and gave each other sincere luxury. It was his pride to be the patron of counsel, when any one of them—which rarely literary men, and he was pleased to make La happened—fell into the malady of the age, and Fontaine his poet, settling on him a pension of one published a book.'' thousand francs per annum, on condition that he The absent-mindedness of our fabulist not un- should produce a piece in verse each quarter, — frequently created much amusement on these condition which was exactly complied with till the occasions, and made him the object of mirthful

1 fall of the minister. conspiracies. So keen '.' was the game pursued Foucmet was a most splendid villain, and posi- by Boileau and Racine, that the more considerate tively, though perhaps not comparatively, deserved Moliere felt obliged sometimes to expose and re- to fall. But it was enough for La Fontaine that Fou- buke them. Once, after having clone so, he quet had done him a kindness. He took the part of privately told a stranger, who was present with the disgraced minister, without counting the cost. them, the wits would have worried themselves in " His Elegy to the Nymphs of Vaux" was a shield vain ; they could not have obliterated the bon- to the fallen man, and turned popular hatred into homme. sympathy. The good-hearted poet rejoiced ex- La Fontaine, as we have said, was an admirer

ceedingly in its success. Bon-homme was the appel- of Eabelais ; —to what a pitch, the following anec- lation which his friends pleasantly gave him, and by dote may show. At one of the meetings at which he became known everywhere ;—and never Boileau's were present Racine, Valincourt, and a did a man better deserve it in its best sense. He brother of Boileau's, a doctor of the Sorbonne. The was good by nature —not by the calculation of con- latter took it upon him to set forth the merits of sequences. Indeed it does not seem ever to have St. Augustin in a pompous eulogium. La Fon- occurred to him that kindness, gratitude, and taine, plunged in one of his habitual reveries, truth, could have any other than good consequences. listened without hearing. At last, rousing himself He was truly a Frenchman without guile, and as if from a profound sleep, to prove that the con- possessed to perfection that comfortable trait,—in versation had not been lost upon him, he asked which French character is commonly allowed to the doctor, with a very serious air, whether he excel the English, good-humour with the whole thought St. Augustin had as much wit as Rabelais. world. The divine, surprised, looked at him from head to La Fontaine was the intimate friend of Moliere, foot, and only replied, " Take care, Monsieur La Boileau, and Racine. Moliere had already es- Fontaine ; —you have put one of your stockings on tablished a reputation ; but the others became wrong side outwards" —which was the fact.

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ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE.

It was in 1668 that La Fontaine published his To be " rebels against Love " was quite unpardon- first collection of fables, under the modest title able with La Fontaine ; and to bring about a Fables Choisies, mises en Vers, in a quarto volume, "hymen force" was a crime, of which he proba- with figures designed and engraved by Chauveau. bly spoke with some personal feeling. The great It contained six books, and was dedicated to the popularity of " Psyche " encouraged the author to Dauphin. Many of the fables had already been publish two volumes of poems and tales in 1671, published in a separate form. The success of this in which were contained several new fables. The collection was so great, that it was reprinted the celebrated Madame de Sevigne thus speaks of these same year in a smaller size. Fables had come fables, in one of her letters to her daughter : " to be regarded as beneath poetry ; La Fontaine But have you not admired the beauty of the five established them at once on the top of Parnassus. or six fables of La Fontaine, contained in one of

The ablest poets of his age did not think it beneath the volumes which I sent you 1 "We were charmed them to enter the lists with him ; and it is needless with them the other day at M. de la Rochefou- to say they came off second best. cauld's : we got by heart that of the Monkey and One of the fables of the first book is addressed the Cat." Then, quoting some lines, she adds, " to the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, and was the con- This is painting ! And the Pumpkin—and the sequence of a friendship between La Fontaine and Nightingale—they are worthy of the first volume!" " Con- It the author of the celebrated Maxims." was in his Stories that La Fontaine excelled ; nected with the duke was Madame La Fayette, and Madame de Sevigne expresses a wish to invent one of the most learned and ingenious women of a fable which would impress upon him the folly of her age, who consequently became the admirer leaving his peculiar province. He seemed himself and friend of the fabulist. To her he wrote verses not insensible where his strength lay, and seldom abundantly, as he did to all who made him the ventured upon any other ground, except at the object of their kind regard. Indeed, notwith- instance of his friends. With all his lightness, he standing his avowed indolence, or rather passion felt a deep veneration for religion—the most spi- for quiet and sleep, his pen was very productive. ritual and rigid which came within the circle of In 1669, he published " Psyche," a romance in his immediate acquaintance. He admired Janse- prose and verse, which he dedicated to the nius and the Port Royalists, and heartily loved Duchess de Bouillon, in gratitude for many kind- Racine, who was of their faith. Count Henri- nesses. The prose is said to be better than the Louis de Lomenie, of Brienne,—who, after being verse ; but this can hardly be true in respect to secretary of state, had retired to the Oratoire, the following lines, in which the poet under the —was engaged in bringing out a better collection apt name of Polyphile, in. a hymn addressed to of Christian lyrics. To this work he pressed La Pleasure, undoubtedly sketches himself: — Fontaine, whom he called his particular friend, to lend his name and contributions. Thus the author Volupte. qui fus jadis maitresse Volupte, of "Psyche,'' " Adonis," and " Joconde," was led Du plus bel esprit de la Grece, to the composition of pious hymns, and versifica- Ne me dedaigne pas ; viens-t'en loger chez moi tions of the Psalms of David. Gifted by nature- Tu n'y seras pas sans emploi J'aime le jcu, l'amour, les livres, la musiquc, with the utmost frankness of disposition, he sym- in the La ville et la campagne, enfin tout ; il n'est rien pathised fully with Arnauld and Pascal war

Qui ne me soit souverain bien, against the Jesuits ; and it would seem, from his Jusqu'au sombre plaisir d'un cceur mclancoliquc. Ballade sur Escobar, that he had read and relished Vicns done .... the " Provincial Letters." This ballad, as it may

be a curiosity to many, shall be given entire : The characteristic grace and playfulness of this seem to defy translation. To the mere English reader, the sense may be roughly given thus : ^allaue

Delight, Delight, who didst as mistress hold SUR ESCOBAR. The finest wit of Grecian mould, C'est a bon droit que Ton condamne a Rome Disdain not me ; but come, And make my house thy home. L'eveque d'Ypre.* auteur de vains debats ; defendent en Thou shalt not be without employ : Ses sectateurs nous somme In play, love, music, books, I joy, Tous les plaisirs que Ton goute ici-bas. allant petit pas, In town and country ; and, indeed, there's nought, En paradis au E'en to the luxury of sober thought, On y parvient, quoi qu'AitNAULD nous en die The sombre, melancholy mood, La volupte sans cause il a bannie. - But brings to me the sovereign good. Veut-on monter sur les celestes toux s, Come, then, &c. Chemin pierreux est grande reverie, EscoEAk saitun chemin de velours. The same Polyphile, in recounting his adven- | tures visit to tells II ne dit pas qu'on peut tuer unhomme on a the infernal regions, us ! Qui sans raison nous tient en altercas that lie saw, in the hands of the cruel Eumenides, Pour un fetu ou bien pour une pemme Les auteurs de mafnt hymen force, Mais qu'on le peut pour quatre ou cinq ducats. ! Meme il soutient qu on peut en certains cas L'amant chiche, et la dame au cceur interesse ; Faire un serment plein de supercherie, La troupe des censeurs, peuple a FAmour rebelle ; Ceux enfin dont les vers ont noirci quelque belle. S'abandonner aux douceurs de la vie, S'il est besoin conserver ses amours. T Artificers of many a loveless match, !S e faut-il pas apres cela qu'on crie And lovers Escobar sait un chemin de velours ? who but sought the pence to catch ; The crew censorious, rebels against Love And those whose verses soiled the fair above. * Corneille Jansenius.

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ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE.

An nom de Dieu, lisez-moi quelque somine wife, no bettor qualified to manage worldly gear De ces ecrits dont chez lui Ton fait cas. than himself, probably lived on her famijy friends, Q,u'est-il besoin qu'a present je les norame ? who were able to support her, and who seem to II en est tant qu'on ne les connoit pas ! have done so without blaming him. She had compas De leurs avis servez-vous pour lived with him in Paris for some time after that N'admettez qu'eux en votre librairie city became his abode ; but, tiring at length of Brulez Arnauld avec sa coterie, the city life, she had returned to Chateau- Thierry, Pres d'EscoBAR ce ne sont qu'esprits lourds. and occupied the family mansion. At the earnest Je vous le dis : ce n'est point railleric, Escobar sait un chemin de velours. expostulation of Boileau and Racine, who wished to make him a better husband, he returned to ENVOI. Chateau-Thierry himself, in 1666, for the purpose of becoming reconciled to his wife. his Toi, que l'orgueil poussa dans la voirie, But pur- Qui tiens la-bas noire conciergeric, pose strangely vanished. He called at his own Lucifer, chef des infernales cours, house, learned from the domestic, who did not Pour eviter les traits de ta furie, know him, that Madame La Fontaine was in good Escobar sait un chemin de velours. health, and passed on to the house of a friend, where he tarried two days, and then returned to Thus does the Bon-homme treat the subtle Paris without having seen his wife. When his Escobar, the prince and prototype of the moralists friends inquired of him his success, with some of expediency. To translate his artless and deli- confusion he replied, " I have been to see her, cate irony is hardly possible. The writer of this but I did not find her : she was well." Twenty hasty Preface offers the following only as an years after that, Racine prevailed on him to visit attempted imitation : 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, UPON ESCOBAR. told me that you took my silence in very bad part: the worse, because you had been told that I have cause has Rome to reprobate Good been incessantly at work since my arrival at

The bishop who disputes her so ; Chateau-Thierry, and that, instead of applying His followers reject and hate myself to my affairs, I have had nothing in All pleasures that we taste below. my To heaven an easy pace may go, head but verses. All this is no more than half Whatever crazy Arnauld saith, true : my affairs occupy me as much as they

Who aims at pleasure causeless wrath. deserve to— that is to say not at ail ; but the Seek we the better world afar ? leisure which they leave me— it is not poetry, but We're fools to choose the rugged path : idleness, which makes away with it." On a cer- velvet road hath Escobar. A tain occasion, in the earlier part of his life, when pressed in regard to his improvidence, he gaily Although he does not say you can, produced the following epigram, which has com- Should one with you for nothing strive, monly been appended to his fables as " The Epitaph Or for a trifle, kill the man " of La Fontaine, written by Himself : You can for ducats four or five. Indeed, if circumstances drive, Jean s'en alia comme il etoit venu. Defraud, or take false oaths you may, Mangea le fonds avec le revenu, Or to the charms of life give way, Tint les tresors chose peu necessaire. When Love must needs the door unbar. Quant a son temps, bien sut le dispenser : Henceforth must not the pilgrim say, Deux parts en fit, dont il souloit passer A velvet road hath Escobar ? L'une a dormir, et l'autre a ne rien faire.

Now, would to God that one would state The pith of all his works to me. This confession, the immortality of which was so What boots it to enumerate ? little foreseen by its author, liberally rendered,

As well attempt to drain the sea ! amounts to the following :

Your chart and compass let them be ; John All other books put under ban ; went as he came—ate his farm with its fruits, Arnauld his rigid clan Held treasure to be but the cause of disputes Burn and ;

They're blockheads if we but compare ; And, as to his time, be it frankly confessed, It is no joke,—I tell you, man, Divided it daily as suited him best, A velvet road hath Escobar. 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 it and Heaven Thou warden of the prison black, to do ; Who didst on heaven turn thy back, kindly furnished them. When his affairs began

The chieftain of th' infernal war ! to be straitened, he was invited by the celebrated To shun thy arrows and thy rack, Madame dela Sabliereto make her house his home; A velvet road hath Escobar. and there, in fact, he was thoroughly domiciliated for twenty years. " I have sent away all my " The verses of La Fontaine did more for his re- domestics," said that lady, one day ; I have putation than for his purse. His paternal estate kept only my dog, my cat, and La Fontaine." wasted away under his carelessness ; for, when She was, perhaps, the best- educated woman in the ends of the year refused to meet, he sold a France, was the mistress of several languages, piece of land sufficient to make them do so. His knew Horace and Virgil by heart, and had been

127 ;

ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE. thoroughly indoctrinated in all the sciences by the perceived that he had forgotten to bring the book ablest masters. Her husband. M. Rambouillet de which he was to present ; he was, nevertheless, la Sabliere, was secretary to the king, and register favourably received, and loaded with presents. of domains, and to immense wealth united con- But it is added, that, on his return, he also lost, siderable poetical talents, with a thorough know- by his absence of mind, the purse full of gold ledge of the world. It was the will of Madarne de which the king had given him, which was happily la Sabliere, that her favourite poet should have no found under a cushion of the carriage in which he further care for his external wants ; and never rode. was a mortal more perfectly resigned. He did all In his advertisement to the second part of his honour to the sincerity of his amiable hostess Fables, La Fontaine informs the reader that he and, if he ever showed a want of independence, he had treated his subjects in a somewhat different certainly did not of gratitude. Compliments of style. In fact, in his first collection, he had more touching tenderness we nowhere meet than timidly confined himself to the brevity of iEsop those which La Fontaine has j:>aid to his benefac- and Phcedrus ; but, having observed that those tress. He published nothing which was not first fables were most popular in which he had given submitted to her eye, and entered into her affairs most scope to his own genius, he threw off the and friendships with all his heart. Her unbounded trammels in the second collection, and, in the confidence in his integrity she expressed by saving, opinion of the writer, much for the better. His " La Fontaine never lies in prose." By her death, subjects, too, in the second part, are frequently in 1393, our fabulist was left without a home; derived from the Indian fabulists, and bring with. but his many friends vied with each other which them the richness and dramatic interest of the should next furnish one. He was then seventy- Hitopadesa. two >ears of age, had turned his attention to per- Of all his fables, the Oak and the Reed is said sonal religion, and received the seal of conversion to have been the favourite of La Fontaine. But at the hands of the Roman Catholic church. In his critics have almost unanimously given the his conversion, as in the rest of his life, his frank- palm of excellence to the Animals sick of the ness left no room to doubt his sincerity. The Plague, the first of the seventh book. Its exqui- writings which had justly given offence to the site poetry, the. perfection of its dialogue, and the good were made the subject of a public confession, weight of its moral, well entitle it to the place. and everything in his power was done to prevent That must have been a soul replete with honesty, their circulation. The death of one who had done which could read such a lesson in the ears of a so much for him, and whose last days, devoted proud and oppressive court. Indeed, we may with the most self-denying benevolence to the look in vain through this encyclopaedia of fable for welfare of her species, had taught him a most a sentiment which goes to justify the strong in salutary lesson, could not but be deeply felt. He their oppression of the weak. Even in the midst had just left the house of his deceased benefactress, of the fulsome compliments which it was the never again to enter it, when he met M. d'Hervart fashion of his age to pay to royalty, La Fontaine in the street, who eagerly said to him, " My dear maintains a reserve and decency peculiar to him- La Fontaine, I was looking for you, to beg you to self. By an examination of his fables, we think. come and take lodgings in my house." " I was we might fairly establish for him the character of going thither," replied La Fontaine. A reply could an honest and disinterested lover and respecter of not have been more characteristic. The fabulist his species. In his fable entitled Death and the sufficient Dying, unites the genius of Pascal had not in him hypocrisy of which to he and Moliere ; manufacture the commonplace politeness of society. in that of the Two Doves is a tenderness quite His was the politeness of a warm and unsuspect- peculiar to himself, and an insight into the heart ing heart. He never concealed his confidence, in worthy of Shakspeare. In his Mogul's Dream the fear that it might turn out to be misplaced. are sentiments worthy of the very high-priest of His second collection of fables, containing five nature, and expressed, in his own native tongue books, La Fontaine published in 1G78-9, with a with a felicity which makes the translator feel that dedication to Madame de Montespan ; the previous all his labours are but vanity and vexation of six books were republished at the same time, spirit. But it is not the purpose of this brief revised and enlarged. The twelfth book was not Preface to criticise the Fables. It is sufficient to added till many years after, and proved, in fact, say, that the work occupies a position in French the song of the dying swan. It was written for literature, which, after all has been said that the special use of the young Duke de Bourgogne, can be for Gay, Moore, and others, — English the royal, pupil of Fenelon, to whom it contains versifiers of fables, — is left quite vacant in frequent allusions. The eleven books now pub- ours. lished sealed the reputation of La Fontaine, and Our author was elected a member of the French were received with distinguished regard by the Academy in 1684, and received with the honour king, who appended to the ordinary protocol or of a public session. He read on this occasion a imprimatur for publication the following reasons : poem of exquisite beauty, addressed to his bene- " In order to testify to the author the esteem we factress, Madame de la Sabliere. In that distin- have for his person and his merit, and because guished body of men he was a universal favourite ; youth have received great advantage in their edu- and none, perhaps, did more to promote its prime cation from the fables selected and put in verse, object—the improvement of the French language. which he has heretofore published." The author We have already seen how he was regarded by was, moreover, permitted to present his book in some of the greatest minds of his age. Voltaire, person to the sovereign. For this purpose he who never did more than justice to merit other repaired to Versailles, and after having well than his own, said of the Fables, " I hardly know delivered himself of his compliment to royalty, a book which more abounds with charms adapted

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ON FABLE, THE FABULISTS, AND LA FONTAINE. to the people, and at the same time to persons of middle of the Rue du Chantre, I was taken with refined taste. I believe that, of all authors, La such a faintness that I really thought myself

Fontaine is the most universally read. He is for dying. 0, my friend, to die is nothing ; but think all minds and all ages.." La Bruyere, when ad- you how I am going to appear before God ! You mitted to the Aeadem.y, in 1693, was warmly know how I have lived. Before you receive this applauded for his eloge upon La Fontaine, which billet, the gates of eternity will perhaps have been — !" contained the following words : " More equal opened upon me To this, a few days after, than Marot, and more poetical than Voiture, La his friend replied, a If God, in his kindness, Fontaine has the playfulness, felicity, and artless- restores you to health, I hope you will come and ness of both. He instructs while he sports, per- spend the rest of your life with me, and we shall suades men to virtue by means of beasts, and often talk together of the mercies of God. If, exalts trifling subjects to the sublime ; a man however, you have not strength to write, ' beg unique in his species of composition, always origi- M. Racine to do me that kindness, the greatest he nal, whether he invents or translates,—who has can ever do for me. Adieu, my good, my old, and gone beyond his models, himself a model hard to my true friend. May God, in his infinite good- imitate." ness, take care of the health of your body, and that La Fontaine, as we have said, devoted his latter of your soul." He died the 13th of April, 1C95, days to religion. In this he was sustained and at the age of seventy-three, and was buried in the cheered by his old friends Racine and De Maucroix. cemetery of the Saints-Innocents. Death overtook him while applying his poetical When Fenelon heard of his death, he wrote a powers to the hymns of the church. To De Mau- Latin eulogium, which he gave to his royal pupil — " " croix he wrote, a little before his death, " I assure to translate. La Fontaine is no more ! said " you that the best of your friends cannot count upon Fenelon, in this composition ; he is no more more than fifteen days of life. For these two and with him have gone the playful jokes, the months I have not gone abroad, except occasion- merry laugh, the artless graces, and the sweet ally to attend the Academy, for a little amusement. Muses.'' Yesterday, as I was returning from it, in the

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FABLES OF LA FONTAINE,

TO MONSEIGNEUR THE DAUPHIN. II.—THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.

I sing the heroes of old JSsop's line, Perch'd on a lofty oak, Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, Sir Raven held a lunch of cheese ; Containeth truths it were not ill to teach. Sir Fox, who smelt it in the breeze, all gift of speech With me natures use the ; Thus to the holder spoke : Yea, in work, the very fishes preach, my Ha ! how do you do, Sir Raven ? And to our human selves their sermons suit, Well, your coat, sir, is a brave one ! "lis thus to come at man I use the brute. So black and glossy, on my word, sir, With voice to match, you were a bird, sir, Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies, Well fit to be the Phoenix of these days. On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes, Sir Raven, overset with praise, Who hence shall count his concmests by his days, Must snow how musical his croak. And gather from the proudest lips his praise, fell Down the luncheon from the oak ; louder voice than mine must tell in song A Which snatching up, Sir Fox thus spoke What virtues to thy kingly line belong. The flatterer, my good sir, I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes, Aye liveth on his listener Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams ; ; Which lesson, if you please, And if to please thee shall not be my pride, Is doubtless worth the cheese. I'll gain at least the praise of having tried. A bit too late, Sir Raven swore The rogue should never cheat him more

BOOK I.

L—THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.

A grasshopper gay III.— THE FROG THAT WISHED TO EE AS Sang the summer away, BIG AS THE OX. And found herself poor By the winter's first roar. The tenant of a bog, Of meat or of bread, An envious little frog,

Not a morsel she had ! Not bigger than an egg, So a begging she went, A stately bullock spies, To her neighbour the ant, And, smitten with his size, For the loan of some wheat, Attempts to be as big. Which would serve her to eat With earnestness and pains, Till the season came round. She stretches, swells, and strains, I will pay you, she saith, And says, Sis Frog, look here ! see me !

On an animal's faith, Is this enough ? No, no. Double weight in the pound Well, then, is this 1 Poh ! poll !

Ere the harvest be bound. Enough ! you don't begin to be. The ant is a friend And thus the reptile sits, (And here she might mend) Enlarging till she splits. Little given to lend. The world is full of folks

How spent you the summer % Of just such wisdom ; Quoth she, looking shame The lordly dome provokes At the borrowing dame. The cit to build his dome ; Night and day to each comer And, really, there is no telling I sang, if you please. How much great men set little onea a swelling.

sang ! I'm You at ease ; For 'tis plain a,t a glance, Now, ma'am, you must dance.

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THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE [BOOK. I.

Tears glistening in his eyes, But faring on, he spies IV.—THE TWO MULES. A gall'd spot on the mastiff's neck.

What's that ? he cries. 0, nothing but a speck. Two mules were bearing on their backs, A speck ? Ay, 'tis not enough to pain ay ; me ; One, oats the other, silver of the tax. ; Perhaps the collar's mark by which they chain me. The latter, glorying in his load, Chain ! chain you ! What ! run you not, then, March'd proudly forward on the road ; Just where you please, and when ? And, from the jingle of his bell, Not always, sir ; but what of that I 'Twas plain he liked his burden well. Enough for me, to spoil your fat ! But in a wild-wood glen It ought to be a precious price band of robber men A Which could to servile chains entice Rush'd forth upon the twain. For me, I'll shun them while I've wit. Well with the silver pleased, So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet. They by the bridle seized The treasure-mule so vain.

Poor mule ! in struggling to repel His ruthless foes, he fell VI. — THE HEIFER, THE GOAT, AND TIIE

Stabb'd through ; and with a bitter sighing. SHEEP, IX COMPANY WITn TIIE LION. He cried, Is this the lot they promised me ? My humble friend from danger free, The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep, Compacted their earnings in common to keep. While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying ? |

My friend, his fellow-mule replied, : 'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade. It is not well to have one's work too high. ; If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I, ' The goat, as it happen'd, a stag having snared, Thou wouldst not thus have died. ' Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared. All lion first his j gather'd ; the counts on claws, And says, We'll proceed to divide with our paws J

: The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws. This done, he announces part first as his own V.—THE "WOLF AXD THE DOG. ; 'Tis mine, he says, truly, as lion alone. To such a decision there's nought to be said, A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin As he who has made it is doubtless the head. (So strict the watch of dogs had been) Well, also, the second to me should belong Hid little but his bones, ; 'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong. Once met a mastiff dog astray. Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine. A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray, To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign, No human mortal owns. I'll choke him to death Sir Wolf in famish'd plight, In the space of a breath ! Would fain have made a ration

Upon his fat relation ;

But then he first must fight ; And well the dog seenrd able VII.—TIIE WALLET. To save from wolfish table His carcass snug and tight. From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, So, then, in civil conversation Let all that live before my throne appear, The wolf express'd his admiration And there if any one hath aught to blame, Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely, In matter, form, or texture of his frame, Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly, He may bring forth his grievance without fear. Quit but the woods, advised by me. Redress shall instantly be given to each. For all your fellows here, I see, Come, monkey, now, first let us have your speech. Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, You see these quadrupeds your brothers Belike to die of haggard want. Comparing, then, yourself with others,

With such a pack, of course it follows, Are you well satisfied ? And wherefore not ?

One fights for every bit he swallow?. Said Jock. Haven't I four trotters with the rest I

Come, then, with me, and share Is not my visage comely as the best ? On equal terms our princely fare. But this my brother Bruin, is a blot But what with you On thy creation fair.;

Has one to do % And sooner than be painted I'd be shot, Inquires the wolf. Light -work indeed, Were I, great sire, a bear. Replies the dog you only need The bear approaching, doth he make complaint ? ; j To bark a little now and then, Not he ;—himself he lauds without restraint. J

To chase off duns and beggar men, The elephant he needs must criticise ; To fawn on friends that come or go forth, To crop his ears and stretch his tail were wise; please, so size. Your master and forth ; A creature he of huge, misshapen For which you have to eat The elephant though famed as beast judicious, All sorts of well-cook'd meat While on his own account he had no wishes, pullets, pigeons, savoury suit his taste Cold messes | Pronounced dame whale too big to ; Besides unnumber'd fond caresses. Of flesh and fat she was a perfect waste. wolf, force of appetite, The little the gnat The by ant, again, pronounced too wee ; Accepts the terms outright, To such a speck, a vast colossus she.

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BOOK I.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

Each censured by the rest, himself content, O'er desert waves and sands, Back to their homes all living things were sent. In search of other lands. Such folly liveth yet with human fools. Hence, then, to save your precious souls, For others lynxes, for ourselves but moles, Bemaineth but to say, Great blemishes in other men we spy, 'Twill be the safest way Which in ourselves we pass most kindly by. To chuck yourselves in holes. As in this world we're but way-farers, Before she had thus far gone, Kind Heaven has made us wallet-bearers. The birdlings, tired of hearing, The pouch behind our own defects must store, And laughing more than fearing, The faults of others loctee in that before. Set up a greater jargon Than did, before the Trojan slaughter, The Trojans round old Priam's daughter. And many a bird, in prison grate, VIII.—THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS. Lamented soon a Trojan fate. By voyages in air, 'Tis thus we heed no instincts but I our own With constant thought and care, Believe no evii till the evil's done. 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. IX.—THE CITY RAT AND THE COUNTRY RA'. A farmer sowing hemp once having found, city rat, one night, She gather'd all the little birds around, A Did with a civil stoop And said, My friends, the freedom let me take A country rat invite To prophesy a little, for your sake, Against this dangerous seed. To end a turtle soup. Though such a bird as I Upon a Turkey carpet Knows how to hide or fly, They found the table spread. You birds a caution need. And sure I need not harp it See you that waving hand ? How well the fellows fed. It scatters on the land What well may cause alarm. The entertainment was 'Twill grow to nets A truly noble one and snares, ; To catch you unawares, But some unlucky cause

And work you fatal harm ! Disturb'd it when begun. Great multitudes I fear, It was a slight rat-tat, Of you, my birdies dear, That put their joys to rout That falling seed, so little, Out ran the city rat Will bring to cage or kettle ! His guest, too, scamper'd But though so perilous the plot, out. You now may easily defeat it Our rats but fairly quit, All lighting on the seeded spot, The fearful knocking ceased. Just scratch up every seed and eat it. Beturn we, cried the cit, The little birds took little heed, To finish there our feast. So fed were they with other seed. Anon the field was seen No, said the rustic rat Bedeck'd in tender green. To-morrow dine with me. The swallow's warning voice was heard again I'm not offended at My friends, the product of that deadly grain, Your feast so grand and free,— Seize now, and pull it root by root, For I've no fare resembling Or surely you'll repent its fruit. ; But then I eat at leisure, False, babbling prophetess, says one, And would not swap for pleasure You'd set us at some pretty fun ! So mix'd with fear and trembling. 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 faiPd of cure ; X.—THE WOLF AND THE LAME. I've prophesied in vain

Against this fatal grain : That innocence is not a shield, It's grown. And now, my bonny birds, A story teaches, not the longest. Though you have disbelieved my words The strongest reasons always yield Thus far, take heed at last, To reasons of the strongest. When you shall see the seed time past, lamb her thirst was slaking And men. no crops to labour for, A On birds shall wage their cruel war, Once at a mountain rill. With deadly net and noose; A hungry wolf was taking Of flying then beware, His hunt for sheep to kill, spying the streamlet's Unless you take the air, When, on brink tender Like woodcock, crane, or goose- This sheep of age, He howl'd in tones of rage, But stop ; you're not in plight dare you roil For such adventurous flight, How my drink \

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Your impudence I shall chastise ! Let not your majesty, the lamb replies, XII.—THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND

Decide in haste or passion ! THE DRAGON WITH MANY TAILS. For sure 'tis difficult to think In what respect or fashion An envoy of the Porte Sublime, As history says, once on a time, My drinking here could roil your drink, Since on the stream your majesty now faces Before th' imperial German court Did rather boastfully report I'm lower down full twenty paces. The troops commanded by his master's firman, You roil it, said the wolf; and, more, I know As being than the : You cursed and slander'd me a year ago. a stronger army German To which replied a Dutch attendant, no ! how could I such a thing have done ! Our prince has than one dependant A lamb that has not seen a year, more Who keeps an army at his own expense. A suckling of its mother dear ? The Turk, a of sense, Your brother then. But brother I have none. man Rejoin'd, I aware Well, well, what's all the same, am What power your emperor's servants share. 'Twas some one of your name. It brings to mind tale both strange true, Sheep, men, and dogs of every nation, a and A thing which once, myself, I chanced to view. Are wont to stab my reputation, I saw come darting through a hedge, As I have truly heard. fortified rocky Without another word, Which a ledge, A hydra's hundred heads ; and in a trice He made his vengeance good, My blood was turning into ice. Bore off the lambkin to the wood, But less the harm than terror, And there without a jury, The body came no nearer Judged, slew, and ate her in his fury. ; 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, XI. — THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE. Whose single head avails TO M. THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. To lead a hundred tails : And, seized with juster fright, A man, who had no rivals in the love I saw him pass the hedge, Which to himself he bore, Head, body, tails,—a wedge Esteenvd his own dear beauty far above Of living and resistless powers. What earth had seen before. The other was your emperor's force this ours. 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 XIII.—THE THIEVES AND THE ASS. The mute advisers which the ladies prize ;— Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops. Two thieves, pursuing their pi-ofession, Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops, Had of a donkey got possession, Mirrors on every lady's zone, Whereon a strife arose, From which his face reflected shone. Which went from words to blows. AVhat could our dear Narcissus do ? The question was to sell, or not to sell From haunts of men he now withdrew, But while our sturdy champions fought it well, On purpose that his precious shape Another thief, who chanced to pass, From every mirror might escape. With ready wit rode off the ass. But in his forest glen alone, Apart from human trace, This ass is, by interpretation, A watercourse, Some province poor, or prostrate nation. Of purest source, The thieves are princes this and that, While with unconscious gaze On spoils and plunder prone to fat,— He pierced its waveless face, As those of Austria, Turkey, Hungary. Reflected back his own. (Instead of two, I've quoted three Incensed with mingled rage and fright, Enough of such commodity.) He seeks to shun the odious sight These powers engaged in war all, But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still, Some fourth thief stops the quarrel, He cannot leave, do what he will. According all to one key By riding off the donkey. Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see. Fi-om such mistake there is no mortal free. That obstinate self-lover

The human soul doth cover ; The mirrors follies are of others, XIV.—SIMONIDES PRESERVED BY THE GODS In which, as all are genuine brothers, Each soul may see to life depicted Three sorts there are, as Malherbe says, Itself with just such faults afflicted; Which one can never overpraise

And by that charming placid brook, The gods, the ladies, and the king ; Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book. And I, for one, endorse the thing.

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The heart, praise tickles and entices ; On gods and godlike men. Again, Of fair one's smile, it oft the price is. To sell the product of her pain See how the gods sometimes repay it. Is not degrading to the muse. Simonides—the ancients say it Indeed, her art they do abuse, Once undertook, in poem lyric, Who think her wares to use, liberal To -write a wrestler's panegyric ; And yet a pay refuse. "W hich ere he had proceeded far in, Whate'er the great confer upon her, He found his subject somewhat barren. They're honour'd by it while they honour. No ancestors of great renown, Of old, Olympus and Parnassus His sire of some unnoted town, In friendship heaved their sky-crown'd masses. Himself as little known to fame, The wrestler's praise was rather tame. The poet, having made the most of XV.—DEATH AND THE UNFORTUNATE. Whate'er his hero had to boast of, Digress'd, by choice that was not all luck's, A poor unfortunate, from clay to day, To Castor and his brother Pollux ; Call'd Death to take him from this world away. Whose bright career was subject ample, Death, he said, to me how fair thy form ! For wrestlers, sure, a good example. Come quick, and end for me life's cruel storm. poet fatten' d on their story, Our Death heard, and, with a ghastly grin, Gave every fight its place and glory, Knock'd at his door, and enter'd in. Till of his panegyric words With horror shivering, and affright, These deities had got two thirds. Take out this object from my sight, All done, the poet's fee The poor man loudly cried ; talent was to be. A Its looks I can't dreadful abide ; But when he comes his bill to settle, stay him, stay him ; let him come no nigher The wrestler, with a spice of mettle, j Death ! Death ! I pray thee to retire. Pays down a third, and tells the poet, gentleman of note The balance they may pay who owe it. A The gods than I are rather debtors In Rome, Maecenas, somewhere wrote : To such a pious man of letters. Make me the poorest wretch that begs, Sore, hungry, crippled, clothed in rags, But still I shall be greatly pleased In hopeless impotence of arms and legs To have your presence at my feast, J Among a knot of guests select, Provided, after all, you give My kin, and friends I most respect. The one sweet liberty to live, More fond of character than coffer, I'll ask of Death no greater favour Simonides accepts the offer. Than just to stay away for ever. While at the feast the party sit, And wine provokes the flow of wit, It is announced that at the gate XVI.—DEATH AND THE WOODMAN. Two men, in haste that cannot wait, Would see the bard. He leaves the table, A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load, No loss at all to'ts noisy gabble. Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd, The men were Leda's twins, who knew Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest, What to a poet's praise was due, Trudged wearily along his homeward road. And, thanking, paid him by foretelling At last his wood upon the ground he throws, The downfall of the wrestler's dwelling. And sits him down to think o'er all his woes. From which ill-fated pile, indeed, To joy a stranger, since his hapless birth, No sooner was the poet freed, What poorer wretch upon this rolling earth ? Than, props and pillars failing, No bread sometimes, and ne'er a moment's rest Which held aloft the ceiling 5 Wife, children, soldiers, landlords, public tax, So splendid o'er them, All wait the swinging of his old, worn axe, It downward loudly crash'd, And paint the veriest picture of a man unblest. The plates and flagons dash'd, On Death he calls. Forthwith that monarch grim. And men who bore them ; Appears, and asks what he should do for him. And, what was worse, Not much, indeed ; a little help I lack Full vengeance for the man of verse, To put these fagots on my back. A timber broke the wrestler's thighs, And wounded many otherwise. Death ready stands all ills to cure, The gossip Fame, of course, took care But let us not his cure invite. Abroad to publish this affair. Than die, 'tis better to endure, Is both a manly and right A miracle ! the public cried, delighted. maxim a No more could god-beloved bard be slighted. His verse now brought him more than double, With neither duns, nor care, nor trouble. XVII.—THE MAN BETWEEN TWO AGES, AN1> Whoe'er laid claim to noble birth HIS TWO MISTRESSES. Must buy his ancestors a slice, Resolved no nobleman on earth A man of middle age, wnose hair Should overgo him in the price. Was bordei'ing on the gray, From which these serious lessons flow : Began to turn his thoughts and care Fail not your praises to bestow The matrimonial way.

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By virtue of his ready, A store of choices had he XIX.—THE BOY AND THE SCHOOLMASTER. to suit his Of ladies bent taste ; On which account he made no haste. Wise counsel is not always wise, To court well was no trifling art. As this my tale exemplifies. Two widows chiefly gain'd his heart A boy, that frolick'd on the banks of Seine, The one yet green, the other more mature, Fell in, and would have found a watery grave, Who found for nature's wane in art a cure. Had not that hand that planteth ne'er in vain These dames, amidst them joking and caressing A willow planted there, his life to save. The man they long'd to wed, While hanging by its branches as he might, Would sometimes set themselves to dressing A certain sage preceptor came in sight His party-colour'd head. To whom the urchin cried, Save, or I'm drown'd. Each aiming to assimilate The master, turning gravely at the sound, Her lover to her own estate, Thought proper for a while to stand aloof, The older piecemeal stole And give the boy some seasonable reproof.

The black hair from his poll, You little wretch ! this comes of foolish playing, While eke, with fingers light, Commands and precepts disoheying. The young one stole the white. A naughty rogue, no doubt, you are, Between them both, as if by scald, Who thus requite your parents' care. His head was changed from gray to bald. Alas ! their lot I pity much, For these, he said, your gentle pranks, Whom fate condemns to watch o'er such. I owe you, ladies, many thanks. This having coolly said, and more, By being thus well shaved, He pull'd the drowning lad ashore. I less have lost than saved. This story hits more marks than you suppose. Of Hymen, yet, no news at hand, All critics, pedants, men of endless prose, I do assure ye. Three sorts so richly bless'd with progeny, By what I've lost, I understand The house is bless'd that doth not lodge any,— It is in your way, May in it see themselves from head to toes. Not mine, that I must pass on. No matter what the task, Thanks, ladies, for the lesson. Their precious tongues must teach ; Their help in need you ask, You first must hear them preach. XVin.—THE FOX AND THE STORK. Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, To dine old Mistress Stork. The fare was light, was nothing, sooth to say, XX.—THE COCK AND THE PEARL. Requiring knife and fork. That sly old gentleman, the dinner-giver, A cock scratched up, one day, Was, you must understand, a frugal liver. A pearl of purest ray, This once, at least, the total matter Which to a jeweller he bore. Was thinnish soup served on a platter, I think it fine, he said, For madam's slender beak a fruitless puzzle But yet a crumb of bread Till all had pass'd the fox's lapping muzzle. To me were worth a great deal more. But little relishing his laughter, Old gossip Stork, some few days after, So did a dunce inherit Return' d his Foxship's invitation. A manuscript of merit, Without a moment's hesitation, Which to a publisher he bore. He said he'd go, for he must own he 'Tis good, said he, I'm told, Ne'er stood with friends for ceremony. Yet any coin of gold And so, precisely at the hour, To me were worth a great deal more. He hied him to the lady's bower, Where, praising her politeness. He finds her dinner right nice. Its punctuality and plenty, XXL—THE HORNETS AND THE BEES. Its viands, cut in mouthfuls dainty, Its fragrant smell, were powerful to excite, The artist by his work is known. Had there been need, his foxish appetite. A piece of honey-comb one clay, But now the dame, to torture him. Discover'd as a waif and stray, Such wit was in hex*, The hornets treated as their own. Served up her dinner Their title did the bees dispute, In vases made so tall and slim, And brought before a wasp the suit. They let then- owner's beak pass in and out, The judge was puzzled to decide, But not, by any means, the fox's snout ! For nothing could be testified All arts without avail, Save that around this honey-comb With drooping head and tail, There had been seen, as if at home, As ought a fox a fowl had cheated, Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, The hungry guest at last retreated. Much like the bees in wings and features.

Ye knaves, for you is this recital, But what of that ? for marks the same, You'll often meet Dame Stork's requital. The hornets, too, could truly claim.

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Between assertion, and denial, The North sent forth her fiercest child, The wasp, in doubt, proclaim'd new trial Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild. ant-hill swore, The oak, erect, And, hearing what an endured the blow ; Could see no clearer than before. The reed bow'd gracefully and low. What use, I pray, of this expense ? But, gathering up its strength once more, At last exclaim'd a bee of sense. In greater fury than before, We've labour' d months in this affair, The savage blast And now are only where we were. Overthrew, at last,

Meanwhile the honey runs to waste : That proud, old, sky-encircled head, 'Tis time the judge should show some haste. Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead 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. BOOK II. The hornets, flinching on their part, Show that the work transcends their art. I.—AGAINST THE HARD TO SUIT. The wasp at length their title sees, And gives the honey to the bees. Were I a pet of fair Calliope, Would God that suits at law with us I would devote the gifts conferr'd on me To dress in verse old iEsop's lies divine Might all be managed thus ! That we might, in the Turkish mode, For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine. But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, Have simple common sense for code ! They then were short and cheap affairs, I dare not arrogate the magic skill Instead of stretching on like ditches, To ornament these charming stories. Ingulfing in their course all riches,— A bard might brighten up their glories, The parties leaving for their shares, No doubt. I try,—what one more wise must do. The shells (and shells there might be moister) Thus much I have accomplished hitherto ; From which the court has suck'd the oyster. By help of my translation, The beasts hold conversation In French, as ne'er they did before. Indeed, to claim a little more, XXII.—THE OAK AND THE REED. The plants and trees, with smiling features, Are turn'd by me to talking creatures.

The oak one day address'd the reed : Who says that this is not enchanting ? To you ungenerous indeed Ah, say the critics, hear what vaunting Has nature been, my humble friend, From one whose work, all told, no more is With weakness aye obliged to bend. Than half-a-dozen baby stories. The smallest bird that flits in air Would you a theme more credible, my censors, quite too much for you to In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? Is bear ;

The slightest wind that wreathes the lake Then list ! For ten long years the men of Troy, Your ever-trembling head doth shake. By means that only heroes can employ, The while, my towering form Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay, Dares with the mountain top Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, The solar blaze to stop, Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, And wrestle with the storm. Their blood of thousand heroes, all in vain, What seems to you the blast of death, When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, To me is but a zephyr's breath. Of lofty size before their city stood, Beneath my branches had you grown, Whose flanks immense the sage Ulysses hold, That spread far round their friendly bower. Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, Less suffering would your life have known, Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine Defended from the tempest's power. Would bear within the fated town unseen, Unhappily you oftenest show To wreak upon its very gods their rage In open air your slender form, Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. Along the marshes wet and low, Which well its crafty authors did repay .... That fringe the kingdom of the storm. Enough, enough, our critic folks wili say To you declare I must, Your period excites alarm,

Dame Nature seems unjust. Lest you should do your lungs some harm ; Then modestly replied the reed And then your monstrous wooden horse, Your pity, sir, is kind indeed, With squadrons in it at their ease, But wholly needless for my sake. Is even harder to endorse The wildest wind that ever blew Than Renard cheating Raven of his cheese. Is safe to me compared with you. And, more than that, it fits you ill I bend, indeed, but never break. To wield the old heroic quill.

Thus far, I own, the hurricane Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is : beat your sturdy in sigh'd jealous Has back vain ; Long and pined the Amaryllis But wait the end. Just at the word. For her Alcippus, in the sad belief, The tempest's hollow voice was heard. None, save her sheep and dog, would knowher grief

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THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [BOOK II.

Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, And hears the gentle shepherdess's lips III.—THE WOLF ACCUSING- THE FOX BEFORE Beseech the kind and gentle zephyr THE MONKEY. To bear these accents to her lover A wolf, affirming his belief Stop, says my censor : That he had suffer' d a thief, l'o laws of rhyme quite irreducible, by Brought up his neighbour fox— That couplet needs again the crucible ; Of it was all confess'd, Poetic men, sir, whom by His character not the Must nicely shun the shocks was best Of rhymes unorthodox. To fill the prisoner's box- As judge between these vermin, A curse on critics ! hold your tongue ! A monkey graced the ermine Know I not how to end my song ? ; Of time and strength what greater waste And truly other gifts of Themis Did scarcely seem his Than my attempt to suit your taste 1 ; For while each party plead his cause, Appealing boldly the laws, Some men, more nice than wise, to And much the question vex'd, There's nought that satisfies. Our monkey sat perplex'd. Their words and wrath expended, Their strife at length was ended When, by their malice taught, THE RATS. IL—THE COUNCIL HELD BY The judge this judgment brought : Your characters, my friends, I long have known, Old Rodilard, a certain cat, As on this trial clearly shown Such havoc of the rats had made, And hence I fine you both—the grounds at large 'Twas difficult to find a rat To state would little profit With nature's debt unpaid. You wolf, in short, as bringing groundless charge, The few that did remain, You fox, as guilty of it. To leave their holes afraid, Come at it right or wrong, the judge opined From usual food abstain, No other than a villain could be fined. 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. IV.—THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG. Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater,

Who had a wife, went out to meet her ; Two bulls engaged in shocking battle, And Avhile he held his caterwauling, Both for a certain heifer's sake, their chapter calling, The unkilPd rats, And lordship over certain cattle ; Discuss'd the point, in grave debate, A frog began to groan and quake. How they might shun impending fate. But what is this to you ? Their dean, a prudent rat, Inquired another of the croaking crew. Thought best, and better soon than late, Why, sister, don't you see,

To bell the fatal cat ; The end of this will be, That, when he took his hunting round, That one of these big brutes will yield, The rats, well caution'd by the sound, And then be exiled from the field ? Might hide in safety under ground No more permitted on the grass to feed, Indeed he knew no other means. He'll forage, through our marsh, on rush and reed And all the rest And while he eats or chews the cud, At once confess' Will trample on us in the mud.

Their minds were with the dean's. Alas ! to think how frogs must suffer

No better plan, they all believed, By means of this proud lady heifer ! Could possibly have been conceived, This fear was not without good sense. No doubt the thing would work right well, One bull was beat, and much to their expense If any one would hang the bell. For, quick retreating to their reedy bower, But, one by one, said every rat, He trod on twenty of them in an hour. I'm not so big a fool as that. Of little folks it oft has been the fate The plan, knock'd up in this respect, To suffer for the follies of the great. The council closed without effect. And many a council I have seen, Or reverend chapter with its dean, That, thus resolving wisely, V.—THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS. Fell through like this precisely. A blundering bat once stuck her head

To argue or refute Into a wakeful weasel's bed ; counsellors mistress of the house, Wise abound ; Whereat the The man to execute A deadly foe of rats and mice, Is harder to be found. 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,

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Now, after all the provocation The second term expired, the friend had eome I've suffer' d from your thievish nation % To take possession of her house and home. Are you not really a mouse, The bitch, this time, as if she would have bit her. That gnawing pest of every house, Replied, I'm ready, madam, with my litter, Your special aim to do the cheese ill' To go when you can turn me out. Ay, that you are, or I'm no weasel. Her pups, you see, were fierce and stout. I beg your pardon, said the hat My kind is very far from that. The creditor, from whom a villain borrows,

What ! I a mouse ! Who told you such a lie ? Will fewer shillings get again than sorrows. If trusted people this sort, Why, ma'am, I am a bird ; you have of

And, if you doubt my word, You'll have to plead, and dun, and fight ; in short, Just see the wings with which I fly. If in your house you let one step a foot,

Long live the mice that cleave the sky ! He'll surely step the other in to boot. These reasons had so fair a show, The weasel let the creature go. By some strange fancy led The same wise blunderhead, VIII.—THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE. But two or three days later, John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, Had chosen for her rest Was making for his hole in haste, Another weasel's nest, When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow. This last, of birds a special hater. I leave you all to think New peril brought this step absurd : If such a little chink Without a moment's thought or puzzle, Could to rabbit give protection Dame weasel oped her peaked muzzle a thorough. But, since no better could be got, To eat th' intruder as a bird. John Rabbit there was fain to squat. Hold ! do not wrong me, cried the bat Of course, in an asylum so absurd, I'm truly no such thing as that. John felt ere long the talons of the bird. Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers. But first, the beetle, interceding, cried, What makes a bird, I pray 1 Its feathers. Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied, I'm cousin of the mice and rats. That, maugre my protection, you can bear Great Jupiter confound the cats ! My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air. The bat, by such adroit replying, But do not give me such affront, I pray Twice saved herself from dying. ; And since he craves your grace, And many a human stranger In pity of his case, Grant his life, take Thus turns his coat in him or us both away ; danger ; And sings, as suits where'er he goes, For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.

! In vain the beetle's friendly labour God save the king — or save his foes ! ; The eagle clutch 'd her prey without reply, And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, still'd Struck down our orator and him ; VI.—THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW. The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him. The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, A bird, with plumed arrow shot, Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak In dying case deplored her lot Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest.

Alas ! she cried, the anguish of the thought ! And while the bird was gone, This ruin partly by myself was brought ! Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, Hard-hearted men ! from us to borrow Not sparing one. What wings to us the fatal arrow ! Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, But mock us not, ye cruel race, Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky. For you must often take our place. But, by excess of passion blind, Her enemy she fail'd to find. The work of half the human brothers Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate Is making arms against the others. To live a mourning mother, desolate. built loftier The next, she a nest ; 'twas vain ; The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again. VII.—THE BITCH AND HER FRIEND. John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew. The second mourning for her murder'd brood A bitch, that felt her time approaching, Was such, that through the giant mountain wood, And had no place for parturition, For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. Went to a female friend, and, broaching The bird, once Ganymede, now made Her delicate condition, Her prayer to Jupiter for aid ; Got leave herself to shut And, laying them within his godship's lap, Within the other's hut. all She thought her eggs now safe from mishap ; At proper time the lender came The god his own could not but make them Her little premises to claim. No wretch would venture there to break them. The bitch crawl'd meekly to the door, And no one did. Their enemy, this time, And humbly begg'd a fortnight more. Upsoaring to a place sublime, Her little pups, she said, could hardly walk. Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, In short, the lender yielded to her talk. Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt,

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10 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book ir.

Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event X.—THE ASS LOADED WITH SPONGES, ANI Occurr'd by purest accident, THE ASS LOADED WITH SALT. The eagle raved ; there was no reasoning with her : She gave out threats of leaving court, A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer, To make the desert her resort, His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing, And other braveries of this sort. Drove on two coursers of protracted ear, in silence Poor Jupiter heard The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring ; The uproar of his favourite bird. The other lifting legs Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, As if he trod on eggs, And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd. With constant need of goading, The god pronouneed the eagle in the wrong. And bags of salt for loading. But still, their hatred was so old and strong, O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pass'd,

These enemies could not be reconciled ; Till, coming to a river's ford at last, And, that the general peace might not be spoil'd, They stopp'd quite puzzled on the shore. The best that he could do,—the god arranged, Our asseteer had cross'd the stream before ; That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed, So, on the lighter beast astride, To come when beetle folks are only found He drives the other, spite of dread, Conceal'd and dormant under ground. Which, loath indeed to go ahead, Into a deep hole turns aside, And, facing right about, Where in, he went comes out ; IX.—THE LION AND TUE GNAT. For duckings two or three Had power the salt to melt, Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat ! So that the creature felt Thus said the royal lion to the gnat. His burden'd shoulders free. The gnat declared immediate war. The sponger, like a sequent sheep, Think you, said he, your royal name Pursuing through the water deep, To me worth caring for ? Into the same hole plunges Think you I tremble at your power or fame ? Himself, his rider, and the sponges. The ox is bigger far than you ; All three drank deeply : asseteer and ass Yet him I drive, and all his crew. For boon companions of their load might pass This said, as one that did no fear owe, ; Which last became so sore a weight, Himself he blew the battle charge, The ass fell down, Himself both trumpeter and hero. Belike to drown, At first he play'd about at large, His rider risking equal fate. Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, A helper came, no matter who. And there the royal beast full sorely nettled. The moral needs no more ado— With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, That all can't act alike, He roars. All creatures hide or fly,— The point I wish'd to strike. Such mortal terror at The work of one poor gnat With constant change of his attack, The snout now stinging, now the back, XL—THE LION AND THE RAT And now the chambers of the nose ; The pigmy fly no mercy shows. To show- to all your kindness, it behoves : The lion's rage was at its height There's none so small but you his aid may neecL His viewless foe now laugh' d outright, I quote two fables for this weighty creed, When on his battle-ground he saw, Which either of them fully proves. That every savage tooth and claw From underneath the sward Had got its proper beauty A rat, quite off his guard, By doing bloody duty Popp'd out between a lion's paws. Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, The beast of royal bearing And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side. Show'd what a lion was Ah ! bootless blow, and bite, and curse ! The creature's life by sparing He beat the harmless air, and worse ; A kindness well repaid For, though so fierce and stout, ; For, little as you would have thought By effort wearied out, His majesty would ever need his aid, He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel. It proved full soon The gnat retires with verdant laurel. A precious boon. Now rings his trumpet clang Forth issuing from his forest glen, As at the charge it rang. T' explore the haunts of men, But while his triumph note he blows, In lion net his majesty was caught, Straight on our valiant conqueror goes From which his strength and rage A spider's ambuscade to meet, Served not to disengage. And make its web his winding-sheet. The rat ran up, with grateful glee, We often have the most to fear Gnaw'd off a rope, and set him free.

From those we most despise ; Again, great risks a man may clear, By time and toil we sever Who by the smallest dies. What strength and rage could never.

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And all from this we can divine Is, that they need to rise and shine, XII.—THE DOVE AND THE ANT. To roll the seasons, ripen fruits, cheer The same instruction we may get And the hearts of men and brutes. From another couple, smaller yet. How tallies this revolving universe With human things, eternally diverse ? Ye horoscopers, waning quacks, A dove came to a brook to drink, Please turn on Europe's courts your backs, When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, And, taking on your travelling lists An ant fell in, and vainly tried, The bellows-blowing alchemists, In this to her an ocean tide, Budge off together to the land of mists. To reach the land ; whereat the dove, But I've digress'd. Return we With every living thing in love, now, bethinking Of our poor star-man, whom we left a drinking. Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her, Besides the folly of his lying trade, By which the ant regain' d the shore. This man the type may well be made Of those who at chimeras stare A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, When they should mind the things that are. 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, XIV.—THE HARE AND THE FROGS. Would make a soup before the morrow. Just as his deadly bow he drew, Once in his bed deep mused the hare,

Our pismire stung his heel. (What else but muse could he do there ?)

Roused by the villain's squeal, And soon by gloom was much afflicted ; The dove took timely hint,'and flew To gloom the creature's much addicted.

Far from the rascal's coop ; Alas ! these constitutions nervous,

And with her flew his soup. 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, XIII.—THE ASTROLOGER WHO STUMBLED But with some misery it must mingle. — INTO A WELL. Myself, for one, am forced by cursed fear To sleep with open eye as well as ear. To an astrologer who fell Correct yourself, says some adviser. Plump to the bottom of a well, Grows fear, by such advice, the wiser ? Poor blockhead ! cried a passer-by, Indeed, I well enough descry Not see your feet, and read the sky ? That men have fear, as well as I. With such revolving thoughts our This upshot of a story will suffice hare Kept watch in soul-consuming care. To give a useful hint to most A passing shade, or leaflet's quiver For few there are in this our world so wise Would give his blood a boiling fever. As not to trust in star or ghost, Full soon, his melancholy soul Or cherish secretly the creed Aroused from dreaming doze That men the book of destiny may read. By noise too slight for foes, This book, by Homer and his pupils sung, He scuds in haste to reach his hole. What is it, in plain common sense, He pass'd a pond and from its But what was chance those ancient folks among, ; border bogs, Plunge after plunge, in leap'd the timid frogs, And with ourselves, God's providence ? Aha ! I do to them, I see, Now chance doth bid defiance He cried, what others do to me. To every thing like science ; The sight of even me, a hare, 'Twere wrong, if not, Sufficeth some, I find, to scare. To call it hazard, fortune, lot And here, the terror of Things palpably uncertain. my tramp Hath put to rout, it seems, But from the purposes divine, a camp.

The trembling fools ! they take The deep of infinite design, me for The very thunderbolt of war ! Who boasts to lift the curtain ? I see, the coward never skulk'd Whom but himself doth God allow a foe That might not scare a coward still below. 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 XV.—THE COCK AND THE FOX. Of those who on astrology have writ ?

To help us shun inevitable ills ? Upon a tree there mounted guard To poison for us even pleasure's rills ? A veteran cock, adroit and cunning, The choicest blessings to destroy, When to the roots a fox up running.

Exhausting, ere they come, their Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard : — joy ? is 's at Such faith worse than error 'tis a crime. Our quarrel, brother, an end ; The sky-host moves and marks the course Henceforth I hope to live your friend of time ; The sun sheds on our nicely-measured days For peace now reigns The glory of his night-dispelling rays the animal ; Throughout domains.

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I bear the news : —come down, I pray, give me the embrace fraternal And ; XVII.—THE PEACOCK COMPLAINING TO JUNO. And please, my brother, don't delay. So much the tidings do concern all, The peacock to the queen of heaven

That I must spread them far to-day. Complain'd in some such words : Now you and yours can take your walks Great goddess, you have given Without a fear or thought of hawks. To me, the laughing-stock of birds, And should you clash with them or others, A voice which fills, by taste quite just,

In us you'll find the best of brothers ; All nature with disgust ; For which you may, this joyful night, Whereas that little paltry thing, Your merry bonfires light. The nightingale, pours from her throat But, first, let's seal the bliss So sweet and ravishing a note, With one fraternal kiss. She bears alone the honours of the spring. Good friend, the cock replied, upon my word, In anger Juno heard, A better thing I never heard ;

And doubly I rejoice And cried, Shame on you, jealous bird ! Grudge you the nightingale her voice, To hear it from your voice ; And, really there must be something in it, Who in the rainbow neck rejoice, For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter Than costliest silks more richly tinted, Myself are couriers on this very matter. In charms of grace and form unstinted, They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. Who strut in kingly pride, I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing Your glorious tail spread wide With general kissing and caressing. With brilliants which in sheen do Outshine the jeweller's bow window ? Adieu, said fox ; my errand 's pressing ; I'll hurry on my way, Is there a bird beneath the blue And we'll rejoice some other day. That has more charms than you \ So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, No animal in everything can shine. To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, By just partition of our gifts divine, has its full proper share Less happy in his stratagem than flight. Each and ; the birds that cleave the air, The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve ; Among "Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive. The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave on?, For omens serves the hoarse old raven, ills The rook 's of coming the prophet ; And if there 's any discontent, XVI.—THE RAVEN WISHING TO IMITATE I've heard not of it. THE EAGLE. Cease, then, your envious complaint The bird of Jove bore off a mutton, Or I, instead of making up your lack, A raven being witness. Will take your boasted plumage from your baclc. That weaker bird, but equal glutton, Not doubting of his fitness To do the same with ease, And bent his taste to please, XVIII.—THE CAT METAMORPHOSED INTO Took round the flock his sweep, WOMAN. And mark'd among the sheep, The one of fairest flesh and size, A bachelor caress'd his cat,

A real sheep of sacrifice A darling, fair, and delicate ; A dainty titbit bestial, So deep in love, he thought her mew Reserved for mouth celestial. The sweetest voice he ever knew. Our gormand, gloating round, By prayers, and tears, and magic art, Cried, Sheep, I wonder much The man got Fate to take his part

Who could have made you such. And, lo ! one morning at his side his bride* You're far the fattest I have found ; His cat, transform'd, became I'll take you for my eating. In wedded state our man was seen And on the creature bleating The fool in courtship he had been. He settled down. Now, sooth to say, No lover e'er was so bewitch'd This sheep would weigh By any maiden's charms this so enrich'd More than a cheese ; As was husband, And had a fleece By hers within his arms. Much like that matting famous He praised her beauties, this and that, nothing of the cat. Which graced the chin of Polyphemus ; And saw there So fast it clung to every claw, In short, by passion's aid, he It was not easy to withdraw. Thought her a perfect lady. The shepherd came, caught, caged, and, to their joy,

Gave croaker to his children for a toy. 'Twas night : some carpet-gnawing mice Disturb'd the nuptial joys. Ill the noise, plays the pilferer, the bigger thief ; Excited by One's self one ought to know ;—in brief, The bride sprang at them in a trice mice Avere scared and fled. Example is a dangerous lure ; The Death strikes the gnat, where flies the Avasp secure. The bride, scarce in her bed,

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aoox ii.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 13

The gnawing heard, and sprang again, The sire, expectant of his fate, And this time not in vain, Bequeathed his whole estate, For, in this novel form array' d, In equal shares, to them, Of her the mice were less afraid. And to their mother just the same, Through life she loved this mousing course, To her then payable, and not before, So great is stubborn nature's force. Each daughter should possess her part no more. The father died. The females three In mockery of change, the old Were much in haste the will to see. Will keep their youthful bent. They read and read, but still When once the cloth has got its fold, Saw not the willer's will. The smelling-pot its scent, For could it well be understood In vain your efforts and your care That each of this sweet sisterhood, To make them other than they are. When she possess'd her part no more,

To work reform, do what you will, Should to her mother pay it o'er ? Old habit will be habit still. 'Twas surely not so easy saying Nor fork* nor strap can mend its manners, How lack of means would help the paying.

Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners. What meant their honour'd father, then % Secure the doors against the renter, Th' affair was brought to legal men, And through ihe windows it will enter. Who, after turning o'er the case Some hundred thousand different ways, Threw down the learned bonnet, XIX.—THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING. Unable to decide upon it And then advised the heirs, The king of animals, with royal grace, Without more thought, t' adjust affairs. Would celebrate his birthday in the chase. As to the widow's share, the counsel say, 'Twas not with bow and arrows We hold it just the daughters each should pay One third to her upon demand, To slay some wretched sparrows ; The lion hunts the wild boar of the wood, Should she not choose to have it stand The antlered deer and stags, the fat and good. Commuted as a life annuity,

This time, the king, t' insure success, Paid from her husband's death, with due congruity Took for his aide-de-camp an ass, The thing thus order'd, the estate A creature of stentorian voice, Is duly cut in portions three. That felt much honour'd by the choice. And in the first they all agree The lion hid him in a proper station, To put the feasting-lodges, plate, And order'd him to bray, for his vocation, Luxurious cooling mugs, Assured that his tempestuous cry Enormous liquor jugs, The boldest beasts would terrify, Rich cupboards,—built beneath the trellised vine,— And cause them from their lairs to fly. The stores of ancient, sweet Malvoisian wine, slaves serve it sign And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made The to at a ; strike of In short, whatever, in a great house, Did the tenants the wood with dread ; And, as they headlong fled, There is of feasting apparatus. All fell within the lion's ambuscade. The second part is made Has not my service glorious Of what might help the jilting trade city house and furniture, Made both of us victorious 1 The Cried out the much-elated ass. Exquisite and genteel, be sure, The eunuchs, milliners, and laces, Yes, said the lion ; bravely bray'd ! Had I not known yourself and race, The jewels, shawls, and costly dresses. The third is made of household stuff, I should have been myself afraid ! If he had dared, the donkey More vulgar, rude, and rough Had shown himself right spunky Farms, fences, flocks, and fodder, this retort, And men and beasts to turn the sod o'er. At though justly made ; For who could suffer boasts to pass This done, since it was thought give parts lot So ill-befittinsr to an ass \ To the by Might suit, or it might not, Each paid her share of fees dear And took the part that pleased her. XX.—THE WILL EXPLAINED BY .ESOP. 'Twas in great Athens town, Such judgment gave the gown. If what old story says of iEsop 's true, And there the public voice The oracle of Greece he was, Applauded both the judgment and the choice. And more than Areopagus he knew, But ^Esop well was satisfied With all its wisdom in the laws. The learned men had set aside, The following tale gives but a sample In judging thus the testament, what has his so ample. Of made fame The very gist of its intent. Three daughters shared a father's purse, The dead, quoth he, could he but know of it, Of habits totally diverse. Would heap reproaches on such Attic wit. The first, bewitch'd with drinks delicious ; What ! men who proudly take their place The next, coquettish and capricious ; As sages of the human race, The third, supremely avaricious. Lack they the simple skill * Naturam expellas furca, tainen usque recurret Hor. To settle such a will ?

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This said, he undertook himself What farce is this to split good people's sides I

'The task of portioning the pelf The most an ass is not the one that rides ! And straightway gave each maid the part The miller, much enlighten'd by this talk, The least according to her heart Untied his precious beast, and made him walk. The prim coquette, the drinking stuff, The ass, who liked the other mode of travel, Bray'd some complaint at trudging The drinker, then, the farms and cattle ; on the gravel And on the miser, rude and rough, Whereat, not understanding well the beast, The miller caused his hopeful son to ride, The robes and lace did ^Esop settle ; For thus, he said, an early date And walk'd behind, without a spark of pride. Would see the sisters alienate Three merchants pass'd, and, mightily displeased, Their several shares of the estate. The eldest of these gentlemen cried out,

No motive now in maidenhood to tarry, Ho there ! dismount, for shame, you lubber lout, Nor make a foot- boy of your grey-beard sire They all would seek, post haste, to marry ; ; And, having each a splendid bait, Change places, as the rights of age require. To please you, sirs, the miller said, I ought. Each soon would find a well-bred mate ; And, leaving thus their father's goods intact, So down the young and up the old man got. Would to their mother pay them all, in fact, Three girls next passing, What a shame, says one, Which of the testament That boy should be obliged on foot to run, Was plainly the intent. While that old chap, upon his ass astride, Should play the calf, and like The people, who had thought a slave an ass, a bishop ride ! Much wonder' d how it came to pass Please save your wit, the miller made reply, That one alone should have more sense Tough veal, my girls, the calf as old as I. Than all their men of most pretence. 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. BOOK III. Is tins, indeed, the mercy which these rustics

Show to their honest, faithful, old domestics ? I.—THE MILLER, HIS SON, AND THE ASS. If to the fair these lazy fellows ride,

TO M. DE MAUCROIX. 'Twill be to sell thereat the donkey's hide !

Zounds ! cried the miller, precious little brains Because the arts are plainly birthright matters, Hath he who takes, to please the world, such pains

For fables we to ancient Greece are debtors ; But since we're in, we'll try what can be done. But still this field could not be reap'd so clean So off the ass they jump'd, himself and son, As not to let us, later comers, glean. And, like a prelate, donkey march'd alone. The fiction-world hath deserts yet to dare, Another man they met. These folks, said he, And, daily, authors make discoveries there. Enslave themselves to let their ass go free

I'd fain repeat one which our man of song, The darling brute ! If I might be so bold, Old Malherbe, told one day to young Racan. I'd counsel them to have him set in gold. Of Horace they the rivals and the heirs, Not so went Nicholas his Jane to woo, Apollo's pets,—my masters, I should say, Who rode, we sing, his ass to save his shoe.

Sole by themselves were met, I'm told, one day, Ass ! ass ! our man replied ; we're asses three ! Confiding each to each their thoughts and cares. I do avow myself an ass to be Racan begins : —Pray end my inward strife, But since my sage advisers can't agree,

For Avell you know, my friend, what's what in life, Their words henceforth shall not be heeded : Who through its varied course, from stage to stage, I'll suit myself. And he succeeded.

Have stored the full experience of age ; shall ? 'Tis I chose profession. What I do time For you, choose army, love, or court ; You know my fortune, birth, and disposition. In town, or country, make resort

Ought I to make the country my resort, wife, or cowl ; ride you, walk Take or ; Or seek the army, or to rise at court ? Doubt not but tongues will have their talk.

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. 1L—THE MEMBERS AND THE BELLY Content a world ! old Malherbe cries ; who can, sir ? Why, let me tell a story ere I answer. Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, A miller and his son, I've somewhere read, This book would have begun with royalty, certain points of view, The first in years, the other but a lad, Of which, in Belly is the image true, A fine, smart boy, however, I should say, Boss* In bereavements all the members share To sell their ass went to a fair one day. whose ; In order there to get the highest price, Of whom the latter once so weary were, They needs must keep their donkey fresh and nice ; * A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to So, tying fast his feet, they swung him clear, bosseman, lexicographers ; qu. derived from the French And bore him hanging like a chandelier. or the English boatswain, pronounced bos'n ? It denotes a

Alas ! poor, simple-minded country fellows ! '•master" of some practical "art." Master Belly, says The first that sees their load, loud laughing, bellows, Rabelais, was the first Master of Arts in the world.—Trans.

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As all due service to forbear, His crook in upraised feet, On what they called his idle plan The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. Resolved to play the gentleman, The real Willie, on the grass asleep, And let his lordship live on air. Slept there, indeed, profoundly, said they, dog Like burden-beasts, His and pipe slept, also soundly ;

We sweat from day to day ; His drowsy sheep around lay. And all for whom, and what I As for the greatest number, Ourselves we profit not. Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, Our labour has no object but one, And hoped to drive away the flock, That is, to feed this lazy glutton. Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. We'll learn the resting trade He thought undoubtedly he could.

By his example's aid. He tried : the tone in which he spoke,

So said, so done ; all labour ceased ; Loud echoing from the wood,

The hands refused to grasp, the arms to strike ; The plot and slumber broke ; All other members did the like. Sheep, dog, and man awoke.

Their boss might labour if he pleased ! The wolf, in sorry plight. It was an error which they soon repented, In hampering coat bedight, With pain of languid poverty acquainted. Could neither run nor fight. The heart no more the blood renew'd, There's always leakage of deceit And hence repair no more accrued Which makes it never safe to cheat. To ever-wasting strength ; Whoever is a wolf had better Whereby the mutineers, at length, Keep clear of hypocritic fetter. Saw that the idle belly, in its way, Did more for common benefit than they.

For royalty our fable makes, IV.—THE FROGS ASKING A KING. A thing that gives as well as takes. Its power all labour to sustain, A certain commonwealth aquatic, Nor for themselves turns out their labour vain. Grown tired of order democratic, gives the artist bread, the merchant riches It ; By clamouring in the ears of Jove, effected the diggers in their ditches Maintains ; Its being to a monarch's power subjected. Pays of war and magistrate man ; Jove flung it down, at first, a king pacific. in place, Supports the swarms Who nathless fell with such a splash terrific, live on sovereign grace That ; The marshy folks, a foolish race and timid, the state. In short, is caterer for Made breathless haste to get from him hid. Menenius told the story well, They dived into the mud beneath the water, Or found among the reeds and rushes quarter. When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, The commons parting from the senate. And long it was they dared not see The dreadful face of majesty, The ills, said they, that we complain at Supposing that some monstrous frog Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity. Had been sent down to rule the bog. Belong to them alone ; while we Get nought our labour for The king was really a log, gravity inspired with But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war. Whose awe Without the walls the people had their stand The first that, from his hiding-place? Forth venturing, astonish'd, saw Prepared to march in search of other land, royal blockhead's face. When by this noted fable The Menenius was able With trembling and with fear, To draw them, hungry, home At last he drew quite near. follow'd, another yet, To duty and to Rome*. Another and Till quite a crowd at last were met Who, growing fast and strangely bolder, Perch' d soon upon the royal shoulder. III.—THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD. His gracious majesty kept still, And let his people work their will. A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks Clack, clack ! what din beset the ears of Jove ? Began to be but few, We want a king, the people said, to move ! Bethought himself to play the fox The god straight sent them down a crane, character quite new. In Who caught and slew them without measure. shepherd's hat and coat he took, A And gulp'd their carcasses at pleasure cudgel for a crook, ; A Whereat the frogs more wofully complain. Nor e'en the pipe forgot What ! what ! great Jupiter replied ; And more to seem what he was not, By your desires must I be tied I Himself upon his hat he wrote, Think you such government is bad ? I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep. You should have kept what first you had His person thus complete, ; Which having blindly fail'd to do, * According to our republican notions of government, It had been prudent still for you these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the To let that former king suffice, fable finds a more appropriate application in the relation More meek and mild, if not so wise. of employer to employed. I leave the fabulists and the With this now make yourselves content, political economists to settle the question between them. Lest for your sins a worse be sent. —TRANSLATOR.

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16 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [BOCK III.

Your pigs should you but leave a minute, -THE FOX AND THE GOAT. This eagle here will seize them in it. A fox once joumey'd, and for company Speak not of this, I beg, at all,

A certain bearded, horned goat had he ; Lest on my head her wrath should Which goat no further than his nose could see. Another breast with fear inspired, The fox was deeply versed in trickery. With fiendish joy the cat retired. These travellers did thirst compel The eagle ventured no egress To seek the bottom of a well. To feed her youn?, the sow still less. There, having drunk enough for two, Fools they, to think that any curse

Says fox, My friend, what shall we do ? Than ghastly famine could be worse ! 'Tis time that we were thinking Both staid at home, resolved and obstinate, Of something else than drinking. To save their young ones from impending fate, Raise you your feet upon the wall, The royal bird for fear of mine, And stick your horns up straight and tall For fear of royal claws the swine. Then up your back I'll climb with ease, All died, at length, with hunger,

And draw you after, if you please. The older and the younger ; Yes, by my beard, the other said, There staid, of eagle race or boar,

; 'Tis just the thing. I like a head Not one this side of death's dread dour — , Well stock'd with sense, like thine. A sad misfortune, which Had it been left to mine, The wicked cats made rich. I do confess, 0, what is there of hellish plot

I never should have thought of this. The treacherous tongue dares not ! So Renard clamber'd out, Of all the ills Pandora's box outpour'd, And, leaving there the goat, Deceit, I think, is most to be abhorr'd. Discharged his obligations By preaching thus on patience : Had Heaven put sense thy head within, To match the beard upon thy chin, VII.—THE DRUNKARD AND HIS WIFE. Thou wouldst have thought a bit, Before descending such a pit. Each has his fault, to which he clings it spite I'm out of ; good bye : In of shame or fear. With prudent effort try This apophthegm a story brings, Yourself to extricate. To make its truth more clear. health, For me, affairs of state A sot had lost mind, and purse ; Permit me not to wait. And, truly, for that matter, mostly lose the latter Whatever way you wend, Sots Ere running half their course. Consider well the end. When wine, one day, of wit had fill'd the room, His wife inclosed him in a spacious tomb. There did the fumes evaporate VI.- -TnE EAGLE, THE WILD SOW, AND At leisure from his drowsy pate. THE CAT. When he awoke, he found His wrapp'd A certain hollow tree body around With grave-clothes, chill and damp, Was tenanted by three. Beneath a dim sepulchral lam}). An eagle held a lofty bough, 's this ? wife a widow sad ? The hollow root a wild wood sow, How My cried, and I a ghost ? Dead ? dead ? A female cat between the two. He Thereat his spouse, with snaky hair, Ail busy with maternal labours, robes like those the Furies They lived awhile obliging neighbours. And wear. With voice to fit the realms belcw, At last the cat's deceitful tongue Brought boiling caudle to his bier— Broke up the peace of old and young. For Lucifer the proper cheer Up climbing to the eagle's nest, ; By which her husband came to know She said, with whisker'd lips compress'd, For he had heard of those three ladies— Our death, or, what as much we mothers fear, Himself a citizen of Hades. That of our helpless offspring dear, your office be ? Is surely drawing near. What may The phantom question'd he. Beneath our feet, see you not how I'm server up of Pluto's meat, Destruction's plotted by the sow ? And bring his guests the same to eat. Her constant digging, soon or late, Well, says the sot, not taking time to think, Our proud old castle will uproot. And don't you bring us anything to drink i And then— 0, 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. Tin.—THE GOUT AND THE SPIDER. Thus leaving apprehensions hideous, Down went perfidious the puss When Nature angrily turn'd out To where the sow, longer digging, no Those plagues, the spider and the gout, Was in the very act of pigging. See you, said she, those huts so meanly built, Good friend and neighbour, whisper'd she These palaces so grand and richly gilt ? I warn you on your guard to be.

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By mutual agreement fix Your fee ! replied the wolf, In accents rather gruff Your choice of dwellings ; or if not, To end th' affair by lot, And is it not enough Draw out these little sticks. Your neck is safe from such a gulf ? Go, for a wretch ingrate, The huts are not for me, the spider cried ; And not for me the palace, cried the gout Nor tempt again your fate ! For there a sort of men she spied Call'd doctors, going in and out, i From whom she could not hope for ease. So hied her to the huts the fell disease, X.—THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN. And, fastening on a poor man's toe, Hoped there to fatten on his woe, A picture once was shown, And torture him, fit after fit, In which one man, alone, Without a summons e'er to quit, Upon the ground had thrown From old Hippocrates. A lion fully grown. The spider, on the lofty ceiling, Much gloried at the sight the rabble.

As if she had a life-lease feeling, A lion thus rebuked their babble : Wove wide her cunning toils, That you have got the victory there, Soon rich with insect spoils. There is no contradiction. A maid destroy'd them as she swept the But, gentles, possibly you are

room : The dupes of easy fiction: Bepair'd, again they felt the fatal broom. Had we the art of making pictures,

The wretched creature, every day, Perhaps our champion had beat yours ! 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, XL—THE FOX AND THE GRAPES. Quite starved : more evils did betide her Than e'er befel the poorest spider A fox, almost with hunger dying, Her toiling host enslaved her so, Some grapes upon a trellis spying,

And made her chop, and dig, and hoe ! To all appearance ripe, clad in (Says one, Kept brisk and busy, Their tempting russet skin, The gout is made half easy.) gladly would have eat Most them ; 0, when, exclaim'd the sad disease, But since he could not get them, Will this my misery stop ? So far above his reach the vine, sister spider, if 0, you please, They 're sour, he said ; such grapes as these,

Our places let us swop. The dogs may eat them if they please I The spider gladly heard,

And took her at her word, Did he not better than to whine ? And fiourish'd in the cabin-lodge, Not forced the tidy broom to dodge. The gout, selecting her abode With an ecclesiastic judge, XH.—THE SWAN AND THE COOK. Turn'd judge herself, and, by her code, He from his couch no more could budge. The pleasures of a poultry yard The salves and cataplasms Heaven knows, Were by a swan and gosling shared. That mock'd the misery of his toes ; The swan was kept there for his looks, While aye, without a blush, the curse, The thrifty gosling for the cooks Kept driving onward worse and worse. ; The first the garden's pride, the latter Needless to say, the sisterhood A greater favourite on the platter. Thought their exchange both wise and good. They swam the ditches, side by side, And oft in sports aquatic vied, splashing far wide, , « Plunging, and With rivalry ne'er satisfied. One day the cook, named Thirsty John, IX.—THE WOLF AND THE STORK. Sent for the gosling, took the swan, In haste his throat to cut, The wolves are prone to play the glutton. And put him in the pot. One, at a certain feast, 'tis said, The bird's complaint resounded

So stuff'd himself with lamb and mutton, In glorious melody ; He seem'd but little short of dead. Whereat the cook, astounded Deep in his throat a bone stuck fast. His sad mistake to see,

Well for this wolf, who could not speak, Cried, What ! make soup of a musician ! That soon a stork quite near him pass'd. Please God, I'll never set such dish on.

By signs invited, with her beak No, no ; I'll never cut a throat The bone she drew That sings so sweet a note. With slight ado, And for this skilful surgery 'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, Demanded, modestly, her fee. Sweet words will never harm us.

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16 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book III,

My sister, Progne said, how do you do ? XHL—THE WOLVES AND THE SHEEP. "lis now a thousand years since you conceal'd Have been from human view ; By-goxe a thousand years of war, I'm sure I have not seen your face The wearers of the fleece Once since the times of Thrace. at last peace And wolves made ; Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat ? J the better for Which both appear d ; Where could I find, said Philomel, so sweet ? For if the wolves had now and then What ! sweet % cried Progne—sweet to waste Eat up a straggling ewe or wether, Such tones on beasts devoid of taste, As often had the shepherd men Or on some rustic, at the most wolf-skins into leather. Turn'd Should you by deserts be engross'd ? Fear always spoil'd the verdant herbage, Come, be the city's pride and boast. And so it did the bloody carnage. Besides, the woods remind of harms Hence peace was sweet ; and, lest it should be riven, That Tereus in them did your charms. sides hostages were given. On both Alas ! replied the bird of song, The sheep, as by the terms arranged, The thought of that so cruel wrong of wolves their dogs exchanged For pups ; Makes me, from age to age, Which being done above suspicion, Prefer this hermitage ; Confirm'd and seal'd by high commission, For nothing like the sight of men What time the pups were fully grown, Can call up what I suffer'd then. And felt an appetite for prey, And saw the sheepfold left alone, The shepherds all away, They seized the fattest lambs they could, XVI.—THE WOMAN DROWNED. to the And, choking, dragg'd them wood ; Of which, by secret means apprised, I hate that saying, old and savage, Their sires, as is surmised, " 'Tis nothing but a woman drowning." Fell on the hostage guardians of the sheep, That's much, I say. What grief more keen And slew them all asleep. should have edge So quick the deed of perfidy was done, Than loss of her, of all our joys the crowning? There fled to tell the tale not one ! Thus much suggests the fable I am borrowing. A woman perish'd in the water, From which we may conclude Where, anxiously, and sorrowing, That peace with villains will be rued. Her husband sought her, Peace in itself, 'tis true, To ease the grief he could not cure, sepulture. May be a good for you ; By honour'd rites of But 'tis an evil, nathless, It chanced that near the fatal spot, When enemies are faithless. 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. XIV.—THE LION GROWN OLD. One promptly answer'd, No !

But search the stream below : A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane It must haA-e borne her in its flow. Of might once dreaded through his wild domain, No, said another ; search above. Was mock'd, at last, upon his throne, In that direction By subjects of his own, She would have floated, by the love Strong through his weakness grown. Of contradiction. The horse his head saluted with a kick ; This joke was truly out of season ;— The wolf snapp'd at his royal hide ; I don't propose to weigh its reason. The ox, too, gored him in the side ; But whether such propensity The unhappy lion, sad and sick, The sex's fault may be, Could hardly growl, he was so weak. Or not, one thing is very sure, In uncomplaining, stoic pride, Its own propensities endure. He waited for the hour of fate, Up to the end they'll have their will, Until the ass approach'd his gate ; And, if it could be, further still. Whereat, This is too much, he saith ; I willingly would yield my breath ;

But, ah ! thy kick is double death ! XVII.—THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.

A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, (She was recovering from disease,) XV.-PHLLOMEL AND PROGNE. Which led her to a farmer's hoard. There lodged, her wasted form she cherish 'd; From home and city spires, one day, Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored The swallow Progne flew away, That by her gnawing perish'd And sought the bosky dell Of which the consequence Where sang poor Philomel. Was sudden corpulence.

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A week or so was past, His threat as good as prophecy fast, When having fully broken Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly ; A noise she heard, and hurried For, putting on a mealy robe, To find the hole by which she came, He squatted in an open tub, his ; And seem'd 'to find it not the same ; And held purring and his breath

So round she ran, most sadly flurried Out came the vermin to their death. • And, coming back, thrust out her head, On this occasion, one old stager, Which, sticking there, she said, A rat as grey as any badger,

This is the hole, there can't be blunder : Who had in battle lost his tail,

What makes it now so small, I wonder, Abstained from smelling at the meal ;

Where, but the other day, I pass'd with ease ? And cried, far off, Ah ! General Cat, A rat her trouble sees, I much suspect a heap like that is And cries, But with an emptier belly ; Your meal not the thing, perhaps, You enter' d lean, and lean must sally. For one who knows somewhat of traps What I have said to you Should you a sack of meal become, Has eke been said to not a few, I'd let you be, and stay at home. Who, in a vast variety of cases, Have ventured into such-like places. Well said, I think, and prudently, By one who knew distrust to be — The parent of security.

XVIII.—THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT.

A story-writer of our sort Historifies, in short, Of one that be reckon'd may BOOK IV. A Rodilard the Second,^ The Alexander of the cats, I—THE LION IN LOVE. The Attila, the scourge of rats, Whose fierce and whisker'd head TO MADEMOISELLE DE Se'vIGNe'. Among the latter spread, , A league around, its dread Sevigne, type of every grace Who seem'd, indeed, determined In female form and face, The world should be unvermined. In your regardlessness of men, The planks with props more false than slim, Can you show favour when The tempting heaps of poison'd meal, The sportive fable craves your ear, The traps of wire and traps of steel, And see, unmoved by fear, Were only play compared with him. A lion's haughty heart

At length, so sadly were they scared, Thrust through by Love's audacious dart ?

The rats and mice no longer dared Strange conqueror, Love ! And happy he, To show their thievish faces And strangely privileged and free, Outside their hiding-places, Who only knows by story

Thus shunning all pursuit ; whereat Him and his feats of glory ! Our crafty General Cat If on this subject you are wont Contrived to hang himself, as dead, To think the simple truth too blunt,

Beside the wall with" downward head, The fabulous may less affront ; Resisting gravitation's laws Which now, inspired with gratitude, By clinging with his hinder claws Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, To some small bit of string. Doth venture to intrude The rats esteem'd the thing Within your maiden solitude, A judgment for some naughty deed, And kneel, your humble servant. Some thievish snatch, In times when animals were speakers, Or ugly scratch Among the quadrupedal seekers And thought their foe had got his meed Of our alliance By being hung indeed. There came the lions.

With hope elated all And wherefore not ? for then Of laughing at his funeral, They yielded not to men

They thrust their noses out in air ; In point of courage or of sense,

And now to show their heads they dare ; Nor were in looks without pretence.

. Now dodging back, now venturing more ; A high-born lion, on his way At last upon the larder's store Across a meadow, met one day They fall to filching, as of yore. A shepherdess, who charm'd him so, A scanty feast enjoy'd these shallows That, as such matters ought to go, ; Down dropp'd the hung one from his gallows, He sought the maiden for his bride. And of the hindmost caught. Her sire, it cannot be denied, Some other tricks to me are known, Had much preferr'd a son-in-law Said he, while tearing bone from bone, Of less terrific mouth and paw. By long experience taught It was not easy to decide The point is settled, free from doubt, The lion might the gift abuse That from your holes you shall come out. 'Twas not quite prudent to refuse.

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And if refusal there should be, That one should be content with his condition, Perhaps a marriage one would see, And shut his ears to counsels of ambition, Some morning, made clandestinely. More faithless than the wreck -strown sea, and For, over and above which The fact that she could bear Doth thousands beggar where it makes one With none but males of martial air, rich, The lady was in love Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms, With him of shaggy hair. And blasts the same with piracy and storms. Her sire, much wanting cover To send away the lover, Thus spoke : —My daughter, sir, Is delicate. I fear to her Your fond caressings III.—THE FLY AND THE ANT. Will prove rough blessings To banish all alarm About such sort of harm, A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, Permit us to remove the cause, Discuss' d the question of their rank. By filing off your teeth and claws. Jupiter ! the former said, In such a case, your royal kiss Can love of self so turn the head, Will be to her a safer bliss, That one so mean and crawling, And of so low a calling, And to yourself a sweeter ; boast equality shall dare Since she Avill more respond To To those endearments fond With me, the daughter of the air ? With which you greet her. In palaces I am a guest, The lion gave consent at once, And even at thy glorious feast. Whene'er the people that adore thee By love so great a dunce ! Without a tooth or claw now view him May immolate for thee a bullock, A fort with cannon spiked. I'm sure to taste the meat before thee. The dogs, let loose upon him, slew him, Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock, All biting safely where they liked. Is living on some bit of straw Which she has labour'd home to draw. But tell me now, my little thing, 0, tyrant Love ! when held by you, Do you camp ever on a king, We may to prudence bid adieu. An emperor, or lady ? 1 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 II.-THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA. To make a case about your grain.

Well, have you done ? replied the ant. A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, You enter palaces, I grant, Lived with his flock contentedly. And for it get right soundly cursed. His fortune, though but small, Of sacrifices, rich and fat, Was safe within his call. Your taste, quite likely, is the first ;— At last some stranded kegs of gold Are they the better off for that % Him tempted, and his flock he sold, You' enter with the holy train ; Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves So enters many a wretch profane. Bore all his treasure —to its caves. asses On heads of kings and you may squat \ Brought back to keeping sheep once more, Deny your vaunting—I will not ; But not chief shepherd, as before, But well such impudence, I know, When sheep were his tbat grazed the shore, Provokes a sometimes fatal blow. He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis, The name in which your vanity delights Might once have shone in pastoral verses, Is own'd as well by parasites, Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre, And spies that die by ropes—as you soon will Was nothing now but Peter. By famine or by ague-chill, But time and toil redeem'd in full When Phoebus goes to cheer Those harmless creatures rich in wool The other hemisphere, And as the lulling winds, one day, The very time to me most dear. The vessels wafted with a gentle motion, Not forced abroad to go Want you, he cried, more money, Madam Ocean? Through wind, and rain, and snow, Address yourself to some one else, I pray My summer's work I then enjoy, You shall not get it out of me ! And happily my mind employ, I know too well your treachery. From care by care exempted. By which this truth I leave to you, This tale 's no fiction, but a fact, That by two sorts of glory we are tempted, Which, by experience back'd, The false one and the true.

: Proves that a single penny, Work waits, time flies ; adieu At present held, and certain, This gabble does not fill Is worth five times as many My granary or till. Of Hope's beyond the curtain ;

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J300K IV.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 21

Scarce suffer'd the gard'ner his patience to wince, Consoling himself— 'T was the sport of a prince IV.—THE GARDENER AND HIS LORD. ; While bipeds and quadrupeds served to devour, A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, And trample, and waste, in the space of an hour, small Far more than a nation of foraging hares Possess'd a nice garden heside a town ; And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed, Could possibly do in a hundred of years. Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed, Small princes, this story is true. A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme, When told in relation to you. Grew gaily, and all in their prime In settling your quarrels with kings for your toois, To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet, You prove yourselves losers and eminent fools. 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 V.—THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.

This tale to the lord of the town : Some mischievous animal, morning and night, One's native talent from its course Cannot be turned aside by force In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite. ; He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and But poorly apes the country clown snares The polish'd manners of the town. For clubbing and stoning as little he cares. Their Maker chooses but a few With power of pleasing to imbue I think him a wizard. A wizard ! the coot ; Where wisely leave it we, the mass, I'd catch him if he were a devil to boot ! The lord said, in haste to have sport for his hounds, Unlike a certain fabled ass, That thought to gain his master's blessing I'll clear him, I warrant you, out of your grounds ; To-morrow I'll do it without any fail. By jumping on him and caressing.

What ! said the donkey in his heart The thing thus agreed on, all hearty and hale, Ought it to be that puppy's part The lord and his party, at crack of the dawn, To lead his useless life With hounds at their heels canter'd over the lawn. In full companionship Arrived, said the lord in his jovial mood, With master and his wife, We'll breakfast with you, if your chickens are good. While I must bear the whip ? What doth the cur a kiss to draw 1 That lass, my good man, I suppose is your daughter : No news of a son-in-law ? Any one sought her ? Forsooth, he only gives his paw ! No doubt, by the score. Keep an eye on the docket, If that is all there needs to please, I'll Eh ? Dost understand me ? I speak of the pocket. do the thing myself, with ease. So saying, the daughter he graciously greeted, Possess'd with this bright notion,— His master sitting on his chair, And close by his lordship he bade her be seated ; Avow'd himself pleased with so handsome a maid, At leisure in the open air, And then with her kerchief familiarly play'd, He ambled up, with awkward motion, Impertinent freedoms the virtuous fair And put his talents to the proof Repell'd with a modest and lady-like air, Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof, So much that her father a little suspected And, with an amiable mien, The girl had already a lover elected. His master patted on the chin, Meanwhile in the kitchen what bustling and cooking The action gracing with a word For what are your hams? They are very good looking. The fondest bray that e'er was heard ! They're kept for your lordship. I takethem,said he O, such caressing was there ever ? Such elegant flitches are welcome to me. Or melody with such a quaver ? He breakfasted finely ;—his troop, with delight, Ho ! Martin ! here ! a club, a club bring Dogs, horses, and grooms of the best appetite. Out cried the master, sore offended. Thus he govern'd his host in the shape of a guest, So Martin gave the ass a drubbing, Unbottled his wine, and his daughter caress'd. And so the comedy was ended. To breakfast, the huddle of hunters succeeds, The yelping of dogs and the neighing of steeds, All cheering and fixing for wonderful deeds ; VL-THE BATTLE OF THE RATS AND THE the bugles make thundering din The horns and WEASELS. Much wonders our gardener what it can mean. The worst is, his garden most wofully fares ; The weasels live, no more than cats,

Adieu to its arbours, and borders, and squares ; On terms of friendship with the rats ; Adieu to its succory, onions, and leeks ; And, were it not that these Adieu to whatever good cookery seeks. Through doors contrive to squeeze Too narrow for their foes, Beneath a great cabbage the hare was in bed, The animals long-snouted Was started, and shot at, and hastily fled. Would long ago have routed, Off went the wild chase, with a terrible screech, And from the planet scouted And not through a hole, but a horrible breach, Their race, as I suppose. Which some one had made, at the beck of the lord.

Wide through the poor hedge ! 'T would havt been One year it did betide, quite absurd When they were multiplied, Should loi'dship not freely from garden go out, An army took the field On horseback, attended by rabble and rout. Of rats, with spear and shield,

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Whose crowded ranks led on Well nigh attain'd his own salvation ; A king named Ratapon. A dolphin took him for a man, The weasels, too, their banner And on his dorsal gave him place. UnfuiTd in warlike manner. So grave the silly creature's face, As Fame her trumpet sounds, That one might well have set him down The victory balanced well That old musician of renown*. Enrich' d were fallow grounds The fish had almost reach'd the land,

Where slaughter'd legions fell When, as it what pity ! ; happen'd,— a

But by said trollop's tattle, He ask'd, Are you from Athens grand l

The loss of life in battle Yes ; well they know me in that city. Thinn'd most the rattish race If ever you have business there, I'll In almost every place ; help you do it, for my kki And finally their rout The highest offices are in. Was total, spite of stout My cousin, sir, is now lord mayor. Artarpax and Psicarpax, The dolphin thank' d him, with good grace, And valiant Meridarpax*, Both for himself and all his race, Who, cover'd o'er with dust, And ask'd, You doubtless know Piraeus, Long time sustained their host Where, should we come to town, you'll see us

Down sinking on the plain. Piraeus ? yes, indeed I know efforts Their were in vain ; He was my crony long ago. Fate ruled that Haai hour, The dunce knew not the harbour's name,

(Inexorable power !) And for a man's mistook the same. And so the captains fled The people are by no means few,

As well as those they led ; Y/ho never went ten miles from home, 1 The princes perish d all. Nor know their market-town from Rome, The undistinguish'd small Yet cackle just as if they knew. In certain holes found shelter, The dolphin laugh'd, and then began

In crowding, helter-skelter ; His rider's form and face to scan, But the nobility And found himself about to save Could not go in so free, From fishy feasts, beneath the wave, Who proudly had assumed A mere resemblance of a man.

Each one a helmet plumed ; So, plunging down, he turn'd to find We know not, truly, whether Some drowninsr wisrht of human kind. For honour's sake the feather, foes to strike Or with terror ; But, truly, 'twas then* error. Nor hole, nor crack, nor crevice VIH.—THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.

Will let their head-gear in ; While meaner rats in bevies A pagan kept a god of wood, sort that never hears, An easy passage win ; A So that the shafts of fate Though furnish'd well with ears, Do chiefly hit the great. From which he hoped for wondrous good.

The idol cost the board of three ; A feather in the cap So much enrich'd was he Is oft a great mishap. With vows and offerings vain, An equipage too grand With bullocks garlanded and slain : Comes often to a stand No idol ever had, as that, Within a narrow place. A kitchen quite so full and fat. The small, whate'er the case, But all this worship at his shrine With ease slip through a strait, Brought not from this same block divine Where larger folks must wait. 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, VII.—THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN. And suffer in his purse, Although the gcd fared none the worse. It was a custom of the Greeks At last, by sheer impatience bold, For passengers o'er sea to carry The man a crowbar seizes, Both monkeys full of tricks His idol breaks in pieces, And funny dogs to make them merry. And finds it richly stuff'd with gold. A ship, that had such things on deck, How 's this ? Have I devoutly treated, Not far from Athens, went to wreck. Says he, your godship, to be cheated? But for the dolphins, all had drown' d. Now leave my house, and go your way, They are a philanthropic fish, And search for altars where you may. Which fact in Pliny may be found ; You're like those natures, dull and gross, A better voucher who could wish ? From which comes nothing but by blows. They did their best on this occasion. The more I gave, the less I got A monkey even, on their plan I'll now be rich, and you may rot. * Names of rats, invented by Homer. * Arion.

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One day he would recount with glee IX.—THE JAY IN THE FEATHERS OF THE To his assembled progeny PEACOCK. The various beauties of these places, The customs of the various races, A peacock moulted : soon a jay was seen And laws that sway the realms aquatic, Bedeck' d with Argus tail of gold and green, (She did not mean the hydrostatic !) High strutting, with elated crest, One thing alone the rat perplex'd, As much a peacock as the rest. He was but moderate as a swimmer. His trick was recognised and bruited, The frog this matter nicely fix'd His person jeer'd at, hiss'd, and hooted. By kindly lending him her The peacock gentry flock' d together, Long paw, which with a rush she tied And pluck'd the fool of every feather. To his ; and off they started, side by side. Nay more, when back he sneak' d to join his race, Arrived upon the lakelet's brink, They shut their portals in his face. There was but little time to think. The frog leap'd in, and almost brought her There is another sort of jay, Bound guest to land beneath the water.

The number of its legs the same, Perfidious breach of law and right ! Which makes of borrow'd plumes display, She meant to have a supper warm And plagiary is its name. Out of his sleek and dainty form.

But hush ! the tribe I'll not offend Already did her appetite 'Tis not my work their ways to mend. Dwell on the morsel with delight. gods, in anguish, The he invokes ; © faithless His hostess rudely mocks ; He struggles up, she struggles down. X.-THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS. A kite, that hovers in the air, Inspecting everything with care, The first who saw the humpback' d camel Now spies the rat belike to drown, Fled off for life ; the next approach'd with care And, with a rapid wing, The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare Upbears the wretched thing, to trammel. The desert wanderer The frog, too, dangling by the string '. Such is the power of use to change The joy of such a double haul objects new and The face of strange ; Was to the hungry kite not small. Which grow, by looking at, so tame, It gave him all that he couid wish— They do not even seem the same. A double meal of flesh and fish. And since this theme is up for our attention, A certain watchman I will mention, The best contrived deceit Who, seeing something far Can hurt its own contriver, Away upon the ocean, And perfidy doth often cheat Could not but speak his notion Its author's purse of every stiver. 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, XH.-THE ANIMALS SENDING TRIBUTE TO

And floating sticks of wood at last ! ALEXANDER.

Full many things on earth, I wot, A fable flourish 'd with antiquity Will claim this tale, —and well they may Whose meaning I could never clearly see. ;

They're something dreadful far away, Kind reader, draw the moral if you're able : But near at hand—they're not. 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, XI—THE FROG AND THE RAT. Had to his footstool gravely summon'd all Men, quadrupeds, and nullipeds, together They to bamboozle are inclined, With all the bird-republics, every feather, Saith Merlin, who bamboozled are. The goddess of the hundred mouths, I say, The word, though rather unrefined, Thus having spread dismay,

ill publishing Has yet an energy we can spare ; By widely abroad So by its aid I introduce my tale. This mandate of the demigod, A well-fed rat, rotund and hale, The animals, and all that do obey Not knowing either Fast or Lent, Their appetite alone, mistrusted now Disporting round a frog-pond went. That to another sceptre they must bow. A frog approach'd, and, with a friendly greeting, Far in the desert met their various races, Invited him to see her at her home, All gathering from their hiding-places. And pledged a dinner worth his eating, Discuss'd was many a notion. To which the rat was nothing loath to come. At last, it was resolved, on motion,

Of words persuasive there was little need : To pacify the conquering banner, She spoke, however, of a grateful bath By sending homage in, and tribute. ; curious their the homage and its manner Of sports and wonders on path ; With both

Of rarities of flower, and rush, and reed : They charged the monkey, as a glib brute ;

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24 THE CABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book IV.

And, lest the chap should too much chatter, In black on white they wrote the matter. Nought but the tribute served to fash, XIII.—THE HORSE WISHING TO BE REVENGED As that must needs be paid in cash. UPON THE STAG. A prince, who chanced a mine to own, At last, obliged them with a loan. The horses have not always been The mule and ass, to bear the treasure, The humble slaves of men. Their service tender'd, full of pleasure ; When, in the far-off past, And then the caravan was none the worse, The fare of gentlemen was mast, Assisted by the camel and the horse. And even hats were never felt, Forthwith proceeded all the four Horse, ass, and mule in forests dwelt. Behind the new ambassador, Nor saw one then, as in these ages, And saw, erelong, within a narrow place, So many saddles, housings, pillions ; Monseigneur Lion's quite unwelcome face. Such splendid equipages,

Well met, and all in time, said he ; With golden-lace postilions ; Myself your fellow traveller will be. Such harnesses for cattle,

I went my tribute by itself to bear ; To be consumed in battle ; And though 'tis light, I well might spare As one saw not so many feasts, The unaccustom'd load. And people married by the priests. Take each a quarter, if you please, The horse fell out, within that space, And I will guard you on the road With the antler' d stag, so fleetly made : More free and at my ease He could not catch him in a race, In better plight, you understand, And so he came to man for aid. To fight with any robber band. Man first his suppliant bitted ; lion to refuse, the fact is, A Then, on his back well seated, Is not a very usual practice : Gave chase with spear, and rested not So in he comes, for better and for worse ; Till to the ground the foe he brought. Whatever he demands is done, This done, the honest horse, quite blindly, And, spite of Jove's heroic son, Thus thauk'd his benefactor kindly : He fattens freely from the public purse. Dear sir, I'm much obliged to you ; While wending on their way, I'll back to savage life. Adieu ! They found a spot one day, O, no, the man replied ;

With waters hemm'd, of crystal sheen ; You'd better here abide ; Its carpet, flower-besprinkled green ; I know too well your use. Where pastured at their ease Here, free from all abuse, Both flocks of sheep and dainty heifers, Remain a liege to me, And play'd the cooling breeze And large your provender shall be. The native land of all the zephyrs. Alas ! good housing or good cheer, No sooner is the lion there That costs one's liberty, is dear. Than of some sickness he complains. The horse his folly now perceived, Says he, You on your mission fare. But quite too late he grieved. A fever, with its thirst and pains, No grief his fate could alter ; Di'ies up my blood, and bakes my brains ; His stall was built, and there he lived, And I must search some herb, And died there in his halter. Its fatal power to curb. Ah ! wise had he one small offence forgot ! For you, there is no time to waste ; Revenge, however sweet, is dearly bought Pay me my money, and make haste. By that one good, which gone, all else is nought. The treasures were unbound, And placed upon the ground. Then, with a look which testified His royal joy, the lion cried,

coins, good heavens, have multiplied ! | My XIV.-THE FOX AND THE BUST. And see the young ones of the gold

As big already as the old !

The increase belongs to me, no doubt The great are like the maskers of the stage ; of the age. And eagerly he took it out ! Their show deceives the simple little staid For all that they appear to be they pass, 'Twas beneath the lid ; The wonder was that any did. With only those whose type 's the ass. Confounded were the monkey and his suite. The fox, more wary, looks beneath the skin, And, dumb with fear, betook them to their way, And looks on every side, and, when he sees j And bore complaint to Jove's great son, they say- That all their glory is a semblance thin, without a He turns, and saves the hinges of his knees, Complaint reason meet ; 'tis said, For what could he ? Though a celestial scion, With such a speech as once, He could but fight, as lion versus lion. He utter'd to a hero's head. A bust, somewhat colossal in its size, When corsairs battle, Turk with Turk, Attracted crowds of wondering eyes. They're not about their proper work. The fox admired the sculptor's pains : Fine head, said he, but void of brains ! The same remark to many a lord applies.

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BOOK IV.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 25

Humph ! cried the veteran mutton-eater. XV.—THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID. Now this, now that ! Now hot, now cool Is this the way they change their metre ? fool As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, And do they take me for a \ And browse the herbage of a distant hill, Some day, a nutting in the wood, She latch'd her door, and bid, That young one yet shall be my food. little time has he to dote With matron care, her kid ; But My daughter, as you live, On such a feast ; the dogs rush out seize the caitiff throat This portal don't undo And by the ; To any creature who And country ditchers, thick and stout, rustic spears and forks of iron, This watchword does not give : With " Deuce take the wolf and all his race ! '' The hapless animal environ. The wolf was passing near the place What brought you here, old head? cried one. By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, He told it all, as I have done, Why, bless my soul ! the frantic mother said, And laid them up as useful treasure ; And hardly need we mention, You, villain, eat my little son ! Escaped the goat's attention. And did I nurse the darling boy, No sooner did he see Your fiendish appetite to cloy ? The matron off, than he, With that they knock' d him on the head. With hypocritic tone and face, His feet and scalp they bore to town, Cried out before the place, To grace the seigneur's hall, " Deuce take the wolf and all his race ! Where, pinn'd against the wall, Not doubting thus to gain admission, This verse completed his renown : " The kid, not void of all suspicion, Ye honest wolves, believe not all Peer'd through a crack, and cried, That mothers say, when children squall ! Show me white paw before You ask me to undo the door. The wolf could not, if he had died, XVIL—THE WORDS OF SOCRATES. For wolves have no connexion With paws of that complexion. A house was built by Socrates So, much surprised, our gormandiser That failed the public taste to please.

Retired to fast till he was wiser. Some blamed the inside ; some, the out ; and all How would the kid have been undone. Agreed that the apartments were too small.

Had she but trusted to the word Such rooms for him, the greatest sage of Greece !

The wolf by chance had overheard ! I ask, said he, no greater bliss

Two sureties better are than one ; Than real friends to fill e'en this. And caution 's worth its cost, And reason had good Socrates Though sometimes seeming lost. 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 ; XVI.. -THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND HER There's nothing rarer than the thing. CHILD.

This wolf another brings to mind, Who found dame Fortune more unkind, XVIIL—THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS. In that the greedy, pirate sinner,

Was balk'd of life as well as dinner. All power is feeble with dissension : As saith our tale, a villager For this I quote the Phrygian slave.

Dwelt in a by, unguarded place ; If aught I add to his invention, There, hungry, watch' d our pillager Tt is our manners to engrave,

For luck and chance to mend his case. And not from any envious wishes ; For there his thievish eyes had seen I'm not so foolishly ambitious. All sorts of game go out and in Phsedrus enriches oft his story,

Nice sucking calves, and lambs and sheep In quest—I doubt it not—of glory ! And turkeys by the regiment, Such thoughts were idle in my breast. With steps so proud, and necks so bent, An aged man, near going to his rest, They'd make a daintier glutton weep. His gather'd sons thus solemnly address'd :

The thief at length began to tire To break this bunch of arrows you may try ; Of being gnaw'd by vain desire. And, first, the string that binds them 1 untie. Just then a child set up a cry : The elders, having tried with might and main, Be still, the mother said, or I Exclaim'd, This bundle I resign

Will throw you to the wolf, you brat ! To muscles sturdier than mine.

Ha, ha ! thought he, what talk is that ! The second tried, and bow'd himself in vain.

The gods be thank'd for luck so good ! The youngest took them with the like success. And ready at the door he stood, All were obliged their weakness to confess. said, When soothingly the mother Unharm'd the arrows pass'd from son to son ; little Now cry no more, my dear ; Of all they did not break a single one.

That naughty wolf, if he comes here, Weak fellows ! said their sire, I now must show Your dear papa shall kill him dead. What in the case my feeble strength can do.

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1 26 THE FABLES Q£ LA FONTAINE. [book iv

They laugh'd, and thought their father but in joke, Old iEsop's man of hidden treasure Till, one by one, they saw the arrows broke. May serve the case to demonstrate.

See concord's power ! replied the sire ; as long He had a great estate, As you in love agree, you will be strong. But chose a second life to wait join Ere he began to taste his I go, my sons, to our fathers good ; pleasure. Now promise me to live as brothers should, This man, whom gold so little bless'd, And soothe by this your dying father's fears. Was not possessor, but possess'd. Each strictly promised with a flood of tears. His cash he buried under ground, the Where only might his Their father took them by hand, and died ; heart be found ; And soon the virtue of their vows was tried. It being, then, his sole delight Their sire had left a large estate To ponder of it day and night,

Involved in lawsuits intricate ; And consecrate his rusty pelf, Here seized a creditor, and there A sacred offering, to himself. A neighbour levied for a share. In all his eating, drinking, travel, first the trio Most wondrous short of funds he At nobly bore seem'd ; The brunt of all this legal war. One would have thought he little dream'd But short their friendship as 'twas rare. Where lay such sums beneath the gravel. Whom blood had join'd —and small the wonder! A ditcher mark'd his coming to the spot, frequent it, The force of interest drove asunder ; So was And, as is wont in such affairs, And thus at last some little inkling got Ambition, envy, were coheirs. Of the deposit. In parcelling their sire's estate, He took it all, and babbled not. They quarrel, quibble, litigate, One morning, ere the dawn, Each aiming to supplant the other. Forth had our miser gone The judge, by turus, condemns each brother. To worship what he loved the best,

Their creditors make new assault, When, lo ! he found an empty nest

Some pleading error, some default. Alas ! what groaning, Availing, crying !

What deep and bitter sighing ! The sunder' d brothers disagree ; For counsel one, have counsels three. His torment makes him tear

All lose their wealth ; and now their sorrows Out by the roots his hair. Bring fresh to mind those broken arrows. 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. XIX.-THE ORACLE AND THE ATHEIST. Why, man, is this a time of war, That you should bring your gold so far ? That his Maker can deceive, it in man You'd better kept your drawer ; Is monstrous folly to believe. And I'll be bound, if once but in it, The labyrinthine mazes of the heart You could have got it any minute.

Are open to His eyes in every part. At any minute ! Ah, Heaven knows

Whatever one may do, or think, or feel, That cash comes harder than it goes ! From Him no darkness can the thing conceal. I touch'd it not. —Then have the grace A pagan once, of graceless heart and hollow, To explain to me that rueful face,

Whose faith in gods, I'm apprehensive, Replied the man ; for, if 'tis true Was quite as real as expensive, You touch'd it not, how plain the case, Consulted, at his shrine, the god Apollo. That, put the stone back in its place,

Is what I hold alive, or not ? And all will be as well for you ! 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, XXI.—THE EYE OF THE MASTER. Dead or alive, show me your sparrow, And cease to set for me a trap Which can but cause yourself mishap. A stag took refuge from the chase I see afar, and far I shoot my arrow. 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, XX.-THE MISER WHO HAD LOST HIS Betray me not, and, as I live, TREASURE. The richest pasture I will show,

That e'er was grazed on, high or low ; 'Tis use that constitutes possession. Your kindness you will not regret, I ask that sort of men, whose passion For well some day I'll pay the debt. It is to get and never spend, The oxen promised seci'ecy. Down crouch'd the stag, and breathed more free. Of all their toil what is the end ; What they enjoy of all their labours At eventide they brought fresh hay,

Which do not equally their neighbours % As was their custom day by day ; Throughout this upper mortal strife, And often came the servants near, The miser leads a beggar's life. As did indeed the overseer,

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But with so little thought or care, And told her young to listen well, That neither horns, nor hide, nor hair And keep a constant sentinel. Reveal'd to them the stag was there. The owner of this field, said she, Already thank'd the wild-wood stranger Will come, I know, his grain to see.

The oxen for their treatment kind, Hear all he says ; we little birds And there to wait made up his mind, Must shape our conduct by his words. Till he might issue free from danger. No sooner was"

I dread his coming, for your sake ; To-morrow, at the break of day.

Your boasting may be premature : The lark, returning, found no harm, Till then, poor stag, you're not secure. Except her neat in wild alarm. 'Twas but a little while before Says one, We heard the owner say. The careful master oped the door. Go, give our friends a call

this, ? help, How's my boys said he ; To to-morrow, break of day. These empty racks will never do. Replied the lark, If that is all, Go, change this dirty litter too. We need not be in any fear, More care than this I want to see But only keep an open ear. Of oxen that belong to me. As gay as larks, now eat your victuals. Well, Jim, my boy, you're young and stout They ate and slept—the great and littles.

it cost to ? The dawn arrives, but What would clear these cobwebs out not the friends ; And put these yokes, and names, and traces, The lark soars up, the owner wends

All as they should be, in their places ? His usual round to view his land. Thus looking round, he came to see This grain, says he, ought not to stand.

One head he did not usually. Our friends do wrong ; and so does he

The stag is found ; his foes Who trusts that friends will friendly be. Deal heavily their blows. My son, go call our kith and kin Down sinks he in the strife To help us get our harvest hi. ; No tears can save his life. This second order made They slay, and dress, and salt the beast, The little larks still more afraid. cook his flesh in feast, He sent for kindred, mother, his And many a by son ; And many a neighbour gets a taste. The work will now, indeed, be done. Phsedrus says it, pithily, No, darlings to sleep As ; go ; The master's is the eye to see : Our lowly nest we'll keep. I add the lover's, as for me. 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 wait for other people's To tools ; XXII.—THE LARK AND HER YOUNG ONES WITH As if one might, for love or pelf,

THE OWNER OF A FIELD. Have friends more faithful than himself ! Engrave this lesson deep, my son. " Depend upon yourself alone," And know you now what must be done ? Has to a common proverb grown. We must ourselves our sickles bring, 'Tis thus confirm'd in iEsop's way : And, while the larks their matins sing, The larks to build their nests are seen Begin the work ; and, on this plan, Among the wheat-crops young green and ; Get in our harvest as we can. That is to say, This plan the lark no sooner knew, What time all things, dame Nature heeding, Than, Now's the time, she said, my chicks ; Betake themselves to love and breeding And, taking little time to fix, The monstrous whales and sharks Away they flew ; Beneath the briny flood, All fluttering, soaring, often grounding, The tigers in the wood, Decamp'd without a trumpet sounding. 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 BOOK V. That she would be a mother still,

And resolutely took her measures ; I.—THE WOODMAN AND MERCURY. First, got herself by Hymen match'd ; TO M. THE CHJSVALIER DE BOUILLON. Then built her nest, laid, sat, and hatch'd. All went as well as such things could. taste Your has served my work to guide ; The wheat-crop ripening ere the brood To gain its suffrage I have tried. Were strong enough to take their flight, You'd have me shun a care too nice, Aware how perilous their plight, Or beauty at too dear a price, The lark went out to search for food, Or too much effort, as a vice.

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28 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

My taste with yours agrees : And sent their prayers to Jupiter

Such effort cannot please : So fast, he knew not which to hear. And too much pains about the polish His winged son, however, sent

Is apt the substance to abolish ; With gold and silver axes, went. Not that it would be right or wise Each would have thought himself a fool The graces all to ostracize. Not to have own'd the richest tool.

You love them much when delicate ; But Mercury promptly gave, instead Nor is it left for rne to hate. Of it, a blow upon the head. As to the scope of iEsop's plan, With simple truth to be contented, I fail little as as I can. Is surest not to be repented ; If this my rhymed and measured speech But still there are who would Availeth not to please or teach, With evil trap the good, it I own not a fault of mine ; Whose cunning is but stupid, Some unknown reason I assign. For Jove is never duped. With little strength endued For battles rough and rude, Or with Herculean arm to smite, II.—THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT. I show to vice its foolish plight. In this my talent wholly lies ; An iron pot proposed Not that it does at ail suffice. To an earthen pot a journey. fable sometimes brings to view My The latter was opposed, The face of vanity purblind Expressing the concern he With that of restless envy join'd ; Had felt about the danger life two. And now turns upon these pivots Of going out a ranger. Such is the silly little frog He thought the kitchen hearth That the her bog. aped ox upon The safest place on earth double image sometimes shows A For one so very brittle. vice and folly do oppose How For thee, who art a kettle, The ways of virtue and good sense ; And hast a tougher skin, As lambs with wolves so grim and gaunt, There's nought to keep thee in. The silly fly and frugal ant. I'll be thy body-guard, Thus swells comedy my work— a immense Replied the iron pot Its acts unnumber'd diverse, and If anything that's hard Its scene the boundless universe. Should threaten thee a jot, Gods, men, and brutes, all play their part Between you I will go, In fields of nature of art, or And save thee from the blow. Jupiter the rest. And among This offer him persuaded. Here comes the god who's wont to bear The iron pot paraded Jove's frequent fair, errands to the Himself as guard and guide With winged heels and haste ; Close at his cousin's side. But other work 's in hand to-day. Now, in their tripod way, They hobble as they may; A man that labour'd in the wood And eke together bolt Had lost his honest livelihood ; At every little jolt, That is to say, Which gives the crockery pain His axe was gone astray. ; But presently his comrade hits He had no tools to spare ; So hard, he dashes him to bits, This wholly earn'd his fare. Before he can complain. Without a hope beside, He sat him down and cried, Take care that you associate With equals only, lest your fate Alas, my axe ! where can it be ? Between these pots should find its mate. 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. III.—THE LITTLE FISH AND THE FISHER,

Your axe must not be lost, said he : Now will you know it when you see ? A little fish will grow, An axe I found upon the road. If life be spared, a great With that an axe of gold he show'd. But yet to let him go, Is't this ? The woodman answer'd, Nay. And for his growing wait, An axe of silver, bright and gay, May not be very wise, Itefused the honest woodman too. As 'tis not sure your bait At last the finder brought to view Will catch him when of size. An axe of iron, steel, and wood. Upon a river bank, a fisher took in That's mine, he said, joyful mood ; A tiny troutling from his hook. With that I'll quite contented be. Said he, 'Twill serve to count, at least, The god replied, I give the three, As the beginning of my feast As due- reward of honesty. And so I'll put it with the rest. This iuck when neighbouring choppers knew. This little fish, thus caught, They lost their axes, not a few, His clemency besought.

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What will your honour do with me \ you see. I'm cot a mouthful, as VI.—THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO Pray let me grow to be a trout, And then come here and fish me out. SERVANTS. Some alderman, who likes things nice, Will buy me then at any price. A beldam kept two spinning maids, But now, a hundred such you'll have to fish, Who plied so handily their trades, To make a single good-for-nothing dish. Those spinning sisters down below Well, well, be it so, replied the fisher, Were bunglers when compared with these. My little fish, who play the preacher, No care did this old woman know The frying-pan must be your lot, But giving tasks as she might please.

Although, no doubt, you like it not : No sooner did the god of day I fry the fry that can be got. His glorious locks enkindle, Than both the wheels began to play, In some things, men of sense And from each whirling spindle Prefer the present to the future tense. 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. OP THE HARE. IV.-THE EARS The beldam roused, more graceless yet, In greasy petticoat bedight, Some beast with horns did gore Struck up her farthing light, The lion; and that sovereign dread, And then forthwith the bed beset, Resolved to suffer so no more, Where deeply, blessedly did snore Straight banish' d from his realm, 'tis said, Those two maid-servants tired and poor. All sorts of beasts with horns One oped an eye, an arm one stretch 'd, Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns. And both their breath most sadly fetch'd, Such brutes all promptly fled. This threat concealing in the sigh A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving, That cursed cock shall surely die ! Could hardly help believing And so he did : —they cut his throat, That some vile spy for horns would take them, And put to sleep his rousing note. And food for accusation make them. And yet this murder mended not Adieu, said he, my neighbour cricket ; The cruel hardship of their lot I take my foreign ticket. For now the twain were scarce in bed My ears, should I stay here, Before they heard the summons dread. Will turn to horns, I fear The beldam, full of apprehension And were they shorter than a bird's, Lest oversleep should cause detention, I fear the effect of words. Ran like a goblin through her mansion. These horns ! the cricket answer'd ; why, Thus often, when one thinks God made them ears who can deny ? To clear himself from ill, Yes, said the coward, still they'll make them horns, His effort only sinks And horns, perhaps of unicorns ! Him in the deeper still. In vain shall I protest, The beldam acting for the cock, With all the learning of the schools : Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock. My reasons they will send to rest In th' Hospital of Fools.

V.—THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF. VII.-THE SATYR AND THE TRAVELLER.

cunning old fox, of plundering habits, A Within a savage forest grot Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits, A satyr and his chips none of his sort had caught in a nap, Whom Were taking down their porridge hot; Was finally caught in somebody's trap. Their cups were at their lips. By luck he escaped, not wholly and hale, For the price of his luck was the loss of his tail. You might have seen in mossy den, Escaped in this. way, to save his disgrace, Himself, his wife, and brood He thought to get others in similar case. They had not tailor-clothes, like men, One day that the foxes in council were met, But appetites as good. Why wear we, said he, this cumbering weight,

Which sweeps in the dirt wherever it goes ? traveller, benighted, Pray tell me its use if any one knows. In came a wet, If the council will take my advice, All hungry, cold, and to eat invited We shall dock off our tails in a trice. Who heard himself Your advice maybe good, said one on the ground; With nothing like regret. I reply, But, ere pray turn yourself round ; Whereat such a shout from the council was heard, He did not give his host the pain Poor bob-tail, confounded, could say not a word. His asking to repeat To urge the reform would have wasted his breath: But first he blew with might and main Long tails were the mode till the day of his death. To give his fingers heat.

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30 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book v.

Then in his steaming porridge dish He delicately blew. IX.—THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS. The -wondering satyr said, I wish The use of both I knew. The farmer's patient care and toil Are oftener wanting than the soil. Why, first, my blowing warms my hand, And then it cools my porridge. A wealthy ploughman drawing near his end, Ah ! said his host, then understand Call'd in his sons apart from every friend, I cannot give you storage. And said, When of your sire bereft, To sleep beneath one roof with you, The heritage our fathers left I may not be so bold. Guard well, nor sell a single field.

Ear be from me that mouth untrue A treasure in it is conceal'd : Which blows both hot and cold. The place, precisely, I don't know, But industry will serve to show. o The harvest past, Time's forelock take, And search with VIH.-TEE HORSE AND THE WOLF. plough, and spade, and rake; Turn over every inch of sod, Nor leave unsearch'd a single A wolf, what time the thawing breeze clod. The father died. The sons and not in vain Renews the life of plants and trees, — Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er a°;ain : And beasts go forth from winter lair I hat year their acres bore To seek abroad their various fare, More grain than e'er before. A wolf, I say, about those days, Though hidden money found they In sharp look-out for means and ways, none, Yet had their father wisely done, Espied a horse turn'd out to graze. To show by such a measure, His joy the reader may opine. That toil itself is treasure. Once got, said he, this game were fine ; But if a sheep, 'twere sooner mine. e I can't proceed my usual way ; Some trick must now be put in play. This said, X.—THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR. He came with measured tread, if healer of disease, A mountain was in travail As a pang ; Some pupil of Hippocrates, The country with her clamour ran^. And told the horse, with learned verbs, Out ran the people all, to see, He knew the power of roots and herbs, Supposing that the birth would be Whatever grew about those borders, A city, or at least a house.

And not at all to flatter It was a mouse ! Himself in such a matter, Could cure of all disorders. In thinking of this fable, If he, Sir Horse, would not conceal Of story feign'd and false, The symptoms of his case, But meaning veritable, He, Doctor Wolf, would gratis heal My mind the image calls For that to feed in such a place, Of one who writes, " The war I sing And run about untied, Which Titans waged against the Thunder-king." Was proof itself of some disease, As on "the sounding verses ring, all the books decide. As What will be brought to birth ? I have, good doctor, if you please, Why, dearth. 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 XI.—FORTUNE AND THE BOY Of ills which make acceptable What you may also have from me Beside a well, uncurb'd and deep,

sleep : The aid of skilful surgery ; A schoolboy laid him down to Which noble art, the fa'ct is, (Such rogues can do so anywhere.) For horses of the blood I practise. If some land man had seen him there, if The fellow, with this talk sublime, He would have leap'd as distracted ;

Watch'd for a snap the fitting time. But Fortune much more wisely acted ; Meanwhile, suspicious of some trick, For, passing by, she softly waked the child,

The wary patient nearer draws, Thus whispering in accents mild : And gives his doctor such a kick, I save your life, my little dear, As makes a chowder of his jaws. And beg you not to venture here Exclaim'd the wolf, in sorry plight, Again, for had you fallen in,

I own those heels have served me right. I should have had to bear the sin ; I err'd to quit my trade, But I demand, in reason's name, As I will not in future If for your rashness I'm to blame. Me nature surely made With this the goddess went her way. For nothing but a butcher. I like her logic, I must say.

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There takes place nothing on this planet, But Fortune ends, whoe'er began it. XV.-THE STAG AND THE VINE. In all adventures good or ill, stag, We look to her to foot the bill. A by favour of a vine, Has one a stupid, empty pate, Which grew where suns most genial shine, form'd a thick That serves him never till too late ? And and matted bower He clears himself hy blaming Fate. 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 mores The stag, a thankless wretch and vile, XII.—THE DOCTORS. Began to browse his benefactress o'er. The hunters, listening the while, The selfsame patient put to test The rustling heard, came back Two doctors, Fear-the-worst and Hope-the-best With all their yelping pack, And seized him in that very place. The latter hoped ; the former did maintain The man would take all medicine in vain. This is, said he, but justice, in my case. By different cures the patient was beset, Let every black ingrate But erelong cancell'd nature's debt, Henceforward—profit by my fate. While nursed The dogs fell to 'twere wasting breath As was prescribed by Fear-the-worst. To pray those hunters at the death. But over the disease both triumph'd still. They left, and we will not revile 'em, Said one, I well foresaw his death. A warning for profaners of asylum. Yes, said the other, but my pill Would certainly have saved his breath.

XVI.—THE SERPENT AND THE FILE

A serpent, neighbour to a smith, XIIL—THE HEN AYITH THE GOLDEN EGGS. (A neighbour bad to meddle with,) Went through his shop, in search of food, How avarice loseth all, But nothing found, 'tis understood, By striving all to gain, To eat, except a file of steel, I need no witness call Of which he tried to make a meal. But him whose thrifty hen, The file, without a spark of passion, As by the fable we are told, Address'd him in the following fashion : Laid every day an egg of gold. Poor simpleton ! you surely bite She hath a treasure in her body, With less of sense than appetite Bethinks the avaricious noddy. ; For ere from me you gain He kills and opens vexed to find — One quarter of a grain, All things like hens of common kind. You'll break your teeth from ear to ear. Thus spoil'd the source of all his riches, Time's are the only teeth I fear. To misers he a lesson teaches. In these last changes of the mooa, This tale concerns those men of letters, How often doth one see Who, good for nothing, bite their betters. Men made as poor as he Their biting so is quite unwise. By force of getting rich too soon ! 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 dia- XIV.—THE ASS CARRYING RELICS. mond.

An ass, with relics for his loadj Supposed the worship on the road Meant for himself alone, And took on lofty airs, XVH.—THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE. Receiving as his own The incense and the prayers. Beware how you deride Some one, who saw his great mistake, The exiles from life's sunny side : Cried, Master Donkey, do not make To you is little known soon their case be your own. Yourself so big a fool. How may they worship, On this, sage iEsop gives a tale or two, Not you but your pack ; verses I propose to do. They praise the. idols on your back, As in my field in common share And count yourself a paltry tool. A A partridge and a hare, And live in peaceful state, 'Tis thus a brainless magistrate Till, woeful to relate ! Is honour'd for his robe of state. The hunters' mingled cry Compels the hare to fly.

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32 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book V

He hurries to his fort, The owl return' d ; and, sad, he found And spoils almost the sport Nought left but claws upon the ground. By faulting every hound He pray'd the gods above and gods below That yelps upon the ground. To smite the brigand who had caused his woe. At last his reeking heat Quoth one, On you alone the blame must fall Betrays his snug retreat. Or rather on the law of nature, Old Tray, with philosophic nose, Which wills that every earthly creature Snuffs carefully, and grows Shall think its like the loveliest of all.

So certain, that he cries, You told the eagle of your young ones' graces ; picture of their faces : The hare is here ; how wow ! You gave the And veteran Ranger now, Had it of likeness any traces ? The dog that never lies, The hare is gone, replies.

Alas ! poor, wretched hare, Back comes he to his lair, XIX—THE LION GOIXG TO WAR.

To meet destruction there ! The partridge, void of fear, The lion had an enterprise in hand

Begins her friend to jeer : Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal, You hragg'd of being fleet And gave the animals a call impartial in his way, to serve high How serve you, now, your feet ? Each, his command Scarce has she ceased to speak, The elephant should carry on his back The laugh yet in her beak, The tools of war, the mighty public pack, And fight in elephantine When comes her turn to die, way and form ; From which she could not fly. The bear should hold himself prepared to storm ; fox all secret stratagems should fix She thought her wings, indeed, The ; The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks. Enough for every need ; But in her laugh and talk, Dismiss, said one, the blockhead asses, hares, too cowardly and fleet. Forgot the cruel hawk ! And

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 XVIII.—THE EAGLE AND THE OWL. Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear.

The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease A monarch provident and wise Their war, embraced in pledge of peace. Will hold his subjects all of consequence, On faith of king, on faith of owl, they swore And know in each what talent lies. That they would eat each other's chicks no more. There's nothing useless to a man of sense.

But know you mine ? said Wisdom's bird. Not I, indeed, the eagle cried.

The worse for that, the owl replied : XX.—THE BEAR AND THE TWO COMPANIONS. I fear your oath 's a useless word ; I fear that you, as king, will not Two fellows, needing funds, and bold, Consider duly who or what A bearskin to a furrier sold, You kings and gods, of what 's before ye, Of which the bear was living still, Are apt to make one category. But which they presently would kill Adieu, my young, if you should meet them ! At least they said they would. Describe them, then, or let me greet them, And, if their word was good, And, on my life, I will not eat them, It was a king of bears—an Ursa Major The eagle said. The owl replied : The biggest bear beneath the sun. My little ones, I say with pride, Its skin, the chaps would wager, For grace of form cannot be match'd, Was cheap at double cost The prettiest birds that e'er were hatch'd ; 'Twould make one laugh at frost By this you cannot fail to know them ; And make two robes as well as one. 'Tis needless, therefore, that I show them. Old Dindenaut *, in sheep who dealt, Pray don't forget, but keep this mark in view, Less prized his sheep, than they their pelt Lest fate should curse my happy nest by you. (In their account 'twas theirs, At length God gives the owl a set of heirs, But in his own, the bear's.) And while at early eve abroad he fares, By bargain struck upon the skin, In quest of birds and mice for food, Two days at most must bring it in. Our eagle haply spies the brood, Forth went the two. More easy found than got, As on some craggy rock they sprawl, The bear came growling at them on the trot. Or nestle in some ruined wall, Behold our dealers both confounded, (But which it matters not at all,) As if by thunderbolt astounded ! And thinks them ugly little frights, Their bargain vanish' d suddenly in air ; Grim, sad, with voice like shrieking sprites. For who could plead his interest with a bear ? These chicks, says he, with looks almost infernal, One of the friends sprung up a tree ; Can't be the darlings of our friend nocturnal. The other, cold as ice could be, I'll sup of them. And so he did, not slightly : He never sups, if he can help it, lightly. * Tide Rabelais, Pantagruel, Book IV. Chap. viii.

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Fell on his face, feign' d death, A certain Greek, however, beats And closely held his breath, Them both in his laconic feats. it tale he locks He having somewhere heard said Each in verses four ; The bear ne'er preys upon the dead. The well or ill I leave to critic lore. Sir Bear, sad blockhead, was deceived At iEsop's side to see him let us aim. believed Upon a theme substantially the The prostrate man a corpse ; same. one selects lover But, half suspecting some deceit, The a of the chase ; He feels and snuffs from head to feet, A shepherd comes, the other's tale to grace. And in the nostrils blows. Their tracks I keep, though either tale may grow The body's surely dead, he thinks. A little in its features as I go.

I'll leave it, says he, for it stinks ; The one which 'iEsop tells is nearly this : And off into the woods he goes. shepherd from his flock began to The other dealer, from his tree A miss, long'd to catch the stealer Descending cautiously, to see And of his sheep. Before a cavern, dark and deep, His comrade lying in the dirt, Where wolves retired by day to sleep, Consoling, says, It is a wonder he suspected thieves, That, by the monster forced asunder, Which as the He set his trap among the leaves We're, after all, more scared than hurt. ; And, ere he left the place, But, addeth he, what of the creature's skin \ thus invoked celestial grace : He held his muzzle very near He O king of all the powers divine, What did he whisper in your ear ? Against the rogue but grant me this delight, He gave this caution,—" Never dare That this my trap may catch him in my sight, Again to sell the skin of bear And I, from twenty calves of mine, Its owner has not ceased to wear." 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, XXI.-THE ASS DRESSED IN THE LION'S SKIN. With shivering fright half dead,

Alas ! that man should never be aware in lion's shaggy hide, Clad a Of what may be the meaning of his prayer ! An ass spread terror far and wide, To catch the robber of my flocks, himself And, though a coward brute, king of gods, I pledged a calf to thee : Put all the world to scampering rout If from his clutches thou wilt rescue me, But, by a piece of evil luck, I'll raise my offering to an ox. A portion of an ear outstuck, Which soon reveal'd the error 'Tis thus the master-author tells the stor Of all the panic-terror. Now hear the rival of his glory. Old Martin did his office quick. Surprised were all who did not know the trick, To see that Martin, at his will, Was driving lions to the mill II.—THE LION AND THE HUNTER.

In France, the men are not a few A braggart, lover of the chase, Of whom this fable proves too true Had lost a dog of valued race, Whose valour chiefly doth reside And thought him in a lion's maw. In coat they wear and horse they ride. 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. BOOK VI. The tribute of a sheep I pay, Each month, and where I please I stray. I.—THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION. Out leap'd the lion as he spake, And came that way, with agile feet. Op fables judge not by their face ; The braggart, prompt his flight to take, They give the simplest brute a teacher's place. Cried, Jove, grant a safe retreat Bare precepts inert tedious were and things ; The story gives them life and wings. A danger close at hand But story for the story's sake Of courage is the test.

Were sorry business for the wise ; It shows us who will stand As if, for pill that one should take, Whose legs will run their best. You gave the sugary disguise. For reasons such as these, Full many writers great and good Have written in this frolic mood, HI.—PHOEBUS AND BOREAS. And made their wisdom please.

But tinsel'd style they all have shunn'd with care : Old Boreas and the sun, one day With them one never sees a word to spare. Espied a traveller on his way, Of Phaedrus some have blamed the brevity, Whose dress did happily provide While jEsop uses fewer words than he. Against whatever might betide.

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The time was autumn, when, indeed, His various crops should feel the power All prudent travellers take heed. Of heat or cold, of sun or shower. The rains that then the sunshine dash, And Iris with her splendid sash, Jove yields. The bargain closed, our man Warn one who does not like to soak Rains, blows, and takes the care To wear abroad a good thick cloak. Of all the changes of the air, Our man was therefore well hedight On his peculiar, private plan. With double mantle, strong and tight. His nearest neighbours felt it not, This fellow, said the wind, has meant And all the better was their lot. Their year was good, by grace divine To guard from every ill event ; But little does he wot that I The grain was rich, and full the vine. Can blow him such a blast The renter, failing altogether, That, not a button fast, The next year made quite different weather His cloak shall cleave the sky. And yet the fruit of all his labours Was far inferior to his neighbours'. Come, here's a pleasant game, Sir Sun ! What better could he do ? Wilt play % Said Phoebus, Done ! To Heaven We'll bet between us here He owns at last his want of sense, Which first will take the gear And so is graciously forgiven. From off this cavalier. Hence we conclude that Providence Begin, and shut away Knows better what we need The brightness of my ray. Than we ourselves, indeed. Enough. Our blower, on the bet, SwelPd out his pursy form With all the stuff for storm V.—THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE The thunder, hail, and drenching wet, YOUNG MOUSE.

And all the fury he could muster ; Then, with a very demon's bluster, A youthful mouse, not up to trap, He whistled, whirl' d, and splash'd, Had almost met a sad mishap. And down the torrents dash'd, The story hear him thus relate,

Full many a roof uptearing With great importance, to his mother : He never did before, I pass'd the mountain bounds of this estate, Full many a vessel bearing And off was trotting on another, To wreck upon the shore, Like some young rat with nought to do And all to doff a single cloak. But see things wonderful and new,

But vain the furious stroke ; When two strange creatures came in view. The traveller was stout, mild, benign, The one was and gracious ; And kept the tempest out, The other, turbulent, rapacious, Defied the hurricane, With voice terrific, shrill, and rough,

Defied the pelting rain ; And on his head a bit of stuff And as the fiercer roar'd the blast, That look'd like raw and bloody meat, His cloak the tighter held he fast. Raised up a sort of arms, and beat

The sun broke out, to win the bet ; The air, as if he meant to fly, He caused the clouds to disappear, And bore his plumy tail on high. Refresh' d and warm'd the cavalier, And through his mantle made him sweat, A cock, that just began to crow, Till off it came, of course, As if some nondescript, From far New Holland shipp'd, In less than half an hour ; And yet the sun saved half his power. Was what our mousling pictured so. So much doth mildness more than force. 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, off, (his voice would even scare ghost IV.—JUPITER AND THE FARMER. Scud a !)

And cursed himself and all his house ; Op yore, a farm had Jupiter to rent For, but for him, I should have staid, To advertise it, Mercury was sent. And doubtless an acquaintance made The farmers, far and near, With her who seem'd so mild and good.

Flock'd round, the terms to hear ; Like us, in velvet cloak and hood, And, calling to their aid She wears a tail that's full of grace, The various tricks of trade, A very sweet and humble face, One said 'twas rash a farm to hire No mouse more kindness could desire,

Which would so much expense require ; And yet her eye is full of fire. Another, that, do what you would, I do believe the lovely creature The farm would still be far from good. A friend of rats and mice by nature. While thus, in market style, its faults were told, Her ears, though, like herself, they're bigger, One of the crowd, less wise than bold, Are just like ours in form and figure, Would give so much, on this condition, To her I was approaching, when, That Jove would yield him altogether Aloft on what appear'd his den, The choice and making of his weather, The other scream'd,—and off I fled. That, instantly on his decision, My son, his cautious mother said,

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That sweet one was the cat, Misfortune, were its only use The mortal foe of mouse and rat, The claims of folly to reduce, Who seeks by smooth deceit, And bring men down to sober reason, Her appetite to treat. Would be a blessing in its season. So far the other is from that, We yet may eat His dainty meat VIII.—THE OLD Whereas the cruel cat, MAN AND THE ASS. Whene'er she can, devours An old man, riding on his ass, No other meat than ours. Had found a spot of thrifty grass, Remember while you live, And there turn'd loose his weary beast. It is by looks that men deceive. Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast, Flung up his heels, and caper'd round, Then roll'd and rubb'cl upon the ground. And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd, VI.— FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE THE And many clean ANIMALS. a spot made. Arm'd men came on them as he fed : Let's fly, in haste the old Left kingless by the lion's death, man said. And wherefore so ? the ass replied. The beasts once met, our story saith, With heavier burdens will they ride ? Some fit successor to install. No, said the man, already Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place, started. Then, cried the ass, as he departed, The crown was brought, and, taken from its case, I'll stay, and be no matter whose And being tried by turns on all, — ; Save you yourself, and leave The heads of most were found too small me loose. But let me tell you, ere Some horned were, and some too big you go, ; (I speak plain French, you know,) Not one would fit the regal gear. My master is my only foe. For ever ripe for such a rig, The monkey, looking very queer, Approach'd with antics and grimaces, And, after scores of monkey faces, IX.—THE STAG SEEING HIMSELF IN T'HE With what would seem a gracious stoop, WATER. Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop. Beside a placid, crystal flood, The beasts, diverted with the thing, A stag admired the branching wood Did homage to him as their king. That high upon his forehead stood, The fox alone the vote regretted, But gave his Maker little thanks But yet in public never fretted. For what he call'd his spindle shanks. When he his compliments had paid What limbs are these for such a head ! — To royalty, thus newly made, So mean and slim ! with grief he said. Great sire, I know a place, said he, My glorious head o'ertops Where lies conceal'd a treasure, The branches of the copse Which, by the right of royalty, ; My legs are my disgrace. Should bide your royal pleasure. As thus he talk'd, a bloodhound gave him chase. The king lack'd not an appetite To save his life he flew For such financial pelf, Where forests thickest grew. And, not to lose his royal right, His horns, pernicious ornament ! Ran straight to see it for himself. — Arresting him where'er he went, It was a trap, and he was caught. Did unavailing render Said Renard, Would you have it thought, What else, in such a strife, You ape, that you can fill a throne, Had saved his precious life And guard the rights of all, alone, His legs, as fleet as slender. Not knowing how to guard your own ? Obliged to yield, he cursed the gear The beasts all gather' d from the farce, Which nature gave him every year. That stuff for kings is very scarce.

Too much the beautiful we prize ;

The useful, often, we despise : Yet oft, as happen' d to the stag, VII.—THE MULE BOASTING OF HIS GENEALOGY. The former doth to ruin drag.

A prelate's mule of noble birth was proud, And talk'd, incessantly and loud, X.—THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. Of nothing but his dam, the mare, — the swiftness of a dart Whose mighty deeds by him recounted were, To win a race, Availeth not without a timely start. This had she done, and had been present there,- and tortoise are my witnesses. By which her son made out his claim The hare Said tortoise to, the swiftest thing that is, To notice on the scroll of Fame. I'll bet that you'll not reach so soon as I Too proud, when young, to bear a doctor's pill tree dn yonder hill we spy. When old, he had to turn a mill. The soon ! Why, madam, are you frantic 2 As there they used his limbs to bind, So Replied the creature, with an antic His sire, the ass, was brought to mind. ;

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Pray take, your senses to restore, Our present lot is aye the worst. A grain or two of hellebore. Our foolish prayers the skies infest.

Say, said the tortoise, what you will ; Were Jove to gi'ant all we request, I dare you to the wager still. The din renew'd, his head would burst.

'Twas done ; the stakes were paid, And near the goal tree laid Of what, is not a question for this place, XH.—THE SEN AND THE FROGS. Nor who it was that judged the race. Our hare had scarce five jumps to make, Rejoicing on then* tyrant's wedding-day, Of such as he is wont to take, The people drown'd their care in drink When, starting just before their beaks ; While from the general joy did ^Esop shrink, He leaves the hounds at leisure, And show'd its folly in this way. Thence till the kalends of the Greeks, The sun, said he, once took it in his head The sterile heath to measure. To have a partner for his bed. Thus having time to browse and doze, From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs, And list which way the zephyr blows, Up rose the wailings of the frogs. He makes himself content to wait, What shall we do, should he have progeny ? And let the tortoise go her gait Said they to Destiny ; In solemn, senatorial state. One sun we scarcely can endure, She starts ; she moils on, modestly and lowly, And half-a-dozen, we are sure, And with a prudent wisdom hastens slowly ; Will dry the very sea. But he, meanwhile, the victory despises, Adieu to marsh and fen ! Thinks lightly of such prizes, Our race will perish then, Believes it for his honour Or be obliged to fix To take late start and gain upon her. Their dwelling in the Styx ! feeding, sitting his So, at ease, For such an humble animal, He meditates of what you please, The fros;, I take it, reason'd well. Till his antagonist he sees

Approach the goal ; then starts,

Away like lightning darts : vainly XIII.—THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT. But does he run ; The race is by the tortoise won. countryman, as iEsop certifies, Cries she, My senses do I lack ? A A charitable man, but not so wise, What boots your boasted swiftness now ? One day in winter found, You're beat ! and yet, you must allow, 'd the I bore my house upon my back. Stretch on 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, XI.—THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS. And, thinking not what recompense For such a charity would come, A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny Before the fire he stretch' d him, Of being made to rise before the dawn. And back to being fetch'd him. The cocks their matins have not sung, said he, The snake scarce felt the genial heat Ere I am up and gone. Before his heart with native malice beat. And all for what ? To market herbs, it seems. He raised his head, thrust out his forked tongue,

Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams ! Coil'd up, and at his benefactor sprung.

Fate, moved by such a prayer, Ungrateful wretch ! said he, is this the way Sent him a currier's load to bear, My care and kindness you repay ? Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, Now you shall die. With that his axe he takes, They almost choked the foolish beast- And with two blows three serpents makes. I wish me with my former lord, he said ; Trunk, head, and tail were separate snakes ; For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, And, leaping up with all their might, If on the watch, I caught They vainly sought to reunite. A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought. lovely to kind But, in this horrid place, I find 'Tis good and be ; not blind chance or windfall of — But charity should be ; No the kind ; ingrate, Or if, indeed, I do, For as to wretchedness The cruel blows I rue. You cannot raise it from its wretched state. Anon it came to pass He was a collier's ass. Still more complaint. What now ? said Fate, XIV.—THE SICK LION AND THE FOX. Quite out of patience. If on this jackass I must wait, Sick in his den, we understand, What will become of kings and nations ? The king of beasts sent out command Has none but he aught here to tease him ? That of his vassals every sort Have I no business but to please him ? Should send some deputies to court And Fate had cause ;—for all are so. With promise well to treat Unsatisfied while here below Each deputy and suite ;

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On faith of lion, duly written, None should be scratch 'd, much less be bitten. XVIL—THE DOG THAT DROPPED THE SUB- The royal will was executed, STANCE FOR THE SHADOW. And some from every tribe deputed The foxes, only, would not come. This world is full of shadow-chasers, Most easily deceived. One thus explain'd their choice of home : Of those who seek the court, we learn, Should I enumerate these racers, The tracks upon the sand I should not be believed. Have one direction, and I send them all to iEsop's dog, Not one betokens a return. Which, crossing water on a log, Espied the meat he bore, This fact begetting some distrust, below ; To seize its image, let it go His majesty at present must ; in Excuse us from his great levee. Plunged ; to reach the shore was glad, plighted is With neither what he hoped, nor what he'd had. His word good, no doubt ; But while how beasts get in we see, We do not see how they get out.

XVIIL—THE CARTER IN THE SURE.

XV.—THE FOWLER, THE HAWK, AND THE The Phaeton who drove a load of hay LARK. Once found his cart bemired.

Poor man ! the spot was far away From wrongs of wicked men we draw From human help—retired, Excuses for our own : In some rude country place, Such is the universal law. In Brittany, as near as I can trace, Would you have mercy shown, Near Quimper Corentan, Let yours be clearly known. A town that poet never sang, Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, A fowler's mirror served to snare When she would rouse the man to special wrath. The little tenants of the air. May Heaven preserve us from that route ! A lark there saw her pretty face, But to our carter, hale and stout : And was approaching to the place. Fast stuck his cart ; he swore his worst, A hawk, that sailed on high And, fill'd with rage extreme, Like vapour in the sky, The mud-holes now he cursed, Came down, as still as infant's breath, And now he cursed his team, On her who sang so near her death. And now his cart and load, She thus escaped the fowler's steel, Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. The hawk's malignant claws to feel. Upon the god he call'd at length, While in his cruel way, Most famous through the world for strength. The pirate pluck'd his prey, help Hercules ! cried O, me, he ; Upon himself the net was sprung. For if thy back of yore fowler, pray'd he in the hawkish tongue, This burly planet bore, Release me in thy clemency ! Thy arm can set me free. I never did a wrong to thee. This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke The man replied, 'Tis true ; A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke : And did the lark to you ? The suppliant must himself bestir, Ere Hercules will aid confer. Look wisely in the proper quarter,

To see what hindrance can be found ; XVI.—THE HORSE AND THE ASS. Remove the execrable mud and mortar, Which, axle- deep, besets thy wheels around. In such a world, all men, of every grade, Thy sledge and crowbar take, that Should the other And pry me up stone, or break ; each kindly aid ; For, if beneath misfortune's goad Now fill that rut upon the other side. A neighbour falls, on you will fall his load. Hast done it ? Yes, the man replied. I'll Well, said the voice, aid thee now ; Take up thy whip. I have but, how 2 There jogg'd in company an ass and horse ; harness did the last My cart glides on with ease ! Nought but his endorse ; The other bore a load that crush'd him down, I thank thee, Hercules. team, rejoin'd the light And begg'd the horse a little help to give, Thy voice, has ado ; Or otherwise he could not reach the town. So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too. is civil, This prayer, said he, 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 : XIX.—THE CHARLATAN.

And saw his wrong too late ; For on his own proud back The world has never lack'd its charlatans; They put the ass's pack, More than themselves have lack'd their plans. And over that, beside, One sees them on the stage at tricks They put the ass's hide. Which mock the claims of sullen Styx.

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38 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book vi.

What talents in the streets they post ! In simple tent or leafy bower, One of them used to boast Make little work for such a power. Such mastership of eloquence That she might know exactly where That he could make the greatest dunce Her direful aid was in demand, Another Tully Cicero Renown flew courier through the land,

In all the arts that lawyers know. Reporting each dispute with care ; sirs, dunce, country clown, Than she, outrunning Peace, Ay, a a was quickly there ; The greatest blockhead of your town, And if she found a spark of ire, Nay more, an animal, an ass, Was sure to blow it to a fire. The stupidest that nibbles grass, At length, Renown got out of patience Needs only through my course to pass, At random hurrying o'er the nations, And he shall wear the gown And, not without good reason, thought With credit, honour, and renown. A goddess, like her mistress, ought

The prince heard of it, call'd the man, thus spake : To have some fix'd and certain home, stable My holds a steed To which her customers might come ; Of the Arcadian breed, For now they often search'd in vain. Of which an orator I wish to make. With due location, it was plain Well, sire, you can, She might accomplish vastly more, Replied our man. And more in season than before. At once his majesty To find, howe'er, the right facilities,

Paid the tuition fee. Was harder, then, than now it is ; Ten years must roll, and then the learned ass For then there were no nunneries. Should his examination pass, So, Hymen's inn at last assign'd, According to the rules Thence lodged the goddess to her mind. Adopted in the schools ; If not, his teacher was to tread the air, « With balter'd neck, above the public square, His rhetoric bound on his back, XXL—THE YOUXG WEOOW. And on his head the ears of jack. told rhetorician, A courtier the A husband's death brings always sighs ; With bows and terms polite, The widow sobs, sheds tears—then dries. would not miss the sight He Of Time the sadness borrows wings ;

Of that last pendent exhibition ; And Time returning pleasiu'e brings. For that his grace and dignity Between the widow of a year

Would well become such high degree ; And of a clay, the difference And, on the point of being hung, Is so immense, He would bethink him of his tongue, That very few who see her And show the glory of his art, Would think the laughing dame The power to melt the hardest heart, And weeping one the same. And wage a war with time The one puts on repulsive action, By periods sublime The other shows a strong attraction. A pattern speech for orators thus leaving, one gives up to sighs, or true or false The ; Whose work is vulgarly call'd thieving. The same sad note is heard, whoever calls.

Ah ! was the charlatan's reply, Her grief is inconsolable,

Ere that, the king, the ass, or I, They say ; not so our fable, Shall, one or other of us, die. Or, rather, not so says the truth. And reason good had he ; To other worlds a husband went We count on life most foolishly, left his wife in prime of youth. Though hale and hearty we may be. And his dying couch she bent, In each ten years, death cuts down one in three. Above And cried, My love, wait for me !

My soul would gladly go with thee ! -»• (But yet it did not go.) The fair one's sire, a prudent man, XX.—DISCORD. Check'd not the current of her woe. At last he kindly thus began : The goddess Discord, having made, on high, My child, your grief should have its bound. Among the gods a general grapple, What boots it him beneath the ground And thence a lawsuit, for an apple, That you should drown your charms \ , Was turn'd out, bag and baggage, from the sky. Live for the living, not the dead. The animal call'd man, with open arms, I don't propose that you be led Hymen's arms Received the goddess of such naughty charms, At once to ; Herself and Whether-or-no, her brother, But give me leave, in proper time, With Thine-and-mine, her stingy mother. To rearrange the broken chime In this, the lower universe, With one who is as good, at least, respects, as the deceased. Our hemisphere she chose to curse : In all sigh'd, cloister For reasons good she did not please Alas ! she the vows To visit our antipodes Befit me better than a spouse. Folks rude and savage like the beasts, The father left the matter there. fair Who, wedding free from forms and priests, About one month thus mourn'd the J ; — , — : —— —

BOOK VII.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 39

Another month, her weeds arranged ; Ah ! who can boast a taste so true, Each diy some robe or lace she changed. Of beauty or of grace, Till mourning dresses served to grace, In either thought or face 1 And took of ornament the place. For words and looks are equal charms in you. The .Tolic band of loves Upon a theme so sweet, the truth to tell, Came flocking back like doves. My muse would gladly dwell Jokes, laughter, and the dance, But this employ to others I must yield";

' The native growth of France, A greater master claims the field. Had finally their turn For me, fan' lady, 'twere enough And thus, by night and morn, Your name should be my wall and roof. She plunged, to tell the truth, Protect henceforth the favour'd book Deep in the fount of youth. Through which for second life I look. Her sire no longer fear'd In your auspicious light, These lines, in envy's spite, The dead so much endear'd ; But, as he never spoke, Will gain the glorious meed, all Herself the silence broke : That the world shall read. Where is that youthful spouse, said she, 'Tis not that I deserve such fame ; Whom, sir, you lately promised me \ I only ask in Fable's name, (You know what credit that should claim ;) EPILOGUE. And, if successfully I sue, A fane will be to Fable due,

Here check we our career : A thing I would not build—except for you. Long books I greatly fear. stuff I would not quite exhaust my ; The flower of subjects is enough. To me, the time is come, it seems, I.—THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE. To draw my breath for other themes. sorest ill that hath Love, tyrant of my life, commands The Heaven That other work be on my bauds. Sent on this lower world in wrath, I dare not disobey. The plague (to call it by its name,) Once more shall Psyche be my lay. One single day of which Pluto's I'm cai'Pd by Damon to portray Would ferryman enrich, Her sorrows and her joys. Waged war on beasts, both wild and tame. They died not all, but all were sick : I yield : perhaps, while she employs, will catch a richer No hunting now, by force or trick, My muse glow ; save what might so soon expire. And well if this my labour'd strain To food excited their desire Shall be the last and only pain No ; Her spouse shall cause me here below. 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 : BOOK VII. My friends, I do believe This awful scourge, for which we grieve. TO MADAME DE MONTESPAN. Is for our sins a punishment Most righteously by Heaven sent.

The apologue is from the immortal gods ; Let us our guiltiest beast resign, Or, if the gift of man it is, A sacrifice to wrath divine. Its author merits apotheosis. Perhaps this offering, truly small, Whoever magic genius lauds May gain the life and health of all. Will do what in him lies By history we find it noted To raise this art's inventor to the skies. That lives have been just so devoted. It hath the potence of a charm, Then let us all turn eyes within, On dulness lays a conquering arm, And ferret out the hidden sin. Subjects the mind to its control, Himself let no one spare nor flatter, And works its will upon the soul. But make clean conscience in the matter. O lady, arm'd with equal power, For me, my appetite has play'd the glutton If e'er within celestial bower, Too much and often upon mutton.

With messmate gods reclined, What harm had e'er my victims done 2 My muse ambrosially hath dined, I answer, truly, None. Lend me the favour of a smile Perhaps, sometimes, by hunger press'd, On this her playful toil. I've eat the shepherd with the rest.

If you support, the tooth of time will shun I yield myself, if need there be ; And let my work the envious years outrun. And yet I think, in equity, If sins authors would themselves survive, Each should confess his with me ; To gain your suffrage they should strive. For laws of right and justice cry, verses wait to guiltiest should die. On you my get their worth ; The alone To you my beauties all will owe their birth,- Sire, said the fox, your majesty For beauties you will recognise Is humbler than a king should be. Invisible to other eyes. And over-squeamish in the case.

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40 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book vii.

? What ! eating stupid sheep a crime Too cold, too hot, —too black, too white, No, never, sire, at any time. Were on her tongue from morn till night.

It rather was an act of grace, The servants mad and madder grew ; A mark of honour to their race. The husband knew not what to do.

And as to shepherds, one may swear, 'Twas, Dear, you never think or care ;

The fate your majesty describes, And, Dear, that price we cannot be.tr ;

Is recompense less full than fair And, Dear, you never stay at home ;

For such usurpers o'er our tribes. And, Dear, I wish you would just come ; Till, finally, such ceaseless dearing Thus Renard glibly spoke, Upon her husband's patience wearing, And loud applause from flatterers broke. Back to her sire's he sent his wife, neither tiger, boar, bear, Of nor To taste the sweets of country life ; Did any keen inquirer dare To dance at will the country jigs, To ask for crimes of high degree And feed the turkeys, geese, and pigs. The fighters, biters, scratchers, all In course of time, he hoped his bride sin were free From every mortal ; Might have her temper mollified ; The very dogs, both great and small, Which hope he duly put to test. Were saints, as far as do^s could be. His wife recall' d, said he, How went with you your rural rest,

The ass, confessing in his turn, From vexing cares and fashions free ? Thus spoke in tones of deep concern : Its peace and quiet did you gain,

I happen'd through a mead to pass Its innocence without a stain \ it's owners, were at mass The monks, ; Enough of all, said she ; but then Keen hunger, leisure, tender grass, To see those idle, worthless men And add to these the devil too, Neglect the flocks, it gave me pain. All tempted me the deed to do. I told them, plainly, what I thought,

I browsed the bigness of my tongue ; And thus their hatred quickly bought ; Since truth must out, I own it wrong. For which I do not care—not I. Ah, madam, did her spouse reply, this, On a hue and cry arose, If still your temper's so morose, As if the beasts were all his foes : And tongue so virulent, that those A wolf, haranguing lawyer-wise, Who only see you morn and night Denounced the ass for sacrifice Are quite grown weary of the sight, The bald-pate, scabby, ragged lout, What, then, must be your servants' case, By whom the plague had come, no doubt. Who needs must see you face to face, His fault was judged a hanging crime. Throughout the day ? What ! eat another's grass ? shame ! And what must be the harder lot The noose of rope and death sublime, Of him , I pray, For that offence, were all too tame ! Whose days and nights soon Grizzle felt the And poor same. With you must be by marriage rights ? Return you to your father's cot. Thus human courts acquit the strong, If I recall you in my life, And doom the weak, as therefore wrong Or even wish for such a wife, Let Heaven, in my hereafter, send * Two such, to tease me without end !

II.—THE ILL-MARRIED.

If worth and beauty always wedded were, III.—THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD. To-morrow I would seek wife a ; But since divorce has come between the pair, The sage Levantines have a tale Fair forms not being homes of souls as fair, About a rat that weary grew assail, Excuse my choice of single life. Of all the cares which life And to a Holland cheese withdrew. Of married folks a multitude His solitude was there profound, I've seen, but still have never rued Extending through his world so round. within Or long'd to quit my solitude. Our hermit lived on that ; Yet of our race almost four quarters And soon his industry had been Brave Hymen's torch—intrepid martyrs. With claws and teeth so good, Four quarters, also, soon repent That in his novel hermitage, Too late, however, to recant. He had in store, for wants of age, My tale makes one of these poor fellows, Both house and livelihood. Who sought relief from marriage vows, What more could any rat desire ? Send back again his tedious spouse, He grew fair, fat, and round. Contentious, covetous, and jealous. God's blessings thus redound With nothing pleased or satisfied, To those who in His vows retire. This restless, comfort-killing bride One day this personage devout, Some fault in every one descried. Whose kindness none might doubt, Her good man went to bed too soon, Was ask'd, by certain delegates Or lay in bed till almost noon. That came from Rat-United-States,

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book vii.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 41

For some small aid, for they Get what you can, and trust for the rest ; To foreign parts were on their way, The whole is oft lost by seeking the best.

For succour in the great cat-war. Above all things beware of disdain : Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, Where, at most, you have little to gain. Their whole republic drain'd and poor, The people are many that make No morsel in their scrips they bore. Every day this sad mistake. Slight boon they craved, of succour sure 'Tis not for the herons I put this case, In days at utmost three or four. Ye featherless people, of the human race. My friends, the hermit said, —List to another tale as true, To worldly things I'm dead. And you'll hear the lesson brought home to you. How can a poor recluse

To such a mission be of use ? t What can he do but pray That God will aid it on its way V.—THE MAID. And so, my friends, it is my prayer That God will have you in his care. His well-fed saintship said no more, A certain maid, as proud as fair, But in their faces shut the door. A husband thought to find What think you, reader, is the service Exactly to her mind young, genteel in ail*, For which I use this niggard rat ? Well-form'd and

Not cold nor jealous ; —mark this well. To paint a monk ? No, but a dervise. A monk, I think, however fat, Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle Must be more bountiful than that. 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. IY.—THE a-wooinjr. HERON. There came men of note ; The maiden thought them all, One day,—no matter when or where, By half, too mean and small.

A long-legg"d heron chanced to fare They maiuw me ! the creatures dote :

By a certain river's brink, Alas ! poor souls ! their case I pity. With his long, sharp beak (Here mark the bearing of the beauty.)

Helved on his slender neck ; Some were less delicate than witty 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. Some had the nose too short or long The water was clear and still, In others something else was wrong The carp and the pike there at will Which made each in the maiden's eyes Pursued their silent fun, An altogether worthless prize. Turning up, ever and anon, Profound contempt is aye the vice A golden side to the sun. Which springs from being over-nice, With ease might the heron have made Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then Great profits in his fishing trade. Came offers from inferior men. So near came the scaly fry, The maid, more scornful than before, They might be caught by the passer-by. Took credit to her tender hoart But he thought he better might For giving them an open door. Wait for a better appetite They think me much in haste to part

For he lived by rule, and could not eat, With independence ! God be thank'd Except at his hours, the best of meat. My lonely nights bring no regret Anon his appetite shall I pine, or greatly fret, return'd once more ; Nor So, approaching again the shore, Should I with ancient maids be rank'd. He saw some tench taking their leaps, Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair Now and then, from their lowest deeps. Age made them only thoughts that were. With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, Adieu to lovers : —passing years He turn'd away from such food as that. Awaken doubts and chilling fears.

What, tench for a heron ! poh ! Regret, at last, brings up the train. I scorn the thought, and let them go. Day after day she sees, with pain, refused, The tench there came a gudgeon ; Some smile or charm take final flight, For all that, said the bird, I budge on. And leave the features of a " fright." I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, Then came a hundred sorts of paint For such mean little fishes as these. But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint,

He did it for less ; Avail' d to hide the cause of grief, For it came to pass, Or bar out Time, that graceless thief. not That another fish could he see ; A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, And, at last, so hungry was he, May be repaired and made a new one.

That he thought it of some avail Alas ! for ruins of the face To find on the bank a single snail. No such rebuilding e'er takes place.

Such is the sure result Her daintiness now changed its tune ;

Of being too difficult. Her mirror told her, Marry soon ! Would you be strong and great, So did a certain wish within, Learn to accommodate. With more of secrecy than sin,

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42 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book VII.

A wish that dwells with even prudes, Dear Mediocrity, return ! Annihilating solitudes. The prayer was granted as we learn. This maiden's choice was past belief, Two wishes thus expended, She soothing down her restless grief, Had simply ended And smoothing it of every ripple, In bringing them exactly where, By marrying a cripple. 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 VI.—THE WISHES. did they However, ere he went away, To profit by his offer kind, Within the Great Mogul's domains there are They ask'd for wisdom, wealth of mind, Familiar sprites : of much domestic use A treasure void of care and sorrow sweep the house, take tidy They and a care A treasure fearless of the morrow, 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 VII—THE LION'S COURT. Work'd noiselessly and well To master, mistress, garden, bore His lion majesty would know, one day, love that time toil A and outwore, What bestial tribes were subject to his sway. And bound him like a spell. He therefore gave his vassals, all, Did friendly zephyrs blow, By deputies a call. The demon's pains to aid ? Despatching everywhere (For so they do, 'tis said.) A written circular, I I own do not know. Which bore his seal, and did import But for himself he rested not, His majesty would hold his court And richly bless'd his master's lot. A month most splendidly ; What mark'd his strength of love, A feast would open his levee, He lived a fixture on the place, Which done, Sir Jocko's sleight In spite of tendency to rove Would give the court delight. So natural to his race. By such sublime magnificence But brother sprites conspiring The king would show his power immense. With importunity untiring, were they gather'd all So teased their goblin chief, that he, Now Within the royal hall Of his caprice or policy, such a hall ! The charnel scent Our sprite commanded to attend And Would make the strongest nerves relent. A house in Norway's farther end, The bear put up his paw to close Whose roof was snow-clad through the year, The double access of his nose. And shelter' d human kind with deer. The act had better been omitted Before departing to his hosts ; His throne at once the monarch quitted, Thus spake this best of busy ghosts : — And sent to Pluto's court the bear, To foreign parts I'm forced to go ! To show his delicacy there. For what sad fault I do not know ; The ape approved the cruel deed, But go I must ; a month's delay, thorough flatterer by breed. Or week's perhaps, and I'm away. A He praised the prince's wrath and claws Seize time ; three wishes make at will ; He praised the odour and its cause. For three I'm able to fulfil Judged by the fragrance of that cave, No more. Quick at their easy task, The amber of the Baltic wave, Abundance first these wishers ask The rose, the pink, the hawthorn bank, Abundance, with her stores unlock'd Might with the vulgar garlic rank. Barns, coffers, cellars, larder, stock'd The mark his flattery overshot, Corn, cattle, wine, and money, And made him share poor Bruin's lot, The overflow of milk and honey. This lion playing in his way, But what to do with all this wealth ! The part of Don Caligula. What inventories, cares, and worry ! The fox approach'd. Now, said the king, What wear of temper and of health ! Apply your nostrils to this thing, Both lived in constant, slavish hurry. And let me hear, without disguise, Thieves took by plot, and lords by loan ; The judgment of a beast so wise. The king by tax, the poor by tone. The fox replied, Your Majesty will please Thus felt the curses which Excuse and here he took good care to sneeze ;- Arise from being rich, — Afflicted with a dreadful cold, Remove this affluence, they pray Your majesty need not be told The poor are happier than they My sense of smell is mostly gone. Whose riches make them slaves. Go, treasures, to the winds danger thus withdrawn, and waves ; From Come, goddess of the quiet breast, He teaches us the while, Who sweet'nest toil with rest, That one, to gain the smile

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Of kings, must hold the middle place On foot, outside, at leisure trode. all 'Tvvixt blunt rebuke and fulsome praise ; The team, weary, stopp'd and blow'd And sometimes use with easy grace, Whereon there did a fly approach, The language of the Norman race*. And, with a vastly business air. Cheer'd up the horses with his buzz, Now prick'd them here, now prick'd them there, As neatly as a jockey does, THE PIGEONS. VIIL—THE VULTURES AND And thought the while —he knew 'twas so He made the team and carriage go, Mars once made havoc in the air . On carriage-pole sometimes alighting Some cause aroused a quarrel there Or driver's nose—and biting. Among the birds ; not those that sing, — And when the whole did get in motion, The courtiers of the merry Spring, Confirm'd and settled in the notion, And by their talk, in leafy bowers, . He took, himself, the total glory, Of loves they feel, enkindle ours ; Flew back and forth in wondrous hurry, Nor those which Cupid's mother yokes And, as he buzz'd about the cattle, To whirl on high her golden spokes ; Seem'd like a sergeant in a battle, But naughty hawk and vulture folks, The files and squadrons leading on Of hooked beak and talons keen. To where the victory is won. The carcass of a dog, 'tis said, Thus charged with all the commonweal, Had to this civil carnage led. This single fly began to feel Blood rain'd upon the swarded green, Responsibility too great, And valiant deeds were done, I ween. And cares, a grievous, crushing weight But time and breath would surely fail And made complaint that none would aid To give the fight in full detail The horses up the tedious hill Suffice to say, that chiefs were slain, The monk his prayers at leisure said-— And heroes strow'd the sanguine plain, Fine time to pray!—the dames, at will, Till old Prometheus, in his chains, Were singing songs— not greatly needed ! Began to hope an end of pains. Thus in their ears he sharply sang, 'Twas sport to see the battle rage, And notes of indignation ran, And valiant hawk with hawk engage Notes, after all, not greatly heeded. 'Twas pitiful to see them fall, Erelong the coach was on the top : Torn, bleeding, weltering, gasping, all. Now, said the fly, my hearties, stop Force, courage, cunning, all were plied ; And breathe ; — I've got you up the hill Intrepid troops on either side And, Messrs. Horses, let me say, No effort spared to populate 1 need not ask you if you will The dusky realms of hungry Fate. A proper compensation pay. This woful strife awoke compassion Within another feather'd nation, Thus certain ever-bustling noddies Of iris neck and tender heart. Are seen in every great affair They tried their hand at mediation Important, swelling, busy-bodies, To reconcile the foes, or part. And bores 'tis easier to bear The pigeon people duly chose Than chase them from their needless care. 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. X.—THE DAIRYWOMAN AND THE POT OF MILK. Alas ! the people dearly paid

Who such pacification made ! A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, Those cursed hawks at once pursued Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town The harmless pigeons, slew and ate, Short clad and light, with speed she went, Till towns and fields were desolate. Not fearing any accident Small prudence had the friends of peace Indeed, to be the nimbler tripper, To pacify such foes as these ! Her dress that day, The truth to say, The safety of the rest requires Was simple petticoat and slipper. The bad should flesh each other's spears : And, thus bedight, Whoever peace with them desires Good Peggy, light,— Had better set them by the ears. Her gains already counted, Laid out the cash At single dash, IX.—THE COACH AND THE FLY. Which to a hundred eggs amounted. Three nests she made, Upon a sandy, uphill road, Which, by the aid Which naked in the sunshine glow'd, Of diligence and care were hatch'd. Six lusty horses drew a coach. To raise the chicks, Dames, monks, and invalids, its load, I'll easy fix, Said she, beside our cottage thatch'd. * The Normans are proverbial among the French for The fox must get the oracular non-committal of their responses. — Un Normand, says the proverb, a son dit et son dddit. More cunning yet,

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44 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book vit.

Or leave enough to buy ay The coach upset, and dash'd to pieces, With little care Cut short these thoughts of wine and nieces And any fare, There lay poor John with broken head,

He'll grow quite fat and big ; Beneath the coffin of the dead ! And then the price His rich parishioner in lead Will be so nice, Drew on the priest the doom

For which the pork will sell Of riding with him to the tomb ! 'Twill go quite hard But in our yard The Pot of Milk, and fate I'll bring a cow and calf to dwell Of Curate Cabbagepate, A calf to frisk among the flock ! As emblems, do but give The thought made Peggy do the same The historv of most that live. And down at once the milk-pot came, And perislrd with the shock.

Calf, cow, and pig, and chicks, adieu ! Your mistress' face is sad to view ; XII.—THE MAX VTHO RAX AFTER FORTUNE. She gives a tear to fortune spilt ; AND THE MAN WHO AVaITED FOR Then with the downcast look of guilt, HER IN HIS BED. Home to her husband empty goes, Somewhat in danger of his blows. Who joins not with his restless race

To give Dame Fortune eager chase ? Who buildeth not, sometimes, in air 0, had I but some lofty perch, His cots, or seats, or castles fair ! From which to view the panting crowd From kings to dairywomen, all, — Of care-worn dreamers, poor and proud, The wise, the foolish, great and small, As on they hurry in the search, Each thinks his waking dream the best. From realm to realm, o'er land and water, Some flattering error fills the breast :

Of Fate's fantastic, fickle daught jr ! The world with all its wealth is ours, Ah ! slaves sincere of flying phantom ! Its honours, dames, and loveliest bower? Just as their goddess they would c Instinct with valour, when alone, The jilt divine eludes their grasp, I hurl the monarch from his throne ; And flits away to Bantam ! The people, glad to see him dead, Poor fellows ! I bewail their lot. Elect me monarch in his stead, And here's the comfort of my ditl And diadems rain on my head. For fools the mark of wrath are not Some accident then calls me back. So much, I'm sure, as pity. And I'm no more than simple That man, say they, and feed their hope,

Raised cabbages—and now he*s pope ! XL—THE CERATE AND THE CORPSE. Don't we deserve as rich a prize ? Ay, richer ? But hath Fortune eyes ! going slowly, sadly, A dead man And then the popedom, is it worth To occupy his last abode, The price that must be given ] — A curate by him, rather gladly. Ftepose ? —the sweetest bliss of earth, Did holy service on the road. And, ages since, of gods in heaven ! Within a coach the dead was borne, 'Tis rarely Fortune's favourites A robe around him, duly worn, Enjoy this cream of all delights. Of which I wot he was not proud Seek not the dame, and she will you That ghostly garment call'd a shroud. A truth which of her sex is true. In summer's blaze and winter's blast, That is changeless—'tis last. robe the Snug in a country town The curate, with his priestly dress on, A pah of friends were settled down. Recited all the church's prayers. One sigh'd unceasingly to find The psalm, the verse, response, lesson, and A fortune better to his mind, In fullest style of such affairs. And, as he chanced his friend to meet, Sir Corpse, we beg you, not do fear Proposed to quit their dull retreat. A lack of such things on your bier ; No prophet can to honour come, They'll give abundance every way, Said he, unless he quits his home Provided only that ; you pay. Let's seek our fortune far and wide. The Reverend John Cabbagepate Seek, if you please, his friend replied ; Watch'd o'er the corpse, as if it were For one, I do not wish to see A treasure, needing guardian care ; A better clime or destiny. And all the while his looks elate, I leave the search and prize to you ; This language seem'd to hold : Your restless humour please pursue ! dead will pay so The much in gold, You'll soon come back again. So much in lights of molten wax, I vow to nap it here till then.

So in other sorts of tax : much The enterprising, or ambitious, With all he hoped to buy a cask of wine, Or. if you please, the avaricious, The best which thereabouts produced the vine. Betook him to the road. A pretty niece, on whom he doted, The morrow brought him to a place And eke his chambermaid, should be promoted, The flaunting goddess ought to grace being newly petticoated. By As her particular abode

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I mean the court whereat he staid, And plans for seizing Fortune laid. XIII.—THE TWO COCKS. He rose, and dress'd, and dined, and went to cocks bed, Two in peace were living, when war was kindled Exactly as the fashion led A by a hen. love, thou bane of ! 'twas thine In short, he did whate'er he could, O Troy The blood of But never found the promised goodc men and gods to shed Enough to turn the Xanthus red Said he, Now somewhere else I'll try As old Port wine ! And yet I fail'd I know not why ; And long the battle doubtful stood : is For Fortune here much at home ; (I mean the battle of the cocks To this and that I see her come, ;) They gave each other fearful shocks Astonishingly kind to some. The fame spread o'er the neighbourhood, And, truly, it is hard to see And gather'd all the crested brood. The reason why she slips from me. And Helens more than one, of plumage bright, 'Tis true, perhaps, as I've been told, Led off the victor of that bloody fight. That spirits here may be too bold. The vanquish'd, drooping, fled, To courts and courtiers all I bid adieu ; Conceal' d his batter'd head, Deceitful shadows they pursue. And in a dark retreat The dame has temples in Surat Bewail'd his sad defeat. I'll go and see them—that is flat. His loss of glory and the prize To say so was t' embark at once. His rival now enjoy'd before his eyes. O, human hearts are made of bronze ! While this he every day beheld, His must have been of adamant, His hatred kindled, courage swell'd : Beyond the power of Death to daunt, He whet his beak, and flapp'd his wings, Who ventured first this route to try, And meditated dreadful things. And all its frightful risks defy. Waste rage ! His rival flew upon a roof 'Tvvas more than once our venturous wight And crow'd to give his victory proof. Did homeward turn his aching sight, hawk this boasting heard. When pirates, rocks, and calms and storms, A Now perish'd all his pride, Presented death in frightful forms As suddenly he died Death sought with pains on distant shores, Beneath that savage bird. Which soon as wish'd for would have come, In consequence of this reverse, Had he not left the peaceful doors The vanquish'd sallied from his hole, Of his despised but blessed home. And took the harem, master sole, Arrived, at length, in Hindostan, For moderate penance not the worse. The people told our wayward man Imagine the congratulation, That Fortune, ever void of plan, The proud and stately leading, Dispensed her favours in Japan. Gallanting, coaxing, feeding, And on he went, the weary sea Of wives almost a nation. His vessel bearing lazily. 'Tis thus that Fortune loves to flee This lesson, taught by savage men, The insolent by victory. Was after all his only gain : We should mistrust her when we beat, Contented in thy country stay, Lest triumph lead us to defeat. 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. XIV.—THE INGRATITUDE AND INJUSTICE OF Renouncing his ungrateful course, MEN TOWARDS FORTUNE. He hasten'd back with all his force ; A trader on the sea to riches grew And when his village came in sight, ; after freight His tears were proof of his delight. Freight the winds in favour blew ; steer'd Ah, happy he, exclaim'd the wight, Fate him clear ; gulf, rock, nor shoal Who, dwelling there with mind sedate, Of all his bales exacted toll. Employs himself to regulate Of other men the powers of chance and storm Their dues collected in substantial form His ever-hatching, wild desires ; ; Who checks his heart when it aspires While smiling Fortune, in her kindest sport, To know of courts, and seas, and glory, Took care to waft his vessels to their port. partners, factors, More than he can by simple story His agents, faithful proved ; ; Who seeks not o'er the treacherous wave His goods—tobacco, sugar, spice More treacherous Fortune's willing slave Were sure to fetch the highest price. The bait of wealth and honours fleeting, By fashion and by folly loved, Held by that goddess, aye retreating. His rich brocades and laces, And splendid porcelain vases, Henceforth from home I budge no more ! Pop on his sleeping friends he came, Enkindling strong desires, Thus purposing against the dame, Most readily found buyers. And found her sitting at his door. 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.

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A bosom friend, a look his table giving, That raised the station of her spouse Inquired whence came such sumptuous living. Bought him an office and a house. Whence should it come, said he, superb of brow, As she could then no longer bear it,

But from the fountain of my knowing how % Another tenanted the garret. I owe it simply to my skill and care To her came up the city crowd, In risking only where the marts will bear. Wives, maidens, servants, gentry proud,—

And now, so sweet his swelling profits were, To ask their fortunes, as before ;

He risk'd anew his former gains : A Sibyl's cave was on her garret floor : Success rewarded not his pains Such custom had its former mistress drawn. His own imprudence was the cause. It lasted even when herself was gone. One ship, ill-freighted, went awreck It sorely tax'd the present, mistress' wits Another felt of arms the lack, To satisfy the throngs of teasing cits.

When pirates, trampling on the laws, I tell your fortunes ! joke, indeed !

O'ercame, and bore it off a prize ! Why, gentlemen, I cannot read ! A third, arriving at its port, What can you, ladies, learn from me, Had fail'd to sell its merchandise,— Who never learn'd my A, B, C ?

The style and folly of the court Avaunt with reasons ! tell she must, Not now requiring such a sort. Predict as if she understood,

His agents, factors, fail'd ; —in short, And lay aside more precious dust The man himself, from pomp and princely cheer, Than two the ablest lawyers could. And palaces, and parks, and dogs, and deer, The stuff that garnish'd out her room Fell down to poverty most sad and drear. Four crippled chairs, a broken broom His friend, now meeting him in shabby plight, Help'd mightily to raise her merits,

Exclaim'd, And whence comes this to pass? Full proof of intercourse with spirits !

From Fortune, said the map, alas ! Had she predicted e'er so truly,

Console yourself, replied the friendly wight : On floor with carpet cover'd duly, For, if to make you rich the dame denies, Her word had been a mockery made. She can't forbid you to be wise. The fashion set upon the garret.

Doubt that ! none bold enough to dare it I What faith he gain'd, I do not wis ; The other woman lost her trade. I know, in every case like this, Each claims the credit of his bliss, All shopmen know the force of signs, And with a heart ingrate And so, indeed, do some divines. Imputes his misery to Fate. 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. XV.—THE FORTUNE-TELLERS.

'Tis oft from chance opinion takes its rise, XVI.—THE CAT, THE WEASEL, AND THE And into reputation multiplies. YOUNG RABBIT. This prologue finds pat applications John Rabbit's palace under ground In men of all this world's vocations ; Was once by Goody Weasel found. For fashion, prejudice, and party strife, She, sly of heart, resolved to seize Conspire to crowd poor justice out of life. The place, and did so at her ease. What can you do to counteract She took possession while its lord This reckless, rushing cataract ? Was absent on the dewy sward, 'Twill have its course for good or bad, Intent upon his usual sport, As it, indeed, has always had. A courtier at Aurora's court. A dame in Paris play'd the Pythoness When he had browsed his fill of clover, With much of custom, and, of course, success. And cut his pranks all nicely over, Was any trifle lost, or did Home Johnny came to take his drowse, Some maid a husband wish, All snug within his cellar- house. Or wife of husband to be rid, The weasel's nose he came to see, Or either sex for fortune fish, Outsticking through the open door. was Resort had to her with gold, Ye gods of hospitality I To get the hidden future told. Exclaim'd the creature, vexed sore, Her art was made of various tricks, Must I give up my father's lodge ? the Wherein dame contrived to mix, Ho ! Madam Weasel, please to budge, With much assurance, learned terms. Or, quicker than a weasel's dodge,

Now, chance, of course, sometimes confirms ; I'll call the rats to pay their grudge ! And just as often as it did, The sharp-nosed lady made reply, The news was anything but hid. That she was first to occupy. In shorty though, as to ninety-nine per cent., The cause of war was surely small The lady knew not what her answers meant, A house where one could only crawl Borne up by ever-babbling Fame, And though it were a vast domain, An oracle she soon became. Said she, I'd like to know what will A garret was this woman's home, Could grant to John perpetual reign,— Till she had gain'd of gold a sum The son of Peter or of Bill,

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More than to Paul, or even me. At once this novel guide, John Rabbit spoke—great lawyer he That saw no more in broad daylight Of custom, usage, as the law, Than in the murk of darkest night, Whereby the house, from sire to son, His powers of leading tried, As well as all its store of straw, Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, From Peter came at length to John. And led his brother straight to Styx. Who could present a claim so good And to the same unlovely home, As he, the first possessor, could ? Some states by such an error come. Now, said the dame, let 's drop dispute, And go before Raminagrobis, —*.— Who'll judge, not only in this suit, But tell us truly whose the globe is. XVHI—AN ANIMAL IN THE MOON.* This person was a hermit cat, A cat that play'd the hypocrite, While one philosopher affirms A saintly mouser, sleek and fat, That by our senses we're deceived, An arbiter of keenest wit. Another swears, in plainest terms, John Rabbit in the judge concurr'd, The senses are to be believed. And off went both their case to broach The twain are right. Philosophy Before his majesty, the furr'd. Correctly calls us dupes whene'er rely Said Clapperclaw, My kits, approach, Upon mere senses we ;

And put your noses to my ears : But when we wisely rectify I'm deaf, almost, by weight of years. The raw report of eye or ear, And so they did, not fearing aught. By distance, medium, circumstance, The good apostle, Clapperclaw, In real knowledge we advance. Then laid on each a well-arm'd paw, These things hath nature wisely plann'd— And both to an agreement brought, Whereof the proof shall be at hand. By virtue of his tusked jaw. I see the sun : its dazzling glow

This brings to mind the fate Seems but a hand-breadth here below ; Of little kings before the great. But should I see it in its home, That azure, star-besprinkled dome, «. Of all the universe the eye, XVII.—THE HEAD AND THE TAIL OF THE Its blaze would fill one half the sky. SERPENT. The powers of trigonometry Have set my mind from blunder free. flat Two parts the serpent has The ignorant believe it ; Of men the enemies I make it round, instead of that.

The head and tail : the same I fasten, fix, on nothing ground it, Have won a mighty fame, And send the earth to travel round it.

Next to the cruel Fates ; In short, I contradict my eyes, So that, indeed, hence And sift the truth from constant lies. They once had great debates The mind, not hasty at conclusion, About precedence. Resists the onset of illusion, first The had always gone ahead j Forbids the sense to get the better, The tail had been for ever led And ne'er believes it to the letter. And now to Heaven it pray'd, Between my eyes, perhaps too ready, And said, And ears as much or more too slow, 0, many and many a league, A judge with balance true and steady, Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, I come, at last, some things to know. Behind his back I go. Thus when the water crooks a stick,

Shall he for ever use me so ? My reason straightens it as quick Am I his humble servant Kind Mistress Reason—foe of error, No. Thanks to God most fervent And best of shields from needless terror. His brother I was born, The creed is common with our race, And not his slave forlorn. The moon contains a woman's face.

The self-same blood in both, True ! No. Whence, then, the notion,

I'm just as good as he : From mountain top to ocean ? A poison dwells in me The roughness of that satellite, As vix*ulent as doth * Its hills and dales, of every grade, In him. In mercy, heed Effect a change of light and shade

And grant me this decree, Deceptive to our feeble sight ; That I in turn may lead So that, besides the human face, My brother, follow me. All sorts of creatures one might trace. My course shall be so wise. Indeed, a living beast, I ween, That no complaint shall rise. Has lately been by England seen. All duly placed the telescope, With cruel kindness Heaven granted And keen observers full of hope, The very thing he blindly wanted : An animal entirely new, To such desires of beasts and men, * This fable is founded on a fact which occurred in the Though often deaf, it was not then. experience of the astronomer Sir Paul Neal, a member of * An ancient mistake in natural history. the Royal Society of London.

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In that fair planet, came to view. The very moment, oft, which bids

Abroad and fast the wonder flew ; The heirs of empire see the light Some change had taken place on high, Is that which shuts their fringed lids

Presaging earthly changes nigh ; In everlasting night. Perhaps, indeed, it might betoken Defend yourself by rank and wealth, The wars that had already broken Plead beauty, virtue, youth, and health, Out wildly o'er the Continent. Unblushing will ravish Death all ; The king to see the wonder went The world itself shall pass beneath his pall.

(As patron of the sciences, No truth is better known ; but, truth to say, No right to go more plain than his.) No truth is oftener thrown away. To him, in turn, distinct and clear, A man, well in his second century, This lunar monster did appear. Complain'd that Death had call'd him suddenly A mouse, between the lenses caged, Had left no time his plans to fill, Had caused these wars, so fiercely waged ! To balance books, or make his will. No doubt the happy English folks Death, said he, d'ye call it fair, Laugh'd at it as the best of jokes. Without a warning to prepare, How soon will Mars afford the chance To take a man on lifted leg ? For like amusements here in France ! O, wait a little while, I beg. He makes us reap broad fields of glory. My wife cannot be left alone Our foes may fear the battle-ground ; ; 1 must set out my nephew's son ; For us, it is no sooner found, And let me build my house a wing, Than Louis, with fresh laurels crowifd, Before you strike, cruel king ! Bears higher up our country's story. Old man, said Death, one thing is sure, The daughters, too, of Memory, My visit here's not premature. The Pleasures and the Graces, Hast thou not lived a century !

Still show their cheering faces : Darest thou engage to find for me, We wish for peace, but do not sigh. In Paris' walls two older men ? The English Charles the secret knows Has France, among her millions ten \ To make the most of his repose. Thou say'st I should have sent thee word than this, he'll And more know the way, to Thy lamp trim, thy loins to gird ; By valour working sword in hand, And then my coming had been meet — To bring his sea-encircled land Thy will engross 'd, To share the fight it only sees to-day. Thy house complete ! Yet, could he but this quarrel quell, Did not thy feelings notify ? What incense-clouds would grateful swell Did not they tell thee thou must die ? * his ! What deed more worthy of fame taste hearing Thy and are no more ; Augustus, Julius pray, which Ceesar's — name Thy sight itself is gone before ; story's page with Shines now on purest flame ? For thee the sun superfluous shines,

people happy in your sturdy hearts ! And all the wealth of Indian mines. shall Peace pack Say, when up these bloody darts, Thy mates I've shown thee dead or dying. And send us all, like you, to softer arts ? 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. BOOK VIII. reason, And Death had —ghastly sage ! I.—DEATH AND THE DYING. For surely man, at such an age, Should part from life as from a feast, Returning decent thanks, at least, Death never taketh by surprise To Him who spread the various cheer, The well-prepared, to wit, the wise And unrepining take his bier They knowing of themselves the time ; For shun it long no creature can. To meditate the final change of clime. Repinest thou, grey-headed man ? That time, alas ! embraces all See younger mortals rushing by Which into hours and minutes we divide ; To meet their death without a sigh There is no part, however small, Death full of triumph and of fame, That from this tribute one can hide. But in its terrors still the same.

But, ah ! my words are thrown away * This fable appears to have been composed about the Those most like Death most dread his sway. beginning of the year 1677- The European powers then found themselves exhausted by war and desirous of peace. England, the only neutral, became, of course, the arbiter of the negotiations which ensued at Nimeguen. All the II.—THE COBBLER AND THE FINANCIER. belligerent parties invoked her mediation. Charles II., however, felt himself exceedingly embarrassed by his A cobbler sang from morn till night 6ecret connections with Louis XIV., which made him 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, desire to prescribe conditions favourable to that monarch ; His trills and quavers told the ear while, on the other hand, he feared the people of England, Of more contentment and delight, if, treacherous to her interests, he should fail to favour Enjoy 'd by that laborious wight, the nations allied and combined against France.

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Than e'er enjoy'd the sages seven, This king, from every species, Or any mortals short of heaven. For each abounds in every sort, His neighbour, on the other hand, Call'd to his aid the leeches. With gold in plenty at command, They came in throngs to court, But little sang, and slumber'd less From doctors of the highest fee A financier of great success. To nostrum-quacks without degree,- If e'er he dozed at break of Advised, day, prescribed, talk'd learnedly ; The cobbler's song drove sleep away But with ; the rest And much he wish'd that Heaven had made Came not Sir Cunning Fox, M.D. Sleep a commodity of trade, Sir Wolf the royal couch attended, In market sold, like food and drink, And his suspicions there express'd. So much an hour, so much a wink. Forthwith his majesty, offended, At last, our songster did he call Resolved Sir Cunning Fox should come, To meet him in his princely hall. And sent to smoke him from his home. Said he, Now, honest Gregory, He came, was duly usher'd in,

What may your yearly earnings be ? And, knowing where Sir Wolf had been,

My yearly earnings ! faith, good sir, Said, Sire, your royal ear I never go, at once, so far, Has been abused, I fear, cheerful false The cobbler said, By rumours and insincere ; And queerly scratch'd his head,— To wit, that I've been self-exempt I never reckon in that way, From coming here, through sheer contempt. But cobble on from day to day, But, sire, I've been on pilgrimage, Content with daily bread. By vow expressly made,

Indeed ! Well, Gregory, pray, Your royal health to aid,

What may your earnings be per day ? And, on my way, met doctors sage, Why, sometimes more and sometimes less. In skill the wonder of the age, The worst of all, I must confess, Whom carefully I did consult (And but for which our gains would be About that great debility A pretty sight, indeed, to see,) Term'd in the books senility, Is that the days are made so many Of which you fear, with reason, the result. In which we cannot earn a penny You lack, they say, the vital heat,

The sorest ill the poor man feels : By age extreme become effete. They tread upon each other's heels Drawn from a living wolf, the hide

Those idle days of holy saints ! Should warm and smoking be applied. And though the year is shingled o'er, The secret's good, beyond a doubt,

The parson keeps a-finding more ! For nature's weak, and wearing out. With smiles provoked by these complaints, Sir Wolf,- here, won't refuse to give Replied the lordly financier, His hide to cure you, as I live. I'll give you better cause to sing. The king was pleased with this advice. These hundred pounds I hand you here Flay'd, jointed, served up in a trice, Will make you happy as a king. Sir Wolf first wrapp'd the monarch up, Go, spend them with a frugal Then furnish'd him whereon to sup. heed ; They'll long supply your every need. Beware, ye courtiers, lest ye gam, The cobbler thought the silver more By slander's arts, less power than pain Than he had ever dream'd, before, ; For in the world where ye are living, The mines for ages could produce, A pardon no one thinks of giving. 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, IV.—THE POWER OP FABLES. But cares, suspicions in their stead, TO 31. DE BARILLON*. And false alarms, by fancy fed. His eyes and ears their vigils keep, Can diplomatic dignity And not a cat can tread the floor To simple fables condescend ? But seems a thief slipp'd through the door. Can I your famed benignity At last, poor man ! Invoke, my muse an ear to lend ? Up to the financier he ran, If once she dares a high intent, Then in his morning nap profound : Will you esteem her impudent ? give me back my songs, cried 0, he, Your cares are weightier, indeed, And sleep, that used so sweet to be, Than listening to the sage debates And take the money, every pound ! 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. III.—THE LION, THE WOLF, AND THE POX. That from a thousand other places Our enemies should show their faces, A lion, old and impotent with gout, May well be granted with a smile, Would have some cure for age found out. But not that England's Isle Impossibilities, on all occasions, With kings, are rank abominations. * Ambassador to the court of St. James.

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Our friendly kings should set This feather stick in Fable's cap. fatal all Their blades to whet. We're Athenians, mayhap ; ? Comes not the time for Louis to repose And I, for one, confess the sin ; What Hercules, against these hydra foes, For, while I write this moral here, "Would not grow weary ? Must new heads oppose If one should tell that tale so queer

His ever-waxing energy of blows ? Ycleped, I think, " The Ass's Skin," Now, if your gentle, soul-persuasive powers, I should not mind my work a pin.

As sweet as mighty in this world of ours, The world is old, they say ; I don't deny it ;- Can soften hearts, and lull this war to sleep*, But, infant still

I'll pile your altars with a hundred sheep ; In taste and will, And this is not a small affair Whoe'er would teach, must gratify it. 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. V—THE MAN AND THE FLEA. I'll only say, the theme is fit for you. With praise, which envy must confess Impertinent, we tease and weary Heaven To worth like yours is justly due, With prayers which would insult mere mortals No man on earth needs propping less. even. 'Twould seem that not a god in all the skies In Athens, once, that city fickle, From our affairs must ever turn his eyes, An oratorf, awake to feel And that the smallest of our race His country in a dangerous pickle, Could hardly eat, or wash his face, Would sway the proud republic's heart, Without, like Greece and Troy for ten years' space, Embroiling all Olympus in the case. Discoursing of the common weal, ] As taught by his tyrannic art. A flea some blockhead's shoulder bit, The people listen'd—not a word. And then his clothes refused to quit. Meanwhile the orator recurr'd Hercules, he cried, you ought to purge To bolder tropes—enough to rouse The world of this far worse than hydra scourge. The dullest blocks that e'er did drowse ; Jupiter, what are your bolts about, He clothed in life the very dead, They do not put these foes of mine to rout ? And thunder'd all that could be said. The wind received his breath, To crush a flea, this fellow's fingers under, to the ear of death. As The gods must lend the fool their club and thunder. That beast of many heads and lightj, 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. VL—THE WOMEN AND THE SECRET. Ceres, in lower tone said he, There's nothing like a secret weighs Went forth her harvest fields to see : Too heavy 'tis for An eel, as such a fish might be, women tender ; And swallow, were her company. And, for this matter, in my days, A river check'd the travellers three. I've seen some men of female gender.

Two cross' d it soon without ado ; prove his wife, The smooth eel swam, the swallow flew. To a husband cried, Outcried the crowd, (The night he knew the truth would hide,) With voices loud Heavens ! what's tins ? O dear—I beg I'm torn ! ! I've laid an egg ! And Ceres— what did she ? — An egg 1 Why, yes, it's gospel-true. Why, what she pleased ; but first Yourselves she justly cursed Look here—see—feel it, fresh and new A people puzzling aye your brains But, wife, don't mention it, lest men Should laugh at me, and call hen With children's tales and children's play, me ; While Greece puts on her steel array, Indeed, don't say a word about it. On this, as other matters, green and young, To save her limbs from tyrant chains ! The wife, all wonder, did not doubt it, Why ask you not what Philip does ? At this reproach the idle buzz And pledged herself by Heaven to hold her tongue. Fell to the silence of the grave, Her oath, however, fled the light Or moonstruck sea without a wave, As quick as did the shades of night. And every eye and ear awoke Before Dan Phcebus waked to labour, To drink the words the patriot spoke. The dame was off to see a neighbour. My friend, she said, half-whispering, * The parliament of England was determined that, in There's come to pass the strangest thing case Louis XIV. did not make peace with the allies, If you should tell, 'twould turn me out of door : Charles II. should join to make war on France, them My husband's laid an egg as big as four ! Demades. •f- As you would taste of heaven's bliss, $ Horace, speaking of the Roman people, said, Don't tell a living soul of this. " Bellua multorum est capitum." 1 tell ! why if yon knew a thing about me, Epist. I. I. Book 76. You wouldn't for an instant doubt me ;

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Your confidence Til ne'er abuse. VIH.—THE JOKER AND THE FISHES. The layer's wife went home relieved

The other broil'd to tell the news ; Some seek for jokers ; I avoid. believed. You need not ask if she A joke must be, to be enjoy 'd, could not be A dame more busy ; Of wisdom's words, by wit employ'd. In twenty places, ere her tea, God never meant for men of sense, Instead of one egg, she said three The wits that joke to give offence. Nor was the story finish'd here : A gossip, still more keen than she, Perchance of these I shall be able Said four, and spoke it in the ear To show you one preserved in fable. A caution truly little worth, A joker at a banker's table, Applied to all the ears on earth. Most amply spread to satisfy Of eggs, the number*, thanks to Fame, The height of epicurean wishes, As on from mouth to mouth she sped, Had nothing near but little fishes. Had grown a hundred, soothly said, So, taking several of the fry,

Ere Sol had quench' d his golden flame ! 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. CARRIED HIS MASTER'S YE-THE DOG THAT The joker, then with sober face, DINNER. Politely thus explain'd the case : Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, A friend of mine, to India bound, Nor hands against the touch of gold. Has been, I feai*, Fidelity is sadly rare, Within a year, And has been from the days of old. By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. I ask'd these strangers from the sea "Well taught his appetite to check, To tell me where my friend might be. And do full many a handy trick, But all replied they were too young A dog was trotting, light and quick, know the least of such matter His master's dinner on his neck. To a The older fish could tell me better. A temperate, self-denying dog was he, Pray, may I hear some older tongue I More than with such a load he liked to be. What relish had the gentlefolks But still he was, while many such as we For such a sample of his jokes, Would not have scrupled to make free. Is more than I can now relate. Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach monster of so old a date, This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, A must have known the names and fate A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. He Of all the daring voyagers, To get it was less easy than he thought Who, following the moon and stars, The porter laid it down and fought. Have, by mischances, sunk their bones Meantime some other dogs arrive : Within the realms of Davy Jones Such dogs are always thick enough, ; And who, for centuries, had seen, And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, down, within the fathomless, Upon the public thrive. Far whales themselves are sceptreless, Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd, Where ancients in their halls of green. The meat in danger manifest, The Is fain to share it with the rest And, looking very calm and wise,

No anger, gentlemen, he cries : IX.—THE RAT AND THE OYSTER. My morsel will myself suffice ; The rest shall be your welcome prize. A country rat, of little brains, With this, the first his charge to violate, Grown weary of inglorious rest, He snaps a mouthful from his freight. Left home with all its straws and grains, Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, Resolved to know beyond his nest. Till all is cleanly eaten up. When peeping through the nearest fence, Not sparingly the party feasted, How big the world is, how immense ! And not a dog of all but tasted. He cried ; there rise the Alps, and that In some such manner men abuse Is doubtless famous Ararat. Of towns and states the revenues. His mountains were the works of moles, The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor, Or dirt thrown up in digging holes Come in for each a liberal share. Some days of travel brought him where

The strongest gives the rest example : The tide had left the oysters bare. 'Tis sport to see with what a zest Since here our traveller saw the sea, They sweep and lick the public chest He thought these shells the ships must be. Of all its funds, however ample. My father was, in truth, said he, If any weal's common defender A coward, and an ignoramus ;

Should dare to say a single word, He dared not travel : as for me, He's shown his scruples are absurd, I've seen the ships and ocean famous And finds it easy to surrender Have cross'd the deserts without drinking, Perhaps, to be the first offender. And many dangerous streams unshrinking

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Such things I know from having seen and felt them. The bear, unused to compliment, And, as lie went, in tales he proudly dealt them, Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, Not being of those rats whose knowledge Come home with me. The man replied Comes by their teeth on books in college. Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, Among the shut-up shell-fish, one In yonder garden you may spy, Was gaping widely at the sun Where, if you'll honour me the while, It breathed, and drank the air's perfume, We'll break our fast in rural style. Expanding, like a flower in bloom. I've fruits and milk,—unworthy fare,

Both white and fat, its meat It may be, for a wealthy bear ; Appear'd a dainty treat. But then I offer what I have. Our rat, when he this shell espied, The bear accepts, with visage grave,

Thought for his stomach to provide. But not unpleased ; and on their way, If not mistaken in the matter, They grow familiar, friendly, gay. Said he, no meat was ever fatter, Arrived, you see them side by side, Or in its flavour half so fine, As if their friendship had been tried. As that on which today I dine. To a companion so absurd, Thus full of hope, the foolish chap Blank solitude were well preferr'd, Thrust in his head to taste, Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, And felt the pinching of a trap The man was left quite at his leisure The oyster closed in haste. To trim his garden at his pleasure. Sir Bruin hunted—always brought We're first instructed, by this case, His friend whatever game he caught That those to whom the world is new But chiefly aim'd at driving flies

Are wonder-struck at every view ; Those bold and shameless parasites, And, in the second place, That vex us with their ceaseless bites That the marauder finds his match, From off our gardener's face and eyes. And he is caught who thinks to catch. 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. X—THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER. At last, determined, up he jumps ; I'll stop thy noisy buzzing now, A certain mountain beat*, unlick'd and rude, Says he ; I know precisely how. By fate confined within a lonely wood, No sooner said than done. A new Bellerophon, whose life, He seized a paving-stone Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife, ; And by his modus operandi Became insane ; for reason, as we term it. Did both the fly and man die. Dwells never long with any hermit. 'Tis good to mix in good society, A foolish friend may cause more woe Obeying rules of due propriety; Than could, indeed, the wisest foe. 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 XL—THE TWO FRIENDS. Heart-sick, and long'd for something new. While he to sadness was addicted, Two friends, in Monomotapa, An aged man, not far from there, Had all their interests combined. Was by the same disease afflicted. Their friendship, faithful and refined, A garden was his favourite care, Our country can't exceed, do what it may. Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, One night, when potent Sleep had laid And eke Pomona's—ripe and red All still within our planet's shade, The presents that her fingers shed. One of the two gets up alarm'd, These two employments, true, are sweet Buns over to the other's palace, When made so by some friend discreet. And hastily the servants rallies. The gardens, gayly as they look, His startled friend, quick arm'd, Talk not, his (except in this my book ;) With purse and sword comrade meets, So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, And thus right kindly greets : Our man one morning left his home Thou seldom com'st at such an hour Some company to seek, I take thee for a man of sounder mind That had the power to speak. Than to abuse the time for sleep design'd. The bear, with thoughts the same, Hast lost thy purse, by Fortune's power ? suffer'd insult, Down from his mountain came ; Here's mine. Hast or a blow And in a solitary place, I've here my sword— to avenge it let us go. They met each other, face to face. No, said his friend, no need I feel

It would have made the boldest tremble ; Of either silver, gold, or steel What did our man ? To play the Gascon I thank thee for thy friendly zeal. The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, In sleep I saw thee rather sad,

His fear contriving to dissemble. And thought the truth might be as bad ;

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Unable to endure the fear, Such challenge to refuse, That cursed dream has brought me here. Without a good excuse, Is not the Which think you, reader, loved the most way to use Divinity or muse. If* doubtful this, one truth may be proposed Especially There's nothing sweeter than a real friend to one Of those who truly are, Not only is he prompt to lend By force of being An angler delicate, he fishes fair, Made queens of The very deepest of your wishes, human will, A thing should And spares your modesty the task not be done In all respects so ill. His friendly aid to ask. For, be it known to A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, all, From Sillery the When pointing at the object dear. call Has come for bird, and beast, And insects, to the least, To clothe their thoughts sublime XII.—THE HOG, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP. In this my simple rhyme. In saying Sillery, A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, All's said that need to be. All to the market rode together. Her claim to it so good, Their own amusement was not that Few fail to give her place Which caused their journey thither. Above the human race Their coachman did not mean to "set them down" How could they, if they would ? To see the shows and wonders of the town.

The porker cried, in piercing squeals, Now come we to our end : As if with butchers at his heels. As she opines my tales The other beasts, of milder mood, Are hard to comprehend j The cause by no means understood. For even genius fails They saw no harm, and wonder'd why Some things to understand ; At such a rate the hog should cry. So let us take in hand

Hush there, old piggy ! said the man, To make unnecessary, And keep as quiet as you can. For once, a commentary. What wrong have you to squeal about, Come shepherds now,—and rhyme we afterwards And raise this devilish, deafening shout ? The talk between the wolves and fleecy herds. These stiller persons at your side Have manners much more dignified. To Amaranth, the young and fair, Pray, have you heard Said Thyrsis, once, with serious air,

A single word 0, if you knew, like me, a certain ill,

Come from that gentleman in wool ? With which we men are harm'd, That proves him wise. That proves him fool, As well as strangely charm'd, testy boon The hog replied ; No from Heaven your heart could like it fill! For did he know Please let me name it in your ear, To what we go, A harmless word,—you need not fear. He'd cry almost to split his throat; Would I deceive you, you, for whom 1 bear

So would her ladyship the goat. The tenderest sentiments that ever were ? They only think to lose with ease, Then Amaranth replied, The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece What is its name % I beg you, do not hide.

They're, maybe, right ; but as for me, 'Tis love.—The word is beautiful ! reveal This ride is quite another matter. Its signs and symptoms, how it makes one feel. Of service only on the platter, Its pains are ecstacies. So sweet its stings, My death is quite a certainty. The nectar-cups and incense-pots of kings,

Adieu, my dear old piggery ! Compared, are flat, insipid things. The porker's logic proved at once One strays all lonely in the wood Himself a prophet and a dunce. Leans silent o'er the placid flood, And there with great complacency, Hope ever gives a present ease, A certain face can see But fear beforehand kills : 'Tis not one's own—but image fair, The wisest he who least foresees Retreating, Inevitable ills. Fleeting, Meeting, Greeting, XIII.—THYItSIS AND AMARANTH. Following everywhere. FOR MADEMOISELLE DE SILLERY. For all the rest of human kind, One is as good in short as blind. I had the Phrygian quit, There is a shepherd wight, I ween, Charm' d with Italian wit*; Well known upon the village green, But a divinity Whose voice, whose name, whose turning of tilt Would on Parnassus see hinge A fable more from me. Excites upon the cheek a richer tinge The thought of is signal for sigh * Referring to his Tales, in which he had borrowed whom a many subjects from Boccaccio. The breast that heaves it knows not why

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64 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book viii.

Whose face the maiden fears to see, Of such a wretch profane Yet none so welcome still as he. Our sacred claws to stain. Here Amaranth cut short his speech: Wolves, let a sacrifice be made,

! ! is that the evil which you preach % Avenge your mistress' awful shade. To me I think it is no stranger Sire, did the stag reply, ; I must have felt its power and danger. The time for tears is quite gone by Here Thyrsis thought his end was gain'd, For in the flowers, not far from here,

further thus the explain'd : Your worthy consort When maid did appear ; 'Tis just the very sentiment Her form, in spite of my surprise,

Which I have felt for Clidamant ! I could not fail to recognise. The other, vex'd and mortified, My friend, said she, beware Now bit his lips, and nearly died. Lest funeral pomp about my bier, When I shall go with gods to share, Like him are multitudes, who when Compel thine eye to drop a tear. Their own advancement they have meant, With kindred saints I rove play'd the Have game of other men. In the Elysian grove, And taste a sort of bliss Unknown in worlds like this. XIV—THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS. Still, let the royal sorrow flow Its proper season here below ; 'Tis not unpleasing, I confess. The lion's consort died : Crowds, gather'd at his side, The king and court scarce hear him out. Must needs console the prince, Up goes the loud and welcome shout And thus their loyalty evince A miracle ! an apotheosis ! at the is, By compliments of coui'se, And such once fashion dying Which make affliction worse. So far from in a ditch, retires with Officially he cites The stag presents rich. His realm to funeral rites. Amuse the ear of royalty At such a time and place With pleasant dreams, and flattery, His marshals of the mace No matter what you may have done, Would order the affair. Nor yet how high its wrath may run, Judge you if all came there. The bait is swallow'd—object won. 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. XV.-THE RAT AND THE ELEPHANT. Sounds imitative you might hear. One's own importance to enhance, The court a country seems to me, Inspirited by self-esteem,

Whose people are no matter what, Is quite a common thing in France ; Sad gay, indifferent, or not, A French disease it well might seem. strutting cavaliers of Spain As suits the will of majesty ; The Or, if unable so to be, Are in another manner vain. Their task it is to seem it all Their pride has more insanity, Chameleons, monkeys, great and small. More silliness our vanity. 'Twould seem one spirit serves a thousand bodies Let's shadow forth our own disease A paradise, indeed, for soulless noddies. Well worth a hundred tales like these.

But to our tale again : . A rat, of quite the smallest size,

The stag graced not the funeral train ; Fix'd on an elephant his eyes,

Of tears his cheeks bore not a stain ; And jeer'd the beast of high descent For how could such a thing have been, Because his feet so slowly went. When death avenged him on the queen, Upon his back, three stories high, Who, not content with taking one, There sat, beneath a canopy, Had choked to death his wife and son ? A certain sultan of renown, The tears, in truth, refused to run. His dog, and cat, and concubine, A flatterer, who watch'd the while, His parrot, servant, and his wine, Affirm'd that he had seen him smile. AH pilgrims to a distant town. If, as the wise man somewhere saith, The rat profess'd to be amazed A king's is like a lion's wrath, That all the people stood and gazed What should King Lion's be but death ? With wonder, as he pass'd the road, The stag however could not read Both at the creature and his load. Hence paid this proverb little heed, As if, said he, to occupy

And walk'd, intrepid, towards the throne ; A little more of land or sky

When thus the king, in fearful tone : Made one, in view of common sense,

Thou caitiff of the wood Of greater worth and consequence ! PresunVst to laugh at such a time ? What see ye, men, in this parade, Joins not thy voice the mournful chime ? That food for wonder need be made ? We suffer not the blood The bulk which makes a child afraid?

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In truth, I take myself to be, Which first she wish'd to break, In all respects, as good as he. The creature dropp'd, by sad mistake, And further might have gone his vaunt Plump on the poet's forehead bare. But, darting down, the eat As if it were a naked rock

Convinced him that a rat To iEschylus a fatal shock ! Is smaller than an elephant. From these examples, it appears, This art, if true in any wise, Makes men fulfil the very fears Engender'd by its prophecies. XVI.-THE HOROSCOPE. But from this charge I justify, By branding it a total lie. On death we mortals often run, I don't believe that Nature's powers Just by the roads we take to shun. Have tied her hands or pinion'd ours. By marking on the heavenly vault A father's only heir, a son, Our fate without mistake or fault. Was over-loved and doted on That fate depends upon conjunctions So greatly, that astrology Of places, persons, times, and tracks, question'd what his fate might be. Was And not upon the functions The man of stars this caution gave Of more or less of quacks. That, until twenty years of age, A king and clown beneath one planet's nod No lion, even in a cage, Are born ; one wields a sceptre, one a hod. The boy should see,—his life to save. But it is Jupiter that wills it so ! The sire, to silence every fear And who is he ? A soulless clod. About a life so very dear, How can he cause such different powers to flew Forbade that any one should let Upon the aforesaid mortals here below \ His son beyond his threshold get. And how, indeed, to this far distant ball Within his palace walls, the boy Can he impart his energy at all ! Might all that heart could wish enjoy How pierce the ether deeps profound, Might with his mates walk, leap, and run, The sun and globes that whirl around ? And frolic in the wildest fun. A mote might turn his potent ray When come of age to love the chase, For ever from its earthward way. That exercise was oft depicted Will find it, then, in starry cope, To him as one that brought disgrace, The makers of the horoscope ? To which but blackguards were addicted. The war with which all Europe's now afflicted But neither warning nor derision Deserves it not by them to've been predicted \ Could change his ardent disposition. Yet heard we not a whisper of it, The youth, fierce, restless, full of blood, Before it came, from any prophet. Was prompted by the boiling flood The suddenness of passion's gush, To love the dangers of the wood. Of wayward life the headlong rush, The more opposed, the stronger grew Permit they that the feeble ray His mad desire. The cause he knew, Of twinkling planet, far away, For which he was so closely pent Should trace our winding, zigzag course ? And as, where'er he went, And yet this planetary force, In that magnificent abode, As steady as it is unknown, Both tapestry and canvas show'd These fools would make our guide alone The feats he did so much admire, Of all our varied life the source ! painted lion roused his ire. A Such doubtful facts as I relate Ah, monster ! cried he, in his rage The petted child's and poet's fate 'Tis you that keep me in my cage. Our argument may well admit. With that, he clinch'd his fist, The blindest man that lives in France, To strike the harmless beast The smallest mark would doubtless hit And did his hand impale Once in a thousand times—by chance. Upon a hidden nail And thus this cherish'd head, For which the healing art But vainly did its part, XVII.—THE ASS AND THE DOG. Was hurried to the dead By caution blindly meant Dame Nature, our respected mother, To shun that sad event. Ordains that we should aid each other.

The poet iEschylus, 'tis said, The ass this ordinance neglected, By much the same precaution bled. Though not a creature ill-affected. A conj uror foretold Along the road a dog and he , A house wouid crush him in its fall ; One master follow d silently.

Forth sallied he, though old, Their master slept : meanwhile, the ass From town and roof-protected hall, Applied his nippers to the grass, And took his lodgings, wet or dry, Much pleased in such a place to stop, Abroad, beneath the open sky. Though there no thistle he could crop. An eagle, bearing through the air He would not be too delicate, A tortoise for her household fare, Nor spoil a dinner for a plate,

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Which, but for that, his favourite dish, Straight to the merchant's, firm and stable, Were all that any ass could wish. He went, and took a seat at table. My dear companion, Towser said, Such calm assurance there was seen, 'Tis as a starving dog I ask it, Both in his words and in his mien, Pray lower down your loaded basket, That e'en that weasel-sighted Grecian And let me get a piece of bread. Could not suspect him of suspicion. No answer—not a word !—indeed, My friend, said he, I know you've quit rne, The truth was, our Arcadian steed And some think caution would befit me,

Fear'd lest, for every moment's flight, Lest to despatch me be your plan : His nimble teeth should lose a bite. But, deeming you too good a man At last, I counsel you, said he, to wait To injure either friends or foes Till master is himself awake, With poison'd cups or secret blows, Who then, unless I much mistake, I drown the thought, and say no more. Will give his dog the usual bait. But, as regards the three or four Meanwhile, there issued from the wood Who take my place, A creature of the wolfish brood, I crave your grace Himself by famine sorely pinch'd. To listen to an apologue. At sight of him the donkey flinch'd, shepherd, with a single dog, And begg'd the dog to give him aid. A Was ask'd the reason The dog budged not, but answer made,- why He kept a dog, whose least supply I counsel thee, my friend, to run, Amounted to a loaf of bread Till master's nap is fairly done For every day. The people There can, indeed, be no mistake, said He'd better give the animal That he will very soon awake ; To guard the village senior's hall Till then, scud off with all your might ; For him, a shepherd, it would be And should he snap you in your flight, A thriftier economy This ugly wolf,—why, let him feel To keep small curs, say two or three, The greeting of your well-shod heel. That would not cost him half the food, I do not doubt, at all, but that And yet for watching be as good. Will be enough to lay him flat. The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell it But ere he ceased was too late ; If they would fight the wolf as well. The ass had met his cruel fate. The silly shepherd, giving heed, Thus selfishness we reprobate. 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, XVHI.-THE PASHAW AND THE MERCHANT. As doubtlessly, my friend, will you. If wise, my aid again you'll seek A trading Greek, for want of law, And so, persuaded, did the Greek. Protection bought of a pashaw ; And like a nobleman he paid, Not vain our tale, if it convinces Much rather than a man of trade Small states that 'tis a wiser thing Protection being, Turkish-wise, To trust a single powerful king, A costly sort of merchandise. Than half a dozen petty princes. 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, XIX.—THE USE OF KNOWLEDGE. And all draw less upon his bank, Than did the great pashaw alone. Between two citizens The Greek their offer gladly heard, A controversy grew.

And closed the bargain with a word. The one was poor, but much he knew : The said pashaw was made aware, The other, rich, with little sense, And counsel'd with a prudent care, Claim'd that, in point of excellence, These rivals to anticipate, The merely wise should bow the knee By sending them to heaven's gate, To all such money'd men as he.

As messengers to Mahomet The merely fools, he should have said ; Which measure should he much delay, For why should wealth hold up its head, Himself might go the self-same way, When merit from its side hath fled ? By poison offer'd secretly, My friend, quoth Bloated-purse Sent on, before his time, to be To his reverse, Protector to such arts and trades You think yourself considerable. As flourish in the world of shades. Pray, tell me, do you keep a table ? On this advice, the Turk—no gander What comes of this incessant reading, Behaved himself like Alexander*. In point of lodging, clothing, feeding ? It gives one, true, the highest chamber, * Who took the medicine presented to him by his phy- One coat for June and for December, sician Philip, the moment after he had received a letter His shadow for his sole attendant, announcing that that very man designed to poison him.>— Arrian, L. U. Chap. XIV. And hunger always in th' ascendant.

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What profits he his country, too, Despatch'd her back to hell. Who scarcely ever spends a sou ? And then a bolt he hurl'd, Will, haply, be a public charge ? Down on a faithless world, Who profits more the state at large, Which in a desert fell. Than he whose luxuries dispense Aim'd by a father's arm, Among the people wealth immense ? It caused more fear than harm. We set the streams of life a flowing (All fathers strike aside.) ;

We set all sorts of trades a going. What did from this betide ? The spinner, weaver, sewer, vender, Our evil race grew bold, And many a wearer, fair and tender, Resumed their wicked ti'icks, All live and flourish on the spender Increased them manifold, As do, indeed, the reverend rooks Till, all Olympus through, Who waste their time in making books. Indignant murmurs flew. These words, so full of impudence, When, swearing by the Styx, Received their proper recompense. The sire that rules the air The man of letters held his peace, Storms promised to prepare Though much he might have said with ease. More terrible and dark, A war avenged him soon and well Which should not miss their mark.

In it their common city fell. A father's wrath it is !

Both fled abroad ; the ignorant, The other deities fortune thus want, All in one voice By brought down to exclaim'd ; Was treated everywhere with scorn, And, might the thing be named, other And roamed about, a wretch forlorn ; Some god would make Whereas the scholar, everywhere, Bolts better for our sake. Was nourish'd by the public care. This Vulcan undertook. His rumbling forges shook

Let fools the studious despise ; And glow'd with fervent heat, There's nothing lost by being wise. 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, XX.—JUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS. That is, the gods at large. The other, bearing wide, Said Jupiter, one day, Hits mountain-top or side, lay, As on a cloud he Or makes a cloud its targe. crimes, Observing all our And this it is alone Come, let us change the times, Which leaves the father's throne. By leasing out anew A world whose wicked crew Have wearied out our grace, And cursed us to our face. Hie hellward, Mercury XXI.—THE FALCON AND THE CAPON. A Fury bring to me, You often hear a sweet seductive call The direst of the three. If wise, you hasten towards it not at all, Race nursed too tenderly ! And, if you heed my apologue, This day your doom shall be. You act like John de Nivelle's dog*. E'en while he spoke their fate, His wrath began to moderate. A capon, citizen of Mans, Was summon'd from a throng kings, with whom his will To answer to the village squire, Hath lodged our good and ill, Your wrath and storm between Before tribunal call'd the fire. The matter to disguise, One night should intervene. The kitchen sheriff wise The god of rapid wing Cried, Biddy—Biddy—Biddy !— And lip unfaltering But not a moment did he To sunless regions sped, This Norman and a half And met the sisters dread. f The smooth official To grim Tisiphone trust. Your bait, said he, is dust, And pale Megsera, he And I'm too old for chaff. Preferr'd, as murderess, Meantime, a falcon, on his perch, Alecto, pitiless. Observed the flight and search. This choice so roused the fiend, By Pluto's beard she swore * A dog which, according to the French proverh, ran The human race no more away when his master called him. Should be by handfuls glean'd, t Though the Normans are proverbial for their shrewd- in solid mass But one ness, the French have, nevertheless, a proverh that they Th' infernal gates should pass. come to Paris to he hanged. Hence La Fontaine makes But Jove, displeased with both his capon, who knew how to shun a similar fate, le The Fury and her oath, Normand et demi—the Norman and a half.

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In man, by instinct or experience, 'Tis by a sacred right, The capons have so little confidence, You, sole of all your race, That this was not without much trouble caught, By special love and grace, Though for a splendid supper sought. Have been my favourite To lie, the morrow night, The darling of my eyes. In brilliant candle-light, 'Twas order'd by celestial cares,

Supinely on a dish No doubt ; I thank the blessed skies, 'Midst viands, fowl, and fish, That, going out to say my prayers, With all the ease that heart could wish As cats devout each morning do, This honour, from his master kind, This net has made me pray to you. The fowl would gladly have declined. Come, fall to work upon the cord. Outcried the bird of ehase, Replied the rat, And what reward

As in the weeds he eyed the skulker's face, Shall me, if I dare \ — pay Why, what a stupid, blockhead race ! Why, said the cat, I swear

Such witless, brainless fools To be your firm ally : Might well defy the schools. Henceforth, eternally, For me, I understand These powerful claws are yours,- To chase at word Which safe your life insures. swiftest bird, I'll The guard from quadruped and fowl J

Aloft, o'er sea or land ; I'll eat the weasel and the owl.

At slightest beck, Ah, cried the rat, you fool ! Returning quick I'm quite too wise to be your tool. To perch upon my master's hand. He said, and sought his snug retreat, There, at his window he appears Close at the rotten pine-tree's feet, He waits thee—hasten—hast no ears \ Where plump he did the weasel meet

Ah ! that I have, the fowl replied ; Whom shunning by a happy dodge, But what from master might betide ? He climb'd the hollow trunk to lodge Or cook, with cleaver at his side I And there the savage owl he saw. Return you may for such a call, Necessity became his law,

But let me fly their fatal hall ; And down he went, the rope to gnaw

And spare your mirth at my expense : Strand after strand in two he bit, Whate'er I lack, 'tis not the sense And freed, at last, the hypocrite. To know that all this sweet-toned breath That moment came the man in sight Is spent to lure me to my death. The new allies took hasty flight. If you had seen upon the spit

As many of the falcons roast * A good while after that, As I have of the capon host, Our liberated cat You would not thus reproach my wit. 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. XXII.—THE CAT AND THE RAT Do you suppose, dear rat, that I

' Forget the solemn oath I mew'd ? Four creatures, wont to prowl, Do I forget, the rat replied, cat, Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the To what your nature is allied \ Grave Evil-bode, the owl, To thankfulness, or even pity, Nibble-stitch, Thief the rat, Can cats be ever bound by treaty ? And Madam Weasel, prim and fine, Inhabited a rotten pine. Alliance from necessity their discover'd A man home there, Is safe just while it has to be. 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 XXIII.—THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER. For morning's feeble ray, The noose did suddenly surprise her. With mighty rush and roar, Waked by her strangling cry, Adown a mountain steep

Gray Nibble-stitch drew nigh : A torrent tumbled,—swelling o'er As full of joy was he Its rugged banks,—and bore As of despair was she, Vast ruin in its sweep. For in the noose he saw The traveller were surely rash His foe of mortal paw. To brave its whirling, foaming dash, Dear friend, said Mrs. Grab-and-Snatch, But one, by robbers sorely press'd, Do, pray, this cursed cord detach. Its terrors haply put to test. I've always known your skill, They were but threats of foam and sound, And often your good-will The loudest where the least profound. Now help me from this worst of snares, With courage from his safe success, In which I fell at unawares. His foes continuing to press,

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He met a river in his course : Of beasts, the dog may claim to be deep, pattern On stole its waters, calm and The of fidelity ; So silently they seem'd asleep, But, for our teaching little wiser, All sweetly cradled, as I ween, He 's both a fool and gormandiser. In sloping banks, and gravel clean, For proof, I cite two mastiffs, that espied They threaten'd neither man nor horse. A dead ass floating on a water wide.

Both ventured ; but the noble steed, The distance growing more and more, That saved from robbers by his speed, Because the wind the carcass bore, From that deep water could not save My friend, said one, your eyes are best to Stygian let them on the Both went drink the wave ; Pray water rest

Both went to cross, (but not to swim,) What thing is that I seem to see ?

Where reigns a monarch stern and grim, An ox, or horse ? what can it be ?

Far other streams than ours. Hey ! cried his mate ; what matter which,

Provided we could get a flitch ? dangerous powers Still men are men of ; It doubtless is our lawful prey : Elsewhere, 'tis^only ignorance that cowers. The puzzle is to find some way To get the prize ;' for wide the space To swim, with wind against your face*.

Let's drink the flood ; our thirsty throats XXIV.—EDUCATION. Will gain the end as well as boats. The water swallow'd, by and bye We'll have the carcass, high and dry La pluck and Caesar brothers were, descended Enough to last a week, at least. From dogs by Fame the most commended, Both drank as some do at a feast Who falling, in their puppyhood, Their breath was quench'd before their thirst, To different masters anciently,

r And presently the creatures burst ! One dwelt and hunted in the. boundless w ood ; From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. And such is man. Whatever he

At first, each had another name ; May set his soul to do or be, But, by their bringing up, it came, To him is possibility. his While one improved upon nature, How many vows he makes !

The other grew a sordid creature, How many steps he takes ! Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, How does he strive, and pant, and strain. The name ungracious ever stuck. Fortune's or Glory's prize to gain To high exploits his brother grew, If round my farm off well I must, Put many a stag at bay, and tore Or fill my coffers with the dust, Full many a trophy from the boar ; Or master Hebrew, science, history, In short, him first, of all his crew, I make my task to drink the sea.

The world as Caesar knew ; One spirit's projects to fulfil,

And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, Four bodies would require ; and still His noble blood should e'er degenerate. The work would stop half-done ;

Not so with his neglected brother ; The lives of four Methuselahs,

He made whatever came a mother ; Placed end to end for use, alas ! And, by the laws of population, Would not suffice the wants of one. His race became a countless nation The common turnspits throughout France Where danger is, they don't advance: XXVI.—DEMOCRITUS AND THE PEOPLE OP Precisely the antipodes ABDEPvA. Of what we call the Caesars, these

How do I hate the tide of vulgar thought ! Oft falls the son below his sire's estate Profane, unjust, with childish folly fraught, Through want of care all things degenerate. It breaks and bends the rays of truth divine, For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts, And by its own conceptions measures mine. What crowdsfrom gods become mere kitchen thrifts! Famed Epicurus' master tried The power of this unstable tide. His country said the sage was mad—

The simpletons ! But why XXV.—THE TWO DOGS AND THE DEAD ASS. No prophet ever honour had Beneath his native sky. Democritus, in truth, The Virtues should be sisters, hand in hand, was wise ; Since banded brothers all the Vices stand The mass were mad, with faith in lies. ; When one of these our hearts attacks, So far this error went,

All come in file ; there only lacks, That all Abdera sent From out the cluster, here and there, To old Hippocrates A mate of some antagonising pair, To cure the sad disease. That can't agree the common roof to share. Our townsman, said the messengers, But all the Virtues, as a sisterhood, Appropriately shedding tears, Have scarcely ever in one subject stood. * Did La Fontaine, to enhance the foll'y of these dogs, find one brave, but passionate We ; make them had judges of the course of the wind, or did ho Another prudent, but ingrate. forget what he had said a few lines ahove? Translator.

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Hath lost his wits ! Democritus, Ah ! death may take you on the way, By study spoil'd, is lost to us. Why not enjoy, I ask, to-day ? Were he but fill'd with ignorance, Lest envious fate your hopes ingulf, We should esteem him less a dunce. As once it served the hunter and the wolf. He saith that worlds like this exist, The former, with his fatal bow,

An absolutely endless list, A noble deer had laid full low : And peopled, even, it may be, A fawn approach'd, and quickly lay

With countless hosts as wise as we ! Companion of the dead, But, not contented with such dreams, For side by side they bled. His brain with viewless " atoms" teems, Could one have wish'd a richer prey ? Instinct with deathless life, it seems. Such luck had been enough to sate And, never strmng from the sod below, A hunter wise and moderate.

He weighs and measures all the stars ; Meantime a boar, as big as e'er was taken, And, while he knows the universe, Our archer tempted, proud, and fond of bacon. Himself he doth not know. Another candidate for Styx, Though now his lips he strictly bars, Struck by his arrow, foams and kicks. He once delighted to converse. But strangely do the shears of Fate Come, godlike mortal, try thy art divine To cut his cable hesitate. Where traits of worst insanity combine. Alive, yet dying, there he lies, Small faith the great physician lent, A glorious and a dangerous prize.

But still, perhaps more readily, he went. And was not this enough ? Not quite, strange fill And mark what meetings To a conqueror's appetite ; Chance causes in this world of change I For, ere the boar was dead, he spied Hippocrates arrived in season, A partridge by a furrow's side Just as his patient (void of reason !) A trifle to his other game.

Was searching whether reason's home, Once more his bow he drew ; In talking animals and dumb, The desperate boar upon him came,

Be in the head, or in the heart, And in his dying vengeance slew : Or in some other local part. The partridge thank' d him as she flew. All calmly seated in the shade, Thus much is to the covetous address'd Where brooks their softest music made, ; The miserly shall have the rest. He traced, with study most insane,

The convolutions of a brain ; A wolf, in passing, saw that woeful sight. And at his feet lay many a scroll Fortune, cried the savage, with delight, The works of sages on the soul. A fane to thee I'll build outright was he, Indeed, so much absorb'd Four carcasses ! how rich ! but spare His friend, at first, he did not see. I'll make them last—such luck is rare, A pair so admirably match'd, (The miser's everlasting plea.) Their compliments erelong despatch'd. They'll last a month, for— let me see In time and talk, as well as dress, One, two, three, four—the weeks are four,, The wise are frugal, I confess. If I can count—and some days more. Dismissing trifles , they began Well, two days hence At once with eagerness to scan And I'll commence.

The life, and soul, and laws of man ; Meantime, the string upon this bow Nor stopp'd till they had travell'd o'er all I'll stint myself to eat The ground, from physical to moral. For by its mutton-smell I know My time and space would fail 'Tis made of entrails sweet. To give the full detail. His entrails rued the fatal weapon, Which, while he heedlessly did step on, But I have said enough to show The arrow pierced his bowels deep, How little 'tis the people know. And laid him lifeless on the heap. How true, then, goes the saw abroad—

Their voice is but the voice of God ! Hark, stingy souls ! insatiate leeches I Our text this solemn duty teaches,

Enjoy the present ; do not wait To share the wolf's or hunter's fate. XXVII.—THE WOLF AND THE HUNTER.

Thou lust of gain,—foul fiend, whose evil eyes Regard as nought the blessings of the skies, Must I forever battle thee in vain ? BOOK IX. How long demandest thou to gain The meaning of my lessons plain ? I.—THE FAITHLESS DEPOSITARY. Will constant getting never cloy ? Will man ne'er slacken to enjoy ? Thanks to Memory's daughters nine,

: Haste, friend ; thou hast not long to live : Animals have graced my line Let me the precious word repeat, Higher heroes in my story And listen to it, I entreat Might have won me less of glory. A richer lesson none can give Wolves, in language of the sky, The sovereign antidote for sorrow Talk with dogs throughout my verse j ENJOY I will.— But when ?—To-morrow.— Beasts with others shrewdly vie,

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Representing chai'acters ; The how of it, the man replied,

Fools in furs not second-hand. Is not my province to decide ;

Sages hoof d or feather'd, stand : I know I saw your son arise, Fewer truly are the latter. Borne through the air before my eyes. More the former—ay, and fatter. Why should it seem a strange affair, Flourish also in my scene Mereover, in a country where Tyrants, villains, mountebanks, A single rat contrives to eat Beasts incapable of thanks, A hundred pounds of iron meat, Beasts of rash and reckless pranks, That owls should be of strength to lift ye

sly weighs fifty ? Beasts of and flattering mien ; A booby boy that but Troops of liars, too, I ween. The other plainly saw the trick, As to men, of every age, Restored the iron very quick, All are liars, saith the sage. And got, with shame as well as joy, Had he writ but of the low, Possession of his kidnapp'd boy.

One could hardly think it so ; But that human mortals, all, The like occurr'd two travellers between. Lie like serpents, great and small, One was of those Had another certified it, Who wear a microscope, I ween, I, for one, should have denied it. Each side the nose. He who lies in ^Esop's way, Would you believe their tales romantic, Or like Homer, minstrel gray, « Our Europe, in its monsters, beats Is no liar, sooth to say. The lands that feel the tropic heats, Charms that bind us like a dream, Surcharged with all that is gigantic. Offspring of their happy art, This person, feeling free Cloak'd in fiction, more than seem To use the trope hyperbole, Truth to offer to the heart. Had seen a cabbage with his eyes Both have left us works which 1 Exceeding any house in size. Think unworthy e'er to die. And I have seen, the other cries, Liar call not him who squares Resolved to leave his fellow in the lurch, All his ends aims A pot that would have held a church. and with theirs ; But from sacred truth to vary, Why, friend, don't give that doubting look.— Like the false depositary, The pot was made your cabbages to cook. Is to be, by every rule This pot-discoverer was a wit Both a liar and a fool. The iron-monger, too, was wise. lies The story goes : To such absurd and ultra A man of trade, Their answers were exactly fit. In Persia, with his neighbour made 'Twere doing honour overmuch, Deposit, as he left the state, To reason or dispute with such. Of iron, say a hundredweight. To overbid them is the shortest path, Return'd, said he, My iron, neighbour. And less provocative of wrath.

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, II.—THE TWO DOVES. Was left, as one is wont to be In every barn or granary, Two doves once cherish'd for each other By which crept in that cursed rat. The love that brother hath for brother. Admiring much the novel thief, But one, of scenes domestic tiring, The man affected full belief. To see the foreign world aspiring, Ere long, his faithless neighbour's child Was fool enough to undertake He stole away,— a heavy lad, A journey long, o'er land and lake. plan is this ? the cried xVnd then to supper bade the dad, What other ;

Who thus plead off in accents sad : Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side ? is It was but yesterday I had This absence the worst of ills ; A boy as fine as ever smiled, Thy heart may bear, but me it kills. An only son, as dear as life, Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care, The darling of myself and wife. Of which all travellers tell,

Alas ! we have him now no more, Your courage somewhat quell. And every joy with us is o'er. Still, if the season later were Replied the merchant, Yesternight, wait the zephyrs ! —hasten not By evening's faint and dusky ray, Just now the raven, on his oak, I saw a monstrous owl alight, In hoarser tones than usual spoke. And bear your darling son away My heart forebodes the saddest lot,

To yonder tottering ruin gray. The falcons, nets — Alas, it rains ! Can I believe you, when you say My brother, are thy wants supplied

An owl bore off so large a prey ? Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide,

How could it be ? the father And all that unto health pertains \ cried ; The thing is surely quite These words occasion'd some demur absurd ; In our imprudent traveller. My son with ease had kill'd the bird. |

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But restless curiosity Or arch celestial, paved with gold,

Prevailed at last ; and so said he, The presence of those woods have sold, The matter is not worth a sigh And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which Three days, at most, will satisfy, Were by the joyful steps made rich, And then, returning, I shall tell And smiled beneath the charming eyes You all the wonders that hefell, Of her who made my heart a prize With scenes enchanting and sublime To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, Shall sweeten all our coming time. And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath.

Who seeth nought, hath nought to say. Ah, when will time such moments bring again ? My travel's course, from day to day, To me are sweet and charming objects vain Will he the source of great delight. My soul forsaking to its restless mood \ A store of tales I shall relate, 0, did my wither'd heart but dare Say there I lodged at such a date, To kindle for the bright and good,

And saw there such and such a sight. Should not I find the charm still there ?

You'll think it all occurr'd to you. Is love, to me, with things that were ? On this, both, weeping, bade adieu. Away the lonely wanderer flew. «

A thundei'-cloud began to lower ; He sought, as shelter from the shower, m.—THE MONKEY AND TKE LEOPARD. The only tree that graced the plain, Whose leaves ill turn'd the pelting rain. A monkey and a leopard were The sky once more serene above, The rivals at a country fair. On flew our drench'd and dripping dove, Each advertised his own attractions. And dried his plumage as he could. Said one, Good sirs, the highest place

Next, on the borders of a wood, My fiierit knows ; for, of his grace. He spied scatter'd grains of wheat, king hath seen face to face some The me ; Which one, he thought, might safely eat And, judging by his looks and actions, For there another dove he saw. I gave the best of satisfactions.

He felt the snare around him draw ! When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, This wheat was but a treacherous bait My skin will make his royal muff. To lure poor pigeons to then* fate. So richly is it streak'd and spotted, The snare had been so long in use, So delicately waved and dotted,

With beak and wings he struggled loose : Its various beauty cannot fail to please. Some feathers perish' d while it stuck And, thus invited, everybody sees ; ; But, what was worst in point of luck, But soon they see, and soon depart. A hawk, the cruellest of foes, The monkey's show-bill to the mart Perceived him clearly as he rose, His merits thus sets forth the while. Off dragging, like a runaway, All in his own peculiar style :

A piece of string. The bird of prey Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come ; Had bound him, in a moment more, In magic arts I am at home. Much faster than he was before, The whole variety in which But from the clouds an eagle came, My neighbour boasts himself so rich, And made the hawk himself his game. Is to his simple skin confined, By war of robbers profiting, While mine is living in the mind. The dove for safety plied the wing, Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille, And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, The son-in-law to Tickleville, Believed his dangers ended all. Pope's monkey, and of great renown, A roguish boy had there a sling, Is now just freshly come to town, (Age pitiless Arrived in three bateaux, express,

We must confess,) Your worships to address ;

And, by a most unlucky fling, For he can speak, you understand ; kiird dance, practise sleight of hand Half "our hapless dove ; Can and ;

Who now, no more in love Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks ;

With foreign travelling, In short, can do a thousand tricks ; And lame in leg and wing, And all for blancos six Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, Not, messieurs, for a sou. Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, And, if you think the price won't do, In truly sad and piteous plight. When you have seen, then he'll restore The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, Each man his money at the door. What pleasure might their pains repay. The ape was not to reason blind Ah, happy lovers, would you roam ? ; who in wealth of dress can find Pray, let it not be far from home. For dwell in wealth ? To each the other ought to be Such charms as of mind our ever-new desires, A world of beauty ever new' One meets In each the other ought to see The other in a moment tires. The whole of what is good and true. Alas ! how many lords there are, Of mighty sway and lofty mien,

Myself have loved ; nor would I then, Who, like this leopard at the fan-,

For all the wealth of crowned men, Show all their talents on the skin !

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The latter came, and came attended IV.—TIIE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN. By all the urchins of his school, And. thus one plunderer's mischief mended God's works are good. This truth to prove By pouring hi an orchard-full. Around the world I need not move ; It seems the pedant was intent I do it by the nearest pumpkin. On making public punishment, This fruit so large, on vine so small, To teach his boys the force of law, Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin And strike their roguish hearts with awe. What could He mean who made us all ? The use of which he first must show He's left this pumpkin out of place. From Virgil and from Cicero, If I had order'd in the case, And many other ancients noted, Upon that oak it should have hung From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted. A noble fruit as ever swung So long, indeed, his lecture lasted, To grace a tree so firm and strong. While not a single urchin fasted, Indeed, it was a great mistake, That, ere its close, their thievish crimes As this discovery teaches, Were multiplied a hundred times. That I myself did not partake curate preaches. His counsels whom my I hate all eloquence and reason All things had then in order come ; Expended plainly out of season. This acorn, for example, Of all the beasts that earth have cursed Not bigger than thumb, my While they have fed on 't, Had" not disgraced a tree so ample. The school-boy strikes me as the worst The more I think, the more I wonder Except the pedant. To see outraged proportion's laws, The better of these neighbours two that without the slightest cause And ; For me, I'm sure, would never do. 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. n.—TEE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, JUPITER.

An acorn fell : he waked, and in A block of marble was so fine, The matted beard that graced his chhi, To buy it did a sculptor hasten. He found the cause of such a bruise What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine— As made him different language use. A god, a table, or a basin ? ! ! he cried ; I bleed ! I bleed !

And this is what has done the deed ! A god, said he, the thing shall be But, truly, what had been my fate, ; I'll arm it, too, with thunder. Had this had half a pumpkin's weight Let people quake, and bow the knee 1 see that God had reasons good, With reverential wonder. And all his works well understood. Thus home he went in humbler mood. So well the cunning artist wrought All things within a mortal's reach, That soon the marble wanted nought Of being Jupiter, but speech. THE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN. Indeed, the man whose skill did make Had scarcely laid his chisel clown, A boy who savour'd of his school, Before himself began to quake, A double rogue and double fool, And fear his manufacture's frown. By youth and by the privilege Which pedants have, by ancient right, And even this excess of faith To alter reason and abridge, The poet once scarce fell behind, A neighbour robb'd, with fingers light, The hatred fearing, and the wrath, Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had, Of gods the product of his mind. Of fruits that make the autumn glad, The very best — and none but he. This trait we see in infancy Each season brought, from plant and tree, Between the baby and its doll,

To him its tribute ; for, in spring, Of wax or china, it may be His was the brightest blossoming. A pocket stuff'd, or folded shawl. One day, he saw our hopeful lad Perch'd on the finest tree he had, Imagination rules the heart Not only stuffing down the fruit, And here we find the fountain head But spoiling, like a Vandal brute, From whence the pagan errors start, The buds that play advance-courier That o'er the teeming nations spread. Of plenty in the coming year. The branches, too, he rudely tore, With violent and flaming zeal, And carried things to such a pass, Each takes his own chimera's part The owner sent his servant o'er Pygmalion doth a passion feel To tell the master of his class. For Venus chisel'd by his art.

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All men, as far as in them lies, But all of this beneath the rose. Create realities of dreams. One smacketh ever of the place first To truth our nature proves but ice ; Where he show'd the world his face. To falsehood, fire it seems. 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.

VII.—THE MOUSE METAMORPHOSED INTO A Would not prefer to wed some cooler one \ MAID. And doth a flea's exceed a giant's might,

Because the former can the latter bite ? A mouse once from an owl's beak fell And, by the rule of strength, the rat I'd not have pick'd it up, I wis Had sent his bride cat to wed the ; A Bramin did it : very well From cat to dog, and onward still Each country has its prejudice. To wolf or tiger, if you will The mouse, indeed, was sadly bruised. Indeed, the fabulist migh* run Although, as neighbours, we are used A circle backward to the sun. To be more kind to many others, But to the change the tale supposes, The Bramins treat the mice as brothers. In learned phrase, metempsychosis. The notion haunts their heads, that when The very thing the wizard did The soul goes forth from dying men, Its falsity exposes It enters worm, or bird, or beast, If that indeed were ever hid. is pleased As Providence or Fate ; According to the Bramin's plan, And on this mystery rests their law, The proud aspiring soul of man, Which from Pythagoras they're said to draw. And souls that dwell in humbler forms And hence the Bramin kindly pray'd Of rats and mice, and even worms, To one who knew the wizard's trade, All issue from a common source, To give the creature, wounded sore, And, hence, they are the same of course. The form in which it lodged before. Unequal but by accident Forthwith the mouse became a maid, Of organ and of tenement, Of years about fifteen ; They use one pair of legs, or two, A lovelier was never seen. Or e'en with none contrive to do, She would have waked, I ween, As tyrant matter binds them to. In Priam's son, a fiercer flame Why, then, could not so fine a frame Than did the beauteous Grecian dame. Constrain its heavenly guest Surprised at such a novelty, To wed the solar flame ? The Bramin to the damsel cried, A rat her love possess'd. Your choice is free For every he In all respects, compared and weigh'd, Will seek you for his bride. The souls of men and souls of mice Said she, Am I to have a voice ? Quite different are made, The strongest, then, shall be my choice. Unlike in sort as well as size. sun ! the Bramin cried, this maid is thine, Each fits and fills its destined part And thou shalt be a son-in-law of mine. As Heaven doth well provide ; No, said the sun, this murky cloud, it seems, Nor witch, nor fiend, nor magic art, In strength exceeds me, since he hides my beams Can set their laws aside. And him I counsel you to take. Again the reverend Bramin spake cloud, on-flying with thy stores of water,

Pray wast thou born to wed my daughter ? VIII.—THE FOOL WHO SOLD WISDOM. Ah, no, alas ! for, you may see, The wind is far too strong for me.

My claims with Boreas' to compare, Of fools come never in the reach : I must confess, I do not dare. No rule can I more wisely teach. wind, then cried the Bramin, vex'd, Nor can there be a better one And wondering what would hinder next, Than this,—distemper'd heads to shun. Approach, and, with thy sweetest air, We often see them, high and low. Embrace—possess— the fairest fair. They tickle e'en the royal ear, The wind, enraptured, thither blew ; As privileged and free from fear A mountain stopp'd him as he flew, They hurl about them joke and jeer, To him now pass'd the tennis-ball, At pompous lord or silly beau. And from him to a creature small.

Said he, I'd wed the maid, but that A fool, in town, did wisdom cry ; I've had a quarrel with the rat. The people, eager, flock'd to buy. A fool were I to take the bride Each for his money got, From one so sure to pierce my side. Paid promptly on the spot, upon the head, The rat. It thrill' d the damsel's ear ; Besides a box Tljr> name at once seem'd sweet and dear. Two fathoms' length of thread.

Tue rat ! 'Twas one of Cupid's blows The most were vex'd—but quite in vain ; ; like full public only mock'd their pain. The many a maiden knows ; The

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The wiser they who nothing said, The fisherman had reason good But pocketed the box and thread. The troutling did the best he could To search the meaning of the thing Both argued for their lives. Would only laughs and hisses bring. Now, if my present purpose thrives, Hath reason ever guaranteed I'll prop my former proposition The wit of fools in speech or deed ? By building on a small addition. 'Tis said of brainless heads in France, A certain wolf, in point of wit The cause of what they do is chance. The prudent fisher's opposite, One dupe, however, needs must know A dog once finding far astray, What meant the thread, and what the blow Prepared to take him as his prey. The dog his leanness. pled So ask'd a sage, to make it sure. ; They're both hieroglyphics pure, Your lordship, sure, he said, Cannot be very eager The sage replied without delay ; All people well advised will stay To eat a dog so meagre. From fools this fibre's length away, To wait a little do not grudge of Or get—I hold it sure as fate The wedding my master's only daughter fatted slaughter The other symbol on the pate. Will cause of calves and fowls a ; So far from cheating you of gold, And then, as you yourself can judge, The fool this wisdom fairly sold. I cannot help becoming fatter. The wolf, believing, waived the matter, And so, some days therefrom, Return' d with sole design to see IX.—THE OYSTER AND THE LITIGANTS. If fat enough his dog might be.

The rogue was now at home : Two pilgrims on the sand espied He saw the hunter through the fence. An oyster thrown up by the tide. My friend, said he, please wait ocean's fruit In hope, both swallow'd ; I'll be with you a moment hence, But ere the fact there came dispute. And fetch our porter of the gate. While one stoop'd down to take the prey, This porter was a dog immense, The other push'd him quite away. That left to wolves no future tense. Said he, 'twere rather meet Suspicion gave our wolf a jog, To settle which shall eat. It might not be so safely tamper'd. Why, he who first the oyster saw My service to your porter dog, Should be its eater, by the law Was his reply, as off he scamper'd. The other should but see him do it. His legs proved better than his head, Replied his mate, if thus you view it, And saved him life to learn his trade. 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, XL-NOTHING TOO MUCH. I saw it then, and felt it too. Amidst this sweet affair, Look where we will throughout creation, Arrived a person very big, We look in vain for moderation. Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig. There is a certain golden mean, They .made him judge,—to set the matter square. Which Nature's sovereign Lord, I ween, Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, Design'd the path of all forever.

Took up the oyster and the case : Doth one pursue it ! Never. In opening both, the first he swallow'd, E'en things which by their nature bless, And, in due time, his judgment follow'd. Are turn'd to curses by excess.

Attend : the court awards you each a shell

Cost free ; depart in peace, and use them well. The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, Foot up the cost of suits at law, Green waving in the genial air, The leavings reckon and awards, By overgrowth exhausts the soil The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw, By superfluity of leaves And leave the parties—purse and cards. 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. X.—THE WOLF AND THE LEAN DOG. The grain within due bounds to keep, Their Maker licenses the sheep A troutling, some time since*, The leaves excessive to retrench. Endeavour'd vainly to convince In troops they spread across the plain, A hungry fisherman And, nibbling down the hapless grain, Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. Contrive to spoil it, root and branch. That controversy made it plain That letting go a good secure, So, then, with licence from on high, In hope of uture gain, The wolves are sent on sheep to prey ; Is but imprudence pure. The whole the greedy gluttons slay if don't, try. * Sec Book V. Fable III. Or, they they

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66 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [rook ix.

Next, men are sent on wolves to take From half a dozen beefless bones.

The vengeance now condign : Great Jove, said he, behold my vow ! In turn the same abuse they make The fumes of beef thou breathest now

Of this behest divine. Are all thy godship ever owns : From debt I therefore stand acquitted. Of animals, the human kind With seeming smile, the god submitted, Are to excess the most inclined. But not long after caught him well, On low and high we make the charge, By sending him a dream, to tell Indeed, upon the race at large. Of treasure hid. Off ran the bar, There liveth not the soul select As if to quench a house on fire, That sinneth not in this respect. And on a band of robbers fell. Of " Nought too much," the fact is, As but a crown he had that day. All preach the truth,—none practise. 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, Xn.-THE WAX-CANDLE. Said one, If we should suffer you to,

You'd cheaply get us all detected ; From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. Go, then, and bear your gold to Pluto. On Mount Hymettus, 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, XIV.—THE CAT AND THE FOX. Or, as in French the thing's explain' When hives were of their honey drain'd, The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage, The spoilers 'gan the wax to handle, Together went on pilgrimage. And fashion'd from it many a candle. Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they, Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire, By sleight of face and sleight of paw, Remain uninjured by the teeth of time, Regardless both of right and law, Was kindled into great desire Contrived expenses to repay, For immortality sublime. By eating many a fowl and cheese, And so this new Empedocles And other tricks as bad as these. Upon the blazing pile one sees, Disputing served them to beguile Self-doom' d by purest folly The road of many a weary mile. To fate so melancholy. Disputing ! but for this resort, world- to sleep, in short. The candle lack'd philosophy : The would go All things are made diverse to be. Our pilgrims, as a thing of course, To wander from our destined tracks Disputed till their throats were hoarse. There cannot be a vainer wish Then, dropping to a lower tone, But this Empedocles of wax, They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, That melted in the chafing-dish, Till Renard whisper'd to the cat, Was truly not a greater fool You think yourself a knowing one : Than he of whom we read at school. How many cunning tricks have you 1 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 XIIL-JUPITER AND THE PASSENGER, And, truth to honour, for that matter, I hold it than a thousand better.

How danger would the gods enrich, In fresh dispute they sided ; If we the vows remember'd which And loudly were they at it, when

It drives us to ! But, danger past. Approach'd a mob of dogs and men. Kind Providence is paid the last. Now, said the cat, your tricks ransack, No earthly debt is treated so. And put your cunning brains to rack,

Now, Jove, the wretch exclaims, will wait One life to save ; I'll show you mine He sends no sheriff to one's gate, A trick," you see, for saving nine. Like creditors below; With that, she climb'd a lofty pine. But let me ask the dolt The fox his hundred ruses tried, What means the thunderbolt And yet no safety found. A hundred times he falsified A passenger, endanger'd by the sea, The nose of every hound. Had vow'd a hundred oxen good Was here, and there, and everywhere,

To him who quell' d old Terra's brood. Above, and under ground ;

He had not one : as well might he But yet to stop he did not dare. Have vow'd a hundred elephants. Pent in a hole, it was no joke Arrived on shore, his good intents To meet the terriers or the smoke. Were dwindled to the smoke which rose So, leaping into upper air, An offering merely for the nose, He met two dogs, that choked him there.

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Expedients may be too many, Concluded his accounts to square, Consuming time to choose and try. Since, should he not, he understood, On one, but that as good as any, From various tokens, famine would 'Tis best in danger to rely. A death for which no mortal wight Had ever any appetite. A rum, crown'd with ivy green, Was of his tragedy the scene. XV.—THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE His hangman's noose he duly tied,

THIEF. And then to drive a nail he tried ; A man that loved,—and loved his wife, But by his blows the wall gave way, Still led an almost joyless life. Now tremulous and old, No tender look, nor gracious word, Disclosing to the light of day Nor smile, that, coming from a bride, A sum of hidden gold. Its object would have deified, He clutch'd it up, and left Despair E'er told her doting lord To struggle with his halter there. The love with which he burn'd Nor did the much delighted man E'en stop to count it as Was in its kind return'd. he ran. Still unrepining at his lot, But, while he went, the owner came, This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot, Who loved it with a secret flame, for Thank'd God for all the good he got. Too much indeed kissing,

And found his money-^-missing ! But why ? If love doth fail to season Whatever pleasures Hymen gives, Heavens ! he cried, shall I I'm sure I cannot see the reason Such riches lose, and still not die 1 Why one for him the happier lives. Shall I not hang ? —as I, in fact, Might justly do if cord I lack'd However, since his wife ; But now, without expense I can Had ne'er caress'd him in her life, ; This lacks He made complaint of it one night. cord here only a man. The saving was no saving clause The entrance of a thief ; Cut short his tale of grief, It suffer' d not his heart to falter, And gave the lady such a fright, Until it reach'd his final pause She shrunk from dreaded harms As full possessor of the halter. Within her husband's arms. 'Tis thus the miser often grieves, Good thief, cried he, Who e'er the benefit receives Of what he owns, he never must This joy so sweet, I owe to thee : Now take, as thy reward, Mere treasurer for thieves, relatives, Of all that owns me lord, Or or dust. But what say we about the trade Whatever suits thee save my spouse ; In this affair 2 Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house. by Fortune made As thieves are not remarkably Why, what but that it was just like her ? O'erstock'd with modesty, In freaks like this delighteth she. This fellow made quite free. The shorter any turn may be, The better it is sure to strike her. this it From account doth appear, It fills that goddess full of glee The passions all are ruled by fear. A self-suspended man to see ; Aversion may be conquer'd by it, And that it does especially, And even love may not defy it. When made so unexpectedly. 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, XVII.—THE MONKEY AND THE CAT. And all to clasp a certain dame, And bear her harmless through the flame. Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, This transport through the fire, (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) I I own, much admire ; Co-servants and lodgers And for a Spanish soul reputed coolish, More mischievous codgers I think it grander even than 'twas foolish*. Ne'er mess'd from a platter, since platters were flat. Was any thing wrong in the house or about it, The neighbours were blameless, —no mortal could doubt it XVI.—THE TREASURE AND THE TWO MEN. For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice, More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice. A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, One day the two plunderers sat the fire, Who lodged the devil in his purse, by Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. That is to say, lodged nothing there, steal them would be right noble affair. By self-suspension in the air To a A double inducement our heroes drew there * La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of the 'T would benefit them, could they swallow their fill, Villa with Elizabeth of France, Spanish Count Medina And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. wife of Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited Said Bertrand to Ratto, My brother, to-day the Spanish court to a splendid entertainment in his Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, palace, had it set on fire, that he might personally rescue And take me these chestnuts, I pray. the said lady from its flames.

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53 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book X.

Which were I but otherwise fitted When Willy thus had duly said (As I am ingeniously witted) His eulogy upon the dead, For pulling things out of the flame, And unto everlasting fame Would stand but a pitiful game. Consign'd poor Robin Wether's name,

'Tis done, replied Ratto, all prompt to obey ; He then harangued the flock at large, And thrust out his paw in a delicate way. From proud old chieftain rams First giving the ashes a scratch, Down to the smallest lambs, He open'd the coveted batch Addressing them this weighty charge, Then lightly and quickly impinging, Against the wolf, as one, to stand, He drew out, in spite of the singeing, In firm, united, fearless band, One after another, the chestnuts at last, By which they might expel him from their land. While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast. Upon their faith, they would not flinch, A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun. They promised him, a single inch. Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one. We'll choke, said they, the murderous glutton Who robb'd us of our Robin Mutton. No more are the princes, by flattery paid Their lives they pledged against the beast, For furnishing help in a different trade, And Willy gave them all a feast. And burning their fingers to bring But evil Fate, than Phoebus faster, power to some mightier king. More 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, XVIII.—THE KITE AND THE NIGHTINGALE. But shadow of him from the setting sun.

A noted thief, the kite, Harangue a craven soldiery, Had set a neighbourhood in fright, What heroes they will seem to be ! And raised the clamorous noise But let them snuff the smoke of battle, all the village boys, Of Or even hear the ramrods rattle, When, by misfortune,—sad to say, Adieu to all their spunk and mettle : fell in his way. A nightingale Your own example will be vain, hei'ald begg'd him not to eat Spring's And exhortations, to retain for A bird for music—not meat. The timid cattle. O spare ! cried she, and I'll relate The crime of Tereus and his fate. What's Tereus ? Is it food for kites % — No, but a king, of female rights The villain spoiler, whom I taught A lesson with repentance fraught ; BOOK X. And, should it please you not to kill, My song about his fall I.—THE TWO RATS, THE FOX, AND THE EGG. Your very heart shall thrill, As it, indeed, does all. ADDRESS TO MADAME DE LA SABLIERE. Replied the kite, Pretty thing, Iris, easy When I am faint and famishing, You, 'twere an task to praise ; To let you go, and hear you sing ? But you refuse the incense of my lays.

Ah, but I entertain the king ! In this you are unlike all other mortals, Well, when he takes you, let him hear Who welcome all the praise that seeks their Your tale, full wonderful, no doubt portals For me, a kite, I'll go without. Not one who is not soothed by sound so sweet. An empty stomach hath no ear. 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 XIX.—THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK. That cheers the god who deals the thunder-blow, And oft intoxicates the gods below,

What ! shall I lose them one by one, The nectar, Iris, is of praises made.

This stupid coward throng ? You taste it not. But, in its place,

And never shall the wolf have done ? Wit, science, even trifles grace

They were at least a thousand strong, Your bill of fare ; but, for that matter,

But still they've let poor Robin fall a prey ! The world will not believe the latter. Ah, woe's the day Well, leave the world in unbelief.

Poor Robin Wether lying dead ! Still science, trifles, fancies light as air, He follow' d for a bit of bread I hold, should mingle in a bill of fare, His .master through the crowded city, Each giving each its due relief ; And would have follow'd, had he led, As, where the gifts of Flora fall,

Around the world. ! what a pity ! On different flowers we see pipe, step, My and even he knew ; Alight the busy bee, To meet me when I came, he flew all. ; Educing sweet from In hedge-row shade we napp'd together premised, it strange, ; Thus much don't think Alas, alas, my Robin Wether ! Or aught beyond my muse's range,

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If e'en my fables should infold, The substituting fresher bait, Among their nameless trumpery, Were worthy of a man of state

The traits of a philosophy And worthy of a better fate ! Far-famed as subtle, charming, bold. To yield to rascal dogs his breath of wit Is all the They call it new— the men ; honour of his death. Perhaps you have not heard of it* ? And when the partridge danger spies, My verse will tell you what it means : Before her brood have strength to rise, wisely They say that beasts are mere machines ; She counterfeits a wound, That, in their doings, everything And drags her wing upon the ground Is done by virtue of a spring Thus, from her home, beside some ancient leg, soul, notion Safe drawing off the sportsman his No sense, no nor ; and dog ; But matter merely,—set in motion, And while the latter seems to seize her, Just such the watch in kind, The victim of an easy chase Which joggeth on, to purpose blind. Your teeth are not for such as me, sir, Now ope, and read within its breast — She cries, The place of soul is by its wheels possess'd. And flies, One moves a second, that a third, And laughs the former in his face. Till finally its sound is heard. And now the beast, our sages say, Far north, 'tis said, the people live In customs nearly primitive Is moved precisely in this way. ; That is to say, are bound An object strikes it in a certain place : The spot thus struck, without a moment's space, In ignorance profound : I mean the people human To neighbouring parts the news conveys ; ; Thus sense receives it through the chain, For animals are dwelling there skill such buildings to prepare And takes impression.—How ? Explain. With Not I. They say, by sheer necessity, As could on earth but few men. From will as well as passion free, Firm laid across the torrent's course, The animal is found the thrall Their work withstands its mighty force, Of movements which the vulgar call So damming it from shore to shore, Joy, sadness, pleasux-e, pain, and love That, gliding smoothly o'er, The cause extrinsic and above. In even sheets the waters pour. Believe it not. What's this I hold ? Their work, as it proceeds, they grade and bevel, it to level Why, sooth, it is a watch of gold- Or bring up plumb or ; Its life, the mere unbending of a spring. First lay their logs, and then with mortar smear, And we \— are quite a different thing. As if directed by an engineer. Descartes, all applaud, Each labours for the public good i Hear how Descartes— whom Whom pagans would have made a god, The old command, the youthful brood Who holds, in fact, the middle place Cut down, and shape, and place the wood. 'Twixt ours and the celestial race, Compared with theirs, e'en Plato's model state About as does the plodding ass Were but the work of some apprentice pate. From man to oyster as you pass Such are the beaver folks, who know

Hear how this author states the case : Enough to house themselves from snow, Of all the tribes to being brought And bridge, though they can swim, the pools. By our Creator out of nought, Meanwhile, our kinsmen are such fools, I only have the gift of thought. In spite of their example, Now, Iris, you will recollect They dwell in huts less ample, We were by older science taught And cross the streams by swimming, That when brutes think, they don't reflect. However cold and brimming Deseartes proceeds beyond the wall, Now that the skilful beaver, And says they do not think at all. Is but a body void of spirit, This believe From whomsoever I might hear it, you with ease ; And so could I, if I should please. I would believe it never. Still, in the forest, when, from morn But I go farther in the case. Till midday, sounds of dog and horn Pray listen while I tell terrified Have the stag forlorn ; thing which lately fell When he has doubled forth and back, A From one of truly royal racef And labour'd to confound his track, A prince beloved by Victory, Till tired and spent with efforts vain The north's defender here shall be An ancient stag, of antlers ten; voucher and your guaranty He puts a younger in his place, My ; Whose mighty name alone All fresh, to weary out the chase. Commands the sultan's throne, What thoughts for one that merely grazes ! king whom Poland calls her own. The doublings, turnings, windings, mazes, The This king declares (kings cannot lie, we hear) * Madame de la Sabliere was one of the most learned That, on his own frontier, women of the age in which she lived, and knew more of Some animals there are the philosophy of Descartes, in which she was believer, a Engaged in ceaseless war ; than our poet ; but she dreaded the reputation of a "blue- From age to age the quarrel runs, stocking," and for this reason La Fontaine addresses her Transmitted down from sires to sons as if she might be ignorant of the Cartesian theory. f John Sobieski.

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(These beasts, he says, are to the fox akin ;) Yet beasts must have a place And with more skill no war hath been, Beneath our godlike race, By highest military powers, Which no mere plant requires Conducted in this age of ours. Although the plant respires. Guards, piquets, scouts, and spies, And ambuscade that hidden lies, But what shall one reply

The foe to capture by surprise, To what I next shall certify ? And many a shrewd appliance Two rats in foraging fell on an egg. — Of that pernicious, cursed science, For gentry such as they The daughter of the Stygian wave, A genteel dinner every way ; And mother harsh of heroes brave, They needed not to find an ox's leg. Those military creatures have. Brimful of joy and appetite, To chant their feats a bard we lack, They were about to sack the box, Till Death shall give us Homer back. So tight without the aid of locks, And should he such a wonder do, When suddenly there came in sight And, while his hand was in, release A personage—Sir Pullet Fox. Old Epicurus' rival * too, Sure, luck was never more untoward

What would the latter say to facts like these ? Since Fortune was a vixen froward ! Why, as I've said, that nature does such things How should they save their egg and bacon In animals Their plunder couldn't by means of springs ; then be bagg'd ; That Memory is but corporeal Should it in forward paws be taken,

And that to do the things array 'd Or roll'd along, or dragg'd ? So proudly in my story all, Each method seem'd impossible, The animal but needs her aid. And each was then of danger full. At each return, the object, so to speak, Necessity, ingenious mother, Proceeds directly to her store Brought forth what help'd them from their With keenest optics —there to seek pother. The image it had traced before, As still there was a chance to save their prey, Which, found, proceeds forthwith to act The spunger yet some hundred yards away, Just as at first it did, in fact, One seized the egg, and turn'd upon his back, By neither thought nor reason back'd. And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, Not so with us, beasts That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, perpendicular ; With us kind Heaven is more particular. The other dragg'd him by the tail. Sfelf-ruied by independent mind, Who dares the inference to blink,

We're not the sport of objects blind, That beasts possess wherewith to think ? Nor e'en to instinct are consign'd.

I walk ; I talk ; I feel the sway Were I commission'd to bestow Of power within This power on creatures here below, This nice machine The beasts should have as much of mind It cannot but obey. As infants of the human kind.

This power, although with matter link'd, Think not the latter, from their birth ? Is comprehended as distinct. It hence appears there are on earth Indeed 'tis comprehended better, That have the simple power of thought In truth and essence than is matter. Where reason hath no knowledge wrought. O'er all our arts it is supreme. And on this wise au equal power I'd yield But how doth matter understand To all the various tenants of the field

Or hear its sovereign lord's command ? Not reason such as in ourselves we find,

Here doth a difficulty seem : But something more than any mainspring blind. I see the tool obey the hand A speck of matter I would subtilise ; But then the hand who guideth it Almost beyond the reach of mental eyes ;

Who guides the stars in order fit ? An atom's essence, one might say, Perhaps each mighty world, An extract of a solar ray, Since from its Maker hurl'd, More quick and pungent than a flame of fire, Some angel may have kept in custody. For if of flame the wood is sire, However that may be, Cannot the flame, itself refined,

A spirit dwells in such Give some idea of the mind ? as we ; It moves our limbs feel its Comes not the purest gold ; we mandates now ; We see and know it rules, but know not how From lead, as we are told ? Nor shall we know, indeed, To feel and choose, my work should soar Till in the breast of God we read. Unthinking judgment—nothing more. And, speaking in all verity, No monkey of my manufacture

Descartes is just as ignorant Should argue from his sense or fact, sure : as we ; In things beyond a mortal's ken, But my allotment to mankind He knows no more than other men. Should be of very different mind. But, Iris, I confess to this, We men should share in double measure,

That in the beasts of which I speak Or rather have a twofold treasure ; Such spirit it were vain to seek, The one the soul, the same in all For man its only temple is. That bear the name of animal The sages, dunces, great and small, * Descartes. That tenant this our teeming ball;—

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The other still another soul, The adder 's right, plain truth to bellow Which should to mortals here belong For years I've nursed this haughty fellow, angel throng Who, but for In common with the ; me, had long ago Which, made an independent whole, Been lodging with the shades below. Could pierce the skies to worlds of light, For him my milk has had to flow, Within a point have room to he, My calves at tender age, to die. Its life a morn, sans noon or night. And for this best of wealth, Exempt from all destructive change And often reestablish'd health,

A thing as real as 'tis strange. What pay, or even thanks, have 1 ? Iu infancy this child of day Here, feeble, old, and worn, alas Should glimmer but a feeble ray. I'm left without a bite of grass. Its earthly organs stronger grown, Were I but left, it might be weather'd, The beam of reason, brightly thrown, But, shame to say it, I am tether' d. Should pierce the darkness, thick and gross, And now my fate is surely sadder That holds the other prison'd close. Than if my master were an adder, With brains within the latitude Of such immense ingratitude. is This, gentles, my honest view ; And so I bid you both adieu. II.—THE MAN AND THE ADDER. The man, confounded and astonish'd To be so faithfully admonish'd, You villain ! cried a man who found Replied, What fools to listen, now, An adder coil'd upon the ground, To this old, silly, dotard cow ! grateful To do a very deed Let 's trust the ox. Let 's trust, replied For all the world, I shall proceed. The crawling beast, well gratified. On this the animal perverse So said, so done ; (I the snake mean ; The ox, with tardy pace, came on, Pray don't mistake And, ruminating o'er the case, The human for the worse) Declared, with very serious face, Was caught and bagg'd, and, worst of all, That years of his most painful toil His blood was by his captor to be spilt Had clothed with Ceres' gifts our soil Without regard to innocence or guilt. Her gifts to men—but always sold Howe'er, to show the why, these words let fall To beasts for higher cost than gold ; His judge and jailor, proud and tall : And that for this, for his reward,

Thou type of all ingratitude ! More blows than thanks return'd his lord ; All charity to hearts like thine And then, when age had chill'd his blood, Is folly, certain to be rued. And men would quell the wrath of Heaven, Die, then, Out must be pour'd the vital flood, Thou foe of men ! For others' sins, all thankless given.

Thy temper and thy teeth malign : So spake the ox ; and then the man Shall never hurt a hair of mine. Away with such a dull declaimer ! The muffled serpent, on his side, Instead of judge, it is his plan The best a serpent could, replied, To play accuser and defamer. If all this world's ingrates A tree was next the arbitrator, Must meet with such a death, And made the wrong of man still greater. Who from this worst of fates It served as refuge from the heat, Could save his breath ? The showers, and storms which madly beat thyself thy law recoils Upon ; It grew our gardens' greatest pride, I throw myself upon thy broils, Its shadow spreading far and wide, Thy graceless revelling on spoils ; And bow'd itself with fruit beside : If thou but homeward cast an eye, But yet a mercenary clown Thy deeds all mine will justify. With cruel iron chopp'd it down. But strike : my life is in thy hand Behold the recompense for which, Thy justice, all may understand, Year after year, I did enrich, Is but thy interest, pleasure, or caprice : With spring's sweet flowers, and autumn's fruits, Pronounce my sentence on such laws as these. And summer's shade, both men and brutes, But give me leave to tell thee, while I can, And warm'd the hearth with many a limb The type of all ingratitude is man. Which winter from its top did trim! By such a lecture somewhat foil'd, Why could not man have pruned and spared, other back a step recoil'd, The And with itself for ages shared ? And finally replied, Much scorning thus to be convinced, Thy reasons are abusive, The man resolved his cause to gain. wholly inconclusive. And Quoth he, My goodness is evinced I might the case decide By hearing this, 'tis very plain ; Because to me such right belongs ; Then flung the serpent bag and all, But let 's refer the case of wrongs. With fatal force, against a wall.

The snake agreed ; they to a cow referr'd it, So ever is it with the great, Who, being called, came graciously and heard it. With whom the whim doth always run Then, summing up, What need, said she, That Heaven all creatures doth create In such a case, to call on me \ For their behoof, beneath the sun

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Count they four feet, or two, or none. What hope, with famine thus infested ? If one should dare the fact dispute, Necessity whom history mentions He 's straight set down a stupid brute. A famous mother of inventions, Now, grant it so,—such lords among, The following stratagem suggested : What should be done, or said, or sung ? He found upon the water's brink At distance speak, or hold your tongue. A crab, to which said he, My friend, weighty errand let A me send ; Go quicker than a wink Down to the fishes sink, HI.—THE TORTOISE AND THE TWO DUCKS. And tell them they are doom'd to die : For, ere eight days have hasten'd by, A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, Its lord will fish this water dry. Tired of her hole, the world would see. The crab, as fast as she could scrabble, Prone are all such, self-banished, to roam- Went down, and told the scaly rabble. Prone are all cripples to abhor their home. What bustling, gathering, agitation ! Two ducks, to whom the gossip told Straight up they send a deputation The secret of her purpose bold, To wait upon the ancient bird. Profess'd to have the means whereby Sir Cormorant, whence hast thou They could her wishes gratify. heard This dreadful news ? And what Our boundless road, said they, behold ! Assurance of it hast thou got ? It is the open air ; How such a danger can we shun ? And through it we will bear Pray tell us, what is to be done ? You safe o'er land and ocean. Why, change your dwelling-place, said he, Republics, kingdoms, you will view, What, change our dwelling ! How can we ^ And famous cities, old and new ; 0, by your leave, I'll take that care, And get of customs, laws, a notion, And, one by one, in safety bear Of various wisdom various pieces, You all to my retreat As did, indeed, the sage Ulysses. The path 's unknown The eager tortoise waited* not To any feet, To question what Ulysses got, Except my own. But closed the bargain on the spot. A pool, scoop 'd out by Nature's hands, A nice machine the birds devise Amidst the desert rocks and sands, To bear their pilgrim through the skies. Where human traitors never come, Athwart her mouth a stick they throw : Shall save your people from their doom. Now bite it hard, and don't let go, The fish republic swallow'd all, They say, and seize each duck an end, And, coming at the fellow's call, And, swiftly flying, upward tend. Were singly borne away to stock It made the people gape and stare A pond beneath a lonely rock Beyond the expressive power of words, ; And there good prophet cormorant, To see a tortoise cut the air, Proprietor and bailiff sole, Exactly poised between two birds. From narrow water, clear and shoal, A miracle, they cried, is seen ! With ease supplied his daily want, There goes the flying tortoise queen ! And taught them, at their own expense, The queen ! ('twas thus the tortoise spoke ;) That heads well stored with common sense I'm truly that, without a joke. Give no devourers confidence. Much better had she held her tongue ; Still did the change not hurt their case, For, opening that whereby she clung, Since, had they staid, the human race, Before the gazing crowd she fell, Successful by pernicious art, And dash'd to bits her brittle shell. Would have consumed as large a part. Imprudence, vanity, and babble, What matters who your flesh devours,

And idle curiosity, Of human or of bestial powers % An ever-undivided rabble, In this respect, or wild or tame,

Have all the same paternity. All stomachs seem to me the same : The odds is small, in point of sorrow, Of death to-day, or death to-morrow. IV.—THE FISHES AND THE CORMORANT.

No pond nor pool within his haunt But paid a certain cormorant V.—THE BURIER AND HIS COMRADE. Its contribution from its fishes, And stock'd his kitchen with good dishes. A close-fist had his money hoarded Yet, old when age the bird had chill'd, Beyond the room his till afforded. His kitchen was less amply fill'd. His avarice aye growing ranker, All cormorants, however grey, (Whereby his mind of course grew blanker,) Must die, or for themselves purvey. He was perplex' d to choose a banker ; But ours had now become so blind, For banker he must have, he thought, His finny prey he could not find ; Or all his heap would come to nought. And, having neither hook nor net, I fear, said he, if kept at home, His appetite was poorly met. And other robbers should not come,

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It might be equal cause of grief And there 's not a squire That I had proved myself the thief. But blows up the fire The thief ! Is to enjoy one's pelf hostile By proclamation ; To rob or steal it from one's self? Nor a human brat My friend, could but my pity reach you, Dares cry, but that This lesson I would gladly teach you, Its mother mocks my nation. That wealth is weal no longer than

Diffuse and part with it you can : And all for what ? Without that power, it is a woe. For a sheep with the rot, Would you for age keep back its flow? Or scabby, mangy ass, buried 'neath its joyless ? Age snow Or some snarling cur, With pains of getting, of care got With less meat than fur, Consumes the value, every jot, On which I've broken fast Of gold that one can never spare. To take the load of such a care, Well, henceforth I'll strive Assistants were not very rare. That nothing alive The earth was that which pleased him best. Shall die to quench my thirst Dismissing thought of all the rest, No lambkin shall fall, He with his friend, his trustiest, Nor puppy, at all, A sort of shovel-secretary, To glut my maw accurst. Went forth his hoard to bury. With grass I'll appease, Safe done, a few days afterward, Or browse on the trees, The man must look beneath the sward Or die of famine first. When, what a mystery ! behold The mine exhausted of its gold What of carcass warm ? Suspecting, with the best of cause, Is it worth the storm His friend was privy to his loss, Of universal hate ? He bade him, in a cautious mood, As he spoke these words, To come as soon as well he could, The lords of the herds, For still some other coins he had, All seated at their bait, Which to the rest he wish'd to add. He saw ; and observed Expecting thus to get the whole, The meat which was served The friend put back the sum he stole, Was nought but roasted lamb ! Then came with all despatch. O ! ! said the beast, The other proved an overmatch : Repent of my feast Resolved at length to save by spending, All butcher I His practice thus most wisely mending, as am On these vermin mean, The total treasure home he carried Whose guardians e'en No longer hoarded it or buried. Eat at a rate quadruple ! Chapfallen was the thief, when gone Themselves and their dogs, He saw his prospects and his pawn. As greedy as hogs,

And I, a wolf, to scruple ! From this it may be stated, That knaves with ease are cheated. Look out for your wool I'll not be a fool, The very pet I'll eat The lamb the best-looking, VI.—THE WOLF AND THE SHEPHERDS. Without any cooking, I'll strangle from the teat A wolf, replete And swallow the dam, With humanity sweet, As well as the lamb, (A trait not much suspected,) And stop her foolish bleat. On his cruel deeds, Old Hornie, too,—rot him, The fruit of his needs, The sire that begot him Profoundly thus reflected. Shall be among my meat

I'm hated, said he Well-reasoning beast As joint enemy, Were we sent to feast

By hunters, dogs, and clowns. On creatures wild and tame ? They swear I shall die, And shall we reduce And their hue and cry The beasts to the use

The very thunder drowns. Of vegetable game ?

My brethren have fled, Shall animals not With price on the head, Have flesh-hook or pot, England's From merry land. As in the age of gold ? King Edgar came out, And we claim the right, And put them to rout, In the pride of our might,

With many a deadly band. Themselves to have and hold \

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shepherds, that keep At first, she was greatly afflicted therefor, Your folds full of sheep, But when she had noticed these madcaps at war The wolf was only wrong With each other, and dealing far bloodier blows, Because, so to speak, Consoling her own individual woes, too weak Entail'd their, customs, said she, is the shame His jaws were by ; To break your palings strong. 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. VII.—THE SPIDER AND THE SWALLOW. Were the choice to be mine, I would finish my life In society freer from riot and strife. Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, But the lord of this soil has a different plan By odd obstetrics freed from pain, His tunnel our race to captivity brings, Bore Pallas, erst nay mortal foe, He throws us with cocks, after clipping our wings. Pray listen to my tale of woe. 'Tis little we have to complain of but man. This Progne takes my lawful prey. As through the ah' she cuts her way, And skims the waves in seeming play, My flies she catches from my door, IX.—THE DOG WHOSE EARS WERE CROPPED. Yes, mine—I emphasize the word, What have I done, I'd like to know, And, but for this accursed bird, To make my master maim me so I My net would hold an ample store : A pretty figure I shall cut For I have woven it of stuff other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut. To hold the strongest strong enough. From Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho ! 'Twas thus, in terms of insolence, Would any beast have served you so I Complain'd the fretful spider, once Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young ; Of palace-tapestry a weaver, The man, pity never stung, But then a spinster and deceiver, whom Went on to prune him of his ears. That hoped within her toils to bring Though Growler whined about his losses, Of insects all that ply the wing. He found, before the lapse of years, The sister swift of Philomel, Himself a gainer by the process Intent on business, prosper'd well ; For, being by his nature prone In spite of the complaining pest, To fight his brethren for a bone, The insects carried to her nest He'd oft come back from sad reverse Nest pitiless to suffering flies With those appendages the worse. Mouths gaping aye, to gormandise, All snarling dogs have ragged ears. Of young ones clamouring, And stammering, The less of hold for teeth of foe, With unintelligible cries. The better will the battle go. The spider, with but head and feet, When, in a certain place, one fears And powerless to compete The chance of being hurt or beat, With wings so fleet, fortifies it from defeat. Soon saw herself a prey. He Besides the shortness of his ears, The swallow, passing swiftly by, See Growler arm'd against his likes Bore web and all away, With gorget full of ugly spikes. The spinster dangling in the sky ! A wolf would find it quite a puzzle Two tables hath our Maker set To get a hold about his muzzle. F.or 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 X.—THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING. The rest must quell with leavings at the second. Two demons at their pleasure share our being from her homestead fleeing The cause of Reason ; No heart but on their altars kindleth flames. VIII.—THE PARTRIDGE AND THE COCKS. If you demand their purposes and names, The one is Love, the other is Ambition. With a set of uncivil and turbulent cocks, Of far the greater share this' takes possession, That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks, For even into love it enters, story centres A partridge was placed to be rear'd. Which I might prove ; but now my Her sex, by politeness revered,. Upon a shepherd clothed with lofty powers Made her hope, from a gentry devoted to love, The tale belongs to older times than ours.

For the courtesy due to the tenderest dove ; Nay, protection chivalric from knights of the yard. A king observed a flock, wide spread That gentry, however, with little regard Upon the plains, most admirably fed, For the honours and knighthood wherewith they O'erpaying largely, as return 'd the years, were deck'd, Their shepherd's care, by harvests for his shears. And for the strange lady as little respect, Such pleasure in this man the monarch took, Her ladyship often most horribly peck'd. Thou meritest, said he, to wield a crook

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O'er higher flock than this ; and my esteem 'er men now makes thee judge supreme. XL—THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO Behold our shepherd, scales in hand, PLAYED THE FLUTE. Although a hermit and a wolf or two, Thyrsis—who for his Annette dear Besides his flock and dogs, were all he knew ! Well stock'd with sense, all else upon demand Made music with his flute and voice, Would come of course, and did, we understand. Which might have roused the dead to hear, His neighbour hermit came to him to say, And in their silent graves rejoice Sang once the livelong day, Am I awake ? Is this no dream, I pray ? In the flowery month of May, You favourite ! you great ! beware of kings Their favours are but slippery things, Up and down a meadow brook, While Annette fish'd with line and hook. Dear-bought ; to mount the heights to which they call But ne'er a fish would bite Is but to court a more illustrious fall. ; So the shepherdess's bait You little know to what this lure beguiles My friend, I say, Beware. The other smiles. Drew not a fish to its fate, The hermit adds, See how From morning dawn till night. The shepherd, who, by his charming songs, The court has marr'd your wisdom even now ! That purblind traveller I seem to see, Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs, Who, having lost his whip, by strange mistake, And done with them as he pleased to, Thought that he could serve the fish so. Took for a better one a snake ; But, while he thank'd his stars, brimful of glee, citizens, he sang, of this water, Leave your Naiad in her grot profound Outcried a passenger, God shield your breast ! ; see the blue sky's lovely Why, man, for life, throw down that treacherous pest, Come and daughter, Who a thousand times more will charm you That snake ! — It is my whip.—A snake, I say j Fear not that her prison will harm you, What selfish end could prompt my warning, pray ? Though there you should chance to get bound. Think you to keep your prize 1 —And wherefore not ? 'Tis only to us men she is cruel My whip was worn ; I've found another new : You she will treat kindly This counsel grave from envy springs in you.— ; The stubborn wight would not believe a jot, A snug little pond she'll find ye, Till warm and lithe the serpent grew, Clearer than a crystal jewel, Where you may all live and do well And, striking with his venom, slew ; The man almost upon the spot. Or, if by chance some few And as to you, I dare predict Should find their fate bait, That something worse will soon afflict. Conceal'd in the The happier still are you Indeed 1 What worse than death, prophetic hermit 1 ; envied is the death that's Perhaps the compound heartache I may term it. For met And never was there truer prophecy. At the hands of sweet Annette. eloquence effecting Full many a courtier pest, by many a lie, This not Contrived, and many a cruel slander, The object of his wishes, To make the king suspect the judge awry Since it failed in collecting In both ability and candour. The deaf and dumb fishes, Cabals were raised, and dark conspiracies, His sweet preaching wasted, Of men that felt aggrieved by his decrees. His honey 'd talk untasted, With wealth of ours he hath a palace built, A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing With a fell scoop at the scaly fry, Said they. The king, astonish 'd. at his guilt, now, flouncing, His ill got riches ask'd to see. He caught them ; and madly He found but mediocrity, At the feet of his Annette they lie ! Bespeaking strictest honesty. So much for his magnificence. ye shepherds, whose sheep men are, Anon, his plunder was a hoard immense To trust in reason never dare. Of precious stones that fill'd an iron box, The arts of eloquence sublime not within calling All fast secured by half a score of locks. Are your ; Himself the coffer oped, and sad surprise Your fish were caught, from oldest time, Befell those manufacturers of lies. By dint of nets and hauling. 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. X1L—THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND O treasure sweet, said he, that never drew HIS SON.

The viper brood of envy's lies on you ! I take you back, and leave this palace splendid, Two parrots lived, a sire and son, As some roused sleeper doth a dream that's ended. On roastings from a royal fire. Forgive me, sire, this exclamation. Two demigods, a son and sire, In mounting up, my fall I had foreseen, These parrots pension'd for their fun.

Yet loved the height too well; for who hath been, Time tied the knot of love sincere :

Of mortal race, devoid of all ambition \ 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,

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Which did the bird no little honour, since The boy, by king begotten, was a prince. XIII.—THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR. By nature fond of birds, the prince, too, petted The lioness had lost her young A sparrow, which delightfully coquetted. ; A hunter stole it from the vale These rivals, both of unripe feather, ; The forests and the mountains rung One day were frolicking together : As oft befalls such little folks, Responsive to her hideous wail. A quarrel follow'd from their jokes. Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, The sparrow, quite uncircumspect, Could still the loud lament that rose From that grim forest queen. Was by the parrot sadly peck'd ; With drooping wing and bloody head, No animal, as you might think, His master pick'd him up for dead, With such a noise could sleep a wink. bear And, being quite too wroth to bear it, A presumed to intervene. In heat of passion kill'd his parrot. One word, sweet friend, quoth she, When this sad piece of news he heard, And that is all, from me. Distracted was the parent bird. The young that through your teeth have pass'd, In file unbroken by a fast, His piercing cries bespoke his pain ; But cries and tears were all in vain. Had they nor dam nor sire ? They had them both. Then I desire, The talking bird had left the shore* ; In short, he, talking now no more, Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, Caused such a rage to seize his sire, While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, That, lighting on the prince in ire, To know why you yourself cannot be quiet ? I quiet ! I ! He put out both his eyes, — —a wretch bereaved ! only son ! And fled for safety as was wise. My —such anguish be relieved ! The bird a pine for refuge chose, No, never ! All for me below

Is but a life of tears and woe ! And to its lofty summit rose ; say, ? There, in the bosom of the skies, But why doom yourself to sorrow so Enjoy'd his vengeance sweet, Alas ! 'tis Destiny that is my foe. And scorn'd the wrath beneath his feet- Such language, since mortal fall, Out ran the king, and cried, in soothing tone, the Has fallen from the lips of all. Return, dear friend ; what serves it to bemoan ? Ye human wretches, give your heed Hate, vengeance, mourning, let us both omit. ; For your complaints there's little need. For me, it is no more than fit Let thinks his To own, though with an aching heart, him who own the hardest case, Some widow'd, childless Hecuba behold, The wrong is wholly on our part. Herself to toil and shame of slavery Th' aggressor truly was my son sold, And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace. 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. XIV.—THE TWO ADVENTURERS AND THE TALISMAN.

Let both, then, cease to mourn ; No flowery path to glory leads. And you, back to your cage return. This truth no better voucher needs Sire king, replied the bird, Than Hercules, of mighty deeds. Think you that, after such a deed, Few demigods, the tomes of fable I ought to trust your word ? Reveal to us as being able You speak of Fate ; by such a heathen creed Such weight of task-work to endure Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed % In history, I find still fewer. But whether Fate or Providence divine One such, however, here behold— Gives law to things below, A knight by talisman made bold, 'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine, Within the regions of romance, Or where wild forests grow, To seek adventures with the lance. My days I finish, safely, far There rode a comrade at his side, From that which ought your love to mar, And as they rode they both espied And turn it all to hate. This writing on a post : — Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel, " Wouldst see, sir valiant knight, And ever hath been part and parcel A thing whereof the sight Of this your godlike state. No errant yet can boast ? You would forget the cause of grief Thou hast this torrent but to ford, Suppose I grant you my belief, And, lifting up alone 'Tis better still to make it true, The elephant of stone By keeping out of sight of you. Upon its margin shored, Sire king, my friend, no longer wait Upbear it to the mountain's brow, For friendship to be heal'd ; Round which, aloft before thee now, But absence is the cure of hate, The misty chaplets wreathe As 'tis from love the shield. Not stopping once to breathe." * " Stygia natabat jam frigida cymba." Virg. One knight, whose nostrils bled, Betokening courage fled,

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Cried out, What if that current's sweep From off the self-same spirit-stuff

Not only rapid be, but deep ! Not from the immaterial, And grant it cross'd,—pray, why encumber But what we call ethereal, One's arms with that unwieldy lumber, Refined from matter rough. An elephant of stone? An illustration please to hear. Perhaps the artist may have done Just on the still frontier His work in such a way, that one Of either day or night,

it- its Might lug twice length ; Or when the lord of light But then to reach yon mountain top, Reclines his radiant head And that without a breathing stop, Upon his watery bed, Were surely past a moi'tal's strength— Or when he dons the gear, Unless, indeed, it be no bigger To drive a new career, Than some wee, pigmy, dwarfish figure, While yet with doubtful sway Which one would head a cane withal ; The hour is ruled 'twixt night and dav,__ if to this fall, border forest-tree I And the case should Some climb ; The adventurer's honour would be small And, acting Jove, from height sublime This posting seems to me a trap, My fatal bolt at will directing, riddle for kill rabbit Or some greenish chap ; I some unsuspecting. I therefore leave the whole to you. The rest that frolick'd on the heath, The doubtful reasoner onward hies. Or browsed the thyme with dainty teoth, With heart resolved, in spite of eyes, With open eye and watchful ear, The other boldly dashes Behold, all scampering from through ; beneath, Nor depth of flood nor force Instinct with mortal fear. Can stop his onward course. All, frighten'd simply by the sound, finds their city He the elephant of stone ; Hie to underground. lifts it all is He alone ; But soon the danger forgot,

Without a breathing stop, And just as soon the fear lives not : He bears it to the top The rabbits, gayer than before,

Of that steep mount, and seeth there I see beneath my hand once more ! A high-wall' d city, great and fair. Out-cried the elephant—and hush'd Are not mankind well pictured here ? But forth in arms the people rush'd. By storms asunder driven, A knight less bold had surely fled ; They scarcely reach their haven, But he, so far from turning back, And cast their anchor, ere His course right onward sped, They tempt the same dread shocks Resolved himself to make attack, Of tempests, waves, and rocks. And die but with the bravest dead. True rabbits, back they frisk Amazed was he to hear that band To meet the self-same risk ! Proclaim him monarch of their land, And welcome him, in place of one I add another common case. Whose death had left a vacant throne ! When dogs pass through a place In sooth, he lent a gracious ear, Beyond their customary bounds, Meanwhile expressing modest fear, And meet with others, curs or hounds, Lest such a load of royal care Imagine what a holiday ! Should be too great for him to bear. The native dogs, whose interests centre And so, exactly, Sixtus said, In one great organ, term'd the venter, When first the pope's tiara press'd his head ; The strangers rush at, bite, and bay (Though, is it such a grievous thing ; With cynic pertness tease and worry, To be a pope, or be a king ?) And chase them off their territory. But days were few before they read it So, too, do men. Wealth, grandeur, glory, That with but little truth he said it. To men of office or profession, Blind Fortune follows daring blind. Of every sort, in every nation, Oft executes the wisest man, As tempting are, and sweet, Ere yet the wisdom of his mind As is to dogs the refuse meat. Is task'd his means or end to scan. 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,

XV.—THE RABBITS. As samples of the sin ;

AN ADDRESS 'l^TTHE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD. For woe to belle or writer new ! The fewer eaters round the cake, While watching man in all his phases, The fewer players for the stake, And seeing that, in many cases, The surer each one's self to take.

He acts just like the brute creation, A hundred facts my truth might test J I've thought the lord of all these races But shortest works are always best. Of no less failings show'd the traces In this I but pursue the chart of the Than do his lieges in relation ; Laid down by masters art And that, in making it, Dame Nature And, on the best of themes, I hold, Hath put a spice in every creature The truth should never all be told.

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Hence, here my sermon ought to close, The month has thirty days ; till they are spent,

O thou, to whom my fable owes Are we upon your faith to keep full Lent ? Whate'er it of solid worth,— is has The hope you give truly good ;

Who, great by modesty as well as birth, But, ere it comes, we starve for food ! Hast ever counted praise a pain, Pray tell me, if you can divine, leave I could so ill obtain what, Whose On to-morrow, we shall dine ; That here your name, receiving homage, Or tell me, rather, whence we may Should save from every sort of damage Obtain a supper for to-day. My slender works—which name, well known This point, if truth should, be confess' d, To nations, and to ancient Time, Is first, and vital to the rest. All France delights to own, Your science short in this respect, Herself more rich in names sublime My hands shall cover the defect.

Than any other earthly clime ; This said, the nearest woods he sought, Permit me here the world to teach And thence for market fagots brought, That you have given my simple rhyme Whose price that day, and eke the next, The text from which it dares to preach. 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, XVI.—THE MERCHANT, THE NOBLE, THE There needs but little skill SHEPHERD, AND THE KING'S SON. to get a living. Thanks to the gifts of Nature's giving, Four voyagers to parts unknown, Our hands are much the readiest resource. On shore, not far from naked, thrown By furious waves,—a merchant now undone, A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son, Bi'ought to the lot of Belisarius*, Their wants supplied on alms precarious. BOOK XI. To tell what fates, and winds, and weather, Had brought these mortals all together, L—THE LION. Though from far distant points abscinded, Would make my tale long-winded. Some time ago, a sultan Leopard, Suffice to say, that, by a fountain met By means of many a rich escheat, In council grave, these outcasts held debate. Had many an ox in meadow, sweet, The prince enlarged, in an oration set, And many a stag in forest, fleet, Upon the miseries that befall the great. And (what a savage sort of shepherd !) plains, The shepherd deem'd it best to cast Full many a sheep upon the Off thought of all misfortune past, That lay within his wide domains. And each to do the best he could, Not far away, one morn, In efforts for the common weal. There was a lion born. Did ever a repining mood, Exchanged high compliments of state, He added, a misfortune heall As is the custom with the great, Toil, friends, will take us back to Rome, The sultan call'd his vizier Fox, Or make us here as good a home. Who had a deeper knowledge-box, And said to him, This lion's whelp you dread A shepherd so to speak ! a shepherd ? What As though crown'd heads were not, What can he do, his father being dead ? pity rather let him share, By Heaven's appointment fit, Our The sole receptacles of wit An orphan so beset with care. As though a shepherd could be deeper, The luckiest lion ever known, In thought or knowledge, than his sheep are If, letting conquest quite alone, The three, howe'er, at once approved his plan, He should have power to keep his own. Wreck'd as they were on shores American. Sir Renard said, his I'll teach arithmetic, the merchant said, And shook head, Its rules, of course, well seated in his head, Such orphans, please your majesty, pity of For monthly pay. The prince replied, And I Will get no out me. Will teach political economy. We ought to keep within his favour, all might endeavour And I, the noble said, in heraldry Or else with our Well versed, will open for that branch a school To thrust him out of life and throne, yet his claws and teeth are grown. As if, beyond a thousand leagues of sea, Ere That senseless jargon could befool There's not a moment to be lost. My friends, you talk like men, His horoscope I've cast The shepherd cried, but then He'll never quarrel to bis cost But then his friendship fast * Belisarius was a great general, who, having com- Will be to friends of greater worth manded the armies of the emperor, and lost the favour of Than any lion's e'er on earth. his master, fell to such a point of destitution that he asked Try then, my liege, to make it ours, alms upon the highways.—Note of La Fontaine. else to check his rising powers. The touching story of the fall of Belisarius, of which Or painters and poets have made so much, is entirely false, as The warning fell in vain. may he seen by consulting Gibbon's " Decline and Fall of The sultan slept ; and beasts and men the Roman Empire," chap, xliii. Translator. Did so, throughout his whole domain,

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Till lion's whelp became a lion. Nor did the boy too little yearn Then came at once the tocsin cry on, His lesson infinite to learn. Alarm and fluttering consternation. Said fiery Mars, I take the part The vizier call'd to consultation, To make him master of the art A sigh escaped him as he said, Whereby so many heroes high Why all this mad excitement now, Have won the honours of the sky. When hope is fled, no matter how % To teach him music be my care, A thousand men were useless aid, Apollo said, the wise and fair The more, the worse,— since all their power And mine, that mighty god replied, Would be our mutton to devour. In the Nemsean lion's hide,

Appease this lion ; sole he doth exceed To teach him to subdue The helpers all that on us feed. The vices, an envenom 'd crew, And three hath he, that cost him nought.— Like Hydras springing ever new. His courage, strength, and watchful thought. The foe of weakening luxury, Quick send a wether for his use The boy divine will learn from me If not contented, send him more; Those rugged paths, so little trod, Yes, add an ox, and see you choose That lead to glory man and god. The best our pastures ever bore. Said Cupid, when it came his turn, Thus save the rest. —But such advice All things from me the boy may learn. The sultan spurn'd, as cowardice. Well spoke the god of love. And his, and many states beside, What feat of Mars, or Hercules, Did ills, in consequence, betide. Or bright Apollo, lies above However fought this world allied, Wit, wing'd a' ? The beast maintain'd his power and pride. by desire to please If you must let the lion grow, Don't let him live to be your foe.

III.—THE FARMER, THE DOG, AND THE FOX

II.—THE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON

OF JUPITER. The wolf and fox are neighbours strange : FOR MONSEIGNEUR THE DUKE DU MAINE. I would not build within their range. The fox once eyed with strict regard

To Jupiter was born a son, From day to day, a poultry-yard ; Who, conscious of his origin, But though a most accomplished cheat, A godlike spirit had within. He could not get a fowl to eat.

To love, such age is little prone ; Between the risk and appetite, Yet this celestial boy His rogueship's trouble was not slight.

Made love his chief employ, Alas ! quoth he, this stupid rabble their And was beloved wherever known. But mock me with constant gabble ; In him both love and reason I go and come, and rack my brains, Sprang up before their season. And get my labour for my pains. With charming smiles and manners winning, Your rustic owner, safe at home,

Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning, Takes all the profits as they come : As an Olympian became He sells his capons and his chicks, Whatever lights the tender flame, Or keeps them hanging on his hook, A heart to take and render bliss, All dress'd and ready for his cook Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his. But I, adept in art and tricks, Jove's son, he should of course inherit Should I but catch the toughest crower, A higher and a nobler spirit Should be brimful of joy, and more. Than sons of other deities. Jove supreme, why was I made

It seem'd as if by Memory's aid A master of the fox's trade ? As if a previous life had made By all the higher powers and lower,

Experiment and hid it I swear to rob this chicken-grower ! He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade, Revolving such revenge within, So perfectly he did it. When night had still'd the various din, Still Jupiter would educate And poppies seem'd to bear full sway In manner fitting to his state. O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay The gods, obedient to his call, Alike secure in slumber deep,

Assemble in their council-hall ; And cocks and hens were fast asleep,

When thus the sire : Companionless and sole, Upon the populous roost he stole. Thus far the boundless universe I roll By negligence, —a common sin, But numerous other offices there are, The farmer left unclosed the hole, Of which I give to younger gods the care. And, stooping down, the fox went in. I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child, The blood of every fowl was spill'd, altars fill'd. Whose countless are already piled ; The citadel with murder To merit such regard from all below, The dawn disclosed sad sights, I ween, All things the young immortal ought to know When heaps on slaughter'd heaps were seen, No sooner had the Thunderer ended, All weltering in their mingled gore. godlike stricken, of Than each his plan commended ; With horror as yore,

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The sun well nigh shrunk back again, This vizier sometimes gladly sought To hide beneath the liquid main. The solitude that favours thought Such sight once saw the Trojan plain, Whereas, the hermit, in his cot, When on the fierce Atrides' head Had longings for a vizier's lot. Apollo's awful anger fell, To this intex'pretation dared I add, solitude I inspire. And strew'd the crimson field with dead : The love of would Of Greeks, scarce one was left to tell It satisfies the heart's desire The carnage of that night so dread. With unencumber'd gifts and glad Such slaughter, too, around his tent, Heaven-planted joys, of stingless sweet, The furious Ajax made, one night, Aye springing up beneath our feet. Of sheep and goats, in easy fight Solitude, whose secret charms I know In anger blindly confident Retreats that I have loved—when shall I go That by his well-directed blows To taste, far from a world of din and noise, Ulysses fell, or some of those Your shades so fresh, where silence has a voice % By whose iniquity and lies When shall their soothing gloom my refuge be ? That wily rival took the prize. When shall the sacred Nine, from courts afar, The fox, thus having Ajax play'd, And cities with all solitude at war, Bore off the nicest of the brood, Engross entire, and teach their votary As many pullets as he could, The stealthy movements of the spaugled nights, And left the rest, all prostrate laid. The names and virtues of those errant lights The owner found his sole resource Which rule o'er human character and fate ? His servants and his dog to curse. Or, if not born to purposes so great, The streams, at least, shall win heartfelt You useless puppy, better drovvn'd ! my thanks, in their Why did you not your 'larum sound ? While, my verse, I paint flowery banks. Why did you not the evil shun, Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread, Quoth Towser, as you might have done ? Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed, If you, whose interest was more. Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head. Could sleep and leave au open door, But will my sleep be less a treasure \ Think you that I, a dog at best, Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure \ it, gentle Would watch, and lose my precious rest \ 1 vow sweet and as the dew, Within those deserts sacrifices This pithy speech had been, in truth, new ; And when the time shall come to yield my breath, Good logic in a master's mouth ; But, coming from a menial's lip, Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death. It even lack'd the lawyership To save poor Towser from the whip. V.—THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE O thou who head'st a family, TWO ASSES. (An honour never grudged by me,) Thou art a patriarch unwise, The lion, for his kingdom's sake, In morals would some lessons take, To sleep, and trust another's eyes. Thyself shouldst go to bed the last, And therefore call'd, one summer's day, The monkey, master of the arts, Thy doors all seen to, shut and fast. animal of brilliant parts, I charge you never let a fox see An To hear what he could say. Your special business done by proxy. 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, IV.—THE MOGUL'S DREAM. Distinctly and quite high above A certain feeling call'd self-love, The parent of all vices, Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, In creatures of all sizes. A vizier in Elysian bliss ; will this feeling from one's breast away, No higher joy could be or seem, To Is not the easy labour of a day Or purer, than was ever his. ; 'Tis to moderate its tyrant sway. Elsewhere was dream 'd of by the same much A wretched hermit wrapp'd in flame, By that your majesty august Will execute your royal trust Whose lot e'en touch'd, so pain'd was he, folly free and aught unjust. The partners of his misery. From Give me, replied the king, Was Minos mock'd 1 or had these ghosts, Example of each thing. By some mistake, exchanged their posts ? Each species, said the sage, Surprise at this the vision broke ; The dreamer suddenly awoke. And I begin with ours, Exalts its own peculiar powers Some mystery suspecting in it, Above sound reason's gauge. He got a wise one to explain it. Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes Replied the sage interpreter, As fools and blockheads it describes, Let not the thing a marvel seem : With other compliments as cheap. There is a meaning in your dream : ^ But, on the other hand, the same If I have aught of knowledge, sir, Self-love inspires a beast to heap It covers counsel from the gods. The highest pyramid of fame While tenanting these clay abodes,

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For every one that bears his name ; YL—THE WOLF AND THE FOX. Because he justly deems such praise easiest way himself to raise. The Why iEsop gave the palm of cunning, conclusion in the case, 'Tis my O'er flying animals and running, That many a talent here below To Renard Fox, I cannot tell, Is but cabal, or sheer grimace, Though I have search'd the subject well. The art of seeming things to know Hath not Sir Wolf an equal skill An art in which perfection lies In tricks and artifices shown, More with the ignorant than wise. When he would do some life an ill,

Or from his foes defend his own ? Two asses tracking, t'other day, I think he hath ; and, void of disrespect, Of which each in his turn I might, perhaps, my master contradict Did incense to the other burn, Yet here 's a case, in which the burrow-lodger Quite in the usual way, Was palpably, I own, the brightest dodger. I heard one to his comrade say, One night he spied within a well, My lord, do you not find Wherein the fullest moonlight fell, The prince of knaves and fools What seem'd to him an ample cheese. be this man, who boasts of mind To Two balanced buckets took their turns Instructed in his schools ! When drawers thence would fill their urns. With wit unseemly and profane, Our fox went down in one of these, mocks our venerable race He By hunger greatly press'd to sup, each of his who lacketh brain On And drew the other empty up. our ancient surname, ass ! Bestows Convinced at once of his mistake, ahusive tongue portraying, And, with And anxious for his safety's sake, laugh ! Describes our and talk as braving He saw his death was near and sure, These bipeds of their folly tell us, Unless some other wretch in need While thus pretending to excel us. The same moon's image should allure No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend, To take a bucket and succeed And let their orators attend. To his predicament, indeed. The braying is their own, but let them be : Two days pass'd by, and none approaclvd the well We understand each other, and agree, Unhalting Time, as is his wont, And that's enough. As for your song, Was scooping from the" moon's full front, Such wonders to its notes belong, And as he scoop'd Sir Renard's courage fell. The nightingale is put to shame, His crony wolf, of clamorous maw And Lambert loses half his fame. ; Poor fox at last above him saw, My lord, the other ass replied, And cried, My comrade,* look you here ! Such talents in yourself reside, See what abundance of good cheer ! Of asses all, the joy and pride. A cheese of most delicious zest ! These donkeys, not quite satisfied Which Faunus must himself have press'd, With scratching thus each other's hide, Of milk by heifer Io given. needs the cities visit, Must If Jupiter were sick in heaven, Their fortunes there to raise, The taste would bring his appetite. By sounding forth the praise, I've taken, as you see, a bite ; Each, of the other's skill exquisite. But still for both there is a plenty. Full many, in this age of ours, Pray take the bucket that I've sent ye only ; Not among asses, Come down, and get your share. But in the higher classes, Although, to make the story fair, Heaven hath clothed with higher Whom powers, The fox had used his utmost care, Dared they but do it, would exalt The wolf (a fool to give him credit) simple innocence from fault, A Went down because his stomach bid it Or virtue common and domestic, And by his weight pull'd up To excellence majestic. Sir Renard to tiie top. I've said too much, perhaps ; but I suppose Your majesty the secret won't disclose, We need not mock this simpleton, Since 'twas your majesty's request that I For we ourselves such deeds have done. This matter should exemplify. Our faith is prone to lend its ear How love of self gives food to ridicule, To aught which we desire or fear. I've shown. To prove the balance of my rule, That justice is a sufferer thereby, A longer time will take.— VH—THE PEASANT OF THE DANUBE.

'Twas thus the monkey spake. To judge no man by outside view, But my informant does not state, Is good advice, though not quite new. That e'er the sage did demonstrate Some time ago, a mouse's fright The other point, more delicate. Upon this moral shed some light. Perhaps he thought none but a fool I have for proof at present, A lion would too strictly school. With iEsop and good Socrates, Of Danube's banks a certain peasant, Whose portrait drawn to life one sees, By Marc Aurelius, if you please.

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The first are well known, far and near : We wish them short career in time : I briefly sketch the other here. Your praetors force us to the crime. The crop upon his fertile chin Are they our teachers % Call them home, anything but soft or thin Was ; They teach but luxury and vice, Indeed, his person, clothed in hair, Lest Germans should their likes become, Might personate an unlick'd bear. In fell remorseless avarice. Beneath his matted brow there lay Have we a remedy at Rome % that An eye squinted every way I'll tell you here how matters go. A crooked nose and monstrous lips he bore, Hath one no present to bestow, And goat-skin round his trunk he wore, No purple for a judge or so, With bulrush belt. And such a man as this is The laws for him are deaf and dumb Was delegate from towns the Danube kisses, Their minister has aye in store When not a nook on earth there linger d A thousand hindrances or more. By Roman avarice not finger'd. I'm sensible that truths like these Before the senate thus he spoke : Are not the things to please. Romans and senators who hear I've done. Let death avenge you here first I, of all, the gods invoke, Of my complaint, a little too sincere. The powers whom mortals justly fear, That from my tongue there may not fall He said no more ; but all admired word which I need recall. A may The thought with which his speech was fired Without their aid there enters nought The eloquence and heart of oak hearts of just : To human good or With which the prostrate savage spoke. Whoever leaves the same unsought, Indeed, so much were all delighted, Is prone to violate his trust ; As due revenge, the man was knighted. The prey of avarice, Roman The praetors were at once displaced, Ourselves are witnesses of this. And better men the office graced. Rome, by our crimes, our scourge has grown, The senate, also, by decree, than More by valour of our own. Besought a copy of the speech, Romans, beware lest Heaven, day, some Which might to future speakers be Exact for all our groans the pay, A model for the use of each. And, arming us, just reverse, by Not long, howe'er, had Rome the sense do its vengeance, To stern, but meet, To entertain such eloquence. 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 ? VIH.-THE OLD MAN AND THE THREE YOUNG What right gives you the universe ? ONES. Why come and mar our quiet life ? We till'd our acres free from strife A man was planting at fourscore. In arts our hands were skill'd to toil, Three striplings, who their satchels wore,

As well as o'er the generous soil. In building, cried, the sense were more ;

What have you taught the Germans brave ? But then to plant young trees at that age ! Apt scholars, had but they The man is surely in his dotage. Your appetite for sway, Pray, in the name of common sense, They might, instead of you, enslave, What fruit can he expect to gather Without your inhumanity. Of all this labour and expense? That which your praetors perpetrate Why, he must live like Lamech's father On us, as subjects of your state, What use for thee, grey-headed man, My powers would fail me to relate. To load the remnant of thy span Profaned their altars and their rites, With care for days that never can be thine ? The pity of your gods our lot excites. Thyself to thought of errors past resign. Thanks to your representatives, Long-growing hope, and lofty plan, In you they see but shameless thieves,' Leave thou to us, to whom such things belong.

Who plunder gods as well as men. To you ! replied the old man hale and strong ; By sateless avarice insane, I dare pronounce you altogether wrong. The men that rule our land from this The settled part of man's estate Are like the bottomless abyss. Is very brief', and comes full late. To satisfy their lust of gain, To those pale, gaming sisters trine, Both man and nature toil hi vain. Your fives are stakes as well as mine.

Recall them ; for indeed we will While so uncertain is the sequel,

Our fields for such no longer till. Our terms of future life are equal From all our towns and plains we fly For none can tell who last shall close his eyes For refuge to our mountains high. Upon the glories of these azure skies We quit our homes and tender wives, Nor any moment give us, ere it flies, To lead with savage beasts our lives Assurance that another such shall rise. No more to welcome into day But my descendants, whosoe'er they be, A progeny for Rome a prey. Shall owe these cooling fruits and shades to me. And as to those already born Do you acquit yourselves, in wisdom's sight,

Poor helpless babes forlorn ! From ministering to other hearts delight ?

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boys, this is the fruit I gather now But how ? —A plan complete ! Why, ; And sweeter never 'blush'd on bended bough. I'll clip them of their feet Of this, to-morrow, I may take my fill Now, find me, in your human schools,

Indeed, I may enjoy its sweetness till A better use of logic's tools ! I see full many mornings chase the glooms Upon your faith, what different art of thought From off the marble of your youthful tombs. Has Aristotle or his followers taught* ? The grey-beard man was right. One of the three, Embarking fore'ign lands to see, Was drown' d within the very port. In quest of dignity at court, EPILOGUE. Another met his country's foe, And perish'd by a random blow. Tis thus, by crystal fount, my muse hath sung, Translating into heavenly tongue The third was kill'd by falling from a tree Whatever came within reach, Which he himself would graft. The three my hosts of beings borrowing nature's speech. Were mourn'd by him of hoary head, From Interpreter of tribes diverse, Who chisel'd on each monument I've made them actors on motley stage On doing good intent my For in this boundless universe The things which we have said. 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, IX.—THE MICE AND THE OWL. To that which I at least rough-hew Succeeding hands will give the finish due. Beware of saying, Lend an ear Ye pets of those sweet sisters nine, I To something marvellous or witty. Complete the task that resign ; To disappoint your friends who hear, The lessons give, which doubtless I've omitted, Is possible, and were a pity. With wings by these inventions nicely fitted. But now a clear exception see, But you're already more than occupied; Which I maintain a prodigy For while my muse her harmless work hath plied, A thing which with the air of fable, All Europe to our sovereign yields, Is true as is the interest-table. And learns, upon her battle-fields, A pine was by a woodman fell'd, To bow before the noblest plan Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree That ever monarch form'd, or man. An owl had for his palace held Thence draw those sisters themes sublime, A bird the Fates had kept in fee, With power to conquer Fate and Time. 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. BOOK XII. The bird had bit off all their feet, And fed them there with heaps of wheat. L—THE COMPANIONS OF ULYSSES. That this owl reason' d who can doubt \ TO MONSEIGNEUR THE DUKE DE BOURGOGNE. When to the chase he first went out, And home alive the vermin brought, Dear prince, a special favourite of the skies, Which in his talons he had caught, Pray let my incense from your altars rise. The nimble creatures ran away. With these her gifts if rather late my muse, Next time resolved to make them stay, My age and labours must her fault excuse. He cropp'd their legs, and found, with pleasure, My spirit wanes, while yours beams on the sight light That he could eat them at his leisure ; At every moment with augmented It were impossible to eat It does not go—it runs,—it seems to fly; Them all at once, did health permit. And he from whom it draws its traits so high, His foresight equal to our own, In war a hero burns to do the same. In furnishing their food was shown. No lack of his that, with victorious force, Now, let Cartesians, if they can, His giant strides mark not his glory's course:

Pronounce this owl a mere machine. Some god retains : our sovereign I might name ; Could springs originate the plan Himself no less than conqueror divine, Of maiming mice when taken lean, Whom one short month made master of the Rhine.

? To fatten for his soup-tureen It needed then upon the foe to dash ; If reason did no service there, Perhaps, to-day, such generalship were rash. I do not know it anywhere. But hush,—they say the Loves and Smiles

Observe the course of argument Abhor a speech spun out in miles ; These vermin axe no sooner caught than gone And of such deities your court They must be used as soon, 'tis evident Is constantly composed, in short. But this to all cannot be done. * La Fontaine, in a note, asserts that the subject of this then, for future need, And fable, however marvellous, was a fact which was actually I might as well take heed. observed. His commentators, however, think the observers Hence, while their ribs I lard, must have been in some measure mistaken, and I agree I must from their elopement guard. with them.—En.

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34 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book XII.

Not but that other gods, as meet, I say it, plain and flat, There hold the highest seat I'll change to no such state as that. For, free and lawless as the rest may seem, Next to the wolf the princely Greek

Good Ssnse and Reason bear a sway supreme. With flatteriug hope began to speak : Consult these last about the case Comrade, I blush, I must confess, Of certain men of Grecian race, To hear a gentle shepherdess Who, most unwise and indiscreet, Complaining to the echoing rocks Imbibed such draughts of poison sweet, Of that outrageous appetite As changed their form, and brutified. Which drives you, night by night, Ten years the heroes at Ulysses' side To prey upon her flocks. Had been the sport of wind and tide. You had been proud to guard her fold At last those powers of water In your more honest life of old. The sea-worn wanderers bore Pray quit this wolfship, now you can, To that enchanted shore And leave the woods an honest man.

Where Circe reign'd, Apollo's daughter. But is there one ? the wolf replied She press'd upon their thirsty lips Such man, I own, I never spied. Delicious drink, but full of bane You treat me as a ravenous beast,

Their reason, at the first light sips, But what are you ? To say the leas*, Laid down the sceptre of its reign. You would yourself have eat the sheep, Then took their forms and features Which, eat by me, the village weep. The lineaments of various creatures. Now, truly, on your faith confess, To bears and lions some did pass, Should I, as man, love flesh the less ?

Or elephants of ponderous mass Why, man, not seldom, kills his very brother ;

While not a few, I ween, What, then, are you but wolves to one another ? In smaller forms were seen, Now, everything with care to scan, In such, for instance, as the mole. And rogue with rogue to rate, Of all, the sage Ulysses sole I'd better be a wolf than man, Had wit to shun that treacherous bowl. And need not change my state. With wisdom and heroic mien, Thus all did wise Ulysses try, And fine address, he caused the queen And got from all the same reply, To swallow, on her wizard throne, As well from great as small.

A poison somewhat like her own. Wild liberty was dear to all ; A goddess, she to speak her wishes dared, To follow lawless appetite And hence, at once, her love declared. They counted their supreme delight. Ulysses, truly too judicious All banish' d from their thought and care To lose a moment so propitious, The glorious praise of actions fair. Besought that Circe would restore Where passion led, they thought their course was His Greeks the shapes that first they wore. free;

Replied the nymph, But will they take them back ? Self-bound, their chains they could not see. Go make the proffer to the motley pack.

Ulysses ran, both glad and sure : Prince, I had wish'd for you a theme to choose,

That poisonous cup, cried he, hath yet its cure ; Where I might mingle pleasantry with use ; And here I bring what ends your shame and And I should meet with your approving voice. pain. No doubt, if I could make such choice. Will you, dear friends, be men again ? At last, Ulysses' crew Pray speak, for speech is now restored. Were offer'd to my view. No, said the lion,—and he roar'd, And there are like them not a few,

My head is not so void of brains ! Who may for penalty await Renounce shall I my royal gains ? Your censure and your hate. 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. II.—THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS In such a change I see no charms. TO MONSEIGNEIR THE DUKE DE BOURGOGNE.

Ulysses passes to the bear : with a sparrow tame How changed, my friend, from what you were ! Contemporary

lived a cat ; from tenderest age, How sightly once, how ugly now ! There both, the basket and the cage Humph ! truly how 1 — Of Growl' d Bruin in his way Had household gods the same. full oft provoked the cat, How else than as a bear should be, I pray ? The bird's sharp beak Who taught your stilted highness to prefer Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, sparing with a merry laugh, One form to every other, sir ? His wee friend Doth yours possess peculiar powers Not punishing his faults by half. the harm, The merits to decide, of ours ? In short, he scrupled much With all respect, I shall appeal my case Should he with points his ferule arm. To some sweet beauty of the bearish race. The sparrow, less discreet than he, very free. Please pass it by, if you dislike my face. With dagger beak made Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, I live content, and free from care ; And, well remembering what we were, Excused the warmth with which he play'd :

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85 BOOK XII.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

Those discs, oft excite For 'tis full half of friendship's art which To take no joke in serious part. The strongest wishes mortal ever knows. Familiar since they saw the light, Had he not heard, at last, The turning of his master's key, Mere habit kept their friendship good ; Fair play had never turn'd to fight, The money all had pass'd The same short to Till, of their neighbourhood, road sea ; Another sparrow came to greet And not a single coin but had been pitch'd Old Ratto grave and saucy Pete. Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd. Between the birds a quarrel rose, Now, God preserve full many a financier side. And Ratto took his Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here. 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. IV.—THE TWO GOATS. And quick the stranger he devours. Now, truly, saith Sir Cat, Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, I know how sparrows taste by that. To follow fortune they've aspired. Exquisite, tender, delicate To pasturage they're wont to roam This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.- Where men are least disposed to come. But hence what moral can I bring % If any pathless place there be, For, lacking that important thing, Or cliff, or pendent precipice,

'Tis there they : A fable lacks its finishing : cut their capers free I seem to see of one some trace, There's nought can stop these dames, I wis. But still its shadow mocks my chase. Two goats, thus self-emancipated, white that then.' Yours, prince, it will not thus abuse : The on feet they wore For you such sports, and not my muse. Look'd back to noble blood of yore, In wit, she and her sisters eight Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, hills, Would fail to match you with a mate. And sought the 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, III.—THE MISER AND THE MONKEY. On which, if truth must be confest, Two weasels scarce could go abreast. A man amass'd. The thing, we know, And then the torrent, foaming white, Doth often to a frenzy grow. As down it tumbled from the height, No thought had he but of his minted gold Might well those Amazons affright. Stuff void of worth when unemploy'd, I hold. But maugre such a fearful rapid,

Now, that this treasure might the safer be, Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid ! Our miser's dwelling had the sea I seem to see our Louis Grand As guard on every side from every thief. And Philip IV. advance With pleasure very small in my belief, To the Isle of Conference, But very great in his, he there That lies 'twixt Spain and France, Upon his hoard bestow'd his care. Each sturdy for his glorious land. No respite came of everlasting Thus each of our adventurers goes, Till foot to foot, Recounting, calculating, casting ; and nose to nose, For some mistake would always come Somewhere about the midst they meet, To mar and spoil the total sum. And neither will an inch retreat. A monkey there, of goodly size, For why? they both enjoy'd the glory And than his lord, I think, more wise, Of ancestors in ancient story. Some doubloons from the window threw, The one, a goat of peerless rank And render'd thus the count untrue. Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, padlock'd Cyclop The room permitted The gave to Galatsea ; Its owner, when he quitted, The other famous Amalthaea, To leave his money on the table. The goat that suckled Jupiter, One day, bethought this monkey wise As some historians aver. To make the whole a sacrifice For want of giving back, in troth, To Neptune on his throne unstable. A common fall involved them both I could not well award the prize A common accident, no doubt, Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure On Fortune's changeful route. Derived from that devoted treasure. With some, Don Bertrand would he honour gain, For reasons it were tedious to explain. One day, then, left alone, TO MONSEIGNEUR THE DUKE DE BURGOGNE. That animal, to mischief prone, WHO HAD REQUESTED OF M. DE LA FONTAINE A FABLE Coin after coin detach'd, WHICH SHOULD BE CALLED "THE CAT AND THE MOUSE." A gold jacobus snatch'd, Or Portuguese doubloon, To please a youthful prince, whom Fame Or silver ducatoon, A temple in my writings vows, Or noble, of the English rose, What fable answers to the name, And flung with all his might "The Cat and Mouse?"

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Shall I in verse the fair present, Or see, their friend, at least, With softest look but hard intent, And ease his anxious mind Who serves the hearts her charms entice An irksome multitude.

As does the cat its captive mice ? Ah, sirs ! the sick was fain to cry, Or make my subject Fortune's sport ? Pray leave me here to die, She treats the friends that make her court, As others do, in solitude. And follow closest her advice, Pray, let your kind attentions cease, As treats the cat the silly mice. Till death my spirit shall release. But comforters are not so sent Shall I for theme a king select On duty sad full long intent, Who sole, of all her favourites, When Heaven pleased, they went, Commands the goddess's respect ? friendly But not without a glass ; For whom she from her wheel alights ? That is to say, they cropp'd the grass never stay'd foes trice, Who, by a And leaves which in that quarter grew, Whene'er they block his way, From which the sick his pittance drew. Can with the strongest play By kindness thus compell'd to fast, doth the cat with mice ? As He died for want of food at last. take off Insensibly, white casting thus about, The men no txifling dole heal the Quite anxious for my subject's sake, Who body or the soul. Alas the times ! do what we will, A theme I meet, and, if I don't mistake, They have their payment, cure or kill. Shall spoil it, too, by spinning out. The prince will treat my muse, for that, As mice are treated by the cat. VII.—THE BAT, THE BUSH, AND THE DUCK

A bush, duck, and bat, having found that in trade -THE OLD CAT AND TEE YOUNG MOUSE. Confined to their country small profits were made, Into partnership enter'd to traffic abroad, [fraud. young and inexperienced mouse A Then.' purse, held in common, well guarded from Had faith to try a veteran cat,— Their factors and agents, these trading allies Raminagrobis, death to rat, Employ'd where they needed, as cautious as wise : And scourge of vermin through the house, Their journals and ledgers, exact and discreet, Appealing to his clemency Recorded by items expense and receipt. With reasons sound and fair. All throve, till an argosy, on its way home, Pray let me live ; a mouse like me With a cargo worth more than their capital sum, It were not much to spare. In attempting to pass through a dangerous strait, Am I, in such a family, Went down with its passengers, sailors, and freight, A burden ? Would my largest wish To enrich those enormous and miserly stores, Our wealthy host impoverish ? From Tai*tarus distant but very few doors. A grain of wheat will make my meal Regret was a thing which the firm could but feel A nut will fat me like a seal. Regret was the thing they were slow to reveal I'm lean at present please to wait, ; For the least of a merchant well knows that the weal And for your heirs reserve my fate. Of his credit requires him his loss to conceal. The captive mouse thus spake. But that which our trio unluckily suffer'd Replied the captor, You mistake ; Allow'd no repair, and of course was discover'd. To me shall such a thing be said ? No money nor credit, 'twas plain to be seen Address the deaf ! address the dead ! Their heads were now threaten 'd with bonnets of cat to pardon ! old one too ! A — green * Why, such a thing I never knew. And, the facts of the case being everywhere known, Thou victim of my paw, No mortal would open his purse with a loan. By well-establish' d law, Debts, bailiffs, and lawsuits, and creditors gruff, Die as a mousling should, At the crack of day knocking, And beg the sisterhood (Importunity shocking !) Who ply the thread and shears, Our trio kept busy enough. To lend thy speech their ears. The bush, ever ready and. on the alert, Some other like repast Now caught all the people it could by the skirt : My heirs may find, or fast. Pray, sir, be so good as to tell, if you please, He ceased. The moral 's plain. If you know whereabout the old villanous seas Youth always hopes its ends to gain, Have hid all our goods which they stole t'other night. Believes all spirits like its own : The diver, to seek them, went down out of sight. Old age is not to mercy prone. 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, VI.—THE SICK STAG. Nor bushes, nor divers, I happen to know, But even grand seigniors, quite free from all cares, A stag, where stags abounded, By virtue of brass, and of private backstairs. Fell sick, and was surrounded * Such as insolvent debtors were anciently required to Forthwith by comrades kind, wear, in France, after making cession of their effects, in All pressing to assist, order to escape imprisonment.—Ed.

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VIII.—THE QUARREL OF THE DOGS AND CATS, IX.—THE WOLF AND THE FOX. AND THAT OF THE CATS AND MICE. Whence comes it that there liveth not

Enthroned by an eternal law, A man contented with his lot ? Hath discord reign 'd throughout the universe, Here 's one who would a soldier be, In proof, I might from this our planet draw Whom soldiers all Avith envy see. A thousand instances diverse. Within the circle of our view, A fox to be a wolf once sigh'd. This queen hath subjects not a few. With disappointments mortified, Beginning with the elements, Who knows but that, his wolfship cheap, It is astonishing to see The wolf himself would be a sheep ? How they have stood, to all intents, As wrestlers from eternity. I marvel that a prince is able, Besides these four great potentates, eight, At to put the thing in fable ; Old stubborn earth, fire, flood, and air, While I, beneath my seventy snows, How many other smaller states Forge out, with toil and time, Are waging everlasting war ! The same in labour'd rhyme, In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, Less striking than his prose.

Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes ; Decrees, promulged in maimer solemn, The traits which in his work we meet, Had pacified their ancient feuds. A poet, it must be confess'd, Their lord had so arranged their meals and Could not have half so well express'd' labours, He bears the palm as more complete. And threaten'd quarrels with the whip, 'Tis mine to sing it to the pipe That, living in sweet cousinship, ; But I expect that when the sands They edified their wondering neighbours. Of Time have made my hero ripe, At last, some dainty plate to lick, He'll put a trumpet in my hands. Or profitable bone to pick, Bestow'd by some partiality, mind but little doth aspire Broke up the smooth equality. My To prophecy but yet it reads The side neglected were indignant ; high, that soon his glorious deeds At such a slight malignant. On Full many Homers will require Some writers make the whole dispute begin Of which this age produces few. With favours to a bitch while lying in. But, bidding mysteries adieu, Whate'er the cause, the altercation I powers upon this fable new. Soon grew a perfect conflagration. try my In hall and kitchen, dog and eat Dear wolf, complain'd a hungry fox, Took sides with zeal for this or that. A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, New rules upon the cat side falling Is all I get by toil or trick : Produced tremendous caterwauling. Of such a living 1 am sick. Their advocate, against such rules as -these, With far less risk, you've better Advised recurrence to the old decrees. cheer A house you need not venture near, They search'd in vain, for, hidden in a nook, But I must do it, spite of fear. The thievish mice had eaten up the book. Pray, make me master of your trade, Another quarrel, in a trice, And let me by that means be made Made many sufferers with the mice ; The first of all my race that took For many a veteran whisker'd-face, Fat mutton to his larder's hook : With craft and cunning richly stored, Your kindness shall not be repented. And grudges old against the race, The wolf quite readily consented. Now watch'd to put them to the sword ; I have a brother, lately dead Nor mourn'd for this that mansion's lord. ; Go fit his skin to yours, he said.

'Twas done and then the wolf : Resuming our discourse, we see ; proceeded Now mark you well what must be done. No creature from opponents free. dogs that guard the law for earth The flock to shun. 'Tis nature's and sky ; The fox the lessons strictly heeded. 'Twere vain to ask the reason why ; At first, he boggled in his dress God's works are good,—I cannot doubt it, ; But awkwardness grew less and less, And that is all I know about it. Till perseverance gave success. I know, however, that the cause His education scarce complete, Which hath our human quarrels brought, A flock, his scholarship to greet, Three quarters of the time, is nought Came rambling out that way. That will be, is, or ever was. The new-made wolf his work began, Ye veterans, in state and church, Amidst the heedless nibblers At threescore years, indeed, ran, And spread a sore dismay. It seems there still is need Such terror did Patroclus spread, To give you lessons with the birch ! When on the Trojan camp and town, Clad in Achilles' armour dread, He valiantly came down.

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The matrons, maids, and aged men The by-path where they met was drear, All hurried to the temples then. And Madge gave up herself for lost The bleating host now surely thought But having dined on ample cheer,

fifty on spot : her, that wolves were the The eagle bade Never fear ; sheep, all fled, Dog, shepherd, homeward You're welcome to my company ; And left a single sheep in pawn, For if the king of gods can be Which Renard seized when they were gone. Full oft in need of recreation, But, ere upon his prize he fed, Who rules the world,—right well may I, There crow'd a cock near by, and down Who serve him in that high relation The scholar threw his prey and gown, Amuse me, then, before you fly. That he might run that way the faster Our cackler, pleased, at quickest rate Forgetting lessons, prize and master. Of this and that began to prate.

How useless is the art of seeming ! Not he of whom old Flaccus writes, Reality, in every station, The most impertinent of wights, Is through its cloak at all times gleaming, Or any babbler, for that matter, And bursting out on fit occasion. Could more incontinently chatter. At last she offer'd to make known Young prince, to your unrivall'd wit A better spy had never flown Sly muse gives credit, as is fit, All things, whatever she might see. For what she here hath labour'd with In travelling from tree to tree. The subject, characters, and pith. But, with her offer little pleased Nay, gathering wrath at being teased, For such a purpose never rove, X.—THE LOBSTER AND HER DAUGHTER. Replied th' impatient bird of Jove.

Adieu, my cackling friend, adieu ; The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, My court is not the place for you : To gain their ends back foremost go. Heaven keep it free from such a bore ! It is the rower's art ; and those Madge flapp'd her wings, and said no more. Commanders who mislead their foes, Do often seem to aim their sight 'Tis far less easy than it seems Just where they don't intend to smite. An entrance to the great to gain. My theme, so low, may yet apply The honour oft hath cost extremes To one whose fame is very high, Of mortal pain. Who finds it not the hardest matter The craft of spies, the tattling art, A hundred-headed league to scatter. And looks more gracious than the heart, What he will do, what leave undone, Are odious there ; Are secrets with unbroken seals, But still, if one would meet success, Till victory the truth reveals. Of different parishes the dress Whatever he would have unknown He, like the pie, must wear. 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, NIL—THE KING, THE KITE, AND THE Exceeds hundred gods in a weight. FALCONER. So Fate and Louis would seem able MONSEIGNEUR THE PRINCS The universe to draw, TO HIS AUGUST HIGHNESS, DE CONTI. Bound captive to their law. But come we to our fable. The gods, for that themselves are good, lobster A mother did her daughter chide : The like in mortal monarchs would.

For shame, my daughter ! can't you go ahead \ The prime of royal rights is grace ; go And how you yourself? the child replied : To this e'en sweet revenge gives place. Can I be but by your example led ? So thinks your highness, while your wrath Head foremost should I, singularly, wend. Its cradle for its coffin hath. While all my race pursue the other end ? Achilles no such conquest knew She spoke with sense : for better or for worse, In this a hero less than you. Example has a universal force. That name indeed belongs to none, To some it opens wisdom's door, Save those who have, beneath the sun, But leads to folly many more. Their hundred generous actions done. Yet, as for backing to one's aim, The golden age produced such powers, When properly pursued But truly few this age of ours. The art is doubtless good, The men who now the topmost sit, At least in grim Bellona's game. Are thank 'd for crimes which they omit. For you, unharm'd by such examples, A thousand noble deeds are winning temples, XI.—THE EAGLE AND THE MAGPIE. Wherein Apollo, by the altar-fire, Shall strike your name upon his golden lyre.

The eagle, through the air a queen, The gods await you in their azure dome ; And one far different, I ween, One age must serve for this your lower home. In temper, language, thought, and mien, One age entire with you would Hymen dwell The magpie,—once a prairie cross'd. that his sweetest spell

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BOOK XII.j THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 8«

For you a destiny may bind Know we, they say,—both lord and liege,

By such a period scarce confined ! This bird saw not'the Trojan siege % The princess and yourself no less deserve. Perhaps a hero's part he bore,

Her charms as witnesses shall serve ; And there the highest helmet wore. As witnesses, those talents high What once he was, he yet may be. Pour'd on you by the lavish sky, Taught by Pythagoras are we, all peers That we our Outshining pretence of forms with animals exchange ; Throughout your youthful yeai's. We're kites or pigeons for a while,

A Boui'bon seasons grace with wit : Then biped plodders on the soil To that which gains esteem in mixture fit, And then He adds a portion from above As volatile, again Wherewith to waken love. The liquid air we range.

To paint your joy—my task is less sublime : Now since two versions of this tale exist, I therefore turn aside to rhyme I'll give the other if you list. What did a certain bird of prey. A certain falconer had caught A kite, and for his sovereign thought A kite, possessor of a nest antique, The bird a present rich and rare. Was caught alive one day. It may be once a century It was the captor's freak is Such game taken from the air ; That this so rare a bird For 'tis the pink of falconry. Should on his sovereign be confex*r'd. The captor pierced the courtier crowd, The kite, presented by the man of chase, With zeal if life and sweat, as for ; With due respect, before the monarch's face, Of such a princely present proud, If our account is true, His hopes of fortune sprang full rife Immediately flew When, slap, the savage made him feel And perch'd upon the royal nose. His talons newly arm'd with steel, What ! on the nose of majesty? By perching on his nasal member, Ay, on the consecrated nose did he. As if it had been senseless timber. Had not the king his sceptre his crown ? and Outshriek'd the wight ; but peals of laughter, Why, if he had, or had not, 'twere all one Which threaten' d cieling, roof, and rafter, The royal nose, as if it clown, graced a From courtier, page, and monarch broke : seized. Was The things by courtiers done, Who had not laugh'd at such a joke % And said, and shriek'd, 'twere hopeless to relate. From me, so prone am I to such a sin, The king in silence sate ; An empire had not held me in. An outcry for a sovereign king, I dare not say, 'that, had the pope been there, Were quite an unbecoming thing. would join'd He have the laugh sonorous ; bird retain 'd the post where he had fasten'd The ; But sad the king, I hold, who should not dare No cries nor efforts his departure hasten'd. To lead for such a cause in such a chorus. His master call'd, as in an agony of pain, The gods are laughers. Spite of ebon brows, Presented lure and fist, but all in vain. Jove joins the laugh which he allows. It seem'd as if the cursed bird, As history saith, the thunderer's laugh went up With instinct most absurd, When limping Vulcan served the nectar cup. In spite of all the noise and blows, Whether or not immortals here are wise, Would roost upon that sacred nose ! Good sense, I think, in my digression lies. The urging off of courtiers, pages, master, For, since the moral 's what we have in view,

But roused his will to cling the faster. What could the falconer's fate have taught us new ? At last he quit, as thus the monarch spoke : Who does not notice, in the course of things,

Give egress hence, imprimis, to this kite, More foolish falconers than indulgent kings ? 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. XIII.—THE FOX, THE FLIES, AND THE As in our station it is fit, HEDGEHOG. We do all punishment remit. The court admired. The courtiers praised the A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly, deed By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud, In which themselves did but so ill succeed. Attracted, by the traces of his blood, Few kings had taken such a course. That buzzing parasite, the fly. have fared far The fowler might worse ; He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why His only crime, as of his kite, The Fates so cruelly should wish Consisted in his want of light To feast the fly on such a costly dish. About the danger there might be T W hat ! light on me ! make me its food ! In coming near to royalty. Me, me, the nimblest of the wood !

Forsooth, their scope had wholly been How long has fox-meat been so good ? 1 — Within the woods. Was that a sin What serves my tail' % Is it a useless weight ? By Pilpay this remarkable affair Go,—Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate !- Is beside flood. placed the Ganges' And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins ! No human creature ventures, there, A hedgehog, witnessing his pains, To shed of animals the blood : (This fretful personage r Ihe deed not even royalty would dare. Here graces first my page,)

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Desired to set him free And on the name of that divinity From such cupidity. For whom its adoration was to be My neighbour fox, said he, These words I should have written o'er its gate My quills these rascals shall empale, To Iris is this palace consecrate; And ease thy torments without fail. Not her who served the queen divine

Not for the world, my friend ! the fox replied. For Juno's self, and he who crown'd her bliss. Pray let them finish their repast. Had thought it for their dignity, I wis, These flies are full. Should they he set aside, To bear the messages of mine. New hungrier swarms would finish me at last. Within the dome the apotheosis Consumers are too common here below, Should greet th' enraptured sight In court and camp, in church and state, we know. All heaven, in pomp and order meet, Old Aristotle's penetration Conducting Iris to her seat

Remark'd our fable's application ; Beneath a canopy of light ! It might more clearly in our nation. The walls would amply serve to paint her life,— The fuller certain men are fed, A matter sweet, indeed, but little rile The less the public will be bled. 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, XIV.—LOVE AND FOLLY. Her art of pleasing without care, Her loveliness, that's sure of homage. Love bears a world of mystery Some mortals, kneeling at her feet, His arrows, quiver, torch, and infancy : Earth's noblest heroes,— should be seen 'Tis not a trifling work to sound ; Ay, demigods, and even gods, I ween : A sea of science so profound : (The worshipp'd of the world thinks meet, And, hence, t' explain it all to-day Sometimes her altar to perfume.) Is not my aim, but, in my simple way, Her eyes, so far as that might be, To show how that blind archer lad Her soul's rich jewel should allume (And he a god !) came by the loss of sight, Alas ! but how imperfectly ! And eke what consequence the evil had, For could a heart that throb'b'd to bless Or good, perhaps, if named aright— Its friends with boundless tenderness, A point I leave the lover to decide, Or could that heaven-descended mind As fittest judge, who hath the matter tried. Which, in its matchless beauty, join'd Together, on a certain day, The strength of man with woman's grace, Said Love and Folly were at play : Be given to sculptor to express ? The former yet enjoy'd his eyes. Iris, who canst charm the soul Dispute arose. Love thought it wise Nay, bind it with supreme control, Before the council of the gods to go, Whom as myself I can but love,— Where both of them by birth held stations ', (Nay, not that word : as I'm a man, But Folly, in her lack of patience, Your court has placed it under ban, Dealt on his forehead such a blow And we'll dismiss it,) pray approve As seal'd his orbs to all the light of heaven. My filling up this hasty plan ! Now Venus claim'd that vengeance should be given. This sketch has hare received a place, And by what force of tears yourselves may guess A simple anecdote to grace, The woman and the mother sought redress. Where friendship shows so sweet a face, The gods were deafen'd with her cries — That in its features you may find Jove, Nemesis, the stern assize Somewhat accordant to your mind. Of Orcus,— all the gods, in short, Not that the tale may kings beseem From whom she might the boon extort. ; But he Avho winneth your esteem The enormous wrong she well portray 'd Is not a monarch placed above Her son a wretched groper made, The need and influence of love, An ugly staff his steps to aid ! But simple mortal, void of crown, For such a crime, it would appear, That would for friends his life lay down-- No punishment could be severe : Than which I know no friendlier act. The damage, too, must be repair'd. Four animals, in league compact, The case maturely weigh'd and east, Are now to give our noble race The public weal with private squared : A useful lesson in the case, Poor Folly was condemn 'd at last, By judgment of the court above, Bat, raven, tortoise, and gazelle, To serve for aye as guide to Love. 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 : XV.—THE RAVEN, THE GAZELLE, THE TOR- Pierce you the loneliest wood, TOISE, AND THE RAT. Or dive beneath the deepest flood, TO MADAME DE LA SABLIERE. Or mount you where the eagles brood, His secret ambuscade you meet. temple 1 reserved you in my rhyme : A The light gazelle, in haimiless play, It might not be completed but with time. Amused herself abroad one day, Already its I had grounded endurance When, by mischance, her track was found Upon this charming art, divinely founded ; And follow'd by the baying hound

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That barbarous tool of barbarous man— . Aside his wallet threw, From which far, far away she ran. Which Rongemail took care At meal-time to the others To serve as he had done the snare The rat observed,—My brothers, Thus putting to an end How happens it that we The hunter's supper on his friend. Are met to-day but three ? 'Tis thus sage Pilpay's tale I follow. Is Miss Gazelle so little steady ? Were I the ward of golden-hair'd Apollo, Hath she forgotten us already ? It were, by favour of that god, easy Out cried the tortoise at the word, And surely for your sake Were I, as Raven is, a bird, As long a tale to make I'd fly this instant from my seat, As is the Iliad or Odyssey. And learn what accident, and where, Grey Rongemail the hero's part should play, Hath kept away our sister fair, Though each would be as needful in his way. Our sister of the flying feet He of the mansion portable awoke For of her heart, dear rat, Sir Raven by the words he spoke, It were a shame to doubt of that. To act the spy, and then the swift express.

The raven flew ; The light gazelle alone had had th' address He spied afar,—the face he knew, The hunter to engage, and furnish time The poor gazelle entangled in a snare, For Rongemail to do his deed sublime. In anguish vainly floundering there. Thus each his part perform'd. Which wins the prize?

Straight back he turn'd, and gave the alarm ; The heart, so far as in my judgment lies. 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 XVI.—THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN. The turning-point of fate, As would the master of a school, A certain wood-chopper lost or broke He was by no means such a fool. From his axe's eye a bit of oak. On tidings of so sad a pith, The forest must needs be somewhat spared The three their council held forthwith. While such a loss was being repair' d. Came the last, By two it was the vote man at and humbly prayM To hasten to the spot That the woods would kindly lend to him Where lay the poor gazelle. A moderate loan—a single limb, Our friend here in his shell, Whereof might another helve be made, I think, will do as well And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. To guard the house, the raven said 0, the oaks and firs that then might stand, For, with his creeping pace, A pride and a joy throughout the land,

For their ancientness and glorious ! When would he reach the place I charms The innocent Forest lent him anus Not till the deer were dead. ; Eschewing more debate, But bitter indeed was her regret; They flew to aid their mate, For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, That luckless mountain roe. Did nought but his benefactress spoil The tortoise, too, resolved to go. Of the finest trees that graced her soil Behold him plodding on behind, And ceaselessly was she made to groan, And plainly cursing in his mind, Doing penance for that fatal loan. The fate that left his legs to lack, Behold the world-stage and its actors, And glued his dwelling to his back. Where benefits hurt benefactors ! The snare was cut by Rongemail, A weary theme, and full of pain ; (For so the rat they rightly hail.) For where 's the shade so cool and sweet, Conceive their joy yourself you may. Protecting strangers from the heat, Just then the hunter came that way, But might of such a wrong complain ? And, Who hath filch'd my prey ? Alas ! I vex myself in. vain : Cried he, upon the spot Ingratitude, do what I will, Where now his prey was not. Is sure to be the fashion still A hole hid Rongemail ; A tree the bird as well The woods, the free gazelle. The hunter, well nigh mad, XVII.—THE FOX, THE WOLF, ASD THE HORSE. To find no inkling could be had, Espied the tortoise in his path, A fox, though young, by no means raw,

And straightway check'd his wrath. Had seen a horse—the first he ever saw :

Why let my courage flag? Ho ! neighbour wolf, said he to one quite green,

Because my snare has chanced to miss ? A creature in our meadow I have seen,

I'll have a supper out of this. Sleek, grand ! I seem to see him yet, He said, and put it in his bag. The finest beast I ever met. And it had paid the forfeit so, Is he a stouter one than we ? Had not the raver, told the roe, The wolf demanded, eagerly. Who from her covert came, Some picture of him let me see. Pretending to be lame. If I could paint, said fox, I should delight The man, right eager to pursue, T' anticipate your pleasure at the sight

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92 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book XII.

Their infant cries, perhaps not fed, But come ; who knows ? perhaps it is a prey — cries, I in vain By fortune offer'd in our way. But ween, ; They went. The horse, turn'd loose to graze, The father laughs : his wife is dead, Not liking much their looks or ways, And he has other loves again, will also think, Was just about to gallop off. Which he beat, I Sir, said the fox, your humble servants, we Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink. Make bold to ask you what your name may be. For aught that's good, you need not look The horse, an animal with brains enough, Among the imitative tribe ; Replied, Sirs, you yourselves may read my name A monkey be it, or what makes a book ; My shoer round my heel hath writ the same. The worse, I deem—the aping scribe.

The fox excused himself for want of knowledge : Me, sir, my parents did not educate, So poor, a hole was their entire estate. XX.—THE SCYTHIAN PHILOSOPHER. My friend, the wolf, however, taught at college, Could read it were it even Greek. A Scythiax philosopher austere, The wolf, to flattery weak, Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer, Approach'd, to verify the boast ; Perform'd the tour of Greece, saw many things, For which, four teeth he lost. But, best, a sage,—one such as Virgil sings, The high-raised hoof came down with such a blow. A simple, rustic man, that equal'd kings ; As laid him bleeding on the ground full low. From whom the gods would hardly bear the palm, My brother, said the fox, this shows how just Like them unawed, content, and calm. What once was taught wit, little me by a fox of His fortune was a nook of land ; Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ, And there the Scythian found him, hook in hand, j : ' All unknown things the wise mistrust." His fruit-trees pruning. Here he cropp'd A barren branch, there slash'd and lopp'd, Correcting NaUrre everywhere, XYIIL—THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS. Who paid with usury his care. Pray, why this wasteful havoc, sir ? So spoke the wondering traveller Against a robber fox, a tree ; Some turkeys served as citadel. Can it, I ask, in reason's name, That villain, much provoked to see Be wise these harmless trees to maim ? Each standing there as sentinel, Fling down that instrument of crime, Cried out, Such witless birds And leave them to the scythe of Time. Full soon, unhasten'd, they will go At me stretch out their necks, and gobble ! To deck the banks of streams below. No, by the powers ! I'll give them trouble. He verified his words. Replied the tranquil gardener, I humbly crave your pardon, sir The moon, that shined full on the oak, ; Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. Excess is all my hook removes, But fox, in arts of siege well versed, By which the rest more fruitful proves. Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. The philosophic traveller, his cold, He feign'd himself about to Once more within country climb ; Walk'd on his hinder Himself of pruning-hook laid hold, legs sublime ; a use most free bold Then death most aptly counterfeited, And made and ; And seem'd anon resuscitated. Prescribed to friends, and counsel'd neighbours A practiser of wizard arts To imitate his pruning labours. finest limbs he did not spare, Could not have fill'd so many parts. The his In moonlight he contrived to raise But pruned orchard past all reason, Regarding neither time nor season, His tail, and make it seem a blaze : taking of the care. And countless other tricks like that. Nor moon a All wither'd, droop'd, and died. Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. Their constant vigilance at length, This Scythian I set beside As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. The indiscriminating Stoic. Bewilder' d by the rigs he run, The latter, with a blade heroic, They lost their balance one by one. Retrenches, from his spirit sad, As Renard slew, he laid aside, Desires and passions, good and bad, Till nearly half of Not sparing e'en a harmless wish. them had died ; Then proudly to his larder bore, Against a tribe so Vandalish And laid them up, an ample store. With earnestness I here protest. They our hearts, they stupefy A foe, by being over-heeded, maim Their strongest springs, if not their best Has often in his plan succeeded. ; They make us cease to live before we die.

XIX.—THE APE. XXL—THE ELEPHANT AND THE APE OF JUPITER. There is an ape in Paris, To which was given a wife 'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose Like many a one that marries, About precedence a dispute arose, Which they blows. This ape, in brutal strife, determined to decide by The day was fix'd, when came a messenger Soon beat her out of life.

22. — — —— ; —

HOOK XII.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. 93

To say the ape of Jupiter They raise the laugh at your expense. Was swiftly earthward seen to bear To check their babble, were it sense

His bright caduceus through the air. Their folly meetly to chastise ? This monkey, named in history Gill, Perhaps 'twill take a stronger man. The elephant at once believed Then make them worry one who can. A high commission had received To witness, by his sovereign's will, The aforesaid battle fought. XXIII.—THE ENGLISH FOX. Uplifted by the glorious thought, TO MADAM HARVEY. The beast was prompt on Monsieur Gill to wait, But found him slow, in usual forms of state, Sound reason and a tender heart His high credentials to present. With thee are friends that never part. The ape, however, ere he went, A hundred traits might swell the roll ; Bestow'd a passing salutation. Suffice to name thy nobleness of soul His excellency would have heard Thy power to guide both men and things ; The subject matter of legation : Thy temper open, bland and free, But not a word ! A gift that draweth friends to thee, His fight, so far from stirring heaven, To which thy firm affection clings,

The news was not received there, even ! Unmarr'd by age or change of clime,

What difference sees the impartial sin- Or tempests of this stormy time ; Between an elephant and fly ? All which deserve, in highest lyric,

Our monarch, doting on his object, A rich and lofty panegyric : Was forced himself to break the subject. But no such thing wouldst thou desire, My cousin Jupiter, said he, Whom pomp displeases, praises tire. Will shortly, from his throne supreme, Hence mine is simple, short, and plain ; A most important combat see, Yet, madam, I would fain For ail his court a thrilling theme. Tack on a word or two What combat? said the ape, with serious face. Of homage to your country due, Ia't possible you should not know the case \ — A country well beloved by you. The elephant exclaim'd—not know, dear sir, With mind to match the outward case, That Lord Rhinoceros disputes The English are a thinking race. With me precedence of the brutes ? They pierce all subjects through and through That Elephantis is at war Well arm'd with facts, they hew their way, With savage hosts of Rhiiiocer ? And give to science boundless sway. You know these realms, not void of fame I Quite free from flattery, I say, I joy to learn them now by name, Your countrymen, for penetration, Return'd Sir Gill, for, first or last, Must bear the palm from every nation No lisp of them has ever pass'd ; For e'en the dogs they breed excel Throughout our dome so blue and vast. Our own in nicety of smell. Abash'd, the elephant replied, Your foxes, too, are cunninger, What came you, then, to do ? As readily we may infer Between two emmets to divide From one that practised, 'tis believed, A spire of grass in two. A stratagem the best conceived. We take of all a care ; The wretch, once, in the utmost strait And, as to your affair, By dogs of nose so delicate, Befoi'e the gods, who view with equal eyes Approach'd a gallows, where, The small and great, it hath not chanced to rise. 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, XXII.—THE FOOL AND THE SAGE. Arranged himself among the dead. I seem to see old Hannibal Outwit some Roman general, A fool pursued, with club and stone, And sit securely in his tent, A sage, who said, My friend, well done ! The legions on some other scent. Receive this guinea for your pains ; But certain dogs, kept back They well deserve far higher gains. To tell the errors of the pack, The workman 's worthy of his hire, Arriving where the traitor hung, 'Tis said. There comes a wealthy squire, A fault in fullest chorus sung. Who hath wherewith thy works to pay ; Though by their bark the welkin rung, To him direct thy gifts, and they Their master made them hold the tongue. Shall gain their proper recompense. Suspecting not a trick so odd, Urged by the hope of gain, Said he, the rogue 's beneath the sod. Upon the wealthy citizen My dogs, that never saw such jokes, The fool repeated the offence. Won't bark beyond these honest folks. His pay this time was not in gold. Upon the witless man The rogue would try the trick again. A score of ready footmen ran, He did so to his cost and pain.

And on his back, in full, his wages told. Again with dogs the welkin rings ; In courts, fools fox gallows swings such afflict the wise ; Again our from ;

223 : ; ; ——; —— ; —; ; ——

94 THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book XII.

But though he hangs with greater faith, The same complaint, in fens and bogs, it his Still strains This time, he does to death. ever their lungs ; So uniformly is it true, And yet these much-complaining frogs A stratagem is best when new. Had better hold their tongues" The hunter, had himself been hunted, For, should the sun in anger rise, So apt a trick had not invented And hurl his vengeance from the skies, Not that his wit had been deficient ; That kingless, half-aquatic crew With that, it cannot be denied, Their impudence would sorely rue.

Your English folks are well-provision'd ; But wanting love of life sufficient, Full many an Englishman has died. XXV.-THE LEAGUE OP THE RATS.

One word to you, and I must quit A mouse was once in mortal fear much-inviting subject My Of a cat that watch' d her portal near. A long eulogium is a project What could be done in such a ease I For which my lyre is all unfit. With prudent care she left the catship, The song or verse is truly rare, And courted, with a humble grace, Which can its meed of incense bear, A neighbour of a higher race, And yet amuse the general ear, Whose lordship—I should say his ratship wing its way to lands afar. Or Lay in a great hotel Your prince once told you, I have heard, And who had boasted oft, 'tis said, able judge, as rumour says.) (An Of living wholly without dread. one dash of love preferr'd That he Well, said this braggart, well, To all a sheet could hold of praise. — Dame Mouse, what should I do Accept 'tis all I crave the offering — Alone I cannot rout here muse has dared to bring Which my The foe that threatens you. Her last, perhaps, of earthly acts I'll rally all the rats about, She blushes at its sad defects. And then Fll play him such a trick ! Still, your favour of my rhyme, by The mouse her courtesy dropp'd, Might not the self-same homage please, the while, And off the hero scamper'd quick. The dame who fills your northern clime Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd, With winged emigrants sublime Where scores of rats were clustered, From Cytherea's isle ? In riotous extravagance, this, you understand, I mean By All feasting at the host's expense. Love's guardian goddess, Mazarin. To him, arriving there much flustered, Indeed, quite out of breath, A rat among the feasters saith, XXW.-THE SUN AND THE FROGS. What news ? what news ? I pray you, speak The rat, recovering breath to squeak, Long from the monarch of the stars Replied, To tell the matter in a trice,

The daughters of the mud received It is, that we must promptly aid the mice ;

Support and aid ; nor dearth nor wars, For old Raminagrab is making Meanwhile, their teeming nation grieved. Among their ranks a dreadful quaking. They spread their empire far and wide This cat, of cats the very devil, Through every marsh, by every tide. When mice are gone, will do us evil. The queens of swamps—I mean no more True, true, said each and all

Than simply frogs (great names are cheap)- To arms ! to arms ! they cry and call. Caball'd together on the shore, Some ratties by their fears And cursed their patron from the deep, Were melted e'en to tears. And came to be a perfect bore. It matter'd not a whisk, Pride, rashness, and ingratitude, Nor check'd the valour brisk. The progeny of fortune good, Each took upon his back Soon brought them to a bitter cry, Some cheese in havresack, The end of sleep for earth and sky. And roundly swore to risk Their clamours, if they did not craze, His carcass in the cause. Would truly seem enough to raise They march'd as to a feast, All living things to mutiny Not flinching in the least, Against the power of Nature's eye. But quite too late, for in his jaws The sun, according to their croak, The cat already held the mouse. Was turning all the world to smoke. They rapidly approach'd the house It now behoved to take alarm, To save their friend, beyond a doubt. And promptly powerful troops to arm. Just then the cat came growling out, Forthwith in haste they sent The mouse beneath his whisker'd nose, Their croaking embassies And march'd along before his foes. To all their states they went, At such a voice, our rats discreet, And all their colonies. Foreboding a defeat, To hear them talk, the all Effected, in a style most fleet, That rides upon this whirling ball, A fortunate retreat. Of men and things, was left at stake Back hurried to his hole each rat,

"Upon the mud that skirts a lake ! And afterwards took care to shun the cat. —— - — " : —— !

BOOK XII.] THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

But, ah ! too deeply I have won your hate : XXVI.—DAPHNIS AND ALCIMADURE. Nor should it be surprising news AN IMITATION OF THEOCRITUS. To me, that you should now refuse To lighten thus my cruel fate. TO MADAME DE LA MESANGERE. My sire, when I shall be no more, Is charged to lay your feet before Offspring of her to whom, to-day, The heritage your heart neglected. While from thy lovely self away, With this my pasturage shall be connected, their A thousand hearts homage pay*, My trusty dog, and all that he protected ; Besides the throngs whom friendship binds to please, And, of my goods which then remain,

And some whom love presents thee on their knees i My mourning friends shall rear a fane. A mandate which I cannot thrust aside There shall your image stand, midst rosy bowers, Between you both impels me to divide Reviving through the ceaseless hours Some of the incense which the dews distil An altar built of living flowers. Upon the roses of a sacred hill, Near by, my simple monument And which, by secret of my trade, Shall this short epitaph present Is sweet and most delicious made. " Here Daphnis died of love. Stop, passenger, To you, I say, .... but all to say And say thou, with a falling tear,

Would task me far beyond my day ; This youth here fell, unable to endure

I need judiciously to choose ; The ban of proud Alcimadure. Thus husbanding my voice and muse, Whose strength and leisure soon will fail. He would have added, but his heart I'll only praise your tender heart, and hale, Now felt the last, the fatal dart. Exalted feelings, wit, and grace, Forth march'd the maid, in triumph deck'd, In which there's none can claim a higher place, And of his murder little reck'd. Excepting her whose praise is your entail. In vain her steps her own attendants check'd, Let not too many thorns forbid to touch And plead These roses—I may call them such That she, at least, should shed, If Love should ever say as much. Upon her lover dead,

By him it will be better said, indeed ; Some tears of due respect. And them who his advices will not heed, The rosy god, of Cytherea born,

Scourge fearfully will he, She ever treated with the deepest scorn : As you shall shortly see. Contemning him, his laws, and means of damage, She drew her tram to dance around his image, blooming miracle of yore A When, woful to relate, Despised his godship's sovereign power ; The statue fell, and crush' d her with its weight They call'd her name Alcimadure. A voice forth issued from a cloud, haughty creature, fierce and wild, A And echo bore the words aloud She sported, Nature's tameless child. Throughout the air wide spread, Rough paths her wayward feet would lead " Let all now love—the insensible is dead." To darkest glens of mossy trees ; Meanwhile, down to the Stygian tide she would dance on daisied mead, Or The shade of Daphnis hied, With nought of law but her caprice. And quaked and wonder'd there to meet A fairer could not be, The maid, a ghostess, at his feet. crueller, than she. Nor All Erebus awaken' d wide, Still charming in her sternest mien, To hear that beauteous homicide E'en when her haughty look debarr'd, Beg pardon of the swain who died, What had she been to lover, in For being deaf to love confess'd, The fortress of her kind regard ! As was Ulysses to the prayer Daphnis, a high-born shepherd swain, Of Ajax, begging him to spare, Had loved this maiden to his bane. Or as was Dido's faithless guest. Not one regardful look or smile, Nor e'en a gracious word, the while, Believed the fierceness of his pain. O'erweai'ied with a suit so vain, His hope was but to die ; XXVII.—THE ARBITER, THE ALMONER, AND No power had he to fly. THE HERMIT. He sought, impell'd by dark despair, The portals of the cruel fair. Three saints, for their salvation jealous,

only listeners ! Alas I the winds his were Pursued, with hearts alike most zealous, The mistress gave no entrance there— By routes diverse, their common aim. entrance to the palace where, No All highways lead to Rome : the same Ingrate, against her natal day, Of heaven our rivals deeming true, She join'd the treasures sweet and gay Each chose alone his pathway to pursue. In garden or in wild-wood grown, Moved by the cares, delays, and crosses To blooming beauty all her own. Attach'd to suits by legal process, I hoped, he cried, One gave himself as judge, without reward, Before your eyes I should have died ; For earthly fortune having small regard. Since there arc laws, to legal strife * Madame de la Mesangere was the daughter of Madame himself for half his life. dc la Sabliere. Man damns

22i —— —— ——

Oil THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE. [book XII.

For half ?—Three-fourths ! —perhaps the whole ! Who but yourselves your wants should know ? The hope possess'd our umpire's soul, To know one's self, is, here below, That on his plan he should be able The first command of the Supreme.

To cure this vice detestable. Have you obey'd, among the bustling throngs ?

The second chose the hospitals. Such knowledge to tranquillity belongs ;

I give him praise : to solace pain Elsewhere to seek were fallacy extreme. Is charity not spent in vain, Disturb the water—do you see your face ? While men in part are animals. See we ourselves within a troubled breast ? The sick—for things went then as now they go A murky cloud in such a case,

Gave trouble to the almoner, I trow. Though once it were a crystal vase ! Impatient, sour, complaining ever, But, brothers, let it simply rest, As rack'd by rheum, or parch'd with fever, And each shall see his features there impress'd.

His favourites are such and such ; For inward thought a desert home is best. With them he watches over-much, die, And lets us they say, Such was the hermit's answer brief ; Such sore complaints from day to day And, happily, it gain'd belief. Were nought to those that did await The reconciler of debate. But business, still, from life must not be stricken.

His judgments suited neither side ; Since men will doubtless sue at law, and sicken, Forsooth, in either party's view, Physicians there must be, and advocates, He never held the balance true, Whereof, thank God, no lack the world awaits, But swerved in every cause he tried. While wealth and honours are the well-known baits. Yet, in the stream of common wants when thrown, Discouraged by such speech, the arbiter What busy mortal but forgets his own 1 Betook himself to see the almoner. 0, you who give the public all your care, As both received but murmurs for their fees, Be it as judge, or prince, or minister, They both retired, in not the best of moods, Disturb'd by countless accidents most sinister, To break their troubles to the silent woods, By adverse gales abased, debased by fair, And hold communion with the ancient trees. Yourself you never see, nor see you aught. There, underneath a rugged mountain, Comes there a moment's rest for serious thought, Beside a clear and silent fountain, There comes a flatterer too, and brings it all to

A place revered by winds, to sun unknown, This lesson seals our varied page : [nought.

They found the other saint, who lived alone. 0, may it teach from age to age ! Forthwith they ask'd his sage advice. To kings I give it, to the wise propose. labours Your own, he answer'd, must suffice ; Where could my better close?

226 INDEX,

A. Cat and Monkey, ix. 17. Abdera, People of, and Democritus. vin. Cat and Old Rat. nr. 18. Acorn and Pumpkin, ix. 4. Cat and Rat. vrrr. 22. iEsop and the Will. u. 20. Cat and Two Sparrows, xn. 2. Adder and Man. x. 2. Cat, Cockerel, and Mouse, vr. 5. Adventurers and Talisman, x. 14. Cat, Eagie, and Wild Sow. nr. 6* Advantage of Knowledge, vm. 19. Cat metamorphosed to a Woman, a. 18. Aleimadure and Daphnis. xu. 26. Cat, Old, and Young Mouse, xir. 5. Amaranth and Thyrsis. vnr. 13. Cat, Weasel, and Little Rabbit, vrr. 16. Animal in the Moon. vir. 18. Charlatan, vi. 19. Animals, Monkey, and Fox. vi. 6. Child and Fortune, v. 11. Animals sending Tribute, &c. iv. 12. Coach and Fly. vn. 9. Animals sick of the Plague, vn. 1. Cobbler and Financier, vrrr. 2. Ant and ii. 21. Dove. Cock and Fox. n. ] 5.

Ant and Fly. iv. 3, Cock and Pearl, i. 20. Ant and Grasshopper, i. 1. Cockerel, Cat, and Mouse, vr. 5. Ape of Jupiter and Elephant, xn. 21. Cocks and Partridge, x. 8. Arbiter, Almoner, and Hermit, xir. 27- Cocks, The Two. vn. 13. Ass and Dog. vin. 1J. Combat of Rats and Weasels, iv. 6. Ass and his Masters, vi. 11. Companions of Ulysses, xn. 1. Ass and Horse, vi. 16. Cook and Swan, in, 12. Ass and Lion, hunting, n. 19. Cormorant and Fishes, x. 4. Ass and Little Dog. iv. 5. Council held by Rats. n. 2- Ass and Old Man. vr. 8. Countryman and Serpent, vi. 13. Ass and Thieves, i. 13. Court of the Lion. vrr. 7- Ass bearing Relics, v. 14. Curate and Corpse, vn. 11 Ass, Dead, and Two Dogs. vnr. 25. Ass in Lion's Skin. v. 21. D. Ass loaded with Sponges, &c. n. 10. Dairy Woman and Pot of Milk. 10. Ass, Miller, and Son. in. 1. Daphnis and Aleimadure. xn. 26. Astrologer who fell into a Well. n. 13. Death and the Dying, vin. 1. Death and the Unfortunate, i. 15. Death and Wood- Chopper, i. 16. Bat and Two Weasels, n. 5. Democritus and the People of Abdera. vm. 26. Bat, Bush, and Duck. xn. 7- Depositary, The Faithless, ix. 1. Bear and Gardener, vnr. 10. Discord, vr. 20. Bear and Lioness, x. 13. Doctors, v. 12. Bear and Two Companions, v. 20. Dog and Ass. vrrr. 17.

Beetle and Eagle, it. 8. Dog and Wolf. i. 5. Belly and Members, in. 2. Dog carrying his Master's Dinner, vin. 7- Birds, Little, and Swallow, i. 8. Dog, Farmer, and Fox. xr. 3. Bird wounded by an Arrow, ir. 6. Dog, Lean, and Wolf. rx. 10. Bitch and her Friend, n. 7- Dog, Little, and Ass. iv. 5. Boreas and Phoebus, vr. 3. Dogs, The Two, and Dead Ass. vnt. 25. Boy and Schoolmaster, i. 19. Dog who lost the Substance for the Shadow. Bulls and Frog. u. 4. vi. 17- Burier and his Comrade, x. 5. Dog with his Ears cut off. x. 9. Bust and Fox. iv. 14. Dolphin and Monkey, rv. 7. Dove and Ant. n. 12. Doves, The Two. ix. 2. Camel and Floating Sticks, iv. 10. Duck, Bat, and Bush. xir. 7. Candle, ix. 12. Ducks and Tortoise, x. 3. Capon and Falcon, vm. 21. Dragon of Many Heads, &c. 1. 12. Cartman in the Mire. VI. 18. Dream of the Mogul, xl. 4. Cat and Fox. ix. 14. Drunkard and his Wife. in. 7. \

98 INDEX.

Gods wishing to educate a Son of Jupiter, xt. 2. E. Gout and Spider, in. 8. Grapes and Fox. m. 11. Eagle and Beetle, n. 8. Grasshopper Ant. i. 1. Eagle and Magpie, xii. 11. and Eagle and Owl. v. 18. Eagle and Raven, n. 1G. Eagle, Wild Sow., and Cat. in. 6. Hard to suit, Against the. n. 1. Ears of the Hare. v. 4. Hare and Frogs, n. 14. Education, vin. 24. Hare and Partridge, v. 17. Elephant and Ape of Jupiter, xn. 21, Hare and Tortoise, vi. 10. Elephant and Rat. vm. 15. Hare, Ears of the. v. 4. English Fox. xir. 23. Hawk, Fowler, and Lark. vi. 15. Eye of the Master, iv. 21. Head and Tail of the Serpent, vu. 17- Hedgehog, Fox, and Flies, xn. 13. F. Heifer, Sheep, Goat, and Lion. i. 6. Hen with Golden Eggs. v. 13. Falcon and Capon, vm. 21. Hermit, Arbiter, and Almoner, xn. 27- Falconer, King, and Kite. xn. 12. Heron, vu. 4. Farmer and Jupiter, vi. 4. Hog, Goat, and Sheep, vm. 12. Farmer, Dog, and Fox. xi. 3. Hornets and Honey-Bees. i. 21. File and Serpent, v. 16. Horoscope, vm. 16. Financier and Cobhler. vm. 2. Horse and Ass. vi. 16. Fishes and Cormorant, x. 4. Horse and Stag. rv. 13. Fishes and Joker, -vm. 8. Horse and Wolf. v. 8. Fishes and Shepherd who played the Flute, x. 11. Horse, Fox, and Wolf. xn. 17. Fish, Little, and Fisher, v. 3. Hunter and Lion. vi. 2. Flea and Man. vm. 5. Hunter and Wolf. vm. 27- Fly and Ant. iv. 3. Husband, Wife, and Robber, ix. 15. Fly and Coach, vrr. 9. Folly and Love. xn. 14. I. Fool and Sage. xn. 22.

Fool who sold Wisdom, ix. 8. Idol of Wood and Man. it. 3. Forest and Woodman, xir. 16. Ill-Married, vu. 2. Fortune and the Young Child, v. 11. Image and Man. i. 11. Fortune, Ingratitude towards, vu. 14. J. Fortune- Tellers, vu. 15. Fortune, The Man who ran after, &e. vu. 12 Jay and Peacocks, iv. 9. Fowler, Hawk, and Lark. vi. 15. Joker and Fishes, vm. 8. Fox and Bust, iv. 14. Juno and Peacock, n. 1?. Fox and Cat. ix. 14. Jupiter and Farmer, vi. 4. Fox and Cock. u. 15. Jupiter and Thunders, vm. 20. 13. Fox and Goat. in. 5. Jupiter and Traveller, ix. Fox and Grapes, in. 11. K. Fox and Raven, i. 2. Fox and Sick Lion. vi. 14. Kid, Goat, and Wolf. iv. 15.

Fox and Stork, i. 18. King and Shepherd, x. 10. Fox and Turkeys, xn. 18. King, Son, and Two Parrots, x. 12. Fox and Wolf. xi. 6. xn. 9. King's Son, Merchant, Gentleman, and Shep- Fox and Wolf before the Monkey, n. 3. herd, x. 16. Fox, English, xn. 23. Kite and Nightingale, ix. 18. Fox, Flies, and Hedgehog, xn. 13. Kite, King, and Falconer, xn. 12. Fox, Lion, and Wolf. vm. 3. Fox, Monkey, and Animals, vi. 6.

Fox, Two Rats, Egg. x. 1. and Labourer and his Sons. r. 9. Fox with his Tail cut off. v. 5. Lamb and Wolf. 1. 10. Fox, Wolf, and Horse, xn. 17. . Lark and her Young Ones, &c. iv. 22 Friends, The Two. vm. 11. Lark, Fowler, and Hawk. vi. 15. Frog and Rat. iv. 11. League of the Rats. xn. 25. Frog and Two Bulls, n. 4. Leopard and Monkey, ix. 3. Frogs and Hare. n. 14. Lion. xr. 1. Frogs and Sun. vi. 12. xn. 24. Lion and Ass hunting, n. 19. * Frogs asking a King. in. 4. Lion and Gnat. n. 9. Frog who would he as big as the Ox. i. 3. Lion and Hunter, vi. 2. Funeral of the Lioness, vm. 14. Lion and Rat. 11. 11. Lion and Shepherd, vi 1. G. Lion beaten by Man. in. 10. Gardener and Bear. tiii. 10. Lion, Court of The. vn. 7- Gardener and Lord. iv. 4. Lioness and Bear. x. 13. Gardener, Pedant, and School-hoy. ix. 5. Lioness, Funeral of The. vm. 14. Gazelle, Raven, Tortoise, and Rat. xn. 15. Lion going to War. v. 19. Gentleman, Merchant* King's Son, and Shep- Lion grown old. in. 14. herd, x. 16. Lion in Love. iv. 1. Gnat and Lion. n. 9. Lion, Monkey, and two Asses, xi. 4. Goat and Fox. m. 5. Lion, The Sick, and Fox. vi. 14. Goat, Heifer, Sheep, and Lion. i. 6. Lion, Wolf, and Fox. vm. 3. Goat, Hog, and Sheep, vm. 12. Litigants and Oyster, ix. 9. Goat, Kid, and Wolf. nr. 15. Lobster and Daughter, xn. 10. Goats, The Two. xn. 4. Love and Folly, xn. 14.

228

J. INDEX. 99

m: R.

Magpie and Eagle, xii. 11. Rabbit, Cat, and Weasel, vn. 16. Maid, vii. 5. Rabbits, x. 15. Man and Adder, x. 2. Rat and Cat. vm. 22. Man and Flea. vm. 5. Rat and Elephant, vm. 15.

Man and Image, i. 11. Rat and Frog. iv. 11.

Man and Two Mistresses. I. 17- Rat and Lion. n. 11. Man and Wooden God. iy. 8. Rat and Oyster, vni. 9.

Man beating a Lion. in. 20. Rat, City, and Country Rat. i. 9. Man who ran after Fortune, &c. vrr. 12. Rat, Old, and Cat. m. 18. Members and Belly, in. 2. Rat retired from the World, vn. 3. Men, The Two, and Treasure, ix. 16. Rats and Weasels, iv. 6.

Merchant and Pashaw. vm. 1 8. Rats, Council of. n. 2. Merchant, Shepherd, Gentleman, and King's Rats, League of. xn. 25. Son. x. 16. Rats, Fox, and Egg. x. 1. Mercury and Woodman, v. 1. Raven and Eagle, n. 16.

Miller, Son, and Ass. in. 1. Raven and Fox. i. 2. Mice and Owl. xi. 9. Raven, Tortoise, Gazelle, and Rat. xn. 13.

Miser and Monkey, xn. 3. Reed and Oak. i. 22, Miser who had lost his Treasure, iv. 20. River and Torrent, vm. 23. Mogul's Dream, xi. 4. Robber, Husband, and Wife. ix. 15. Monkey, xn. 19. Monkey and Cat. ix. 17. Monkey and Dolphin, iv. 7- S. Monkey and Leopard, ix. 3. Sage and Fool. xn. 22. Monkey, Fox, and Animals. VI. 6. Satyr and Traveller, v. 7« Monkey judging Wolf and Fox. n. 3. Schoolboy, Pedant, and Gardener, ix. 5. Monkey, Lion, and two Asses, xi. 5. Schoolmaster and Boy. i. 19. Mother, Child, and Wolf. iv. 16. Sculptor and Statue of Jupiter, ix. 6. Mountain in Labour, v. 10. Scythian Philosopher, xn. 20. Mouse, Cockerel, and Cat. vi. 5. Serpent and Countryman, vi. 13. Mouse metamorphosed into a Maid. ix. 7« Serpent and File. v. 16. Mouse, Young, and Cat. xn. 5. Serpent, Head and Tail of. vn. 17. Mule boasting of his Genealogy, vi. 7. Servants, Two, and Old Woman, v. C. Mules, The Two. i. 4. Sheep and Wolves, m. 13.

Sheep, Heifer, Goat, and Lion. i. 6. N. Sheep, Hog, and Goat. vni. 12. Shepherd and his Flock, ix. 19. Nightingale and Kite. ix. 13 Shepherd and King. x. 10. Nothing too Much. ix. 11. Shepherd and Lion. VI. 1. Shepherd and Sea. iv. 2. 0. Shepherd and Wolf. in. 3. Shepherd, Merchant, Gentlemen, and King's Oak and Reed. i. 22. Son. x. 16. Old Cat and Young Mouse, xn. 5. Shepherds and Wolf. x. 6. Old Man and Ass. vi. 8. Shepherd who played the Flute, and Fishes. Old Man and his Sons. iv. 18. x. 11. Old Man and Three Young Ones. xi. 8. Simonides preserved by the Gods. i. 14. Old Woman and Two Servants, v. 6. Socrates, Saying of. iv. 17. Oracle and The Impious, iv. 19. Sparrows and Cat. xn. 2. Owl and Eagle, v. 18. Spider and Gout. in. 8. Owl and Mice. xr. 9. Spider and Swallow, x. 7. Oyster and Litigants, ix. 9. Stag and Horse, iv. 13. Oyster and Rat. vm. 9. Stag and Vine. v. 15.

Stag seeing Himself in the Water, vj. 9. P. Stag, Sick. xn. 6. Stork and Fox. I. 18. Parrots, The Two, King, and Son. x. 12. Stork and Wolf. in. 9. Partridge and Cocks, x. 8. Sun and Frogs, vi. 12. xn. 24. Partridge and Hare. v. 17- Swallow and Little Birds. I. 8. Pashaw and Merchant, vm. 18. Swallow and Spider, x. 9. Peacock complaining to Juno. II. 17 Swan and Cook. m. 12. Peacocks and Jay. iv. 9.

Pearl and Cock. i. 20. Peasant of the Danube, xi. 7- T. Pedant, Schoolboy, and Gardener. IX. 5. Philomel and Progne. in. 15. Talisman and Two Adventurers, x. 14.

Phoebus and Boreas, vi. 3. Thieves and Ass. i. 13. Pigeons and Vultures, vn. 8 Thyrsis and Amaranth, vni. 13. Pigeons, The Two. ix. 2. Tortoise and Hare. vi. 10. Pot of Earth and of Iron. V. 2. Tortoise and two Ducks, x. 3. Power of Fables, vm. 4. Tortoise, Gazelle, Raven, and Rat. xn. 16. Pumpkin and Acorn, ix. 4 Torrent and River, vm. 23. Traveller and Jupiter, ix. 13. Traveller and Satyr, v. 1. Q. Treasure and Two Men. ix. ] 6. Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats, &c. xn. 8. Turkeys and Fox. xn. 18.

229

L0FC. J 00 INDEX.

Wolf and Dog. i. 5. u. Wolf and Fox. xn. 9. Wolf and Fox at the Well. xi. 6. Ulysses, Companions of. xn. 1. Wolf and Fox before the Monkey. ii. 3. Unfortunate and Death, i. 15. Wolf and Horse, v. 8. Wolf and Hunter, vin. 27. V. Wolf and Lamb, l 10. Vine and Stag. v. 15. Wolf and Lean Dog. ix. 10. Vultures and Pigeons, vn. 8. Wolf and Shepherds, x. 6. Wolf and Stork, in. 9. w. Wolf, Fox, and Horse, xn. 17. Wallet, i. 7 Wolf, Goat, and Kid. iv. 15. Wax Candle, ix. 12. Wolf, Lion, and Fox. vni. 3. Weasel, Cat, and Rabbit, vn. 16. Wolf, Mother, and Child, it. 16. Weasel in a Granary, in. 17. Wolf turned Shepherd, in. 3. Weasels and Bat. n. 5. Wolves and Sheep, in. 13. Weasels and Rats. iv. 6. Woman drowned, ni. 16. Widow, The Young, vi. 21. Women and the Secret, vni. 6.

Wild Sow, Eagle, and Cat. m. 6. Wood-Chopper and Death, i. 16. Will explained by iEsop. n. 20. Woodman and Forest, xn. 16.

Wishes, vn. 6. Woodman and Mercury, v. 1.

THE END.

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