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CDEXRIGHT  DEPOSIT. 


THE    WOLF    AND     THE    STORK. 


FABLES  OF  LA  FONTAINE. 


WITH  ILL  USTBATI0N8 


FROM  DESIGNS  BY 


J.   J.   GRAiTDVILLE. 


fcySife 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH 


By   ELIZTTR   WEIGHT,   ja, 


£0pyri 


NEW  YORK  : 

JAMES    MILLER,    PUBLISHER, 

779   Broadway. 


TQ  i?" 
EsVYt 

|871 


Copyright, 

1879, 

By  James  Miller. 


^s 


PREFACE 


©| 
0(H 


§j_ 


•g  |MM@@|  UMAN  nature,  when  fresh  from  the 


9 
9 


I©  <3 

I©®  89 


©^  hand  of  God,  was  full  of  poetry.  Its 
sociality  could  not  be  pent  within 
the  bounds  of  the  actual.  To  the 
lower  inhabitants  of  air,  earth,  and 
^j|j  water,  —  and  even  to  those  elements 
m@m®  m®m®.  themselves,  in  all  their  parts  and 
forms,  —  it  gave  speech  and  reason.  The  skies  it  peopled 
with  beings,  on  the  noblest  model  of  which  it  could  have 
any  conception  —  to  wit,  its  own.  The  intercourse  of  these 
beings,  thus  created  and  endowed,  —  from  the  deity  kindled 
into  immortality  by  the  imagination,  to  the  clod  personified 
for  the  moment,  —  gratified  one  of  its  strongest  propensities  ; 
for  man  may  well  enough  be  defined  as  the  historical  ani- 
mal.    The  faculty  which,  in  after  ages,  was  to  chronicle 


ii  FABLE  AND   THE   FABULISTS. 

the  realities  developed  by  time,  had  at  first  no  employment 
out  to  place  on  record  the  productions  of  the  imagination. 
Hence,  fable  blossomed  and  ripened  in  the  remotest  an- 
tiquity. We  see  it  mingling  itself  with  the  primeval  history 
of  all  nations.  It  is  not  improbable  that  many  of  the 
narratives  which  have  been  preserved  for  us,  by  the  bark 
or  parchment  of  the  first  rude  histories,  as  serious  matten. 
of  fact,  were  originally  apologues,  or  parables,  invented  to 
give  power  and  wings  to  moral  lessons,  and  afterwards 
modified,  in  their  passage  from  mouth  to  mouth,  by  the 
well-known  magic  of  credulity.  The  most  ancient  poets 
graced  their  productions  with  apologues.  Hesiod's  fable 
of  the  Hawk  and  the  Nightingale  is  an  instance.  The 
fable  or  parable  was  anciently,  as  it  is  even  now,  a  favorite 
weapon  of  the  most  successful  orators.  When  Jotham 
would  show  the  Shechemites  the  folly  of  their  ingratitude, 
he  uttered  the  fable  of  the  Fig-Tree,  the  Olive,  the  Vine, 
and  the  Bramble.  When  the  prophet  Nathan  would 
oblige  David  to  pass  a  sentence  of  condemnation  upon 
himself  in  the  matter  of  Uriah,  he  brought  before  him 
the  apologue  of  the  rich  man  who,  having  many  sheep, 
took  away  that  of  the  poor  man  who  had  but  one.  When 
Joash,  the  king  of  Israel,  would  rebuke  the  vanity  of 
Amaziah,  the  king  of  Judah,  he  referred  him  to  the  fable 
of  the  Thistle  and  the  Cedar.  Our  blessed  Savior,  the 
best  of  all  teachers,  was  remarkable  for  his  constant  use 
of  parables,  which  are  but  fables  —  we  speak  it  with  reve- 
rence—  adapted  to  the  gravity  of  the  subjects  on  which 
ne  discoursed.  And,  in  profane  history,  we  read  that 
Stesichorus  put  the  Himerians  on  their  guard  against  the 
yranny  of  Phalaris  by  the  fable  of  the  Horse  and  the 
Stair-      Cyrus,  for  the  instruction  of  kings,  told  the  story 


FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS.  iii 

af  the  fisher  obliged  to  use  his  nets  to  take  the  fish  that 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  sound  of  his  flute.  Menenius 
Agrippa,  wishing  to  bring  back  the  mutinous  Roman  peo- 
ple from  Mount  Sacer,  ended  his  harangue  with  the  fable 
of  the  Belly  and  the  Members.  A  Ligurian,  in  order  to 
dissuade  King  Comanus  from  yielding  to  the  Phocians  a 
portion  of  his  territory  as  the  site  of  Marseilles,  introduced 
into  his  discourse  the  story  of  the  bitch  that  borrowed 
a  kennel  in  which  to  bring  forth  her  young,  but,  when 
they  were  sufficiently  grown,  refused  to  give  it  up. 

In  all  these  instances,  we  see  that  fable  was  a  mere 
auxiliary  of  discourse  —  an  implement  of  the  orator.  Such, 
probably,  was  the  origin  of  the  apologues  which  now  form 
the  bulk  of  the  most  popular  collections.  iEsop,  who  lived 
about  six  hundred  years  before  Christ,  so  far  as  we  can 
reach  the  reality  of  his  life,  was  an  orator  who  wielded 
the  apologue  with  remarkable  skill.  From  a  servile  condi- 
tion, he  rose,  by  the  force  of  his  genius,  to  be  the  counsellor 
of  kings  and  states.  His  wisdom  was  in  demand  far  and 
wide,  and  on  the  most  important  occasions.  The  pithy 
apologues  which  fell  from  his  lips,  which,  like  the  rules 
of  arithmetic,  solved  the  difficult  problems  of  human  con- 
duct constantly  presented  to  him,  were  remembered  when 
the  speeches  that  contained  them  were  forgotten.  He 
seems  to  have  written  nothing  himself;  but  it  was  not 
long  before  the  gems  which  he  scattered  began  to  be 
gathered  up  in  collections,  as  a  distinct  species  of  literature. 
The  great  and  good  Socrates  employed  himself,  while  in 
prison,  in  turning  the  fables  of  iEsop  into  verse.  Though 
but  a  few  fragments  of  his  composition  have  come  down 
to  us,  he  may,  perhaps,  be  regarded  as  the  father  of  fable, 
considered   as   a   distinct    art.      Induced   by   his    example. 


iv  FABLE    AND   THE   FABULISTS 

many  Greek  poets  and  philosonhers  tried  their  hands  in  it. 
Archilocus,  Alcaeus,  Aristotle,  Plato,  Diodorus,  Plutarch, 
and  Lucian,  have  left  us  specimens.  Collections  of  fables 
bearing  the  name  of  iEsop  became  current  in  the  Greek 
language.  It  was  not,  however,  till  the  year  1447,  that 
the  large  collection  which  now  bears  his  name  was  put 
forth  in  Greek  prose  by  Planudes,  a  monk  of  Constantino- 
ple. This  man  turned  the  life  of  iEsop  itself  into  a  fable ; 
and  La  Fontaine  did  it  the  honor  to  translate  it  as  a  preface 
to  his  own  collection.  Though  burdened  with  insufferable 
puerilities,  it  is  not  without  the  moral  that  a  rude  and 
deformed  exterior  may  conceal  both  wit  and  worth. 

The  collection  of  fables  in  Greek  verse  by  Babrias 
was  exceedingly  popular  among  the  Romans.  Jt  was  the 
favorite  book  of  the  Emperor  Julian.  Only  six  of  these 
fables,  and  a  few  fragments,  remain  ;  but  they  are  sufficient 
to  show  that  their  author  possessed  all  the  graces  of  style 
which  befit  the  apologue.  Some  critics  place  him  in  the 
Augustan  age ;  others  make  him  contemporary  with  Mos- 
chus.  His  work  was  versified  in  Latin,  at  the  instance 
of  Seneca ;  and  Quinctilian  refers  to  it  as  a  reading-book 
for  boys.  Thus,  at  all  times,  these  playful  fictions  have 
been  considered  fit  lessons  for  children,  as  well  as  for  men, 
who  are  often  but  grown-up  children.  So  popular  were 
the  fables  of  Babrias  and  their  Latin  translation,  during 
the  Roman  empire,  that  the  work  of  Phaedrus  was  hardly 
noticed.  The  latter  was  a  freedman  of  Augustus,  and  wrote 
in  the  reign  of  Tiberius.  His  verse  stands  almost  unrivalled 
for  its  exquisite  elegance  and  compactness ;  and  posterity 
has  abundantly  avenged  him  for  the  neglect  of  contempo- 
raries. La  Fontaine  is  perhaps  more  indebted  to  Phaedrus 
than  to  any  other  of  his  predecessors ;   and,  especially  in 


FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS.  V 

the  first  six  books,  his  style  has  much  of  the  same  curious 
condensation.  When  the  seat  of  the  empire  was  transferred 
to  Byzantium,  the  Greek  language  took  precedence  of  the 
Latin  ;  and  the  rhetorician  Aphtonius  wrote  forty  fables  in 
Greek  prose,  which  became  popular.  Besides  these  col- 
lections among  the  Romans,  we  find  apologues  scattered 
through  the  writings  of  their  best  poets  and  historians,  and 
embalmed  in  those  specimens  of  their  oratory  which  have 
eome  down  to  us. 

The  apologues  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  were  brief, 
pithy,  and  epigrammatic,  and  their  collections  were  without 
any  principle  of  connection.  But,  at  the  same  time, 
though  probably  unknown  to  them,  the  same  species  of 
literature  was  flourishing  elsewhere  under  a  somewhat  dif- 
ferent form.  It  is  made  a  question,  whether  iEsop,  through 
the  Assyrians,  with  whom  the  Phrygians  had  commercial 
relations,  did  not  either  borrow  his  art  from  the  Orientals, 
or  lend  it  to  them.  This  disputed  subject  must  be  left  to 
those  who  have  a  taste  for  such  inquiries.  Certain  it  is, 
however,  that  fable  flourished  very  anciently  with  the  peo- 
ple whose  faith  embraces  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis. 
Among  the  Hindoos,  there  are  two  very  ancient  collections 
of  fables,  which  differ  from  those  which  we  have  already 
mentioned,  in  having  a  principle  of  connection  throughout. 
They  are,  in  fact,  extended  romances,  or  dramas,  in  which 
all  sorts  of  creatures  are  introduced  as  actors,  and  in  which 
there  is  a  development  of  sentiment  and  passion  as  well 
as  of  moral  truth,  the  whole  being  wrought  into  a  system 
of  morals  particularly  adapted  to  the  use  of  those  called 
to  govern.  One  of  these  works  is  called  the  Pontcha 
Tantra,  which  signifies  "  Five  Books,"  or  Pentateuch.  It 
is  written  in   prose.     The  other  is  called  the  Hitopathsa, 


vi  FABLE  AND   THE   FABULISTS. 

or  "  Friendly  Instruction,"  and  is  written  in  verse.  Both 
are  in  the  ancient  Sanscrit  language,  and  bear  the  name 
of  a  Brarain,  Vishnoo  Sarmah,  as  the  author.  Sir  William 
Jones,  who  is  inclined  to  make  this  author  the  true  iEsop 
of  the  world,  and  to  doubt  the  existence  of  the  Phrygian, 
gives  him  the  preference  to  all  other  fabulists,  both  in 
regard  to  matter  and  manner.  He  has  left  a  prose  trans- 
lation of  the  Hitopadesa,  which,  though  it  may  not  fully 
sustain  his  enthusiastic  preference,  shows  it  not  to  be  entire- 
ly groundless.  We  give  a  sample  of  it,  and  select  a  fable 
which  La  Fontaine  has  served  up  as  the  twenty-seventh 
of  his  eighth  book.  It  should  be  understood  that  the  fable, 
with  the  moral  reflections  which  accompany  it,  is  taken 
from  the  speech  of  one  animal  to  another. 

"  Frugality  should  ever  be  practised,  but  not  excessive  parsi- 
mony ;  for  see  how  a  miser  was  killed  by  a  bow  drawn  by 
himself!" 

"  How  was  that  ?  "  said  Hiranyaca. 

"In  the  country  of  Calyanacataca,"  said  Menthara,  "lived  a 
mighty  hunter,  named  Bhairaza,  or  Terrible.  One  day  he  went, 
in  search  of  game,  into  a  forest  on  the  mountains  Vindhya ;  when, 
having  slain  a  fawn,  and  taken  it  up,  he  perceived  a  boar  of 
tremendous  size ;  ho  therefore  threw  the  fawn  on  the  ground, 
and  wounded  the  boar  with  an  arrow;  the  beast,  horribly  roaring, 
rushed  upon  him,  and  wounded  him  desperately,  so  that  he  fell, 
like  a  tree  stricken  with  an  axe. 

"In  the  mean  while,  a  jackal,  named  Lougery,  was  roving  in 
search  of  food;  and,  having  perceived  the  fawn,  the  hunter,  and 
the  boar,  all  three  dead,  he  said  to  himself,  <  What  a  noble  pro- 
vision is  here  made  for  me!' 

"As  the  pains  of  men  assail  them  unexpectedly,  so  their 
pleasures  come  in  the  same  manner;  a  divine  power  strongly 
operates  in  both. 


FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS.  vii 

•"Be  it  so;  the  flesh  of  these  three  animals  will  sustain  me 
a  whole  month,  or  longer. 

" '  A  man  suffices  for  one  month ;  a  fawn  and  a  boar,  for  two ; 
a  snake,  for  a  whole  day;  and  then  I  will  devour  the  bowstring.' 
When  the  first  impulse  of  his  hunger  was  allayed,  he  said,  '  This 
flesh  is  not  yet  tender;  let  me  taste  the  twisted  string,  with  which 
the  horns  of  this  bow  are  joined.'  So  saying,  he  began  to  gnaw 
it;  but,  in  the  instant  when  he  had  cut  the  string,  the  severed  bow 
leaped  forcibly  up,  and  wounded  him  in  the  breast,  so  that  he 
departed  in  the  agonies  of  death.  This  I  meant,  when  I  cited  the 
verse,  Frugality  should  ever  be  practised,  &c." 

"What  thou  givest  to  distinguished  men,  and  what  thou  eatest 
every  day  —  that,  in  my  opinion,  is  thine  own  wealth:  whose  is 
the  remainder,  which  thou  hoardest?" 

Works  of  Sir  William  Jones,  Vol.  VI.,  p.  36. 

It  was  one  of  these  books  which  Chosroes,  the  king 
of  Persia,  caused  to  be  translated  from  the  Sanscrit  into 
the  ancient  language  of  bis  country,  in  the  sixth  century 
of  the  Christian  era,  sending  an  embassy  into  Hindostan 
expressly  for  that  purpose.  Of  the  Persian  book  a  trans- 
lation was  made,  in  the  time  of  the  Calif  Mansour,  in  the 
eighth  century,  into  Arabic.  This  Arabic  translation  it  is 
which  became  famous  under  the  title  of  "  The  Book  of 
Calila  and  Dimna,  or  the  Fables  of  Bidpa'i."  Calila  and 
Dimna  are  the  names  of  two  jackals  that  figure  in  the 
history,  and  Bidpa'i  is  one  of  the  principal  human  interlocu- 
tors, who  came  to  be  mistaken  for  the  author.  This  re- 
markable book  was  turned  into  verse  by  several  of  tlr 
Arabic  poets,  was  translated  into  Greek,  Hebrew,  Latin, 
modern  Persian,  and,  in  the  course  of  a  few  centuries, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  into  most  of  the  languages  of 
modern  Europe. 


viii  FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS. 

Forty-one  of  the  unadorned  and  disconnected  fables 
of  iEsop  were  also  translated  into  Arabic  at  a  period 
somewhat  more  recent  than  the  Hegira,  and  passed  by  the 
name  of  the  "  Fables  of  Lokman."  Their  want  of  poet- 
ical ornament  prevented  them  from  acquiring  much  popu- 
larity with  the  Arabians ;  but  they  became  well  known  in 
Europe,  as  furnishing  a  convenient  text-book  in  the  study 
of  Arabic. 

The  Hitopadesa,  the  fountain  of  poetic  fables,  with  its 
innumerable  translations  and  modifications,  seems  to  have 
had  the  greatest  charms  for  the  Orientals.  As  it  passed 
down  the  stream  of  time,  version  after  version,  the  orna- 
ment and  machinery  outgrew  the  moral  instruction,  till  it 
gave  birth,  at  last,  to  such  works  of  mere  amusement  as 
the  "  Thousand  and  One  lights." 

Fable  slept,  with  other  things,  in  the  dark  ages  of 
Europe.  Abridgments  took  the  place  of  the  large  collec- 
tions, and  probably  occasioned  the  entire  loss  of  some  of 
them.  As  literature  revived,  fable  was  resuscitated.  The 
crusades  had  brought  European  mind  in  contact  with  the 
Indian  works  which  we  have  already  described,  in  their 
Arabic  dress.  Translations  and  imitations  in  the  European 
tongues  were  speedily  multiplied.  The  "  Romance  of  the 
Fox,"  the  work  of  Perrot  de  Saint  Cloud,  one  of  the  most 
successful  of  these  imitations,  dates  back  to  the  thirteenth 
century.  It  found  its  way  into  most  of  the  northern  lan- 
guages, and  became  a  household  book.  It  undoubtedly 
had  great  influence  over  the  taste  of  succeeding  ages,  shed- 
ding upon  the  severe  aud  satirical  wit  of  the  Greek  and 
Roman  literature  the  rich,  mellow  light  of  Asiatic  poetry. 
The  poets  of  that  age  were  not  confined,  however,  to 
fables  from   the    Hindoo  scurce.      Marie  de   France,  also, 


FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS.  ix 

in  the  thirteenth  century,  versified  one  hundred  of  the  fables 
of  iEsop,  translating  from  an  English  collection,  which 
does  not  now  appear  to  be  extant.  Her  work  is  entitled 
the  Ysopet,  or  "  Little  jEsop."  Other  versions,  with  the 
same  title,  were  subsequently  written.  It  was  in  1447  that 
Planudes,  already  referred  to,  wrote  in  Greek  prose  a  col- 
lection of  fables,  prefacing  it  with  a  life  of  iEsop,  which, 
for  a  long  time,  passed  for  the  veritable  work  of  that 
ancient.  In  the  next  century,  Abstemius  wrote  two  hun- 
dred fables  in  Latin  prose,  partly  of  modern,  but  chiefly 
of  ancient  invention.  At  this  time,  the  vulgar  languages 
had  undergone  so  great  changes,  that  works  in  them  of 
two  or  three  centuries  old  could  not  be  understood,  and. 
consequently,  the  Latin  became  the  favorite  language  of 
authors.  Many  collections  of  fables  were  written  in  it, 
both  in  prose  and  verse.  By  the  art  of  printing,  these 
works  were  greatly  multiplied ;  and  again  the  poets  under- 
took the  task  of  translating  them  into  the  language  of  the 
people.  The  French  led  the  way  in  this  species  of  litera- 
ture, their  language  seeming  to  present  some  great  advan- 
tages for  it.  One  hundred  years  before  La  Fontaine, 
Corrozet,  Guillaume  Gueroult,  and  Philibeit  Hegemon,  had 
written  beautiful  fables  in  verse,  which  it  is  supposed  La 
Fontaine  must  have  read  and  profited  by,  although  they 
had  become  nearly  obsolete  in  his  time.  It  is  a  remarkable 
fact,  that  these  poetical  fables  should  so  soon  have  been 
forgotten.  It  was  soon  after  their  appearance  that  the 
languages  of  Europe  attained  their  full  development;  and, 
at  this  epoch,  prose  seems  to  have  been  universally  pre- 
ferred to  poetry.  So  strong  was  this  preference,  that 
Ogilby,  the  Scotch  fabulist,  who  had  written  a  collection 
of  fables  in  English  verse,  reduced  them  to  prose  on  the 


X  FABLE   AND   THE   FABULISTS. 

occasion  of  publishing  a  more  splendid  edition  in  1668. 
It  seems  to  have  been  the  settled  opinion  of  the  critics 
of  that  age,  as  it  has,  indeed,  been  stoutly  maintained  since, 
that  the  ornaments  of  poetry  only  impair  the  force  of  the 
fable  —  that  the  Muses,  by  becoming  the  handmaids  of 
old  iEsop,  part  with  their  own  dignity  without  conferring 
any.  on  him.  \La  Fontaine  has  made  such  an  opinion 
almost  heretical.  In  his  manner  there  is  a  perfect  origi- 
nality, and  an  immortality  every  way  equal  to  that  of  the 
matter  which  he  gathered  up  from  all  parts  of  the  great 
storehouse  of  human  experience.  His  fables  are  like  pure 
gold  enveloped  in  solid  rock-crystal.  In  English,  a  few 
of  the  fables  of  Gay,  of  Moore,  and  of  Cowper,  may  be 
compared  with  them  in  some  respects,  but  we  have  nothing 
resembling  them  as  a  whole.  Gay,  who  has  done  more 
than  any  other,  though  he  has  displayed  great  power  of 
invention,  and  has  given  his  verse  a  flow  worthy  of  his 
master,  Pope,  lias  yet  fallen  far  behind  La  Fontaine  in 
the  general  management  of  his  materials.  His  fables  are 
all  beautiful  poems,  but  few  of  them  are  beautiful  fables. 
His  animal  speakers  do  not  sufficiently  preserve  their  ani- 
mal characters.  It  is  quite  otherwise  with  La  Fontaine. 
His  beasts  are  made  most  nicely  to  observe  all  the  pro- 
prieties not  only  of  the  scene  in  which  they  are  called  to 
speak,  but  of  the  great  drama  into  which  they  are  from 
time  to  time  introduced.  His  work  constitutes  a  harmo- 
nious whole.  To  those  who  read  it  in  the  original,  it  is 
one  of  the  few  which  never  cloy  the  appetite.  As  in  the 
poetry  of  Burns,  you  are  apt  to  think  the  last  verse  you 
read  of  him  the  best.  V 


TO    MONSEIGNEUR 


THE    DAUPHIN 


sing  the  heroes  of  old  iEsop's  line. 
Whose    tale,   though    false  when 

strictly  we  define, 
Containeth  truths  it  were  not  ill 

to  teach. 


4  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

With  me  all  natures  use  the  gift  of  speech  ; 
Yea,  in  my  work,  the  very  fishes  preach, 
And  to  our  human  selves  their  sermons  suit. 
'  Fis  thus  to  come  at  man  I  use  the  brute. 

Son  of  a  Prince  the  favorite  of  the  skies, 
On  whom  the  world  entire  hath  fixed  its  eyes, 
Who  hence  shall  count  his  conquests  by  his  days, 
And  gather  from  the  proudest  lips  his  praise, 
A  louder  voice  than  mine  must  tell  in  song 
What  virtues  to  thy  kingly  line  belong. 
I  seek  thine  ear  to  gain  by  lighter  themes, 
Slight  pictures,  decked  in  magic  nature's  beams ; 
And  if  to  please  thee  shall  not  be  my  pride, 
Til  gain  at  least  the  praise  of  having  tried. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


TO    MADAM    D£    MONTESPAN. 


The  apologue  is  from  the  immortal  gods ; 
Or,  if  the  gift  of  man  it  is, 
Its  author  merits  apotheosis. 

Whoever  magic  genius  lauds 
Will  do  what  in  him  lies 

To  raise  this  art's  inventor  to  the  skies. 
It  hath  the  potence  of  a  charm, 
On  dulness  lays  a  conquering  arm, 
Subjects  the  mind  to  its  control, 
And  works  its  will  upon  the  soul. 
O  lady,  armed  with  equal  power, 
If  e'er,  within  celestial  bower, 
With  messmate  gods  reclined, 
My  muse  ambrosially  hath  dined, 
Lend  me  the  favor  of  a  smile 
On  this  her  playful  toil. 

If  you  support,  the  tooth  of  time  will  shun, 

And  let  my  work  the  envious  years  outrun. 
If  authors  would  themselves  survive, 
To  gain  your  suffrage  they  should  strive, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

On  you  my  verses  wait  to  get  their  worth ; 
To  you  my  beauties  all  will  owe  their  birth,  — 
For  beauties  you  will  recognize 
Invisible  to  other  eyes. 
Ah !  who  can  boast  a  taste  so  true, 
Of  beauty  or  of  grace, 
In  either  thought  or  face  ? 
I  or  words  and  looks  are  equal  charms  in  you. 
Upon  a  theme  so  sweet,  the  truth  to  tell, 
My  muse  would  gladly  dwell : 
But  this  employ  to  others  I  must  yield ;  — 
A  greater  master  claims  the  field. 
For  me,  fair  lady,  'twere  enough 
Your  name  should  be  my  wall  and  roof. 
Protect  henceforth  the  favored  book 
Through  which  for  second  life  I  look. 
In  your  auspicious  light, 
These  lines,  in  envy's  spite, 
Will  gain  the  glorious  meed, 
That  all  the  world  shall  read. 
?Tis  not  that  I  deserve  such  fame  ;  — 
I  only  ask  in  Fable's  name, 
(You  know  what  credit  that  should  claim  ;) 
And,  if  successfully  I  sue, 
A  fane  will  be  to  Fable  due,  — 
A  thing  I  would  not  build  —  except  for  you. 


\  v 


U*^I31L^    I*  a  13  81** 


THE   ANIMALS   SICK   OF   THE   PLAGUE. 


he  sorest  ill  that  Heaven  hath 
Sent  on  this  lower  world  in  wrath,  — - 
The  plague,  (to  call  it  by  its  name,) 
One  single  day  of  which 
Would  Pluto's  ferryman  enrich, — 
Waged  war  on  beasts,  both  wild  and  tame, 
SglStf  They  died  not  all,  but  all  were  sick; 
N^     No  hunting  now,  by  force  or  trick, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

To  save  what  might  so  soon  expire. 

No  food  exeited  their  desire  ; 

Nor  wolf  nor  fox  now  wateiied  to  slay 

The  innocent  and  tender  prey. 
The  turtles  fled  ; 

So  love  and  therefore  joy  were  dead. 

The  lion  council  held,  and  said : 

My  friends,  I  do  believe 

This  awful  scourge,  for  which  we  grieve, 

Is  for  our  sins  a  punishment 

Most  righteously  by  Heaven  sent. 

Let  us  our  guiltiest  beast  resign, 

A  sacrifice  to  wrath  divine. 

Perhaps  this  offering,  truly  small, 

May  gain  the  life  and  health  of  all. 

By  history  we  find  it  noted 

That  lives  have  been  just  so  devoted. 

Then  let  us  all  turn  eyes  within, 

And  ferret  out  the  hidden  sin. 

Himself  let  no  one  spare  nor  flattei , 

But  make  clean  conscience  in  the  matter. 
For  me,  my  appetite  has  played  the  glutton 
-  Too  much  and  often  upon  mutton. 

What  harm  had  e'er  my  victims  done  ? 
I  answer,  truly,  None. 

Perhaps,  sometimes,  by  hunger  pressed, 

Pve  eat  the  shepherd  with  the  rest. 

I  yield  myself,  if  need  there  be  ; 

And  jet  I  think,  in  equity, 
Each  should  confess  his  sins  with  me ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

For  laws  of  right  and  justice  cry, 
The  guiltiest  alone  should  die. 

Sire,  said  the  fox,  your  majesty 
Is  humbler  than  a  king  should  be, 
And  over-squeamish  in  the  case. 

What !  eating  stupid  sheep  a  crime  ? 

No,  never,  sire,  at  any  time. 
It  rather  was  an  act  of  grace, 
A  mark  of  honor  to  their  race 
And  as  to  shepherds,  one  may  swear, 

The  fate  your  majesty  describes, 
Is  recompense  less  full  than  fair 

For  such  usurpers  o'er  our  tribes. 

Thus  Renard  glibly  spoke, 
And  loud  applause  from  flatterers  broke. 
Of  neither  tiger,  boar,  nor  bear, 
Did  any  keen  inquirer  dare 
To  ask  for  crimes  of  high  degree  ; 

The  fighters,  biters,  scratchers,  all 
From  every  mortal  sin  were  free  ; 

The  very  dogs,  both  great  and  small, 
Were  saints,  as  far  as  dogs  could  be. 

The  ass,  confessing  in  his  turn, 
Thus  spoke  in  tones  of  deep  concern  :  — 
I  happened  through  a  mead  to  pass ; 
The  monks,  its  owners,  were  at  mass ; 
Keen  hunger,  leisure,  tender  grass, 
And  add  to  these  the  devil  too, 
All  tempted  me  the  deed  to  do. 


10 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


I  browsed -the  bigness  of  my  tongue; 
Since  truth  must  out,  I  own  it  wrong. 
On  this,  a  hue  and  cry  arose, 
As  if  the  beasts  were  all  his  foes  : 
A  wolf,  haranguing  lawyer-wise, 
Denounced  the  ass  for  sacrifice  — 
The  bald-pate,  scabby,  ragged  lout, 
By  whom  the  plague  had  come,  no  doubt. 
His  fault  was  judged  a  hanging  crime. 

What !  eat  another's  grass  ?     O  shame  ! 
The  noose  of  rope  and  death  sublime, 

For  that  offence,  were  all  too  tame  ! 

And  soon  poor  Grizzle  felt  the  same. 

Thus  human  courts  acquit  the  strong, 
And  doom  the  weak,  as  therefore  wrong. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  n 


THE   ILL-MARRIED. 

If  worth  and  beauty  always  wedded  were, 

To-rnorrow  I  would  seek  a  wife ; 
But  since  divorce  has* come  between  the  pair, 
Fair  forms  not  being  homes  of  souls  as  fair, 
Excuse  my  choice  of  single  life. 

Of  married  folks  a  multitude 

I've  seen,  but  still  have  never  rued 

Or  longed  to  quit  my  solitude. 

Yet  of  our  race  almost  four  quarters 

Brave  Hymen's  torch  —  intrepid  martyrs. 

Four  quarters,  also,  soon  repent  — 

Too  late,  however,  to  recant. 

My  tale  makes  one  of  these  poor  fellows, 
Who  sought  relief  from  marriage  vows, 
Send  back  again  his  tedious  spouse, 

Contentious,  covetous,  and  jealous. 
With  nothing  pleased  or  satisfied, 
This  restless,  comfort-killing  bride 
Some  fault  in  every  one  descried. 
Her  good  man  went  to  bed  too  soon, 


12  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Or  lay  in  bed  till  almost  noon. 
Too  cold,  too  hot,  —  too  black,  too  white, 
Were  on  her  tongue  from  morn  till  night. 
The  servants  mad  and  madder  grew ; 
The  husband  knew  not  what  to  do. 
'Twas,  Dear,  you  never  think  or  care ; 
And,  Dear,  that  price  we  cannot  bear ; 
And,  Dear,  you  never  stay  at  home ; 
And,  Dear,  I  wish  you  would  just  come  ;  — 
Till,  finally,  such  ceaseless  dearing 
Upon  her  husband's  patience  wearing, 
Back  to  her  sire's  he  sent  his  wife, 
To  taste  the  sweets  of  country  life  : 
To  dance  at  will  the  country  jigs, 
And  feed  the  turkeys,  geese,  and  pigs. 
In  course  of  time,  he  hoped  his  bride 
Might  have  her  temper  mollified ; 
Which  hope  he  duly  put  to  test. 

His  wife  recalled,  said  he, 
How  went  with  you  your  rural  rest, 

From  vexing  cares  and  fashions  free  ? 
Its  peace  and  quiet  did  you  gain,  — 
Its  innocence  without  a  stain  ? 

Enough  of  all,  said  she  ;   but  then, 

To  see  those  idle,  worthless  men 
Neglect  the  flocks,  it  gave  me  pain. 
I  told  them,  plainly,  what  1  thought, 
And  thus  their  hatred  quickly  bought ; 
For  which  I  do  not  care  —  not  J . 
Ah,  madam,  did  her  spouse  reply, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  13 

If  still  jour  temper  's  so  morose, 
And  tongue  so  virulent,  that  those 
Who  only  see  you  morn  and  night 
Are  quite  grown  weary  of  the  sight, 
What,  then,  must  be  your  servants'  case, 
Who  needs  must  see  you,  face  to  face, 

.  Throughout  the  day  ? 
And  what  must  be  the  harder  lot 
Of  him,  I  pray, 

Whose  days  and  nights 
With  you  must  be  by  marriage  rights  ? 
Return  you  to  your  father's  cot. 

If  I  recall  you  in  my  life, 

Or  even  wish  for  such  a  wife, 
Let  Heaven,  in  my  hereafter,  send 
Two  such,  to  tease  me,  without  end ! 


THE  RAT  RETIRED  FROM  THE   WORLD. 

The  sage  Levantines  have  a  tale 

About  a  rat  that  weary  grew 
Of  all  the  cares  which  life  assail, 

And  to  a  Holland  cheese  withdrew. 
His  solitude  was  there  profound, 
Extending  through  his  world  so  round. 
Our  hermit  lived  on  that  within  ; 
And  soon  his  industry  had  been 
With  claws  and  teeth  so  good, 
That,  in  his  novel  hermitage, 
He  had  in  store,  for  wants  of  age, 
i3oth  house  and  livelihood. 
What  more  could  any  rat  desire  ? 
He  grew  fair,  fat,  and  round. 
God's  blessings  thus  redound 
To  those  who  in  His  vows  retire. 
One  day  this  personage  devout, 
Whose  kindness  none  might  doubt, 
Was  asked,  by  certain  delegates 
That  came  from  Rat-United-States, 


I 


THE  RAT  RETIRED  PROM  THE  WORLD. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  ^       15 

For  some  small  aid,  for  they 
To  foreign  parts  were  on  their  way, 
For  succor  in  the  great  cat-war. 
Ratopolis  beleaguered  sore, 

Their  whole  republic  drained  and  poor, 
No  morsel  in  their  scrips  they  bore. 

Slight  boon  they  craved,  of  succor  sure 
In  days  at  utmost  three  or  four. 
My  friends,  the  hermit  said, 
To  worldly  things  I'm  dead. 
How  can  a  poor  recluse 
To  such  a  mission  be  of  use  ? 
What  can  he  do  but  pray 
That  God  will  aid  it  on  its  way  ? 
And  so,  my  friends,  it  is  my  prayer 
That  God  will  have  you  in  his  care. 
His  well-fed  saintship  said  no  more, 
But  in  their  faces  shut  the  door. 
What  think  you,  reader,  is  the  service 

For  which  1  use  this  niggard  rat  ? 
To  paint  a  monk  ?     No,  but  a  dervise. 

A  monk,  I  think,  however  fat, 

Must  be  more  bountiful  than  that. 


H 


THE  HERON. 


One  day,  —  no  matter  when  or  where,— 
A  long-legged  heron  chanced  to  fare 

By  a  certain  river's  brink, 

With  his  long,  sharp  beak 

Helved  on  his  slender  neck ;  — 
'Twas  a  fish-spear,  you  might  think. 
The  water  was  clear  and  still, 
The  carp  and  the  pike  there  at  will 

Pursued  their  silent  fun, 

Turning  up,  ever  and  anon, 

A  golden  side  to  the  sun. 
With  ease  might  the  heron  have  made 
Great  profits  in  his  fishing  trade. 
So  near  came  the  scaly  fry, 
They  might  be  caught  by  the  passer-by. 
But  he  thought  he  better  might 
Wait  for  a  better  appetite  — 
For  he  lived  by  rule,  and  could  not  eat, 
Except  at  his  hours,  the  best  of  meat. 
Anon  his  appetite  returned  once  more; 
So,  approaching  again  the  shore, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  17 

He  saw  some  tench  taking  their  leaps, 
Now  and  then,  from  their  lowest  deeps. 
With  as  dainty  a  taste  as  Horace's  rat, 
He  turned  away  from  such  food  as  that. 
What,  tench  for  a  heron  !  poh ! 
1  scorn  the  thought,  and  let  them  go. 
The  tench  refused,  there  came  a  gudgeon ; 
For  all  that,  said  the  bird,  I  budge  on. 
I'll  ne'er  open  my  beak,  if  the  gods  please, 
For  such  mean  little  fishes  as  these. 
He  did  it  for  less  ; 
For  it  came  to  pass, 
That  not  another  fish  could  he  see : 
And,  at  last,  so  hungry  was  he, 
That  he  thought  it  of  some  avail 
To  find  on  the  bank  a  single  snail. 
Such  is  the  sure  result 
Of  being  too  difficult. 
Would  you  be  strong  and  great, 
Learn  to  accommodate. 
Get  what  you  can,  and  trust  for  the  rest ; 
The  whole  is  oft  lost  by  seeking  the  best. 
Above  all  things,  beware  of  disdain, 
Where,  at  most,  you  have  little  to  gain. 
The  people  are  many  that  make 
Every  day  this  sad  mistake. 
'Tis  not  for  the  herons  I  put  this  case, 
Ye  featherless  people,  of  the  human  race. 
—  List  to  another  tale  as  true, 
And  you'll  hear  the  lesson  brought  home  to  you. 


) 


THE  MAID. 


A  certain  maid,  as  proud  as  fair, 

A  husband  thought  to  find 

Exactly  to  her  mind  — 
Well-formed  and  young,  genteel  in  air, 
Not  cold  nor  jealous  ;  —  mark  this  well. 
Whoe'er  would  wed  this  dainty  belle 
Must  have,  besides,  rank,  wealth,  and  wit, 
And  all  good  qualities  to  fit  — 
A  man  'twere  difficult  to  get. 
Kind  Fate,  however,  took  great  care 
To  grant,  if  possible,  her  prayer. 
There  came  a-wooing  men  of  note  ; 

The  maiden  thought  them  all, 

By  half,  too  mean  and  small. 
They  marry  me  !  the  creatures  dote :  — 

Alas  !  poor  souls  !  their  case  1  pity. 
(Here  mark  the  bearing  of  the  beauty.) 

Some  were  less  delicate  than  witty ; 
Some  had  the  nose  too  short  or  long ; 
In  others  something  else  was  wrong ; 
Which  made  each  in  the  maiden's  eyes 
An  altogether  worthless  prize. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  19 

Profound  contempt  is  aye  the  vice 
Which  springs  from  being  over-nice. 
Thus  were  the  great  dismissed  ;  and  then 
Came  offers  from  inferior  men. 
The  maid,  more  scornful  than  before, 

Took  credit  to  her  tender  heart 
For  giving  them  an  open  door. 

They  think  me  much  in  haste  to  part 
With  independence  !     God  be  thanked, 

My  lonely  nights  bring  no  regret ; 

Nor  shah  I  pine,  or  greatly  fret, 
Should  I  with  ancient  maids  be  ranked. 
Such  were  the  thoughts  that  pleased  the  fair : 
Age  made  them  only  thoughts  that  were. 
Adieu  to  lovers  :  —  passing  years 
Awaken  doubts  and  chilling  fears. 
Regret,  at  last,  brings  up  the  train. 
Day  after  day  she  sees,  with  pain, 
Some  smile  or  charm  take  final  flight, 
And  leave  the  features  of  a  "  fright," 
Then  came  a  hundred  sorts  of  paint ; 
But  still  no  trick,  nor  ruse,  nor  feint, 
Availed  to  hide  the  cause  of  grief, 
Or  bar  out  Time,  that  graceless  thief. 
A  house,  when  gone  to  wreck  and  ruin, 
May  be  repaired  and  made  a  new  one. 
Alas  !  for  ruins  of  the  face 
No  such  rebuilding  e'er  takes  place. 
Her  daintiness  now  changed  its  tune ; 
Her  mirror  told  her,  Marry  soon  ; 


20  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

So  did  a  certain  wish  within, 
With  more  of  secrecy  than  sin,  — 
A  Avish  that  dwells  with  even  prudes, 
Annihilating  solitudes. 
This  maiden's  choice  was  past  belief, 
She  soothing  down  her  restless  grief, 
And  smoothing  it  of  every  ripple 
By  marrying  a  cripple. 


THE   MULE  BOASTING   OF  HIS   GENEALOGY. 

A  prelate's  mule  of  noble  birth  was  proud, 
And  talked,  incessantly  ani  loud, 
Of  nothing  but  his  dam,  the  mare, 

Whose  mighty  deeds  by  him  recounted  were,  — 

This  had  she  done,  and  had  been  present  there,- - 
By  which  her  son  made  out  his  claim 
To  notice  on  the  scroll  of  Fame. 

Too  proud,  when  young,  to  bear  a  doctor's  pill ; 
When  old,  he  had  to  turn  a  mill. 
As  there  they  used  his  limbs  to  bind, 
His  sire,  the  ass,  was  brought  to  mind. 

Misfortune,  were  its  only  use 
The  claims  of  folly  to  reduce, 
And  bring  men  down  to  sober  reason, 
Would  be  a  blessing  in  it?  season. 


THE  LION'S  COURT. 

His  lion  majesty  would  know,  one  day, 
What  bestial  tribes  were  subject  to  his  sway. 
He  therefore  gave  his  vassals,  all, 
By  deputies,  a  call, 
Despatching  every  where 
A  written  circular, 
Which  bore  his  seal,  and  did  import 
His  majesty  would  hold  his  court 
A  month  most  splendidly  ;  — 
A  feast  would  open  his  levee, 
Which  done,  Sir  Jocko's  sleight 
Would  give  the  court  delight. 
By  such  sublime  magnificence 
The  king  would  show  his  power  immense. 

Now  were  they  gathered  all 

Within  the  royal  hall  — 
And  such  a  hall !    The  charnel  scent 
Would  make  the  strongest  nerves  relent. 
The  bear  put  up  his  paw  to  close 
The  double  access  of  his  nose. 
The  act  had  better  been  omitted  ; 
His  throne  at  once  the  monarch  quitted, 
And  sent  to  Pluto's  court  the  bear, 
To  show  his  delicacy  there 


22  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  ape  approved  the  cruel  deed, 
A  thorough  flatterer  by  breed. 
He  praised  the  prince's  wrath  and  claws ; 
He  praised  the  odor  and  its  cause. 
Judged  by  the  fragrance  of  that  cave, 
The  amber  of  the  Baltic  wave, 
The  rose,  the  pink,  the  hawthorn  bank, 
Might  with  the  vulgar  garlic  rank. 
The  mark  his  flattery  overshot, 
And  made  him  share  poor  Bruin's  lot, 
This  lion  playing,  in  his  way, 
The  part  of  Don  Caligula. 
The  fox  approached.     Now,  said  the  king, 
Apply  your  nostrils  to  this  thing, 
And  let  me  hear,  without  disguise, 
The  judgment  of  a  beast  so  wise. 
The  fox  replied,  Your  majesty  will  please 
Excuse  —  and  here  he  took  good  care  to  sneeze  ;  — 
Afflicted  with  a  dreadful  cold, 
Your  majesty  need  not  be  told 
My  sense  of  smell  is  mostly  gone. 
From  danger  thus  withdrawn, 

He  teaches  us  the  while, 

That  one,  to  gain  the  smile 
Of  kings,  must  hold  the  middle  place 
'Twixt  blunt  rebuke  and  fulsome  praise ; 
And  sometimes  use,  with  easy  grace, 
The  language  of  the  Norman  race.* 

*  The  Normans  are  proverbial  among  the  French  for  the  oracular 
non-committal  of  their  responses.  Vn  JYormand,  says  the  proverb, 
a  son  dit  ct  son  didlt. 


THE  VULTURES  AND  THE  PIGEONS. 


Mars  once  made  havoc  in  the  air : 
Some  cause  aroused  a  quarrel  there 
Among  the  birds  ;  — not  those  that  sing, 
The  courtiers  of  the  merry  Spring, 
And  by  their  talk,  in  leafy  bovvers, 
Of  loves  they  feel,  enkindle  ours  ; 
Nor  those  which  Cupid's  mother  yokes 
To  whirl  on  high  her  golden  spokes ; 
But  naughty  hawk  and  vulture  folks, 
Of  hooked  beak  and  talons  keen. 
The  carcass  of  a  dog,  'tis  said, 
Had  to  this  civil  carnage  led. 
Blood  rained  upon  the  swarded  green, 
And  valiant  deeds  were  done,  I  ween. 
But  time  and  breath  would  surely  fail 
To  give  the  fight  in  full  detail ; 
Suffice  to  say,  that  chiefs  were  slain, 
And  heroes  strowed  the  sanguine  plain, 
Till  old  Prometheus,  in  his  chains, 
Began  to  hope  an  end  of  pains. 
'Twas  sport  to  see  the  battle  rage, 
And  valiant  hawk  with  hawk  engage ; 


24  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

'Twas  pitiful  to  see  them  fall,  — 

Torn,  bleeding,  weltering,  gasping,  all. 

Force,  courage,  cunning,  all  were  plied ; 

Intrepid  troops  on  either  side 

No  effort  spared  to  populate 

The  dusky  realms  of  hungry  Fate. 

This  woful  strife  awoke  compassion 

Within  another  feathered  nation, 
Of  iris  neck  and  tender  heart. 

They  tried  their  hand  at  mediation  — 
To  reconcile  the  foes,  or  part. 

The  pigeon  people  duly  chose 

Ambassadors,  who  worked  so  well 
As  soon  the  murderous  rage  to  quell, 

And  staunch  the  source  of  countless  woes. 

A  truce  took  place,  and  peace  ensued. 
Alas  !  the  people  dearly  paid 
Who  such  pacification  made ! 

Those  cursed  hawks  at  once  pursued 

The  harmless  pigeons,  slew  and  ate, 

Till  towns  and  fields  were  desolate. 

Small  prudence  had  the  friends  of  peace 

To  pacify  such  foes  as  these ! 

The  safety  of  the  rest  requires 
The  bad  should  flesh  each  other's  spears : 

Whoever  peace  with  them  desires 
Had  better  set  them  by  the  ears. 


THE   COACH  AND   THE   FLY. 

Upon  a  sandy,  uphill  road, 

Which  naked  in  the  sunshine  glowed, 

Six  lusty  horses  drew  a  coach. 
Dames,  monks,  and  invalids,  its  load, 
On  foot,  outside,  at  leisure  trode. 
The  team,  all  weary,  stopped  and  blowed : 

Whereon  there  did  a  fly  approach, 
And,  with  a  vastly  business  air, 

Cheered  up  the  horses  with  his  buzz,  — 
Now  pricked  them  here,  now  pricked  them  there, 

As  neatly  as  a  jockey  does,  — 
And  thought  the  while — he  knew  'twas  so — 
He  made  the  team  and  carriage  go,  — 
On  carriage-pole  sometimes  alighting  — 
Or  driver's  nose  —  and  biting. 
And  when  the  whole  did  get  in  motion, 
Confirmed  and  settled  in  the  notion, 
He  took,  himself,  the  total  glory,  — 
Hew  back  and  forth  in  wondrous  hurry, 


26  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And,  as  he  buzzed  about  the  cattle, 

Seemed  like  a  sergeant  in  a  battle, 

The  files  and  squadrons  leading  on 

To  where  the  victory  is  won. 

Thus  charged  with  all  the  commonweal, 

This  single  fly  began  to  feel 

Responsibility  too  great, 

And  cares,  a  grievous,  crushing  weight ; 

And  made  complaint  that  none  would  aid 

The  horses  up  the  tedious  hill  — 
The  monk  his  prayers  at  leisure  said  — 

Fine  time  to  pray  !  —  the  dames,  at  will, 
Were  singing  songs  —  not  greatly  needed  ! 

Thus  in  their  ears  he  sharply  sang, 

And  notes  of  indignation  rang,  — 
Notes,  after  all,  not  greatly  heeded. 
Erelong  the  coach  was  on  the  top : 
Now,  said  the  fly,  my  hearties,  stop 
And  breathe  ;  —  I've  got  you  up  the  hill , — 

And,  Messrs.  Horses,  let  me  say, 
I  need  not  ask  you  if  you  will 

A  proper  compensation  pay. 

Thus  certain  ever-bustling  noddies 
Are  seen  in  every  great  affair  :  — 

Important,  swelling,  busy-bodies, 
And  bores  'tis  easier  to  bear 

Than  chase  them  from  their  needless  care. 


THF  WOUF   AND  THE  DOG. 

A  prowling  wolf,  whose  shaggy  skin 
(So  strict  the  watch  of  dogs  had  been) 

Hid  little  but  his  bones, 
Once  met  a  mastiff  dog  astray. 
A  prouder,  fatter,  sleeker  Tray, 

No  human  mortal  owns. 
Sir  Wolf,  in  famished  plight, 

Would  fain  have  made  a  ration 

Upon  his  fat  relation  ; 
But  then  he  first  must  fight ; 

And  well  the  dog  seemed  able 

To  save  from  wolfish  table 
His  carcass  snug  and  tight. 

So,  then,  in  civil  conversation 

The  wolf  expressed  his  admiration 
Of  Tray's  fine  case.     Said  Tray,  polite! 
Yourself,  good  sir,  may  be  as  sightly, 
Quit  but  the  woods,  advised  by  me. 
For  all  your  fellows  here,  I  see, 
Are  shabby  wretches,  lean  and  gaunt, 
Belike  to  die  of  haggard  want. 
With  such  a  pack,  of  course  it  follows, 
One  fights  for  every  bit  he  swallows. 


28  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Come,  then,  with  me,  and  share 
On  equal  terms  our  princely  fare. 
But  what  with  you 
Has  one  to  do  ? 
Inquires  the  wolf.     Light  work  indeed, 
Replies  the  dog;  you  only  need 
To  bark  a  little  now  and  then, 
To  chase  off  duns  and  beggar  men, 
To  fawn  on  friends  that  come  or  go  forth, 
Your  master  please,  and  so  forth  ; 
For  which  you  have  to  eat 
All  sorts  of  well-cooked  meat  — 
Cold  pullets,  pigeons,  savory  messes  — 
Besides  unnumbered  fond  caresses. 
The  wolf,  by  force  of  appetite, 
Accepts  the  terms  outright, 
Tears  glistening  in  his  eyes. 
But,  faring  on,  he  spies 

A  galled  spot  on  the  mastiff's  neck. 
What's  that?  he  cries.     O,  nothing  but  a  speck. 
A  speck?     Ay,  ay;   'tis  not  enough  to  pain  me; 
Perhaps  the  collar's  mark  by  which  they  chain  me. 
Chain  !  chain  you  !     What !  run  you  not,  then, 
Just  where  you  please,  and  when  ? 
Not  always,  sir;  but  what  of  that? 
Enough  for  me,  to  spoil  your  fat ! 
It  ought  to  be  a  precious  price 
Which  could  to  servile  chains  entice ; 
For  me,  I'll  shun  them  while  I've  wit. 
So  ran  Sir  Wro!f5  and  runneth  yet. 


£.*!._; 


THE     WOLF    AND     THE    DOG. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  29 

THE  WOLF  ACCUSING  THE  FOX  BEFORE 
THE  MONKEY. 

A  wolf,  affirming  his  belief, 

That  he  had  suffered  by  a  thief, 
Brought  up  his  neighbor  fox  — 

Of  whom  it  was  by  all  confessed, 

His  character  was  not  the  best  — 
To  fill  the  prisoner's  box. 

As  judge  between  these  vermin, 

A  monkey  graced  the  ermine ; 

And  truly  other  gifts  of  Themis 
Did  scarcely  seem  his ; 

For  while  each  party  plead  his  cause, 

Appealing  boldly  to  the  laws, 

And  much  the  question  vexed, 

Our  monkey  sat  perplexed. 

Their  words  and  wrath  expended, 

Their  strife  at  length  was  ended ; 

When,  by  their  malice  taught, 

The  judge  this  judgment  brought:  — 
Your  characters,  my  friends,  I  long  have  known. 

As  on  this  trial  clearly  shown ; 
And  hence  I  fine  you  both  —  the  grounds  at  iaige 

To  state,  would  little  profit  — 
Vrou  wolf,  in  short,  as  bringing  groundless  charge, 

You  fox,  as  guilty  of  it. 

Come  at  it  right  or  wrong,  the  judge  opined 
No  other  than  a  villain  could  be  lined. 


THE  DAIRYWOMAN  AND  THE  POT  OF  MILK. 

A  pot  of  milk  upon  her  cushioned  crown, 
Good  Peggy  hastened  to  the  market  town ; 
Short  clad  and  light,  with  speed  she  went, 
Not  fearing  any  accident ; 

Indeed,  to  be  the  nimbler  tripper, 

Her  dress  that  day, 

The  truth  to  say, 
Was  simple  petticoat  and  slipper. 

And,  thus  bedight, 

Good  Peggy,  light,  — 
Her  gains  already  counted,  — 

Laid  out  the  cash 

At  single  dash, 
Which  to  a  hundred  eggs  amounted. 

Three  nests  she  made, 

Which,  by  the  aid 
Of  diligence  and  care,  were  hatched. 

To  raise  the  chicks, 

I'll  easy  fix, 
Said  she,  beside  our  cottage  thatched. 

The  fox  must  get 

More  cunning  yet, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  31 

Or  leave  enough  to  buy  a  pig. 

With  little  care, 

And  any  fare, 
He'll  grow  quite  fat  and  big ; 

And  then  the  price 

Will  be  so  nice, 
For  which  the  pork  will  sell ! 

'Twill  go  quite  hard 

But  in  our  yard 
I'll  bring  a  cow  and  calf  to  dwell  — 

A  calf  to  frisk  among  the  flock ! 
The  thought  made  Peggy  do  the  same ; 
And  down  at  once  the  milk-pot  came, 

And  perished  with  the  shock. 
Calf,  cow,  and  pig,  and  chicks,  adieu ! 
Your  mistress'  face  is  sad  to  view ;  — 
She  gives  a  tear  to  fortune  spilt ; 
Then,  with  the  downcast  look  of  guilt, 
Home  to  her  husband  empty  goes. 
Somewhat  in  danger  of  his  blows. 

Who  buildeth  not,  sometimes,  in  air, 
His  cots,  or  seats,  or  castles  fair  ? 
From  kings  to  dairywomen,  —  all,  — 
The  wise,  the  foolish,  great  and  small,  — 
Each  thinks  his  waking  dream  the  best. 
Some  flattering  error  fills  the  breast : 
The  world,  with  all  its  wealth,  is  ours, 
Its  honors,  dames,  and  loveliest  bowers. 


32  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Instinct  with  valor,  when  alone, 
I  hurl  the  monarch  from  his  throne ; 
The  people,  glad  to  see  him  dead, 
Elect  me  monarch  in  his  stead, 
And  diadems  rain  on  my  head 
Some  accident  then  calls  me  back, 
And  I'm  no  more  than  simple  Jack ! 


THE  CURATE  AND  THE  CORPSE. 

Is 

A  dead  man  going  slowly,  sadly, 

To  occupy  his  last  abode, 
A  curate  by  him,  rather  gladly, 

Did  holy  service  on  the  road. 
Within  a  coach  the  dead  was  borne, 
A  robe  around  him,  duly  worn, 
Of  which,  I  wot,  he  was  not  proud  — 
That  ghostly  garment  called  a  shroud. 
In  summer's  blaze  and  winter's  blast, 
That  robe  is  changeless  —  'tis  the  last. 
The  curate,  with  his  priestly  dress  on, 

Recited  all  the  church's  prayers, 
The  psalm,  the  verse,  response,  and  lesson, 

In  fullest  style  of  such  affairs. 
Sir  Corpse,  we  beg  you,  do  not  fear 
A  lack  of  such  things  on  your  bier ; 
They'll  give  abundance  every  way, 
Provided  only  that  you  pay. 
The  Reverend  John  Cabbage  pate 


LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  33 

Watched  o'er  the  corpse,  as  if  it  were 

A  treasure,  needing  guardian  care ; 

And  all  the  while  his  looks,  elate, 
This  language  seemed  to  hold  :  — 

The  dead  will  pay  so  much  in  gold, 

So  much  in  lights  of  molten  wax, 

So  much  in  other  sorts  of  tax : 
With  all  he  hoped  to  buy  a  cask  of  wine, 
The  best  which  thereabouts  produced  the  vine. 
A  pretty  niece,  on  whom  he  doted, 
And  eke  his  chambermaid,  should  be  promoted, 
By  being  newly  petticoated. 

The  coach,  upset  and  dashed  to  pieces, 

Cut  short  these  thoughts  of  wine  and  nieces! 

There  lay  poor  John,  with  broken  head, 

Beneath  the  coffin  of  the  dead ! 

H4s  rich  parishioner  in  lead 
Drew  on  the  priest  the  doom 

Of  riding  with  him  to  the  tomb ! 

The  Pot  of  Milk,  and  fate 

Of  Curate  Cabbagepate, 

As  emblems,  do  but  give 

The  history  of  most  that  live. 


THE   OLD   MAN   AND  THE  ASS. 


An  old  man,  riding  on  his  ass, 
Had  found  a  spot  of  thrifty  grass, 
And  there  turned  loose  his  weary  beast. 
Old  Grizzle,  pleased  with  such  a  feast, 
Flung  up  his  heels,  and  capered  round, 
Then  rolled  and  rubbed  upon  the  ground, 
And  frisked,  and  browsed,  and  brayed, 
And  many  a  clean  spot  made. 
Armed  men  came  on  them  as  he  fed  : 
Let's  fly,  in  haste  the  old  man  said. 
And  wherefore  so  ?  the  ass  replied. 
With  heavier  burdens  will  they  ride  ? 

No,  said  the  man,  already  started. 

Then,  cried  the  ass,  as  he  departed, 

I'll  stay,  and  be  —  no  matter  whose; 

Save  yon  yourself,  and  leave  me  loose. 

But  let  me  tell  you,  ere  you  go, 

(I  speak  plain  French,  you  know,) 

My  master  is  my  only  foe. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  35 


THE  MAN  WHO  RAN   AFTER   FORTUNE,   AND  THE 
MAN  WHO  WAITED  FOR  HER  ON  HIS  BED. 

Who  joins  not  with  his  restless  race 
To  give  Dame  Fortune  eager  chase  ? 
O,  had  I  but  some  lofty  perch, 

From  which  to  view  the  panting  crowd 

Of  care-worn  dreamers,  poor  and  proud, 
As  on  they  hurry  in  the  search, 
From  realm  to  realm,  o'er  land  and  water, 
Of  Fate's  fantastic,  fickle  daughter ! 
Ah !  slaves  sincere  of  flying  phantom  ! 

Just  as  their  goddess  they  would  clasp, 

The  jilt  divine  eludes  their  grasp, 
And  flits  away  to  Bantam ! 
Poor  fellows!  I  bewail  their  lot. 

And  here's  the  comfort  of  my  ditty  ; 
For  fools  the  mark  of  wrath  are  not 

So  much,  I'm  sure,  as  pity. 
That  man,  say  they,  and  feed  their  hope, 
Raised  cabbages  —  and  now  he's  pope  ! 
Don't  we  deserve  as  rich  a  prize  ? 
Ay,  richer  ?    But  hath  Fortune  eyes  ? 
And  then  the  popedom,  is  it  worth 

The  price  that  must  be  given  ?  — 
Repose  ?  —  the  sweetest  bliss  of  earth, 

And,  ages  since,  of  gods  in  heaven  ? 


36  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

'Tis  rarely  Fortune's  favorites 
Enjoy  this  cream  of  all  delights. 
Seek  not  the  dame,  and  she  will  you  — 
A  truth  which  of  her  sex  is  true. 

Snug  in  a  country  town 

A  pair  of  friends  were  settled  down. 

One  sighed  unceasingly  to  find 

A  fortune  better  to  his  mind, 

And,  as  he  chanced  his  friend  to  meet, 

Proposed  to  quit  their  dull  retreat. 

No  prophet  can  to  honor  come, 

Said  he,  unless  he  quits  his  home ; 

Let's  seek  our  fortune  far  and  wide. 

Seek,  if  you  please,  his  friend  replied  ; 

For  one,  I  do  not  wish  to  see 

A  better  clime  or  destiny. 

]  leave  the  search  and  prize  to  you ; 

Your  restless  humor  please  pursue ; 

You'll  soon  come  back  again. 

I  vow  to  nap  it  here  till  then. 

The  enterprising,  or  ambitious, 

Or,  if  you  please,  the  avaricious, 

Betook  him  to  the  road. 
The  morrow  brought  him  to  a  place 
The  flaunting  goddess  ought  to  grace 

As  her  particular  abode  — 
I  mean  the  court  whereat  he  staid, 
And  plans  for  seizing  Fortune  laid. 
lie  rose,  and  dressed,  and  dined,  and  went  to  bed, 

Exactly  as  the  fashion  led : 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


37 


In  short,  he  did  whatever  he  could, 

But  never  found  the  promised  good. 

Said  he,  Now  somewhere  else  I'll  try  — 

And  jet  I  failed  I  know  not  why ; 

For  Fortune  here  is  much  at  home , 

To  this  and  that  1  see  her  come, 

Astonishingly  kind  to  some. 

And,  truly,  it  is  hard  to  see 

The  reason  why  she  slips  from  me. 

'Tis  true,  perhaps,  as  I've  been  told, 

That  spirits  here  may  be  too  bold. 

To  courts  and  courtiers  all  I  bid  adieu ; 

Deceitful  shadows  they  pursue. 

The  dame  has  temples  in  Surat ; 

I'll  go  and  see  them  —  that  is  flat. 

To  say  so  was  t'  embark  at  once. 

O,  human  hearts  are  made  of  bronze ! 

His  must  have  been  of  adamant, 

Beyond  the  power  of  Death  to  daunt, 

Who  ventured  first  this  route  to  try, 

And  all  its  frightful  risks  defy. 

'Twas  more  than  once  our  venturous  wight 

Did  homeward  turn  his  aching  sight, 

When  pirates,  rocks,  and  calms,  and  storms, 

Presented  death  in  frightful  forms  — 

Death  sought  with  pains  on  distant  shores, 

Which,  soon  as  wished  for,  would  have  come, 
Had  he  not  left  the  peaceful  doors 

Of  his  despised  but  blessed  home. 
Arrived,  at  length,  in  Hindostan, 


The  people  told  our  wayward  man 


38  LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

That  Fortune,  ever  void  of  plan. 
Dispensed  her  favors  in  Japan. 
And  on  he  went,  the  weary  sea 
His  vessel  bearing  lazily. 

This  lesson,  taught  by  savage  men. 
Was  after  all  his  only  gain  :  — 
Contented  in  thy  country  stay, 
And  seek  thy  wealth  in  nature's  way. 
Japan  refused  to  him,  no  less 
Than  Hindostan,  success ; 
And  hence  his  judgment  came  to  make 
His  quitting  home  a  great  mistake. 

Renouncing  his  ungrateful  course, 
He  hastened  back  with  all  his  force ; 
And  when  his  village  came  in  sight, 
His  tears  were  proof  of  his  delight. 
Ah,  happy  he,  exclaimed  the  wight, 
Who,  dwelling  there  with  mind  sedate, 
Employs  himself  to  regulate 
His  ever-hatching,  wild  desires ; 
WTho  checks  his  heart  when  it  aspires 
To  know  of  courts,  and  seas,  and  glory, 
More  than  he  can  by  simjjle  story ; 
Who  seeks  not  o'er  the  treacherous  wave- 
More  treacherous  Fortune's  willing  slave  - 
The  bait  of  wealth  and  honors  fleeting, 
Held  by  that  goddess,  aye  retreating. 
Henceforth  from  home  I  budge  no  more ! 

Pop  on  his  sleeping  friend's  he  came, 

Thus  purposing  against  the  dame, 
And  found  her  sitting  at  his  door. 


THE  TWO   COCKS. 


I' wo  cocks  in  peace  were  living,  when 
A  war  was  kindled  by  a  hen. 
O  love,  thou  bane  of  Troy  !  'twas  thine 
The  blood  of  men  and  gods  to  shed 
Enough  to  turn  the  Xanthus  red 

As  old  Port  wine  ! 
And  long  the  battle  doubtful  stood ; 

(I  mean  the  battle  of  the  cocks ;) 

They  gave  each  other  fearful  shocks : 
The  fame  spread  o'er  the  neighborhood, 
And  gathered  all  the  crested  brood. 
And  Helens  more  than  one,  of  plumage  bright, 
Led  off  the  victor  of  that  bloody  fight. 

The  vanquished,  drooping,  fled, 

Concealed  his  battered  head, 

And  in  a  dark  retreat 

Bewailed  his  sad  defeat. 

His  loss  of  glory  and  the  prize 
His  rival  now  enjoyed  before  his  eyes. 


40  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

While  this  he  every  day  beheld, 

His  hatred  kindled,  courage  swelled ; 

He  whet  his  beak,  and  flapped  his  wings, 

And  meditated  dreadful  things. 

Waste  rage  !     His  rival  flew  upon  a  roof 

And  crowed  to  give  his  victory  proof.  — 

A  hawk  this  boasting  heard. 
Now  perished  all  his  pride, 
As  suddenly  he  died 

Beneath  that  savage  bird. 

In  consequence  of  this  reverse, 
The  vanquished  sallied  from  his  hole, 
And  took  the  harem,  master  sole, 

For  moderate  penance  not  the  worse. 
Imagine  the  congratulation, 

The  proud  and  stately  leading, 

Gallanting,  coaxing,  feeding, 
Of  wives  almost  a  nation. 

'Tis  thus  that  Fortune  loves  to  flee 

The  insolent  by  victory. 

We  should  mistrust  her  when  we  beat. 

Lest  triumph  lead  us  to  defeat. 


THE  INGRATITUDE  AND   INJUSTICE  OF  MEN 
TOWARDS  FORTUNE. 

A  trader  on  the  sea  to  riches  grew ; 
Freight  after  freight  the  winds  in  favor  blew ; 
Fate  steered  him  clear ;  gulf,  rock,  nor  shoal 
Of  all  his  bales  exacted  toll. 
Of  other  men  the  powers  of  chance  and  storm 
Their  dues  collected  in  substantial  form ; 
While  smiling  Fortune,  in  her  kindest  sport, 
Took  care  to  waft  his  vessels  to  their  port. 
His  partners,  factors,  agents,  faithful  proved ; 
His  goods  —  tobacco,  sugar,  spice  — 
Were  sure  to  fetch  the  highest  price. 
By  fashion  and  by  folly  loved, 
His  rich  brocades  and  laces, 
And  splendid  porcelain  vases, 
Enkindling  strong  desires, 
Most  readily  found  buyers. 
In  short,  gold  rained  where'er  he  went — 
Abundance,  more  than  could  be  spent  — 
Dogs,  horses,  coaches,  downy  bedding  — 
His  very  fasts  were  like  a  wedding. 
A  bosom  friend,  a  look  his  table  giving, 
Inquired  whence  came  such  sumptuous  living. 
Whence  should  it  come,  said  he,  superb  of  brow, 
But  from  the  fountain  of  my  knowing  how  ? 


42  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

1  owe  it  simply  to  my  skill  and  care 
In  risking  only  where  the  marts  will  bear. 
And  now,  so  sweet  his  swelling  profits  were, 
He  risked  anew  his  former  gains : 
Success  rewarded  not  his  pains  — 
His  own  imprudence  was  the  cause. 
One  ship,  ill-freighted,  went  awreck ; 
Another  felt  of  arms  the  lack, 
When  pirates,  trampling  on  the  laws, 
O'ercame,  and  bore  it  off  a  prize ; 

A  third,  arriving  at  its  port, 
Had  failed  to  sell  its  merchandise,  — 

The  style  and  folly  of  the  court 
Not  now  requiring  such  a  sort. 
His  agents,  factors,  failed  ;  —  in  short, 
The  man  himself,  from  pomp  and  princely  cheer. 
And  palaces,  and  parks,  and  dogs,  and  deer, 
Fell  down  to  poverty  most  sad  and  drear. 
His  friend,  now  meeting  him  in  shabby  plight. 
Exclaimed,  And  whence  comes  this  to  pass  ? 
From  Fortune,  said  the  man,  alas ! 
Console  yourself,  replied  the  friendly  wight ; 
For,  if  to  make  you  rich  the  dame  denies, 
She  can't  forbid  you  to  be  wise. 

What  faith  he  gained,  I  do  not  wis ; 
1  know,  in  every  case  like  this, 
Each  claims  the  credit  of  his  bliss. 

And  with  a  heart  ingrate 
Imputes  his  misery  to  Fate. 


THE  FORTUNE-TELLERS. 


'Tis  oft  from  chance  opinion  takes  its  rise, 
And  into  reputation  multiplies. 

This  prologue  finds  pat  applications 
In  men  of  all  this  world's  vocations ; 
For  fashion,  prejudice,  and  party  strife, 
Conspire  to  crowd  poor  justice  out  of  life. 
What  can  you  do  to  counteract 
This  reckless,  rushing  cataract  ? 
'Twill  have  its  course  for  good  or  bad, 
As  it,  indeed,  has  always  had. 
A  dame  in  Paris  played  the  Pythoness 
With  much  of  custom,  and,  of  course,  success. 
Was  any  trifle  lost,  or  did 

Some  maid  a  husband  wish, 
Or  wife  of  husband  to  be  rid, 

Or  either  sex  for  fortune  fish, 
Resort  was  had  to  her  with  gold, 
To  get  the  hidden  future  told. 
Her  art  was  made  of  various  tricks, 
Wherein  the  dame  contrived  to  mix, 


44  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

With  much  assurance,  learned  terms. 
Now,  chance,  of  course,  sometimes  confirms ; 
And  just  as  often  as  it  did, 
The  news  was  anything  but  hid. 
In  short,  though,  as  to  ninety-nine  per  cent., 
The  lady  knew  not  what  her  answers  meant, 
Borne  up  by  ever-babbling  Fame, 
An  oracle  she  soon  became. 
A  garret  was  this  woman's  home, 
Till  she  had  gained  of  gold  a  sum 
That  raised  the  station  of  her  spouse  — 
Bought  him  an  office  and  a  house. 
As  she  could  then  no  longer  bear  it, 
Another  tenanted  the  garret. 
To  her  came  up  the  city  crowd,  — 
Wives,  maidens,  servants,  gentry  proud,  — 
To  ask  their  fortunes,  as  before  ; 
A  Sibyl's  cave  was  on  her  garret  floor : 
Such  custom  had  its  former  mistress  drawn, 
It  lasted  even  when  herself  was  gone. 
It  sorely  taxed  the  present  mistress'  wits 
To  satisfy  the  throngs  of  teasing  cits. 
I  tell  your  fortunes  !  joke,  indeed  ! 
Why,  gentlemen,  I  cannot  read ! 
What  can  you,  ladies,  learn  from  me, 
Who  never  learned  my  A,  B,  C  ? 
Avaunt  with  reasons  !  tell  she  must,  — 

Predict  as  if  she  understood, 
And  lay  aside  more  precious  dust 
Than  two  the  ablest  lawvers  could. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  45 

The  stuff  that  garnished  out  her  room  — 
Four  crippled  chairs,  a  broken  broom  — 
Helped  mightily  to  raise  her  merits, — 
Fnll  proof  of  intercourse  with  spirits! 
Had  she  predicted  e'er  so  truly, 
On  floor  with  carpet  covered  duly, 

Her  word  had  been  a  mockery  made 
The  fashion  set  upon  the  garret. 
Doubt  that !  none  bold  enough  to  dare  it ! 

The  other  woman  lost  her  trade. 

All  shopmen  know  the  force  of  signs, 
And  so,  indeed,  do  some  divines. 
In  palaces,  a  robe  awry 
Has  sometimes  set  the  wearer  hi^h : 

O         7 

And  crowds  his  teaching  will  pursue 
Who  draws  the  greatest  listening  crew 
Ask,  if  you  please,  the  reason  why. 


46  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  CAT,  THE  WEASEL,  AND  THE  YOUNG  RABBIT. 

John  Rabbit's  palace  under  ground 
Was  once  by  Goody  Weasel  found. 
She,  sly  of  heart,  resolved  to  seize 
The  place,  and  did  so  at  her  ease. 
She  took  possession  while  its  lord 
Was  absent  on  the  dewy  sward, 
Intent  upon  his  usual  sport, 
A  courtier  at  Aurora's  court. 
When  he  had  browsed  his  fill  of  clover, 
And  cut  his  pranks  all  nicely  over, 
Home  Johnny  came  to  take  his  drowse, 
All  snug  within  his  cellar-house. 
The  weasel's  nose  he  came  to  see, 

Outsticking  through  the  open  door. 
Ye  gods  of  hospitality  ! 

Exclaimed  the  creature,  vexed  sore, 
Must  I  give  up  my  father's  lodge  ? 

Ho !  Madam  Weasel,  please  to  budge, 
Or,  quicker  than  a  weasel's  dodge, 

I'll  call  the  rats  to  pay  their  grudge ! 
The  sharp-nosed  lady  made  reply, 
That  she  was  first  to  occupy. 
The  cause  of  war  was  surely  small  — 
A  house  where  one  could  only  crawl ! 
And  though  it  were  a  vast  domain, 

Said  she,  I'd  like  to  know  what  will 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  47 

Could  grant  to  John  perpetual  reign, 

The  son  of  Peter  or  of  Bill,  — 
More  than  to  Paul,  or  even  me. 
John  Rabbit  spoke  —  great  lawyer  he  — 
Of  custom,  usage,  as  the  law, 

Whereby  the  house,  from  sire  to  son, 
As  well  as  all  its  store  of  straw, 

From  Peter  came  at  length  to  John. 
Who  could  present  a  claim  so  good 
As  he,  the  first  possessor,  could  ? 
Now,  said  the  dame,  let's  drop  dispute, 

And  go  before  Raminagrobis, 
Who'll  judge,  not  only  in  this  suit, 

But  tell  us  truly  whose  the  globe  is. 
This  person  was  a  hermit  cat, 

A  cat  that  played  the  hypocrite, 
A  saintly  mouser,  sleek  and  fat, 

An  arbiter  of  keenest  wit. 
John  Rabbit  in  the  judge  concurred, 

And  off  went  both  their  case  to  broach 
Before  his  majesty,  the  furred. 

Said  Clapperclaw,  My  kits,  approach, 
And  put  your  noses  to  my  ears ; 
I'm  deaf,  almost,  by  weight  of  years. 
And  so  they  did,  not  fearing  aught. 

The  good  apostle,  Clapperclaw, 

Then  laid  on  each  a  well-armed  paw, 
And  both  to  an  agreement  brought, 

By  virtue  of  his  tusked  jaw. 
This  brings  to  mind  the  fate 
Of  little  kings  before  the  great. 


THE  HEAD  AND  THE  TAIL  OF  THE  SERPENT. 


Two  parts  the  serpent  has  — 

Of  men  the  enemies  — 

The  head  and  tail :  the  same 

Have  won  a  mighty  fame, 
Next  to  the  cruel  Fates  ;  — 

So  that,  indeed,  hence 

They  once  had  great  debates 

About  precedence. 
The  first  had  always  gone  ahead ; 
The  tail  had  been  forever  led ; 
And  now  to  Heaven  it  prayed, 

And  said, 
O,  many  and  many  a  league, 

Dragged  on  in  sore  fatigue, 

Behind  his  back  I  go. 
Shall  he  forever  use  me  so? 
Am  I  his  humble  servant? 
No.     Thanks  to  God  most  fervent ! 

His  brother  I  was  born, 

And  not  his  slave  forlorn. 

The  self-same  blood  in  both, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  49 

I'm  just  as  good  as  he  : 

A  poison  dwells  in  me 
As  virulent  as  doth  * 
In  him.     In  mercy,  heed 

And  grant  me  this  decree, 
That  I  in  turn  may  lead  —  . 

My  brother  follow  me. 
My  course  shall  be  so  wise 
That  no  complaint  shall  rise. 

With  cruel  kindness  Heaven  granted 
The  very  thing  he  blindly  wanted : 
To  such  desires  of  beasts  and  men, 
Though  often  deaf,  it  was  not  then. 

At  once  this  novel  guide, 
That  saw  no  more  in  broad  daylight 
Than  in  the  murk  of  darkest  night, 
His  powers  of  leading  tried, 
Struck  trees,  and  men,  and  stones,  and  bricks, 
And  led  his  brother  straight  to  Styx. 
And  to  the  same  unlovely  home, 
Some  states  by  such  an  error  come. 

*  An  ancient  mistake  in  natural  history. 


AN   ANIMAL  IN   THE  MOON.* 

While  one  philosopher  affirms 

That  by  our  senses  we're  deceived, 

Another  swears,  in  plainest  terms, 
The  senses  are  to  be  believed. 
The  twain  are  right.     Philosophy 
Correctly  calls  us  dupes  whene'er 

Upon  mere  senses  we  rely ; 

But  when  we  wisely  rectify 
The  raw  report  of  eye  or  ecu, 

By  distance,  medium,  circumstance, 

In  real  knowledge  we  advance. 

These  things  hath  nature  wisely  planned  — 

Whereof  the  proof  shall  be  at  hand. 

I  see  the  sun :  its  dazzling  glow 

Seems  but  a  hand-breadth  here  below  ; 

But  should  I  see  it  in  its  home, 

That  azure,  star-besprinkled  dome, 


*  This  fable  is  founded  on  a  fact  which  occurred  in  the  experience 
of  the  astronomer  Sir  Paul  Neal,  a  member  of  the  Royal  Society  of 
London. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  51 

Of  all  the  universe  the  eye, 
Its  blaze  would  fill  one  half  the  sky. 
The  powers  of  trigonometry 
Have  set  my  mind  from  blunder  free. 
The  ignorant  believe  it  flat ; 
]  make  it  round,  instead  of  that. 
I  fasten,  fix,  on  nothing  ground  it, 
And  send  the  earth  to  travel  round  it. 
In  short,  I  contradict  my  eyes, 
And  sift  the  truth  from  constant  lies. 
The  mind,  not  hasty  at  conclusion, 
Resists  the  onset  of  illusion, 
Forbids  the  sense  to  get  the  better, 
And  ne'er  believes  it  to  the  letter. 
Between  my  eyes,  perhaps  too  ready, 

And  ears  as  much  or  more  too  slow, 
A  judge  with  balance  true  and  steady, 

I  come,  at  last,  some  things  to  know. 
Thus  when  the  water  crooks  a  stick, 
My  reason  straightens  it  as  quick  — 
Kind  Mistress  Reason  —  foe  of  error, 
And  best  of  shields  from  needless  terror. 
The  creed  is  common  with  our  race, 
The  moon  contains  a  woman's  face. 
True  ?    No.    Whence,  then,  the  notion, 
From  mountain  top  to  ocean  ? 
The  roughness  of  that  satellite, 

Its  hills  and  dales,  of  every  grade, 

Effect  a  change  of  light  and  shade 
Deceptive  to  our  feeble  sight : 


52  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

So  that,  besides  the  human  faee, 
All  sorts  oi  creatures  one  might  trace, 
Indeed,  a  living  beast,  1  ween, 
Has  lately  been  by  England  seen. 
All  duly  placed  the  telescope, 
And  keen  observers  full  of  hope. 
An  animal  entirely  new, 
In  that  fair  planet,  came  to  view. 
Abroad  and  fast  the  wonder  flew ;  — 
Some  change  had  taken  place  on  high, 
Presaging  earthly  changes  nigh  ; 
Perhaps,  indeed,  it  might  betoken 
The  wars  that  had  already  broken 
Out  wildly  o'er  the  continent. 
The  king  to  see  the  wonder  went : 
(As  patron  of  the  sciences, 
No  right  to  go  more  plain  than  his.) 
To  him,  in  turn,  distinct  and  clear, 
This  lunar  monster  did  appear.  — 
A  mouse,  between  the  lenses  caged, 
Had  caused  these  wars,  so  fiercely  waged  ! 
No  doubt  the  happy  English  folks 
Laughed  at  it  as  the  best  of  jokes. 
How  soon  will  Mars  afford  the  chance 
For  like  amusements  here  in  France  ! 
He  makes  us  reap  broad  fields  of  glory. 
Our  foes  may  fear  the  battle-ground  ; 
For  us,  it  is  no  sooner  found, 
Than  Louis,  with  fresh  laurels  crowned, 
Bears  higher  up  our  country's  story. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  53 

The  daughters,  too,  of  Memory, — 
The  Pleasures  and  the  Graces, — 
Still  show  their  cheering  faces  : 
We  wish  for  peace,  but  do  not  sigh. 
The  English  Charles  the  secret  knows 
To  make  the  most  of  his  repose. 
And  more  than  this,  he'll  know  the  way, 
By  valor  working  sword  in  hand, 
To  bring  his  sea-encircled  land 
To  share  the  fight  it  only  sees  to-day. 
Yet,  could  he  bat  this  quarrel  quell, 
What  incense-clouds  would  grateful  swell ! 
What  deed  more  worthy  of  his  fame  !  * 
Augustus,  Julius  —  pray,  which  Caesar's  name 
Shines  now  on  story's  page  with  purest  flame  ? 
O  people  happy  in  your  sturdy  hearts ! 
Say,  when  shall  Peace  pack  up  these  bloody  darts, 
And  send  us  all,  like  you,  to  softer  arts  ? 

*  This  fable  appears  to  have  been  composed  about  the  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  belligerent  parties  invoked  her  mediation.  Charles  II.,  however, 
felt  himself  exceedingly  embarrassed  by  his  secret  connections  with 
Louis  XIV.,  which  made  him  desire  to  prescribe  conditions  favorable  to 
that  monarch ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  feared  the  people  of  Eng- 
land, if,  treacherous  to  her  interests,  he  should  fail  to  favor  the  nations 
allied  and  combined  against  France. 


54  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  TORRENT   AND   THE   RIVER. 


With  mighty  rush  and  roar, 
Adown  a  mountain  steep 
A  torrent  tumbled,  —  swelling  o'er 

Its  rugged  banks,  —  and  bore 
Vast  ruin  in  its  sweep. 
The  traveller  were  surely  rash 
To  brave  its  whirling,  foaming  dash. 
But  one,  by  robbers  sorely  pressed, 
Its  terrors  haply  put  to  test. 
They  were  but  threats  of  foam  and  sound. 
The  loudest  where  the  least  profound. 
With  courage  from  his  safe  success, 
His  foes  continuing  to  press, 

He  met  a  river  in  his  course : 
On  stole  its  waters,  calm  and  deep, 
So  silently  they  seemed  asleep, 
All  sweetly  cradled,  as  I  ween, 
In  sloping  banks,  and  gravel  clean,  — 

They  threatened  neitiier  man  nor  horse. 
Both  ventured  ;   but  the  noble  steed, 
That  saved  from  robbers  by  his  speed, 
From  that  deep  water  could  not  save ; 
Both  went  to  drink  the  Stygian  wave; 
Both  went  to  cross,  (but  not  to  swim,) 
Where  reigns  a  monarch  stern  and  grim, 
Far  other  streams  than  ours. 


THE  RAT   AND   THE   ELEPHANT. 

One's  own  importance  to  enhance, 

Inspirited  by  self-esteem, 
Is  quite  a  common  thing  in  France  ; 

A  French  disease  it  well  might  seem. 
The  strutting  cavaliers  of  Spain 
Are  in  another  manner  vain. 
Their  pride  has  more  insanity, 
More  silliness  our  vanity. 
Let's  shadow  forth  our  own  disease  — 
Well  worfh  a  hundred  tales  like  these. 

A  rat,  of  quite  the  smallest  size, 
Fixed  on  an  elephant  his  eyes, 
And  jeered  the  beast  of  high  descent 
Because  his  feet  so  slowly  went. 
Upon  his  back,  three  stories  high, 
There  sat,  beneath  a  canopy, 
A  certain  sultan  of  renown, 

His  dog,  and  cat,  and  concubine, 
His  parrot,  servant,  and  his  wine, 
All  pilgrims  to  a  distant  town. 


56  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  rat  professed  to  be  amazed 

That  all  the  people  stood  and  gazed 

With  wonder,  as  he  passed  the  road, 

Both  at  the  creature  and  his  loud. 

As  if,  said  he,  to  occupy 

A  little  more  of  land  or  sky 

Made  one,  in  view  of  common  sense, 

Of  greater  worth  and  consequence  ! 

What  see  ye,  men,  in  this  parade, 

That  food  for  wonder  need  be  made  ? 

The  bulk  which  makes  a  child  afraid  ? 

In  truth,  1  take  myself  to  be, 

In  all  respects,  as  good  as  he. 

And  further  might  have  gone  his  vaunt ; 

But,  darting  down,  the  cat 

Convinced  him  that  a  rat 
Is  smaller  than  an  elephant. 


^ii^ILia    VSR  8  IB* 


'V 


* 


DEATH   AND   THE   DYING. 


eath  never  taketh  by  surprise 
The  well  prepared,  to  wit,  the  wise  — 
P       They  knowing  of  themselves  the  time 

To  meditate  the  final  change  of  clime. 

That  time,  alas  !  embraces  all 
Which  into  hours  and  minutes  we  divide; 

There  is  no  part,  however  small, 
That  from  this  tribute  one  can  hide. 


58  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  very  moment,  oft,  which  bids 
The  heirs  of  empire  see  the  light 

Is  that  which  shuts  their  fringed  lids 
In  everlasting  night. 

Defend  yourself  by  rank  and  wealth, 

Plead  beauty,  virtue,  youth,  and  health,  — 
Unblushing  Death  will  ravish  all ;, 

The  world  itself  shall  pass  beneath  his  pall. 

No  truth  is  better  known ;   but,  truth  to  say, 
No  truth  is  oftener  thrown  away. 

A  man,  well  in  his  second  century, 

Complained  that  Death  had  called  him  suddenly; 
Had  left  no  time  his  plans  to  fill, 
To  balance  books,  or  make  his  will. 

0  Death,  said  he,  d'ye  call  it  fair, 
Without  a  warning  to  prepare, 
To  take  a  man  on  lifted  leg  ? 

O,  wait  a  little  while,  I  beg. 
My  wife  cannot  be  left  alone  ; 

1  must  set  out  my  nephew's  son  ; 
And  let  me  build  my  house  a  wing, 
Before  you  strike,  O  cruel  king ! 

Old  man,  said  Death,  one  thing  is  sure,  — 

My  visit  here's  not  premature. 

Hast  thou  not  lived  a  century  ? 

Dar'st  thou  engage  to  find  for  me, 

In  Paris'  walls,  two  older  men  ? 

Has  France,  among  her  millions,  ten  ? 

Thou  say'st  I  should  have  sent  thee  word 

Thy  lamp  to  trim,  thy  loins  to  gird  ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  59 

And  then  my  coming  had  been  meet — 
Thy  will  engrossed, 
Thy  house  complete ! 

Did  not  thy  feelings  notify  ? 

Did  not  they  tell  thee  thou  must  die  ? 

Thy  taste  and  hearing  are  no  more ; 

Thy  sight  itself  is  gone  before  ; 

For  thee  the  sun  superfluous  shines, 

And  all  the  wealth  of  Indian  mines. 

Thy  mates  I've  shown  thee  dead  or  dying. 

What's  this,  indeed,  but  notifying? 

Come  on,  old  man,  without  reply ; 
For  to  the  great  and  common  weal 

It  doth  but  little  signify 

Whether  thy  will  shall  ever  feel 
The  impress  of  thy  hand  and  seal. 

And  Death  had  reason,  —  ghastly  sage  ! 

For  surely  man,  at  such  an  age, 

Should  part  from  life  as  from  a  feast, 

Returning  decent  thanks,  at  least, 

To  Him  who  spread  the  various  cheer, 

And  unrepining  take  his  bier ; 

For  shun  it  long  no  creature  can. 

Repinest  thou,  gray-headed  man  ? 

See  younger  mortals  rushing  by 

To  meet  their  death  without  a  sigh  — 

Death  full  of  triumph  and  of  fame, 

But  in  its  terrors  still  the  same.  — 

But,  ah !  my  words  are  thrown  away ! 

Those  most  like  Death  most  dread  his  sway. 


THE  COBBLER  AND  THE  FINANCIER, 


V 


A  cobbler  sang  from  morn  till  night ; 

'Twas  sweet  and  marvellous  to  hear. 

His  trills  and  quavers  told  the  ear 
Of  more  contentment  and  delight, 
Enjoyed  by  that  laborious  wight, 
Than  e'er  enjoyed  the  sages  seven, 
Or  any  mortals  short  of  heaven. 
His  neighbor,  on  the  other  hand, 
With  gold  in  plenty  at  command, 
But  little  sang,  and  slumbered  less  — 
A  financier  of  great  success. 
If  e'er  he  dozed  at  break  of  day, 
The  cobbler's  song  drove  sleep  away  ; 
And  much  he  wished  that  Heaven  had  made 
Sleep  a  commodity  of  trade, 
In  market  sold,  like  food  and  drink, 
So  much  an  hour,  so  much  a  wink. 
At  last,  our  songster  did  he  call 
To  meet  him  in  his  princely  hall. 
Said  he,  Now,  honest  Gregory, 
What  may  your  yearly  earnings  be  ? 


' 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  61 

My  yearly  earnings  !  faith,  good  sir, 

I  never  go,  at  once,  so  far, 

The  cheerful  cobbler  said, 

And  queerly  scratched  his  head,  — 

I  never  reckon  in  that  way, 

But  cobble  on  from  day  to  day, 
Content  with  daily  bread. 
Indeed!     Well,  Gregory,  pray, 
What  may  your  earnings  be  per  day  ? 
Why,  sometimes  more  and  sometimes  less. 
The  worst  of  all,  1  must  confess, 
(And  but  for  which  our  gains  would  be 
A  pretty  sight,  indeed,  to  see,) 
Is  that  the  days  are  made  so  many 
In  which  we  cannot  earn  a  penny  — 
The  sorest  ill  the  poor  man  feels : 
They  tread  upon  each  other's  heels, 
Those  idle  days  of  holy  saints! 

And  though  the  year  is  shingled  o'er, 

The  parson  keeps  a-finding  more  ! 
With  smiles  provoked  by  these  complaints, 
Replied  the  lordly  financier, 

I'll  give  you  better  cause  to  sing. 
These  hundred  pounds  I  hand  you  here 

Will  make  you  happy  as  a  king. 
Go,  spend  them  with  a  frugal  heed  ; 
They'll  long  supply  your  every  need. 
The  cobbler  thought  the  silver  more 
Than  he  had  ever  dreamed,  before, 
The  mines  for  ages  could  produce, 
Or  world,  with  all  its  people,  use. 


62 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


He  took  it  home,  and  there  did  hide, 

And  with  it  laid  his  joy  aside. 

No  more  of  song,  no  more  of  sleep, 
But  cares,  suspicions  in  their  stead, 
And  false  alarms,  by  fancy  fed. 

His  eyes  and  ears  their  vigils  keep, 

And  not  a  cat  can  tread  the  floor 

But  seems  a  thief  slipped  through  the  door. 
At  last,  poor  man  ! 
Up  to  the  financier  he  ran,  — 

Then  in  his  morning  nap  profound : 
O,  give  me  back  my  songs,  cried  he, 
And  sleep,  that  used  so  sweet  to  be, 

And  take  the  money,  every  pound! 


J) 

THE  LION.  THE  WOLR  AND  THE  FOX 

A  lion,  old  and  impotent  with  gout, 
Would  have  some  cure  for  age  found  out. 
Impossibilities,  on  all  occasions, 
With  kings,  are  rank  abominations. 
This  king,  from  every  species,  — 

For  each  abounds  in  every  sort,  — 
Called  to  his  aid  the  leeches. 

They  came  in  throngs  to  court, 
From  doctors  of  the  highest  fee 
To  nostrum-quacks  without  degree,  — 
Advised,  prescribed,  talked  learnedly  ; 

But  with  the  rest 
Came  not  Sir  Cunning  Fox,  M.  D. 
Sir  Wolf  the  royal  couch  attended, 

And  his  suspicions  there  expressed. 
Forthwith  his  majesty,  offended, 
Resolved  Sir  Cunning  Fox  should  come, 
And  sent  to  smoke  him  from  his  home. 
He  came,  was  duly  ushered  in, 
And,  knowing  where  Sir  Wolf  had  been, 
Said,  Sire,  your  royal  ear 
Has  been  abused,  I  fear, 


g4  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

By  rumors  false  and  insincere ; 
To  wit,  that  I've  been  self-exempt 
From  coming  here,  through  sheer  contempt. 
But,  sire,  I've  been  on  pilgrimage, 

By  vow  expressly  made, 

Your  royal  health  to  aid, 
And,  on  my  way,  met  doctors  sage, 
In  skill  the  wonder  of  the  age, 

Whom  carefully  I  did  consult 

About  that  great  debility 

Termed  in  the  books  senility, 
Of  which  you  fear,  with  reason,  the  result. 
You  lack,  they  say,  the  vital  heat, 
By  age  extreme  become  effete. 
Drawn  from  a  living  wolf,  the  hide 
Should  warm  and  smoking  be  applied. 
The  secret's  good,  beyond  a  doubt, 
For  nature's  weak,  and  wearing  out. 
Sir  Wolf,  here,  won't  refuse  to  give 
His  hide  to  cure  you,  as  I  live. 
The  king  was  pleased  with  this  advice. 
Flayed,  jointed,  served  up  in  a  trice, 
Sir  Wolf  first  wrapped  the  monarch  up, 
Then  furnished  him  whereon  to  sup. 

Beware,  ye  courtiers,  lest  ye  gain, 
By  slander's  arts,  less  power  than  pain  ; 
For  in  the  world  where  ye  are  living, 
A  pardon  no  one  thinks  of  giving. 


THE  WOMEN   AND  THE  SECRET. 

There's  nothing  like  a  secret  weighs ; 

Too  heavy  'tis  for  women  tender ; 
And,  for  this  matter,  in  my  days, 

I've  seen  some  men  of  female  gender. 

To  prove  his  wife,  a  husband  cried, 
(The  night,  he  knew,  the  truth  would  hide,) 
O  Heavens  !  what's  this  ?  O  dear  —  1  beg  — 
I'm  torn  —  O  !  O  !  I've  laid  an  e^  ! 
An  egg  ?     Why,  yes,  it's  gospel-true. 
Look  here  —  see  —  feel  it,  fresh  and  new  ; 
But,  wife,  don't  mention  it,  lest  men 
Should  laugh  at  me,  and  call  me  hen ; 

Indeed,  don't  say  a  word  about  it. 
On  this,  as  other  matters,  green  and  young, 

The  wife,  all  wonder,  did  not  doubt  it, 
And  pledged  herself  by  Heaven  to  hold  her  tongue. 
Her  oath,  however,  fled  the  light 
As  quick  as  did  the  shades  of  night. 


66  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Before  Dan  Phoebus  waked  to  labor, 
The  dame  was  off  to  see  a  neighbor. 
My  friend,  she  said,  half  whispering, 
There's  come  to  pass  the  strangest  thing  — 
If  you  should  tell,  'twould  turn  me  out  of  door  : 
My  husband's  laid  an  egg  as  big  as  four ! 
As  you  would  taste  of  heaven's  bliss, 
Don't  tell  a  living  soul  of  this. 
I  tell !  why,  if  you  knew  a  thing  about  me, 
You  wouldn't  for  an  instant  doubt  me  ; 

Your  confidence  I'll  ne'er  abuse. 
The  layer's  wife  went  home  relieved  ; 

The  other  broiled  to  tell  the  news ; 
You  need  not  ask  if  she  believed. 
A  dame  more  busy  could  not  be ; 
In  twenty  places,  ere  her  tea, 
Instead  of  one  egg,  she  said  three ! 

Nor  was  the  story  finished  here  : 
A  gossip,  still  more  keen  than  she, 

Said  four,  and  spoke  it  in  the'  ear — 
A  caution  truly  little  worth, 
Applied  to  all  the  ears  on  earth. 
Of  eggs  the  number,  thanks  to  Fame, 

As  on  from  mouth  to  mouth  she  sped, 

Had  grown  a  hundred,  soothly  said, 
Ere  Sol  had  quenched  his  golden  flame ! 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  67 


THE  DOG  THAT  CARRIED  HIS  MASTER'S  DINNER. 

Our  eyes  are  not  made  proof  against  the  fair, 
Nor  hands  against  the  touch  of  gold. 

Fidelity  is  sadly  rare, 
And  has  been  from  the  days  of  old. 

Well  taught  his  appetite  to  check, 
And  do  full  many  a  handy  trick, 
A  dog  was  trotting  light  and  quick, 

His  master's  dinner  on  his  neck. 
A  temperate,  self-denying  dog  was  he, 
More  than  with  such  a  load  he  liked  to  be. 
But  still  he  was,  while  many  such  as  we 
Would  not  have  scrupled  to  make  free. 
Strange  that  to  dogs  a  virtue  you  may  teach, 
Which,  do  your  best,  to  men  you  vainly  preach ! 
This  dog  of  ours,  thus  richly  fitted  out, 
A  mastiff  met,  who  wished  the  meat,  no  doubt. 
To  get  it  was  less  easy  than  he  thought ; 

The  porter  laid  it  down,  and  fought. 

Meantime  some  other  dogs  arrive  :  — 

Such  dogs  are  always  thick  enough, 

And,  fearing  neither  kick  nor  cuff, 
Upon  the  public  thrive. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Our  hero,  thus  d'ermatched  and  pressed,  - 

The  meat  in  danger  manifest,  — 

Is  fain  to  share  it  with  the  rest ; 

And,  looking  very  calm  and  wise, 

No  anger,  gentlemen,  he  cries  : 

My  morsel  will  myself  suffice  ; 

The  rest  shall  be  your  welcome  prize. 

With  this,  the  first  his  charge  to  violate, 

He  snaps  a  mouthful  from  his  freight. 

Then  follow  mastiff,  cur,  and  pup, 

Till  all  is  cleanly  eaten  up. 

Not  sparingly  the  party  feasted, 

And  not  a  dog  of  all  but  tasted. 

In  some  such  manner  men  abuse 
Of  towns  and  states  the  revenues. 
The  sheriffs,  aldermen,  and  mayor, 
Come  in  for  each  a  liberal  share. 
The  strongest  gives  the  rest  example : 
'Tis  sport  to  see  with  what  a  zest 
They  sweep  and  lick  the  public  chest 
Of  all  its  funds,  however  ample, 
[f  any  common  weal's  defender 
Should  dare  to  say  a  single  word, 
He's  shown  his  scruples  are  absurd, 
And  finds  it  easy  to  surrender  — 
Perhaps,  to  be  the  first  offender. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  JOKER  AND  THE  FISHES. 

Some  seek  for  jokers  ;  I  avoid. 
A  joke  must  be,  to  be  enjoyed, 
Of  wisdom's  words,  bj  wit  employed. 
God  never  meant  for  men  of  sense, 
The  wits  that  joke  to  give  offence. 

Perchance  of  these  I  shall  be  able 

To  show  you  one  preserved  in  fable. 

A  joker,  at  a  banker's  table, 

Most  amply  spread  to  satisfy 

The  height  of  Epicurean  wishes, 
Had  nothing  near  but  little  fishes. 

So,  taking  several  of  the  fry, 

He  whispered  to  them  very  nigh, 

And  seemed  to  listen  for  reply. 

The  guests  much  wondered  what  it  meant, 

And  stared  upon  him  all  intent. 

The  joker,  then,  with  sober  face, 

Politely  thus  explained  the  case  :  — - 

A  friend  of  mine,  to  India  bound, 
Has  been,  I  fear, 
Within  a  year, 

By  rocks  or  tempests  wrecked  and  drowned. 

I  asked  these  strangers  from  the  sea 

To  tell  me  where  my  friend  might  be. 


70  LA  FOXTAIXE'S  FABLES. 

But  all  replied  they  were  too  young 
To  know  the  least  of  such  a  matter  — 
The  older  fish  could  tell  me  better. 

Pray,  may  I  hear  some  older  tongue  ? 
What  relish  had  the  gentlefolks 
For  such  a  sample  of  his  jokes, 
Is  more  than  I  can  now  relate. 
They  put,  I'm  sure,  upon  his  plate, 
A  monster  of  so  old  a  date, 
He  must  have  known  the  names  and  fate 
Of  all  the  daring  voyagers, 
Who,  following  the  moon  and  stars, 
Have,  by  mischances,  sunk  their  bones 
Within  the  realms  of  Davy  Jones  ; 
And  who,  for  centuries,  had  seen, 
Far  down  within  the  fathomless, 
Where  whales  themselves  are  sceptreless. 
The  ancients  in  their  halls  of  green. 


A   , 


THE    RAT    AND    THE    OYSTER. 


A  country  rat,  of  little  brains, 

Grown  weary  of  inglorious  rest, 
Left  home,  with  all  its  straws  and  grains. 

Resolved  to  know  beyond  his  nest. 
When  peeping  through  the  nearest  fence, 
How  big  the  world  is!  how  immense! 
He  cried  ;  there  rise  the  Alps,  and  that 
Is  doubtless  famous  Ararat. 
His  mountains  were  the  works  of  moles, 
Or  dirt  thrown  up  in  digging  holes! 
Some  days  of  travel  brought  him  where 
The  tide  had  left  the  oysters  bare. 
Since  here  our  traveller  saw  the  sea, 
He  thought  these  shells  the  ships  must  be. 
My  father  was,  in  truth,  said  he, 

A  coward  and  an  ignoramus; 
He  dared  not  travel:   as  for  me, 

I've  seen  the  ships  and  ocean  famous ; 

Have  crossed  the  deserts  without  drinking, 

And  many  dangerous  streams,  unshrinking; 

Such  things  I  know  from  having  seen  and  felt  them. 

And,  as  he  went,  in  tales  he  proudly  dealt  them, 


72  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Not.  being  of  those  rats  whose  knowledge 
Comes  by  their  teeth  on  books  in  college. 
Among  the  shut-up  shell-fish,  one 
Was  gaping  widely  at  the  sun  ; 
It  breathed,  and  drank  the  air's  perfume. 
Expanding  like  a  flower  in  bloom. 

Both  white  and  fat,  its  meat 

Appeared  a  dainty  treat. 
Our  rat,  when  he  this  shell  espied, 
Thought  for  his  stomach  to  provide. 
If  not  mistaken  in  the  matter, 
Said  he,  no  meat  was  ever  fatter, 
Or  in  its  flavor  half  so  fine, 
As  that  on  which  to-day  I  dine. 
Thus  full  of  hope,  the  foolish  chap 

Thrust  in  his  head  to  taste, 
And  felt  the  pinching  of  a  trap  — 

The  oyster  closed  in  haste. 

We're  first  instructed,  by  this  case, 
That  those  to  whom  the  world  is  new 
Are  wonder-struck  at  every  view; 

And,  in  the  second  place, 
That  the  marauder  finds  his  match, 
And  he  is  caught  who  thinks  to  catch. 


THE    LION    AND    THE    HUNTER. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  73 


THE    BEAK    AND    THE    AMATEUR    GARDENER. 

A  certain  mountain  bear,  unlicked  and  rude, 

By  fate  confined  within  a  lonely  wood,  — 

A  new  Bellerophon,  whose  life, 

Knew  neither  comrade,  friend,  nor  wife, — 

Became  insane;  for  reason,  as  we  term  it, 

Dwells  never  long  with  any  hermit. 

5Tis  good  to  mix  in  good  society, 

Obeying  rules  of  due  propriety; 

And  better  yet  to  be  alone  ; 

But  both  arc  ills  when  overdone. 

No  animal  had  business  where 

All  grimly  dwelt  our  hermit  bear; 

Hence,  bearish  as  he  was,  he  grew 

Heart-sick,  and  longed  for  something  new. 

While  he  to  sadness  was  addicted, 
An  aged  man,  not  far  from  there, 

Was  by  the  same  disease  afflicted. 
A  garden  was  his  favorite  care,  — 
Sweet  Flora's  priesthood,  light  and  fair, 

And  eke  Pomona's  —  ripe  and  red 

The  presents  that  her  fingers  shed. 

These  two  employments,  true,  are  sweet, 

When  made  so  by  some  friend  discreet, 


74  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  gardens,  gayly  as  they  look, 
Talk  not,  (except  in  this  my  book ;) 
So,  tiring  of  the  deaf  and  dumb, 
Our  man  one  morning  left  his  home 
Some  company  to  seek, 
That  had  the  power  to  speak.  — 
The  bear,  with  thoughts  the*  same, 
Down  from  his  mountain  came  ; 
And  in  a  solitary  place, 
They  met  each  other  face  to  face. 
It  would  have  made  the  boldest  tremble; 
What  did  our  man  ?     To  play  the  Gascon 
The  safest  seemed.     He  put  the  mask  on, 
His  fear  contriving  to  dissemble. 
The  bear,  unused  to  compliment, 
Growled  bluntly,  but  with  good  intent :  — 
Come  home  with  me.     The  man  replied, 
Sir  Bear,  my  lodgings,  nearer  by, 
In  yonder  garden,  you  may  spy, 
Where,  if  you'll  honor  me  the  while, 
We'll  break  our  fast  in  rural  style. 
I've  fruits  and  milk, — unworthy  fare, 
It  may  be,  for  a  wealthy  bear : 
But  then  I  offer  what  I  have. 
The  bear  accepts  with  visage  grave, 
But  not  unpleased;  and,  on  their  way, 
They  grow  familiar,  friendly,  gay. 
Arrived,  you  see  them  side  by  side, 
As  if  their  friendship  had  been  tried 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  75 

To  a  companion  so  absurd, 
Blank  solitude  were  well  preferred ; 
Yet,  as  the  bear  scarce  spoke  a  word, 
The  man  was  left  quite  at  his  leisure 
To  trim  his  garden  at  his  pleasure. 
Sir  Bruin  hunted  —  always  brought 
His  friend  whatever  game  he  caught ; 
But  chiefly  aimed  at  driving  flies  — 
Those  bold  and  shameless  parasites, 
That  vex  us  with  their  ceaseless  bites  — 
From  off  our  gard'ner's  face  and  eyes. 
One  day,  while,  stretched  upon  the  ground. 
The  old  man  lay  in  sleep  profound, 
A  fly,  that  buzzed  around  his  nose,  — 
And  bit  it  sometimes,  I  suppose,  — 
Put  Bruin  sadly  to  his  trumps. 
At  last,  determined,  up  he  jumps  :  — 
I'll  stop  thy  noisy  buzzing  now, 
Says  he  ;  I  know  precisely  how. 
No  sooner  said  than  done. 
He  seized  a  paving-stone ; 
And  by  his  modus  operandi 
Did  both  the  fly  and  man  die. 

A  foolish  friend  may  cause  more  woe 
Than  could,  indeed,  the  wisest  foe. 


THE  TWO  FRIENDS. 


'Two  friends,  in  Monomotapa, 

Had  all  their  interests  combined. 

Their  friendship,  faithful  and  refined, 
Our  country  can't  exceed,  do  what  it  may. 

One  night,  when  potent  Sleep  had  laid 

All  still  within  our  planet's  shade, 

One  of  the  two  gets  up,  alarmed, 
Runs  over  to  the  other's  palace, 
And  hastily  the  servants  rallies. 

His  startled  friend,  quick  armed, 
With  purse  and  sword  his  comrade  meets, 
And  thus  right  kindly  greets  :  — 

Thou  seldom  com'st  at  such  an  hour  ; 
I  take  thee  for  a  man  of  sounder  mind 
Than  to  abuse  the  time  for  sleep  designed. 

Hast  lost  thy  purse  by  Fortune's  power  ? 
Here's  mine.     Hast  suffered  insult,  or  a  blow  ? 
I've  here  my  sword  —  to  avenge  it  let  us  go. 

No,  said  his  friend,  no  need  I  feel 

Of  either  silver,  gold,  or  steel ; 

I  thank  thee  for  thy  friendly  zeal. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  77 

In  sleep  I  saw  thee  rather  sad, 

And  thought  the  truth  might  be  as  bad; 

Unable  to  endure  my  fear, 

That  eursed  dream  has  brought  me  here. 

Which  think  you,  reader,  loved  the  most  ? 
If  doubtful  this,  one  truth  may  be  proposed: 
There's  nothing  sweeter  than  a  real  friend  : 
Not  only  is  he  prompt  to  lend  — 
An  angler  delicate,  he  fishes 
The  very  deepest  of  your  wishes. 
And  spares  your  modesty  the  task 
His  friendly  aid  to  ask. 
A  dream,  a  shadow,  wakes  his  fear, 
When  pointing  at  the  object  dear. 


THE  HOG,  THE  GOAT,  AND  THE  SHEEP. 

A  goat,  a  sheep,  and  porker  fat, 
All  to  the  market  rode  together. 

Their  own  amusement  was  not  that 
Which  caused  their  journey  thither. 
Their  coachman  did  not  mean  to  "set  them  down" 
To  see  the  shows  and  wonders  of  the  town. 

The  porker  cried,  in  piercing  squeals, 

As  if  with  butchers  at  his  heels. 

The  other  beasts,  of  milder  mood, 

The  cause  by  no  means  understood. 

They  saw  no  harm,  and  wondered  why 

At  such  a  rate  the  hog  should  cry. 

Hush  there,  old  piggy,  said  the  man, 

And  keep  as  quiet  as  you  can. 

What  wrongjiave  you  to  squeal  about, 

And  raise  this  devilish,  deafening  shout  ? 

These  stiller  persons  at  your  side 

Have  manners  much  more  dignified. 
Pray,  ha^e  you  heard 
A  single  word 

Come  from  that  gentleman  in  wool  ? 

That  proves  him  wise.     It  proves  him  fool, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


79 


The  testy  hog  replied; 

For  did  he  know 

To  what  we  go, 
He'd  cry  almost  to  split  his  throat; 
So  would  her  ladyship  the  goat. 
They  only  think  to  lose  with  ease, 
The  goat  her  milk,  the  sheep  his  fleece : 
They're,  may  be,  right ;  but  as  for  me, 
This  ride  is  quite  another  matter. 
Of  service  only  on  the  platter, 
My  death  is  quite  a  certainty. 
Adieu,  my  dear  old  piggery ! 
The  porker's  logic  proved  at  once 
Himself  a  prophet  and  a  dunce. 


Hope  ever  gives  a  present  ease, 

But  fear  beforehand  kills  : 
The  wisest  he  who  least  foresees 
Inevitable  ills. 


V 


80  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THYRSIS  AND   AMARANTH. 

FOR    MADEMOISELLE    DE    SILLERY. 

1  had  the  Phrygian  quit, 
Charmed  with  Italian  wit ;  * 
But  a  divinity 
Would  on  Parnassus  see 
A  fable  more  from  me. 
Such  challenge  to  refuse, 
Without  a  good  excuse, 
Is  not  the  way  to  use 
Divinity  or  muse. 

Especially  to  one 
Of  those  who  truly  are. 
By  force  of  being  fair, 
Made  queens  of  human  will, 

A  thing  should  not  be  done 
In  all  respects  so  ill. 
For,  be  it  known  to  all, 
From  Sillery  the  call 
Has  come  for  bird,  and  beast, 
And  insects,  to  the  least, 

*  Referring  to  his  Tales,  in  which  he  had  borrowed  many  subjects 
from  Boccaccio. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  gl 

To  clothe  their  thoughts  sublime 

In  this  my  simple  rhyme. 

In  saying  Sillery, 

All's  said  that  need  to  be. 

Her  claim  to  it  so  good, 

Few  fail  to  give  her  place 

Above  the  human  race  : 
How  could  they,  if  they  would  ? 

Now  come  we  to  our  end :  — 

As  she  opines,  my  tales 
Are  hard  to  comprehend  ; 

For  even  genius  fails 
Some  things  to  understand  ; 
So  let  us  take  in  hand 
To  make  unnecessary, 
For  once,  a  commentary. 
Come  shepherds  now,  —  and  rhyme  we  afterwards 
The  talk  between  the  wolves  and  fleecy  herds. 

To  Amaranth,  the  young  and  fair, 
Said  Thyrsis,  once,  with  serious  air, — 
O,  if  you  knew,  like  me,  a  certain  ill 
With  which  we  men  are  harmed, 
As  well  as  strangely  charmed, 
No  boon  from  Heaven  your  heart  could  like  it  fill ! 
Please  let  me  name  it  in  your  ear,  — 
A  harmless  word,  —  you  need  not  fear. 
Would  I  deceive  you  ?  you,  for  whom  I  bear 
The  tenderest  sentiments  that  ever  were  ? 


82  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Then  Amaranth  replied, 
What  is  its  name  ?     I  beg  you,  do  not  hide. 
Tis  love.  —  The  word  is  beautiful;  reveal 
Its  signs  and  symptoms,  how  it  makes  one  feel.  — 
Its  pains  are  ecstasies.     So  sweet  its  stings, 
The  nectar-cups  and  incense-pots  of  kings, 
Compared,  are  flat,  insipid  tilings. 
One  strays  all  lonely  in  the  wood  — 
Leans  silent  o'er  the  placid  flood, 
And  there,  with  great  complacency, 
A  certain  face  can  see  — 
'Tis  not  one's  own  —  but  image  fair, 
Retreating, 
Fleeting, 
Meeting, 
Greeting, 
Following  every  Avhere. 
For  all  the  rest  of  human  kind, 
One  is  as  good,  in  short,  as  blind. 
There  is  a  shepherd  wight,  I  ween, 
Well  known  upon  the  village  green, 
Whose  voice,  whose  name,  whose  turning  of  the  hinge 
Excites  upon  the  cheek  a  richer  tinge  — 
The  thought  of  whom  is  signal  for  a  sigh  — 
The  breast  that  heaves  it  knows  not  why  — 
Whose  face  the  maiden  fears  to  see, 
Yet  none  so  welcome  still  as  he.  — 
Here  Amaranth  cut  short  his  speech : 
O  !  O  !  is  that  the  evil  which  you  preach  ? 


LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

To  me,  I  think,  it  is  no  stranger, 
I  must  have  felt  its  power  and  danger. 
Here  Thjrsis  thought  his  end  was  gained, 
When  further,  thus,  the  maid  explained : 
'Tis  just  the  very  sentiment 
Which  I  have  felt  for  Clidamant ! 
The  other,  vexed  and  mortified, 
Now  bit  his  lips,  and  nearly  died. 

Like  him  are  multitudes,  who,  when 

Their  own  advancement  they  have  meant, 

Have  played  the  game  of  other  men. 


83 


THE   FROG   THAT    WISHED   TO   BE   AS   BIG 
AS   THE   OX. 

The  tenant  of  a  bog, 
An  envious  little  frog, 
Not  bigger  than  an  eg<£, 
A  stately  bullock  spies, 
And,  smitten  with  his  size, 
Attempts  to  be  as  big. 
With  earnestness  and  pains, 
She  stretches,  swells,  and  strains, 
And  says,  Sis  Frog,  look  here  !  see  me  ! 
Is  this  enough  ?     No,  no. 
Well,  then,  is  this?     Poh  !   poh  ! 
Enough  !  you  don't  begin  to  be. 
And  thus  the  reptile  sits, 
Enlarging  till  she  splits. 
The  world  abounds  in  people  not  more  wTise ; 
The  village  mansion  with  the  palace  vies  ; 
The  little  princes  ape  the  great ; 
The  gentry  live  in  princely  state  ; 
And,  really,  there  is  no  telling 
How  much  great  men  set  little  ones  a  swelling. 


THE  HORSE  WISHING  TO  BE  REVENGED   UPON 
THE  STAG. 


The  horses  have  not  always  been 

The  humble  slaves  of  men. 

When,  in  the  far-off  past, 
The  fare  of  gentlemen  was  mast, 
And  even  hats  were  never  felt, 
Horse,  ass,  and  mule  in  forests  dwelt. 
Nor  saw  one  then,  as  in  these  ages, 

So  many  saddles,  housings,  pillions  ■ 
Such  splendid  equipages, 

With  golden-lace  postilions  ; 
Such  harnesses  for  cattle, 
To  be  consumed  in  battle ; 
As  one  saw  not  so  many  feasts, 
And  people  married  by  the  priests. 
The  horse  fell  out,  within  that  space, 

With  the  antlered  stag,  so  fleetly  made 
He  could  not  catch  him  in  a  race, 

And  so  he  came  to  man  for  aid. 


86  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Man  first  his  suppliant  bitted; 
Then,  on  his  back  well  seated, 
Gave  chase  with  spear,  and  rested  not 
Till  to  the  ground  the  foe  he  brought. 
This  done,  the  honest  horse,  quite  blindly, 
Thus  thanked  his  benefactor  kindly  :  — 
Dear  sir,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you ; 
I'll  back  to  savage  life.     Adieu  ! 
O,  no,  the  man  replied; 
You'd  better  here  abide  ; 
I  know  too  well  your  use. 
Here,  free  from  all  abuse, 
Remain  a  liege  to  me, 
And  large  your  provender  shall  be 
Alas  !  good  housing  or  good  cheer, 
That  costs  one's  liberty,  is  dear. 
The  horse  his  folly  now  perceived, 
But  quite  too  late  he  grieved. 
No  grief  his  fate  could  alter ; 
His  stall  was  built,  and  there  he  lived, 
And  died  there  in  his  halter. 
Ah  !  wise,  had  he  one  small  offence  forgot ! 
Revenge,  however  sweet,  is  dearly  bought 
By  that  one  good,  which  gone,  all  else  is  nought. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  87 


»1 

THE  FUNERAL  OF  THE   LIONESS. 

The  lion's  consort  died  : 
Crowds,  gathered  at  his  side, 
Must  needs  console  the  prince, 
And  thus  their  loyalty  evince 
By  compliments  of  course, 
Which  make  affliction  worse. 
Officially  he  cites 
His  realm  to  funeral  rites, 
At  such  a  time  and  place ; 
His  marshals  of  the  mace 
Would  order  the  affair. 
Judge  you  if  all  came  there. 
Meantime,  the  prince  gave  way 
To  sorrow,  night  and  day. 
With  cries  of  wild  lament 
His  cave  he  well  nigh  rent. 
And  from  his  courtiers,  far  and  near, 
Sounds  imitative  you  might  hear. 

The  court  a  country  seems  to  me, 
Whose  people  are  no  matter  what, — 
Sad,  gay,  indifferent,  or  not,  — 

As  suits  the  will  of  majesty ; 

Or,  if  unable  so  to  be. 


88  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Their  task  it  is  to  seem  it  all  — 
Chameleons,  monkeys,  great  and  small. 
'Twould  seem  one  spirit  serves  a  thousand  bodies  - 
A  paradise,  indeed,  for  soulless  noddies. 

But  to  our  tale  again  : 
The  stag  graced  not  the  funeral  train; 
Of  tears  his  cheeks  bore  not  a  stain ; 
For  how  could  such  a  thing  have  been, 
When  death  avenged  him  on  the  queen, 
Who,  not  content  with  taking  one, 
Had  choked  to  death  his  wife  and  son  ? 
The  tears,  in  truth,  refused  to  run. 
A  ilatterer,  who  watched  the  while. 
Affirmed  that  he  had  seen  him  smile. 
If,  as  the  wise  man  somewhere  saith, 
A  king's  is  like  a  lion's  wrath, 
What  should  King  Lion's  be  but  death  ? 
The  stag,  however,  could  not  read ; 
Hence  paid  this  proverb  little  heed, 
And  walked,  intrepid,  towards  the  throne ; 
When  thus  the  king,  in  fearful  tone :  — 

Thou  caitiff  of  the  wood ! 
Presum'st  to  laugh  at  such  a  time  ? 
Joins  not  thy  voice  the  mournful  chime  ? 

We  suffer  not  the  blood 
Of  such  a  wretch  profane 
Our  sacred  claws  to  stain. 
Wolves,  let  a  sacrifice  be  made , 
Avenge  your  mistress'  awful  shade. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Sire,  did  the  stag  reply, 
The  time  for  tears  is  quite  gone  by ; 
For  in  the  flowers,  not  far  from  here, 
Your  worthy  consort  did  appear ; 
Her  form,  in  spite  of  my  surprise, 
I  could  not  fail  to  recognize. 

My  friend,  said  she,  beware 
Lest  funeral  pomp  about  my  bier, 

When  I  shall  go  with  gods  to  share, 
Compel  thine  eye  to  drop  a  tear. 

With  kindred  saints  I  rove 

In  the  Elysian  grove, 

And  taste  a  sort  of  bliss 

Unknown  in  worlds  like  this. 
Still,  let  the  royal  sorrow  flow 
I  ts  proper  season  here  below ; 

'Tis  not  un pleasing,  1  confess. 
The  king  and  court  scarce  hear  him  out. 
Up  goes  the  loud  and  welcome  shout  — 
A  miracle  !  an  apotheosis  ! 
And  such  at  once  the  fashion  is. 
So  far  from  dying  in  a  ditch, 
The  stag  retires  with  presents  rich. 

Amuse  the  ear  of  royalty 
With  pleasant  dreams  and  flattery, — 
No  matter  what  you  may  have  done, 
Nor  yet  how  high  its  wrath  may  run, — 
The  bait  is  swallowed  —  ohject  won. 


THE  HOROSCOPE. 


On  death  we  mortals  often  run, 
Just  by  the  roads  we  take  to  shun. 

A  father's  only  heir,  a  son, 

Was  over-loved  and  doted  on 

So  greatly,  that  astrology 

Was  questioned  what  his  fate  might  be. 

The  man  of  stars  this  eaution  gave  — 

That,  until  twenty  years  of  age, 

No  lion,  even  in  a  eage, 
The  boy  should  see,  —  his  life  to  save. 
The  sire,  to  silence  every  fear 
About  a  life  so  very  dear, 
Forbade  that  any  one  should  let 
His  son  beyond  his  threshold  get. 
Within  his  palace  walls,  the  boy 
Might  all  that  heart  could  wish  enjoy — 
Might  with  his  mates  walk,  leap,  and  run, 
And  frolic  in  the  wildest  fun. 
When  come  of  age  to  love  the  chase, 

That  exercise  was  oft  depicted 
To  him  as  one  that  brought  disgrace, 

To  which  but  blackguards  were  addicted. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  91 

But  neither  warning  nor  derision 
Could  change  his  ardent  disposition. 
The  youth,  fierce,  restless,  full  of  blood, 
Was  prompted  by  the  boiling  flood 
To  love  the  dangers  of  the  wood. 
The  more  opposed,  the  stronger  grew 
His  mad  desire.     The  cause  he  knew 
For  which  he  was  so  closely  pent ; 

And  as,  where'er  he  went, 
In  that  magnificent  abode, 
Both  tapestry  and  canvass  showed 
The  feats  he  did  so  much  admire, 
A  painted  lion  roused  his  ire. 
Ab,  monster !  cried  he,  in  his  rage, 
'Tis  you  that  keep  me  in  my  cage. 

With  that,  he  clinched  his  fist, 

To  strike  the  harmless  beast  — 

And  did  his  hand  empale 

Upon  a  hidden  nail ! 

And  thus  this  cherished  head, 

For  which  the  healing  art 

But  vainly  did  its  part, 
Was  hurried  to  the  dead 

By  caution  blindly  meant 

To  shun  that  sad  event. 

The  poet  iEschylus,  'tis  said, 

By  much  the  same  precaution  bled. 

A  conjurer  foretold 
A  house  would  crush  him  in  its  fall ;  — 


92  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Forth  sallied  he,  though  old, 
From  town  and  roof-protected  hall, 
And  took  his  lodgings,  wet  or  dry, 
Abroad,  beneath  the  open  sky. 
An  eagle,  bearing  through  the  air 
A  tortoise  for  her  household  fare, 
Which  first  she  wished  to  break, 
The  creature  dropped,  by  sad  mistake, 

Plump  on  the  poet's  forehead  bare, 
As  if  it  were  a  naked  rock  — 
To  iEschylus  a  fatal  shock ! 

From  these  examples,  it  appears, 
This  art,  if  true  in  any  wise, 

Makes  men  fulfil  the  very  fears 
Engendered  by  its  prophecies. 
But  from  this  charge  I  justify, 
By  branding  it  a  total  lie. 
I  don't  believe  that  Nature's  powers 
Have  tied  her  hands,  or  pinioned  ours, 
By  marking  on  the  heavenly  vault 
Our  fate,  without  mistake  or  fault. 
That  fate  depends  upon  conjunctions 
Of  places,  persons,  times,  and  tracks, 

And  not  upon  the  functions 
Of  more  or  less  of  quacks. 
A  king  and  clown  beneath  one  planet's  nod 
Are  born ;  one  wields  a  sceptre,  one  a  hod. 
But  it  is  Jupiter  that  wills  it  so ! 

And  who  is  he  ?     A  soulless  clod. 


LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  93 

How  can  he  cause  such  different  powers  to  flow 
U  pon  the  aforesaid  mortals  here  below  ? 
And  how,  indeed,  to  this  far  distant  ball 
Can  he  impart  his  energy  at  all  ?  — 
How  pierce  the  ether  deeps  profound, 
The  sun,  and  globes  that  whirl  around  ? 
A  mote  might  turn  his  potent  ray 
Forever  from  its  earthward  way. 
Will  find  it,  then,  in  starry  cope, 
The  makers  of  the  horoscope  ? 
The  war  with  which  all  Europe's  now  afflicted  — 
Deserves  it  not  by  them  toVe  been  predicted  ? 
Yet  heard  we  not  a  whisper  of  it, 
Before  it  came,  from  any  prophet. 
The  suddenness  of  passion's  gush, 
Of  wayward  life  the  headlong  rush,  — 
Permit  they  that  the  feeble  ray 
Of  twinkling  planet,  far  away, 
Should  trace  our  winding,  zigzag  course  ? 
And  yet  this  planetary  force, 
As  steady  as  it  is  unknown, 
These  fools  would  make  our  guide  alone  — 
Of  all  our  varied  life  the  source ! 
Such  doubtful  facts  as  I  relate  — 
The  petted  child's  and  poet's  fate  — 
Our  argument  may  well  admit. 

The  blindest  man  that  lives  in  France 
The  smallest  mark  would  doubtless  hit  — 
Once  in  a  thousand  times  —  by  chance. 


THE   ASS   AND   THE   DOG. 

Dame  Nature,  our  respected  mother, 
Ordains  that  we  should  aid  each  other. 

The  ass  this  ordinance  neglected, 
Though  not  a  creature  ill-affected. 
Alon£  the  road  a  do£  and  he 
One  master  followed  silently. 
Their  master  slept :  meanwhile,  the  ass 
Applied  his  nippers  to  the  grass, 
Much  pleased  in  such  a  place  to  stop, 
Though  there  no  thistle  he  could  crop. 
He  would  not  be  too  delicate, 
Nor  spoil  a  dinner  for  a  plate, 
Which,  but  for  that,  his  favorite  dish, 
Were  all  that  any  ass  could  wish. 

My  dear  companion,  Towser  said,  — ■ 
'Tis  as  a  starving  dog  I  ask  it, — 
Pray  lower  down  your  loaded  basket, 

And  let  me  get  a  piece  of  bread. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  95 

No  answer  —  not  a  word !  —  indeed, 
The  truth  was,  our  Arcadian  steed 
Feared  lest,  for  every  moment's  flight, 
His  nimble  teeth  should  lose  a  bite. 
At  last,  I  counsel  you,  said  he,  to  wait 

Till  master  is  himself  awake, 

Who  then,  unless  I  much  mistake, 
Will  give  his  dog  the  usual  bait. 
Meanwhile,  there  issued  from  the  wood 
A  creature  of  the  wolfish  brood, 
Himself  by  famine  sorely  pinched. 
At  sight  of  him,  the  donkey  flinched, 
And  begged  the  dog  to  give  him  aid. 
The  dog  budged  not,  but  answer  made, — 
I  counsel  thee,  my  friend,  to  run, 
Till  master's  nap  is  fairly  done ; 
There  can,  indeed,  be  no  mistake, 
That  he  will  very  soon  awake ; 
Till  then,  scud  off  with  all  your  might ; 
And  should  he  snap  you,  in  your  flight, 
This  ugly  wolf — why,  let  him  feel 
The  greeting  of  your  well-shod  heel. 
I  do  not  doubt,  at  all,  but  that 
Will  be  enough  to  lay  him  flat. 

But  ere  he  ceased,  it  was  too  late; 

The  ass  had  met  his  cruel  fate. 

Thus  selfishness  we  reprobate. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  P  ASH  AW  AND   THE  MERCHANT. 

A  trading  Greek,  for  want  of  law, 
Protection  bought  of  a  pashaw  ; 
And  like  a  nobleman  he  paid, 
Much  rather  than  a  man  of  trade  — - 
Protection  being,  Turkish-wise, 
A  costly  sort  of  merchandise. 
So  costly  was  it,  in  this  case, 
The  Greek  complained,  with  tongue  and  face. 

Three  other  Turks,  of  lower  rank, 
Would  guard  his  substance  as  their  own, 

And  all  draw  less  upon  his  bank, 
Than  did  the  great  pashaw  alone. 
The  Greek  their  offer  gladly  heard, 
And  closed  the  bargain,  with  a  word. 
The  said  pashaw  was  made  aware, 
And  counseled,  with  a  prudent  care, 
These  rivals  to  anticipate, 
By  sending  them  to  heaven's  gate, 
As  messengers  to  Mahomet  — 
Which  measure  should  he  much  delay, 
Himself  might  go  the  self-same  way, 
By  poison  offered  secretly, 
Sent  on,  before  his  time,  to  be 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  97 

Protector  to  such  arts  and  trades 
As  flourish  in  the  world  of  shades. 
On  this  advice,  the  Turk  —  no  gander  — 
Behaved  himself  like  Alexander.* 
Straight  to  the  merchant's,  firm  and  stable, 
He  went,  and  took  a  seat  at  table. 
Such  calm  assurance  there  was  seen, 
Both  in  his  words  and  in  his  mien, 
That  e'en  that  weasel-sighted  Grecian 
Could  not  suspect  him  of  suspicion. 
My  friend,  said  he,  1  know  you've  quit  me, 
And  some  think  caution  would  befit  me, 
Lest  to  despatch  me  be  your  plan : 
But,  deeming  you  too  good  a  man 
To  injure  either  friends  or  foes 
With  poisoned  cups  or  secret  blows, 
I  drown  the  thought,  and  say  no  more. 
But,  as  regards  the  three  or  four 
Who  take  my  place, 
I  crave  your  grace 
To  listen  to  an  apologue. 

A  shepherd,  with  a  single  dog, 

Was  asked  the  reason  why 
He  kept  a  dog,  whose  least  supply 
Amounted  to  a  loaf  of  bread 
For  every  day.    The  people  said 

*  Who  took  the  medicine  presented  to  him  by  his  physician  Philip, 
the  moment  after  he  had  received  a  letter  announcing  that  that  very 
man  designed  to  poison  him.  —  Arrian,  L.  II.  Chap.  XIV. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

He'd  better  give  the  animal 

To  guard  the  village  seignior's  hall : 

For  him,  a  shepherd,  it  would  be 

A  thriftier  economy 

To  keep  small  curs,  say  two  or  three, 

That  would  not  cost  him  half  the  food, 

And  yet  for  watching  be  as  good. 

The  fools,  perhaps,  forgot  to  tell 

If  they  would  fight  the  wolf  as  well. 

The  silly  shepherd,  giving  heed, 

Cast  off  his  dog  of  mastiff  breed, 

And  took  three  dogs  to  watch  his  cattle, 

Which  ate  far  less,  but  fled  in  battle. 

His  flock  such  counsel  lived  to  rue, 

As,  doubtlessly,  my  friend,  will  you. 

If  wise,  my  aid  again  you'll  seek  — 

And  so,  persuaded,  did  the  Greek. 

Not  vain  our  tale,  if  it  convinces 
Small  states  that  'tis  a  wiser  thing 
To  trust  a  single  powerful  king, 

Than  half  a  dozen  petty  princes. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  99 


THE  USE   OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

Between  two  citizens 
A  controversy  grew. 
The  one  was  poor,  bat  much  he  knew : 
The  other,  rich,  with  little  sense, 
Claimed  that,  in  point  of  excellence, 
The  merely  wise  should  bow  the  knee 
To  all  such  moneyed  men  as  he. 
The  merely  fools,  he  should  have  said ; 
For  why  should  wealth  hold  up  its  head, 
When  merit  from  its  side  hath  fled  ? 
My  friend,  quoth  Bloated-purse 
To  his  reverse, 
You  think  yourself  considerable. 
Pray,  tell  me,  do  you  keep  a  table  ? 
What  comes  of  this  incessant  reading, 
In  point  of  lodging,  clothing,  feeding  ? 
It  gives  one,  true,  the  highest  chamber, 
One  coat  for  June  and  for  December, 
His  shadow  for  his  sole  attendant, 
And  hunger  always  in  th'  ascendant. 
What  profits  he  his  country,  too, 
Who  scarcely  ever  spends  a  sou  ? 
Will,  haply,  be  a  public  charge  ? 
Who  profits  more  the  state  at  large, 


100  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Than  he  whose  luxuries  dispense 
Among  the  people  wealth  immense? 
We  set  the  streams  of  life  a  flowing ; 
We  set  all  sorts  of  trades  a  going. 
The  spinner,  weaver,  sewer,  vender, 
And  many  a  wearer,  fair  and  tender, 
All  live  and  flourish  on  the  spender  — 
As  do,  indeed,  the  reverend  rooks, 
Who  waste  their  time  in  making  books. 
These  words,  so  full  of  impudenee, 
Received  their  proper  recompense. 
The  man  of  letters  held  his  peace, 
Though  much  he  might  have  said  with  ease. 
A  war  avenged  him  soon  and  well ; 
In  it  their  common  city  fell. 
Both  fled  abroad  ;  the  ignorant, 
By  fortune  thus  brought  down  to  want, 
Was  treated  every  where  with  scorn, 
And  roamed  about,  a  wretch  forlorn ; 
Whereas  the  scholar,  every  where, 
Was  nourished  by  the  public  care. 

Let  fools  the  studious  despise  ; 
There's  nothing  lost  by  being  wise 


MM  \ I Ik 


3*  ji  i*j  &  E3   i^aiBsju'o 


THE  FAITHLESS  DEPOSITARY. 


hanks  to  Memory's  daughters  nine, 
Animals  have  graced  my  line : 

Higher  heroes  in  my  story 

Might  have  won  me  less  of  glory. 
Wolves,  in  language  of  the  sky, 

Talk  with  dogs  throughout  my  verse  ; 
Beasts  with  others  shrewdly  vie, 

Representing  characters : 


102  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Fools  ill  furs  not  second  hand, 
Sages  hoofed  or  feathered,  stand : 
Fewer  truly  are  the  latter, 
More  the  former  —  ay,  and  fatter. 

Flourish  also  in  my  scene 
Tyrants,  villains,  mountebanks, 
Beasts  incapable  of  thanks, 
Beasts  of  rash  and  reckless  pranks, 

Beasts  of  sly  and  flattering  mien  ; 

Troops  of  liars,  too,  I  ween. 
As  to  men,  of  every  age, 
All  are  liars,  saith  the  sage. 
Had  he  writ  but  of  the  low, 
One  could  hardly  think  it  so ; 
But  that  human  mortals,  all, 
Lie  like  serpents,  great  and  small, 
Had  another  certified  it, 
I,  for  one,  should  have  denied  it, 
He  who  lies  in  iEsop's  way, 
Or  like  Homer,  minstrel  gray, 
Is  no  liar,  sooth  to  say. 
Charms  that  bind  us  like  a  dream, 

Offspring  of  their  happy  art, 
Cloked  in  fiction,  more  than  seem 

Truth  to  offer  to  the  heart. 
Both  have  left  us  works  which  I 
Think  unworthy  e'er  to  die. 
Liar  call  not  him  who  squares 
All  his  ends  and  aims  with  theirs  ; 

But  from  sacred  truth  to  vary, 

Like  the  false  depositary, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  103 

Is  to  be,  by  every  rule, 
Both  a  liar  and  a  fool. 
The  story  goes : 

A  man  of  trade, 
In  Persia,  with  his  neighbor  made 
Deposit,  as  he  left  the  state, 
Of  iron,  say  a  hundred  weight. 
Returned,  said  he,  My  iron,  neighbor. 
Your  iron  !  you  have  lost  your  labor  ; 
I  grieve  to  say  it,  —  'pon  my  soul, 
A  rat  has  eaten  up  the  whole. 
My  men  were  sharply  scolded  at, 
But  yet  a  hole,  in  spite  of  that, 

Was  left,  as  one  is  wont  to  be 

In  every  barn  or  granary, 
By  which  crept  in  that  cursed  rat. 
Admiring  much  the  novel  thief, 
The  man  affected  full  belief. 

Erelong  his  faithless  neighbor's  child 
He  stole  away,  —  a  heavy  lad, — 
And  then  to  supper  bade  the  dad, 
Who  thus  plead  off  in  accents  sad  :  — 
It  was  but  yesterday  I  had 

A  boy  as  fine  as  ever  smiled, 
An  only  son,  as  dear  as  life, 
The  darling  of  myself  and  wife. 
Alas  !  we  have  him  now  no  more, 
And  every  joy  with  us  is  o'er. 
Replied  the  merchant,  Yesternight, 

By  evening's  faint  and  dusky  ray, 


104  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

1  saw  a  monstrous  owl  alight, 
And  bear  jour  darling  son  away 
To  yonder  tottering  ruin  gray. 
Can  I  believe  you,  when  you  say 
An  owl  bore  off  so  large  a  prey  ? 
How  could  it  be  ?  the  father  cried  ; 
The  thing  is  surely  quite  absurd ; 
My  son  with  ease  had  killed  the  bird. 
The  how  of  it,  the  man  replied, 
Is  not  my  province  to  decide ; 
I  know  I  saw  your  son  arise, 
Borne  through  the  air  before  my  eyes. 
Why  should  it  seem  a  strange  affair, 
Moreover,  in  a  country  where 
A  single  rat  contrives  to  eat 
A  hundred  pounds  of  iron  meal, 
That  owls  should  be  of  strength  to  lift  ye 
A  booby  boy  that  weighs  but  fifty  ? 
The  other  plainly  saw  the  trick, 
Restored  the  iron  very  quick, 
And  got,  with  shame  as  well  as  joy, 
Possession  of  his  kidnapped  boy. 

The  like  occurred  two  travellers  between. 
One  was  of  those 
Who  wear  a  microscope,  I  ween, 
Each  side  the  nose. 
Would  you  believe  their  tales  romantic, 
Our  Europe,  in  its  monsters,  beats 
The  lands  that  feel  the  tropic  heats, 
Surcharged  with  all  that  is  gigantic. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


105 


This  person,  feeling  free 
To  use  the  trope  hyperbole, 
Had  seen  a  cabbage  with  his  eyes 
Exceeding  any  house  in  size. 
And  I  have  seen,  the  other  cries, 
Resolved  to  leave  his  fellow  in  the  lurch, 
A  pot  that  would  have  held  a  church. 
Why,  friend,  don't  give  that  doubting  look,  — 
The  pot  was  made  your  cabbages  to  cook. 
This  pot-discoverer  was  a  wit ; 
The  iron-monger,  too,  was  wise. 
To  such  absurd  and  ultra  lies 
Their  answers  were  exactly  fit. 
'Twere  doing  honor  overmuch, 
To  reason  or  dispute  with  such. 
To  overbid  them  is  the  shortest  path, 
And  less  provocative  of  wrath. 


JUPITER  AND  THE  THUNDERBOLTS. 

Said  Jupiter,  one  day, 

As  on  a  cloud  he  la}', 

Observing  all  our  crimes, 

Come,  let  us  change  the  times, 

By  leasing  out  anew 

A  world  whose  wicked  crew 

Have  weaned  out  our  grace. 

And  cursed  us  to  our  face. 

Hie  hellward,  Mercury ; 

A  Fury  bring  to  me, 

The  direst  of  the  three. 

Race  nursed  too  tenderly ! 

This  day  your  doom  shall  be. 
E'en  while  he  spoke  their  fate, 
His  wrath  began  to  moderate. 


O  kings,  with  whom  his  will 
Hath  lodged  our  good  and  ill. 
Your  wrath  and  storm  between 
One  night  should  intervene. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  107 

The  god  of  rapid  wing 

And  lip  unfaltering 

To  sunless  regions  sped, 

And  met  the  sisters  dread. 

To  grim  Tisiphone 

And  pale  Megaera,  he 

Preferred,  as  murderess, 

Alecto,  pitiless. 
This  choice  so  roused  the  fiend, 

By  Pluto's  beard  she  swore 

The  human  race  no  more 
Should  be  by  handfuls  gleaned, 

But  in  one  solid  mass 
Th'  infernal  gates  should  pass. 
But  Jove,  displeased  with  both 
The  Fury  and  her  oath, 
Despatched  her  back  to  hell. 

And  then  a  bolt  he  hurled, 

Down  on  a  faithless  world, 
Which  in  a  desert  fell. 

Aimed  by  a  father's  arm, 

It  caused  more  fear  than  harm. 

(All  fathers  strike  aside.) 

What  did  from  this  betide  ? 

Our  evil  race  grew  bold, 

Resumed  their  wicked  tricks, 

Increased  them  manifold, 

Till,  all  Olympus  through, 

Indignant  murmurs  flew. 

When,  swearing  by  the  Styx, 


108  LA    FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  sire  that  rules  the  air 
Storms  promised  to  prepare 
More  terrible  and  dark, 
Which  should  not  miss  their  mark. 
A  father's  wrath  it  is ! 
The  other  deities 
All  in  one  voice  exclaimed; 
And,  might  the  thing  be  named, 
Some  other  god  would  make 
Bolts  better  for  our  sake. 
This  Vulcan  undertook. 
His  rumbling  forges  shook 
And  glowed  with  fervent  heat, 
While  Cyclops  blew  and  beat. 
Forth  from  the  plastic  flame 
Two  sorts  of  bolts  there  came. 
Of  these,  one  misses  not : 
'Tis  by  Olympus  shot,  — 
That  is,  the  gods  at  large. 
The  other,  bearing  wide, 
Hits  mountain-top  or  side, 
Or  makes  a  cloud  its  targe. 
And  this  it  is  alone 
Which  leaves  the  father's  throne. 


THE  FALCON  AND  THE  CAPON. 

You  often  hear  a  sweet,  seductive  call : 
If  wise,  you  hasten  towards  it  not  at  ail,  — 
And,  if  you  heed  my  apologue, 
You  act  like  John  de  Nivelle's  dog.* 

A  capon,  citizen  of  Mans, 
Was  summoned  from  a  throng 
To  answer  to  the  village  squire, 
Before  tribunal  called  the  fire. 

The  matter  to  disguise, 

The  kitchen  sheriff  wise 
Cried,  Biddy  —  Biddy  —  Biddy  !  — 
But  not  a  moment  did  he  — 

This  Norman  and  a  halff  — 
The  smooth  official  trust. 
Your  bait,  said  he,  is  dust,  — 

And  I'm  too  old  for  chaff. 


*  A  dog  which,  according  to  the  French  proverb,  ran  away  when  hia 
master  called  him. 

i  Though  the  Normans  are  proverbial  for  their  shrewdness,  the 
French  have,  nevertheless,  a  proverb  that  they  come  to  Paris  to  be 
hanged.  Hence  La  Fontaine  makes  his  capon,  who  knew  how  to 
Bhun  a  similar  fate,   le  Normand  el  demi  —  the    Norman  and  a  half. 


HO  LA  FONTAINES  FABLES. 

Meantime,  a  falcon,  on  his  perch, 
Observed  the  flight  and  search. 
In  man,  by  instinct  or  experience, 
The  capons  have  so  little  confidence, 
That  this  was  not  without  much  trouble  caught, 
Though  for  a  splendid  supper  sought. 
To  lie,  the  morrow  night, 
In  brilliant  candle  light, 
Supinely  on  a  dish 
Midst  viands,  fowl,  and  fish, 
With  all  the  ease  that  heart  could  wish  — 
This  honor,  from  his  master  kind, 
The  fowl  would  gladly  have  declined. 
Outcried  the  bird  of  chase, 
As  in  the  weeds  he  eyed  the  skulker's  face,  — 
Why,  what  a  stupid,  blockhead  race!  — 
Such  witless,  brainless  fools 
Might  well  defy  the  schools. 
For  me,  I  understand 
To  chase  at  word 
The  swiftest  bird, 
Aloft,  o'er  sea  or  land  ; 
At  slightest  beck, 
Returning  quick 
To  perch  upon  my  master's  hand. 
There,  at  his  window  he  appears  — 
He  waits  thee  —  hasten  —  hast  no  ears  ? 
Ah !  that  1  have,  the  fowl  replied  ; 
But  what  from  master  might  betide  ? 
Or  cook,  with  cleaver  at  his  side  ? 


THE    FOX    AND«  THE     GRAPES. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  HI 

Return  you  may  for  such  a  call, 

But  let  me  fly  their  fatal  hall ; 

And  spare  your  mirth  at  my  expense  : 

Whate'er  I  lack,  'tis  not  the  sense 

To  know  that  all  this  sweet-toned  breath 

Is  spent  to  lure  me  to  my  death. 

If  you  had  seen  upon  the  spit 

As  many  of  the  falcons  roast 

As  I  have  of  the  capon  host, 
You  would  not  thus  reproach  my  wit. 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  GRAPES. 

A  fox,  almost  with  hunger  dying, 
Some  grapes  upon  a  trellis  spying, 
To  all  appearance  ripe,  clad  in 

Their  tempting  russet  skin, 
Most  gladly  would  have  eat  them  ; 
But  since  he  could  not  get  them, 

So  far  above  his  reach  the  vine, — 
They're  sour,  he  said  ;  such  grapes  as  these 
The  dogs  may  eat  them  if  they  please  ! 

Did  he  not  better  than  to  whine  ? 


112  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  CAT   AND  THE  RAT. 

Four  creatures,  wont  to  prowl,  — 

Sly  Grab-and-Snateh,  the  cat, 
Grave  Evil-bode,  the  owl, 
Thief  Nibble-stitch,  the  rat, 
And  Madam  Weasel,  prim  and  fine, — 
Inhabited  a  rotten  pine. 
A  man  their  home  discovered  there, 
And  set,  one  night,  a  cunning  snare. 
The  cat,  a  noted  early-riser, 
AVent  forth,  at  break  of  day, 
To  hunt  her  usual  prey. 

Not  much  the  wiser 
For  morning's  feeble  ray, 
The  noose  did  suddenly  surprise  her. 
Waked  by  her  strangling  cry, 
Gray  Nibble-stitch  drew  nigh  : 
As  full  of  joy  was  he 
As  of  despair  was  she, 
For  in  the  noose  he  saw 
His  foe  of  mortal  paw. 
Dear  friend,  said  Mrs.  Grab-and-Snatch, 
Do,  pray,  this  cursed  cord  detach. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  H3 

I've  always  known  your  skill, 

And  often  your  good  will ; 
Now  help  me  from  this  worst  of  snares, 
In  which  I  fell  at  unawares. 

'Tis  by  a  sacred  right. 

You,  sole  of  all  your  race, 
By  special  love  and  grace, 

Have  been  my  favorite  — 
The  darling  of  my  eyes. 

'Twas  ordered  by  celestial  cares, 
No  doubt ;  I  thank  the  blessed  skies, 

That,  going  out  to  say  my  prayers, 
As  cats  devout  each  morning  do, 
This  net  has  made  me  pray  to  you. 
Come,  fall  to  work  upon  the  cord. 
Replied  the  rat,  And  what  reward 

Shall  pay  me,  if  I  dare  ? 

Why,  said  the  cat,  I  swear 

To  be  your  firm  ally : 

Henceforth,  eternally, 

These  powerful  claws  are  yours, 

Which  safe  your  life  insures. 
I'll  guard  from  quadruped  and  fowl ; 
I'll  eat  the  weasel  and  the  owl. 

Ah,  cried  the  rat,  you  fool ! 
I'm  quite  too  wise  to  be  your  tool. 
He  said,  and  sought  his  snug  retreat, 
Close  at  the  rotten  pine-tree's  feet, 
Where  plump  he  did  the  weasel  meet ; 
Whom  shunning  by  a  happy  dodge, 
He  climbed  the  hollow  trunk  to  lodge ; 


114  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  there  the  savage  owl  he  saw. 
Necessity  became  his  law, 
And  down  he  went,  the  rope  to  gnaw. 
Strand  after  strand  in  two  he  bit, 
And  freed,  at  last,  the  hypocrite. 
That  moment  came  the  man  in  sight 
The  new  allies  took  hasty  flight. 

A  good  while  after  that, 

Our  liberated  cat 

Espied  her  favorite  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  stanch  ally. 

Do  you  suppose,  dear  rat,  that  I 
Forget  the  solemn  oath  1  mewed  ? 
Do  I  forget,  the  rat  replied, 
To  what  your  nature  is  allied  ? 

To  thankfulness,  or  even  pity, 

Can  cats  be  ever  bound  by  treaty.'1' 

Alliance  from  necessity 

Is  safe  just  while  it  has  to  he. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  H5 


EDUCATION. 


0 


La  pluck  and  Caesar  brothers  were,  descended 
From  dogs  by  Fame  the  most  commended, 
Who  falling,  in  their  puppyhood, 
To  different  masters  anciently, 
One  dwelt  and  hunted  in  the  boundless  wood ; 
From  thieves  the  other  kept  a  kitchen  free. 
At  first,  each  had  another  name  ; 
But,  by  their  bringing  up,  it  came, 
While  one  improved  upon  his  nature, 
The  other  grew  a  sordid  creature, 

Till,  by  some  scullion  called  Lapluck, 
The  name  ungracious  ever  stuck. 

To  high  exploits  his  brother  grew, 
Put  many  a  stag  at  bay,  and  tore 
Full  many  a  trophy  from  the  boar ; 
In  short,  him  first,  of  all  his  crew, 
The  world  as  Caesar  knew; 
And  care  was  had,  lest,  by  a  baser  mate, 
His  noble  blood  should  e'er  degenerate. 
Not  so  with  his  neglected  brother ; 
He  made  whatever  came  a  mother ; 
And,  by  the  laws  of  population, 
His  race  became  a  countless  nation  — 
The  common  turnspits  throughout  France . 
Where  danger  is,  they  don't  advance  :  — 
Precisely  the  antipodes 
Of  what  we  call  the  Caesars,  these  ! 


116  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Oft  fells  the  son  below  his  sire's  estate ; 
Through  want  of  care  all  things  degenerate. 
For  lack  of  nursing  Nature  and  her  gifts, 
What  crowds  from  gods  become  mere  kitchen  thrifts ! 


THE  TWO   DOGS   AND  THE   DEAD   ASS. 

The  Virtues  should  be  sisters,  hand  in  hand, 
Since  banded  brothers  all  the  Vices  stand  ; 

When  one  of  these  our  hearts  attacks, 
All  come  in  file ;  there  only  lacks, 

From  out  the  cluster,  here  and  there, 
A  mate  of  some  antagonizing  pair, 
That  can't  agree  the  common  roof  to  share. 
But  all  the  Virtues,  as  a  sisterhood, 
Have  scarcely  ever  in  one  subject  stood. 

We  find  one  brave,  but  passionate  ; 

Another  prudent,  but  ingrate. 

Of  beasts,  the  dog  may  claim  to  be 

The  pattern  of  fidelity ; 

But,  for  our  teaching  little  wiser, 
He's  both  a  fool  and  gormandizer. 
For  proof,  I  cite  two  mastiffs,  that  espied 
A  dead  ass  floating  on  a  water  wide. 

The  distance  growing  more  and  more, 

Because  the  wind  the  carcass  bore,  — 

My  friend,  said  one,  your  eyes  are  best ; 

Prav  let  them  on  the  water  rest : 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  H7 

What  thing  is  that  1  seem  to  see  ? 
An  ox,  or  horse  ?  what  can  it  be  ? 
Hey  !  cried  his  mate  ;  what  matter  winch, 
Provided  we  could  get  a  flitch  ? 
It  doubtless  is  our  lawful  prey : 
The  puzzle  is  to  find  some  way 
To  get  the  prize  ;  for  wide  the  space 
To  swim,  with  wind  against  your  face.* 
Let's  drink  the  flood  ;  our  thirsty  throats 
Will  gain  the  end  as  well  as  boats 
The  water  swallowed,  by  and  by 
We'll  have  the  carcass,  high  and  dry  — 
Enough  to  last  a  week,  at  least. 
Both  drank  as  some  do  at  a  feast ; 
Their  breath  was  quenched  before  their  thirst, 
And  presently  the  creatures  burst ! 

And  such  is  man.     Whatever  he 
May  set  his  soul  to  do  or  be, 
To  him  is  possibility. 

How  many  vows  he  makes ! 

How  many  steps  he  takes ! 
How  does  he  strive,  and  pant,  and  strain, 
Fortune's  or  Glory's  prize  to  gain ! 
If  round  my  farm  off  well  I  must, 
Or  fill  my  coffers  with  the  dust, 
Or  master  Hebrew,  science,  history,  — 
I  make  my  task  to  drink  the  sea. 

*  Did  La  Fontaine,  to  enhance  the  folly  of  these  dogs,  make  them 
bad  judges  of  the  course  of  the  wind,  or  did  he  forget  what  he  had 
said  a  few  lines  above?  —  En. 


118  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

One  spirit's  projects  to  fulfil, 

Four  bodies  would  require  ;  and  still 

The  work  would  stop  half  done ; 
The  lives  of  four  Methuselahs, 
Placed  end  to  end  for  use,  alas ! 

Would  not  suffice  the  wants  of  one. 


THE  MAN   AND  THE  FLEA. 

Impertinent,  we  tease  and  weary  Heaven 
With  prayers  which  would  insult  mere  mortals  even 
'Twould  seem  that  not  a  god  in  all  the  skies 
From  our  affairs  must  ever  turn  his  eyes, 
And  that  the  smallest  of  our  race 
Could  hardly  eat,  or  wash  his  face, 
Without,  like  Greece  and  Troy  for  ten  years'  space 
Embroiling  all  Olympus  in  the  case. 

A  flea  some  blockhead's  shoulder  bit, 
And  then  his  clothes  refused  to  quit. 
O  Hercules,  he  cried,  you  ought  to  purge 
The  world  of  this  far  worse  than  hydra  scourge. 
O  Jupiter,  what  are  your  bolts  about, 
They  do  not  put  these  foes  of  mine  to  rout  ? 

To  crush  a  flea,  this  fellow's  fingers  under, 

The  gods  must  lend  the  fool  their  club  and  thunder. 


JHE   WALLET. 


From  heaven,  one  day,  did  Jupiter  proclaim, 

Let  all  that  live  before  my  throne  appear, 
And  there,  if  any  one  hath  aught  to  blame, 
In  matter,  form,  or  texture  of  his  frame, 

He  may  bring  forth  his  grievance  without,  fear. 
Redress  shall  instantly  be  given  to  each. 
Come,  monkey,  now,  first  let  us  have  your  speech. 
You  see  these  quadrupeds,  your  brothers ; 
Comparing,  then,  yourself  with  others, 

Are  you  well  satisfied  ?     And  wherefore  not  ? 
Said  Jock.     Haven't  I  four  trotters  with  the  rest? 
Is  not  my  visage  comely  as  the  best? 

But  this,  my  brother  Bruin,  is  a  blot 
On  thy  creation  fair. 
And  sooner  than  be  painted,  I'd  be  shot, 

Were  I,  great  sire,  a  bear. 
The  bear  approaching,  doth  he  make  complaint  i 
Not  he  ;  —  himself  he  lauds  without  restraint. 

The  elephant  he  needs  must  criticise  ; 

To  crop  his  ears  and  stretch  his  tail  were  wise; 

A  creature  he  of  huge,  misshapen  size. 


120  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  elephant,  though  famed  as  beast  judicious, 
While  on  his  own  account  he  had  no  wishes, 
Pronounced  dame  whale  too  big  to  suit  his  taste  ; 
Of  flesh  and  fat  she  was  a  perfect  waste. 
The  little  ant,  again,  pronounced  the  gnat  too  wee; 
To  such  a  speck,  a  vast  colossus  she. 
Each  censured  by  the  rest,  himself  content, 
Back  to  their  homes  all  living  things  were  sent. 
Such  folly  liveth  yet  with  human  fools. 
For  others  lynxes,  for  ourselves  but  moles, 
Great  blemishes  in  other  men  we  spy, 
Which  in  ourselves  we  pass  most  kindly  by. 
As  in  this  world  we're  but  way-farers, 
Kind  Heaven  has  made  us  wallet- bearers. 
The  pouch  behind  our  own  defects  must  store, 
The  faults  of  others  lod^e  in  that  before. 


DEMOCRITUS  AND  THE  PEOPLE  OF  ABDERA. 


How  do  I  hate  the  tide  of  vulgar  thought ! 
Profane,  unjust,  with  childish  folly  fraught, 
It  breaks  and  bends  the  rays  of  truth  divine, 
And  by  its  own  conceptions  measures  mine. 
Famed  Epicurus'  master  tried 
The  power  of  this  unstable  tide. 
His  country  said  the  sage  was  mad  — 

The  simpletons!     But  why?  — 
No  prophet  ever  honor  had 

Beneath  his  native  sky. 
Democritus,  in  truth,  was  wise  ; 
The  mass  were  mad,  with  faith  in  lies. 

So  far  this  error  went, 

That  all  Abdera  sent 

To  old  Hippocrates 

To  cure  the  sad  disease. 
Our  townsman,  said  the  messengers. 
Appropriatejy  shedding  tears, 
Hath  lost  his  wits  !     Democritus, 
By  study  spoiled,  is  lost  to  us. 
Were  he  but  filled  with  ignorance, 
We  should  esteem  him  less  a  dunce* 


122  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

He  saith  that  worlds  like  this  exist, 
An  absolutely  endless  list,  — 
And  peopled,  even,  it  may  be, 
With  countless  hosts  as  wise  as  we ! 
But,  not  contented  with  such  dreams, 
His  brain  with  viewless  "  atoms  "  teems, 
Instinct  with  deathless  life,  it  seems. 
And,  never  stirring  from  the  sod  below, 
He  weighs  and  measures  all  the  stars ; 

And,  while  he  knows  the  universe, 
Himself  he  doth  not  know. 
Though  now  his  lips  he  strictly  bars, 

He  once  delighted  to  converse. 
Come,  godlike  mortal,  try  thy  art  divine 
Where  traits  of  worst  insanity  combine. 

Small  faith  the  great  physician  lent, 
But  still,  perhaps  more  readily,  he  went. 

And  mark  what  meetings  strange 
Chance  causes  in  this  world  of  change ! 

Hippocrates  arrived  in  season, 

Just  as  his  patient  (void  of  reason !) 
Was  searching  whether  reason's  home, 
In  talking  animals  and  dumb, 
Be  in  the  head,  or  in  the  heart, 
Or  in  some  other  local  part. 
All  calmly  seated  in  the  sha^le, 
Where  brooks  their  softest  music  made, 
He  traced,  with  study  most  insane, 
The  convolutions  of  a  brain  ; 
And  at  his  feet  lay  many  a  scroll  — 
The  works  of  sages  on  the  soul. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


123 


Indeed,  so  much  absorbed  was  he, 
His  friend,  at  first,  he  did  not  see. 
A  pair  so  admirably  matched, 
Their  compliments  erelong  despatched. 
In  time  and  talk,  as  well  as  dress, 
The  wise  are  frugal,  I  confess. 
Dismissing  trifles,  they  began 
At  once  with  eagerness  to  scan    • 
The  life,  and  soul,  and  laws  of  man  ; 
Nor  stopped  till  they  had  travelled  o'er  all 
The  ground,  from  physical  to  moral. 
My  time  and  space  would  fail, 
To  give  the  full  detail. 

But  I  have  said  enough  to  show 
How  little  'tis  the  people  know. 
How  true,  then,  goes  the  saw  abroad  — 
Their  voice  is  but  the  voice  of  God ! 


124  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  WOLF  AND  THE  HUNTER. 

Thou  lust  of  gain,  —  foul  fiend,  whose  evil  eyes 
Regard  as  nought  the  blessings  of  the  skies,  — 
Must  1  forever  battle  thee  in  vain  ? 
How  long  demandest  thou  to  gain 
The  meaning  of  my  lessons  plain  ? 
Will  constant  getting  never  cloy  ? 
Will  man  ne'er  slacken  to  enjoy  ? 
Haste,  friend  ;  thou  hast  not  long  to  live  : 
Let  me  the  precious  word  repeat, 
And  listen  to  it,  1  entreat ; 
A  richer  lesson  none  can  give  — 
The  sovereign  antidote  for  sorrow  — 
ENJOY.— 1  will.— But  when?— To-morrow.- 
Ah  !  death  may  take  you  on  the  way  , 
Why  not  enjoy,  I  ask,  to-day  ? 
Lest  envious  fate  your  hopes  ingulf, 
As  once  it  served  the  hunter  and  the  wolf. 
The  former,  with  his  fatal  bow, 
A  noble  deer  had  laid  full  low : 
A  fawn  approached,  and  quickly  lay 
Companion  of  the  dead, 
For  side  by  side  they  bled. 
Could  one  have  wished  a  richer  prey  ? 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  125 

Such  luck  had  been  enough  to  sate 

A  hunter  wise  and  moderate. 
Meantime  a  boar,  as  big  as  e'er  was  taken, 
Our  archer  tempted,  proud,  and  fond  of  bac  n. 

Another  candidate  for  Styx, 

Struck  by  his  arrow,  foams  and  kicks. 

But  strangely  do  the  shears  of  Fate 

To  cut  his  cable  hesitate. 

Alive,  yet  dying,  there  he  lies, 

A  glorious  and  a  dangerous  prize. 

And  was  not  this  enough  ?     Not  quite 

To  fill  a  conqueror's  appetite ; 

For,  ere  the  boar  was  dead,  he  spied 

A  partridge  by  a  furrow's  side  — 

A  trifle  to  his  other  game. 
Once  more  his  bow  he  drew ; 

The  desperate  boar  upon  him  came, 
And  in  his  dying  vengeance  slew : 
The  partridge  thanked  him  as  she  flew. 

Thus  much  is  to  the  covetous  addressed ; 
The  miserly  shall  have  the  rest. 

A  wolf,  in  passing,  saw  that  woful  sight. 

O  Fortune,  cried  the  savage,  with  delight, 
A  fane  to  thee  I'll  build  outright ! 
Four  carcasses  !  how  rich  !  but  spare  — 
I'll  make  them  last  — such  luck  is  rare, 
(The  miser's  everlasting  plea.) 
They'll  last  a  month,  for  —  let  me  see  — 


126 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


One,  two,  three,  four  —  the  weeks  are  four, 
If  I  can  count  —  and  some  days  more. 
Well,  two  days  hence 
And  I'll  commence. 
Meantime,  the  string  upon  this  bow 

I'll  stint  myself  to  eat ; 
For  by  its  mutton-smell  1  know 

'Tis  made  of  entrails  sweet. 
His  entrails  rued  the  fatal  weapon, 
Which,  while  he  heedlessly  did  step  on, 
The  arrow  pierced  his  bowels  deep, 
And  laid  him  lifeless  on  the  heap. 

Hark,  stingy  souls!  insatiate  leeches! 
Our  text  this  solemn  duty  teaches,  — 
Enjoy  the  present ;  do  not  wait 
To  share  the  wolf's  or  hunter's  fate. 


THE   YOUNG  WIDOW. 


A  husband's  death  brings  always  sighs; 

The  widow  sobs,  sheds  tears  —  then  dries. 

Of  Time  the  sadness  borrows  wings  , 

And  Time  returning  pleasure  brings. 

Between  the  widow  of  a  year 

And  of  a  day,  the  difference 
Is  so  immense, 

That  very  few  who  see  her 

Would  think  the  laughing  dame 

And  weeping  one  the  same. 

The  one  puts  on  repulsive  action, 

The  other  shows  a  strong  attraction. 
The  one  gives  up  to  sighs,  or  true  or  false ; 
The  same  sad  note  is  heard,  whoever  calls. 

Her  grief  is  inconsolable, 

They  say  ;  not  so  our  fable, 

Or,  rather,  not  so  says  the  truth. 

To  other  worlds  a  husband  went 
And  left  his  wife  in  prime  of  youth. 
Above  his  dying  couch  she  bent, 


128  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  cried,  My  love,  O  wait  for  me ! 
My  soul  would  gladly  go  with  thee ! 

(But  yet  it  did  not.  go.) 
The  fair, one's  sire,  a  prudent  man, 
Checked  not  the  current  of  her  woe. 

At  last  he  kindly  thus  began :  — 
My  child,  your  grief  should  have  its  bound. 
What  boots  it  him  beneath  the  ground 
That  you  should  drown  your  charms  ? 

Live  for  the  living,  not  the  dead. 

I  don't  propose  that  you  be  led 
At  once  to  Hymen's  arms ; 
But  give  me  leave,  in  proper  time, 
To  rearrange  the  broken  chime 
With  one  who  is  as  good,  at  least, 
In  all  respects,  as  the  deceased. 
Alas !  she  sighed,  the  cloister  vows 
Befit  me  better  than  a  spouse. 
The  father  left  the  matter  there. 
About  one  month  thus  mourned  the  fair; 
Another  month,  her  weeds  arranged ; 
Each  day  some  robe  or  lace  she  changed, 
Till  mourning  dresses  served  to  grace, 
And  took  ol  ornament  the  place. 

The  frolic  band  of  loves 

Came  flocking  back  like  doves. 

Jokes,  laughter,  and  the  dance, 

The  native  growth  of  France, 

Had  finally  their  turn  ; 

And  thus,  by  night  and  morn, 


THE  COCK,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE  YOUNG  MOUSE. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  129 

She  plunged,  to  tell  the  truth, 
Deep  in  the  fount  of  Youth. 
Her  sire  no  longer  feared 
The  dead  so  much  endeared; 
But,  as  he  never  spoke, 
Herself  the  silence  broke  :  — 
Where  is  that  youthful  spouse,  said  she, 
Whom,  sir,  you  lately  promised  me  ? 


THE  WOLF   AND  THE  STOltK. 

The  wolves  are  prone  to  play  the  glutton. 

One,  at  a  certain  feast,  'tis  said, 
So  stuffed  himself  with  lamb  and  mutton, 

He  seemed  but  little  short  of  dead. 
Deep  in  his  throat  a  bone  stuck  fast. 

Well  for  this  wolf,  who  could  not  speak, 
That  soon  a  stork  quite  near  him  passed. 
By  signs  invited,  with  her  beak 
The  bone  she  drew 
With  slight  ado, 
And  for  this  skilful  surgery 
Demanded,  modestly,  her  fee. 
Your  fee!  replied  the  wolf, 
In  accents  rather  gruff; 
And  is  it  not  enough 
Your  neck  is  safe  from  such  a  gult  t 
Go,  for  a  wretch  in  grate, 
Nor  tempt  again  your  fate ! 


130  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  COCKEREL,  THE  CAT,  AND  THE 
YOUNG  MOUSE. 

A  youthful  mouse,  not  up  to  trap, 
Had  almost  met  a  sad  mishap. 
The  story  hear  him  thus  relate, 

With  great  importance,  to  his  mother  :  — 
[  passed  the  mountain  bounds  of  this  estate, 
And  off  was  trotting  on  another, 
Like  some  young  rat  with  nought  to  do 
But  see  things  wonderful  and  new, 
When  two  strange  creatures  came  in  view. 
The  one  was  mild,  benign,  and  gracious  ; 
The  other,  turbulent,  rapacious, 
With  voice  terrific,  shrill,  and  rough, 
And  on  his  head  a  bit  of  stuff 
That  looked  like  raw  and  bloody  meat, 
Raised  up  a  sort  of  arms,  and  beat 
The  air,  as  if  he  meant  to  fly, 
And  bore  his  plumy  tail  on  high. 

A  cock,  that  just  began  to  crow, 
As  if  some  nondescript, 
From  far  New  Holland  shipped, 
Was  what  our  mousling  pictured  so. 
He  beat  his  arms,  said  he,  and  raised  his  voice, 

And  made  so  terrible  a  noise, 
That  I,  who,  thanks  to  Heaven,  mayjustly  boast 
Myself  as  bold  as  any  mouse, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  131 

Scud  off,  (his  voice  would  even  scare  a  ghost !) 
And  cursed  himself  and  all  his  house  ^ 
For,  but  for  him,  I  should  have  staid, 
And  doubtless  an  acquaintance  made 
With  her  who  seemed  so  mild  and  good. 
Like  us,  in  velvet  cloak  and  hood, 
She  wears  a  tail  that's  full  of  grace, 
A  very  sweet  and  humble  face, — 
No  mouse  more  kindness  could  desire,  — 
And  jet  her  eye  is  full  of  fire. 
I  do  believe  the  lovely  creature 
A  friend  of  rats  and  mice  by  nature. 
Her  ears,  though,  like  herself,  they're  bigger, 
Are  just  like  ours  in  form  and  figure. 
To  her  I  was  approaching,  when, 
Aloft  on  what  appeared  his  den, 
The  other  screamed,  —  and  off  I  fled. 
My  son,  his  cautious  mother  said, 
That  sweet  one  was  the  cat, 
The  mortal  foe  of  mouse  and  rat, 
Who  seeks  by  smooth  deceit, 
Her  appetite  to  treat. 
So  far  the  other  is  from  that, 

We  yet  may  eat 

His  dainty  meat ; 
Whereas  the  cruel  cat, 
Whene'er  she  can,  devours 
No  other  meat  than  ours. 

Remember  while  you  liv? 

It  is  by  looks  that  men  deceive. 


su 


THE  FOX,  THE  MONKEY,  AND  THE   ANIMALS. 

Left  kingless  by  the  lion's  death, 

The  beasts  once  met,  our  story  saith, 

Some  fit  successor  to  install. 
Forth  from  a  dragon-guarded,  moated  place, 
The  crown  was  brought,  and,  taken  from  its  case, 

And  being  tried  by  turns  on  all, 

The  heads  of  most  were  found  too  small ; 

Some  horned  were,  and  some  too  big  ; 
Not  one  would  fit  the  regal  gear. 

Forever  ripe  for  such  a  rig, 

The  monkey,  looking  very  queer, 

Approached  with  antics  and  grimaces, 

And,  after  scores  of  monkey  faces, 
With  what  would  seem  a  gracious  stoop, 
Passed  through  the  crown  as  through  a  hoop. 

The  beasts,  diverted  with  the  thing, 

Did  homage  to  him  as  their  king. 

The  fox  alone  the  vote  regretted, 

But  yet  in  public  never  fretted. 

When  he  his  compliments  had  paid 

To  royalty,  thus  newly  made. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  133 

Great  sire,  I  know  a  place,  said  he, 

Where  lies  concealed  a  treasure, 
Which,  by  the  right  of  royalty, 

Should  bide  your  royal  pleasure. 
The  king  lacked  not  an  appetite, 

For  such  financial  pelf, 
And,  not  to  lose  his  royal  right, 

Ran  straight  to  see  it  for  himself. 
It  was  a  trap,  and  he  was  caught. 
Said  Renard,  Would  you  have  it  thought, 
You  ape,  that  you  can  fill  a  throne, 
And  guard  the  rights  of  all,  alone, 
Not  knowing  how  to  guard  your  own  ? 

The  beasts  all  gathered  from  the  farce, 
That  stuff  for  kings  is  very  scarce. 


THE  TWO  DOVES. 


^ 


Two  doves  once  cherished  for  each  other 
The  love  that  brother  hath  for  brother. 
But  one,  of  scenes  domestic  tiring, 
To  see  the  foreign  world  aspiring, 

Was  fool  enough  to  undertake 

A  journey  long,  o'er  land  and  lake. 

What  plan  is  this  ?  the  other  cried  ; 

Wouldst  quit  so  soon  thy  brother's  side  ? 

This  absence  is  the  worst  of  ills ; 

Thy  heart  may  bear,  but  me  it  kills. 

Pray,  let  the  dangers,  toil,  and  care, 
Of  which  all  travellers  tell, 
Your  courage  somewhat  quell. 

Still,  if  the  season  later  were  — 

O  wait  the  zephyrs  !  —  hasten  not  — 
Just  now  the  raven,  on  his  oak, 
In  hoarser  tones  than  usual  spoke. 

My  heart  forebodes  the  saddest  lot,  — 

The  falcons,  nets  —  Alas,  it  rains ! 

My  brother,  are  thy  wants  supplied  — 
Provisions,  shelter,  pocket-guide, 

And  all  that  unto  health  pertains  ? 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  135 

These  words  occasioned  some  demur 

In  our  imprudent  traveller. 

But  restless  curiosity 

Prevailed  at  last ;  and  so  said  he,  — 

The  matter  is  not  worth  a  sigh ; 

Three  days,  at  most,  will  satisfy, 

And  then,  returning,  I  shall  tell 

You  all  the  wonders  that  befell, 

With  scenes  enchanting  and  sublime 
Shall  sweeten  all  our  coming  time. 
Who  seeth  nought,  hath  nought  to  say. 
My  travel's  course,  from  day  to  day, 
Will  be  the  source  of  great  delight. 
A  store  of  tales  I  shall  relate,  — 
Say  there  1  lodged  at  such  a  date, 
And  saw  there  such  and  such  a  sight. 
You'll  think  it  all  occurred  to  you.  — 
On  this,  both,  weeping,  bade  adieu. 
Away  the  lonely  wanderer  flew.  — 
A  thunder-cloud  began  to  lower ; 
He  sought,  as  shelter  from  the  shower,      • 
The  only  tree  that  graced  the  plain, 
Whose  leaves  ill  turned  the  pelting  rain. 
The  sky  once  more  serene  above, 
On  flew  our  drenched  and  dripping  dove, 
And  dried  his  plumage  as  he  could. 
Next,  on  the  borders  of  a  wood, 
He  spied  some  scattered  grains  of  wheatj 
Which  one,  he  thought,  might  safely  eat; 
For  there  another  dove  he  saw.  — 
Ho  felt  the  snare  around  him  draw ! 


136  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

This  wheat  was  but  a  treacherous  bait 
To  lure  poor  pigeons  to  their  fate. 
The  snare  had  been  so  long  in  use, 
With  beak  and  wings  he  struggled  loose ; 
Some  feathers  perished  while  it  stuck ; 
But,  what  was  worst  in  point  of  luck, 
A  hawk,  the  crudest  of  foes, 
Perceived  him  clearly  as  he  rose, 
Off  dragging,  like  a  runaway, 
A  piece  of  string.     The  bird  of  prey 
Had  bound  him,  in  a  moment  more, 
Much  faster  than  he  was  before, 
But  from  the  clouds  an  eagle  came, 
And  made  the  hawk  himself  his  game, 
/By  war  of  robbers  profiting, 
The  dove  for  safety  plied  the  wing, 
And,  lighting  on  a  ruined  wall, 
Believed  his  dangers  ended  all. 
A  roguish  boy  had  there  a  sling, 
(Age  pitiless, 
We  must  confess,) 
And,  by  a  most  unlucky  fling, 
Half  killed  our  hapless  dove  ; 
Who  now,  no  more  in  love 
With  foreign  travelling, 
And  lame  in  leg  and  wing, 

Straight  homeward  urged  his  crippled  flight, 

Fatigued,  but  glad,  arrived  at  night, 

In  truly  sad  and  piteous  plight. 
The  doves  rejoined,  I  leave  you  all  to  say, 

What  pleasure  might  their  pains  repay. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  137 

Ah,  happy  lovers,  would  you  roam  ?  — 
Pray,  let  it  not  be  far  from  home. 
To  each  the  other  ought  to  be 

A  world  of  beauty  ever  new  ; 
In  each  the  other  ought  to  see 

The  whole  of  what  is  good  and  true. 

Myself  have  loved  :  nor  would  I  then, 
For  all  the  wealth  of  crowned  men, 
Or  arch  celestial,  paved  with  gold, 
The  presence  of  those  woods  have  sold, 
And  fields,  and  banks,  and  hillocks,  which 
Were  by  the  joyful  steps  made  rich, 
And  smiled  beneath  the  charming  eyes 
Of  her  who  made  my  heart  a  prize  — 
To  whom  I  pledged  it,  nothing  loath, 
And  sealed  the  pledge  with  virgin  oath. 
Ah',  when  will  time  such  moments  bring  again  ? 
To  me  are  sweet  and  charming  objects  vain  — 
My  soul  forsaking  to  its  restless  mood  ? 
O,  did  my  withered  heart  but  dare 

To  kindle  for  the  bright  and  good, 
Should  not  I  find  the  charm  still  there  ? 
Is  love,  to  me,  with  things  that  were  ? 


-8^ 


THE  SERPENT  AND  THE  FILE. 

A  serpent,  neighbor  to  a  smith, 

(A  neighbor  bad  to  meddle  with.) 

Went,  through  his  shop,  in  search  of  food, 

But  nothing  found,  'tis  understood, 

To  eat,  except  a  file  of  steel, 

Of  which  he  tried  to  make  a  meal. 

The  file,  without  a  spark  of  passion, 

Addressed  him  in  the  following  fashion  .  — 

Poor  simpleton  !  you  surely  bite 

With  less  of  sense  than  appetite  ; 

For  ere  from  me  you  gain 

One  quarter  of  a  grain, 
You'll  break  your  teeth  from  ear  to  ear. 
Time's  are  the  only  teeth  I  fear. 

This  tale  concerns  those  men  of  letters, 
Who,  good  for  nothing,  bite  their  betters. 
Their  biting  so  is  quite  unwise. 
Think  you,  ye  literary  sharks, 
Your  teeth  will  leave  their  marks 
Upon  the  deathless  works  you  criticise  ? 

Fie  !  fie  !  fie,  men  ! 
To  you  they're  brass  —  they're  steel  —  they're 
diamond. 


viia*&ai  vasstto 


THE  LION  IN   LOVE. 


TO    MADEMOISELLE    DE    SEVIGNE. 


evigne,  type  ot  every  grace 
In  female  form  and  face, 
In  your  regardlessness  of  men, 
Can  you  show  favor  when 
The  sportive  fable  craves  your 

ear, 
And  see,  unntoved  by  fear., 
A  lion's  haughty  heart 
Thrust  through  by  Love's  audacious  dart  ? 
Strange  conqueror,  Love  !    And  happy  he. 
And  strangely  privileged  and  free, 
Who  only  knows  by  story 
Him  and  his  feats  of  glory  ! 


140  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

If  on  this  subject  you  are  wont 
To  think  the  simple  truth  too  blunt. 
The  fabulous  may  less  affront ; 
Which  now,  inspired  with  gratitude, 
Yea,  kindled  into  zeal  most  fervent, 
Doth  venture  to  intrude 
Within  your  maiden  solitude, 
And  kneel,  your  humble  servant.  — 
In  times  when  animals  were  speakers, 
Among  the  quadrupedal  seekers 
Of  our  alliance 
There  came  the  lions. 
And  wherefore  not  ?  for  then 
They  yielded  not  to  men 
In  point  of  courage  or  of  sense, 
Nor  were  in  looks  without  pretence. 
A  high-born  lion,  on  his  way 
Across  a  meadow,  met  one  day 
A  shepherdess,  who  charmed  him  so, 
That,  as  such  matters  ought  to  go, 
He  sought  the  maiden  for  his  bride. 
Her  sire,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
Had  much  preferred  a  son-in-law 
Of  less  terrific  mouth  and  paw. 
It  was  not  easy  to  decide  — 
The  lion  might  the  gift  abuse  — 
?Twas  not  quite  prudent  to  refuse. 
And  if  refusal  there  should  be, 
Perhaps  a  marriage  one  wTould  see, 
Some  morning,  made  clandestinely. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  141 

For,  over  and  above 
The  fact  that  she  could  bear 
With  none  but  males  of  martial  air, 

The  lady  was  in  love 
With  him  of  shaggy  hair. 
Her  sire,  much  wanting  cover 
To  send  away  the  lover, 
Thus  spoke  :  —  My  daughter,  sir, 
Is  delicate.     I  fear  to  her 

Your  fond  caressings 

Will  prove  rough  blessings. 

To  banish  all  alarm 

About  such  sort  of  harm, 
Permit  us  to  remove  the  cause. 
By  filing  -off  your  teeth  and  claws. 
In  such  a  case,  your  royal  kiss 
Will  be  to  her  a  safer  bliss, 

And  to  yourself  a  sweeter  ; 
Since  she  will  more  respond 
To  those  endearments  fond 

With  which  you  greet  her. 
The  lion  gave  consent  at  once, 
By  love  so  great  a  dunce ! 
Without  a  tooth  or  claw  now  view  him  — 

A  fort  with  cannon  spiked. 
The  dogs,  let  loose  upon  him,  slew  him, 
All  biting  safely  where  they  liked. 

O,  tyrant  Love !  when  held  by  you, 
We  may  to  Prudence  bid  adieu. 


THE  SCHOOL-BOY,  THE  PEDANT,  AND  THE  OWNER 
OF  A   GARDEN. 

A  boy,  who  savored  of  his  school, — 
A  double  rogue  and  double  fool,  — 

By  youth  and  by  the  privilege 
Which  pedants  have,  by  ancient  right, 

To  alter  reason  and  abridge,  — 
A 'neighbor  robbed,  with  fingers  light, 
Of  flowers  and  fruit.     This  neighbor  had, 
Of  fruits  that  make  the  autumn  glad, 
The  very  best  —  and  none  but  he. 
Each  season  brought,  from  plant  and  tree, 
To  him  its  tribute ;  for,  in  spring, 
His  was  the  brightest  blossoming;.     ' 
One  day,  he  saw  our  hopeful  lad 
Perched  on  the  finest  tree  he  had, 
Not  only  stuffing  down  the  fruit, 
But  spoiling,  like  a  Vandal  brute, 
The  buds  that  play  advance-courier 
Of  plenty  in  the  coming  year. 
The  branches,  too,  he  rudely  tore, 

And  carried  things  to  such  a  pass, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  143 

The  owner  sent  his  servant  o'er 
To  tell  the  master  of  his  class. 

The  latter  came,  and  came  attended 
By  all  the  urchins  of  his  school, 
And  thus  one  plunderer's  mischief  mended 
By  pouring  in  an  orchard-full. 
It  seems  the  pedant  was  intent 
On  making  public  punishment, 
To  teach  his  boys  the  force  of  law, 
And  strike  their  roguish  hearts  with  awe. 
The  use  of  which  he  first  must  show 
From  Virgil  and  from  Cicero, 

And  many  other  ancients  noted, 
From  whom,  in  their  own  tongues,  he  quoted. 

So  long,  indeed,  his  lecture  lasted, 

While  not  a  single  urchin  fasted, 

That,  ere  its  close,  their  thievish  crimes 
Were  multiplied  a  hundred  times. 

I  hate  all  eloquence  and  reason 
Expended  plainly  out  of  season. 
Of  all  the  beasts  that  earth  have  cursed 

While  they  have  fed  on't, 
The  school-boy  strikes  me  as  the  worst  — 
Except  the  pedant. 
The  better  of  these  neighbors  two 
For  me,  I'm  sure,  would  never  do. 


itaJ" 


THE  SCULPTOR  AND  THE  STATUE  OF   JUPITER. 

A  block  of  marble  was  so  fine, 
To  buy  it  did  a  sculptor  hasten. 

What  shall  my  chisel,  now  'tis  mine  — 
A  god,  a  table,  or  a  basin  ? 

A  god,  said  he,  the  thing  shall  be ; 

I'll  arm  it,  too,  with  thunder. 
Let  people  quake,  and  bow  the  knee 

With  reverential  wonder. 

So  well  the  cunning  artist  wrought 
All  things  within  a  mortal's  reach, 

That  soon  the  marble  wanted  nought 
Of  being  Jupiter,  but  speech. 


Indeed,  the  man  whose  skill  did  make 
Had  scarcely  laid  his  chisel  down, 

Before  himself  began  to  quake, 
And  fear  his  manufacture's  frown. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  145 

And  even  this  excess  of  faith 

The  poet  once  scarce  fell  behind, 

The  hatred  fearing,  and  the  wrath, 
Of  gods  the  product  of  his  mind. 

This  trait  we  see  in  infancy 

Between  the  baby  and  its  doll, 
Of  wax  or  china,  it  may  be  — 

A  pocket  stuffed,  or  folded  shawl. 

Imagination  rules  the  heart : 

And  here  we  find  the  fountain  head 

From  whence  the  pagan  errors  start, 
That  o'er  the  teeming  nations  spread. 

With  violent  and  flaming  zeal, 

Each  takes  his  own  chimera's  part ; 

Pygmalion  doth  a  passion  feel 
For  Venus  chiseled  by  his  art. 

All  men,  as  far  as  in  them  lies, 

Create  realities  of  dreams. 
To  truth  our  nature  proves  but  ice  ; 

To  falsehood,  fire  it  seems. 


THE  MOUSE  METAMORPHOSED  INTO  A   MAID. 

A  mouse  once  from  an  owl's  beak  fell ; 

I'd  not  have  picked  it  up,  I  wis ; 
A  Bramin  did  it :  very  well ; 

Each  country  has  its  prejudice. 
The  mouse,  indeed,  was  sadly  bruised. 
Although,  as  neighbors,  we  are  used 
To  be  more  kind  to  many  others, 
The  Bramins  treat  the  mice  as  brothers. 
The  notion  haunts  their  heads,  that  when 
The  soul  goes  forth  from  dying  men, 
It  enters  worm,  or  bird,  or  beast, 
As  Providence  or  Fate  is  pleased ; 
And  on  this  mystery  rests  their  law, 
Which  from  Pythagoras  they're  said  to  draw. 
And  hence  the  Bramin  kindly  prayed 
To  one  who  knew  the  wizard's  trade, 
To  give  the  creature,  wounded  sore, 
The  form  in  which  it  lodged  before. 
Forthwith  the  mouse  became  a  maid, 
Of  years  about  iifteen  ; 
-A  lovelier  was  never  seen. 
She  would  have  waked,  I  ween, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  147 

In  Priam's  son,  a  fiercer  flame 

Than  did  the  beauteous  Grecian  dame. 

Surprised  at  such  a  novelty, 

The  Bramin  to  the  damsel  cried, 
Your  choice  is  free  ; 
For  every  he 
Will  seek  you  for  his  bride. 
Said  she,  Am  I  to  have  a  voice  ? 
The  strongest,  then,  shall  be  my  choice. 
O  sun !  the  Bramin  cried,  this  maid  is  thine, 
And  thou  shalt  be  a  son-in-law  of  mine. 
No,  said  the  sun,  this  murky  cloud,  it  seems, 
In  strength  exceeds  me,  since  he  hides  my  beams ; 
And  him  1  counsel  you  to  take. 
Again  the  reverend  Bramin  spake  — 
O  cloud,  on-flying  with  thy  stores  of  water, 
Pray,  wast  thou  born  to  wed  my  daughter  ? 
Ah,  no,  alas !  for,  you  may  see, 
The  wind  is  far  too  strong  for  me. 
My  claims  with  Boreas'  to  compare, 
I  must  confess,  I  do  not  dare. 
O  wind,  then  cried  the  Bramin,  vexed, 
And  wondering  what  would  hinder  next,  — 
Approach,  and,  with  thy  sweetest  air, 
Embrace  —  possess  —  the  fairest  fair. 
The  wind,  enraptured,  thither  blew ;  — 
A  mountain  stopped  him  as  he  flew, 
To  him  now  passed  the  tennis-ball, 
And  from  him  to  a  creature  small. 
Said  he,  I'd  wed  the  maid,  but  that 
I've  had  a  quarrel  with  the  rat. 


148  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

A  fool  were  I  to  take  the  bride 
From  one  so  sure  to  pierce  my  side. 
The  rat !     It  thrilled  the  damsel's  ear  ; 
The  name  at  once  seemed  sweet  and  dear. 
The  rat !     'Twas  one  of  Cupid's  blows  ; 
The  like  full  many  a  maiden  knows ; 
But  all  of  this  beneath  the  rose. 

One  smacketh  ever  of  the  place 
Where  first  he  showed  the  world  his  face. 
Thus  far  the  fable's  clear  as  light ; 
But,  if  we  take  a  nearer  sight, 
There  lurks  within  its  drapery 
Somewhat  of  graceless  sophistry  ; 

For  who,  that  worships  e'en  the  glorious  sun. 

Would  not  prefer  to  wed  some  cooler  one  ? 

And  doth  a  flea's  exceed  a  giant's  might, 

Because  the  former  can  the  latter  bite  ? 
And,  by  the  rule  of  strength,  the  rat 
Had  sent  his  bride  to  wed  the  cat ; 
From  cat  to  dog,  and  onward  still 
To  wolf  or  tiger,  if  you  will : 
Indeed,  the  fabulist  might  run 
A  circle  backward  to  the  sun.  — 
But  to  the  change  the  tale  supposes,  — 
In  learned  phrase,  metempsychosis. 
The  very  thing  the  wizard  did 

Its  falsity  exposes  — 
If  that  indeed  were  ever  hid. 
According  to  the  Bramins'  plan, 
The  proud,  aspiring  soul  of  man 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  149 

And  souls  that  dwell  in  humbler  forms 

Of  rats  and  mice,  and  even  worms, 

All  issue  from  a  common  source, 

And,  hence,  they  are  the  same  of  course.  — 

Unequal  but  by  accident 

Of  organ  and  of  tenement, 

They  use  one  pair  of  legs,  or  two, 

Or  e'en  with  none  contrive  to  do, 

As  tyrant  matter  binds  them  to. 

Why,  then,  could  not  so  fine  a  frame 

Constrain  its  heavenly  guest 
To  wed  the  solar  flame  ? 

A  rat  her  love  possessed. 

In  all  respects,  compared  and  weighed, 
The  souls  of  men  and  souls  of  mice 

Quite  different  are  made,  — 
Unlike  in  sort  as  well  as  size. 
Each  fits  and  fills  its  destined  part 

As  Heaven  doth  well  provide ; 
Nor  witch,  nor  fiend,  nor  magic  art, 

Can  set  their  laws  aside. 


150  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  OYSTER  AND  THE  LITIGANTS. 

Two  pilgrims  on  the  sand  espied 

An  oyster  thrown  up  by  the  tide. 

In  hope,  both  swallowed  ocean's  fruit ; 

But  ere  the  fact  there  came  dispute. 

While  one  stooped  down  to  take  the  prey, 

The  other  pushed  him  quite  away. 

Said  he,  'twere  rather  meet 

To  settle  which  shall  eat. 
Why,  he  who  first  the  oyster  saw 
Should  be  its  eater,  by  the  law ; 
The  other  should  but  see  him  do  it. 
Replied  his  mate,  if  thus  you  view  it, 
Thank  God,  the  lucky  eye  is  mine. 
But  I've  an  eye  not  worse  than  thine, 
The  other  cried,  and  will  be  cursed, 
If,  too,  I  didn't  see  it  first. 
You  saw  it,  did  you  ?    Grant  it  true, 
I  saw  it  then,  and  felt  it  too. 
Amidst  this  sweet  affair, 

Arrived  a  person  very  big, 

Ycleped  Sir  Nincom  Periwig. 
They  made  him  judge,  —  to  set  the  matter  square 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  151 

Sir  Nincom,  with  a  solemn  face, 
Took  up  the  oyster  and  the  case : 
In  opening  both,  the  first  he  swallowed, 
And,  in  due  time,  his  judgment  followed. 
Attend :  the  court  awards  you  each  a  shell 
Cost  free ;  depart  in  peace,  and  use  them  well. 
Foot  up  the  cost  of  suits  at  law, 
The  leavings  reckon  and  awards, 
The  cash  you'll  see  Sir  Nincom  draw, 
And  leave  the  parties  —  purse  and  cards. 

THE  FOOL  WHO  SOLD   WISDOM. 

Of  fools  come  never  in  the  reach ; 

No  rule  can  I  more  wisely  teach. 

Nor  can  there  be  a  better  one 

Than  this,  —  distempered  heads  to  shun. 

We  often  see  them,  high  and  low. 
They  tickle  e'en  the  royal  ear, 
As  privileged  and  free  from  fear 
They  hurl  about  them  joke  and  jeer, 

At  pompous  lord  or  silly  beau. 

A  fool,  in  town,  did  wisdom  cry ; 
The  people,  eager,  flocked  to  buy. 

Each  for  his  money  got, 

Paid  promptly  on  the  spot, 

Besides  a  box  upon  the  head, 

Two  fathoms'  length  of  thread. 
The  most  were  vexed  —  but  quite  in  vain  ; 
The  public  only  mocked  their  pain. 


152  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

The  wiser  they  who  nothing  said, 

But  pocketed  the  box  and  thread. 

To  search  the  meaning  of  the  thing 

Would  only  laughs  and  hisses  bring. 

Hath  reason  ever  guarantied 

The  wit  of  fools  in  speech  or  deed  ? 

'Tis  said  of  brainless  heads  in  France, 

The  cause  of  what  they  do  is  chance. 

One  dupe,  however,  needs  must  know 

What  meant  the  thread,  and  what  the  blow ; 

So  asked  a  sage,  to  make  it  sure. 

They're  both  hieroglyphics  pure, 

The  sage  replied,  without  delay ; 

All  people  well  advised  will  stay 

From  fools  this  fibre's  length  away, 

Or  get  —  I  hold  it  sure  as  fate  — 

The  other  symbol  on  the  pate. 

So  far  from  cheating  you  of  gold, 

The  fool  this  wisdom  fairly  sold. 


THE  MONKEY  AND  THE  LEOPARD. 


A  monkey  and  a  Jeopard  were 
The  rivals  at  a  country  fair. 
Each  advertised  his  own  attractions. 
Said  one,  Good  sirs,  the  highest  place 
My  merit  knows  ;  for,  of  his  grace, 
The  king  hath  seen  me  face  to  face ; 
And,  judging  by  his  looks  and  actions, 
I  gave  the  best  of  satisfactions. 
When  1  am  dead,  'tis  plain  enough, 
My  skin  will  make  his  royal  muff. 
So  richly  is  it  streaked  and  spotted, 
So  delicately  waved  and  dotted, 
Its  various  beauty  cannot  fail  to  please. 
And,  thus  invited,  every  body  sees  ; 
But  soon  they  see,  and  soon  depart. 
The  monkey's  show-bill  to  the  mart 
His  merits  thus  sets  forth  the  while, 
All  in  his  own  peculiar  style  :  — 
Come,  gentlemen,  I  pray  you,  come ; 
In  magic  arts  I  am  at  home. 


154  LA   FONTAINES   FABLES. 

The  whole  variety  in  which 
My  neighbor  boasts  himself  so  rich, 
Is  to  his  simple  skin  confined, 
While  mine  is  living  in  the  mind. 
Your  humble  servant,  Monsieur  Gille, 
The  son-in-law  to  Tickleville, 
Pope's  monkey,  and  of  great  renown, 
Is  now  just  freshly  come  to  town, 
Arrived  in  three  bateaux,  express, 

Your  worships  to  address  ; 
For  he  can  speak,  you  understand ; 
Can  dance,  and  practise  sleight  of  hand ; 
Can  jump'  through  hoops,  and  balance  sticks ; 
In  short,  can  do  a  thousand  tricks ; 

And  all  for  blancos  six  — 

Not,  messieurs,  for  a  sou. 
And,  if  you  think  the  price  won't  do, 
When  you  have  seen,  then  he'll  restore 
Each  man  his  money  at  the  door. 

The  ape  was  not  to  reason  blind ; 
For  who  in  wealth  of  dress  can  find 
Such  charms  as  dwell  in  wealth  of  mind  ? 
One  meets  our  ever-new  desires, 
The  other  in  a  moment  tires. 

Alas  !  how  many  lords  there  are, 
Of  mighty  sway  and  lofty  mien, 

Who,  like  this  leopard  at  the  fair, 
Show  all  their  talents  on  the  skin ! 


THE  ACORN    AND  THE  PUMPKIN. 

God's  works  are  good.     This  truth  to  prove, 
Around  the  world  I  need  not  move  ; 

I  do  it  by  the  nearest  pumpkin. 
This  fruit  so  large,  on  vine  so  small, 

Surveying  once,  exclaimed  a  bumpkin  — 
What  could  He  mean  who  made  us  all  ? 
He's  left  this  pumpkin  out  of  place. 
If  I  had  ordered  in  the  case, 
Upon  that  oak  it  should  have  hung  — 
A  noble  fruit  as  ever  swung 
To  grace  a  tree  so  firm  and  strong. 
Indeed,  it  was  a  great  mistake, 
As  this  discovery  teaches, 
That  I  myself  did  not  partake 
His  counsels  whom  my  curate  preaches. 
All  things  had  then  in  order  come  ; 

This  acorn,  for  example, 
Not  bigger  than  my  thumb, 
Had  not  disgraced  a  tree  so  ample. 
The  more  I  think,  the  more  I  wonder 

To  see  outraged  proportion's  laws, 


156 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


And  that  without  the  slightest  cause  ; 
God  surely  made  an  awkward  blunder. 
With  such  reflections  proudly  fraught, 
Our  sage  grew  tired  of  mighty  thought, 
And  threw  himself  on  Nature's  lap, 
Beneath  an  oak,  to  take  his  nap. 
Plump  on  his  nose,  by  lucky  hap, 
An  acorn  fell :  he  waked,  and  in 
The  matted  beard  that  graced  his  chin, 
He  found  the  cause  of  such  a  bruise 
As  made  him  different  language  use. 
O!  O!  he  cried;   1  bleed!  I  bleed! 
And  this  is  what  has  done  the  deed ! 
But,  truly,  what  had  been  my  fate, 
Had  this  had  half  a  pumpkin's  weight ! 
f  see  that  God  had  reasons  good, 
And  all  his  works  well  understood. 
Thus  home  he  went  in  humbler  mood. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  157 


NOTHING  TOO   MUCH. 

Look  where  we  will  throughout  creation, 
We  look  in  vain  for  moderation. 
There  is  a  certain  golden  mean, 
Which  nature's  sovereign  Lord,  I  ween, 
Designed  the  path  of  all  forever. 
Doth  one  pursue  it  ?    Never. 
E'en  things  which  by  their  nature  bless, 
Are  turned  to  curses  by  excess. 

The  grain,  best  gift  of  Ceres  fair, 
Green  waving  in  the  genial  air, 
By  overgrowth  exhausts  the  soil ; 

By  superfluity  of  leaves 

Defrauds  the  treasure  of  its  sheaves, 
And  mocks  the  busy  farmer's  toil. 
Not  less  redundant  is  the  tree, 
So  sweet  a  thing  is  luxury. 
The  grain  within  due  bounds  to  keep, 
Their  Maker  licenses  the  sheep 
The  leaves  excessive  to  retrench. 

In  troops  they  spread  across  the  plain, 

And,  nibbling  down  the  hapless  grain, 
Contrive  to  spoil  it,  root  and  branch. 


158  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

So,  then,  with  license  from  on  high, 
The  wolves  are  sent  on  sheep  to  prey ; 
The  whole  the  greedy  gluttons  slay ; 

Or,  if  they  don't,  they  try. 
Next,  men  are  sent  on  wolves  to  take 

The  vengeance  now  condign  : 
In  turn  the  same  abuse  they  make 

Of  this  behest  divine. 

Of  animals,  the  human  kind  ^\y^ 
Are  to  excess  the  most  inclined. 
On  low  and  high  we  make  the  charge,  ■ 
Indeed,  upon  the  race  at  large. 
There  liveth  not  the  soul  select 
That  sinneth  not  in  this  respect. 
Of  "  Nought  too  much,"  the  fact  is, 
All  preach  the  truth,  —  none  practise. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  159 


THE  WAX-CANDLE. 

From  bovvers  of  gods  the  bees  came  down  to  man. 

On  Mount  Hymettus,  first,  they  say, 

They  made  their  home,  and  stored  away 

The  treasures  which  the  zephyrs  fan. 
When  men  had  robbed  these  daughters  of  the  sky, 
And  left  their  palaces  of  nectar  dry,  — 

Or,  as  in  French  the  thing's  explained, 

When  hives  were  of  their  honey  drained,  — 
The  spoilers  'gan  the  wax  to  handle, 
And  fashioned  from  it  many  a  candle. 
Of  these,  one,  seeing  clay,  made  brick  by  fire, 
Remain  uninjured  by  the  teeth  of  time, 

Was  kindled  into  great  desire 
For  immortality  sublime. 

And  so  this  new  Empedocles 

Upon  the  blazing  pile  one  sees, 

Self-doomed  by  purest  folly 

To  fate  so  melancholy. 

The  candle  lacked  philosophy. 

All  things  are  made  diverse  to  be. 

To  wander  from  our  destined  tracks  — 
There  cannot  be  a  vainer  wish. 

But  this  Empedocles  of  wax, 
That  melted  in  the  chafing-dish, 

Was  truly  not  a  greater  fool 

Than  he  of  whom  we  read  at  school. 


JUPITER  AND  THE  PASSENGER. 

How  danger  would  the  gods  enrich, 

If  we  the  vows  remembered  which 

It  drives  us  to !    But,  danger  past. 

Kind  Providence  is  paid  the  last.— > 

No  earthly  debt  is  treated  so. 

Now,  Jove,  the  wretch  exclaims,  will  wait ; 

He  sends  no  sheriff  to  one's  gate, 

Like  creditors  below ; 

But  let  me  ask  the  dolt 

What  means  the  thunderbolt. 


A  passenger,  endangered  by  the  sea, 
Had  vowed  a  hundred  oxen  good 
To  him  who  quelled  old  Terra's  brood. 
He  had  not  one :  as  well  might  he 
Have  vowed  a  hundred  elephants. 
Arrived  on  shore,  his  good  intents 
Were  dwindled  to  the  smoke  which  rose 
An  offering  merely  for  the  nose, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  161 

From  half  a  dozen  beefless  bones. 
Great  Jove,  said  he,  behold  my  vow ! 
The  fumes  of  beef  thou  breathest  now 

Are  all  thy  godship  ever  owns : 
From  debt  I  therefore  stand  acquitted. 
With  seeming  smile,  the  god  submitted, 
But  not  long  after  caught  him  well, 
By  sending  him  a  dream,  to  tell 

Of  treasure  hid.     Off  ran  the  hV, 

As  if  to  quench  a  house  on  fire, 
And  on  a  band  of  robbers  fell. 
As  but  a  crown  he  had  that  day, 

He  promised  them  of  sterling  gold 

A  hundred  talents,  truly  told  ; 
Directing  where  concealed  they  lay, 
In  such  a  village  on  their  way. 
The  rogues  so  much  the  tale  suspected, 
Said  one,  If  we  should  suffer  you  to, 
You'd  cheaply  get  us  all  detected. 

Go,  then,  and  bear  your  gold  to  Pluto. 


162  LA  FONTAINES  FABLES. 


THE  CAT  AND  THE  FOX. 

The  cat  and  fox,  when  saints  were  all  the  rage, 
Together  went  on  pilgrimage. 
Arch  hypocrites  and  swindlers,  they, 
By  sleight  of  face  and  sleight  of  paw, 
Regardless  both  of  right  and  law, 
Contrived  expenses  to  repay, 
By  eating  many  a  fowl  and  cheese, 
And  other  tricks  as  bad  as  these. 
Disputing  served  them  to  beguile 
Their  road  of  many  a  weary  mile. 
Disputing !  but  for  this  resort, 
The  world  would  go  to  sleep,  in  short. 
Our  pilgrims,  as  a  thing  of  course, 
Disputed  till  their  throats  were  hoarse. 

Then,  dropping  to  a  lower  tone, 
They  talked  of  this,  and  talked  of  that, 
Till  Renard  whispered  to  the  cat, 

You  think  yourself  a  knowing  one  : 
How  many  cunning  tricks  have  you  ? 
For  I've  a  hundred,  old  and  new, 
All  ready  in  my  haversack. 
The  cat  replied,  -I  do  not  lack, 
Though  with  but  one  piovided. 


THE    FOX    AND     THE     CAT. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  163 

And,  truth  to  honor,  for  that  matter, 
I  hold  it  than  a  thousand  better. 

In  fresh  dispute  they  sided; 
And  loudly  were  they  at  it,  when 
Approached  a  mob  of  dogs  and  men. 
Now,  said  the  cat,  your  tricks  ransack, 
And  put  your  cunning  brains  to  rack, 
One  life  to  save  ;  I'll  show  you  mine  — 
A  trick,  you  see,  for  saving  nine. 
With  that,  she  climbed  a  lofty  pine. 
The  fox  his  hundred  ruses  tried, 

And  yet  no  safety  found. 
A  hundred  times  he  falsified 

The  nose  of  every  hound  — 
Was  here,  and  there,  and  every  where, 

Above,  and  under  ground ; 
But  yet  to  stop  he  did  not  dare. 
Pent  in  a  hole,  it  was  no  joke 
To  meet  the  terriers  or  the  smoke. 
So,  leaping  into  upper  air, 
He  met  two  dogs,  that  choked  him  there. 

Expedients  may  be  too  many, 
Consuming  time  to  choose  and  try. 

On  one,  but  that  as  good  as  any, 
'Tis  best  in  danger  to  rely. 


164  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  KITE   AND   THE    NIGHTINGALE. 

A  noted  thief,  the  kite, 

Had  set  a  neighborhood  in  fright, 

And  raised  the  clamorous  noise 

Of  all  the  village  boys, 

When,  by  misfortune,  —  sad  to  say,  — 

A  nightingale  fell  in  his  way. 

Spring's  herald  begged  him  not  to  eat 

A  bird  for  music  —  not  for  meat. 

O  spare  !  cried  she,  and  I'll  relate 

The  crime  of  Tereus  and  his  fate,  — 

What's  Tereus  ?    Is  it  food  for  kites  ?  — 

No,  but  a  king,  of  female  rights 

The  villain  spoiler,  whom  I  taught 

A  lesson  with  repentance  fraught , 

And,  should  it  please  you  not  to  kill, 

My  song  about  his  fall 
Your  very  heart  shall  thrill, 

As  it,  indeed,  does  all.  — 
Replied  the  kite,  A  pretty  thing, 
When  I  am  faint  and  famishing. 
To  let  you  go  and  hear  you  sing !  — 
Ah,  but  I  entertain  the  king !  — 
Well,  when  he  takes  you,  let  him  hear 

Your  tale,  full  wonderful,  no  doubt; 

For  me,  a  kite,  I'll  go  without. 
An  empty  stomach  hath  no  ear. 


i^insiLiB  a*a®s^o 


THE  MILLER,  HIS  SON,   AND  THE  ASS. 


TO    M.    DE    MAUCKOIX 


ecause  the  arts  are  plainly  birthright  matter 
For  fables  we  to  ancient  Greece  are  debtors 
But  still  this  field  could  not  be  reaped  so  cleai 
As  not  to  let  us,  later  comers,  glean. 
The  fiction-world  hath  deserts  yet  to  dare, 
And,  daily,  authors  make  discoveries  there. 
I'd  fain  repeat  one  which  our  man  of  song, 
Old  Malherbe,  told  one  day  to  young  Racar 


166  LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Of  Horace  they  the  rivals  and  the  heirs, 
Apollo's  pets,  —  my  masters,  I  should  say,  — 
Sole  by  themselves  were  met,  I'm  told,  one  day, 
Confiding  each  to  each  their  thoughts  and  cares. 
Racan  begins  :  —  Pray  end  my  inward  strife, 
For  well  you  know,  my  friend,  what's  what  in  life, 
Who  through  its  varied  course,  from  stage  to  stage, 
Have  stored  the  full  experience  of  age ; 
What  shall  I  do  ?     'Tis  time  I  chose  profession. 
You  know  my  fortune,  birth,  and  disposition 
Ought  I  to  make  the  country  my  resort, 
Or  seek  the  army,  or  to  rise  at  court  ? 
There's  nought  but  mixeth  bitterness  with  charms ; 
War  hath  its  pleasures ;  hymen,  its  alarms. 
'Twere  nothing  hard  to  take  my  natural  bent, — 
But  I've  a  world  of  people  to  content. 
Content  a  wrorld !  old  Malherbe  cries ;  who  can,  sir  r 
Why,  let  me  tell  a  story  ere  I  answer. 

A  miller  and  his  son,  I've  somewhere  read, 

The  first  in  years,  the  other  but  a  lad,  — 

A  fine,  smart  boy,  however,  I  should  say,  — 

To  sell  their  ass  went  to  a  fair  one  day. 

In  order  there  to  get  the  highest  price, 

They  needs  must  keep  their  donkey  fresh  and  nice  ; 

So,  tying  fast  his  feet,  they  swung  him  clear, 

And  bore  him  hanging  like  a  chandelier. 

Alas  !  poor,  simple-minded  country  fellows  ! 

The  first  that  sees  their  load,  loud  laughing,  bellows 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  167 

What  farce  is  this  to  split  good  people's  sides  ? 
The  most  an  ass  is  not  the  one  that  rides ! 
The  miller,  much  enlightened  by  this  talk, 
Untied  his  precious  beast,  and  made  him  walk. 
The  ass,  who  liked  the  other  mode  of  travel, 
Brayed  some  complaint  at  trudging  on  the  gravel; 
Whereat,  not  understanding  well  the  beast, 
The  miller  caused  his  hopeful  son  to  ride, 
And  walked  behind,  without  a  spark  of  pride. 
Three  merchants  passed,  and,  mightily  displeased, 
The  eldest  of  these  gentlemen  cried  out, 
Ho  there  !  dismount,  for  shame,  you  lubber  lout, 
Nor  make  a  foot-boy  of  your  gray-beard  sire  ; 
Change  places,  as  the  rights  of  age  require, 
To  please  you,  sirs,  the  miller  said,  I  ought. 
So  down  the  young  and  up  the  old  man  got. 
Three  girls  next  passing,  What  a  shame,  says*  one, 
That  boy  should  be  obliged  on  foot  to  run, 
While  that  old  chap,  upon  his  ass  astride, 
Should  play  the  calf,  and  like  a  bishop  ride ! 
Please  save  your  wit,  the  miller  made  reply, 
Tough  veal,  my  girls,  the  calf  as  old  as  I. 
But  joke  on  joke  repeated  changed  his  mind  ; 
So  up  he  took,  at  last,  his  son  behind. 
Not  thirty  yards  ahead,  another  set 
Found  fault.     The  biggest  fools  I  ever  met, 
Says  one  of  them,  such  burdens  to  impose. 
The  ass  is  faint  and  dying  with  their  blows. 
Is  this,  indeed,  the  mercy  which  these  rustics 
Show  to  their  honest,  faithful,  old  domestics  % 


168  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

If  to  the  fair  these  lazy  fellows  ride, 
'Twill  be  to  sell  thereat  the  donkey's  hide ! 
Zounds !  cried  the  miller,  precious  little  brains 
Hath  he  who  takes,  to  please  the  world,  such  pains  ; 
But  since  we're  in,  we'll  try  what  can  be  done. 
So  off  the  ass  they  jumped,  himself  and  son, 
And,  like  a  prelate,  donkey  marched  alone. 
Another  man  they  met.     These  folks,  said  he? 
Enslave  themselves  to  let  their  ass  go  free  — 
The  darling  brute  !     If  I  might  be  so  bold, 
I'd  counsel  them  to  have  him  set  in  gold. 
Not  so  went  Nicholas  his  Jane  to  woo, 
Who  rode,  we  sing,  his  ass  to  save  his  shoe. 
Ass  !  ass  !  our  man  replied  ;  we're  asses  three ! 
I  do  avow  myself  an  ass  to  be ; 
But  since  my  sage  advisers  can't  agree, 

Their  words  henceforth  shall  not  be  heeded  ; 

I'll  suit  myself.     And  he  succeeded. 

For  you,  choose  army,  love,  or  court ; 
In  town,  or  country,  make  resort ; 
Take  wife,  or  cowl ;  ride  you,  or  walk  ; 
Doubt  not  but  tongues  will  have  their  talk. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  169 


THE  HUSBAND,  THE  WIFE,  AND  THE  THIEF. 

A  man  that  loved,  —  and  loved  his  wife,  — 
Still  led  an  almost  joyless  life. 
No  tender  look,  nor  gracious  word, 
Nor  smile  that,  coming  from  a  bride, 
Its  object  would  have  deified, 
E'er  told  her  doting  lord 
The  love  with  which  he  burned 
Was  in  its  kind  returned. 
Still,  unrepining  at  his  lot, 
This  man,  thus  tied  in  Hymen's  knot, 
Thanked  God  for  all  the  good  he  got. 
But  why  ?     If  love  doth  fail  to  season 

Whatever  pleasures  Hymen  gives, 
I'm  sure  I  cannot  see  the  reason 
Why  one  for  him  the  happier  lives. 

However,  since  his  wife 

Had  ne'er  caressed  him  in  her  life, 

He  made  complaint  of  it  one  night. 

The  entrance  of  a  thief 

Cut  short  his  tale  of  grief, 

And  gave  the  lady  such  a  fright, 

She  shrunk  from  dreaded  harms 
Within  her  husband's  arms. 


170  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Good  thief,  cried  he, 
This  joy  so  sweet  I  owe  to  thee : 
Now  take,  as  thy  reward, 
Of  all  that  owns  me  lord, 
Whatever  suits  thee,  save  my  spouse ; 
Ay,  if  thou  pleasest,  take  the  house. 
As  thieves  are  not  remarkably 
O'erstocked  with  modesty, 
This  fellow  made  quite  free. 

From  this  account  it  doth  appear, 
The  passions  all  are  ruled  by  fear.^/ 
Aversion  may  be  conquered  by  it, 
And  even  love  may  not  defy  it. 
But  still  some  cases  there  have  been 
Where  love  hath  ruled  the  roast,  I  ween. 
That  lover  witness,  highly  bred, 
Who  burnt  his  house  above  his  head, 
And  all  to  clasp  a  certain  dame, 
And  bear  her  harmless  through  the  flame. 
This  transport  through  the  fire, 
I  own,  I  much  admire ; 
And,  for  a  Spanish  soul,  reputed  coolish, 
I  think  it  grander  even  than  'twas  foolish.* 


*  La  Fontaine  here  refers  to  the  adventure  of  the  Spanish  Count 
Villa  Medina  with  Elizabeth  of  France,  wife  of  Philip  IV.  of  Spain. 
The  former,  having  invited  the  Spanish  court  to  a  splendid  entertain- 
ment in  his  palace,  had  it  set  on  fire,  that  he  might  personally  rescue 
the  said  lady  from  its  flames. 


THE  TREASURE  AND  THE  TWO   MEN. 

man  whose  credit  failed,  and,  what  was  worse, 
/.  -Who  lodged  the  devil  in  his  purse,  — 
That  is  to  say,  lodged  nothing  there,  — 
By  sell-suspension  in  the  air, 
Concluded  his  accounts  to  square, 
Since,  should  he  not,  he  understood, 
From  various  tokens,  famine  would  — 
A  death  for  which  no  mortal  wight 
Had  ever  yet  an  appetite. 
A  ruin,  crowned  with  ivy  green, 
Was  of  his  tragedy  the  scene. 
His  hangman's  noose  he  duly  tied, 
And  then  to  drive  a  nail  he  tried  ;  — 
But  by  his  blows  the  wall  gave  way, 

Now  tremulous  and  old, 
Disclosing  to  the  light  of  day 

A  sum  of  hidden  gold. 
He  clutched  it  up,  and  left  Despair 
To  struggle  with  his  halter  there. 
Nor  did  the  much  delighted  man 
E'en  stop  to  count  it  as  he  ran. 


172  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

But,  while  he  went,  the  owner  came, 
Who  loved  it  with  a  secret  flame, 
Too  much  indeed  for  kissing,  — 
And  found  his  money  —  missing  ! 
O  Heavens  !  he  cried,  shall  1 
Such  riches  lose,  and  still  not  die  ? 
Shall  I  not  hang  ?  —  as  I,  in  fact, 
Might  justly  do  if  cord  I  lacked , 
But  now,  without  expense,  I  can ; 
This  cord  here  only  lacks  a  man. 
The  saving  was  no  saving  clause ; 

It  suffered  not  his  heart  to  falter, 
Until  it  reached  its  final  pause 

As  full  possessor  of  the  halter. — 
5Tis  thus  the  miser  often  grieves. 
Who  e'er  the  benefit  receives 
Of  what  he  owns,  he  never  must  — 

Mere  treasurer  for  thieves, 

Or  relatives,  or  dust. 
But  what  say  we  about  the  trade 
In  this  affair  by  Fortune  made  ? 
Why,  what  but  that  it  was  just  like  her  ? 

fn  freaks  like  this  delighteth  she 

The  shorter  any  turn  may  be, 
The  better  it  is  sure  to  strike  her. 
It  fills  that  goddess  full  of  glee 
A  self-suspended  man  to  see  ; 
And  that  it  does  especially, 
When  made  so  unexpectedly. 


THE  MONKEY  AND  THE  CAT. 


THE  MONKEY   AND   THE   CAT. 

Sly  Bertrand  and  Ratto  in  company  sat, 
(The  one  was  a  monkey,  the  other  a  cat,) 
Co-servants  and  lodgers : 
More  mischievous  codgers 
Ne'er  messed  from  a  platter,  since  platters  were  flat. 
Was  any  thing  wrong  in  the  house  or  about  it, 
The  neighbors  were  blameless,  —  no  mortal  could 

doubt  it; 
For  Bertrand  was  thievish,  and  Ratto,  so  nice, 
More  attentive  to  cheese  than  he  was  to  the  mice. 
One  day  the  two  plunderers  sat  by  the  fire, 
Where  chestnuts  were  roasting,  with  looks  of  desire. 
To  steal  them  would  be  a  right  noble  affair. 
A  double  inducement  our  heroes  drew  there  — 
'T would  benefit  them,  could  they  swallow  their  fill, 
And  then  'twould  occasion  to  somebody  ill. 
Said  Bertrand  to  Ratto,  My  brother,  to-day 
Exhibit  your  powers  in  a  masterly  way, 
And  take  me  these  chestnuts,  I  pray, 
Which,  were  I  but  otherwise  fitted 
(As  I  am  ingeniously  witted) 


174  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

For  pulling  things  out  of  the  flame, 

Would  stand  but  a  pitiful  game. 
'Tis  done,  replied  Ratto,  all  prompt  to  obey ; 
And  thrust  out  his  paw  in  a  delicate  way. 

First  giving  the  ashes  a  scratch, 

He  opened  the  coveted  batch ; 

Then  lightly  and  quickly  impinging, 

He  drew  out,  in  spite  of  the  singeing, 
One  after  another,  the  chestnuts  at  last,  — 
While  Bertrand  contrived  to  devour  them  as  fast. 

A  servant  girl  enters.     Adieu  to  the  fun. 

Our  Ratto  was  hardly  contented,  says  one.  — - 

No  more  are  the  princes,  by  flattery  paid 
For  furnishing  help  in  a  different  trade, 
And  burning  their  fingers  to  bring 
More  power  to  some  mightier  king. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  175 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  HIS  FLOCK. 

What  !  shall  I  lose  them  one  by  one, 

This  stupid,  coward  throng  ? 
And  never  shall  the  wolf  have  done  ? 

They  were  at  least  a  thousand  strong, 
But  still  they've  let  poor  Robin  fall  a  prey ! 
Ah,  woe's  the  day  ! 

Poor  Robin  Wether  lying  dead ! 

He  followed  for  a  bit  of  bread 
His  master  through  the  crowded  city, 

And  would  have  followed,  had  he  led, 
Around  the  world.     O  !  what  a  pity  ! 

My  pipe,  and  even  step,  he  knew ; 

To  meet  me  when  I  came,  he  flew ; 
In  hedge-row  shade  we  napped  together; 

Alas,  alas,  my  Robin  Wether ! 
When  Willy  thus  had  duly  said 
His  eulogy  upon  the  dead, 
And  unto  everlasting  fame 
Consigned  poor  Robin  Wether's  name, 
He  then  harangued  the  flock  at  large, 

From  proud  old  chieftain  rams 

Down  to  the  smallest  lambs, 
Addressing  them  this  weighty  charge,  — 


176  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Against  the  wolf,  as  one,  to  stand, 
In  firm,  united,  fearless  band, 

By  which  they  might  expel  him  from  their  land. 
Upon  their  faith,  they  would  not  flinch, 
They  promised  him,  a  single  inch. 

We'll  choke,  said  they,  the  murderous  glutton 

Who  robbed  us  of  our  Robin  Mutton. 

Their  lives  they  pledged  against  the  beast, 
And  Willy  gave  them  all  a  feast. 
But  evil  Fate,  than  Phoebus  faster, 
Ere  night,  had  brought  a  new  disaster : 
A  wolf  there  came.     By  nature's  law, 
The  total  flock  were  prompt  to  run ; 
And  yet  'twas  not  the  wolf  they  saw, 

But  shadow  of  him,  from  the  setting  sun. 

Harangue  a  craven  soldiery, 
What  heroes  they  will  seem  to  be ! 
But  let  them  snuff  the  smoke  of  battle, 
Or  even  hear  the  ramrods  rattle, 
Adieu  to  all  their  spunk  and  mettle ; 
Your  own  example  will  be  vain, 
And  exhortations,  to  retain 
The  timid  cattle. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  177 


THE   SWAN   AND  THE  COOK. 

The  pleasures  of  a  poultry  yard 
Were  by  a  swan  and  gosling  shared. 
The  swan  was  kept  there  for  his  looks, 
The  thrifty  gosling  for  the  cooks,  — 
The  first  the  garden's  pride,  the  latter 
A  greater  favorite  on  the  platter. 
They  swam  the  ditches,  side  by  side, 
And  oft  in  sports  aquatic  vied, 
Plunging,  splashing  far  and  wide, 
With  rivalry  ne'er  satisfied. 

One  day  the  cook,  named  Thirsty  John, 
Sent  for  the  gosling,  took  the  swan, 
In  haste  his  throat  to  cut, 
And  put  him  in  the  pot. 
The  bird's  complaint  resounded 

In  glorious  melody ; 
Whereat  the  cook,  astounded 
His  sad  mistake  to  see, 
Cried,  What!  make  soup  of  a  musician! 
Please  God,  I'll  never  set  such  dish  on. 
No,  no ;  I'll  never  cut  a  throat 
That  sings  so  sweet  a  note. 

'Tis  thus,  whatever  peril  may  alarm  us, 
Sweet  words  will  never  harm  us. 


THE  WOLVES   AND    THE   SHEEP. 


By-gone  a  thousand  years  of  war, 

The  wearers  of  the  fleece 

And  wolves  at  last  made  peace  ; 
Which  both  appeared  the  better  for; 
For  if  the  wolves  had  now  and  then 

Eat  up  a  straggling  ewe  or  wether. 
As  often  had  the  shepherd  men 

Turned  wolf-skins  into  leather. 
Fear  always  spoiled  the  verdant  herbage, 
And  so  it  did  the  bloody  carnage. 
Hence  peace  was  sweet ;  and,  lest  it  should  be  riven 
On  both  sides  hostages  were  given. 
The  sheep,  as  by  the  terms  arranged, 
For  pups  of  wolves  their  dogs  exchanged ; 

Which  being  done  above  suspicion, 

Confirmed  and  sealed  by  high  commission. 
What  time  the  pups  were  fully  grown, 
And  felt  an  appetite  for  prey, 
And  saw  the  sheepfold  left  alone, 

The  shepherds  all  away, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


179 


They  seized  the  fattest  lambs  they  could, 
And,  choking,  dragged  them  to  the  wood 
Of  which  by  secret  means  apprized, 
Their  sires,  as  is  surmised, 
Fell  on  the  hostage  guardians  of  the  sheep, 
And  slew  them  all  asleep. 
So  quick  the  deed  of  perfidy  was  done, 
There  fled  to  tell  the  tale  not  one  ! 

From  which  we  may  conclude 
That  peace  with  villains  will  be  rued. 
Peace  in  itself,  'tis  true, 
May  be  a  good  for  you  ; 
But  rtis  an  evil,  nathless, 
When  enemies  are  faithless. 


PHILOMEL   AND   PROGNE. 

From  home  and  city  spires,  one  day, 

The  swallow  Progne  flew  away, 
And  sought  the  bosky  dell 
Where  sang  poor  Philomel. 
My  sister,  Progne  said,  how  do  you  do  ? 
'Tis  now  a  thousand  years  since  you 
Have  been  concealed  from  human  view. 
I'm  sure  I  have  not  seen  your  face 

Once  since  the  times  of  Thrace. 
Pray,  will  you  never  quit  this  dull  retreat? 
Where  could  I  find,  said  Philomel,  so  sweet] 

What !  sweet !  cried  Progne  — sweet  to  waste 

Such  tones  on  beasts  devoid  of  taste, 

Or  on  some  rustic,  at  the  most ! 

Should  you  by  deserts  be  engrossed  ? 

Come,  be  the  city's  pride  and  boast. 

Besides,  the  woods  remind  of  harms 

That  Tereus,  in  them,  did  your  charms. 
Alas !  replied  the  bird  of  song, 
The  thought  of  that  so  cruel  wrong 
Makes  me,  from  age  to  age, 
Prefer  this  hermitage  ; 

For  nothing  like  the  sight  of  men 

Can  call  up  what  I  suffered  then. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  181 


THE  WOMAN  DROWNED. 

1  hate  that  saying,  old  and  savage, 
"  'Tis  nothing  but  a  woman  drowning." 
That's  much,  I  say.  What  grief  more  keen  should 
have  edge 
Than  loss  of  her,  of  all  our  joys  the  crowning? 
Thus  much  suggests  the  fable  I  am  borrowing. 
A  woman  perished  in  the  water, 
Where,  anxiously  and  sorrowing, 
Her  husband  sought,  her, 
To  ease  the  grief  he  could  not  cure, 
By  honored  rites  of  sepulture. 
It  chanced  that  near  the  fatal  spot, 
Along  the  stream  which  had 
Produced  a  death  so  sad, 
There  walked  some  men  that  knew  it  not 
The  husband  asked  if  they  had  seen 
His  wife,  or  aught  that  hers  had  been. 
One  promptly  answered,  No : 
But  search  the  stream  below : 
It  must  have  borne  her  in  its  flow. 


1Q2  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

No,  said  another ;  search  above. 

In  that  direction 
She  would  have  floated,  by  the  love 

Of  contradiction. 

This  joke  was  truly  out  of  season  ;  — 
1  don't  propose  to  weigh  its  reason. 
But  whether  such  propensity 

The  sex's  fault  may  be, 
Or  not,  one  thing  is  very  sure, 
Its  own  propensities  endure. 
Up  to  the  end  they'll  have  their  will, 
And,  if  it  could  be,  further  still. 


THE  LION  BEATEN  BY  THE  MAN. 

A  picture  once  was  shown, 
In  which  one  man,  alone, 
Upon  the  ground  had  thrown 
A  lion  fully  grown. 

Much  gloried  at  the  sight  the  rabble. 

A  lion  thus  rebuked  their  babble  :  — 

That  you  have  got  the  victory  there, 
There  is  no  contradiction. 

But,  gentles,  possibly  you  are 
The  dupes  of  easy  fiction. 
Had  we  the  art  of  making  pictures, 
Perhaps  our  champion  had  lick'd  yours ! 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  183 


THE  WEASEL  IN  THE  GRANARY. 

A  weasel  through  a  hole  contrived  to  squeeze, 
(She  was  recovering  from  disease,) 
.  Which  led  her  to  a  farmer's  hoard. 
There  lodged,  her  wasted  form  she  cherished ; 
Heaven  knows  the  lard  and  victuals  stored 
That  by  her  gnawing  perished ! 
Of  which  the  consequence 
Was  sudden  corpulence, 
A  week  or  so  was  past, 
When,  having  fully  broken  fast, 

A  noise  she  heard,  and  hurried 
To  find  the  hole  by  which  she  came, 
And  seemed  to  find  it  not  the  same  ; 

So  round  she  ran,  most  sadly  flurried ; 
And,  coming  back,  thrust  out  her  head, 
Which  sticking  there,  she  said, 
This  is  the  hole ;  there  can't  be  blunder : 
What  makes  it  now  so  small,  I  wonder, 
Where,  but  the  other  day,  1  passed  with  ease  ? 
A  rat  her  trouble  sees, 
And  cries,  But  with  an  emptier  belly ; 
You  entered  lean,  and  lean  must  sally. 

What  I  have  said  to  you 
Has  eke  been  said  to  not  a  few, 
Who,  in  a  vast  variety  of  cases, 
Have  ventured  into  such  like  places. 


184  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  CAT  AND  THE  OLD  RAT. 

A  story-writer  of  our  sort 

Historifies,  in  short, 

Of  one  that  may  be  reckoned 

A  Rodilard  the  Second,  — 

The  Alexander  of  the  cats, 

The  Attila,  the  scourge  of  rats, 

Whose  fierce  and  whiskered  head 

Among  the  latter  spread, 

A  league  around,  its  dread; 

Who  seemed,  indeed,  determined 

The  world  should  be  unvermined. 
The  planks  with  props  more  false  than  slim, 
The  tempting  heaps  of  poisoned  meal, 
The  traps  of  wire  and  traps  of  steel, 
Were  only  play  compared  with  him. 
At  length,  so  sadly  were  they  scared, 
The  rats  and  mice  no  longer  dared 

To  show  their  thievish  faces 

Outside  their  hiding-places, 
Thus  shunning  all  pursuit ;  whereat 
Our  crafty  General  Cat 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  185 

Contrived  to  hang  himself,  as  dead, 
Beside  the  wall,  with  downward  head, 
Resisting  gravitation's  laws 
By  clinging  with  his  hinder  claws 
To  some  small  bit  of  string. 
The  rats  esteemed  the  thing 
A  judgment  for  some  naughty  deed, 
Some  thievish  snatch. 
Or  ugly  scratch , 
And  thought  their  foe  had  got  his  meed 
By  being  hung  indeed. 
With  hope  elated  all 
Of  laughing  at  his  funeral, 
They  thrust  their  noses  out  in  air ; 
And  now  to  show  their  heads  they  dare, 
Now  dodging  back,  now  venturing  more  ; 
At  last,  upon  the  larder's  store 
They  fall  to  filching,  as  of  yore. 
A  scanty  feast  enjoyed  these  shallows ; 
Down  dropped  the  hung  one  from  his  gallows, 
And  of  the  hindmost  caught. 
Some  other  tricks  to  me  are  known, 
Said  he,  while  tearing  bone  from  bone, 

By  long  experience  taught ; 
The  point  is  settled,  free  from  doubt, 
That  from  your  holes  you  shall  come  out. 
His  threat  as  good  as  prophecy 
Was  proved  by  Mr.  Mildandsly ; 
For,  putting  on  a  mealy  robe, 
He  squatted  in  an  open  tub, 


18Q  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  held  his  purring  and  his  breath ;  — 
Out  came  the  vermin  to  their  death. 
On  this  occasion  one  old  stager, 
A  rat  as  gray  as  any  badger, 
Who  had  in  battle  lost  his  tail, 
Abstained  from  smelling  at  the  meal ; 
And  cried,  far  off,  Ah !  General  Cat, 
I  much  suspect  a  heap  like  that ; 
Your  meal  is  not  the  thing,  perhaps, 
For  one  who  knows  somewhat  of  traps ; 
Should  you  a  sack  of  meal  become, 
I'd  let  you  be,  and  stay  at  home. 

Well  said,  I  think,  and  prudently, 
By  one  who  knew  distrust  to  be 
The  parent  of  security. 


w>.JY<l!P 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  THE  SEA. 


A  shepherd,  neighbor  to  the  sea, 
Lived  with  his  flock  contentedly. 
His  fortune,  though  but  small, 
Was  safe  within  his  call. 
At  last  some  stranded  kegs  of  gold 
Him  tempted,  and  his  flock  he  sold, 
Turned  merchant,  and  the  ocean's  waves 
Bore  all  his  treasure  —  to  its  caves. 
Brought  back  to  keeping  sheep  once  more, 
But  not  chief  shepherd,  as  before, 
When  sheep  were  his  that  grazed  the  shore, 
He  who,  as  Cory  don  or  Thyrsis, 
Might  once  have  shone  in  pastoral  verses, 
Bedecked  with  rhyme  and  metre, 
Was  nothing  now  but  Peter. 
But  time  and  toil  redeemed  in  full 
Those  harmless  creatures  rich  in  wool ; 
And  as  the  lulling  winds,  one  day, 
The  vessels  wafted  with  a  gentle  motion, 
Want  you,  he  cried,  more  money,  Madam  Ocean  1 


188  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Address  yourself  to  some  one  else,  1  pray; 
You  shall  not  get  it  out  of  me ; 
I  know  too  well  your  treachery. 

This  tale's  no  fiction,  but  a  fact, 

Which,  by  experience  backed, 

Proves  that  a  single  penny, 
At  present  held,  and  certain, 

Is  worth  five  times  as  many 
Of  Hope's  beyond  the  curtain  ; 
That  one  should  be  content  with  his  condition, 
And  shut  his  ears  to  counsels  of  ambition, 
More  faithless  than  the  wreck-strown  sea,  and  which 
Doth  thousands  beggar  where  it  makes  one  rich, — 
Inspires  the  hope  of  wealth,  in  glorious  forms, 
And  blasts  the  same  with  piracy  and  storms. 


THE   MAN   AND   THE   ADDER. 


You  villain !  cried  a  man  who  found 
An  adder  coiled  upon  the  ground, 
To  do  a  very  grateful  deed 
For  all  the  world,  I  shall  proceed. 
On  this  the  animal  perverse 
(I  mean  the  snake ; 
Pray  don't  mistake 
The  human  for  the  worse) 
Was  caught  and  bagged,  and,  worst  of  all, 
His  blood  was  by  his  captor  to  be  spilt 
Without  regard  to  innocence  or  guilt. 
Howe'er,  to  show  the  why,  these  words  let  fall 
His  judge  and  jailer,  proud  and  tall :  — 
Thou  type  of  all  ingratitude  ! 

All  charity  to  hearts  like  thine 
Is  folly,  certain  to  be  rued. 
Die,  then, 
Thou  foe  of  men  ! 
Thy  temper  and  thy  teeth  malign 
Shall  never  hurt  a  hair  of  mine. 
The  muffled  serpent,  on  his  side, 
The  best  a  serpent  could,  replied,  — 


190  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

If  all  this  world's  ingrates 

Must  meet  with  such  a  death, 
Who  from  this  worst  of  fates 
Could  save  his  breath  ? 
Upon  thyself  thy  law  recoils  ; 
I  throw  myself  upon  thy  broils, 
Thy  graceless  revelling  on  spoils ; 
If  thou  but  homeward  cast  an  eye, 
Thy  deeds  all  mine  will  justify. 
But  strike  :  my  life  is  in  thy  hand  ; 
Thy  justice,  all  may  understand, 
Is  but  thy  interest,  pleasure,  or  caprice  :  — 
Pronounce  my  sentence  on  such  laws  as  these. 
But  give  me  leave  to  tell  thee,  while  I  can, 
The  type  of  all  ingratitude  is  man. 
By  such  a  lecture  somewhat  foiled, 
The  other  back  a  step  recoiled, 
And  finally  replied, — 
Thy  reasons  are  abusive, 
And  wholly  inconclusive. 
I  might  the  case  decide 
Because  to  me  such  right  belongs ; 
But  let 's  refer  the  case  of  wrongs. 
The  snake  agreed;  they  to  a  cow  referred  it, 
Who,  being  called,  came  graciously  and  heard  it. 
Then,  summing  up,  What  need,  said  she 
In  such  a  case,  to  call  on  me  ? 
The  adder  's  right,  plain  truth  to  bellow ; 
For  years  I've  nursed  this  haughty  fellow, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  191 

Who,  but  for  me,  had  long  ago 

Been  lodging  with  the  shades  below. 

For  him  my  milk  has  had  to  flow, 
My  calves,  at  tender  age,  to  die. 

And  for  this  best  of  wealth, 

And  often  reestablished  health, 

What  pay,  or  even  thanks,  have  I  ? 

Here,  feeble,  old,  and  worn,  alas ! 

Pm  left  without  a  bite  of  grass. 
Were  I  but  left,  it  might  be  weathered, 
But,  shame  to  say  it,  I  am  tethered. 
And  now  my  fate  is  surely  sadder 
Than  if  my  master  were  an  adder, 

With  brains  within  the  latitude 

Of  such  immense  ingratitude. 

This,  gentles,  is  my  honest  view ; 

And  so  I  bid  you  both  adieu. 
The  man,  confounded  and  astonished 
To  be  so  faithfully  admonished, 

Replied,  What  fools  to  listen,  now, 

To  this  old,  silly,  dotard  cow ! 

Let 's  trust  the  ox.     Let 's  trust,  replied 

The  crawling  beast,  well  gratified. 
So  said,  so  done  ; 

The  ox,  with  tardy  pace,  came  on, 

And,  ruminating  o'er  the  case, 

Declared,  with  very  serious  face, 

That  years  of  his  most  painful  toil 

Had  clothed  with  Ceres'  gifts  our  soil  — 

Her  gifts  to  men  — but  always  sold 

To  beasts  for  higher  cost  than  gold  ; 


192  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And  that  for  this,  for  his  reward, 

More  blows  than  thanks  returned  his  lord ; 

And  then,  when  age  had  chilled  his  blood, 

And  men  would  quell  the  wrath  of  Heaven, 
Out  must  be  poured  the  vital  flood, 

For  others'  sins,  all  thankless  given. 
So  spake  the  ox ;  and  then  the  man  :  — 

Away  with  such  a  dull  declaimer ! 
Instead  of  judge,  it  is  his  plan 

To  play  accuser  and  defamer. 
A  tree  was  next  the  arbitrator, 
And  made  the  wrong  of  man  still  greater. 
It  served  as  refuge  from  the  heat, 
The  showers,  and  storms,  which  madly  beat ; 
It  grew  our  gardens'  greatest  pride, 
Its  shadow  spreading  far  and  wide, 
And  bowed  itself  with  fruit  beside. 
But  yet  a  mercenary  clown 
With  cruel  iron  chopped  it  down. 
Behold  the  recompense  for  which, 
Year  after  year,  it  did  enrich, 
With  spring's  sweet  flowers,  and  autumn's  fruits, 
And  summer's  shade,  both  men  and  brutes, 
And  warmed  the  hearth  with  many  a  limb 
Which  winter  from  its  top  did  trim. 
Why  could  not  man  have  pruned  and  spared, 
And  with  itself  for  ages  shared  ? 
Much  scorning  thus  to  be  convinced, 

The  man  resolved  his  cause  to  gain. 
Quoth  he,  My  goodness  is  evinced 

By  hearing  this,  'tis  very  plain ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  193 

Then  flung  the  serpent,  bag  and  all, 
With  fatal  force,  against  a  wall. 

So  ever  is  it  with  the  great, 
With  whom  the  whim  doth  always  run 

That  Heaven  all  creatures  doth  create 
For  their  behoof,  beneath  the  sun  — 
Count  they  four  feet,  or  two,  or  none. 
If  one  should  dare  the  fact  dispute, 
He's  straight  set  down  a  stupid  brute. 
Now,  grant  it  so,  —  such  lords  among, 
What  should  be  done,  or  said,  or  sung? 
At  distance  speak,  or  hold  jour  tongue. 


THE  DOCTORS. 

The  selfsame  patient  put  to  test. 
Two  doctors,  Fear-the-worst  and  Hope-the-best. 
The  latter  hoped  ;  the  former  did  maintain 
The  man  would  take  all  medicine  in  vain. 
By  different  cures  the  patient  was  beset, 
But  erelong  canceled  nature's  debt, 

While  nursed 
As  was  prescribed  by  Fear-the-worst. 
But  over  the  disease  both  triumphed  still. 

Said  one,  I  well  foresaw  his  death. 
Yes,  said  the  other,  but  my  pill 

W:ould  certainly  have  saved  his  breath. 


THE  TORTOISE   AND  THE   TWO  DUCKS. 

A  light-brained  tortoise,  anciently, 
Tired  of  her  hole,  the  world  would  see. 
Prone  are  all  such,  self-banished,  to  roam  — 
Prone  are  all  cripples  to  abhor  their  home. 
Two  ducks,  to  whom  the  gossip  told 
The  secret  of  her  purpose  bold, 

Professed  to  have  the  means  whereby 
They  could  her  wishes  gratify. 
Our  boundless  road,  said  they,  behold ! 
It  is  the  open  air  ; 
And  through  it  we  will  bear 
You  safe  o'er  land  and  ocean. 
Republics,  kingdoms,  you  will  view, 
And  famous  cities,  old  and  new ; 

And  get  of  customs,  laws,  a  notion,  — 
Of  various  wisdom  various  pieces, 
As  did,  indeed,  the  sage  Ulysses. 
The  eager  tortoise  waited  not 
To  question  what  Ulysses  got, 
But  closed  the  bargain  on  the  spot. 
A  nice  machine  the  birds  devise 
To  bear  their  pilgrim  through  the  skies* 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


195 


Athwart  her  mouth  a  stick  they  throw : 
Now  bite  it  hard,  and  don't  let  go, 
They  say,  and  seize  each  duck  an  end, 
And,  swiftly  flying,  upward  tend. 
It  made  the  people  gape  and  stare 

Beyond  the  expressive  power  of  words, 
To  see  a  tortoise  cut  the  air, 

Exactly  poised  between  two  birds. 
A  miracle,  they  cried,  is  seen ! 
There  goes  the  flying  tortoise  queen ! 
The  queen  !  ('twas  thus  the  tortoise  spoke ;) 
I'm  truly  that,  without  a  joke. 
Much  better  had  she  held  her  tongue ; 
For,  opening  that  whereby  she  clung, 
Before  the  gazing  crowd  she  fell, 
And  dashed  to  bits  her  brittle  shell. 

Imprudence,  vanity,  and  babble, 

And  idle  curiosity, 
An  ever-undivided  rabble, 

Have  all  the  same  paternity. 


196  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  FISHES   AND  THE  CORMORANT. 

No  pond  nor  pool  within  his  haunt 
But  paid  a  certain  cormorant 
Its  contribution  from  its  fishes, 
And  stocked  his  kitchen  with  good  dishes. 
Yet,  when  old  age  the  bird  had  chilled, 
His  kitchen  was  less  amply  filled. 
All  cormorants,  however  gray, 
Must  die,  or  for  themselves  purvey. 
But  ours  had  now  Lecome  so  blind, 
His  finny  prey  he  could  not  find  ; 
And,  having  neither  hook  nor  net, 
His  appetite  was  poorly  met. 
What  hope,  with  famine  thus  infested  ? 

Necessity,  whom  history  mentions 

A  famous  mother  of  inventions, 
The  following  stratagem  suggested  :  — 
He  found  upon  the  water's  brink 
A  crab,  to  which  said  he,  My  friend, 
A  weighty  errand  let  me  send ; 

Go  quicker  than  a  wink  — 

Down  to  the  fishes  sink, 


THE  TORTOISE  AND  THE  TWO  DUCKS. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  197 

And  tell  them  they  are  doomed  to  die ; 

For,  ere  eight  days  have  hastened  by, 

Its  lord  will  fish  this  water  dry. 
The  crab,  as  fast  as  she  could  scrabble, 
Went  down,  and  told  the  scaly  rabble. 
What  bustling,  gathering,  agitation  ! 
Straight  up  they  send  a  deputation 

To  wait  upon  the  ancient  bird. 

Sir  Cormorant,  whence  hast  thou  heard 
This  dreadful  news  ?    And  what 

Assurance  of  it  hast  thou  got  ? 

How  such  a  danger  can  we  shun  ? 

Pray  tell  us,  what  is  to  be  done  ? 

Why,  change  your  dwelling-place,  said  he. 

What,  change  our  dwelling !     How  can  we  ? 

O,  by  your  leave,  I'll  take  that  care, 

And,  one  by  one,  in  safety  bear 
You  all  to  my  retreat : 
The  path's  unknown 

To  any  feet, 
Except  my  own. 

A  pool,  scooped  out  by  Nature's  hands, 

Amidst  the  desert  rocks  and  sands, 

Where  human  traitors  never  come, 

Shall  save  your  people  from  their  doom. 

The  fish  republic  swallowed  all, 

And,  coming  at  the  fellow's  call, 

Were  singly  borne  away  to  stock 

A  pond  beneath  a  lonely  rock ; 


198  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And  there  good  prophet  cormorant, 
Proprietor  and  bailiff  sole, 
From  narrow  water,  clear  and  shoal, 
With  ease  supplied  his  daily  want, 
And  taught  them,  at  their  own  expense, 
That  heads  well  stored  with  common  sense 
Give  no  devourers  confidence.  — 
Still  did  the  change  not  hurt  their  case, 
Since,  had  they  staid,  the  human  race, 
Successful  by  pernicious  art, 
Would  have  consumed  as  large  a  part. 
What  matters  who  your  flesh  devours, 
Of  human  or  of  bestial  powers  ? 
In  this  respect,  or  wild  or  tame, 
All  stomachs  seem  to  me  the  same : 
The  odds  is  small,  in  point  of  sorrow, 
Of  death  to-day,  or  death  to-morrow. 


\V   i'-?   ----;  ,!<_,,/ 


4^ 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  199 


THE  BURIER  AND  HIS  COMRADE. 

A  close-fist  had  his  money  hoarded 

Beyond  the  room  his  till  afforded. 

His  avarice  aye  growing  ranker, 

(Whereby  his  mind  of  course  grew  blanker  J 

He  was  perplexed  to  choose  a  banker ; 
For  banker  he  must  have,  he  thought, 
Or  all  his  heap  would  come  to  nought. 
I  fear,  said  he,  if  kept  at  home, 
And  other  robbers  should  not  come, 
It  might  be  equal  cause  of  grief 
That  I  had  proved  myself  the  thief. 
The  thief!    Is  to  enjoy  one's  pelf 
To  rob  or  steal  it  from  one's  self? 

My  friend,  could  but  my  pity  reach  you. 

This  lesson  I  would  gladly  teach  you,  — 
That  wealth  is  weal  no  longer  than 
Diffuse  and  part  with  it  you  can  : 
Without  that  power,  it  is  a  woe. 
Would  you  for  age  keep  back  its  flow  t 
Age  buried  'neath  its  joyless  snow? 
With  pains  of  getting,  care  of  got 
Consumes  the  value,  every  jot, 
Of  gold  that  one  can  never  spare. 
To  take  the  load  of  such  a  care, 
Assistants  were  not  very  rare. 


200  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

The  earth  was  that  which  pleased  him  best. 
Dismissing  thought  of  all  the  rest, 
He  with  his  friend,  his  trustiest,  — 
A  sort  of  shovel-secretary,  — 
Went  forth  his  hoard  to  bury. 
Safe  done,  a  few  days  afterward, 
The  man  must  look  beneath  the  sward  — 
When,  what  a  mystery  !  behold 
The  mine  exhausted  of  its  gold ! 
Suspecting,  with  the  best  of  cause, 
His  friend  was  privy  to  his  loss, 
He  bade  him,  in  a  cautious  mood, 
To  come  as  soon  as  well  he  could, 
For  still  some  other  coins  he  had, 
Which  to  the  rest  he  wished  to  add. 
Expecting  thus  to  get  the  whole, 
The  friend  put  back  the  sum  he  stole, 
Then  came  with  all  despatch. 
The  other  proved  an  overmatch: 
Resolved  at  length  to  save  by  spending, 
His  practice  thus  most  wisely  mending, 
The  total  treasure  home  he  carried  — 
No  longer  hoarded  it  or  buried. 

Chapfallen  was  the  thief,  when  gone 
He  saw  his  prospects  and  his  pawn. 

From  this  it  may  be  stated, 

That  knaves  with  ease  are  cheated. 


THE   WOLF   AND   THE    SHEPHERDS. 

A  wolf,  replete 
With  humanity  sweet, 

(A  trait  not  much  suspected,) 
On  his  cruel  deeds, 
The  fruit  of  his  needs, 

Profoundly  thus  reflected. 

I'm  hated,  said  he, 

As  joint  enemy, 
By  hunters,  dogs,  and  clowns. 

They  swear  I  shall  die, 

And  their  hue  and  cry 
The  very  thunder  drowns. 


My  brethren  have  fled, 
With  price  on  the  head, 

From  England's  merry  land. 
King  Edgar  came  out, 
And  put  them  to  rout, 

With  many  a  deadly  band. 


202  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And  there's  not  a  squire 
But  blows  up  the  fire 

By  hostile  proclamation ; 
Nor  a  human  brat 
Dares  cry,  but  that 

Its  mother  mocks  my  nation. 

And  all  for  what  ? 

For  a  sheep  with  the  rot, 
Or  scabby,  mangy  ass, 

Or  some  snarling  cur, 

With  less  meat  than  fur, 
On  which  I've  broken  fast ! 

Well,  henceforth  I'll  strive 
That  nothing  alive 

Shall  die  to  quench  my  thirst; 
No  lambkin  shall  fall, 
Nor  puppy,  at  all, 

To  glut  my  maw  accurst. 
With  grass  I'll  appease, 
Or  browse  on  the  trees, 

Or  die  of  famine  first. 

What  of  carcass  warm  ? 

Is  it  worth  the  storm 
Of  universal  hate  ? 

As  he  spoke  these  words, 

The  lords  of  the  herds, 
All  seated  at  their  bait, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  203 

He  saw ;  and  observed 

The  meat  which  was  served 
Was  nought  but  roasted  lamb ! 

O !  O  !  said  the  beast, 

Repent  of  my  feast  — 
All  butcher  as  I  am  — 

On  these  vermin  mean, 

Whose  guardians  e'en 
Eat  at  a  rate  quadruple  !  — 

Themselves  and  their  dogs, 

As  greedy  as  hogs, 
And  I,  a  wolf,  to  scruple ! 

Look  out  for  your  wool ! 

I'll  not  be  a  fool, 
The  very  pet  I'll  eat ; 

The  lamb  the  best  looking, 

Without  any  cooking, 
I'll  strangle  from  the  teat; 

And  swallow  the  dam, 

As  well  as  the  lamb, 
And  stop  her  foolish  bleat. 

Old  Hornie,  too,  —  rot  him, — 

The  sire  that  begot  him 
Shall  be  among  my  meat ! 

Well-reasoning  beast ! 
Were  we  sent  to  feast 
On  creatures  wild  and  tame  ? 


204  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  shall  we  reduce 
The  beasts  to  the  use 
Of  vegetable  game  ? 

Shall  animals  not 
Have  flesh-hook  or  pot, 

As  in  the  age  of  gold  ? 
And  we  claim  the  right, 
In  the  pride  of  our  might, 

Themselves  to  have  and  hold? 

O,  shepherds  that  keep 
Your  folds  full  of  sheep, 

The  wolf  was  only  wrong 
Because,  so  to  speak, 
His  jaws  were  too  weak 

To  break  jour  palings  strong. 


p^ 


"  ■  v .;    ;; 


WJ113ILI3    IFHSSttQ 


THE   LION 


ome  time  ago,  a  sultan  Leopard, 
By  means  of  many  a  rich  escheat, 
Had  many  an  ox  in  meadow,  sweet, 
And  many  a  stag  in  forest,  fleet, 
And  (what  a  savage  sort  of  shepherd !) 
Full  many  a  sheep  upon  the  plains, 
That  lay  within  his  wide  domains 
Not  far  away,  one  morn, 
There  was  a  lion  born. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Exchanged  high  compliments  of  state, 
As  is  the  custom  with  the  great, 
The  sultan  called  his  vizier  Fox, 
Who  had  a  deeper  knowledge-box, 
And  said  to  him,  This  lion's  whelp  you  dread  ; 
What  can  he  do,  his  father  being  dead? 
Our  pity  rather  let  him  share, 
An  orphan  so  beset  with  care. 
The  luckiest  lion  ever  known, 
If,  letting  conquest  quite  alone, 
He  should  have  power  to  keep  his  own. 
•  Sir  Ren  a  id  said, 
And  shook  his  head, 
Such  orphans,  please  your  majesty, 
Will  get  no  pity  out  of  me. 
We  ought  to  keep  within  his  favor, 
Or  else  with  all  our  might  endeavor 
To  thrust  him  out  of  life  and  throne, 
Ere  yet  his  claws  and  teeth  are  grown. 
There's  not  a  moment  to  be  lost. 

His  horoscope  I've  cast; 
He'll  never  quarrel  to  his  cost ; 
But  then  his  friendship  fast 
Will  be  to  friends  of  greater  worth 
Than  any  lion's  e'er  on  earth. 
Try  then,  my  liege,  to  make  it  ours, 
Or  else  to  check  his  rising  powers. 

The  warning  fell  in  vain. 
The  sultan  slept ;  and  beasts  and  men 
Did  so,  throughout  his  whole  domain, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  207 

Till  lion's  whelp  became  a  lion. 
Then  came  at  once  the  tocsin  cry  on, 
Alarm  and  fluttering  consternation. 
The  vizier  called  to  consultation, 

A  sigh  escaped  him  as  he  said, 

Why  all  this  mad  excitement  now, 
When  hope  is  fled,  no  matter  how  ? 

A  thousand  men  were  useless  aid,  — 

The  more,  the  worse, — since  all  their  power 

Would  be  our  mutton  to  devour. 

Appease  this  lion  ;  sole  he  doth  exceed 

The  helpers  all  that  on  us  feed. 

And  three  hath  he,  that  cost  him  nought  — 

His  courage,  strength,  and  watchful  thought. 

Quick  send  a  wether  for  his  use  : 
If  not  contented,  send  him  more  ; 

Yes,  add  an  ox,  and  see  you  choose 
The  best  our  pastures  ever  bore. 

Thus  save  the  rest.  —  But  such  advice 

The  sultan  spurned,  as  cowardice. 

And  his,  and  many  states  beside, 

Did  ills,  in  consequence,  betide. 

However  fought  this  world  allied, 

The  beast  maintained  his  power  and  pride. 

If  you  must  let  the  lion  grow, 

Don't  let  him  live  to  be  your  foe. 


208  LA    FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE   SPIDER   AND   THE  SWALLOW.  "V 

O  Jupiter,  whose  fruitful  brain, 
By  odd  obstetrics  freed  from  pain, 
Bore  Pallas,  erst  my  mortal  foe, 
Pray  listen  to  my  tale  of  woe. 
This  Progne  takes  my  lawful  prey. 
As  through  the  air  she  cuts  her  way, 
And  skims  the  waves  in  seeming  play, 
My  flies  she  catches  from  my  door,  — 

Yes,  mine  —  I  emphasize  the  word,  — 

And,  but  for  this  accursed  bird, 
My  net  would  hold  an  ample  store ; 
For  I  have  woven  it  of  stuff 
To  hold  the  strongest  strong  enough. — 
'Twas  thus,  in  terms  of  insolence, 
Complained  the  fretful  spider,  once 

Of  palace-tapestry  a  weaver, 

But  then  a  spinster  and  deceiver, 
That  hoped  within  her  toils  to  bring 
Of  insects  all  that  ply  the  wing. 
The  sister  swift  of  Philomel, 
Intent  on  business,  prospered  well ; 
In  spite  of  the  complaining  pest, 
The  insects  carried  to  her  nest  — 


THE  SPIDER  AND  THE  SWALLOW. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  209 

Nest  pitiless  to  suffering  flies  — 
Mouths  gaping  aye,  to  gormandize, 

Of  young  ones  clamoring, 
And  stammering, 
With  unintelligible  cries. 
The  spider,  with  but  head  and  feet, 

And  powerless  to  compete 

Witli  wings  so  fleet, 

Soon  saw  herself  a  prey. 
The  swallow,  passing  swiftly  by, 

Bore  web  and  all  away, 
The  spinster  dangling  in  the  sky ! 

Two  tables  hath  our  Maker  set 
For  all  that  in  this  world  are  met. 
To  seats  around  the  first 
The  skilful,  vigilant,  and  strong  are  beckoned : 

Their  hunger  and  their  thirst 
The  rest  must  quell  with  leavings  at  the  second. 


210  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

THE   PARTRIDGE   AND   THE  COCKS. 

With  a  set  of  uncivil  and  turbulent  cocks, 
That  deserved  for  their  noise  to  he  put  in  tin4  stocks, 
A  partridge  was  placed  to  he  reared. 
Her  sex,  by  politeness  revered, 
Made  her  hope,  from  a  gentry  devoted  to  love. 
For  the  courtesy  due  to  the  tenderest  dove ; 
Nay,  protection  chivalric  from  knights  of  the  yard. 
That  gentry,  however,  with  little  regard 
For  the  honors  and  knighthood  wherewith  they 

were  decked, 
And  for  the  strange  lady  as  little  respect, 
Her  ladyship  often  most  horribly  pecked. 
At  first,  she  was  greatly  afflicted  therefor, 
But  when  she  had  noticed  these  madcaps  at  war 
With  each  other,  and  dealing  far  bloodier  blows, 
Consoling  her  own  individual  woes,  — - 
Entailed  by  their  customs,  said  she,  is  the  shame ; 
Let  us  pity  the  simpletons,  rather  than  blame. 
Our  Maker  creates  not  all  spirits  the  same  ; 
The  cocks  and  the  partridges  certainly  differ, 
By  a  nature  than  laws  of  civility  stiffer. 
Were  the  choice  to  be  mine,  I  would  finish  my  life 
In  society  freer  from  riot  and  strife. 

But  the  lord  of  this  soil  has  a  different  plan  , 
His  tunnel  our  race  to  captivity  brings, 
He  throws  us  with  cocks, after  clipping  our  wings. 

'Tis  little  we  have  to  complain  of  but  man.  - 


THE  SHEPHERD  AND  THE  KING. 

-Two  demons  at  their  pleasure  share  our  being — 
-     The  cause  of  Reason  from  her  homestead  fleeing; 
No  heart  but  on  their  altars  kindleth  flames. 
If  you  demand  their  purposes  and  names, 
^  The  one  is  Love,  the  other  is  Ambition.  v 
Of  far  the  greater  share  this  takes  possession, 

For  even  into  love  it  enters, 
Which  I  might  prove ;  but  now  my  story  centres 
Upon  a  shepherd  clothed  with  lofty  powers : 
The  tale  belongs  to  older  times  than  ours. 

A  king  observed  a  flock,  wide  spread 
Upon  the  plains,  most  admirably  fed, 
Overpaying  largely,  as  returned  the  years, 
Their  shepherd's  care,  by  harvests  for  his  shears. 
Such  pleasure  in  this  man  the  monarch  took,  — 
Thou  meritest,  said  he,  to  wield  a  crook 
O'er  higher  flock  than  this ;  and  my  esteem 
O'er  men  now  makes  thee  judge  supreme. 
Behold  our  shepherd,  scales  in  hand, 
Although  a  hermit  and  a  wolf  or  two, 
Resides  his  flock  and  dogs,  were  all  he  knew ! 
Well  stocked  with  sense,  all  else  upon  demand 
Would  come  of  course,  and  did,  we  understand. 


212  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

His  neighbor  hermit  came  to  him  to  say, 

Am  I  awake  ?    Is  this  no  dream,  I  pray  ? 

You  favorite  !  you  great !  beware  of  kings  ; 
Their  favors  are  but  slippery  things, 

Dear-bought ;  to  mount  the  heights  to  which  they  call, 

Is  but  to  court  a  more  illustrious  fall. 

You  little  know  to  what  this  lure  beguiles. 

My  friend,  I  say,  Beware.     The  other  smiles. 
The  hermit  adds,  See  how 

The  court  has  marred  your  wisdom  even  now! 
That  purblind  traveller  I  seem  to  see, 
Who,  having  lost  his  whip,  by  strange  mistake, 

Took  for  a  better  one  a  snake  ; 
But,  while  he  thanked  his  stars,  brimful  of  glee, 

Outcried  a  passenger,  God  shield  your  breast ! 

Why,  man,  for  life,  throw  down  that  treacherous 
pest, 

That  snake  !  —  It  is  my  whip.  —  A  snake,  I  say: 

What  selfish  end  could  prompt  my  warning,  pray  ? 

Think  you  to  keep  your  prize  ? — And  wherefore  not  ? 
My  whip  was  worn  ;   Pve  found  another  new : 
This  counsel  grave  from  envy  springs  in  you.— 

The  stubborn  wight  would  not  believe  a  jot, 
Till  warm  and  lithe  the  serpent  grew, 
And,  striking  with  his  venom,  slew 
The  man  almost  upon  the  spot. 
And  as  to  you,  I  dare  predict 
That  something  worse  will  soon  afflict. 

Indeed  ?   What  worse  than  death,  prophetic  hermit? 

Perhaps  the  compound  heartache  I  may  term  it. 


LA  FONTAINES   FABLES.  213 

And  never  was  there  truer  prophecy. 
Full  many  a  courtier  pest,  by  many  a  lie, 

Contrived,  and  many  a  cruel  slander, 
To  make  the  king  suspect  the  judge  awry 

in  both  ability  and  candor. 
Cabals  were  raised,  and  dark  conspiracies, 
Of  men  that  felt  aggrieved  by  his  decrees. 
With  wealth  of  ours  he  hath  a  palace  built, 
Said  they.     The  king,  astonished  at  his  guilt, 
His  ill-got  riches  asked  to  see. 
He  found  but  mediocrity, 
Bespeaking  strictest  honesty. 
So  much  for  his  magnificence. 
Anon,  his  plunder  was  a  hoard  immense 
Of  precious  stones  that  filled  an  iron  box, 
All  fast  secured  by  half  a  score  of  locks. 
Himself  the  coffer  oped,  and  sad  surprise 
Befell  those  manufacturers  of  lies. 
The  opened  lid  disclosed  no  other  matters 
Than,  first,  a  shepherd's  suit  in  tatters, 
And  then  a  cap  and  jacket,  pipe  and  crook, 
And  scrip,  mayhap  with  pebbles  from  the  brook 
O  treasure  sweet,  said  he,  that  never  drew 
The  viper  brood  of  envy's  lies  on  you ! 
[  take  you  back,  and  leave  this  palace  splendid, 
As  some  roused  sleeper  doth  a  dream  that's  ended 
Forgive  me,  sire,  this  exclamation. 
In  mounting  up,  my  fall  1  had  foreseen, 
Yet  loved  the  height  too  well ;  for  who  hath  been 
Of  mortal  race,  devoid  of  all  ambition? 


214  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  FISHES  AND  THE  SHEPHERD  WHO   PLAYED 
THE  FLUTE. 

Thyrsis  — who  for  his  Annette  dear 

Made  music  with  his  flute  and  voice, 
Which  might  have  roused  the  dead  to  hear, 
.  And  in  their  silent  graves  rejoice  — 
Sang  once  the  livelong  day, 
In  the  flowery  month  of  May, 
Up  and  down  a  meadow  brook, 
While  Annette  fished  with  line  and  hook. 
But  ne'er  a  fish  would  bite ; 
So  the  shepherdess's  bait 
Drew  not  a  fish  to  its  fate, 
From  morning  dawn  till  night. 
The  shepherd,  who,  by  his  charming  songs, 
Had  drawn  savage  beasts  to  him  in  throngs, 
And  done  with  them  as  he  pleased  to, 
Thought  that  he  could  serve  the  fish  so. 
O  citizens,  he  sang,  of  this  water, 

Leave  your  Naiad  in  her  grot  profound ; 
Come  and  see  the  blue  sky's  lovely  daughter,  -v 
Who  a  thousand  times  more  will  charm  you : 
Fear  not  that  her  prison  will  harm  you, 
Though  there  you  should  chance  to  get  bound. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  215 

?Tis  only  to  us  men  she  is  cruel  V 
You  she  will  treat  kindly ; 
A  snug  little  pond  she'll  find  ye, 
Clearer  than  a  crystal  jewel, 
Where  you  may  all  live  and  do  well ; 
Or,  if  bv  chance  some  few 
Should  rind  tneir  late 
Concealed  in  the  bait, 
The  happier  still  are  you , 
For  envied  is  the  death  that's  met 
At  the  hands  of  sweet  Annette. 
This  eloquence  not  effecting 
The  object  of  his  wishes, 
Since  it  failed  in  collecting 
The  deaf  and  dumb  fishes,  — 
His  sweet  preaching  wasted, 
His  honeyed  talk  untasted, 
A  net  the  shepherd  seized,  and,  pouncing 

With  a  fell  scoop  at  the  scaly  fry, 
He  caught  them ;  and  now,  madly  flouncing, 
At  the  feet  of  his  Annette  they  lie ! 

O  ye  shepherds,  whose  sheep  men  are, 
To  trust  in  reason  never  dare. 
The  arts  of  eloquence  sublime 

Are  not  within  your  calling ; 
Your  fish  were  caught,  from  oldest  time, 

By  dint  of  nets  and  hauling. 


THE  TWO  PAHROTS    THE  KING,   AND  HIS  SON 

Two  parrots  lived,  a  sire  and  son, 
On  roa stings  from  a  royal  fire. 
Two  demigods,  a  son  and  sire, 
These  parrots  pensioned  for  their  fun. 
Time  tied  the  knot  of  love  sincere : 
The  sires  grew  to  each  other  dear ; 
The  sons,  in  spite  of  their  frivolity, 
Grew  comrades  boon,  in  joke  and  jollity  ; 
At  mess  they  mated,  hot  or  cool ; 
Were  fellow-scholars  at  a  school,  — 
Which  did  the  bird  no  little  honor,  since 
The  boy,  by  king  begotten,  was  a  prince. 
By  nature  fond  of  birds,  the  prince,  too,  petted 
A  sparrow,  which  delightfully  coquetted. 

These  rivals,  both  of  unripe  feather, 
One  day  were  frolicking  together : 
As  oft  befalls  such  little  folks, 
A  quarrel  followed  from  their  jokes. 
The  sparrow,  quite  uncircumspect, 
Was  by  the  parrot  sadly  pecked ; 
With  drooping  wing  and  bloody  head, 
His  master  picked  him  up  for  dead, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  217 

And,  being  quite  too  wroth  to  bear  it, 
In  heat  of  passion  killed  his  parrot. 

When  this  sad  piece  of  news  he  heard. 
Distracted  was  the  parent  bird. 
His  piercing  cries  bespoke  his  pain ; 
But  cries  and  tears  were  all  in  vain. 
The  talking  bird  had  left  the  shore ;  * 
In  short,  he,  talking  now  no  more, 
Caused  such  a  rage  to  seize  his  sire, 
That,  lighting  on  the  prince  in  ire, 

He  put  out  both  his  eyes, 
And  fled  for  safety,  as  was  wise. 
The  bird  a  pine  for  refuge  chose, 
And  to  its  lofty  summit  rose ; 
There,  in  the  bosom  of  the  skies. 
Enjoyed  his  vengeance  sweet, 
And  scorned  the  wrath  beneath  his  feet, 
Out  ran  the  king,  and  cried,  in  soothing  rone. 
Return,  dear  friend ;   what  serves  it  to  bemoan? 
Hate,  vengeance,  mourning,  let  us  both  onni. 
For  me,  it  is  no  more  than  fit 
To  own,  though  with  an  aching  heart, 
The  wrong  is  wholly  on  our  part. 
Th'  aggressor  truly  was  my  son  — 
My  son  ?  no ;  but  by  Fate  the  deed  was  done. 
Ere  birth  of  Time,  stern  Destiny 
Had  written  down  the  sad  decree, 
That  by  this  sad  calamity 
Your  child  should  cease  to  live,  and  mine  to  sec. 

*  "  Stygia  natabatjam  frigida  cymba."  —  Virg. 


218  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Let  both,  then,  cease  to  mourn  ; 
And  you,  back  to  your  cage  return. 

Sire  king,  replied  the  bird, 
Think  you  that,  after  such  a  deed, 
I  ought  to  trust  your  word  ? 
You  speak  of  Fate  ;   by  such  a  heathen  creed 
Hope  you  that  I  shall  be  enticed  to  bleed  ? 
But  whether  Fate  or  Providence  divine 

Gives  law  to  things  below, 
'Tis  writ  on  high,  that  on  this  waving  pine, 
Or  where  wild  forests  grow, 
My  days  I  finish,  safely,  far 
From  that  which  ought  your  love  to  mar, 
And  turn  it  all  to  hate. 
Revenge,  I  know,  's  a  kingly  morsel, 
And  ever  hath  been  part  and  parcel 
Of  this  your  godlike  state, 
fou  would  forget  the  cause  of  grief; 
Suppose  1  grant  you  my  belief, — 
?Tis  better  still  to  make  it  true, 
By  keeping  out  of  sight  of  you. 
Sire  king,  my  friend,  no  longer  wait 
For  friendship  to  be  healed ;...., 
'  But  absence  is  the  cure  of  hate, 
As  'tis  from  love  the  shield. 


THE  LIONESS  AND  THE  BEAR. 

The  lioness  had  lost  her  young ; 

A  hunter  stole  it  from  the  vale  ; 
The  forests  and  the  mountains  rung 

Responsive  to  her  hideous  wail. 
Nor  night,  nor  charms  df  sweet  repose, 
Could  still  the  loud  lament  that  rose 

From  that  grim  forest  queen. 
No  animal,  as  you  might  think, 
With  such  a  noise  could  sleep  a  wink. 
A  bear  presumed  to  intervene. 

One  word,  sweet  friend,  quoth  she, 
And  that  is  all,  from  me. 
The  young  that  through  your  teeth  have  passed, 
In  file  unbroken  by  a  fast, 

Had  they  nor  dam  nor  sire  ? 
They  had  them  both.     Then  1  desire, 
Since  all  their  deaths  caused  no  such  grievous  riot, 
While  mothers  died  of  grief  beneath  your  fiat, 
To  know  why  you  yourself  cannot  be  quiet  ? 
I  quiet?  —  I !  —  a  wretch  bereaved  ! 
My  only  son  !  —  such  anguish  be  relieved  ! 


220  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

No,  never !    All  for  me  below 
Is  but  a  life  of  tears  and  woe !  — 


But  say,  why  doom  yourself  to  sorrow  so  ? 

Alas  !   'tis  Destiny  that  is  my  foe. 

Such  language,  since  the  mortal  fall, 

Has  fallen  from  the  lips  of  all. 

Ye  human  wretches,  give  your  heed ; 

For  your  complaints  there's  little  need,  ->/ 
Let  him  who  thinks  his  own  the  hardest  case, 

Some  widowed,  childless  Hecuba  behold, 

Herself  to  toil  and  shame  of  slavery  sold, 
And  he  will  own  the  wealth  of  heavenly  grace. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  221 


THE  TWO   ADVENTURERS   AND  THE  TALISMAN. 

No  flowery  path  to  glory  leads. 
This  truth  no  better  voucher  needs 
Than  Hercules,  of  mighty  deeds. 
Few  demigods  the  tomes  of  fable 
Reveal  to  us  as  being  able 
Such  weight  of  task-work  to  endure : 
In  history,  1  find  still  fewer. 

One  such,  however,  here  behold  — 
A  knight  by  talisman  made  bold, 
Within  the  regions  of  romance, 
To  seek  adventures  with  the  lance. 
There  rode  a  comrade  at  his  side, 
And  as  they  rode  they  both  espied 
This  writiug  on  a  post :  — 
"Would'st  see,  sir  valiant  knight, 
A  thing  whereof  the  sight 
No  errant  yet  can  boast  ? 
Thou  hast  this  torrent  but  to  ford, 
And,  lifting  up  alone 
The  elephant  of  stone 
Upon  its  margin  shored, 
Upbear  it  to  the  mountain's  brow, 
Round  which,  aloft  before  thee  nr,w, 


222  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

The  misty  chaplets  wreath  - — 

Not  stopping  once  to  breathe." 

One  knight,  whose  nostrils  bled, 

Betokening  courage  fled, 
Cried  out,  What  if  that  current's  sweep 
Not  only  rapid  be,  but  deep ! 
And  grant  it  crossed,  —  pray,  why  encumber 
One's  arms  with  that  unwieldy  lumber, 

An  elephant  of  stone  ? 
Perhaps  the  artist  may  have  done 
His  work  in  such  a  way,  that  one 

Might  lug  it  twice  its  length ; 
But  then  to  reach  yon  mountain  top, 
And  that  without  a  breathing  stop, 

Were  surely  past  a  mortal's  strength  — 
Unless,  indeed,  it  be  no  bigger 
Than  some  wee,  pygmy,  dwarfish  figure, 
Which  one  would  head  a  cane  withal ;  — 
And  if  to  this  the  case  should  fall, 
The  adventure's  honor  would  be  small ! 
This  posting  seems  to  me  a  trap, 
Or  riddle  for  some  greenish  chap ; 

{  therefore  leave  the  whole  to  you. 
The  doubtful  reasoner  onward  hies. 
With  heart  resolved,  in  spite  of  eyes. 

The  other  boldly  dashes  through  ; 
Nor  depth  of  flood  nor  force 
Can  stop  his  onward  course. 
He  finds  the  elephant  of  stone ; 
He  lifts  it  all  alone  ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  223 

Without  a  breathing  stop, 
He  bears  it  to  the  top 
Of  that  steep  mount,  and  seeth  there 
A  high-walled  city,  great  and  fair. 
Out-cried  the  elephant  —  and  hushed 
But  forth  in  arms  the  people  rushed. 
A  knight  less  bold  had  surely  fled  ; 
But  he,  so  far  from  turning  back, 
His  course  right  onward  sped, 

Resolved  himself  to  make  attack, 
And  die  but  with  the  bravest  dead. 
Amazed  was  he  to  hear  that  band 
Proclaim  him  monarch  of  their  land, 
And  welcome  him,  in  place  of  one 
Whose  death  had  left  a  vacant  throne  '. 
In  sooth,  he  lent  a  gracious  ear, 
Meanwhile  expressing  modest  fear, 
Lest  such  a  load  of  royal  care 
Should  be  too  great  for  him  to  bear. 
And  so,  exactly,  Sixtus  said, 

When  first  the  pope's  tiara  pressed  his  head 
(Though,  is  it  such  a  grievous  thing 
To  be  a  pope,  or  be  a  king  ?) 

But  days  were  few  before  they  read  it 

That  with  but  little  truth  he  said  it. 

Blind  Fortune  follows  daring  blind. 

Oft  executes  the  wisest  man, 
Eie  yet  the  wisdom  of  his  mind 

Is  tasked  his  means  or  end  to  scan. 


THE  RABBITS. 


AN    ADDRESS    TO    THE    DUKE    DE    LA    ROCHEFOUCAULD. 


While  watching  man  in  all  his  phases, 
And  seeing  that,  in  many  cases, 

He  acts  just  like  the  brute  creation,  — 
I've  thought  the  lord  of  all  these  races 
Of  no  less  failings  showed  the  traces 

Than  do  his  lieges  in  relation ; 
And  that,  in  making  it,  Dame  Nature 
Hath  put  a  spice  in  every  creature 
From  off  the  self-same  spirit-stuff — 
Not  from  the  immaterial, 
But  what  we  call  ethereal, 

Refined  from  matter  rough. 
An  illustration  please  to  hear. 
Just  on  the  still  frontier 
Of  either  day  or  night,  — 
Or  when  the  lord  of  light 
Reclines  his  radiant  head 
Upon  his  watery  bed, 
Or  when  he  dons  the  gear, 
To  drive  a  new  career,  — 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  225 

While  jet  with  doubtful  sway 
The  hour  is  ruled  'twixt  night  and  day,  — 
Some  border  forest-tree  I  climb ; 
And,  acting  Jove,  from  height  sublime 

My  fatal  bolt  at  will  directing, 

I  kill  some  rabbit  unsuspecting. 
The  rest  that  frolicked  on  the  heath, 
Or  browsed  the  thyme  with  dainty  teeth, 

With  open  eye  and  wratchful  ear, 
Behold,  all  scampering  from  beneath, 

Instinct  with  mortal  fear. 
All,  frightened  simply  by  the  sound, 
Hie  to  their  city  under  ground. 
But  soon  the  danger  is  forgot, 
And  just  as  soon  the  fear  lives  not : 
The  rabbits,  gayer  than  before, 
1  see  beneath  my  hand  once  more  ! 

Are  not  mankind  well  pictured  here  ? 
By  storms  asunder  driven, 
They  scarcely  reach  their  haven. 
And  cast  their  anchor,  ere 
They  tempt  the  same  dread  shocks 
Of  tempests,  waves,  and  rocks. 
True  rabbits,  back  they  frisk 
To  meet  the  self-same  risk ! 

I  add  another  common  case. 

When  dogs  pass  through  a  place 


226  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Beyond  their  customary  bounds, 
And  meet  with  others,  curs  or  hounds, 
Imagine  what  a  holiday ! 
The  native  dogs,  whose  interests  centre 
In  one  great  organ  termed  the  venter, 

The  strangers  rush  at,  bite,  and  bay ; 
With  cynic  pertness  tease  and  worry, 
And  chase  them  off  their  territory. 
So,  too,  do  men.     Wealth,  grandeur,  glory, 
To  men  of  office  or  profession, 
Of  every  sort,  in  every  nation, 
As  tempting  are,  and  sweet, 
As  is  to  dogs  the  refuse  meat. 
With  us,  it  is  a  general  fact, 
One  sees  the  latest-come  attacked, 

And  plundered  to  the  skin. 
Coquettes  and  authors  we  may  view, 

As  samples  of  the  sin ; 
For  woe  to  belle  or  writer  new  ! 
The  fewer  eaters  round  the  cake, 
The  fewer  players  for  the  stake, 
The  surer  each  one's  self  to  take. 
A  hundred  facts  my  truth  might  test ; 
But  shortest  works  are  always  best. 
In  this  I  but  pursue  the  chart 
Laid  down  by  masters  of  the  art ; 
And,  on  the  best  of  themes,  I  hold, 
The  truth  should  never  all  be  told. 
Hence,  here  my  sermon  ought  to  close. 
O  thou,  to  whom  my  fable  owes 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  227 

Whate'er  it  has  of  solid  worth,  — ■ 

Who,  great  by  modesty  as  well  as  birth, 

Hast  ever  counted  praise  a  pain,  — 

Whose  leave  I  could  so  ill  obtain 

That  here  your  name,  receiving  homage, 

Should  save  from  every  sort  of  damage 

My  slender  works  —  which  name,  well  known 
To  nations,  and  to  ancient  Time, 

All  France  delights  to  own, 
Herself  more  rich  in  names  sublime 
Than  any  other  earthly  clime  ;  — 
Permit  me  here  the  world  to  teach 

That  you  have  given  my  simple  lhyme 
The  text  from  which  it  dares  to  preach. 


228  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  MERCHANT,  THE  NOBLE,  THE  SHEPHERD    AND 
THE  KING'S   SON. 

Fouk  voyagers  to  parts  unknown, 
On  shore,  not  far  from  naked,  thrown 
By  furious  waves,  —  a  merchant  now  undone, 
A  noble,  shepherd,  and  a  monarch's  son,  — 
Brought  to  the  lot  of  Belisarius,* 
Their  wants  supplied  on  alms  precarious. 
To  tell  what  fates,  and  winds,  and  weather, 
Had  brought  these  mortals  all  together, 
Though  from  far  distant  points  abscinded, 
Would  make  my  tale  long-winded. 
Suffice  to  say,  that,  by  a  fountain  met 

In  council  grave,  these  outcasts  held  debate. 
The  prince  enlarged,  in  an  oration  set, 
Upon  the  miseries  that  befall  the  great. "i 

*  Belisarius  was  a  great  general,  who,  having  commanded  the  armies 
of  the  emperor,  and  lost  the  favor  of  his  master,  fell  to  such  a  point  of 
destitution  that  he  asked  alms  upon  the  highways.  —  Note  of  La 
Fontaine. 

The  touching  story  of  the  fall  of  Belisarius,  of  which  painters  and 
poets  have  made  so  much,  is  entirely  false,  as  may  be  seen  by  consult- 
ing Gibbon's  ''•  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,"  chap,  xliii. 

En, 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  229 

The  shepherd  deemed  it  best  to  cast 
Off  thought  of  all  misfortune  past, 
And  each  to  do  the  best  he  could, 
In  efforts  for  the  common  weal. 
Did  ever  a  repining  mood, 

He  added,  a  misfortune  heal  ? 
Toil,  friends,  will  take  us  back  to  Rome, 
Or  make  us  here  as  good  a  home. 
A  shepherd  so  to  speak  !  a  shepherd  ?    What ! 
As  though  crowned  heads  were  not, 
By  Heaven's  appointment  fit, 
The  sole  receptacles  of  wit ! 
As  though  a  shepherd  could  be  deeper, 
In  thought  or  knowledge,  than  his  sheep  are ! 
The  three,  howe'er,  at  once  approved  his  plan, 
Wrecked  as  they  were  on  shores  American.  — >v^-- 
I'll  teach  arithmetic,  the  merchant  said,  — 
Its  rules,  of  course,  well  seated  in  his  head,  — 
For  monthly  pay.     The  prince  replied,  And  1 
Will  teach  political  economy. 
And  I,  the  noble  said,  in  heraldry 
Well  versed,  will  open  for  that  branch  a  school  — 
As  if,  beyond  a  thousand  leagues  of  sea, 
That  senseless  jargon  could  befool! 
My  friends,  you  talk  like  men, 
The  shepherd  cried,  but  then 
The  month  has  thirty  days ;  till  they  are  spent, 
Are  we  upon  your  faith  to  keep  full  Lent  ? 
The  hope  you  give  is  truly  good ; 
But,  ere  it  comes,  we  starve  for  food ! 


230 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


^ray  tell  me,  if  you  can  divine, 
On  what,  to-morrow,  we  shall  dine ; 
Or  tell  me,  rather,  whence  we  may 
Obtain  a  supper  for  to-day. 
This  point,  if  truth  should  be  confessed, 
Is  first,  and  vital  to  the  rest. 
Your  science  short  in  this  respect, 
My  hands  shall  cover  the  defect.  — 
This  said,  the  nearest  woods  he  sought 
And  thence  for  market  fagots  brought, 
Whose  price  that  day,  and  eke  the  next, 
Relieved  the  company  perplexed  — 
Forbidding  that,  by  fasting,  they  should  go 
To  use  their  talents  in  the  world  below. 

We  learn,  from  this  adventure's  course, 
There  needs  but  little  skill  to  get  a  living. 
Thanks  to  the  gifts  of  Nature's  giving, 

Our  hands  are  much  the  readiest  resource. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  231 

THE   COUNTRYMAN   AND  THE  SERPENT. 

A  countryman,  as  iEsop  certifies, 
A  charitable  man,  but  not  so  wise, 
One  day  in  winter  found, 
Stretched  on  the  snowy  ground, 
A  chilled  or  frozen  snake, 
As  torpid  as  a  stake, 
And,  if  alive,  devoid  of  sense. 
He  took  him  up,  and  bore  him  home, 

And,  thinking  not  what  recompense 
For  such  a  charity  would  come, 
Before  the  fire  he  stretched  him, 
And  back  to  being  fetched  him. 
The  snake  scarce  felt  the  genial  heat 
Before  his  heart  with  native  malice  beat. 
He  raised  his  head,  thrust  out  his  forked  tongue, 
Coiled  up,  and  at  his  benefactor  sprung. 
Ungrateful  wretch !  said  he,  is  this  the  way 

My  care  and  kindness  you  repay  ? 
Now  you  shall  die.     With  that  his  axe  he  takes. 
And  with  two  blows  three  serpents  makes. 
Trunk,  head,  and  tail  were  separate  snakes ; 
And,  leaping  up  with  all  their  might, 
They  vainly  sought  to  reunite. 

'Tis  good  and  lovely  to  be  kind ; 
But  charity  should  not  be  blind ; 
For  as  to  wretchedness  ingrate, 
You  cannot  raise  it  from  its  wretched  state. 


THE   SICK  LION  AND  THE  FOX. 

Sick  in  his  den,  we  understand, 
The  king  of  beasts  sent  out  command 
That  of  his  vassals  every  sort 
Should  send  some  deputies  to  court  — 
With  promise  well  to  treat 
Each  deputy  and  suite ; 
On  faith  of  lion,  duly  written, 
None  should  be  scratched,  much  less  be  bitten. 
The  royal  will  was  executed, 
And  some  from  every  tribe  deputed  ; 
The  foxes,  only,  would  not  come. 
One  thus  explained  their  choice  of  home  :  — 
Of  those  who  seek  the  court,  we  learn, 

The  tracks  upon  the  sand 

Have  one  direction,  and 
Not  one  betokens  a  return. 
This  fact  begetting  some  distrust, 
His  majesty  at  present  must 
Excuse  us  from  his  great  levee. 

His  plighted  word  is  good,  no  doubt ; 
But  while  how  beasts  get  in  we  see, 

We  do  not  see  how  they  get  out. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  233 


THE  FOWLER,  THE  HAWK,  AND  THE  LARK. 

From  wrongs  of  wicked  men  we  draw 

Excuses  for  our  own  :  — 
Such  is  the  universal  law. 

Would  you  have  mercy  shown, 

Let  yours  be  clearly  known. 

A  fowler's  minor  served  to  snare 
The  little  tenants  of  the  air. 
A  lark  there  saw  her  pretty  face, 
And  was  approaching  to  the  place. 

A  hawk,  that  sailed  on  high 

Like  vapor  in  the  sky, 
Came  down,  as  still  as  infant's  breath, 
On  her  who  sang  so  near  her  death. 
She  thus  escaped  the  fowler's  steel, 
The  hawk's  malignant  claws  to  feel. 

While  in  his  cruel  way, 

The  pirate  plucked  his  prey, 
Upon  himself  the  net  was  sprung. 
O  fowler,  prayed  he  in  the  hawkish  tongue, 

Release  me  in  thy  clemency ! 

I  never  did  a  wrong  to  thee. 

The  man  replied,  'Tis  true ; 

And  did  the  lark  to  you  ? 


THE   MOGUL'S   DREAM. 

Long  since,  a  Mogul  saw,  in  dream, 

A  vizier  in  Elysian  bliss ; 
No  higher  joy  could  be  or  seem, 

Or  purer,  than  was  ever  his. 
Elsewhere  was  dreamed  of  by  the  same 
A  wretched  hermit  wrapped  in  flame, 
Whose  lot  e'en  touched,  so  pained  was  he, 
The  partners  of  his  misery. 
Was  Minos  mocked  ?  or  had  these  ghosts, 
By  some  mistake,  exchanged  their  posts  ? 
Surprise  at  this  the  vision  broke ; 
The  dreamer  suddenly  awoke. 

Some  mystery  suspecting  in  it, 

He  got  a  wise  one  to  explain  it. 
Replied  the  sage  interpreter, 
Let  not  the  thing  a  marvel  seem  : 
There  is  a  meaning  in  your  dream : 

If  J  have  aught  of  knowledge,  sir, 
It  covers  counsel  from  the  gods. 
While  tenanting  these  clay  abodes, 
This  vizier  sometimes  gladly  sought 
The  solitude  that  favors  thought ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  235 

Whereas,  the  hermit,  in  his  cot, 
Had  longings  for  a  vizier's  lot. 
To  this  interpretation  dared  I  add, 

The  love  of  solitude  I  would  inspire. 
It  satisfies  the  heart's  desire 
With  unencumbered  gifts  and  glad  — 
Heaven-planted  joys,  of  stingless  sweet, 
Aye  springing  up  beneath  our  feet. 

0  Solitude,  whose  secret  charms  I  know  -  ■ 
Retreats  that  I  have  loved  —  when  shall  1  go 
To  taste,  far  from  a  world  of  din  and  noise, 
Your  shades  so  fresh,  where  silence  has  a  voice? 
When  shall  their  soothing  gloom  my  refuge  be  ? 

When  shall  the  sacred  Nine,  from  courts  afar, 

And  cities  with  all  solitude  at  war, 
Engross  entire,  and  teach  their  votary 
The  stealthy  movements  of  the  spangled  nights, 
The  names  and -virtues  of  those  errant  lights 
Which  rule  o'er  human  character  and  fate  ? 
Or,  if  not  born  to  purposes  so  great, 
The  streams,  at  least,  shall  win  my  heartfelt  thanks, 
While,  in  my  verse,  I  paint  their  flowery  banks. 
Fate  shall  not  weave  my  life  with  golden  thread, 
Nor  'neath  rich  fret-work,  on  a  purple  bed, 
Shall  I  repose,  full  late,  my  care-worn  head. 

But  will  my  sleep  be  less  a  treasure  ? 

Less  deep,  thereby,  and  full  of  pleasure  ? 

1  vow  it,  sweet  and  gentle  as  the  dew, 
Within  those  deserts  sacrifices  new ; 

And  when  the  time  shall  come  to  yield  my  breath, 
Without  remorse  I'll  join  the  ranks  of  Death 


THE  LION,  THE  MONKEY,  AND  THE  TWO   ASSES 

The  lion,  for  his  kingdom's  sake, 
In  morals  would  some  lessons  take, 
And  therefore  called,  one  summer's  day, 
The  monkey,  master  of  the  arts, 
An  animal  of  brilliant  parts, 

To  hear  what  he  could  say. 
Great  king,  the  monkey  thus  began, 
To  reign  upon  the  wisest  plan 
Requires  a  prince  to  set  his  #eal, 
And  passion  for  the  public  weal, 
Distinctly  and  quite  high  above 
A  certain  feeling  called  self-love,"" 

The  parent  of  all  vices, 

In  creatures  of  all  sizes. 
To  will  this  feeling  from  one's  breast  away, 
Is  not  the  easy  labor  of  a  day ; 
'Tis  much  to  moderate  its  tyrant  sway. 
By  that  your  majesty  august 
Will  execute  your  royal  trust 
From  folly  free  and  aught  unjust. 

Give  me,  replied  the  king, 

Example  of  each  thing. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  237 

Each  species,  said  the  sage,  — 
And  I  begin  with  ours,  — = 

Exalts  its  own  peculiar  powers  * 
Above  sound  reason's  gauge. 
Meanwhile,  all  other  kinds  and  tribes 
As  fools  and  blockheads  it  describes, 

With  other  compliments  as  cheap. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  same 

Self-love  inspires  a  beast  to  heap 
The  highest  pyramid  of  fame 
For  every  one  that  bears  his  name ; 
Because  he  justly  deems  such  praise 
The  easiest  way  himself  to  raise. 
'Tis  my  conclusion  in  the  case, 

That  many  a  talent  here  below 
Is  but  cabal,  or"  sheer  grimace, — 

The  art  of  seeming  things  to  know  — 
An  art  in  which  perfection  lies 
More  with  the  ignorant  than  wise. 

Two  asses  tracking,  t'other  day, 
Of  which  each  in  his  turn 
Did  incense  to  the  other  burn, 
Quite  in  the  usual  way,  — 
I  heard  one  to  his  comrade  say, 
My  lord,  do  you  not  find 
The  prince  of  knaves  and  fools 
To  be  this  man,  who  boasts  of  mind 
Instructed  in  his  schools  ? 


238  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

With  wit  unseemly  and  profane, 

He  mocks  our  venerable  race  — 
Oir  each  of  his  who  lacketh  brain 
Bestows  our  ancient  surname,  ass  ! 
And,  with  abusive  tongue  portraying, 
Describes  our  laugh  and  talk  as  braying ! 
These  bipeds  of  their  folly  tell  us, 
While  thus  pretending  to  excel  us. 
No,  'tis  for  you  to  speak,  my  friend, 
And  let  their  orators  attend. 
The  braying  is  their  own,  but  let  them  be : 
We  understand  each  other,  and  agree, 
And  that's  enough.     As  for  your  song, 
Such  wonders  to  its  notes  belong, 
The  nightingale  is  put  to  shame, 
And  Lambert  loses  half  his  fame. 
My  lord,  the  other  ass  replied, 
Such  talents  in  yourself  reside, 
Of  asses  all,  the  joy  and  pride. 
These  donkies,  not  quite  satisfied 
With  scratching  thus  each  other's  hide, 
Must  needs  the  cities  visit, 
Their  fortunes  there  to  raise, 
By  sounding  forth  the  praise, 
Each,  of  the  other's  skill  exquisite. 
Full  many,  in  this  age  of  ours,  — 
Not  only  among  asses, 
But  in  the  higher  classes, 
Whom  Heaven  hath  clothed  with  higher  powers,- 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


239 


Dared  they  but  do  it,  would  exalt 
A  simple  innocence  from  fault, 
Or  virtue  common  and  domestic, 
To  excellence  majestic. 
I  Ve  said  too  much,  perhaps ;  but  I  suppose 
Your  majesty  the  secret  won't  disclose, 
Since  'twas  your  majesty's  request  that  I 

This  matter  should  exemplify. 
How  love  of  self  gives  food  to  ridicule, 
J've  shown.     To  prove  the  balance  of  my  rule, 
That  justice  is  a  sufferer  thereby, 
A  longer  time  will  take.  — 
'Twas  thus  the  monkey  spake. 
But  my  informant  does  not  state, 
That  e'er  the  sage  did  demonstrate 
The  other  point,  more  delicate. 
Perhaps  he  thought  none  but  a  fool 
A  lion  would  too  strictly  school. 


THE   WOLF   AND   THE  FOX. 


Why  iEsop  gave  the  palm  of  cunning, 
O'er  flying  animals  and  running, 
To  Renard  Fox,  I  cannot  tell, 
Though  1  have  searched  the  subject  well. 
Hath  not  Sir  Wolf  an  equal  skill 
In  tricks  and  artifices  shown, 
When  he  would  do  some  life  an  ill, 
Or  from  his  foes  defend  his  own  ? 
I  think  he  hath;  and,  void  of  disrespect, 
I  might,  perhaps,  my  master  contradict : 
V"et  here's  a  case  in  which  the  burrow-lodger 
Was  palpably,  I  own,  the  brightest  dodger. 
One  night  he  spied  within  a  well, 
Wherein  the  fullest  moonlight  fell, 

What  seemed  to  him  an  ample  cheese. 
Two  balanced  buckets  took  their  turns 
When  drawers  thence  would  fill  their  urns. 

Our  fox  went  down  in  one  of  these, 
By  hunger  greatly  pressed  to  sup, 
And  drew  the  other  empty  up. 


THE    WOLF    AND    THE    FOX. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  241 

Convinced  at  once  of  his  mistake, 
And  anxious  for  his  safety's  sake, 
He  saw  his  death  was  near  and  sure, 

Unless  some  other  wretch  in  need 
The  same  moon's  image  should  allure 

To  take  a  bucket  and  succeed 

To  his  predicament,  indeed. 
Two  days  passed  by,  and  none  approached  the  well ; 
Un halting  Time,  as  is  his  wont, 
Was  scooping  from  the  moon's  full  front, 
And,  as  he  scooped,  Sir  Renard's  courage  fell. 
His  crony  wolf,  of  clamorous  maw, 
Poor  fox  at  last  above  him  saw, 
And  cried,  My  comrade,  look  you  here ! 
See  what  abundance  of  good  cheer  ! 
A  cheese  of  most  delicious  zest ! 
Which  Faunus  must  himself  have  pressed, 
Of  milk  by  heifer  Io  given. 
If  Jupiter  were  sick  in  heaven, 
The  taste  would  bring  his  appetite. 
I've  taken,  as  you  see,  a  bite ; 
But  still  for  both  there  is  a  plenty. 
Pray  take  the  bucket  that  I've  sent  ye  , 
Come  down,  and  get  your  share. 
Although,  to  make  the  story  fair, 
The  fox  had  used  his  utmost  care, 
The  wolf  (a  fool  to  give  him  credit) 
Went  down  because  his  stomach  bid  it  — 

And  by  his  weight  pulled  up 
Sir  Renard  to  the  top. 


242  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

We  need  not  mock  this  simpleton, 
For  we  ourselves  such  deeds  have  done. 
Our  faith  is  prone  to  lend  its  ear 
To  aught  which  we  desire  or  fear. 


THE   PEASANT   OF  THE  DANUBE. 

To  judge  no  man  by  outside  view, 
Is  good  advice,  though  not  quite  new. 
Some  time  ago,  a  mouse's  fright 
Upon  this  moral  shed  some  light. 

I  have  for  proof  at  present, 
With  iEsop  and  good  Socrates, 
Of  Danube's  banks  a  certain  peasant, 
Whose  portrait,  drawn  to  life,  one  sees, 
By  Marc  Aurelius,  if  you  please. 
The  first  are  well  known,  far  and  near; 
I  briefly  sketch  the  other  here. 
The  crop  upon  his  fertile  chin 
Was  any  thing  but  soft  or  thin  ; 
Indeed,  his  person,  clothed  in  hair, 
Might  personate  an  unlicked  bear. 
Beneath  his  matted  brow  there  lay 
An  eye  that  squinted  every  way ; 
A  crooked  nose  and  monstrous  lips  he  bore, 
And  goat-skin  round  his  trunk  he  w*ore, 
With  bulrush  belt.    And  such  a  man  as  this  is 
Was  delegate  from  towns  the  Danube  kisses, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  243 

When  not  a  nook  on  earth  there  lingered 
By  Roman  avarice  not  fingered. 

Before  the  senate  thus  he  spoke  :  — 
Romans  and  senators  who  hear, 

I,  first  of  all,  the  gods  invoke, 

The  powers  whom  mortals  justly  fear, 

That  from  my  tongue  there  may  not  fall 

A  word  which  I  may  need  recall. 

Without  their  aid,  there  enters  nought 
To  human  hearts  of  good  or  just : 

Whoever  leaves  the  same  unsought, 
Is  prone  to  violate  his  trust ; 

The  prey  of  Roman  avarice, 

Ourselves  are  witnesses  of  this. 

Rome,  by  our  crimes,  our  scourge  has  grown, 

More  than  by  valor  of  her  own. 

Romans,  beware  lest  Heaven,  some  day, 

Exact  for  all  our  groans  the  pay, 

And,  arming  us,  by  just  reverse, 

To  do  its  vengeance,  stern,  but  meet, 

Shall  pour  on  you  the  vassals'  curse, 
And  place  your  necks  beneath  our  feet ! 
And  wherefore  not  ?    For,  are  you  better 

Than  hundreds  of  the  tribes  diverse 
Who  clank  the  galling  Roman  fetter  ? 

What  right  gives  you  the  universe  ? 

Why  come  and  mar  our  quiet  life  ? 

We  tilled  our  acres  free  from  strife ; 

In  arts  our  hands  were  skilled  to  toil, 

As  well  as  o'er  the  generous  soil. 


244  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

What  nave  you  taught  the  Germans  brave  ? 

Apt  scholars,  had  but  they 

Your  appetite  for  sway, 
They  might,  instead  of  you,  enslave, 

Without  your  inhumanity. 
That  which  your  praetors  perpetrate 
On  us,  as  subjects  of  your  state, 
My  powers  would  fail  me  to  relate. 
Profaned  their  altars  and  their  rites, 
The  pity  of  your  gods  our  lot  excites. 
Thanks  to  your  representatives, 
In  you  they  see  but  shameless  thieves, 
Who  plunder  gods  as  well  as  men, 
By  sateless  avarice  insane. 
The  men  that  rule  our  land  from  this 
Are  like  the  bottomless  abyss. 
To  satisfy  their  lust  of  gain, 
Both  man  and  nature  toil  in  vain. 
Recall  them ;  for  indeed  we  will 
Our  fields  for  such  no  longer  till. 
From  all  our  towns  and  plains  we  fly 
For  refuge  to  our  mountains  high. 
We  quit  our  homes  and  tender  wives, 
To  lead  with  savage  beasts  our  lives  — 
No  more  to  welcome  into  day 
A  progeny  for  Rome  a  prey. 
And  as  to  those  already  born  — 

Poor,  helpless  babes  forlorn  !  — 
We  wish  them  short  career  in  time. 
Your  praetors  force  us  to  the  crime. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  245 

Are  they  our  teachers  ?     Call  them  home,  — 

They  teach  but  luxury  and  vice,  — 
Lest  Germans  should  their  likes  become, 

In  fell,  remorseless  avarice. 
Have  we  a  remedy  at  Rome  ? 

I'll  tell  you  here  how  matters  go. 

Hath  one  no  present  to  bestow, 

No  purple  for  a  judge  or  so, 
The  laws  for  him  are  deaf  and  dumb ; 

Their  minister  has  aye  in  store 

A  thousand  hindrances  or  more. 

I'm  sensible  that  truths  like  these 
Are  not  the  things  to  please. 
I've  done.     Let  death  avenge  you  here 
Of  my  complaint,  a  little  too  sincere. 

He  said  no  more  ;  but  all  admired 

The  thought  with  which  his  speech  was  fired ; 

The  eloquence  and  heart  of  oak 

With  which  the  prostrate  savage  spoke. 
Indeed,  so  much  were  all  delighted, 
As  due  revenge,  the  man  was  knighted. 

The  praetors  were  at  once  displaced, 

And  better  men  the  office  graced. 

The  senate,  also,  by  decree, 
Besought  a  copy  of  the  speech, 

Which  might  to  future  speakers  be 
A  model  for  the  use  of  each. 

Not  long,  howe'er,  had  Rome  the  sense 

To  entertain-  such  eloquence. 


246  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


'Tis  thus,  by  crystal  fount,  my  muse  hath  sung, 
Translating  into  heavenly  tongue 
Whatever  came  within  my  reach, 

From  hosts  of  beings  borrowing  nature's  speech. 
Interpreter  of  tribes  diverse, 

I've  made  them  actors  on  my  motley  stage ; 
For  in  this  boundless  universe 

There's  none  but  talketh,  simpleton  or  sage. 

More  eloquent  at  home  than  in  my  verse, 

If  some  should  find  themselves  by  me  the  worse, 

And  this  my  work  prove  not  a  model  true, 
To  that  which  I  at  least  rough-hew 

Succeeding  hands  will  give  the  finish  due. 
Ye  pets  of  those  sweet  sisters  nine, 
Complete  the  task  that  I  resign  ; 
The  lessons  give,  which  doubtless  I've  omitted, 
With  wings  by  these  inventions  nicely  fitted. 

But  you're  already  more  than  occupied ; 

For  while  my  muse  her  harmless  work  hath  plied, 
All  Europe  to  our  sovereign  yields, 
And  learns,  upon  her  battle-fields, 
To  bow  before  the  noblest  plan 
That  ever  monarch  formed,  or  man. 
Thence  draw  those  sisters  themes  sublime, 
With  power  to  conquer  Fate  and  Time. 


Stofe 


H*J1I3&I3    H*II18S^* 


THE  TWO  RATS,  THE  FOX,  AND  THE  EGG. 


ADDRESS    TO    MADAM    DE    LA    SABLIERE. 


ou,  Iris,  'twere  an  easy  task  to  praise  ; 
But  you  refuse  the  incense  of  my  lays. 
In  this  you  are  unlike  all  other  mortals, 
Who  welcome  all  the  praise  that  seeks  their  portals; 
Not  one  who  is  not  soothed  by  sound  so  sweet. 
For  me  to  blame  this  humor  were  not  meet, 
By  gods  and  mortals  shared  in  common, 
And,  in  the  main,  by  lovely  woman. 


248  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

That  drink,  so  vaunted  by  the  rhyming  trade, 
That  cheers  the  god  who  deals  the  thunder-blow, 
And  oft  intoxicates  the  gods  below,  — 
The  nectar,  Iris,  —  is  of  praises  made. 
You  taste  it  not.     But,  in  its  place, 
Wit,  science,  even  trifles,  grace 
Your  bill  of  fare  ;  but,  for  that  matter, 
The  world  will  not  believe  the  latter. 

Well,  leave  the  world  in  unbelief. 

Still,  science,  trifles,  fancies  light  as  air, 

I  hold,  should  mingle  in  a  bill  of  fare, 

Each  giving  each  its  due  relief; 

As,  where  the  gifts  of  Flora  fall, 

On  different  flowers  we  see 

Alight  the  busy  bee, 
Educing  sweet  from  all. 
Thus  much  premised,  don't  think  it  strange, 
Or  aught  beyond  my  muse's  range, 
If  e'en  my  fables  should  infold, 
Among  their  nameless  trumpery, 
The  traits  of  a  philosophy 
Far-famed  as  subtile,  charming,  bold. 
They  call  it  new  —  the  men  of  wit  ; 
Perhaps  you  have  not  heard  of  it.* 
My  verse  will  tell  you  what  it  means : — 
They  say  that  beasts  are  mere  machines ; 

*  Madam  de  la  Sabliere  was  one  of  the  most  learned  women  of  the 
age  in  which  she  lived,  and  knew  more  of  the  philosophy  of  Descartes, 
in  which  she  was  a  believer,  than  our  poet;  but  she  dreaded  the  repu- 
tation of  a  "  Blue-stocking,'  and  for  this  reason  La  Fontaine  addresses 
lier  as  if  she  might  be  ignorant  of  the  Cartesian  theory. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  249 

That,  in  their  doings,  every  thing 
Is  done  by  virtue  of  a  spring  — 
No  sense,  nor  soul,  nor  notion, 
But  matter  merely  —  set  in  motion  ;  — 
Just  such  the  watch  in  kind, 
Which  joggeth  on,  to  purpose  blind. 
Now  ope,  and  read  within  its  breast  — 
The  place  of  soul  is  by  its  wheels  possessed. 
One  moves  a  second,  that  a  third, 
Till  finally  its  sound  is  heard. 
And  now  the  beast,  our  sages  say, 
Is  moved  precisely  in  this  way. 
An  object  strikes  it  in  a  certain  place : 
The  spot  thus  struck,  without  a  moment's  space, 
To  neighboring  parts  the  news  conveys : 
Thus  sense  receives  it  through  the  chain, 
And  takes  impression.  —  How  ?    Explain.  — 
Not  I.     They  say,  by  sheer  necessity, 
From  will  as  well  as  passion  free, 
The  animal  is  found  the  thrall 
Of  movements  which  the  vulgar  call 
Joy,  sadness,  pleasure,  pain,  and  love  — 
The  cause  extrinsic  and  above.  — 
Believe  it  not.     What's  this  I  hold  ? 
Why,  sooth,  it  is  a  watch  of  gold  — 
Its  life,  the  mere  unbending  of  a  spring. 
And  we  ?  —  are  quite  a  different  thing. 
Hear  how  Descartes — Descartes,  whom  all  applaud, 
Whom  pagans  would  have  made  a  god, 
Who  holds,  in  fact,  the  middle  place 
'Twixt  ours  and  the  celestial  race, 


250  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

About  as  does  the  plodding  ass 
From  man  to  oyster  as  you  pass  — 
Hear  how  this  author  states  the  case : 
Of  all  the  tribes  to  being  brought 
By  our  Creator  out  of  nought, 
I  only  have  the  gift  of  thought. 
Now,  Iris,  you  will  recollect 
We  were  by  older  science  taught 
That  when  brutes  think,  they  don't  reflect, 
Descartes  proceeds  beyond  the  wall, 
And  says  they  do  not  think  at  all. 

This  you  believe  with  ease ; 
And  so  could  I,  if  I  should  please. 
Still,  in  the  forest,  when,  from  morn 
Till  midday,  sounds  of  dog  and  horn 
Have  terrified  the  stag  forlorn ;  — 
When  he  has  doubled  forth  and  back, 
And  labored  to  confound  his  track, 
Till  tired  and  spent  with  efforts  vain  — 
An  ancient  stag,  of  antlers  ten ;  — 
He  puts  a  younger  in  his  place, 
All  fresh,  to  weary  out  the  chase.  — 
What  thoughts  for  one  that  merely  grazes 
The  doublings,  turnings,  windings,  mazes, 
The  substituting  fresher  bait, 
Were  worthy  of  a  man  of  state  — 
And  worthy  of  a  better  fate  ! 
To  yield  to  rascal  dogs  his  breath 
Is  all  the  honor  of  his  death. 
And  when  the  partridge  danger  spies, 
Before  her  brood  have  strength  to  rise, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  251 

She  wisely  counterfeits  a  wound, 
And  drags  her  wing  upon  the  ground  — 
Thus,  from  her  home,  beside  some  ancient  log, 
Safe  drawing  off  the  sportsman  and  his  dog ; 
And  while  the  latter  seems  to  seize  her, 

The  victim  of  an  easy  chase  — 

Your  teeth  are  not  for  such  as  me,  sir, 

She  cries, 

And  flies, 

And  laughs  the  former  in  his  face. 

Far  north,  'tis  said,  the  people  live 
In  customs  nearly  primitive ; 
That  is  to  say,  are  bound 
In  ignorance  profound  :  — 
I  mean  the  people  human  ; 
For  animals  are  dwelling  there 
With  skill  such  buildings  to  prepare 

As  could  on  earth  but  few  men. 
Firm  laid  across  the  torrent's  course, 
Their  work  withstands  its  mighty  force, 
So  damming  it  from  shore  to  shore, 

That,  gliding  smoothly  o'er, 
In  even  sheets  the  waters  pour. 
Their  work,  as  it  proceeds,  they  grade  and  bevel, 
Or  bring  it  up  to  plumb  and  level ; 
First  lay  their  logs,  and  then  with  mortar  smear, 
As  if  directed  by  an  engineer. 
Each  labors  for  the  public  good ; 
The  old  command,  the  youthful  brood 
Cut  down,  and  shape,  and  place  the  wood. 


252  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Compared  with  theirs,  e'en  Plato's  model  state 
Were  but  the  work  of  some  apprentice  pate. 
Such  are  the  beaver  folks,  who  know 
Enough  to  house  themselves  from  snow, 
And  bridge,  though  they  can  swim,  the  pools. 
Meanwhile,  our  kinsmen  are  such  fools, 
In  spite  of  their  example, 
They  dwell  in  huts  less  ample, 
And  cross  the  streams  by  swimming, 
However  cold  and  brimming ! 
Now,  that  the  skilful  beaver 
Is  but  a  body  void  of  spirit, 
From  whomsoever  I  might  hear  it, 
I  would  believe  it  never. 

But  I  go  further  in  the  case. 
Pray  listen  while  I  tell 
A  thing  which  lately  fell 
From  one  of  truly  royal  race.* 
A  prince  beloved  by  Victory, 
Tne  north's  defender,  here  shall  be 
My  voucner  and  your  guaranty ; 
Whose  mighty  name  alone 
Commands  the  sultan's  throne, 
The  King  whom  Poland  calls  her  own. 
This  king  declares  (kings  cannot  lie,  we  hear) 
That,  on  his  own  frontier, 
Some  animals  there  are 
Engaged  in  ceaseless  war ; 

*  John  Sobicflki. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  253 

From  age  to  age  the  quarrel  runs. 
Transmitted  down  from  sires  to  sons; 
(These  beasts,  he  says,  are  to  the  fox  akin  ;) 
And  with  more  skill  no  war  hath  been, 
By  highest  military  powers, 
Conducted  in  this  age  of  ours. 
Guards,  piquets,  scouts,  and  spies, 
And  ambuscade  that  hidden  lies, 
The  foe  to  capture  by  surprise, 
And  many  a  shrewd  appliance 
Of  that  pernicious,  cursed  science, 
The  daughter  of  the  Stygian  wave, 
And  mother  harsh  of  heroes  brave, 
Those  military  creatures  have. 
To  chant  their  feats  a  bard  we  lack, 
Till  Death  shall  give  us  Homer  back. 

And  should  he  such  a  wonder  do, 
And,  while  his  hand  was  in,  release 
Old  Epicurus'  rival*  too, 
What  would  the  latter  say  to  facts  like  these  ? 
Why,  as  I've  said,  that  nature  does  such  things 
In  animals  by  means  of  springs  ; 
That  Memory  is  but  corporeal ; 

And  that  to  do  the  things  arrayed 
So  proudly  in  my  story  all, 
The  animal  but  needs  her  aid. 
At  each  return,  the  object,  so  to  speak, 
Proceeds  directly  to  her  store 

*   Descartes. 


254  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

With  keenest  optics  —  there  to  seek 

The  image  it  had  traced  before, 
Which,  found,  proceeds  forthwith  to  act 
Just  as  at  first  it  did,  in  fact, 
By  neither  thought  nor  reason  backed. 
Not  so  with  us,  beasts  perpendicular ; 
With  us  kind  Heaven  is  more  particular. 
Self-ruled  by  independent  mind, 
We're  not  the  sport  of  objects  blind, 
Nor  e'en  to  instinct  are  consigned. 
I  walk ;  I  talk ;  I  feel  the  sway 
Of  power  within 
This  nice  machine  -V 
It  cannot  but  obey. 
This  power,  although  with  matter  linked, 
Is  comprehended  as  distinct. 
Indeed,  'tis  comprehended  better, 
In  truth  and  essence,  than  is  matter. 
O'er  all  our  arts  it  is  supreme. 
But  how  doth  matter  understand 
Or  hear  its  sovereign  lord's  command  ? 
Here  doth  a  difficulty  seem  : 

I  see  the  tool  obey  the  hand ; 
But  then  the  hand,  who  guideth  it  ? 
Who  guides  the  stars,  in  order  fit  ? 
Perhaps  each  mighty  world, 
Since  from  its  Maker  hurled, 
Some  angel  may  have  kept  in  custody. 
However  that  may  be, 
A  spirit  dwells  in  such  as  we  p 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  255 

It  moves  our  limbs ;  we  feel  its  mandates  now ; 
We  see  and  know  it  rules,  but  know  not  how  : 

Nor  shall  we  know,  indeed, 
Till  in  the  breast  of  God  we  read. 
And,  speaking  in  all  verity, 
Descartes  is  just  as  ignorant  as  we  ; 
In  things  beyond  a  mortal's  ken, 
He  knows  no  more  than  other  men. 
But,  Iris,  I  confess  to  this, 

That  in  the  beasts  of  which  I  speak 

Such  spirit  it  were  vain  to  seek, 
For  man  its  only  temple  is. 

Yet  beasts  must  have  a  place 

Beneath  our  godlike  race, 

Which  no  mere  plant  requires 

Although  the  plant  respires. 

But  what  shall  one  reply 
To  what  I  next  shall  certify  ? 
Two  rats,  in  foraging,  fell  on  an  egg, — 
For  gentry  such  as  they 
A  genteel  dinner  every  way  ; 
They  needed  not  to  find  an  ox's  leg. 
Brimful  of  joy  and  appetite, 

They  were  about  to  sack  the  box.  , 
So  tight  without  the  aid  of  locks, 
When  suddenly  there  came  in  sight 
A  personage  —  Sir  Pullet  Fox. 
Sure,  luck  was  never  more  untoward 
Since  Fortune  was  a  vixen  froward ! 


256  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

How  should  they  save  their  egg  and  bacon  ? 

Their  plunder  couldn't  then  be  bagged ; 
Should  it  in  forward  paws  be  taken, 

Or  rolled  along,  or  dragged  ? 

Each  method  seemed  impossible, 

And  each  was  then  of  danger  full. 
Necessity,  ingenious  mother, 
Brought  forth  what  helped  them  from  their  pother. 
As  still  there  was  a  chance  to  save  their  prey,  — 
The  spunger  yet  some  hundred  yards  away, — 
One  seized  the  egg,  and  turned  upon  his  back, 
And  then,  in  spite  of  many  a  thump  and  thwack, 
That  would  have  torn,  perhaps,  a  coat  of  mail, 

The  other  dragged  him  by  the  tail. 

Who  dares  the  inference  to  blink, 

That  beasts  possess  wherewith  to  think  ? 

Were  I  commissioned  to  bestow 
This  power  on  creatures  here  below, 
The  beasts  should  have  as  much  of  mind 
As  infants  of  the  human  kind. 
Think  not  the  latter  from  their  birth  ? 
It  hence  appears  there  are  on  earth 
That  have  the  simple  power  of  thought 
Where  reason  hath  no  knowledge  wrought. 

And  on  this  wise  an  equal  power  I'd  yield 

To  all  the  various  tenants  of  the  field ; 

Not  reason  such  as  in  ourselves  we  find, 
But  something  more  than  any  mainspring  blind. 

A  speck  of  matter  I  would  subtilize 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  257 

Almost  beyond  the  reach  of  mental  eyes ;  — 
An  atom's  essence,  one  might  say, 
An  extract  of  a  solar  ray, 
More  quick  and  pungent  than  a  flame  of  fire, — 

For  if  of  flame  the  wood  is  sire, 

Cannot  the  flame,  itself  refined, 

Give  some  idea  of  the  mind  ? 
Comes  not  the  purest  gold 
From  lead,  as  we  are  told  ? 

To  feel  and  choose,  my  work  should  soar  — 

Unthinking  judgment  —  nothing  more. 
No  monkey  of  my  manufacture 
Should  argue  from  his  sense  or  fact,  sure : 

But  my  allotment  to  mankind 

Should  be  of  very  different  mind. 
We  men  should  share  in  double  measure, 
Or  rather  have  a  twofold  treasure  ;  — 

The  one  the  soul,  the  same  in  all 

That  bear  the  name  of  animal  — 

The  sages,  dunces,  great  and  small, 

That  tenant  this  our  teeming  ball ;  — 
The  other,  still  another  soul, 

Which  should  to  mortals  here  belong 

In  common  with  the  angel  throng  $~^v- 
Which,  made  an  independent  whole, 

Could  pierce  the  skies  to  worlds  of  light, 

Within  a  point  have  room  to  be, — 

Its  life  a  morn,  sans  noon  or  night, 

Exempt  from  all  destructive  change,  — 

A  thing  as  real  as  'tis  strange. 


258  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Jn  infancy  this  child  of  day 
Should  glimmer  but  a  feeble  ray. 
Its  earthly  organs  stronger  grown, 
The  beam  of  reason,  brightly  thrown, 
Should  pierce  the  darkness,  thick  and  gross, 
That  holds  the  other,  prisoned  close. 


THE  MICE   AND   THE   OWL. 

Beware  of  saying,  Lend  an  ear 
To  something  marvellous  or  witty. 

To  disappoint  your  friends  who  hear, 
Is  possible,  and  were  a  pity. 

But  now  a  clear  exception  see, 

Which  I  maintain  a  prodigy  — 
A  thing  which,  with  the  air  of  fable, 
Is  true  as  is  the  interest  table. 

A  pine  was  by  a  woodman  felled, 

Which  ancient,  huge,  and  hollow  tree 

An  owl  had  for  his  palace  held  — 
A  bird  the  Fates  had  kept  in  fee, 
Interpreter  to  such  as  we. 
Within  the  caverns  of  the  pine, 
With  other  tenants  of  that  mine, 
Were  found  full  many  footless  mice, 
But  well  provisioned,  fat,  and  nice. 
The  bird  had  bit  off  all  their  feet, 
And  fed  them  there  with  heaps  of  wheat. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  259 

That  this  owl  reasoned,  who  can  doubt  ? 
When  to  the  chase  he  first  went  out, 
And  home  alive  the  vermin  brought, 
Which  in  his  talons  he  had  caught, 
The  nimble  creatures  ran  away. 
Next  time,  resolved  to  make  them  stay, 
He  cropped  their  legs,  and  found,  with  pleasure; 
That  he  could  eat  them  at  his  leisure ; 
It  were  impossible  to  eat 
Them  all  at  once,  did  health  permit. 
His  foresight  equal  to  our  own, 
In  furnishing  their  food,  was  shown. 
Now,  let  Cartesians,  if  they  can, 

Pronounce  this  owl  a  mere  machine.  ^ 
Could  springs  originate  the  plan 
Of  maiming  mice,  when  taken  lean, 
To  fatten  for  his  soup-tureen  ? 
If  reason  did  no  service  there, 
I  do  not  know  it  any  where. 

Observe  the  course  of  argument : 
These  vermin  are  no  sooner  caught  than  gone  : 
They  must  be  used  as  soon,  'tis  evident ; 
But  this  to  all  cannot  be  done. 
And  then,  for  future  need, 
I  might  as  well  take  heed. 
Hence,  while  their  ribs  1  lard,. 
I  must  from  their  elopement  guard. 
But  how  ?  —  A  plan  complete  !  — 
I'll  clip  them  of  their  feet ! 


260  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Now,  find  me,  in  jour  human  schools, 

A  better  use  of  logic's  tools  ! 
Upon  jour  faith,  what  different  art  of  thought 
Has  Aristotle  or  his  followers  taught?* 


*  La  Fontaine,  in  a  note,  asserts  that  the  subject  of  this  fable,  however 
marvellous,  was  a  fact  which  was  actually  observed.  His  commentators, 
however,  think  the  observers  must  have  been  in  some  measure  .mistaken  ; 
and  I  agree  with  them.  —  Ed. 


THE   APE. 

There  is  an  ape  in  Paris, 

To  which  was  given  a  wife : 
Like  man j  a  one  that  marries, 
This  ape,  in  brutal  strife, 
Soon  beat  her  out  of  life. 
Their  infant  cries,  —  perhaps  not  fed,  — 

But  cries,  I  ween,  in  vain ; 
The  father  laughs  :  his  wife  is  dead, 
And  he  has  other  loves  again*--  / 
Which  he  will  also  beat,  I  think,  — 
Returned  from  tavern  drowned  in  drink. 

For  aught  that's  good,  jou  need  not  look 

Among  the  imitative  tribe  ; 
A  monkej  be  it,  or  what  makes  a  book  — 

The  worse,  I  deem  —  the  aping  scribe. 


THE  CAT   AND  THE  TWO   SPARROWS. 

TO    MONSEIGNEUR   THE    DUKE    DE    BOURGOGNE. 

Contemporary  with  a  sparrow  tame 
There  lived  a  cat ;  from  tenderest  age, 
Of  both,  the  basket  and  the  cage 
Had  household  gods  the  same. 
The  bird's  sharp  beak  full  oft  provoked  the  cat, 
Who  played  in  turn,  but  with  a  gentle  pat, 
His  wee  friend  sparing  with  a  merry  laugh, 
Not  punishing  his  faults  by  half. 

In  short,  he  scrupled  much  the  harm, 
Should  he  with  points  his  ferule  arm. 
The  sparrow,  less  discreet  than  he, 
With  dagger  beak  made  very  free. 
Sir  Cat,  a  person  wise  and  staid, 
Excused  the  warmth  with  which  he  played ; 
For  'tis  full  half  of  friendship's  art 
To  take  no  joke  in  serious  part. 
Familiar  since  they  saw  the  light, 

Mere  habit  kept  their  friendship  good ; 
Fair  play  had  never  turned  to  fight, 
Till,  of  their  neighborhood. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Another  sparrow  came  to  greet 
Old  Ratto  grave  and  saucy  Pete. 
Between  the  birds  a  quarrel  rose, 

And  Ratto  took  his  side. 
A  pretty  stranger,  with  such  blows 

To  beat  our  friend  !  he  cried. 
A  neighbor's  sparrow  eating  ours ! 
Not  so,  by  all  the  feline  powers. 
And  quick  the  stranger  he  devours. 

Now,  truly,  saith  Sir  Cat, 
I  know  how  sparrows  taste  by  that. 
Exquisite,  tender,  delicate ! 
This  thought  soon  sealed  the  other's  fate. 
But  hence  what  moral  can  I  bring  ? 
For,  lacking  that  important  thing, 
A  fable  lacks  its  finishing. 
I  seem  to  see  of  one  some  trace, 
But  still  its  shadow  mocks  my  chase. 
Yours,  prince,  it  will  not  thus  abuse: 
For  you  such  sports,  and  not  my  muse. 
In  wit,  she  and  her  sisters  eight 
Would  fail  to  match  you  with  a  mate. 


THE  FOX  WITH  HIS  TAIL  CUT  OFF. 


THE   MISER  AND  THE  MONKEY. 


o 


A  man  amassed.     The  thing  we  know 
Doth  often  to  a  frenzy  grow. 
No  thought  had  he  but  of  his  minted  gold  — 
Stuff  void  of  worth  when  unemployed,  I  hold. 
Now,  that  this  treasure  might  the  safer  be, 

Our  miser's  dwelling  had  the  sea 
As  guard  on  every  side  from  every  thief. 
With  pleasure  very  small  in  my  belief,  r^y/"^ 
But  very  great  in  his,  he  there 
Upon  his  hoard  bestowed  his  care. 

No  respite  came  of  everlasting 

Recounting,  calculating,  casting ; 
For  some  mistake  would  always  come 
To  mar  and  spoil  the  total  sum. 
A  monkey  there,  of  goodly  size,  — 
And  than  his  lord,  I  think,  more  wise,  — 
Some  doubloons  from  the  window  threw, 
And  rendered  thus  the  count  untrue. 

The  padlocked  room  permitted 

Its  owner,  when  he  quitted, 
To  leave  his  money  on  the  table. 

One  day,  bethought  this  monkey  wise 

To  make  the  whole  a  sacrifice 
To  Neptune  on  his  throne  unstable. 

I  could  not  well  award  the  prize 


264  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Between  the  monkey's  and  the  miser's  pleasure 

Derived  from  that  devoted  treasure. 
With  some,  Don  Bertrand  would  the  honor  gain, 
For  reasons  it  were  tedious  to  explain. 
One  day,  then,  left  alone, 
That  animal,  to  mischief  prone, 
Coin  after  coin  detached, 
A  gold  jacobus  snatched, 
Or  Portuguese  doubloon, 
Or  silver  ducatoon, 
Or  noble,  of  the  English  rose, 
And  flung  with  all  his  might 
Those  discs,  which  oft  excite 
The  strongest  wishes  mortal  ever  knows. 
Had  he  not  heard,  at  last, 
The  turning  of  his  master's  key, 
The  money  all  had  passed 
The  same  short  road  to  sea ; 
And  not  a  single  coin  but  had  been  pitched 
Into  the  gulf  by  many  a  wreck  enriched. 

Now,  God  preserve  full  many  a  financier 
Whose  use  of  wealth  may  find  its  likeness  here. 


THE  TWO   GOATS. 


Since  goats  have  browsed,  by  freedom  fired. 
To  follow  fortune  they've  aspired. 
To  pasturage  they're  wont  to  roam 
Where  men  are  least  disposed  to  come. 
If  any  pathless  place  there  be, 

Or  cliff,  or  pendent  precipice, 
5Tis  there ^  they  cut  their  capers  free  : 
There's  nought  can  stop  these  dames,  1  wis 

Two  goats,  thus  self-emancipated,  — 
The  white  that  on  their  feet  they  wore 
Looked  back  to  noble  blood  of  yore,  — 

Once  quit  the  lowly  meadows,  sated, 
And  sought  the  hills,  as  it  would  seem  : 

In  search  of  luck,  by  luck  they  met 
Each  other  at  a  mountain  stream. 

As  bridge  a  narrow  plank  was  set, 
On  which,  if  truth  must  be  confest, 
Two  weasels  scarce  could  go  abreast. 
And  then  the  torrent,  foaming  white, 
As  down  it  tumbled  from  the  height, 
Might  well  those  Amazons  affright. 


266  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

But  maugre  such  a  fearful  rapid, 

Both  took  the  bridge,  the  goats  intrepid ! 
I  seem  to  see  our  Louis  Grand 
And  Philip  IV.  advance 
To  the  Isle  of  Conference, 
That  lies  'twixt  Spain  and  France, 
Each  sturdy  for  his  glorious  land. 
Thus  each  of  our  adventurers  goes, 
Till  foot  to  foot,  and  nose  to  nose, 
Somewhere  about  the  midst  they  meet. 
And  neither  will  an  inch  retreat. 

For  why  ?  they  both  enjoyed  the  glory 

Of  ancestors  in  ancient  story. 
The  one,  a  goat  of  peerless  rank 
Which,  browsing  on  Sicilian  bank, 
The  Cyclop  gave  to  Galataea ; 
The  other  famous  Am  althaea, 
The  goat  that  suckled  Jupiter, 
As  some  historians  aver. 
For  want  of  giving  back,  in  troth, 
A  common  fall  involved  them  both  — 
A  common  accident,  no  doubt, 
On  Fortune's  changeful  route. 


TO  MONSE1GNEUR  THE  DUKE  DE  BOURGOGNE, 


VHO  HAD  REQUESTED  OF  M.  DE  LA  FONTAINE  A  FABLE  WHICH 
SHOULD  BE  CALLED  "  THE  CAT  AND  THE  MOUSE  " 


To  please  a  youthful  prince,  whom  Fame 

A  temple  in  my  writings  vows, 
What  fable  answers  to  the  name, 
"  The  Cat  and  Mouse  ?  " 


Shall  I  in  verse  the  fair  present, 

With  softest  look  but  hard  intent, 

Who  serves  the  hearts  her  charms  entice 

As  does  the  cat  its  captive  mice  ? 

Or  make  my  subject  Fortune's  sport? 

She  treats  the  friends  that  make  her  court, 

And  follow  closest  her  advice, 

As  treats  the  cat  the  silly  mice. 

Shall  I  for  theme  a  king  select 

Who  sole,  of  all  her  favorites, 
Commands  the  goddess's  respect  ? 

For  whom  she  from  her  wheel  alights  ? 


268  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Who,  never  stayed  by  foes  a  trice, 
Whene'er  they  blc*k  his  way, 
Can  with  the  strongest  play 

As  doth  the  cat  with  mice  ? 

Insensibly,  while  casting  thus  about, 
Quite  anxious  for  my  subject's  sake, 
A  theme  I  meet,  and,  if  I  don't  mistake, 

Shall  spoil  it,  too,  by  spinning  out. 

The  prince  will  treat  my  muse,  for  that, 
As  mice  are  treated  by  the  cat. 


THE  COCK   AND  THE  PEARL. 

A  cock  scratched  up,  one  day, 

A  pearl  of  purest  ray, 
Which  to  a  jeweller  he  bore. 

I  think  it  fine,  he  said, 
ut  yet  a  crumb  of  bread 
To  me  were  worth  a  great  deal  more. 

So  did  a  dunce  inherit 

A  manuscript  of  merit, 
Which  to  a  publisher  he  bore. 

'Tis  good,  said  he,  I'm  told, 

Yet  any  coin  of  gold 
To  me  were  worth  a  great  deal  more. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  OLD  CAT   AND  THE   YOUNG  MOUSE, 

A  young  and  inexperienced  mouse 

Had  faith  to  try  a  veteran  cat,  — ■ 

Raminagrobis,  death  to  rat, 
And  scourge  of  vermin  through  the  house,  - 
Appealing  to  his  clemency 

With  reasons  sound  and  fair. 
Pray  let  me  live ;  a  mouse  like, me 

It  were  not  much  to  spare. 
Am  I,  in  such  a  family, 
A  burden  ?     Would  my  largest  wish 
Our  wealthy  host  impoverish  ? 
A  grain  of  wheat  will  make  my  meal ; 
A  nut  will  fat  me  like  a  seal. 
I'm  Jean  at  present:   please  to  wait, 
And  for  your  heirs  reserve  my  fate. 

The  captive  mouse  thus  spake. 
Replied  the  captor,  You  mistake ; 
To  me  shall  such  a  thing  be  said  ? 
Address  the  deaf!  address  the  dead! 
A  cat  to  pardon  !  —  old  one,  too ! 
Why,  such  a  thing  I  never  knew. 

Thou  victim  of  my  paw, 

By  well-established  law, 


270  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Die,  as  a  mousling  should, 
And  beg  the  sisterhood, 
Who  ply  the  thread  and  shears, 
To  lend  thy  speech  their  ears. 
Some  other  like  repast 
My  heirs  may  find,  or  fast. 
He  ceased.     The  moral's  plain. 
Youth  always  hopes  its  ends  to  gain, 
Believes  all  spirits  like  its  own : 
Old  age  is  not  to  mercy  prone. 


THE  EARTHEN  POT  AND  THE  IRON  POT. 

An  iron  pot  proposed 

To  an  earthen  pot  a  journey. 
The  latter  was  opposed, 

Expressing  the  concern  he 
Had  felt  about  the  danger 
Of  going  out  a  ranger. 
He  thought  the  kitchen  hearth 
The  safest  place  on  earth 
For  one  so  very  brittle. 
For  thee,  who  art  a  kettle, 
And  hast  a  tougher  skin, 
There's  nought  to  keep  thee  in. 
I'll  be  thy  body-guard, 

Replied  the  iron  pot ; 
If  any  thing  that's  hard 

Should  threaten  thee  a  jot, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


271 


Between  you  1  will  go, 

And  save  thee  from  the  blow. 

This  offer  him  persuaded. 

The  iron  pot  paraded 

Himself  as  guard  and  guide 

Close  at  his  cousin's  side. 

Now,  in  their  tripod  way, 

They  hobble  as  they  may ; 

And  eke  together  bolt 

At  every  little  jolt,  — 

Which  gives  the  crockery  pain  ; 
But  presently  his  comrade  hits 
So  hard,  he  dashes  him  to  bits, 

Before  he  can  complain. 

Take  care  that  you  associate 
With  equals  only,  lest  your  fate 
Between  these  pots  should  find  its  mate. 


THE  BAT,  THE  BUSH,  AND  THE  DUCK. 

A  bush,  duck,  and  bat,  having  found  that  in  trade 
Confined  to  their  country  small  profits  were  made, 
Into  partnership  entered  to  traffic  abroad,. 
Their  purse,  held  in  common,  well  guarded  from 

fraud. 
Their  factors  and  agents,  these  trading  allies 
Employed  where  they  needed,  as  cautious  as  wise  : 
Their  journals  and  legers,  exact  and  discreet. 
Recorded  by  items  expense  and  receipt. 
All  throve,  till  an  argosy,  on  its  way  home, 
With  a  cargo  worth  more  than  their  capital  sum, 
In  attempting  to  pass  through  a  dangerous  strait, 
Went  down  with  its  passengers,  sailors,  and  freight, 
To  enrich  those  enormous  and  miserly  stores, 
From  Tartarus  distant  but  very  few  doors. 
Regret  was  a  thing  which  the  firm  could  but  feel ; 
Regret  was  the  thing  they  were  slow  to  reveal ; 
For  the  least  of  a  merchant  well  knows  that  the 

weal 
Of  his  credit  requires  him  his  loss  to  conceal. 
But  that  which  our  trio  unluckily  suffered 
Allowed  no  repair,  and  of  course  was  discovered. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  273 

No  money  nor  credit,  'twas  plain  to  be  seen 
Their  heads  were  now  threatened  with  bonnets  of 

green  * ; 
And,  the  facts  of  the  case  being  every  where  known, 
No  mortal  would  open  his  purse  with  a  loan. 
Debts,  bailiffs,  and  lawsuits,  and  creditors  gruff, 
At  the  crack  of  day  knocking, 
(Importunity  shocking!) 
Our  trio  kept  busy  enough. 
The  bush,  ever  ready  and  on  the  alert, 
Now  caught  all  the  people  it  could  by  the  skirt :  — 
Pray,  sir,  be  so  good  as  to  tell,  if  you  please, 
If  you  know  whereabout  the  old  villanous  seas 
Have  hid  all  our  goods  which  they  stole  t'other 

night. 
The  diver,  to  seek  them,  went  down  out  of  sight. 
The  bat  didn't  venture  abroad  in  the  day, 
And  thus  of  the  bailiffs  kept  out  of  the  way. 

Full  many  insolvents,  not  bats,  to  hide  so, 
Nor  bushes,  nor  divers,  I  happen  to  know, 
But  even  grand  seigniors,  quite  free  from  all  cares, 
By  virtue  of  brass,  and  of  private  backstairs. 


*  Such  as  insolvent  debtors  were  anciently  required  (o  wear,  in 
France,  after  making  cession  of  their  effects,  in  order  to  escape  im- 
prisonment. —  Ed. 


274  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  QUARREL  OF  THE  DOGS  AND  CATS,  AND 
THAT   OF  THE   CATS  AND  MICE. 

Enthroned  by  an  eternal  law, 
Hath  Discord  reigned  throughout  the  universe. 
In  proof,  I  might  from  this  our  planet  draw 
A  thousand  instances  diverse. 
Within  the  circle  of  our  view, 
This  queen  hath  subjects  not  a  few. 
Beginning  with  the  elements, 

It  is  astonishing  to  see 
How  they  have  stood,  to  all  intents, 

As  wrestlers  from  eternity. 
Besides  these  four  great  potentates, 

Old  stubborn  earth,  fire,  flood,  and  air, 
How  many  other  smaller  states 
Are  waging  everlasting  war ! 
In  mansion  decked  with  frieze  and  column, 

Dwelt  dogs  and  cats  in  multitudes  ; 
Decrees,  promulged  in  manner  solemn, 
Had  pacified  their  ancient  feuds. 
Their  lord  had  so  arranged  their  meals  and  labors, 
And  threatened  quarrels  with  the  whip, 
That,  living  in  sweet  cousinship 
They  edified  their  wondering  neighbors. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  275 

At  last,  some  dainty  plate  to  lick. 

Or  profitable  bone  to  pick, 

Bestowed  by  some  partiality, 

Broke  up  the  smooth  equality. 

The  side  neglected  were  indignant 

At  such  a  slight  malignant. 
Some  writers  make  the  whole  dispute  begin 
^  With  favors  to  a  bitch  while  lying  in. 

Whatever  the  cause,  the  altercation 

Soon  grew  a  perfect  conflagration. 
In  hall  and  kitchen,  dog  and  cat 
Took  sides  with  zeal  for  this  or  that. 

New  rules  upon  the  cat  side  falling 

Produced  tremendous  caterwauling. 
Their  advocate,  against  such  rules  as  these, 
Advised  recurrence  to  the  old  decrees. 
They  searched  in  vain,  for,  hidden  in  a  nook, 
The  thievish  mice  had  eaten  up  the  book. 

Another  quarrel,  in  a  trice, 

Made  many  sufferers  with  the  mice ; 

For  many  a  veteran  whiskered-face, 
With  craft  and  cunning  richly  stored, 

And  grudges  old  against  the  race, 
Now  watched  to  put  them  to  the  sword ; 
Nor  mourned  for  this  that  mansion's  lord. 


Resuming  our  discourse,  we  see 
No  creature  from  opponents  free. 
'Tis  nature's  law  for  earth  and  sky ; 
'Twere  vain  to  ask  the  reason  why ; 


276  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

.-God's  works  are  good,  —  I  cannot  doubt  it,  — 
/     And  that  is  all  I  know  about  it. 

1  know,  however,  that  the  cause 
Which  hath  our  human  quarrels  brought, 
Three  quarters  of  the  time,  is  nought ^/^ 

That  will  be,  is,  or  ever  was. 
Ye  veterans,  in  state  and  church, 

At  threescore  years,  indeed, 

It  seems  there  still  is  need 
To  give  you  lessons  with  the  birch ! 


THE   LION   GROWN   OLD. 

A  lion,  mourning,  in  his  age,  the  wane 
Of  might  once  dreaded  through  his  wild  domain, 
Was  mocked,  at  last,  upon  his  throne, 
By  subjects  of  his  own, 
Strong  tii rough  his  weakness  grown. 
The  horse  his  head  saluted  with  a  kick ; 
The  wolf  snapped  at  his  royal  hide  ; 
The  ox,  too,  gored  him  in  the  side ; 
The  unhappy  lion,  sad  and  sick, 
Could  hardly  growl,  he  was  so  weak. 

In  uncomplaining,  stoic  pride, 
He  waited  for  the  hour  of  fate, 
Until  the  ass  approached  his  gate  ; 
Whereat,  This  is  too  much,  he  saith , 
I  willingly  would  yield  my  breath ; 
But,  ah  !   thy  kick  is  double  death! 


THE   WOLF  AND  THE   FOX. 

Whence  comes  it  that  there  liveth  not 
A  man  contented  with  his  lot  ? 
Here's  one  who  would  a  soldier  be, 
Whom  soldiers  all  with  envy  see. 

A  fox  to  be  a  wolf  once  sighed. 

With  disappointments  mortified, 

Who  knows  but  that,  his  wolfship  cheap. 

The  wolf  himself  would  be  a  sheep? 

I  marvel  that  a  prince  is  able, 

At  eight,  to  put  the  thing  in  fable ; 

While  f,  beneath  my  seventy  snows, 

Forge  out,  with  toil  and  time, 

The  same  in  labored  rhyme, 

Less  striking  than  his  prose. 

The  traits  which  in  his  work  we  meet, 
A  poet,  it  must  be  confessed, 
Could  not  have  half  so  well  expressed : 

He  bears  the  palm  as  more  complete. 


278  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

'Tis  mine  to  sing  it  to  the  pipe ; 

But  I  expect  that  when  the  sands 
Of  Time  have  made  my  hero  ripe, 

He'll  put  a  trumpet  in  my  hands. 


My  mind  but  little  doth  aspire 
To  prophecy  ;   but  yet  it  reads 
On  high,  that  soon  his  glorious  deeds 
Full  many  Homers  will  require  — 
Of  which  this  age  produces  few. 
But,  bidding  mysteries  adieu, 
I  try  my  powers  upon  this  fable  new. 

Dear  wolf,  complained  a  hungry  fox, 
A  lean  chick's  meat,  or  veteran  cock's, 
Is  all  I  get  by  toil  or  trick: 
Of  such  a  living  I  am  sick. 
With  far  less  risk,  you've  better  cheer ; 
A  house  you  need  not  venture  near, 
But  I  must  do  it,  spite  of  fear. 
Pray,  make  me  master  of  your  trade, 
And  let  me  by  that  means  be  made 
The  first  of  all  my  race  that  took 
Fat  mutton  to  his  larder's  hook : 
Your  kindness  shall  not  be  repented. 
The  wolf  quite  readily  consented. 
I  have  a  brother,  lately  dead ; 
Go  fit  his  skin  to  yours,  he  said. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  279 

'Twas  done ;  and  then  the  wolf  proceeded  : 
Now  mark  you  well  what  must  be  done, 
The  dogs  that  guard  the  flock  to  shun. 
The  fox  the  lessons  strictly  heeded. 
At  first,  he  boggled,  in  his  dress  ; 
But  awkwardness  grew  less  and  less, 
Till  perseverance  gave  success. 
His  education  scarce  complete, 
A  flock,  his  scholarship  to  greet. 

Came  rambling  out  that  way. 
The  new-made  wolf  his  work  began, 
Amidst  the  heedless  nibblers  ran, 

And  spread  a  sore  dismay. 
Such  terror  did  Patroclus  spread, 

When  on  the  Trojan  camp  and  town, 
Clad  in  Achilles'  armor  dread, 
He  valiantly  came  down. 
The  matrons,  maids,  and  aged  men 
All  hurried  to  the  temples  then.  — 
The  bleating  host  now  surely  thought 
That  fifty  wolves  were  on  the  spot : 

Dog,  shepherd,  sheep,  all  homeward  fled, 
And  left  a  single  sheep  in  pawn, 
Which  Renard  seized  when  they  were  gone, 

But,  ere  upon  his  prize  he  fed, 
There  crowed  a  cock  near  by,  and  down 
The  scholar  threw  his  prey  and  gown, 
That  he  might  run  that  way  the  faster  — 
Forgetting  lessons,  prize,  and  master. 


280  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

How  useless  is  the  art  of  seeming ! 

Reality,  in  every  station, 
Is  through  its  cloak  at  all  times  gleaming, 

And  bursting  out  on  fit  occasion. 

Young  prince,  to  your  unrivalled  wic, 
My  muse  gives  credit,  as  is  fit, 
For  what  she  here  hath  labored  with  — 
The  subject,  characters,  and  pith. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  IN  LABOR. 

A  mountain  was  in  travail  pang ; 

The  country  with  her  clamor  rang. 
Out  ran  the  people  all,  to  see, 
Supposing  that  the  birth  would  be 
A  city,  or  at  least  a  house. 
It  was  a  mouse  ! 

In  thinking  of  this  fable, 

Of  story  feigned  and  false, 
But  meaning  veritable, 
My  mind  the  image  calls 
Of  one  who  writes,  "  The  war  I  sing 
\Vhieh  Titans  waged  against  the  Thunder-king.'" 
As  on  the  sounding  verses  ring, 
What  will  be  brought  to  birth  ? 
Why,  dearth. 


S>J1SXL^     ^HIBQlSo 


AGAINST   THE  HARD  TO   SUIT. 


ere  I  a  pet  of  fair  Calliope, 

I  would  devote  the  gifts  conferred  on  me 

To  dress  in  verse  old  iEsop's  lies  divine ; 

For  verse,  and  they,  and  truth,  do  well  combine 

But,  not  a  favorite  on  the  Muses'  hill, 

I  dare  not  arrogate  the  magic  skill 

To  ornament  these  charming  stories. 

A  bard  might  brighten  up  their  glories, 


282  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

No  doubt.     I  try — what  one  more  wise  must  do. 
Thus  much  I  have  accomplished  hitherto ;  — 
By  help  of  my  translation, 
The  beasts  hold  conversation 

In  French,  as  ne'er  they  did  before. 

Indeed,  to  claim  a  little  more, 

The  plants  and  trees,  with  smiling  features, 

Are  turned  by  me  to  talking  creatures. 

Who  says  that  this  is  not  enchanting  ? 

Ah,  say  the  critics,  hear  wrhat  vaunting 

From  one  whose  work,  all  told,  no  more  is 

Than  half  a  dozen  baby-stories. 
Would  you  a  theme  more  credible,  my  censors, 
In  graver  tone, and  style  which  now  and  then  soars? 
Then  list !     For  ten  long  years  the  men  of  Troy, 
By  means  that  only  heroes  can  employ, 
Had  held  the  allied  hosts  of  Greece  at  bay,  — 
Their  minings,  batterings,  stormings,  day  by  day, 
Their  hundred  battles  on  the  crimson  plain, 
Their  blood  of  thousand  heroes,  all  in  vain, — 
When,  by  Minerva's  art,  a  horse  of  wood, 
Of  lofty  size,  before  their  city  stood, 
Whose  flanks  immense  the  sage  Ulysses  hold, 
Brave  Diomed,  and  Ajax  fierce  and  bold, 
Whom,  with  their  myrmidons,  the  huge  machine 
Would  bear  within  the  fated  town  unseen, 
To  wreak  upon  its  very  gods  their  rage  — 
Unheard-of  stratagem,  in  any  age, 
Which  well  its  crafty  authors  did  repay 

Enough,  enough,  our  critic  folks  will  say  ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  283 

Your  period  excites  alarm, 
Lest  you  should  do  your  lungs  some  harm ; 
And  then  your  monstrous  wooden  horse, 
With  squadrons  in  it,  at  their  ease, 
Is  even  harder  to  endorse 
Than  Renard  cheating  Raven  of  his  cheese. 
And,  more  than  that,  it  fits  you  ill 
To  wield  the  old  heroic  quill. 
Well,  then,  a  humbler  tone,  if  such  your  will  is. 
Long  sighed  and  pined  the  jealous  Amaryllis 
For  her  Alcippus,  in  the  sad  belief, 
None,  save  her  sheep  and  dog,  would  know  her  grief 
Thyrsis,  who  knows,  among  the  willows  slips, 
And  hears  the  gentle  shepherdess's  lips 
Beseech  the  kind  and  gentle  zephyr 

To  bear  these  accents  to  her  lover 

Stop,  says  my  censor : 
To  laws  of  rhyme  quite  irreducible, 
That  couplet  needs  again  the  crucible ; 
Poetic  men,  sir, 
Must  nicely  shun  the  shocks 
Of  rhymes  unorthodox. 
A  curse  on  critics !  hold  your  tongue  ! 
Know  I  not  how  to  end  my  song  ? 
Of  time  and  strength  what  greater  waste 
Than  my  attempt  to  suit  your  taste  ? 

/-Some  men,  more  nice  than  wise, 
(     There's  nought  that  satisfies 


284  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  LOBSTER  AND   HER   DAUGHTER. 

The  wise,  sometimes,  as  lobsters  do, 
To  gain  their  ends,  back  foremost  go. 
It  is  the  rower's  art ;  and  those 
Commanders  who  mislead  their  foes, 
Do  often  seem  to  aim  their  sight 
Just  where  they  don't  intend  to  smite. 
My  theme,  so  low,  may  yet  apply 
To  one  whose  feme  is  very  high, 
Who  finds  it  not  the  hardest  matter 
A  hundred-headed  league  to  scatter. 
What  he  will  do,  what  leave  undone, 
Are  secrets  with  unbroken  seals, 
Till  victory  the  truth  reveals. 
Whatever  he  would  have  unknown 
Is  sought  in  vain.     Decrees  of  Fate 
Forbid  to  check,  at  first,  the  course 
Which  sweeps  at  last  with  torrent  force. 
One  Jove,  as  ancient  fables  state, 
Exceeds  a  hundred  gods  in  weight. 
So  Fate  and  Louis  would  seem  able 
The  universe  to  draw, 
Bound  captive  to  their  law. — 
But  come  we  to  our  fable. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


285 


A  mother  lobster  did  her  daughter  chide : 
For  shame,  my  daughter !   can't  you  go  ahead  ? 

And  how  go  you  yourself,  the  child  replied ; 
Can  1  be  but  by  your  example  led  ? 

Head  foremost  should  I,  singularly,  wend, 
While  all  my  race  pursue  the  other  end  ? 
She  spoke  with  sense:  for  better  or  for  worse. 
Example  has  a  universal  force. 
To  some  it  opens  wisdom's  door, 
But  leads  to  folly  many  more. 
Yet,  as  for  backing  to  one's  aim, 
When  properly  pursued 
The  art  is  doubtless  good, 
At  least  in  grim  Bellona's  game. 


THE  EAGLE  AND  THE  MAGPIE. 


The  eagle,  through  the  air  a  queen, 
And  one  far  different,  I  ween, 
In  temper,  language,  thought,  and  mien, — 
The  magpie,  —  once  a  prairie  crossed. 

The  by-path  where  they  met  was  drear, 
And  Madge  gave  up  herself  for  lost , 

But,  having  dined  on  ample  cheer, 

The  eagle  bade  her,  Never  fear ; 
You're  welcome  to  my  company ; 
For  if  the  king  of  gods  can  be 

Full  oft  in  need  of  recreation,  — 
Who  rules  the  world,  —  right  well  may  I, 

Who  serve  him  in  that  high  relation  f 
Amuse  me,  then,  before  you  fly. 
Our  cackler,  pleased,  at  quickest  rate 
Of  this  and  that  began  to  prate. 
Not  he  of  whom  old  Flaccus  writes, 
The  most  impertinent  of  wights, 

Or  any  babbler,  for  that  matter, 

Could  more  incontinently  chatter. 
At  last  she  offered  to  make  known  — 
A  better  spy  had  never  flown  — 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


287 


All  things,  whatever  she  might  see, 

In  travelling  from  tree  to  tree. 

But,  with  her  offer  little  pleased, 

Nay,  gathering  wrath  at  being  teased,- — 

For  such  a  purpose,  never  rove, 

Replied  th'  impatient  bird  of  Jove. 

Adieu,  my  cackling  friend,  adieu ; 

My  court  is  not  the  place  for  you : 

Heaven  keep  it  free  from  such  a  bore. 

Madge  flapped  her  wings,  and  said  no  more. 

^Tis  far  less  easy  than  it  seems 

An  entrance  to  the  great  to  gain. 
The  honor  oft  hath  cost  extremes 

Of  mortal  pain. 
The  craft  of  spies,  the  tattling  art, 
And  looks  more  gracious  than  the  heart, 

Are  odious  there; 
But  still,  if  one  would  meet  success, 
Of  different  parishes  the  dress 
He,  like  the  pie,  must  wear. 


THE  KING,  THE  KITE  AND  THE  FALCONER. 

TO    HIS    AUGUST    HIGHNESS,   MONSE1GNEUR    THE    PRINCE    DE    CONTI. 

The  gods,  for  that  themselves  are  good, 

The  like  in  mortal  monarchs  would. 

The  prime  of  royal  rights  is  grace ; 

To  this  e'en  sweet  revenge  gives  place. 

So  thinks  your  highness,  while  your  wrath 

Its  cradle  for  its  coffin  hath. 

Achilles  no  such  conquest  knew  — 

In  this  a  hero  less  than  you. 

That  name,  indeed,  belongs  to  none, 

Save  those  who  have,  beneath  the  sun, 

Their  hundred  generous  actions  done. 

The  golden  age  produced  such  powers. 

But  truly  few  this  age  of  ours. 

The  men  who  now  the  topmost  sit, 

Are  thanked  for  crimes  which  they  omit. 
For  you,  unharmed  by  such  examples, 
A  thousand  noble  deeds  are  winning  temples, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  gg 

Wherein  Apollo,  by  the  altar-fire, 
Shall  strike  your  name  upon  his  golden  lyre. 
The  gods  await  you  in  their  azure  dome ; 
One  age  must  serve  for  this  your  lower  home. 
One  age  entire  with  you  would  Hymen  dwell : 
O  that  his  sweetest  spell 

For  you  a  destiny  may  bind 

By  such  a  period  scarce  confined ! 
The  princess  and  yourself  no  less  deserve. 

Her  charms  as  witnesses  shall  serve ; 

As  witnesses,  those  talents  high 

Poured  on  you  by  the  lavish  sky, 

Outshining  all  pretence  of  peers 
Throughout  your  youthful  years. 

A  Bourbon  seasons  grace  with  wit : 
To  that  which  gains  esteem,  in  mixture  fit, 

He  adds  a  portion  from  above 
Wherewith  to  waken  love. 
To  paint  your  joy  —  my  task  is  less  sublime  : 

1  therefore  turn  aside  to  rhyme 

What  did  a  certain  bird  of  prey. 

A  kite,  possessor  of  a  nest  antique, 

Was  caught  alive  one  day. 

It  was  the  captor's  freak 

That  this  so  rare  a  bird 
Should  on  his  sovereign  be  conferred. 
The  kite,  presented  by  the  man  of  chase, 
With  due  respect,  before  the  monarch's  face. 


290  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

If  oar  account  is  true, 
Immediately  flew 
And  perched  upon  the  royal  nose. 
What !  on  the  nose  of  majesty  ? 
Ay,  on  the  consecrated  nose  did  he. 
Had  not  the  king  his  sceptre  and  his  crown  ? 
Why,  if  lie  had,  or  had  not,  'twere  all  one : 
The  royal  nose,  as  if  it  graced  a  clown, 

Was  seized.     The  things  by  courtiers  done, 
And  said,  and  shrieked,  'twere  hopeless  to  relate. y 
The  king  in  silence  sate ; 
An  outcry,  for  a  sovereign  king, 
Were  quite  an  unbecoming  thing. 
The  bird  retained  the  post  where  he  had  fastened  ; 
No  cries  nor  efforts  his  departure  hastened. 

His  master  called,  as  in  an  agony  of  pain, 
Presented  lure  and  fist,  but  all  in  vain. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  cursed  bird, 
With  instinct  most  absurd, 
In  spite  of  all  the  noise  and  blows, 
Would  roost  upon  that  sacred  nose ! 
The  urging  off  of  courtiers,  pages,  master, 
But  roused  his  will  to  cling  the  faster. 
At  last  he  quit,  as  thus  the  monarch  spoke : 
Give  egress  hence,  imprimis,  to  this  kite, 
And,  next,  to  him  who  aimed  at  our  delight. 
From  each  his  office  we  revoke. 
The  one  as  kite  we  now  discharge ;  ■ 
The  other,  as  a  forester  at  large. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  291 

As  in  our  station  it  is  fit, 
We  do  all  punishment  remk. 
The  court  admired.    The  courtiers  praised  the  deed 
In  which  themselves  did  but  so  ill  succeed.  — 
Few  kings  had  taken  such  a  course. 
The  fowler  might  have  fared  far  worse ; 
His  only  crime,  as  of  his  kite, 
Consisted  in  his  want  of  light 
About  the  danger  there  might  be 
In  coming  near  to  royalty. 
Forsooth,  their  scope  had  wholly  been 
Within  the  woods.     Was  that  a  sin  ?  — 
By  Pilpay  this  remarkable  affair 

Is  placed  beside  the  Ganges'  flood. 
No  human  creature  ventures,  there, 
To  shed  of  animals  the  blood : 
The  deed  not  even  royalty  would  dare. 

Know  we,  they  say,  — both  lord  and  liege, — 
This  bird  saw  not  the  Trojan  siege  ? 
Perhaps  a  hero's  part  he  bore, 
And  there  the  highest  helmet  wore. 
What  once  he  was,  he  yet  may  be. 
Taught  by  Pythagoras  are  we, 
•-That  we  our  forms  with  animals  exchange  ; 
We're  kites  or  pigeons  for  a  while, 
Then  biped  plodders  on  the  soil ; 
And  then 
As  volatile,  again 
The  liquid  air  we  range.  — 


292  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Now,  since  two  versions  of  this  tale  exist, 
I'll  give  the  other,  if  you  list. 
A  certain  falconer  had  caught 
A  kite,  and  for  his  sovereign  thought 
The  bird  a  present  rich  and  rare. 

It  may  be  once  a  century 
Such  game  is  taken  from  the  air ; 

For  'tis  the  pink  of  falconry. 
The  captor  pierced  the  courtier  crowd, 

With  zeal  and  sweat,  as  if  for  life  : 
Of  such  a  princely  present  proud, 

His  hopes  of  fortune  sprang  full  rife  ; 
When,  slap,  the  savage  made  him  feel 
His  talons  newly  armed  with  steel, 
By  perching  on  his  nasal  member, 
As  if  it  had  been  senseless  timber. 
Outshrieked  the  wight ;  but  peals  of  laughter, 
Which  threatened  ceiling,  roof,  and  rafter, 
From  courtier,  page,  and  monarch  broke  : 
Who  had  not  laughed  at  such  a  joke  ? 
For  me,  so  prone  am  I  to  such  a  sin, 
An  empire  had  not  held  me  in. 
I  dare  not  say,  that,  had  the  pope  been  there, 
He  would  have  joined  the  laugh  sonorous ; 
But  sad  the  king,  I  hold,  who  should  not  dare 
To  lead,  for  such  a  cause,  in  such  a  chorus. 
The  gods  are  laughers.     Spite  of  ebon  brows, 
Jove  joins  the  laugh  which  he  allows. 
As  history  saith,  the  thunderer's  laugh  went  up 
When  limping  Vulcan  served  the  nectar  cup 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  293 

Whether  or  not  immortals  here  are  wise, 
Good  sense,  I  think,  in  my  digression  lies. 
For,  since  the  moral's  what  we  have  in  view, 
What  could  the  falconer's  fate  have  taught  us  new? 
Who  does  not  notice,  in  the  course  of  things, 
More  foolish  falconers  than  indulgent  kings  c 


THE   ARBITER,  THE  ALMONER,   AND   THE   HERMIT. 

Three  saints,  for  their  salvation  jealous, 
Pursued,  with  hearts  alike  most  zealous, 

By  routes  diverse,  their  common  aim. 
^Vll  highways  lead  to  Rome :  the  same 

Of  heaven  our  rivals  deeming  true, 
Each  chose  alone  his  pathway  to  pursue. 
Moved  by  the  cares,  delays,  and  crosses, 
Attached  to  suits  by  legal  process, 
One  gave  himself  as  judge,  without  reward, 
For  earthly  fortune  having  small  regard. 

Since  there  are  laws,  to  legal  strife 

Man  damns  himself  for  half  his  life." 
For  half  ?  —  Three  fourths  !  —  perhaps  the  whole  ! 

The  hope  possessed  our  umpire's  soul, 
That  on  his  plan  he  should  be  able 
To  cure  this  vice  detestable.  — 
The  second  chose  the  hospitals. 

I  give  him  praise :  to  solace  pain 

Is  charity  not  spent  in  vain, 
While  men  in  part  are  animals. 


294  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

The  sick — for  things  went  then  as  now  they  go — 
Gave  trouble  to  the  almoner,  I  trow. 
Impatient,  sour,  complaining  ever, 
As  racked  by  rheum,  or  parched  with  fever, — 
His  favorites  are  such  and  such ; 
With  them  he  watches  over-much, 

And  lets  us  die,  they  say.  — 
Such  sore  complaints  from  day  to  day 
Were  nought  to  those  that  did  await 
The  reconciler  of  debate. 
His  judgments  suited  neither  side; 
Forsooth,  in  either  party's  view, 
He  never  held  the  balance  true, 
But  swerved  in  every  cause  he  tried. 

Discouraged  by  such  speech,  the  arbiter 
Betook  himself  to  see  the  almoner. 
As  both  received  but  murmurs  for  their  fees, 
They  both  retired,  in  not  the  best  of  moods, 
To  break  their  troubles  to  the  silent  woods, 
And  hold  communion  with  the  ancient  trees. 
There,  underneath  a  rugged  mountain,    - 
Beside  a  clear  and  silent  fountain, 
A  place  revered  by  winds,  to  sun  unknown, 
They  found  the  other  saint,  who  lived  alone. 
Forthwith  they  asked  his  sage  advice. 
Your  own,  he  answered,  must  suffice ; 
Who  but  yourselves  your  wants  should  know  I 
To  know  one's  self,  is,  here  below, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  295 

The  first  command  of  the  Supreme. 
Have  you  obeyed,  among  the  bustling  throngs  3 
Such  knowledge  to  tranquillity  belongs ; 

Elsewhere  to  seek  were  fallacy  extreme. 
Disturb  the  water  —  do  you  see  your  face  ? 
See  we  ourselves  within  a  troubled  breast  I 

A  murky  cloud,  in  such  a  case, 

Though  once  it  were  a  crystal  vase ! 

But,  brothers,  let  it  simply  rest, 
And  each  shall  see  his  features  there  impressed. 
For  inward  thought  a  desert  home  is  best. 

Such  was  the  hermit's  answer  brief ; 
And,  happily,  it  gained  belief. 

But  business,  still,  from  life  must  not  be  stricken. 

HSince  men  will  doubtless  sue  at  law,  and  sicken, 
Physicians  there  must  be,  and  advocates,  — 
Whereof,  thank  God,  no  lack  the  world  awaits, 
While  wealth  and  honors  are  the  well-known  baits. 
Yet,  in  the  stream  of  common  wants  when  thrown, 
What  busy  mortal  but  forgets  his  own  ? 
O,  you  who  give  the  public  all  your  care, 
Be  it  as  judge,  or  prince,  or  minister, 
Disturbed  by  countless  accidents  most  sinister, 
By  adverse  gales  abased,  debased  by  fair,  — 

-Yourself  you  never  see,  nor  see  you  aught. 
Comes  there  a  moment's  rest  for  serious  thought, 
There  comes  a  flatterer  too,  and  brings  it  all  tov 
nought. 


296  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

This  lesson  seals  our  varied  page  * 
O,  may  it  teach  from  age  to  age ! 

To  kings  1  give  it,  to  the  wise  propose. 

Where  could  my  labors  better  close  ? 


THE  SUN  AND  THE  FROGS. 

Rejoicing  on  their  tyrant's  wedding-day, 
The  people  drowned  their  care  in  drink ; 
While  from  the  general  joy  did  iEsop  shrink, 

And  showed  its  folly  in  this  way. 
The  sun,  said  he,  once  took  it  in  his  head 

To  have  a  partner  for  his  bed. 
From  swamps,  and  ponds,  and  marshy  bogs, 
Up  rose  the  wailings  of  the  frogs. 
What  shall  we  do,  should  he  have  progeny  ? 
Said  they  to  Destiny  ; 
One  sun  we  scarcely  can  endure, 
And  half  a  dozen,  we  are  sure, 
Will  dry  the  very  sea. 
Adieu  to  marsh  and  fen ! 
Our  race  will  perish  then, 
Or  be  obliged  to  fix 
Their  dwelling  in  the  Styx ! 
For  such  a  humble  animal, 
The  frog,  I  take  it,  reasoned  well. 


THti  FOX,  THE  FLIES,  AND  THE  HEDGEHOG. 

A  fox,  old,  subtle,  vigilant,  and  sly,  — 
By  hunters  wounded,  fallen  in  the  mud,  — 
Attracted,  by  the  traces  of  his  blood, 
That  buzzing  parasite,  the  fly. 
He  blamed  the  gods,  and  wondered  why 
The  Fates  so  cruelly  should  wish 
To  feast  the  fly  on  such  a  costly  dish. 
What !  light  on  me  !  make  me  its  food  ! 
Me,  me,  the  nimblest  of  the  wood  ! 
How  long  has  fox-meat  been  so  good  ? 
What  serves  my  tail  ?     Is  it  a  useless  weight  ? 
Go, — Heaven  confound  thee,  greedy  reprobate  !- 
And  suck  thy  fill  from  some  more  vulgar  veins  ! 
A  hedgehog,  witnessing  his  pains, 
(This  fretful  personage 
Here  graces  first  my  page,) 
Desired  to  set  him  free 
From  such  cupidity. 
My  neighbor  fox,  said  he, 
My  quills  these  rascals  shall  empale. 
And  ease  thy  torments  without  fail. 


298  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Not  for  the  world,  my  friend!   the  fox  replied. 

Pray  let  them  finish  their  repast. 
These  flies  are  full.     Should  they  be  set  aside,  "\ 

New,  hungrier  swarms  would  finish  me  at  last. 

Consumers  are  too  common  here  below, 
In  court  and  camp,  in  church  and  state,  we  know. 
Old  Aristotle's  penetration 
Remarked  our  fable's  application  ; 
It  might  more  clearly  in  our  nation. 
The  fuller  certain  men  are  fed, 
The  less  the  public  will  be  bled. 


THE  WORDS  OF  SOCRATES. 

A  house  was  built  by  Socrates 
That  failed  the  public  taste  to  please. 

Some  blamed  the  inside ;  some,  the  out ;  and  all 
Agreed  that  the  apartments  were  too  small. 

Such  rooms  for  him,  the  greatest  sage  of  Greece ! 
I  ask,  said  he,  no  greater  bliss 
Than  real  friends  to  fill  e'en  this. 
And  reason  had  good  Socrates 
To  think  his  house  too  large  for  these. 
A  crowd  to  be  your  friends  will  claim, 

Till  some  unhandsome  test  you  bring. 
There's  nothing  plentier  than  the  name ; 
There's  nothing  rarer,  than  the  thing. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


LOVE  AND   FOLLY. 

Love  bears  a  world  of  mystery  — 
His  arrows,  quiver,  torch,  and  infancy ; 
'Tis  not  a  trifling  work  to  sound 
A  sea  of  science  so  profound  : 
And,  hence,  t'  explain  it  all  to-day 
Is  not  my  aim,  but,  in  my  simple  way, 
To  show  how  that  blind  archer  lad 

(And  he  a  god !)  came  by  the  loss  of  sight, 
And  eke  what  consequence  the  evil  had, 
Or  good,  perhaps,  if  named  aright  — 
A  point  I  leave  the  lover  to  decide, 
As  fittest  judge,  who  hath  the  matter  tried. 
Together,  on  a  certain  day, 
Said  Love  and  Folly  were  at  play : 
The  former  yet  enjoyed  his  eyes. 
Dispute  arose.     Love  thought  L  wise 
Before  the  council  of  the  gods  to  go, 
Where  both  of  them  by  birth  held  stations ; 
But  Folly,  in  her  lack  of  patience, 

Dealt  on  his  forehead  such  a  blow 
As  sealed  his  orbs  to  all  the  light  of  heaven. 
Now  Venus  claimed  that  vengeance  should  be  given 
And  by  what  force  of  tears  yourselves  may  guess 
The  woman  and  the  mother  sought  redress. 


300  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

The  gods  were  deafened  with  her  cries  — 
Jove,  Nemesis,  the  stern  assize 
Of  Orcus,  —  all  the  gods,  in  short, 
From  whom  she  might  the  boon  extoit. 
The  enormous  wrong  she  well  portrayed  - 
Her  son  a  wretched  groper  made, 
An  ugly  staff  his  steps  to  aid ! 
For  such  a  crime,  it  would  appear, 
No  punishment  could  be  severe : 
The  damage,  too,  must  be  repaired. 

The  case  maturely  weighed  and  cast, 
The  public  weal  with  private  squared : 
s  Poor  Folly  was  condemned,  at  last, 
By  judgment  of  the  court  above, 
To  serve  for  aye  as  guide  to  Love. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  301 


FORTUNE  AND  THE  BOY. 

Beside  a  well,  uncurbed  and  deep, 
A  schoolboy  laid  him  down  to  sleep : 
(Such  rogues  can  do  so  any  where.) 
If  some  kind  man  had  seen  him  there, 
He  would  have  leaped  as  if  distracted ; 
But  Fortune  much  more  wisely  acted  ; 
For,  passing  by,  she  softly  waked  the  child, 
Thus  whispering  in  accents  mild  :  — 
I  save  your  life,  my  little  dear, 
And  beg  you  not  to  venture  here 
Again,  for,  had  you  fallen  in, 
I  should  have  had  to  bear  the  sin  ; 
But  I  demand,  in  reason's  name, 
If  for  your  rashness  I'm  to  blame. 
With  this  the  goddess  went  her  way. 
I  like  her  logic,  I  must  say. 
There  takes  place  nothing  on  this  planet, 
But  Fortune  ends,  whoe'er  began  it. 
In  all  adventures,  good  or  ill, 
We  look  to  her  to  foot  the  bill. 
Has  one  a  stupid,  empty  pate, 
That  serves  him  never  till  too  late? 
He  clears  himself  by  blaming  Fate 


302  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   RAVEJN,  THE   GAZELLE,   THE   TORTOISE,  AND 
THE   RAT. 


TO    MADAM    DE    LA    3ABLIERE. 


A  temple  I  reserved  you,  in  my  rhyme : 
It  might  not  be  completed  but  with  time. 
Already  its  endurance  I  had  grounded 
Upon  this  charming  art,  divinely  founded ; 
And  on  the  name  of  that  divinity 
For  whom  its  adoration  was  to  be. 
These  words  I  should  have  written  o'er  its  gate  — 
To  Iris  is  this  palace  consecrate; 
Not  her  who  served  the  queen  divine  ; 
For  Juno's  self,  and  he  who  crowned  her  bliss, 
Had  thought  it  for  their  dignity,  I  wis, 
To  bear  the  messages  of  mine. 
Within  the  dome  the  apotheosis 
Should  greet  th'  enraptured  sight  — 
All  heaven,  in  pomp  and  order  meet, 
Conducting  Iris  to  her  seat 
Beneath  a  canopy  of  light ! 
The  walls  would  amply  serve  to  paint  her  life,  — - 
A  matter  sweet,  indeed,  but  little  rife 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  303 

In  those  events,  which,  ordered  by  the  Fates, 
Cause  birth,  or  change,  or  overthrow  of  states. 
The  innermost  should  hold  her  image,  — 

Her  features,  smiles,  attractions  there,  — 

Her  art  of  pleasing  without  care,  — 
Her  loveliness,  that's  sure  of  homage. 
Some  mortals,  kneeling  at  her  feet,  — 
Earth's  noblest  heroes,  —  should  be  seen  ; 
Ay,  demigods,  and  even  gods,  I  ween : 

(The  worshipped  of  the  world  thinks  meet. 
Sometimes,  her  altar  to  perfume.) 

Her  eyes,  so  far  as  that  might  be, 
/Her  soul's  rich  jewel  should  illume  ; 

Alas  !  but  bow  imperfectly  ! 
For  could  a  heart  that  throbbed  to  bless 
Its  friends  with  boundless  tenderness,  — 
Or  could  that  heaven-descended  mind 
Which,  in  its  matchless  beauty,  joined 
The  strength  of  man  with  woman's  grace,  — 
Be  given  to  sculptor  to  express  ? 
O  Iris,  who  canst  charm  the  soul, 
Nay,  bind  it  with  supreme  control,  — 

Whom  as  myself  I  can  but  love,  — 
(Nay,  not  that  word  :  as  I'm  a  man, 
Your  court  has  placed  it  under  ban, 

And  we'll  dismiss  it,)  pray  approve 
My  filling  up  this  hasty  plan ! 
This  sketch  has  here  received  a  place, 
A  simple  anecdote  to  grace, 
•-Where  friendship  shows  so  sweet  a  face, 


304  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

That  in  its  features  you  may  find 
Somewhat  accordant  to  your  mind. 
Not  that  the  tale  may  kings  beseem ; 
But  he  who  winneth  your  esteem 
Is  not  a  monarch,  placed  above 
The  need  and  influence  of  love, 
But  simple  mortal,  void  of  crown, 
That  would  for  friends  his  life  lay  down  — 
Than  which  I  know  no  friendlier  act. 
Four  animals,  in  league  compact, 
Are  now  to  give  our  noble  race 
A  useful  lesson  in  the  case. 

Rat,  raven,  tortoise,  and  gazelle, 
Once  into  firmest  friendship  fell. 
'Twas  in  a  home  unknown  to  man 
That  they  their  happiness  began. 

But  safe  from  man  there's  no  retreat : 
Pierce  you  the  loneliest  wood, 
Or  dive  beneath  the  deepest  flood, 
Or  mount  you  where  the  eagles  brood,  — 

His  secret  ambuscade  you  meet. 
The  light  gazelle,  in  harmless  play, 
Amused  herself  abroad  one  day, 
When,  by  mischance,  her  track  was  found 
And  followed  by  the  baying  hound  — 
That  barbarous  tool  of  barbarous  man  — 
From  which  far,  far  away  she  ran. 

At  meal-time,  to  the  others 

The  rat  observed,  —  My  brothers, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  305 

How  happens  it  that  we 
Are  met  to-day  but  three  ? 
Is  Miss  Gazelle  so  little  steady  ? 
Hath  she  forgotten  us  already  ? 
Out  cried  the  tortoise,  at  the  word,  — 
Were  I,  as  Raven  is,  a  bird, 

I'd  fly  this  instant  from  my  seat, 
And  learn  what  accident,  and  where, 
Hath  kept  away  our  sister  fair,  — 

Our  sister  of  the  flying  feet ; 
For  of  her  heart,  dear  rat, 
It  were  a  shame  to  doubt  of  that. 

The  raven  flew ; 
He  spied  afar,  —  the  face  he  knew,  — 
The  poor  gazelle  entangled  in  a  snare. 
In  anguish  vainly  floundering  there. 
Straight  back  he  turned,  and  gave  the  alarm ; 
/HBor  to  have  asked  the  sufferer  now, 

The  why  and  wherefore,  when  and  how, 
She  had  incurred  so  great  a  harm,  — 
And  lose  in  vain  debate 
"""^he  turning-point  of  fate, 
As  would  the  master  of  a  school,  — 
He  was  by  no  means  such  a  fool. 
On  tidings  of  so  sad  a  pith, 
The  three  their  council  held  forthwith. 
By  two  it  was  the  vote 
To  hasten  to  the  spot 
Where  lay  the  poor  gazelle. 
Our  friend  here  in  his  shell, 
I  think,  will  do  as  well 


306  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

To  guard  the  house,  the  raven  said ; 

For,  with  his  creeping  pace, 

When  would  he  reach  the  place  ? 

Not  till  the  deer  were  dead. 

Eschewing  more  debate, 

They  flew  to  aid  their  mate, 

That  luckless  mountain  roe. 

The  tortoise,  too,  resolved  to  go. 

Behold  him  plodding  on  behind, 

And  plainly  cursing,  in  his  mind, 
The  fate  that  left  his  legs  to  lack, 
And  glued  his  dwelling  to  his  back. 
The  snare  was  cut  by  Rongemail, 
(For  so  the  rat  they  rightly  hail.) 
Conceive  their  joy  yourself  you  may. 
Just  then  the  hunter  came  that  way, 
And,  Who  hath  filched  my  prey  ? 

Cried  he,  upon  the  spot 

Where  now  his  prey  was  not, — ■ 

A  hole  hid  Rongemail ; 

A  tree,  the  bird  as  well ; 

The  woods,  the  free  gazelle. 

The  hunter,  well  nigh  mad, 
To  find  no  inkling  could  be  had, 
Espied  the  tortoise  in  his  path, 
And  straightway  checked  his  wrath. 

Why  let  my  courage  flag 
Because  my  snare  has  chanced  to  miss  ? 
I'll  have  a  supper  out  of  this. 

He  said,  and  put  it  in  his  bag. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  307 

And  it  had  paid  the  forfeit  so, 
Had  not  the  raven  told  the  roe, 
Who  from  her  covert  came, 
Pretending  to  be  lame. 
The  man,  right  eager  to  pursue, 
Aside  his  wallet  threw, 
Which  Rongemail  took  care 
To  serve  as  he  had  done  the  snare ; 

Thus  putting  to  an  end 
The  hunter's  supper  on  his  friend. 
'Tis  thus  sage  Pil pay's  tale  I  follow. 
Were  I  the  ward  of  golden-haired  Apollo, 
It  were,  by  favor  of  that  god,  easy  — 
And  surely  for  your  sake  — 
As  long  a  tale  to  make 
As  is  the  Iliad  or  Odyssey. 
Gray  Rongemail  the  hero's  part  should  play, 
Though  each  would  be  as  needful  in  his  way. 
He  of  the  mansion  portable  awoke 
Sir  Raven,  by  the  words  he  spoke, 
To  act  the  spy,  and  then  the  swift  express. 
The  light  gazelle  alone  had  had  th'  address 
The  hunter  to  engage,  and  furnish  time 
For  Rongemail  to  do  his  deed  sublime. 
Thus  each  his  part  performed.      Which  wins  the 

prize  ? 
The  heart,  so  far  as  in  my  judgment  lies. 


THE  WOODS  AND  THE  WOODMAN. 

A  certain  wood-chopper  lost  or  broke 
From  his  axe's  eye  a  bit  of  oak. 
The  forest  must  needs  be  somewhat  spared 
While  such  a  loss  was  being  repaired. 
Came  the  man  at  last,  and  humbly  prayed 
That  the  woods  would  kindly  lend  to  him  — 
A  moderate  loan  —  a  single  limb, 
Whereof  might  another  helve  be  made, 
And  his  axe  should  elsewhere  drive  its  trade. 
O,  the  oaks  and  firs  that  then  might  stand, 
A  pride  and  a  joy,  throughout  the  land, 
For  their  ancientness  and  glorious  charms ! 
The  innocent  Forest  lent  him  arms ; 
But  bitter  indeed  was  her  regret ; 
For  the  wretch,  his  axe  new-helved  and  whet, 
Did  nought  but  his  benefactress  spoil 
Of  the  finest  trees  that  graced  her  soil ; 
And  ceaselessly  was  she  made  to  groan, 
Doing  penance  for  that  fatal  loan. 

^Behold  the  world-stage  and  its  actors, 
Where  benefits  hurt  benefactors  !  — 


'  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  309 

A  weary  theme,  and  full  of  pain ; 
For  where's  the  shade'  so  cool  and  sweet, 
Protecting  strangers  from  the  heat, 
But  might  of  such  a  wrong  complain  ? 
Alas  !  I  vex  myself  in  vain  : 
Ingratitude,  do  what  1  will, 
Is  sure  to  be  the  fashion  still. 


THE  FOX  AND  THE  BUST 

^The  great  are  like  the  maskers  of  the  stage ; 
Their  show  deceives  the  simple  of  the  age. 
For  all  that  they  appear  to  be  they  pass, 
With  only  those  whose  type  's  the  ass^^v^ 
The  fox,  more  wary,  looks  beneath  the  skin, 
And  looks  on  every  side,  and,  when  he  sees 

That  all  their  glory  is  a  semblance  thin, 
He  turns,  ajid  saves  the  hinges  of  his  knees, 
With  such  a  speech  as  once,  'tis  said, 
He  uttered  to  a  hero's  head. 
A  bust,  somewhat  colossal  in  its  size, 
Attracted  crowds  of  wondering  eyes. 
The  fox  admired  the  sculptor's  pains  ; 
y -"^Fine  head,  said  he,  but  void  of  brains! 

The  same  remark  to  many  a  lord  applies.^/ 


THE  FOX,  THE   WOLF,  AND  THE  HORSE. 

A  fox,  though  young,  by  no  means  raw, 
Had  seen  a  horse  —  the  first  he  ever  saw  : 
Ho !  neighbor  wolf,  said  he  to  one  quite  green, 
A  creature  in  oui>meadow  I  have  seen,  — 
Sleek,  grand !  I  seem  to  see  him  yet,  — 
The  finest  beast  I  ever  met. 
Is  he  a  stouter  one  than  we  r 
The  wolf  demanded,  eagerly. 
Some  picture  of  him  let  me  see. 
If  I  could  paint,  said  fox,  I  should  delight 
TJ  anticipate  your  pleasure  at  the  sight ; 
But  come  ;  who  knows  ?  perhaps  it  is  a  prey 
By  fortune  offered  in  our  way. 
They  went.     The  horse,  turned  loose  to  graze, 
Not  liking  much  their  looks  or  ways, 
Was  just  about  to  gallop  off. 
Sir,  said  the  fox,  your  humble  servants,  we 
Make  bold  to  ask  you  what  your  name  may  be. 

The  horse,  an  animal  with  brains  enough, 
Replied,  Sirs,  you  yourselves  may  read  my  name ; 
My  shoer  round  my  heel  hath  writ  the  same. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  3H 

The  fox  excused  himself  for  want  of  knowledge 

Me,  sir,  my  parents  did  not  educate,  — 
'  So  poor,  a  hole  was  their  entire  estate. 
My  friend,  the  wolf,  however,  taught  at  college, 
Could  read  it  were  it  even  Greek. 

The  wolf,  to  flattery  weak, 
Approached,  to  verify  the  boast ; 
For  which,  four  teeth  he  lost. 
The  high-raised  hoof  came  down  with  such  a  blow: 
As  laid  him  bleeding  on  the  ground  full  low. 
My  brother,  said  the  fox,  this  shows  how  just 

What  once  was  taught  me  by  a  fox  of  wit,  — 
.—Which  on  thy  jaws  this  animal  hath  wTrit, — 
"  All  unknown  things  the  wise  mistrust." 


THE  BIRD  WOUNDED  BY  AN   ARROW. 

A  bird,  with  plumed  arrow  shot, 
In  dying  case  deplored  her  lot: 
Alas  !  she  cried,  the  anguish  of  the  thought ! 
This  ruin  partly  by  myself  was  brought ! 
Hard-hearted  men  !  from  us  to  borrow 
What  wings  to  us  the  fatal  arrow ! 
But  mock  us  not,  ye  cruel  race, 
For  you  must  often  take  our  place. 

I  The  work  of  half  the  human  brothers 
nJs  making  arms  against  the  others. 


312  LA  FONTAIXE'S  FABLES. 


THE  DOVE  AND  THE  ANT. 

The  same  instruction  we  may  get 
From  another  couple,  smaller  jet. 

A  dove  came  to  a  brook  to  drink, 

When,  leaning  o'er  its  crumbling  brink, 

An  ant  fell  in,  and  vainly  tried, 

In  this  to  her  an  ocean  tide, 

To  reach  the  land  ;  whereat  the  dove, 

With  every  living  thing  in  love, 

Was  prompt  a  spire  of  grass  to  throw  her, 

By  which  the  ant  regained  the  shore. 

A  barefoot  scamp,  both  mean  and  sly, 
Soon  after  chanced  this  dove  to  spy ; 
And,  being  armed  with  bow  and  arrow, 
The  hungry  codger  doubted  not 
The  bird  of  Venus,  in  his  pot, 
Would  make  a  soup  before  the  morrow. 
Just  as  his  deadly  bow  he  drew, 
Our  pismire  stung  his  heel. 
Roused  by  the  villain's  squeal, 
The  dove  took  timely  hint,  and  flew 
Far  from  the  rascal's  coop  ;  — 
And  with  her  flew  his  soup. 


THE   SCYTHIAN   PHILOSOPHER. 

A  Scythian  philosopher  austere, 
Resolved  his  rigid  life  somewhat  to  cheer, 
Performed  the  tour  of  Greece,  saw  many  things, 
But,  best,  a  sage,  —  one  such  as  Virgil  sings, — 
A  simple,  rustic  man,  that  equaled  kings ; 
From  whom  the  gods  would  hardly  bear  the  palm, 
Like  them  unawed,  content,  and  calm.^^^^ 
His  fortune  was  a  little  nook  of  land ; 
And  there  the  Scythian  found  him,  hook  in  hand, 
His  fruit-trees  pruning.     Here  he  cropped 
A  barren  branch,  there  slashed  and  lopped, 
Correcting  Nature  every  where, 
Who  paid  with  usury  his  care. 
Pray,  why  this  wasteful  havoc,  sir  ?  — 
So  spoke  the  wondering  traveller ;  — 
Can  it,  I  ask,  in  reason's  name, 
Be  wise  these  harmless  trees  to  maim  ? 
Fling  down  that  instrument  of  crime, 
And  leave  them  to  the  scythe  of  Time. 
Full  soon,  unhastened,  they  will  go 
To  deck  the  banks  of  streams  below. 
Replied  the  tranquil  gardener, 
1  humbly  crave  your  pardon,  sir ; 


314  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Excess  is  all  my  hook  removes, 

By  which  the  rest  more  fruitful  proves. 

The  philosophic  traveller,  — 
Once  more  within  his  country  cold,  — 
Himself  of  pruning-hook  laid  hold, 
And  made  a  use  most  free  and  bold ; 

Prescribed  to  friends,  and  counseled  neighbors, 

To  imitate  his  pruning  labors. 

The  finest  limbs  he  did  not  spare, 

But  pruned  his  orchard  past  all  reason, 

Regarding  neither  time  nor  season, 
Nor  taking  of  the  moon  a  care. 
All  withered,  drooped,  and  died. 

This  Scythian  1  set  beside 
The  indiscriminating  Stoic. 
The  latter,  with  a  blade  heroic, 
Retrenches,  from  his  spirit  sad, 
Desires  and  passions,  good  and  bad. 
Not  sparing  e'en  a  harmless  wish. 
Against  a  tribe  so  Vandalish 
With  earnestness  I  here  protest. 

They  maim  our  hearts ;  they  stupefy 

Their  strongest  springs,  if  not  their  best ; 

They  make  us  cease  to  live  before  we  die.  ,-~4 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  315 


THE  ELEPHANT   AND  THE   APE   OF  JUPITER. 

'Twixt  elephant  and  beast  of  horned  nose 
About  precedence  a  dispute  arose, 
Which  they  determined  to  decide  by  blows. 
The  day  was  fixed,  when  came  a  messenger 
To  say  the  ape  of  Jupiter 
Was  swiftly  earthward  seen  to  bear 
His  bright  caduceus  through  the  air. 
This  monkey,  named  in  history  Gill, 

The  elephant  at  once  believed 
•    A  high  commission  had  received 
To  witness,  by  his  sovereign's  will, 
The  aforesaid  battle  fought. 
Uplifted  by  the  glorious  thought, 
The  beast  was  prompt  on  Monsieur  Gill  to  wait, 
But  found  him  slow,  in  usual  forms  of  state, 
His  high  credentials  to  present. 
The  ape,  however,  ere  he  went, 
Bestowed  a  passing  salutation. 
His  excellency  would  have  heard 
The  subject  matter  of  legation : 
But  not  a  word  ! 
His  fight,  so  far  from  stirring  heaven,  — 
The  news  was  not  received  there,  even ! 


316  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

What  difference  sees  the  impartial  skj 

Between  an  elephant  and  fly  ? 
Our  monarch,  doting  on  his  object, 
Was  forced  himself  to  break  the  subject. 

My  cousin  Jupiter,  said  he, 
Will  shortly,  from  his  throne  supreme, 

A  most  important  combat  see, 
For  all  his  court  a  thrilling  theme. 
What  combat  ?  said  the  ape,  with  serious  face. 
Is't  possible  you  should  not  know  the  case  %  — 
The  elephant  exclaimed  —  not  know,  deal  sir, 
That  Lord  Rhinoceros  disputes 
With  me  precedence  of  the  brutes  ? 
That  Elephantis  is  at  war 
With  savage  hosts  of  Rhinocer  ? 
You  know  these  realms,  not  void  of  fame  \ 
I  joy  to  learn  them  now  by  name, 
Returned  Sir  Gill,  for,  first  or  last, 
No  lisp  of  them  has  ever  passed, 
Throughout  our  dome  so  blue  and  vast. 
Abashed,  the  elephant  replied, 

What  came  you,  then,  to  do?  — 
Between  two  emmets  to  divide 
A  spire  of  grass  in  two. 
Wre  take  of  all  a  care ; 
And,  as  to  your  affair, 
Before  the  gods,  who  view  with  equal  eyes 
The  small  and  great,  it  hath  not  chanced  to  rise. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  317 


THE  FOX  AND  THK  TURKEYS. 

Against  a  robber  fox,  a  tree 

Some  turkeys  served  as  citadel. 
That  villain,  much  provoked  to  see 
Each  standing  there  as  sentinel, 
Cried  out,  Such  witless  birds 

At  me  stretch  out  their  necks,  and  gobble  ! 

No,  by  the  powers!  I'll  give  them  trouble. 
He  verified  his  words. 
The  moon,  that  shined  full  on  the  oak, 
Seemed  then  to  help  the  turkey  folk. 
But  fox,  in  arts  of  siege  well  versed, 
Ransacked  his  bag  of  tricks  accursed. 
He  feigned  himself  about  to  climb; 
Walked  on  his  hinder  legs  sublime ; 

Then  death  most  aptly  counterfeited, 

And  seemed  anon  resuscitated. 
A  practiser  of  wizard  arts 
Could  not  have  filled  so  many  parts. 
In  moonlight  he  contrived  to  raise 
His  tail,  and  make  it  seem  a  blaze : 
And  countless  other  tricks  like  that. 
Meanwhile,  no  turkey  slept  or  sat. 


318  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Their  constant  vigilance  at  length, 

As  hoped  the  fox,  wore  out  their  strength. 

Bewildered  by  the  rigs  he  run, 

They  lost  their  balance  one  by  one. 

As  Renard  slew,  he  laid  aside, 

Till  nearly  half  of  them  had  died ; 

Then  proudly  to  his  larder  bore, 

And  laid  them  up,  an  ample  store. 

A  foe,  by  being  over-heeded, 
Has  often  in  his  plan  succeeded. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  319 


THE  FOOL  AND  THE  SAGE. 

A  fool  pursued,  with  club  and  stone, 
A  sage,  who  said,  My  friend,  well  done  t 
Receive  this  guinea  for  your  pains ; 
They  well  deserve  far  higher  gains. 
The  workman  's  worthy  of  his  hire, 
'Tis  said.     There  comes  a  wealthy  squire, 
Who  hath  wherewith  thy  works  to  pay ; 
To  him  direct  thy  gifts,  and  they 
Shall  gain  their  proper  recompense. 

Urged  by  the  hope  of  gain, 

Upon  the  wealthy  citizen 
The  fool  repeated  the  offence. 
His  pay  this  time  was  not  in  gold. 
Upou  the  witless  man 

A  score  of  ready  footmen  ran, 
And  on  his  back,  in  full,  his  wages  told. 

In  courts,  such  fools  afflict  the  wise  , 
They  raise  the  laugh  at  your  expense. 
To  check  their  babble,  were  it  sense 

Their  folly  meetly  to  chastise  ? 

Perhaps  'twill  take  a  stronger  man. 

Then  make  them  worry  one  who  can. 


320  LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  ENGLISH  FOX. 


TO    MADAM    HARVEY. 


Sound  reason  and  a  tender  heart 
With  thee  are  friends  that  never  part. 
A  hundred  traits  might  swell  the  roll ;  — 
Suffice  to  name  thy  nobleness  of  soul , 
Thy  power  to  guide  both  men  and  things , 
Thy  temper  open,  bland  and  free, 
A  gift  that  draweth  friends  to  thee, 
To  which  thy  firm  affection  clings, 
Unmarred  by  age  or  change  of  clime, 
Or  tempests  of  this  stormy  time  ;  — 
All  which  deserve,  in  highest  lyric, 
A  rich  and  lofty  panegyric : 
But  no  such  thing  wouldst  thou  desire, 
Whom  pomp  displeases,  praises  tire. 
Hence  mine  is  simple,  short,  and  plain  , 
Yet,  madam,  I  would  fain 
Tack  on  a  word  or  two 
Of  homage  to  your  country  due,  — 
A  country  well  beloved  by  you. 

With  mind  to  match  the  outward  case, 
The  English  are  a  thinking  race. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  321 

They  pierce  all  subjects  through  and  through  ; 
Well  armed  with  facts,  they  hew  their  way, 
-And  give  to  science  boundless  sway. 
Quite  free  from  flattery,  I  say, 
Your  countrymen,  for  penetration, 
Must  bear  the  palm  from  every  nation  ; 
For  e'en  the  dogs  they  breed  excel 
Our  own  in  nicety  of  smell. 
Your  foxes,  too,  are  cunninger, 
As  readily  we  may  infer 
From  one  that  practised,  'tis  believed, 
A  stratagem  the  best  conceived. 
The  wretch,  once,  in  the  utmost  strait 
By  dogs  of  nose  so  delicate, 
Approached  a  gallows,  where, 
A  lesson  to  like  passengers, 
Or  clothed  in  feathers  or  in  furs, 
Some  badgers,  owls,  and  foxes,  pendent  were 
Their  comrade,  in  his  pressing  need, 
Arranged  himself  among  the  dead. 
I  seem  to  see  old  Hannibal. — v^~ 
Outwit  some  Roman  general, 
And  sit  securely  in  his  tent, 
The  legions  on  some  other  scent. 
But  certain  dogs,  kept  back 
To  tell  the  errors  of  the  pack, 
Arriving  where  the  traitor  hung, 
A  fault  in  fullest  chorus  sung. 
Though  by  their  bark  the  welkin  rung, 
Their  master  made  them  hold  the  tongue, 


322  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Suspecting  not  a  trick  so  odd. 
Said  he,  The  rogue's  beneath  the  sod. 
My  dogs,  that  never  saw  such  jokes, 
Won't  bark  beyond  these  honest  folks. 

The  rogue  would  try  the  frick  again. 
He  did  so  to  his  cost  and  pain. 
Again  with  dogs  the  welkin  rings  ; 
Again  our  fox  from  gallows  swings  ; 
But  though  he  hangs  with  greater  faith, 
This  time,  he  does  it  to  his  death. 

So  uniformly  is  it  true, 

A  stratagem  is  best  when  new.r 
The  hunter,  had  himself  been  hunted, 
So  apt  a  trick  had  not  invented  ; 
Not  that  his  wit  had  been  deficient ;  — 

With  that,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
Your  English  folks  are  well-provisioned  ;  - 
But  wanting  love  of  life  sufficient, 

Full  many  an  Englishman  has  died. 

One  word  to  you,  and  I  must  quit 
My  much-inviting  subject : 
A  long  eulogium  is  a  project 
For  which  my  lyre  is  all  unfit. 
The  song  or  verse  is  truly  rare, 
Which  can  its  meed  of  incense  bear, 
And  yet  amuse  the  general  ear, 
Or  wing  its  way  to  lands  afar. 
Your  prince  once  told  you,  I  have  heard, 
(An  able  judge,  as  rumor  says,) 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


323 


That  he  one  dash  of  love  preferred  ^v^ 
To  all  a  sheet  could  hold  of  praise. 
Accept  —  'tis  all  I  crave  —  the  offering 
Which  here  my  muse  has  dared  to  bring  — 
Her  last,  perhaps,  of  earthly  acts ; 
She  blushes  at  its  sad  defects. 
Still,  by  your  favor  of  my  rhyme, 
Might  not  the  self-same  homage  please,  the  while, 
The  dame  who  fills  your  northern  clime 
With  winged  emigrants  sublime 

From  Cytherea's  isle  ? 
By  this,  you  understand,  I  mean 
Love's  guardian  goddess,  Mazarin.-v 


324  LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  SUN   AND  THE  FROGS 

Long  from  the  monarch  of  the  stars 

The  daughters  of  the  mud  received 
Support  and  aid ;  nor  dearth  nor  wars, 

Meanwhile,  their  teeming  nation  grieved. 
They  spread  their  empire  far  and  wide 
Through  every  marsh,  by  every  tide. 
The  queens  of  swamps  —  I  mean  no  more 

Than  simply  frogs  (great  names  are  cheap)  - 
Caballed  together  on  the  shore, 

And  cursed  their  patron  from  the  deep, 
And  came  to  be  a  perfect  bore. 
Pride,  rashness,  and  ingratitude, 
The  progeny  of  fortune  good, 
Soon  brought  them  to  a  bitter  cry,  — 
The  end  of  sleep  for  earth  and  sky. 
Their  clamors,  if  they  did  not  craze, 
Would  truly  seem  enough  to  raise 
All  living  things  to  mutiny 
Against  the  power  of  Nature's  eye. 
The  sun,  according  to  their  croak, 
Was  turning:  all  the  world  to  smoke. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  325 

It  now  behoved  to  take  alarm. 

And  promptly  powerful  troops  to  arm. 

Forthwith  in  haste  they  sent 
Their  croaking  embassies : 

To  all  their  states  they  went, 
And  all  their  colonies. 

To  hear  them  talk,  the  all 
That  rides  upon  this  whirling  ball. 
Of  men  and  things,  was  left  at  stake 
Upon  the  mud  that  skirts  a  lake ! 
The  same  complaint,  in  fens  and  bogs, 

Still  ever  strains  their  lungs ; 
And  yet  these  much-complaining  frogs 

Had  better  hold  their  tongues ; 
For,  should  the  sun  in  anger  rise, 
And  hurl  his  vengeance  from  the  skies. 
That  kingless,  half  aquatic  crew 
Their  impudence  would  sorely  rue. 


THE  LEAGUE   OF   THE  RATS. 


A  mouse  was  once  in  mortal  fear 
Of  a  cat  that  watched  her  portal  near, 
What  could  be  done  in  such  a  case  ? 
With  prudent  care  she  left  the  catship, 
And  courted,  with  a  humble  grace, 
A  neighbor  of  a  higher  race, 
Whose  lordship  —  1  should  say,  his  ratship  - 
Lay  in  a  great  hotel : 
And  who  had  boasted  oft,  'tis  said, 
Of  living  wholly  without  dread. 
Well,  said  this  braggart,  well, 
Dame  Mouse,  what  should  I  do  ? 

Alone  I  cannot  rout 
The  foe  that  threatens  you. 
I'll  rally  all  the  rats  about, 
And  then  I'll  play  him  such  a  trick ! 
The  mouse  her  courtesy  dropped, 
And  off  the  hero  scampered  quick, 
Nor  till  he  reached  the  buttery  stopped, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  327 

Where  scores  of  rats  were  clustered, 

In  riotous  extravagance 
All  feasting  at  the  host's  expense. 
To  him,  arriving  there  much  flustered, 
Indeed,  quite  out  of  breath, 
A  rat  among  the  fe asters  saith, 
What  news  ?  what  news  ?     I  pray  you,  speak. 
The  rat,  recovering  breath  to  squeak, 
Replied,  To  tell  the  matter  in  a  trice, 
It  is,  that  we  must  promptly  aid  the  mice ; 
For  old  Raminagrab  is  making 
Among  their  ranks  a  dreadful  quaking. 
This  cat,  of  cats  the  very  devil, 
When  mice  are  gone,  will  do  us  evil. 
True,  true,  said  each  and  all ; 
To  arms  !  to  arms !  the  cry  and  call. 
Some  ratties  by  their  fears 
Were  melted  e'en  to  tears. 
It  mattered  not  a  whisk, 
Nor  checked  the  valor  brisK. 
Each  took  upon  his  back 
Some  cheese  in  haversack, 
And  roundly  swore  to  risk 
His  carcass  in  the  cause. 
They  marched  as  to  a  feast, 
Not  flinching  in  the  least,  — 
But  quite  too  late,  for  in  his  jaws 
The  cat  already  held  the  mouse. 
They  rapidly  approached  the  house  — 


328 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


To  save  their  friend,  beyond  a  doubt. 
Just  then  the  cat  came  growling  out, 
The  mouse  beneath  his  whiskered  nose, 
And  marched  along  before  his  foes. 
At  such  a  voice,  our  rats  discreet, 

Foreboding  a  defeat, 
Effected,  in  a  style  most  fleet, 

A  fortunate  retreat. 
Back  hurried  to  his  hole  each  rat, 
And  afterwards  took  care  to  shun  the  cat. 


A^A\  a/ 

A- A.  AA'A; 


V4H3&I9    ??ltR3?£o 


THE   COMPANIONS   OF   ULYSSES. 


TO    MONSKIGNEUR    THE    DUKE    DE    BOURGOGNE. 


ear  prince,  a  special  favorite  of  the  skies, 
I  Pray  let  my  incense  from  your  altars  rise : 
With  these  her  gifts  if  rather  late  my  muse, 
My  age  and  labors  must  her  fault  excuse. 
My  spirit  wanes,  while  yours  beams  on  the  si; 
At  every  moment  with  augmented  light : 
It  does  not  go,  —  it  runs,  —  it  seems  to  fly  ; 
And  he  from  whom  it  draws  its  traits  so  Wis) 


330  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

[n  war  a  hero,  burns  to  do  the  same. 
No  lack  of  his  that,  with  victorious  force, 
His  giant  strides  mark  not  his  glory's  course  : 
Some  god  retains:  our  sovereign  I  might  name ; 
Himself  no  less  than  conqueror  divine, 
Whom  one  short  month  made  master  of  the  Rhine 
ft  needed  then  upon  the  foe  to  dash  ; 
Perhaps,  to-day,  such  generalship  were  rash. 
But  hush,  —  they  say  the  Loves  and  Smiles 
Abhoi  a  speech  spun  out  in  miles ; 

And  of  such  deities  your  court 
Is  constantly  composed,  in  short. 
Not  but  that  other  gods,  as  meet, 
There  hold  the  highest  seat ; 
For,  free  and  lawless  as  the  rest  may  seem, 
Good  Sense  and  Reason  bear  a  sway  supreme. 
Consult  these  last  about  the  case 
Of  certain  men  of  Grecian  race, 
Who,  most  unwise  and  indiscreet, 
Imbibed  such  draughts  of  poison  sweet 
As  changed  their  form  and  brutified. 
Fen  years  the  heroes  at  Ulysses'  side 

Had  been  the  sport  of  wind  and  tide. 
At  last  those  powers  of  wTater 
The  sea-worn  wanderers  bore 
To  that  enchanted  shore 
Where  Circe  reigned,  Apollo's  daughter. 

She  pressed  upon  their  thirsty  lips 
Delicious  drink,  but  full  of  bane  : 

Their  reason,  at  the  first  light  sips. 
Laid  down  the  sceptre  of  its  reign. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  331 

Then  took  their  forms  and  features 
/The  lineaments  of  various  creatures. 
/       To  bears  and  lions  some  did  pass, 
Or  elephants,  of  ponderous  mass  ; 
While  not  a  few,  I  ween, 
In  smaller  forms  were  seen,  — 
In  such,  for  instance,  as  the  mole. 
Of  all,  the  sage  Ulysses  sole 
Had  wit  to  shun  that  treacherous  bowl. 
With  wisdom,  and  heroic  mien, 
And  fine  address,  he  caused  the  queen 
To  swallow,  on  her  wizard  throne, 
A  poison  somewhat  like  her  own. 
A  goddess,  she  to  speak  her  wishes  dared, 
And  hence,  at  once,  her  love  declared. 
Ulysses,  truly  too  judicious 
To  lose  a  moment  so  propitious, 
Besought  that  Circe  would  restore 
His  Greeks  the  shapes  that  first  they  wore. 
Replied  the  nymph,  But  will  they  take  them  back  ? 
Go  make  the  proffer  to  the  motley  pack. 

Ulysses  ran,  both  glad  and  sure  : 
That  poisonous  cup,  cried  he,  hath  yet  its  cure ; 
And  here  I  bring  what  ends  your  shame  and  pain. 
Will  you,  dear  friends,  be  men  again  ? 
Pray  speak,  for  speech  is  now  restored. 
,,No,  said  the  lion,  —  and  he  roared, — 
My  head  is  not  so  void  of  brains  ! 
Renounce  shall  I  my  royal  gains  ? 
I've  claws  and  teeth,  to  tear  my  foes  to  bits, 


332  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And  more  than  that,  I'm  king. 
Am  I  such  gifts  away  to  fling, 
To  be  but  one  of  Ithaca's  mere  cits  ? 
Jn  rank  and  file  perhaps  1  might  bear  arms. 
In  such  a  change  I  see  no  charms.  — 
Ulysses  passes  to  the  bear  :  — 
How  changed,  my  friend,  from  what  you  were  ! 
How  sightly  once,  how  ugly  now ! 
Humph  !  truly,  how  ?  — 
/    N  Growled  Bruin,  in  his  way  — 
How  else  than  as  a  bear  should  be,  1  pray  ? 
Who  taught  your  stilted  highness  to  prefer 
One  form  to  every  other,  sir  ? 
Doth  yours  possess  peculiar  poweis 
The  merits  to  decide,  of  ours  ? 
With  all  respect,  I  shall  appeal  my  case 
To  some  sweet  beauty  of  the  bearish  race. 
Please  pass  it  by,  if  you  dislike  my  face. 
I  live  content  and  free  from  care ; 
And,  well  remembering  what  we  were, 

I  say  it,  plain  and  flat, 
I'll  change  to  no  such  state  as  that. 
Next  to  the  wolf  the  princely  Greek 
With  flattering  hope  began  to  speak :  — 
Comrade,  I  blush,  I  must  confess, 
To  hear  a  gentle  shepherdess 

Complaining  to  the  echoing  rocks 
Of  that  outrageous  appetite 

Which  drives  you,  night  by  night, 
To  prey  upon  her  flocks. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  333 

You  had  been  proud  to  guard  her  fold 
In  your  more  honest  life  of  old. 
Pray  quit  this  wolfs  hip,  now  you  can, 
And  leave  the  woods  an  honest  man. 
But  is  there  one  ?    the  wolf  replied  : 
Such  man,  1  own,  I  never  spied. 
You  treat  me  as  a  ravenous  beast, 
But  what  are  you  ?     To  say  the  least, 
You  would  yourself  have  eat  the  sheep, 
Which,  eat  by  me,  the  village  weep. 
Now,  truly  on  your  faith  confess, 
^--"NShould  I,  as  man,  love  flesh  the  less  t 

Why,  man,  not  seldom,  kills  his  very  brother ;  -- 

What,  then,  are  you  but  wolves  to  one  another  ? 
Now,  every  thing  with  care  to  scan, 
And  rogue  with  rogue  to  rate, 

/--I'd  better  be  a  wolf  than  man, 

And  need  not  change  my  state. 
Thus  all  did  wise  Ulysses  try, 
And  got  from  all  the  same  reply, 

As  well  from  great  as  small. 
Wild  liberty  was  dear  to  all ; 
To  follow  lawless  appetite 
They  counted  their  supreme  delight. 
All  banished  from  their  thought  and  care 
The  glorious  praise  of  actions  fair. 
Where  passion  led, they  thought  their  course  was  free, 

Self-bound,  their  chains  they  could  not  see. 

Prince,  1  had  wished  for  you  a  theme  to  choose, 
Where  I  might  mingle  pleasantry  with  use ; 


334  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  I  should  meet  with  your  approving  voice, 
No  doubt,  if  I  could  make  such  choice. 

At  last,  Ulysses'  crew 

Were  offered  to  my  view. 
And  there  are  like  them  not  a  few, 
Who  may  for  penalty  await 

Your  censure  and  your  hate. 


THE  CARTER  IN   THE  MIRE. 


^Xi 


-The  Phaeton  who  drove  a  load  of  hay 

Once  found  his  cart  bemired. 
Poor  man  !  the  spot  was  far  away 

From  human  help  —  retired, 
In  some  rude  country  place, 
In  Brittany,  as  near  as  I  can  trace, 

Near  Quimper  Corentin,  — 

A  town  that  poet  never  sang,  — 
Which  Fate,  they  say,  puts  in  the  traveller's  path, 
When  she  would  rouse  the  man  to  special  wrath. 
May  Heaven  preserve  us  from  that  route  ! 
But  to  our  carter,  hale  and  stout :  — 
Fast  stuck  his  cart ;  he  swore  his  worst, 

And,  filled  with  rage  extreme, 
The  mud-holes  now  he  cursed, 

And  now  he  cursed  his  team, 
And  now  his  cart  and  load, — 
Anon,  the  like  upon  himself  bestowed. 
Upon  the  god  he  called,  at  length, 
Most  famous  through  the  world  for  strength. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  335 

O,  help  me,  Hercules!  cried  he; 
For  if  thy  back  of  yore 
This  burly  planet  bore, 
Thy  arm  can  set  me  free. 
This  prayer  gone  up,  from  out  a  cloud  there  broke 
A  voice  which  thus  in  godlike  accents  spoke :  — 
The  suppliant  must  himself  bestir,— n 
Ere  Hercules  will  aid  confer. 
Look  wisely  in  the  proper  quarter, 

To  see  what  hindrance  can  be  found ; 
Remove  the  execrable  mud  and  mortar, 
Which,  axle-deep,  besets  thy  wheels  around. 
Thy  sledge  and  crowbar  take, 
And  pry  me  up  that  stone,  or  break  ; 
Now  fill  that  rut  upon  the  other  side. 
Hast  done  it  ?     Yes,  the  man  replied. 
Well,  said  the  voice,  I'll  aid  thee  now ; 
Take  up  thy  whip.     I  have.  ...but,  how  ? 
My  cart  glides  on  with  ease ! 
I  thank  thee,  Hercules. 
Thy  team,  rejoined  the  voice,  has  light  ado  ; 
So  help  thyself,  and  Heaven  will  help  tfeee  too 


336  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


DAPHNIS   AND  ALCIMADURE. 

AN    IMITATION    OF    THEOCRITUS. 
TO    MADAM    DE    LA    MESANGERE. 

Offspring  of  her  to  whom,  to-day, 
While  from  thy  lovely  self  away, 
A  thousand  hearts  their  homage  pay,* 
Besides  the  throngs  whom  friendship  binds  to  please, 
And  some  whom  love  presents  thee  on  their  knees  ! 
A  mandate  which  I  cannot  thrust  aside 
Between  you  both  impels  me  to  divide 
Some  of  the  incense  which  the  dews  distil 
Upon  the  roses  of  a  sacred  hill, 
And  which,  by  secret  of  my  trade, 
Is  sweet  and  most  delicious  made. 
To  you  I  say, ....  but  all  to  say 
Would  task  me  far  beyond  my  day ; 
I  need  judiciously  to  choose  ; 
Thus  husbanding  my  voice  and  muse, 


*  Madam    de    la    Mesangere  was    the  daughtrr    o*"  Madam  dc  la 
Sablier* 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  337 

Whose  strength  and  leisure  soon  will  fail. 
I'll  only  praise  your  tender  heart,  and  hale, 
Exalted  feelings,  wit,  and  grace, 
In  which  there's  none  can  claim  a  higher  place, 
Excepting  her  whose  praise  is  your  entail. 
Let  not  too  many  thorns  forbid  to  touch 
These  roses  —  I  may  call  them  such  — 
If  Love  should  ever  say  as  much. 
By  him  it  will  be  better  said,  indeed ; 
And  them  who  his  advices  will  not  heed, 
Scourge  fearfully  will  he, 
As  you  shall  shortly  see. 

A  blooming  miracle  of  yore 

Despised  his  godship's  sovereign  power ; 

They  called  her  name  Alcimadure. 

A  haughty  creature,  fierce  and  wild, 

She  sported,  Nature's  tameless  child. 

Rough  paths  her  wayward  feet  would  lead 

To  darkest  glens  of  mossy  trees ; 
Or  she  would  dance  on  daisied  mead, 

With  nought  of  law  but  her  caprice. 
A  fairer  could  not  be, 
Nor  crueler,  than  she. 
Still  charming  in  her  sternest  mien,  — 

E'en  when  her  haughty  look  debarred,—- 
What  had  she  been  to  lover,  in 

The  fortress  of  her  kind  regard ! 
Daphnis,  a  high-born  shepherd  swain, 
Had  loved  this  maiden  to  his  bane. 


338  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Not  one  regardful  look  or  smile, 
Nor  e'en  a  gracious  word,  the  while, 
Relieved  the  fierceness  of  his  pain. 
Overwearied  with  a  suit  so  vain, 
His  hope  was  but  to  die  ; 
No  power  had  he  to  fly. 
He  sought,  impelled  by  dark  despair, 
The  portals  of  the  cruel  fair. 
\las  !  the  winds  his  only  listeners  were ! 
The  mistress  gave  no  entrance  there  — 
No  entrance  to  the  palace  where, 
Ingrate,  against  her  natal  day, 
She  joined  the  treasures  sweet  and  gay 
In  garden  or  in  Avild-wrood  grown, 
To  blooming  beauty  all  her  own. 

I  hoped,  he  cried, 
Before  your  eyes  I  should  have  died ; 
But,  ah !  too  deeply  I  have  Avon  your  hate  ; 
Nor  should  it  be  surprising  news 
To  me,  that  you  should  now  refuse 

To  lighten  thus  my  cruel  fate. 
My  sire,  when  I  shall  be  no  more, 
Is  charged  to  lay  your  feet  before 
The  heritage  your  heart  neglected. 
With  this  my  pasturage  shall  be  connected, 
My  trusty  dog,  and  all  that  he  protected  ; 
And,  of  my  goods  Avhich  then  remain, 
My  mourning  friends  shall  rear  a  fane. 
There  shall  your  image  stand,  midst  rosy  bowers. 
Reviving  through  the  ceaseless  hours 
An  altar  built  of  living  flowers. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  339 

Near  by,  my  simple  monument 
^-    Shall  this  short  epitaph  oresent : 
A  Here  Daphnis  died  of  love.     Stop,  passenger, 
And  say  thou,  with  a  falling  tear, 
This  youth  here  fell,  unable  to  endure 
The  ban  of  proud  Alcimadure." 

He  would  have  added,  but  his  heart 
Now  felt  the  last,  the  fatal  dart. 
Forth  marched  the  maid,  in  triumph  decked, 
And  of  his  murder  little  recked. 
In  vain  her  steps  her  own  attendants  checked, 
And  plead 
That  she,  at  least,  should  shed, 
Upon  her  lover  dead, 

Some  tears  of  due  respect. 
The  rosy  god,  of  Cytherea  born, 
She  ever  treated  with  the  deepest  scorn : 
Contemning  him,  his  laws,  and  means  of  damage, 
She  drew  her  train  to  dance  around  his  image, 
When,  woful  to  relate, 
The  statue  fell,  and  crushed  her  with  its  weight ! 
A  voice  forth  issued  from  a  cloud,  — 
And  echo  bore  the  words  aloud 

Throughout  the  air  wide  spread, — 
"  Let  all  now  love  —  the  insensible  is  dead." 
Meanwhile,  down  to  the  Stygian  tide 

The  shade  of  Daphnis  hied, 
And  quaked  and  wondered  there  to  meet 
The  maid,  a  ghostess,  at  his  feet. 


340  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

All  Erebus  awakened  wide, 
To  hear  that  beauteous  homicide 
Beg  pardon  of  the  swain  who  died, 
For  being  deaf  to  love  confessed, 
As  was  Ulysses  to  the  prayer 
Of  Ajax,  begging  him  to  spare. 
Or  as  was  Dido's  faithless  guest. 


THE  ASS   DRESSED  IN   THE  LION'S  SKIN. 

Clad  in  a  lion's  shaggy  hide, 
An  ass  spread  terror  far  and  wide, 
And,  though  himself  a  coward  brute, 
Put  all  the  world  to  scampering  rout ; 

But,  by  a  piece  of  evil  luck, 

A  portion  of  an  ear  outstuck, 

Which  soon  revealed  the  error 

Of  all  the  panic-terror. 
Old  Martin  did  his  office  quick. 
Surprised  were  all  who  did  not  know  the  trick. 

To  see  that  Martin,  at  his  will, 

Was  driving  lions  to  the  mill ! 

In  France,  the  men  are  not  a  few 
Of  whom  this  fable  proves  too  true  ; 
Whose  valor  chiefly  doth  reside 
In  coat  they  wear  and  horse  they  ride. 


■* 


THE  RAVEN  AND  THE  FOX.' 


Perched  on  a  lofty  oak, 
Sir  Raven  held  a  lunch  of  cheese  ; 
Sir  Fox,  who  smelt  it  in  the  breeze, 

Thus  to  the  holder  spoke  :  — 
Ha !  how  do  you  do,  Sir  Raven  ? 
Well,' your  coat,  sir,  is  a  brave  one! 
So  black  and  glossy,  on  my  word,  sir, 
With  voice  to  match,  you  were  a  bird,  sir, 
Well  fit  to  be  the  Phoenix  of  these  days. 
Sir  Raven,  overset  with  praise, 
Must  show  how  musical  his  croak. 
Down  fell  the  luncheon  from  the  oak  ; 
Which  snatching  up,  Sir  Fox  thus  spoke  .  - 
The  flatterer,  my  good  sir, 
Aye  liveth  on  his  listener ; 
Which  lesson,  if  you  please, 
Is  doubtless  worth  the  cheese. 
A  bit  too  late,  Sir  Raven  swore 
The  rogue  should  nevei  cheat  him  more. 


THE  TWO  MULES. 


Two  mules  were  bearing  on  their  backs, 
One,  oats  ;  the  other,  silver  of  the  tax. 
The  latter,  glorying  in  his  load. 
Marched  proudly  forward  on  the  road  ; 
And,  from  the  jingle  of  his  bell, 
'Twas  plain  he  liked  his  burden  well. 
But  in  a  wild-wood  glen        • 
A  band  of  robber  men 
Rushed  forth  upon  the  twain. 

Well  with  the  silver  pleased, 
The)7  by  the  bridle  seized 
The  treasure-mule  so  vain. 
Poor  mule  !  in  struggling  to  repel 
His  ruthless  foes,  he  fell 
Stabbed  through ;  and,  with  a  bitter  sighing, 
He  cried,  Is  this  the  lot  they  promised  me  ? 
My  humble  friend  from  danger  free, 
While,  weltering  in  my  gore,  I'm  dying? 

My  friend,  his  fellow-mule  replied, 
It  is  not  well  to  have  one's  work  too  high. 
[f  thou  hadst  been  a  miller's  drudge,  as  I, 
Thou  wouldst  not  thus  have  died. 


THE  SWALLOW  AND  THE  LITTLE   BIRD& 

By  voyages  in  air, 
With  constant  thought  and  care, 
Much  knowledge  had  a  swallow  gained, 
Which  she  for  public  use  retained. 
The  slightest  storms  she  well  foreknew, 
And  told  the  sailors,  ere  they  blew. 
A  farmer  sowing  hemp  once  having  found, 
She  gathered  all  the  little  birds  around, 
And  said,  My  friends,  the  freedom  let  me  take 
To  prophesy  a  little,  for  your  sake, 
Against  this  dangerous  seed. 
Though  such  a  bird  as  I 
Knows  how  to  hide  or  fly, 
You  birds  a  caution  need. 
See  you  that  waving  hand  ? 
It  scatters  on  the  land 
Wliat  well  may  cause  alarm. 
'Twill  grow  to  nets  and  snares, 
To  catch  you  unawares, 
And  work  you  fatal  harm  ! 


344  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Great  multitudes,  I  fear, 
Of  you,  my  birdies  dear, 
That  falling  seed,  so  little, 
Will  bring  to  cage  or  kettle ! 
But  though  so  perilous  the  plot, 
You  now  may  easily  defeat  it ; 

All  lighting  on  the  seeded  spot, 
Just  scratch  up  every  seed  and  eat  it. 
The  little  birds  took  little  heed, 
So  fed  were  they  with  other  seed. 
Anon  the  field  was  seen 
Bedecked  in  tender  green. 
The  swallow's  warning  voice  was  heard  again ; 
My  friends,  the  product  of  that  deadly  grain, 
Seize  now,  and  pull  it  root  by  root, 
Or  surely  you'll  repent  its  fruit. 
False,  babbling  prophetess,  says  one, 
You'd  set  us  at  some  pretty  fun  ; 
To  pull  this  field  a  thousand  birds  are  needed, 
While  thousands  more  with  hemp  are  seeded. 

The  crop  now  quite  mature, 
The  swallow  adds,  Thus  far  I've  failed  of  cure; 
I've  prophesied  in  vain 
Against  this  fatal  grain  :  — 
It's  grown.     And  now,  my  bonny  birds, 
Though  you  have  disbelieved  my  words 
Thus  far,  take  heed,  at  last,  — 
When  you  shall  see  the  seed  time  past, 
And  men,  no  crops  to  labor  for, 
On  birds  shall  wage  their  cruel  war, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  345 

With  deadly  net  and  noose  ; 
Of  flying  then  beware, 
Unless  you  take  the  air, 
Like  woodcock,  crane,  or  goose. 
But  stop ;  you're  not  in  plight 
For  such  adventurous  flight, 
O'er  desert  waves  and  sands, 
In  search  of  other  lands. 
Hence,  then,  to  save  your  precious  souls, 
Remaineth  but  to  say, 
'Twill  be  the  safest  way 
To  chuck  yourselves  in  holes. 
Before  she  had  thus  far  gone, 
The  birdlings,  tired  of  hearing, 
And  laughing  more  than  fearing, 
Set  up  a  greater  jargon 
Than  did;  before  the  Trojan  slaughter. 
The  Trojans  round  old  Priam's  daughter. 
And  many  .a  bird,  in  prison  grate, 
Lamented  soon  a  Trojan  fate. 

'Tis  thus  we  heed  no  instincts  but  our  own  ; 
Believe  no  evil,  till  the  evil's  done. 


346  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

THE  CITY  RAT   AND  THE  COUNTRY   RAT. 

A  city  rat,  one  night, 

Did  with  a  civil  stoop 
A  country  rat  invite 

To  end  a  turtle  soup. 

Upon  a  Turkey  carpet 

They  found  the  table  spread, 

And  sure  1  need  not  harp  it 
How  well  the  fellows  fed. 

The  entertainment  was 

A  truly  noble  one  ; 
But  some  unlucky  cause 

Disturbed  it  when  begun. 

It  was  a  slight  rat-tat, 

That  put  their  joys  to  rout ; 

Out  ran  the  city  rat ; 

His  guest,  too,  scampered  out. 

Our  rats  but  fairly  quit, 

The  fearful  knocking  ceased. 

Return  we,  cried  the  cit, 
To  finish  there  our  feast. 

No,  said  the  rustic  rat ; 

To-morrow  dine  with  me. 
I'm  not  offended  at 

Your  feast  so  grand  and  free, — 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  347 


THE   WOLF  AND  THE  LAMB. 


That  innocence  is  not  a  shield, 
A  story  teaches,  not  the  longest. 

The  strongest  reasons  always  yield 
To  reasons  of  the  strongest. 

A  lamb  her  thirst  was  slaking 

Once  at  a  mountain  rill. 
A  hungry  wolf  was  taking 
His  hunt  for  sheep  to  kill, 
When,  spying  on  the  streamlet's  brink 
This  sheep  of  tender  age, 
He  howled  in  tones  of  rage, 
How  dare  you  roil  my  drink  ? 
Your  impudence  1  shall  chastise ! 
Let  not  your  majesty,  the  lamb  replies,    . 

Decide  in  haste  or  passion; 
For,  sure,  'tis  difficult  to  think 
In  what  respect  or  fashion 
My  drinking  here  could  roil  your  drink, 
For  I've  no  fare  resembling ; 
But  then  I  eat  at  leisure, 
And  would  not  swap  for  pleasure 
So  mixed  with  fear  and  trembling. 


348  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Since  on  the  stream  your  majesty  now  faces 
I'm  lower  down,  full  twenty  paces. 

You  roil  it,  said  the  wolf;  and,  more,  I  know 
You  cursed  and  slandered  me,  a  year  ago. 
0'  no  !    how  could  I  such  a  thing  have  done  i  — 
A  lamb  that  has  not  seen  a  year, 
A  suckling  of  its  mother  dear  ? 
Your  brother  then.     But  brother  1  have  none. 
Well,  well,  what's  all  the  same, 
'Twas  some  one  of  your  name. 
Sheep,  men,  and  dogs,  of  every  nation, 
Are  wont  to  stab  my  reputation, 
As  I  have  truly  heard. 
Without  another  word, 
He  made  his  vengeance  good,  — 
Bore  off  the  lambkin  to  the  wood, 
And  there,  without  a  jury, 
Judged,  slew,  and  ate  her  in  his  fury. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  34Q 


THE  MAN  AND  HIS  IMAGE. 

TO    M.    THE    DUKE    DE    LA    ROCHEFOUCAULD. 

A  man,  who  had  no  rivals  in  the  love 

Which  to  himself  he  bore, 
Esteemed  his  own  dear  beauty  far  above 

What  earth  had  seen  before. 
More  than  contented  in  his  error, 
He  lived  the  foe  of  every  mirror. 
Officious  fate,  resolved  our  lover 
From  such  an  illness  should  recover, 
Presented  always  to  his  eyes 
The  mute  advisers  which  the  ladies  prize ; 
Mirrors  in  parlors,  inns,  and  shops,  — 
Mirrors  the  pocket  furniture  of  fops,  — 
Mirrors  on  every  lady's  zone, 
From  which  his  face  reflected  shone. 
What  could  our  dear  Narcissus  do  ? 
From  haunts  of  men  he  now  withdrew, 
On  purpose  that  his  precious  shape 
From  every  mirror  might  escape. 
But  in  his  forest  glen  alone, 

Apart  from  human  trace, 


350  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

A  watercourse, 

Of  purest  source, 
While  with  unconscious  gaze 
He  pierced  its  waveless  face, 

Reflected  back  his  own. 
Incensed  with  mingled  rage  and  fright, 
He  seeks  to  shun  the  odious  sight ; 
But  yet  that  mirror  sheet,  so  clear  and  still, 
He  cannot  leave,  do  what  he  will. 

Ere  this,  my  story's  drift  you  plainly  see. 
From  such  mistake  there  is  no  mortal  free. 
That  obstinate  self-lover 
The  human  soul  doth  cover ; 
The  mirrors  follies  are  of  others, 
In  which,  as  all  are  genuine  brothers, 
Each  soul  may  see  to  life  depicted 
Itself  with  just  such  faults  afflicted  ; 
And  by  that  charming,  placid  brook, 
Needless  to  say,  1  mean  your  Maxim  Book 


THE  DRAGON  WITH  MANY  HEADS,  AND  THE 
DRAGON  WITH  MANY  TAILS. 


An  envoy  of  the  Porte  Sublime, 
As  history  says,  once  on  a  time, 
Before  th'  imperial  German  court 
Did  rather  boastfully  report 
The  troops  commanded  by  his  master's  firman, 
As  being  a  stronger  army  than  the  German : 
To  which  replied  a  Dutch  attendant, 
Our  prince  has  more  than  one  dependant 
Who  keeps  an  army  at  his  own  expense. 
The  Turk,  a  man  of  sense, 
Rejoined,  I  am  aware 
What  power  your  emperor's  servants  share. 
It  brings  to  mind  a  tale  both  strange  and  true, 
A  thing  which  once,  myself,  I  chanced  to  view. 
I  saw  come  darting  through  a  hedge, 
Which  fortified  a  rocky  ledge, 
A  hydra's  hundred  heads  ;  and  in  a  trice 
My  blood  was  turning  into  ice. 
But  less  the  harm  than  terror,  — 
The  body  came  no  nearer  ', 


352  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Nor  could,  unless  it  had  been  sundered 

To  parts  at  least  a  hundred. 

While  deeply  musing  on  this  sight, 

Another  dragon  came  to  light, 

Whose  single  head  avails 

To  lead  a  hundred  tails  ; 
And,  seized  with  juster  fright, 

I  saw  him  pass  the  hedge,  — 

Head,  body,  tails,  —  a  wedge 
Of  living  and  resistless  powers.  — 
The  other  was  your  emperor's  force ;  this  ours. 


SIM0N1DES  PRESERVED  BY  THE  GODS. 

Three  sorts  there  are,  as  Malherbe  says, 
Which  one  can  never  overpraise  — 
The  gods,  the  ladies,  and  the  king  ; 
And  I,  for  one,  endorse  the  thing. 
The  heart,  praise  tickles  and  entices ; 
Of  fair  one's  smile,  it  oft  the  price  is. 
See  how  the  gods  sometimes  repay  it. 
Simonides  —  the  ancients  say  it  — 
Once  undertook,  in  poem  lyric, 
To  write  a  wrestler's  panegyric ; 
Which  ere  he  had  proceeded  far  in, 
He  found  his  subject  somewhat  barren. 
No  ancestors  of  great  renown, 
His  sire  of  some  unnoted  towm, 
Himself  as  little  known  to  fame, 
The  wrestler's  praise  was  rather  tame. 
The  poet,  having  made  the  most  of 
Whate'er  his  hero  had  to  fyoast  of, 
Digressed,  by  choice  that  was  not  all  luck's, 
To  Castor  and  his  brother  Pollux  ; 
Whose  bright  career  was  subject  ample, 
For  wrestlers,  sure,  a  good  example. 
Our  poet  fattened  on  their  story, 
Gave  every  tight  its  place  and  glory, 


354  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES, 

Till  of  his  panegyric  words 
These  deities  had  got  two  thirds. 

All  done,  the  poet's  fee 

A  talent  was  to  be. 
But  when  he  comes  his  bill  to  settle, 
The  wrestler,  with  a  spice  of  mettle, 
Pays  down  a  third,  and  tells  the  poet, 
The  balance  they  may  pay  who  owe  it. 
The  gods  than  I  are  rather  debtors 
To  such  a  pious  man  of  letters. 
But  still  I  shall  be  greatly  pleased 
To  have  your  presence  at  my  feast, 
Among  a  knot  of  guests  select, 
My  kin,  and  friends  I  most  respect. 
More  fond  of  character  than  coffer, 
Simonides  accepts  the  offer. 
While  at  the  feast  the  party  sit, 
And  wine  provokes  the  flow  of  wit, 
It  is  announced  that  at  the  gate 
Two  men,  in  haste  that  cannot  wait, 
Would  see  the  bard.     He  leaves  the  table, 
No  loss  at  all  to'ts  noisy  gabble. 
The  men  were  Leda's  twins,  who  knew 
What  to  a  poet's  praise  was  due, 
And,  thanking,  paid  him  by  foretelling 
The  downfall  of  the  wrestler's  dwelling. 
From  which  ill-fated  pile,  indeed. 
No  sooner  was  the  poet  freed, 
Than,  props  and  pillars  failing, 
Which  held  aloft  the  ceiling 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  355 

So  splendid  o'er  them, 
It  downward  loudly  crashed, 
The  plates  and  flagons  dashed, 
And  men  who  bore  them ; 
And,  what  was  worse, 
Full  vengeance  for  the  man  of  verse, 
A  timber  broke  the  wrestler's  thighs, 
And  wounded  many  otherwise. 
The  gossip  Fame,  of  course,  took  care 
Abroad  to  publish  this  affair. 
A  miracle  !  the  public  cried,  delighted. 
No  more  could  god-beloved  bard  be  slighted. 
His  verse  now  brought  him  more  than  double, 
With  neither  duns,  nor  care,  nor  trouble. 
Whoe'er  laid  claim  to  noble  birth 
Must  buy  his  ancestors  a  slice, 
Resolved  no  nobleman  on  earth 

Should  overgo  him  in  the  price. 
From  which  these  serious  lessons  flow :  — 
Fail  not  your  praises  to  bestow 
On  gods  and  godlike  men.     Again, 
To  sell  the  product  of  her  pain 
Is  not  degrading  to  the  muse. 
Indeed,  her  art  they  do  abuse, 
Who  think  her  wares  to  use, 
And  yet  a  liberal  pay  refuse. 
Whate'er  the  great  confer  upon  her, 
They're  honored  by  it  while  they  honor. 
Of  old,  Olympus  and  Parnassus 
In  friendship  heaved  their  sky-crowned  masses. 


THE  THIEVES  AND  THE  ASS. 

Two  thieves,  pursuing  their  profession, 

Had  of  a  donkey  got  possession, 
Whereon  a  strife  arose, 
Which  went  from  words  to  blows. 

The  question  was,  to  sell  or  not  to  sell ; 

But  while  our  sturdy  champions  fought  it  well, 
Another  thief,  who  chanced  to  pass, 
With  ready  wit,  rode  off  the  ass. 

This  ass  is,  by  interpretation, 
Some  province  poor,  or  prostrate  nation, 
The  thieves  are  princes  this  and  that, 
On  spoils  and  plunder  prone  to  fat,  — 
As  those  of  Austria,  Turkey,  Hungary. 
(Instead  of  two,  I've  quoted  three  — 
Enough  of  such  commodity.) 
These  powers  engaged  in  war  all, 
Some  fourth  thief  stops  the  quarrel, 

According  all  to  one  key 

By  riding  off  the  donkey. 


DEATH   AND   THE   UNFORTUNATE. 

A  poor  unfortunate,  from  day  to  day, 
Called  Death  to  take  him  from  this  world  away, 
O  Death,  he  said,  to  me  how  fair  thy  form  ! 
Come  quick,  and  end  for  me  life's  cruel  storm. 
Death  heard,  and,  with  a  ghastly  grin, 
Knocked  at  his  door,  and  entered  in. 
With  horror  shivering,  and  affright, 
Take  out  this  object  from  my  sight, 

The  poor  man  loudly  cried  ; 
Its  dreadful  looks  I  can't  abide ; 
O  stay  him,  stay  him  ;  let  him  come  no  nigher ; 
O  Death  !    O  Death  !    I  pray  thee  to  retire. 

A  gentleman  of  note 
In  Rome,  Maecenas,  somewhere  wrote  :  — 
Make  me  the  poorest  WTetch  that  begs, 
Sore,  hungry,  crippled,  clothed  in  rags, 
In  hopeless  impotence  of  arms  and  legs  ; 
Provided,  after  all,  you  give 
The  one  sweet  liberty  to  live, 
I'll  ask  of  Death  no  greater  favor 
Than  just  to  stay  away  forever. 


DEATH   AND  THE  WOODMAN. 

A  poor  wood-chopper,  with  his  fagot  load, 
Whom  weight  of  years,  as  well  as  load,  oppressed, 
Sore  groaning  in  his  smoky  hut  to  rest, 
Trudged  wearily  along  his  homeward  road. 
At  last  his  wood  upon  the  ground  he  throws, 
And  sits  him  down  to  think  o'er  all  his  woes. 
To  joy  a  stranger,  since  his  hapless  birth, 
What  poorer  wretch  upon  this  rolling  earth  ? 
No  bread  sometimes,  and  ne'er  a  moment's  rest ; 
Wife,  children,  soldiers,  landlords,  public  tax, 
All  wait  the  swinging  of  his  old,  worn  axe, 
And  paint  the  veriest  picture  of  a  man  unblest. 
On  Death  he  calls.     Forthwith  that  monarch  grim 
Appears,  and  asks  what  he  should  do  for  him. 
Not  much,  indeed ;  a  little  help  I  lack 
To  put  these  fagots  on  my  back. 

Death  ready  stands  all  ills  to  cure, 

But  let  us  not  his  cure  invite. 
Than  die,  'tis  better  to  endure, — 

Is  both  a  manly  maxim  and  a  right. 


THE  MAN   BETWEEN  TWO   AGES,   AND  HiS  TWO 
MISTRESSES. 

A  man  of  middle  age,  whose  hair 

Was  bordering  on  the  gray, 
Began  to  turn  his  thoughts  and  care 

The  matrimonial  way. 

By  virtue  of  his  ready, 

A  store  of  choices  had  he 
Of  ladies  bent  to  suit  his  taste  ; 
On  which  account  he  made  no  haste. 
To  court  well  was  no  trifling  art. 
Two  widows  chiefly  gained  his  heart ; 
The  one  yet  green,  the  other  more  mature, 
Who  found  for  nature's  wane  in  art  a  cure. 
These  dames,  amidst  their  joking  and  caressing 

The  man  they  longed  to  wed, 
Would  sometimes  set  themselves  to  dressing 

His  party-colored  head. 

Each  aiming  to  assimilate 

Her  lover  to  her  own  estate, 

The  older  piecemeal  stole 

The  black  hair  from  his  poll. 


360 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


While  eke,  with  fingers  light, 

The  young  one  stole  the  white. 
Between  them  both,  as  if  by  scald, 
His  head  was  changed  from  gray  to  bald. 
For  these,  he  said,  your  gentle  pranks, 
I  owe  you,  ladies,  many  thanks. 

By  being  thus  well  shaved, 

I  less  have  lost  than  saved. 

Of  Hymen,  yet,  no  news  at  hand, 
1  do  assure  ye. 

By  what  I've  lost,  I  understand 
It  is  in  your  way, 

Not  mine,  that  I  must  pass  on. 

Thanks,  ladies,  for  the  lesson. 


THE    FOX    AND    THE    STORK. 


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  saj', 

Requiring  knife  and  fork. 
That  sly  old  gentleman,  the  dinner-giver, 
Was,  you  must  understand,  a  frugal  liver. 
This  once,  at  least,  the  total  matter 
Was  thinnish  soup  served  on  a  platter, 
For  madam's  slender  beak  a  fruitless  puzzle, 
Till  all  had  passed  the  fox's  lapping  muzzle. 
But  little  relishing  his  laughter, 
Old  gossip  Stork,  some  few  days  after, 
Returned  his  Foxship's  invitation. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation, 
He  said  he'd  go,  for  he  must  own  he 
Ne'er  stood  with  friends  for  ceremony. 
And  so,  precisely  at  the  hour, 
He  hied  him  to  the  lady's  bower, 
Where,  praising  her  politeness, 
He  finds  her  dinner  right  nice. 


362  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Its  punctuality  and  plenty, 

Its  viands,  cut  in  mouthfuls  dainty, 

Its  fragrant  smell,  were  powerful  to  excite, 

Had  there  been  need,  his  foxish  appetite. 

But  now  the  dame,  to  torture  him, 

Such  wit  was  in  her, 

Served  up  her  dinner 
In  vases  made  so  tall  and  slim. 
They  let  their  owner's  beak  pass  in  and  out, 
But  not,  by  any  means,  the  fox's  snout ! 

All  arts  without  avail, 

With  drooping  head  and  tail, 
As  ought  a  fox  a  fowl  had  cheated, 
The  hungry  guest  at  last  retreated. 

Ye  knaves,  for  you  is  this  recital, 
You'll  often  meet  Dame  Stork's  requital. 


THE   BOY   AND  THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

Wise  counsel  is  not  always  wise, 
As  this  my  tale  exemplifies. 
A  boy,  that  frolicked  on  the  banks  of  Seine, 
Fell  in,  and  would  have  found  a  watery  grave, 
Had  not  that  hand  that  planteth  ne'er  in  vain 
A  willow  planted  there,  his  life  to  save. 
While  hanging  by  its  branches  as  he  might, 
A  certain  sage  preceptor  came  in  sight ; 
To  whom  the  urchin  cried,  Save,  or  I'm  drowned. 
The  master,  turning  gravely  at  the  sound, 
Thought  proper  for  a  while  to  stand  aloof, 
4nd  give  the  boy  some  seasonable  reproof. 
You  little  wretch !  this  comes  of  foolish  playing. 
Commands  and  precepts  disobeying. 
A  naughty  rogue,  no  doubt,  you  are, 
Who  thus  requite  your  parents'  care. 
Alas  !  their  lot  I  pity  much, 
Whom  fate  condemns  to  watch  o'er  such. 
This  having  coolly  said,  and  more, 
He  pulled  the  drowning  lad  ashore. 


364  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

This  story  hits  more  marks  than  you  suppose. 
All  critics,  pedants,  men  of  endless  prose,  — 
Three  sorts  so  richly  blessed  with  progeny, 
The  house  is  blessed  that  doth  not  lodge  any,- 
May  in  it  see  themselves  from  head  to  toes. 
No  matter  what  the  task, 

Their  precious  tongues  must  teach  ; 
Their  help  in  need  you  ask, 

You  first  must  hear  them  preach. 


THE  LION   AND  THE  HUNTER. 

A  braggart,  lover  of  the  chase, 
Had  lost  a  dog  of  valued  race, 
And  thought  him  in  a  lion's  maw. 
He  asked  a  shepherd  whom  he  saw, 
Pray  show  me,  man,  the  robber's  place, 
And  Pll  have  justice  in  the  case. 
'Tis  on  this  mountain  side, 
The  shepherd  man  replied. 
The  tribute  of  a  sheep  I  pay, 
Each  month,  and  where  I  please  I  stray. 
Out  leaped  the  lion,  as  he  spake, 

And  came  that  way,  with  agile  feet. 

The  braggart,  prompt  his  flight  to  take, 

Cried,  Jove,  O  grant  a  safe  retreat ! 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  365 

A  danger  close  at  hand 

Of  courage  is  the  test. 
It  shows  us  who  will  stand  — 

Whose  legs  will  run  their  best. 


THE   HORNETS  AND  THE  BEKS. 

The  artist  by  his  work  is  known. 

A  piece  of  honey-comb,  one  day, 
Discovered  as  a  waif  and  stray, 
The  hornets  treated  as  their  own. 
Their  title  did  the  bees  dispute, 
And  brought  before  a  wasp  the  suit. 
The  judge  was  puzzled  to  decide, 
For  nothing  could  be  testified, 
Save  that  around  this  honey-comb 
There  had  been  seen,  as  if  at  home, 
Some  longish,  brownish,  buzzing  creatures, 
Much  like  the  bees  in  wings  and  features. 
But  what  of  that  ?  for  marks  the  same, 
The  hornets,  too,  could  truly  claim. 

Between  assertion  and  denial, 

The  wasp,  in  doubt,  proclaimed  new  trial ; 

And,  hearing  what  an  ant-hill  swore, 

Could  see  no  clearer  than  before. 

What  use,  I  pray,  of  this  expense  ? 

At  last  exclaimed  a  bee  of  sense. 


366  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

We've  labored  months  in  this  affair, 
And  now  are  only  where  we  were. 
Meanwhile  the  honey  runs  to  waste : 
'Tis  time  the  judge  should  show  some  haste. 
The  parties,  sure,  have  had  sufficient  bleeding, 
Without  more  fuss  of  scrawls  and  pleading. 
Let's  set  ourselves  at  work,  these  drones  and  we, 
And  then  ail  eyes  the  truth  may  plainly  see, 
Whose  art  it  is  that  can  produce 
The  magic  cells,  the  nectar  juice. 
The  hornets,  flinching  on  their  part, 
Show  that  the  work  transcends  their  art. 
The  wasp  at  length  their  title  sees, 
And  gives  the  honey  to  the  bees. 

Would  God  that  suits  at  law  with  us 

Might  all  be  managed  thus ! 
That  we  might,  in  the  Turkish  mode, 
Have  simple  common  sense  for  code ! 
They  then  were  short  and  cheap  affairs, 
Instead  of  stretching  on  like  ditches, 
Ingulfing  in  their  course  all  riches,  — ■ 
The  parties  leaving,  for  their  shares, 
The  shells  (and  shells  there  might  be  moister) 
From  which  the  court  has  sucked  the  oyster ! 


THE   OAK  AND  THE  REED. 

The  oak,  one  day,  addressed  the  reed :  — 

To  you  ungenerous  indeed 

Has  nature  been,  my  humble  friend, 

With  weakness  aye  obliged  to  bend. 

The  smallest  bird  that  flits  in  air 

Is  quite  too  much  for  you  to  bear ; 

The  slightest  wind  that  wreaths  the  lake 

Your  ever-trembling  head  doth  shake. 

The  while,  my  towering  form 

Dares  with  the  mountain  top 

The  solar  blaze  to  stop, 

And  wrestle  with  the  storm. 
What  seems  to  you  the  blast  of  death, 
To  me  is  but  a  zephyr's  breath. 
Beneath  my  branches  had  you  grown, 

That  spread  far  round  their  friendly  bower, 
Less  suffering  would  your  life  have  known, 
Defended  from  the  tempest's  power. 
Unhappily,  you  oftenest  show 

In  open  air  your  slender  form. 
Along  the  marshes,  wet  and  low, 

That  fringe  the  kingdom  of  the  storm 


368  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

To  you,  declare  I  must, 
Dame  Nature  seems  unjust. 
Then  modestly  replied  the  reed, 
Your  pity,  sir,  is  kind  indeed, 
But  wholly  needless  for  my  sake. 
The  wildest  wind  that  ever  blew 
Is  safe  to  me,  compared  with  you. 
I  bend,  indeed,  but  never  break. 
Thus  far,  I  own,  the  hurricane 
Has  beat  your  sturdy  back  in  vain ; 
But  wait  the  end.     Just  at  the  word, 
The  tempest's  hollow  voice  was  heard. 
The  North  sent  forth  her  fiercest  child, 
Dark,  jagged,  pitiless,  and  wild. 
The  oak,  erect,  endured  the  blow ; 
The  reed  bowed  gracefully  and  low. 
But,  gathering  up  its  strength  once  more, 
In  greater  fury  than  before, 

The  savage  blast 

O'erthrew,  at  last, 
That  proud,  old,  sky-encircled  head, 
Whose  feet  entwined  the  empire  of  the  dead  ! 


VilE&IB    IFICSig^* 


THE  WOODMAN    AND  MERCURY. 


TO    M.    THE    CHEVALIER    DE    BOUILLON. 


our  taste  has  served  my  work  to 

guide ; 
To  gain  its  suffrage  I  have  tried. 
You'd  have  me  shun  a  care  too  nice, 
Or  beauty  at  too  dear  a  price, 
Or  too  much  effort,  as  a  vice. 
My  taste  with  yours  agrees  : 
Such  effort  cannot  please  ; 


370  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And  too  much  pains  about  the  polish 

Is  apt  the  substance  to  abolish ; 

Not  that  it  would  be  right  or  wise 

The  graces  all  to  ostracize. 

You  love  them  much  when  delicate ; 

Nor  is  it  left  for  me  to  hate. 

As  to  the  scope  of  iEsop's  plan, 

I  fail  as  little  as  I  can. 

If  this  my  rhymed  and  measured  speech 

Availeth  not  to  please  or  teach, 

I  own  it  not  a  fault  of  mine  ; 

Some  unknown  reason  I  assign. 
With  little  strength  endued 
For  battles  rough  and  rude, 

Or  with  Herculean  arm  to  smite, 

I  show  to  vice  its  foolish  plight. 

In  this  my  talent  wholly  lies ; 

Not  that  it  does  at  all  suffice. 

My  fable  sometimes  brings  to  view 

The  face  of  vanity  purblind 

With  that  of  restless  envy  joined  ; 
And  life  now  turns  upon  these  pivots  two. 

Such  is  the  silly  little  frog 

That  aped  the  ox  upon  her  bog. 

A  double  image  sometimes  shows 

How  vice  and  folly  do  oppose 

The  ways  of  virtue  and  good  sense ; 

As  lambs  with  wolves  so  grim  and  gaunt, 

The  silly  fly  and  frugal  ant. 
Thus  swells  my  work  —  a  comedy  immense  - 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  371 

Its  acts  unnumbered  and  diverse, 

Its  scene  the  boundless  universe. 

Gods,  men,  and  brutes,  all  play  their  part 

In  fields  of  nature  or  of  art, 

And  Jupiter  among  the  rest. 

Here  comes  the  god  who  's  wont  to  bear 

Jove's  frequent  errands  to  the  fair, 

With  winged  heels  and  haste ; 
But  other  work  's  in  hand  to-day. 

A  man  that  labored  in  the  wood 
Had  lost  his  honest  livelihood  ; 
That  is  to  say, 

His  axe  was  gone  astray. 

He  had  no  tools  to  spare  ; 

This  wholly  earned  his  fare. 

Without  a  hope  beside, 

He  sat  him  down  and  cried, 
Alas,  my  axe  !  where  can  it  be  ? 
O  Jove !   but  send  it  back  to  me, 
And  it  shall  strike  good  blows  for  thee. 
His  prayer  in  high  Olympus  heard, 
Swift  Mercury  started  at  the  word. 
Your  axe  must  not  be  lost,  said  he  : 
Now  will  you  know  it  when  you  see  I 
An  axe  I  found  upon  the  road. 
With  that  an  axe  of  gold  he  showed. 
Is't  this?     The  woodman  answered,  Nay. 
An  axe  of  silver,  bright  and  gay, 
Refused  the  honest  woodman  too. 
At  last  the  finder  brought  to  view 


372  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

An  axe  of  iron,  steel,  and  wood. 

That's  mine,  he  said,  in  joyful  mood ; 

With  that  I'll  quite  contented  be. 

The  god  replied,  I  give  the  three, 

As  due  reward  of  honesty. 

This  luck  when  neighboring  choppers  knew, 

They  lost  their  axes,  not  a  few, 

And  sent  their  prayers  to  Jupiter 

So  fast,  he  knew  not  which  to  hear. 

His  winged  son,  however,  sent 

With  gold  and  silver  axes,  went. 

Each  would  have  thought  himself  a  fool 

Not  to  have  owned  the  richest  tool. 

But  Mercury  promptly  gave,  instead 

Of  it,  a  blow  upon  the  head. 

With  simple  truth  to  be  contented, 

Is  surest  not  to  be  repented; 

But  still  there  are  who  would 

With  evil  trap  the  good,  — 

Whose  cunning  is  but  stupid, 

For  Jove  is  never  duped. 


LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  373 


THE  LION   AND  THE   RAT. 


To  show  to  all  jour  kindness,  it  behoves : 
There's  none  so  small  but  you  his  aid  may  need 
I  quote  two  fables  for  this  weighty  creed, 
Which  either  of  them  fully  proves. 
From  underneath  the  sward 
A  rat,  quite  off  his  guard, 
Popped  out  between  a  lion's  paws. 
The  beast  of  royal  bearing 
Showed  what  a  lion  was 
The  creature's  life  by  sparing; — 
A  kindness  well  repaid  ; 
For,  little  as  you  would  have  thought 
His  majesty  would  ever  need  his  aid, 
It  proved  full  soon 
A  precious  boon. 
Forth  issuing  from  his  forest  glen, 

T?  explore  the  haunts  of  men, 
In  lion  net  his  majesty  was  caught, 
Fiom  which  his  strength  and  rage 
Served  not  to  disengage. 
The  rat  ran  up,  with  grateful  gleu, 
Gnawed  off  a  rope,  and  set  him  free. 

By  time  and  toil  we  sever 

What  strength  and  rage  could  never. 


THE  BAT   AND   THE   TWO   WEASELS. 

A  blundering  bat  once  stuck  her  head 
Into  a  wakeful  weasel's  bed ; 
Whereat  the  mistress  of  the  house, 

A  deadly  foe  of  rats  and  mice, 

Was  making  ready  in  a  trice 
To  eat  the  stranger  as  a  mouse. 

What !  do  you  dare,  she  said,  to  creep  in 
The  very  bed  1  sometimes  sleep  in, 
Now,  after  all  the  provocation 
I've  suffered  from  your  thievish  nation  ? 
Are  you  not  really  a  mouse, 
That  gnawing  pest  of  every  house, 
Your  special  aim  to  do  the  cheese  ill  ? 
Ay,  that  you  are,  or  I'm  no  weasel. 

I  beg  your  pardon,  said  the  bat ; 
My  kind  is  very  far  from  that. 
What !  I  a  mouse  !     Who  told  you  such  a  lie  ? 

Why,  ma'am,  I  am  a  bird  ; 

And,  if  you  doubt  my  word, 
Just  see  the  wings  with  which  I  fly. 
Long  live  the  mice  that  cleave  the  sky ! 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  375 

These  reasons  had  so  fair  a  show, 

The  weasel  let  the  creature  go. 

By  some  strange  fancy  led, 

The  same  wise  blunderhead, 

But  two  or  three  days  later, 

Had  chosen  for  her  rest 

Another  weasel's  nest, 

This  last,  of  birds  a  special  hater. 

New  peril  brought  this  step  absurd. 
Without  a  moment's  thought  or  puzzle, 
Dame  weasel  oped  her  peaked  muzzle 

To  eat  th'  intruder  as  a  bird. 
Hold !  do  not  wrong  me,  cried  the  bat; 
I'm  truly  no  such  thing  as  that. 
Your  eyesight  strange  conclusions  gathers. 
What  makes  a  bird,  I  pray?     Its  feathers. 

I'm  cousin  of  the  mice  and  rats. 

Great  Jupiter  confound  the  cats  ! 
The  bat,  by  such  adroit  replying, 
Twice  saved  herself  from  dying. 

And  many  a  human  stranger 

Thus  turns  his  coat  in  danger ; 
And  sings,  as  suits  where'er  he  goes, 
God  save  the  king !  —  or,  save  his  foes  ! 


THE  WOLF  AND   THE  LEAN   DOG. 

A  troutling,  some  time  since,* 
Endeavored  vainly  to  convince 

A  hungry  fisherman 
Of  his  unfitness  for  the  frying-pan. 
That  controversy  made  it  plain 

That  letting  go  a  good  secure, 
In  hope  of  future  gain, 

Is  but  imprudence  pure. 
The  fisherman  had  reason  good  — 
The  troutling  did  the  best  he  could  - 

Both  argued  for  their  lives. 
Now,  if  my  present  purpose  thrives, 
I'll  prop  my  former  proposition 
By  building  on  a  small  addition. 
A  certain  wolf,  in  point  of  wit 
The  prudent  fisher's  opposite, 
A  dog  once  finding  far  astray, 
Prepared  to  take  him  as  ms  prey. 

The  dog  his  leanness  plead ; 

Your  lordship,  sure,  he  said, 

*  See  Book  V.  Fable  III. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  377 

Cannot  be  very  eager 

To  eat  a  dog  so  meagre. 
To  wait  a  little  do  not  grudge : 
The  wedding  of  my  master's  only  daughter 
Will  cause  of  fatted  calves  and  fowls  a  slaughter ; 
And  then,  as  you  yourself  can  judge, 
I  cannot  help  becoming  fatter. 
The  wolf,  believing,  waived  the  matter, 
And  so,  some  days  therefrom, 

Returned  with  sole  design  to  see 

If  fat  enough  his  dog  might  be. 
The  rogue  was  now  at  home : 
He  saw  the  hunter  through  the  fence. 

My  friend,  said  he,  please  wait ; 
I'll  be  with  you  a  moment  hence, 

And  fetch  our  porter  of  the  gate. 
This  porter  was  a  dog  immense, 
That  left  to  wolves  no  future  tense. 

Suspicion  gave  our  wolf  a  jog,  — 
It  might  not  be  so  safely  tampered. 

My  service  to  your  porter  dog, 
Was  his  reply,  as  off  he  scampered. 
His  legs  proved  better  than  his  head, 
And  saved  him  life  to  learn  his  trade. 


378  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  LION    AND  THE  GNA'l. 

Go,  paltry  insect,  nature's  meanest  brat ! 
Thus  said  the  royal  lion  to  the  gnat. 
The  gnat  declared  immediate  war. 
Think  you,  said  he,  your  royal  name 
To  me  worth  caring  for  ? 
Think  you  I  tremble  at  your  power  or  fame  ? 
The  ox  is  bigger  far  than  you ; 
Yet  him  I  drive,  and  all  his  crew. 
This  said,  as  one  that  did  no  fear  owe, 

Himself  he  blew  the  battle  charge, 
Himself  both  trumpeter  and  hero. 
At  first  he  played  about  at  large, 
Then  on  the  lion's  neck,  at  leisure,  settled, 
And  there  the  royal  beast  full  sorely  nettled. 
With  foaming  mouth,  and  flashing  eye, 
He  roars.     All  creatures  hide  or  fly, — 
Such  mortal  terror  at 
The  work  of  one  poor  gnat ! 
With  constant  change  of  his  attack, 
The  snout  now  stinging,  now  the  back, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  379 

And  now  the  chambers  of  the  nose ; 
The  pygmy  fly  no  mercy  shows. 
The  lion's  rage  was  at  its  height , 
His  viewless  foe  now  laughed  outright, 
When  on  his  battle-ground  he  saw, 
That  every  savage  tooth  and  claw 
Had  got  its  proper  beauty 
By  doing  bloody  duty  ; 
Himself,  the  hapless  lion,  tore  his  hide, 
A  nd  lashed  with  sounding  tail  from  side  to  side 
Ah  !  bootless  blow,  and  bite,  and  curse  ! 
He  beat  the  harmless  air,  and  worse ; 
For,  though  so  fierce  and  stout, 
By  effort  wearied  out, 
He  fainted,  fell,  gave  up  the  quarrel. 
The  gnat  retires  with  verdant  laurel. 
Now  rings  his  trumpet  clang 
As  at  the  charge  it  rang:. 
But  while  his  triumph  note  he  blows, 
Straight  on  our  valiant  conqueror  goes 
A  spider's  ambuscade  to  meet, 
And  make  its  web  his  winding-sheet. 

We  often  have  the  most  to  fear 
From  those  we  most  despise  ; 

Again,  great  risks  a  man  may  clear, 
Who  by  the  smallest  dies. 


380  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   ASS   LOADED   WITH   SPONGES,  AND   THE  ASS 
LOADED  WITH  SALT. 


A  man,  whom  1  shall  call  an  ass-eteer, 
His  sceptre  like  some  Roman  emperor  bearing, 

Drove  on  two  coursers  of  protracted  ear, 
The  one,  with  sponges  laden,  briskly  faring ; 
The  other  lifting  legs 
As  if  he  trod  on  eggs, 
With  constant  need  of  goading, 
And  bags  of  salt  for  loading. 
O'er  hill  and  dale  our  merry  pilgrims  passed, 
Till,  coming  to  a  river's  ford  at  last, 
They  stopped  quite  puzzled  on  the  shore. 
Our  asseteer  had  crossed  the  stream  before ; 
So,  on  the  lighter  beast  astride, 

He  drives  the  other,  spite  of  dread, 
Which,  loath  indeed  to  go  ahead, 
Into  a  deep  hole  turns  aside, 
And,  facing  right  about, 
Where  he  went  in,  comes  out ; 
For  duckings  two  or  three 
Had  power  the  salt  to  melt, 
So  that  the  creature  felt 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


381 


His  burdened  shoulders  free. 
The  sponger,  like  a  sequent  sheep, 
Pursuing  through  the  water  deep, 

Into  the  same  hole  plunges 
♦Himself,  his  rider,  and  the  sponges. 
All  three  drank  deeply:  asseteer  and  ass 
For  boon  companions  of  their  load  might  pass ; 
Which  last  became  so  sore  a  weight, 
The  ass  fell  down, 
Belike  to  drown, 
His  rider  risking  equal  fate. 
A  helper  came,  no  matter  who. 
The  moral  needs  no  more  ado  — 
That  all  can't  act  alike, — 
The  point  I  wished  to  strike. 


THE  ASTROLOGER  WHO   STUMBLED  INTO  A  WEJJ. 

To  an  astrologer  who  fell 
Plump  to  the  bottom  of  a  well, 
Poor  blockhead  !  cried  a  passer  by, 
Not  see  jour  feet,  and  read  the  sky  ? 

This  upshot  of  a  story  will  suffice 
To  give  a  useful  hint  to  most ; 
For  few  there  are  in  this  our  world  so  wise 
As  not  to  trust  in  star  or  ghost, 
Or  cherish  secretly  the  creed 
That  men  the  book  of  destiny  may  read. 
This  book,  by  Homer  and  his  pupils  sung, 
What  is  it,  in  plain  common  sense, 
But  what  was  chance  those  ancient  folks  among, 
And  with  ourselves,  God's  providence  ? 
Now,  chance  doth  bid  defiance 
To  every  thing  like  science  ; 

'Twere  wrong,  if  not, 
To  call  it  hazard,  fortune,  lot  — 
Things  palpably  uncertain. 
But  from  the  purposes  divine, 
The  deep  of  infinite  design, 
Who  boasts  to  lift  the  curtain  ? 
Whom  but  himself  doth  God  allow 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  383 

To  read  his  bosom  thoughts,  and  how  ? 
Would  he  imprint  upon  the  stars  sublime 
The  shrouded  secrets  of  the  night,  of  time  ? 
And  all  for  what  ?     To  exercise  the  wit 
Of  those  who  on  astrology  have  writ  ? 
To  help  us  shun  inevitable  ills  ? 
To  poison  for  us  even  pleasure's  rills  ? 
The  choicest  blessings  to  destroy, 
Exhausting,  ere  they  come,  their  joy  ? 
Such  faith  is  worse  than  error  —  'tis  a  crime. 
The  sky-host  moves  and  marks  the  course  of  time ; 
The  sun  sheds  on  our  nicely-measured  days 
The  glory  of  his  night-dispelling  rays ; 
And  all  from  this  we  can  divine 
Is,  that  they  need  to  rise  and  shine,  — 
To  roll  the  seasons,  ripen  fruits, 
And  cheer  the  hearts  of  men  and  brutes. 
How  tallies  this  revolving  universe 
With  human  things,  eternally  diverse  ? 
Ye  horoscopers,  waning  quacks, 
Please  turn  on  Europe's  courts  your  backs, 
And,  taking  on  your  travelling  lists 
The  bellows- blowing  alchemists, 
Budge  off  together  to  the  land  of  mists. 
But  I've  digressed.     Return  we  now,  bethinking 
Of  our  poor  star-man,  whom  we  left  a  drinking. 
Besides  the  folly  of  his  lying  trade, 
This  man  the  type  may  well  be  made 

Of  those  who  at  chimeras  stare 
When  they  should  mind  the  things  that  are. 


THE  HARE   AND  THE   FROGS. 

Once  in  his  bed  deep  mused  the  hare, 
(What  else  but  muse  could  he  do  there  ?) 
And  soon  by  gloom  was  much  afflicted ;  — 
To  gloom  the  creature's  much  addicted. 
Alas!  these  constitutions  nervous, 
He  cried,  how  wretchedly  they  serve  us ! 
We  timid  people,  by  their  action, 
Can't  eat  nor  sleep  with  satisfaction  ; 
We  can't  enjoy  a  pleasure  single, 
But  with  some  misery  it  must  mingle. 
Myself,  for  one,  am  forced  by  cursed  fear 
To  sleep  with  open  eye  as  well  as  ear. 
Correct  yourself,  says  some  adviser. 
Grows  fear,  by  such  advice,  the  wiser  ? 
Indeed,  I  well  enough  descry 
That  men  have  fear,  as  well  as  I. 
With  such  revolving  thoughts  our  hare 
-  Kept  watch  in  soul-consuming  care. 
A  passing  shade,  or  leaflet's  quiver 
Would  give  his  blood  a  boiling  fever. 


THE    HARE    AND    THE    PROGS. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  385 

Full  soon,  his  melancholy  soul 
Aroused  from  dreaming  doze 
By  noise  too  slight  for  foes, 
He  scuds  in  haste  to  reach  his  hole. 
He  passed  a  pond ;  and  from  its  border  bogs, 
Plunge  after  plunge,  in  leaped  the  timid  frogs. 
Aha !  I  do  to  them,  I  see, 
He  cried,  what  others  do  to  me. 
The  sight  of  even  me,  a  hare, 
Sufiiceth  some,  I  find,  to  scare. 
And  here,  the  terror  of  my  tramp 
Hath  put  to  rout,  it  seems,  a  camp. 
The  trembling  fools !  they  take  me  for 
The  very  thunderbolt  of  war  ! 
I  see,  the  coward  never  skulked  a  foe 
That  might  not  scare  a  coward  still  belov*'. 


THE  CAT   METAMORPHOSED  INTO   A   WOMAN 

A  bachelor  caressed  his  cat, 

A  darling  fair  and  delicate ; 

So  deep  in  love,  he  thought  her  mew 

The  sweetest  voice  he  ever  knew. 

By  prayers,  and  tears,  and  magic  art, 

The  man  got  Fate  to  take  his  part ; 

And,  lo !  one  morning  at  his  side 

His  cat,  transformed,  became  his  bride. 

In  wedded  state  our  man  was  seen 

The  fool  in  courtship  he  had  been. 

No  lover  e'er  was  so  bewitched 

By  any  maiden's  charms 
As  was  this  husband,  so  enriched 

By  hers  within  his  arms. 
He  praised  her  beauties,  this  and  that, 
And  saw  there  nothing  of  the  cat. 

In  short,  by  passion's  aid,  he 

Thought  her  a  perfect  lady. 

'Twas  night :  some  carpet-gnawing  mice 
Disturbed  the  nuptial  joys. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  387 

Excited  by  the  noise, 
The  bride  sprang  at  them  in  a  trice. 

The  mice  were  scared  and  fled. 

The  bride,  scarce  in  her  bed, 
The  gnawing  heard,  and  sprang  again, — 

And  this  time  not  in  vain, 
For,  in  this  novel  form  arrayed, 
Of  her  the  mice  were  less  afraid. 
Through  life  she  loved  this  mousing  course, 
So  great  is  stubborn  nature's  force. 

In  mockery  of  change,  the  old 
Will  keep  their  youthful  bent. 

When  once  the  cloth  has  got  its  fold, 
The  smelling  pot  its  scent, 

In  vain  your  efforts  and  your  care 

To  make  them  other  than  they  are. 

To  work  reform,  do  what  you  will, 

Old  habit  will  be  habit  still. 
Nor  fork*  nor  strap  can  mend  its  manners, 
Nor  cudgel-blows  beat  down  its  banners. 
Secure  the  doors  against  the  renter, 
And  through  the  windows  it  will  enter. 

*  Naturam  expellas  furca,  tamen  usque  recurret.  —  Hor. 


THE  COCK   AND  THE  FOX. 

Upon  a  tree  there  mounted  guard 
A  veteran  cock,  adroit  and  cunning, 
When  to  the  roots  a  fox  up  running, 
Spoke  thus,  in  tones  of  kind  regard :  — 
Our  quarrel,  brother,  's  at  an  end ; 
Henceforth  I  hope  to  live  your  friend  ; 
For  peace  now  reigns 
Throughout  the  animal  domains. 
I  bear  the  news:  —  come  down,  I  pray, 

And  give  me  the  embrace  fraternal; 
And  please,  my  brother,  don't  delay. 

So  much  the  tidings  do  concern  all, 
That  I  must  spread  them  far  to-day. 
Now  you  and  yours  can  take  your  walks 
Without  a  fear  or  thought  of  hawks. 
And  should  you  clash  with  them  or  others, 
In  us  you'll  find  the  best  of  brothers  ;  — 
For  which  you  may,  this  joyful  night, 
Your  merry  bonfires  light. 
But,  first,  let's  seal  the  bliss 
With  one  fraternal  kiss. 


THE    COCK    AND    THE    FOX. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


389 


Good  friend,  the  cock  replied,  upon  my  word, 
A  better  thing  I  never  heard ; 
And  doubly  I  rejoice 
To  hear  it  from  jour  voice ; 
And,  really,  there  must  be  something  in  it, 
For  yonder  come  two  greyhounds,  which,  T  flatter 
Myself,  are  couriers  on  this  very  matter. 

They  come  so  fast,  they'll  be  here  in  a  minute. 
I'll  down,  and  all  of  us  will  seal  the  blessing 
With  general  kissing  and  caressing. 
Adieu,  said  fox  ;  my  errand's  pressing  ; 
I'll  hurry  on  my  way, 
And  we'll  rejoice  some  other  day. 
So  off  the  fellow  scampered,  quick  and  light, 
To  gain  the  fox-holes  of  a  neighboring  height, 
Less  happy  in  his  stratagem  than  flight. 
The  cock  laughed  sweetly  in  his  sleeve ;  — 
'Tis  doublv  sweet  deceiver  to  deceive. 


THE  ORACLE  AND  THE  ATHEIST. 

That  man  his  Maker  can  deceive, 

Is  monstrous  folly  to  believe. 
The  labyrinthine  mazes  of  the  heart 
Are  open  to  his  eyes  in  every  part. 
Whatever  one  may  do,  or  think,  or  feel, 
From  Him  no  darkness  can  the  thing  conceal. 
A  pagan  once,  of  graceless  heart  and  hollow, 

Whose  faith  in  gods,  Pm  apprehensive, 

Was  quite  as  real  as  expensive, 
Consulted,  at  his  shrine,  the  god  Apollo, 

Is  what  I  hold  alive,  or  not? 

Said  he,  —  a  sparrow  having  brought, 
Prepared  to  wring  its  neck,  or  let  it  fly, 
As  need  might  be,  to  give  the  god  the  lie. 
Apollo  saw  the  trick 
And  answered  quick, 

Dead  or  alive,  show  me  your  sparrow, 
And  cease  to  set  for  me  a  trap 
Which  can  but  cause  yourself  mishap. 

1  see  afar,  and  far  I  shoot  my  arrow. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  391 


THE  MISER  WHO  HAD  LOST   HIS  TREASURE. 

'Tis  use  that  constitutes  possession. 

I  ask  that  sort  of  men,  whose  passion 
It  is  to  get  and  never  spend, 
Of  all  their  toil  what  is  the  end  ; 

What  they  enjoy  of  all  their  labors 

Which  do  not  equally  their  neighbors  ? 

Throughout  this  upper  mortal  strife, 

The  miser  leads  a  beggars  life. 

Old  iEsop's  man  of  hidden  treasure 
May  serve  the  case  to  demonstrate. 

He  had  a  great  estate, 
But  chose  a  second  life  to  wait 

Ere  he  began  to  taste  its  pleasure. 

This  man,  whom  gold  so  little  blessed, 

Was  not  possessor,  but  possessed. 

His  cash  he  buried  under  ground, 

Where  only  might  his  heart  be  found ; 

It  being,  then,  his  sole  delight 

To  ponder  of  it  day  and  night, 

And  consecrate  his  rusty  pelf, 

A  sacred  offering,  to  himself. 

In  all  his  eating,  drinking,  travel, 
Most  wondrous  short  of  funds  he  seemed  ; 
One  would  have  thought  he  little  dreamed 

Where  lay  such  sums  beneath  the  gravel. 


392  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

A  ditcher  marked  his  coming  to  the  spot, 

So  frequent  was  it, 
And  thus  at  last  some  little  inkling  got 
Of  the  deposit. 
He  took  it  all,  and  babbled  not. 

One  morning,  ere  the  dawn, 

Forth  had  our  miser  gone 
To  worship  what  he  loved  the  best, 
When,  lo !  he  found  an  empty  nest ! 
Alas  !   what  groaning,  wailing,  crying  ! 
What  deep  and  bitter  sighing ! 

His  torment  makes  him  tear 

Out  by  the  roots  his  hair. 

A  passenger  demandeth  why 

Such  marvellous  outcry. 
They've  got  my  gold  !  it's  gone  —  it's  gone  ! 
Four  gold!  pray  where? — Beneath  this  stone. 
Why,  man,  is  this  a  time  of  war, 
That  you  should  bring  your  gold  so  far  ? 
You'd  better  kept  it  in  your  drawer ; 
And  I'll  be  bound,  if  once  but  in  it, 
You  could  have  got  it  any  minute. 
At  any  minute  !     Ah,  Heaven  knows 
That  cash  comes  harder  than  it  goes ! 
I  touched  it  not.  —  Then  have  the  grace 
To  explain  to  me  that  rueful  face, 

Replied  the  man  ;  for,  if  'tis  true 
You  touched  it  not,  how  plain  the  case, 
That,  put  the  stone  back  in  its  place, 

And  all  will  be  as  well  for  you. 


THE  RAVEN   WISHING  TO  IMITATE  THE  EAGLE. 


The  bird  of  Jove  bore  off  a  mutton, 

A  raven  being  witness. 
That  weaker  bird,  but  equal  glutton, 

Not  doubting  of  his  fitness 
To  do  the  same  with  ease, 
And  bent  his  taste  to  please, 
Took  round  the  flock  his  sweep, 
And  marked  among  the  sheep, 
The  one  of  fairest  flesh  and  size, 
A  real  sheep  of  sacrifice  — 
A  dainty  titbit  bestial, 
Reserved  for  mouth  celestial. 
Our  gormand,  gloating  round, 

Cried,  Sheep,  I  wronder  much 

Who  could  have  made  you  such. 
You're  far  the  fattest  I  have  found  ,* 
I'll  take  you  for  my  eating. 
And  on  the  creature  bleating 


394 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


He  settled  down.     Now,  sooth  to  say, 
This  sheep  would  weigh 

More  than  a  cheese  ; 
And  had  a  fleece 
Much  like  that  matting  famous 
Which  graced  the  chin  of  Polyphemus  ; 
So  fast  it  clung  to  every  claw, 
It  was  not  easy  to  withdraw. 
The  shepherd  came,  caught,  caged,  and,  to  their  joy, 
Gave  croaker  to  his  children  for  a  toy. 

Ill  plays  the  pilferer  the  bigger  thief; 
One's  self  one  ought  to  know  ;  —  in  brief, 
Example  is  a  dangerous  lure  ; 
Death  strikes  the  gnat,  where  flies  the  wasp  secure. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  395 


THE  PEACOCK  COMPLAINING  TO  JUNO. 

The  peacock  to  the  queen  of  heaven 
Complained  in  some  such  words :  — 

Great  goddess,  you  have  given 

To  me,  the  laughing-stock  of  birds, 

A  voice  which  fills,  by  taste  quite  just, 
All  nature  with  disgust ; 

Whereas  that  little  paltry  thing, 

The  nightingale,  pours  from  her  throat 
So  sweet  and  ravishing  a  note, 
She  bears  alone  the  honors  of  the  spring. 

In  anger  Juno  heard, 
And  cried,  Shame  on  you,  jealous  bird ! 
Grudge  you  the  nightingale  her  voice, 
Who  in  the  rainbow  neck  rejoice, 
Than  costliest  silks  more  richly  tinted, 
In  charms  of  grace  and  form  unstinted,  — 
Who  strut  in  kingly  pride, 
Your  glorious  tail  spread  wide 
With  brilliants  which  in  sheen  do 
Outshine  the  jeweller's  bow-window  ? 


396  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Is  there  a  bird  beneath  the  blue 
That  has  more  charms  than  you  ? 

No  animal  in  every  thing  can  shine. 

By  just  partition  of  our  gifts  divine, 

Each  has  its  full  and  proper  share; 

Among  the  birds  that  cleave  the  air, 
The  hawk  's  a  swift,  the  eagle  is  a  brave  one, 
For  omens  serves  the  hoarse  old  raven, 
The  rook  's  of  coming  ills  the  prophet ; 

And  if  there's  any  discontent, 
I've  heard  not  of  it. 

Cease,  then,  your  envious  complaint ; 

Or  I,  instead  of  making  up  your  lack, 

Will  take  your  boasted  plumage  from  your  back. 


THE   LION    AND   THE   ASS   HUNTING. 


The  king  of  animals,  with  royal  grace, 
Would  celebrate  his  birthday  in  the  chase. 
'Twas  not  with  bow  and  arrows 
To  slay  some  wretched  sparrows ; 
The  lion  hunts  the  wild  boar  of  the  wood, 
The  antlered  deer  and  stags,  the  fat  and  good. 
This  time,  the  king,  t'  insure  success, 
Took  for  his  aid-de-camp  an  ass, 
A  creature  of  stentorian  voice, 
That  felt  much  honored  by  the  choice. 
The  lion  hid  him  in  a  proper  station, 
And  ordered  him  to  bray,  for  his  vocation, 
Assured  that  his  tempestuous  cry 
The  boldest  beasts  would  terrify, 
And  cause  them  from  their  lairs  to  fly. 
And,  sooth,  the  horrid  noise  the  creature  made 
Did  strike  the  tenants  of  the  wood  with  dread; 


398  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

And,  as  they  headlong  fled, 

All  fell  within  the  lion's  ambuscade. 
Has  not  my  service  glorious 
Made  both  of  us  victorious  ? 
Cried  out  the  much-elated  ass. 

Yes,  said  the  lion ;  bravely  brayed ! 
Had  I  not  known  yourself  and  race, 

I  should  have  been  myself  afraid ! 
If  he  had  dared,  the  donkey 
Had  shown  himself  right  spunky 

At  this  retort,  though  justly  made  ; 
For  who  could  suffer  boasts  to  pass 
So  ill-befitting  to  an  ass  ? 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  WILL  EXPLAINED  BY  jESOP. 

If  what  old  story  says  of  jEsop  's  true, 

The  oracle  of  Greece  he  was, 
And  more  than  Areopagus  he  knew, 

With  all  its  wisdom  in  the  laws. 
The  following  tale  gives  but  a  sample 
Of  what  has  made  his  fame  so  ample. 
Three  daughters  shared  a  father's  purse, 

Of  habits  totally  diverse. 
The  first,  bewitched  with  drinks  delicious ; 
The  next,  coquettish  and  capricious ; 
The  third,  supremely  avaricious. 

The  sire,  expectant  of  his  fate, 

Bequeathed  his  whole  estate, 

In  equal  shares,  to  them, 

And  to  their  mother  just  the  same, — 

To  her  then  payable,  and  not  before, 

Each  daughter  should  possess  her  part  no  more. 

The  father  died.     The  females  three 

Were  much  in  haste  the  will  to  see. 

They  read  and  read,  but  still 

Saw  not  the  willer's  will. 


400  -LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

For  could  it  well  be  understood 
That  each  of  this  sweet  sisterhood, 
When  she  possessed  her  part  no  more, 
Should  to  her  mother  pay  it  o'er  ? 
'Twas  surely  not  so  easy  saying 
How  lack  of  means  would  help  the  paying. 
What  meant  their  honored  father,  then  ? 
Th'  affair  was  brought  to  legal  men, 
Who,  after  turning  o'er  the  case 
Some  hundred  thousand  different  ways, 
Threw  down  the  learned  bonnet, 
Unable  to  decide  upon  it ; 
And  then  advised  the  heirs, 
Without  more  thought,  t'  adjust  affairs. 
As  to  the  widow's  share,  the  counsel  say, 
We  hold  it  just  the  daughters  each  should  pay 
One  third  to  her  upon  demand, 
Should  she  not  choose  to  have  it  stand 
Commuted  as  a  life  annuity, 
Paid  from  her  husband's  death,  with  due  congruity 
The  thing  thus  ordered,  the  estate 
Is  duly  cut  in  portions  three. 
And  in  the  first  they  all  agree 
To  put  the  feasting-lodges,  plate, 
Luxurious  cooling  mugs, 
Enormous  liquor  jugs, 
Rich  cupboards, — built  beneath  the  trellised  vine, — 
The  stores  of  ancient,  sweet  Malvoisian  wine, 
The  slaves  to  serve  it  at  a  sign  ; 

In  short,  whatever,  in  a  great  house, 
There  is  of  feasting  apparatus 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  401 

The  second  part  is  made 
Of  what  might  help  the  jilting  trade  — 
The  city  house  and  furniture, 
Exquisite  and  genteel,  be  sure, 
The  eunuchs,  milliners,  and  laces, 
The  jewels,  shawls,  and  costly  dresses. 
The  third  is  made  of  household,  stuff, 
More  vulgar,  rude,  and  rough < — 
Farms,  fences,  flocks,  and  fodder, 
And  men  and  beasts  to  turn  the  sod  o'er. 
This  done,  since  it  was  thought 
To  give  the  parts  by  lot 
Might  suit,  or  it  might  not, 
Each  paid  her  share  of  fees  dear, 
And  took  the  part  that  pleased  her. 
'Tvvas  in  great  Athens  town, 
Such  judgment  gave  the  gown. 
And  there  the  public  voice 
Applauded  both  the  judgment  and  the  choice. 
But  iEsop  well  was  satisfied 
The  learned  men  had  set  aside, 
In  judging  thus  the  testament, 
The  very  gist  of  its  intent. 
The  dead,  quoth  he,  could  he  but  know  of  it, 
Would  heap  reproaches  on  such  Attic  wit 
What !  men  who  proudly  take  their  place 
As  sages  of  the  human  race, 
Lack  they  the  simple  skill 
To  settle  such  a  will  ? 
This  said,  he  undertook  himself 
The  task  of  portioning  the  pelf; 


402  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

And  straightway  gave  each  maid  the  part 
The  least  according  to  her  heart  — 
The  prim  coquette,  the  drinking  stuff. 

The  drinker,  then,  the  farms  and  cattle  ; 
And  on  the  miser,  rude  and  rough, 
The  robes  and  lace  did  iEsop  settle ; 
For  thus,  he  said,  an  early  date 
Would  see  the  sisters  alienate 
Their  several  shares  of  the  estate. 
No  motive  now  in  maidenhood  to  tarry, 
They  all  would  seek,  post  haste,  to  marry ; 
And,  having  each  a  splendid  bait, 
Each  soon  would  find  a  well-bred  mate ; 
And,  leaving  thus  their  father's  goods  intact, 
Would  to  their  mother  pay  them  all,  in  fact, — 
Which  of  the  testament 
Was  plainly  the  inient. 
The  people,  who  had  thought  a  slave  an  ass, 
Much  wondered  how  it  came  to  pass 
That  one  alone  should  have  more  sense 
Than  all  their  men  of  most  pretense. 


tt  41  IB  ft  111    is^aiss^a 


THE   SHEPHERD   AND   THE  LION. 


F  fables  judge  not  by  their  face  ; 
They  give  the  simplest  brute  a  teacher's  place. 
Bare  precepts  were  inert  and  tedious  things; 
The  story  gives  them  life  and  wings. 
But  story  for  the  story's  sake 

Were  sorry  business  for  the  wise  ■ 
As  if,  for  pill  that  one  should  taiie 
You  gave  the  sugary  disguise. 


404  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

For  reasons  such  as  these. 
Full  many  writers  great  and  good 
Have  written  in  this  frolic  mood, 
And  made  their  wisdom  please. 
But  tinseled  style  they  all  have  shunned  with  care  ; 
With  them  one  never  sees  a  word  to  spare. 
Of  Phaedrus  some  have  Warned  the  brevity, 
While  JEsop  uses  fewer  words  than  he. 
A  certain  Greek,  however,  beats 
Them  both  in  his  laconic  feats. 
Each  tale  he  locks  in  verses  four ; 
The  well  or  ill  I  leave  to  critic  lore. 
At  iEsop's  side  to  see  him  let  us  aim, 
Upon  a  theme  substantially  the  same. 
The  one  selects  a  lover  of  the  chase  ; 
A  shepherd  comes,  the  other's  tale  to  grace. 
Their  tracks  I  keep,  though  either  tale  may  grow 
A  little  in  its  features  as  I  go. 

The  one  which  iEsop  tells  is  nearly  this :  — 
A  shepherd  from  his  flock  began  to  miss, 
And  longed  to  catch  the  stealer  of  his  sheep. 
Before  a  cavern,  dark  and  deep, 
Where  wolves  retired  by  day  to  sleep, 
Which  he  suspected  as  the  thieves, 
He  set  his  trap  among  the  leaves ; 
And,  ere  he  left  the  place, 
He  thus  invoked  celestial  grace  :  — 
O  king  of  all  the  powers  divine, 
against  the  rogue  but  grant  me  this  delight, 
'1  nat  this  my  trap  may  catch  him  in  my  sight, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  405 

And  I,  from  twenty  calves  of  mine, 

Will  make  the  fattest  thine. 
But  while  the  words  were  on  his  tongue, 
Forth  came  a  lion  great  and  strong. 
Down  crouched  the  man  of  sheep,  and  said, 
With  shivering  fright  half  dead, 
Alas !  that  man  should  never  be  aware 
Of  what  may  be  the  meaning  of  his  prayer ! 
To  catch  the  robber  of  my  flocks, 
O  king  of  gods,  I  pledged  a  calf  to  thee  : 
If  from  his  clutches  thou  wilt  rescue  me, 
I'll  raise  my  offering  to  an  ox. 

'Tis  thus  the  master-author  tells  the  story. 
Now  hear  the  rival  of  his  glory. 


406  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   MEMBERS  AND  THE   BELLY. 

Perhaps,  had  I  but  shown  due  loyalty, 
This  book  would  have  begun  with  royalty, 
Of  which,  in  certain  points  of  view, 
Boss*  Belly  is  the  image  true, 
In  whose  bereavements  all  the  members  share; 
Of  whom  the  latter  once  so  weary  were, 
As  all  due  service  to  forbear, 
On  what  they  called  his  idle  plan 
Resolved  to  play  the  gentleman, 
And  let  his  lordship  live  on  air. 
Like  burden-beasts,  said  they. 
We  sweat  from  day  to  day ; 
And  all  for  whom,  and  what  ? 
Ourselves  we  profit  not. 
Our  labor  has  no  object  but  one, 
That  is,  to  feed  this  lazy  glutton 
We'll  learn  the  resting  trade 
By  his  example's  aid. 

*  A  word  probably  more  familiar  to  hod-carriers  than  tt.  Vr'cog^a 
pliers ;  qu.  derived  from  the  French  bosseman,  or  the  English  boatswain, 
pronounced  bos'n?  It  denotes  a  "master"  of  some  practical  "art." 
Master  Belly,  says  Rabelais,  was  the  first  Master  of  Arts  in  the  world. 
-Ed. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  407 

So  said,  so  done ;  all  labor  ceased ; 
The  hands  refused  to  grasp,  the  arms  to  strike ; 
All  other  members  did  the  like. 
Their  boss  might  labor  if  he  pleased  ! 
It  was  an  error  which  they  soon  repented, 
With  pain  of  languid  poverty  acquainted. 
The  heart  no  more  the  blood  renewed, 
And  hence  repair  no  more  accrued 
To  ever-wasting  strength ; 
Whereby  the  mutineers,  at  length, 
Saw  that  the  idle  belly,  in  its  way, 
Did  more  for  common  benefit  than  they. 

For  royalty  our  fable  makes, 

A  thing  that  gives  as  well  as  takes. 

Its  power  all  labor  to  sustain, 
Nor  for  themselves  turns  out  their  labor  vain. 
It  gives  the  artist  bread,  the  merchant  riches  ; 
Maintains  the  diggers  in  their  ditches* 
Pays  man  of  war  and  magistrate  ; 

Supports  the  swarms  in  place, 

That  live  on  sovereign  grace  ; 
In  short,  is  caterer  for  the  state. 

Menenius  told  the  story  well, 
When  Rome,  of  old,  in  pieces  fell, 

The  commons  parting  from  the  senate. 

The  ills,  said  they,  that  we  complain  at 
Are,  that  the  honors,  treasures,  power,  and  dignity, 

Belong  to  them  alone  ;  while  we 


408 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


Get  nought  our  labor  for 
But  tributes,  taxes,  and  fatigues  of  war. 
Without  the  walls  the  people  had  their  stand 
Prepared  to  march  in  search  of  other  land, 
When  by  this  noted  fable 
Menenius  was  able 
To  draw  them,  hungry,  home 
To  duty  and  to  Rome.* 


*  According  to  our  republican  notions  of  government,  these  people 
were  somewhat  imposed  upon.  Perhaps  the  fable  finds  a  more  appro- 
priate application  in  the  relation  of  employer  to  employed.  1  leave 
the  fabulists  and  the  political  economists  to  settle  the  question  between 
them  — Ed. 


TOE  WOLF  TURNED  SHEPHERD. 


THE  WOLF  TURNED   SHEPHERD. 


A  wolf,  whose  gettings  from  the  flocks 

Began  to  be  but  few, 
Bethought  himself  to  play  the  fox 

In  character  quite  new. 
A  shepherd's  hat  and  coat  he  took, 
A  cudgel  for  a  crook, 
Nor  e'en  the  pipe  forgot ; 
And  more,  to  seem  what  he  was  not, 
Himself  upon  his  hat  he  wrote, 
I'm  Willie,  shepherd  of  these  sheep. 

His  person  thus  complete, 

His  crook  in  upraised  feet, 
The  impostor  Willie  stole  upon  the  keep. 
The  real  Willie,  on  the  grass  asleep, 

Slept  there,  indeed,  profoundly, 
His  dog  and  pipe  slept,  also,  soundly; 

His  drowsy  sheep  around  lay, 

As  for  the  greatest  number. 
Much  blessed  the  hypocrite  their  slumber, 


410 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


And  hoped  to  drive  away  the  flock, 
Could  he  the  shepherd's  voice  but  mock. 

He  thought  undoubtedly  he  could. 
He  tried ;  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke, 

Loud  echoing  from  the  wood, 

The  plot  and  slumber  broke  ; 

Sheep,  dog,  and  man  awoke. 

The  wolf,  in  sorry  plight, 

In  hampering  coat  bedight, 

Could  neither  run  nor  fight. 

There's  always  leakage  of  deceit, 
Which  makes  it  never  safe  to  cheat. 
Whoever  is  a  wolf  had  better 
Keep  clear  of  hypocritic  fetter. 


THE  FROGS   ASKING   A   KING. 


A  certain  commonwealth  aquatic, 
Grown  tired  of  order  democratic, 
By  clamoring  in  the  ears  of  Jove,  erTecteo 
Its  being  to  a  monarch's  power  subjected. 
Jove  flung  it  down,  at  first,  a  king  pacific, 
Who  nathless  fell  with  such  a  splash  terrific, 
The  marshy  folks,  a  foolish  race  and  timid, 
Made  breathless  haste  to  get  from  him  hid. 
They  dived  into  the  mud  beneath  the  water, 
Or  found  among  the  reeds  and  rushes  quarter. 
And  long  it  was  they  dared  not  see 
The  dreadful  face  of  majesty, 
Supposing  that  some  monstrous  frog 
Had  been  sent  down  to  rule  the  bog. 
The  king  was  really  a  log, 
Whose  gravity  inspired  with  awe 

The  first  that,  from  his  hiding-place 
Forth  venturing,  astonished,  saw 
The  royal  blockhead's  face. 


412  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

With  trembling  and  with  fear, 
At  last  he  drew  quite  near. 
Another  followed,  and  another  jet, 
Till  quite  a  crowd  at  last  were  met ; 
Who,  growing  fast  and  strangely  bolder, 
Perched  soon  upon  the  royal  shoulder. 
His  gracious  majesty  kept  still, 
And  let  his  people  work  their  will. 

Clack,  clack  !  what  din  beset  the  ears  of  Jove  ! 

We  want  a  king,  the  people  said,  to  move ! 
The  god  straight  sent  them  down  a  crane, 

Who  caught  and  slew  them  without  measure, 

And  gulped  their  carcasses  at  pleasure ; 
Whereat  the  frogs  more  wofully  complain. 

What !  what !  great  Jupiter  replied  ; 

By  your  desires  must  1  be  tied  ? 

Think  you  such  government  is  bad  ? 

You  should  have  kept  what  first  you  had  ; 

Which  having  blindly  failed  to  do, 

It  had  been  prudent  still  for  you 

To  let  that  former  king  suffice, 

More  meek  and  mild,  if  not  so  wise. 

With  this  now  make  yourselves  content, 

Lest  for  your  sins  a  worse  be  sent. 


Tklb  bOX    AND   THE   GOAT. 


A  fox  once  journeyed,  and  for  company 

A  certain  bearded,  horned  goat  had  he ; 

Which  goat  no  further  than  his  nose  could  see. 

The  fox  was  deeply  versed  in  trickery. 
These  travellers  did  thirst  compel 
To  seek  the  bottom  of  a  well. 
There,  having  drank  enough  for  two, 
Says  fox,  My  friend,  what  shall  we  do  ? 
'Tis  time  that  we  were  thinking 
Of  something  else  than  drinking. 
Raise  you  your  feet  upon  the  wall, 
And  stick  your  horns  up  straight  and  tall; 
Then  up  your  back  I'll  climb  with  ease, 
And  draw  you  after,  if  you  please. 
Yes,  by  my  beard,  the  other  said, 
'Tis  just  the  thing.     I  like  a  head 
Well  stocked  with  sense,  like  thine. 
Had  it  been  left  to  mine, 
I  do  confess, 
1  never  should  have  thought  of  this. 


414 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


So  Renard  clambered  out, 
And,  leaving  there  the  goat, 
Discharged  his  obligations 
By  preaching  thus  on  patience  :  — 
Had  Heaven  put  sense  thy  head  within, 
To  match  the  beard  upon  thy  chin, 
Thou  wouldst  have  thought  a  bit, 
Before  descending  such  a  pit. 
I'm  out  of  it ;  good  by  : 
With  prudent  effort  try 
Yourself  to  extricate. 
For  me,  affairs  of  state 
Permit  me  not  to  wait. 

Whatever  way  you  wend, 
Consider  well  the  end. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  415 


THE  EAGLE,  THE  WILD  SOW,   AND  THE  CAT. 

A  certain  hollow  tree 
Was  tenanted  by  three. 
An  eagle  held  a  lofty  bough, 
The  hollow  root  a  wild  wood  sow, 
A  female  cat  between  the  two. 
All  busy  with  maternal  labors, 
They  lived  awhile  obliging  neighbors. 
At  last  the  cat's  deceitful  tongue 
Broke  up  the  peace  of  old  and  young. 
Up  climbing  to  the  eagle's  nest, 
She  said,  with  whiskered  lips  compressed, 
Our  death,  or,  what  as  much  we  mothers  fear 
That  of  our  helpless  offspring  dear, 

Is  surely  drawing  near. 
Beneath  our  feet,  see  you  not  how 
Destruction's  plotted  by  the  sow  ? 
Her  constant  digging,  soon  or  late, 
Our  proud  old  castle  will  uproot. 
And  then — O,  sad  and  shocking  fate  !  — 
She'll  eat  our  young  ones  as  the  fruit ! 
Were  there  but  hope  of  saving  one, 
'T would  soothe  somewhat  my  bitter  moan. 


416  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Thus  leaving  apprehensions  hideous, 
Down  went  the  puss  perfidious 
To  where  the  sow,  no  longer  digging, 
Was  in  the  very  act  of  pigging. 

Good  friend  and  neighbor,  whispered  she, 
I  warn  you  on  your  guard  to  be. 
Your  pigs  should  you  but  leave  a  minute, 
This  eagle  here  will  seize  them  in  it. 
Speak  not  of  this,  I  beg,  at  all, 
Lest  on  my  head  her  wrath  should  fall. 
Another  breast  with  fear  inspired, 
With  fiendish  joy  the  cat  retired. 
The  eagle  ventured  no  egress 
To  feed  her  young,  the  sow  still  less. 
Fools  they,  to  think  that  any  curse 
Than  ghastly  famine  could  be  worse ! 
Both  staid  at  home,  resolved  and  obstinate, 
To  save  their  young  ones  from  impending  fate,   - 
The  royal  bird  for  fear  of  mine, 
For  fear  of  royal  claws  the  swine. 
All  died,  at  length,  with  hunger, 
The  older  and  the  younger; 
There  staid,  of  eagle  race  or  boar, 
Not  one  this  side  of  death's  dread  door ;  — 
A  sad  misfortune,  which 
The  wicked  cats  made  rich. 
O,  what  is  there  of  hellish  plot 
The  treacherous  tongue  dares  not ! 
Of  all  the  ills  Pandora's  box  outpoured, 
Deceit,  I  think,  is  most  to  be  abhorred. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  417 


THE  CAMEL  AND  THE  FLOATING  STICKS. 

The  first  who  saw  the  humpbacked  camel 

Fled  off  for  life ;  the  next  approached  with  care  ; 
The  third  with  tyrant  rope  did  boldly  dare 
The  desert  wanderer  to  trammel. 

Such  is  the  power  of  use  to  change 
The  face  of  objects  new  and  strange ; 
Which  grow,  by  looking  at,  so  tame, 
They  do  not  even  seem  the  same. 
And  since  this  theme  is  up  for  our  attention, 
A  certain  watchman  I  will  mention, 
Who,  seeing  something  far 
Away  upon  the  ocean, 
Could  not  but  speak  his  notion 
That  'twas  a  ship  of  war. 
Some  minutes  more  had  past,  — 
A  bomb-ketch  'twas  without  a  sail, 
And  then  a  boat,  and  then  a  bale, 
And  floating  sticks  of  wood  at  last ! 

Full  many  things  on  earth,  I  wot, 
Will  claim  this  tale,  —  and  well  they  may; 
They're  something  dreadful  far  away, 

But  near  at  hand  —  they're  not. 


THE  DRUNKARD  AND  HIS  WIFE. 


Each  has  his  fault,  to  which  he  clings 

In  spite  of  shame  or  fear. 
This  apophthegm  a  story  brings, 
To  make  its  truth  more  clear. 
A  sot  had  lost  health,  mind,  and  purse  ; 
And,  truly,  for  that  matter, 
Sots  mostly  lose  the  latter 
Ere  running  half  their  course. 
When  wine,  one  day,  of  wit  had  tilled  the  room, 
His  wife  enclosed  him  in  a  spacious  tomb. 
There  did  the  fumes  evaporate 
At  leisure  from  his  drowsy  pate. 
When  he  awoke,  he  found 
His  body  wrapped  around 
With  grave-clothes,  chill  and  damp, 
Beneath  a  dim,  sepulchral  lamp. 
How  's  this  ?     My  wife  a  widow  sad  ?' 
He  cried,  and  I  a  ghost  ?     Dead  ?  dead  t 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  419 

Thereat  his  spouse,  with  snaky  hair, 
And  robes  like  those  the  Furies  wear, 
With  voice  to  fit  the  realms  below, 

Brought  boiling  caudle  to  his  bier  — 

For  Lucifer  the  proper  cheer  ; 
By  which  her  husband  came  to  know  — 
For  he  had  heard  of  those  three  ladies  — 
Himself  a  citizen  of  Hades. 

What  may  your  office  be  ? 

The  phantom  questioned  he. 
I'm  server  up  of  Pluto's  meat, 
And  bring  his  guests  the  same  to  eat. 
Well,  says  the  sot,  not  taking  time  to  think, 
And  don't  you  bring  us  any  thing  to  drink  ? 


420  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  GOUT   AND   THE  SPIDER. 

When  Nature  angrily  turned  out 
Those  plagues,  the  spider  and  the  gout, — 
See  you,  said  she,  those  huts  so  meanly  built, 
These  palaces  so  grand  and  richly  gilt  ? 
By  mutual  agreement  fix 
Your  choice  of  dwellings  ;  or  if  not, 
To  end  th'  affair  by  lot, 
Draw  out  these  little  sticks. 
The  huts  are  not  for  me,  the  spider  cried  ; 

And  not  for  me  the  palace,  cried  the  gout; 
For  there  a  sort  of  men  she  spied 
Called  doctors,  going  in  and  out, 
From  whom  she  could  not  hope  for  ease. 
So  hied  her  to  the  huts  the  fell  disease, 
And,  fastening  on  a  poor  man's  toe, 
Hoped  there  to  fatten  on  his  woe, 
And  torture  him,  fit  after  fit, 
Without  a  summons  e'er  to  quit, 

From  old  Hippocrates. 
The  spider,  on  the  lofty  ceiling, 
As  if  she  had  a  life-lease  feeling, 
Wove  wide  her  cunning  toils, 
Soon  rich  with  insect  spoils. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  421 

A  maid  destroyed  them  as  she  swept  the  room 
Repaired,  again  they  felt  the  fatal  broom. 
The  wretched  creature,  every  day, 
From  house  and  home  must  pack  away. 
At  last,  her  courage  giving  out, 
She  went  to  seek  her  sister  gout, 

And  in  the  field  descried  her, 
Quite  starved  :  more  evils  did  betide  her 
Than  e'er  befell  the  poorest  spider  — 
Her  toiling  host  enslaved  her  so, 
And  made  her  chop,  and  dig,  and  hoe ! 

(Says  one,  Kept  brisk  and  busy, 

The  gout  is  made  half  easy.) 
O,  when,  exclaimed  the  sad  disease, 

Will  this  my  misery  stop? 
O,  sister  spider,  if  you  please, 

Our  places  let  us  swop. 

The  spider  gladly  heard, 

And  took  her  at  her  word, — 
And  flourished  in  the  cabin-lodge, 
Not.  forced  the  tidy  broom  to  dodge. 
The  gout,  selecting  her  abode 

With  an  ecclesiastic  judge, 
Turned  judge  herself,  and,  by  her  code, 

He  from  his  couch  no  more  could  budge. 
The  salves  and  cataplasms  Heaven  knows, 
That  mocked  the  misery  of  his  toes  ; 
While  aye,  without  a  blush,  the  curse 
Kept  driving  onward,  worse  and  worse. 
Needless  to  say,  the  sisterhood 
Thought  their  exchange  both  wise  and  good. 


422  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  FLY   AND   THE   ANT. 

A  fly  and  ant  upon  a  sunny  bank, 
Discussed  the  question  of  their  rank. 

0  Jupiter !  the  former  said, 
Can  love  of  self  so  turn  the  head, 

That  one  so  mean  and  crawling, 

And  of  so  low  a  calling, 
To  boast  equality  shall  dare 
With  me,  the  daughter  of  the  air  ? 
In  palaces  I  am  a  guest, 
And  even  at  thy  glorious  feast. 
Whene'er  the  people  that  adore  thee 

May  immolate  for  thee  a  bullock, 
I'm  sure  to  taste  the  meat  before  thee. 

MeanwThile  this  starveling,  in  her  hillock, 
Is  living  on  some  bit  of  straw 
Which  she  has  labored  home  to  draw. 
But  tell  me  now,  my  little  thing, 
Do  you  camp  ever  on  a  king, 
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 
To  make  a  case  about  vour  grain. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  423 

Well,  have  you  done  ?  replied  the  an  . 

You  enter  palaces,  I  grant, 

And  for  it  get  right  soundly  cursed. 

Of  sacrifices,  rich  and  fat, 
Your  taste,  quite  likely,  is  the  first ;  — 

Are  they  the  better  off  for  that? 
You  enter  with  the  holy  train  ; 
So  enters  many  a  wretch  profane. 
On  heads  of  kings  and  asses  you  may  squat , 
Deny  your  vaunting  —  I  will  not ; 
But  well  such  impudence,  I  know, 
Provokes  a  sometimes  fatal  blow. 
The  name  in  which  your  vanity  delights 
Is  owned  as  well  by  parasites, 
And  spies  that  die  by  ropes  —  as  you  soon  will 
By  famine  or  by  ague-chill, 

When  Phoebus  goes  to  cheer 

The  other  hemisphere,  — 
The  very  time  to  me  most  dear. 

Not  forced  abroad  to  go 

Through  wind,  and  rain,  and  snow, 
My  summer's  work  I  then  enjoy, 
And  happily  my  mind  employ, 
From  care  by  care  exempted. 
By  which  this  truth  I  leave  to  you, 
That  by  two  sorts  of  glory  we  are  tempted. 

The  false  one  and  the  true. 
Work  waits,  time  flies  ;  adieu  :  — 

This  gabble  does  not  fill 

My  granary  or  till. 


424  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES- 


THE  GARDENER  AND   HIS   LORD. 

A  lover  of  gardens,  half  cit  and  half  clown, 

Possessed  a  nice  garden  beside  a  small  town  ; 

And  with  it  a  held  by  a  live  hedge  enclosed, 

Where  sorrel  and  lettuce,  at  random  disposed, 

A  little  of  jasmine,  and  much  of  wild  thyme, 
Grew  gayly,  and  all  in  their  prime 
To  make  up  Miss  Peggy's  bouquet, 
The  grace  of  her  bright  wedding  day. 

For  poaching  in  such  a  nice  rield  —  'twas  a  shame; 

A  foraging,  cud-chewing  hare  was  to  blame. 
Whereof  the  good  owner  bore  down 
This  tale  to  the  lord  of  the  town. 

Some  mischievous  animal,  morning  and  night, 

In  spite  of  my  caution,  comes  in  for  his  bite. 

He  laughs  at  my  cunning-set  dead-falls  and  snares; 

For  clubbing  and  stoning  as  little  he  cares. 

I  think  him  a  wizard.     A  wizard  !   the  coot ! 

I'd  catch  him  if  he  were  a  devil  to  boot! 

The  lord  said,  in  haste  to  have  sport  for  his  hounds, 

Pll  clear  him,  1  warrant  you,  out  of  your  grounds; 

To-morrow  I'll  do  it  without  any  fail. 

The  thing  thus  agreed  on,  all  hearty  and  hale, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  425 

The  lord  and  his  party,  at  crack  of  the  dawn, 
With  hounds  at  their  heels  cantered  over  the  lawn. 
Arrived,  said  the  lord  in  his  jovial  mood, 
We'll  breakfast  with  you,  if  your  chickens  are  £Ood. 
That  lass,  my  good  man,  I  suppose  is  your  daughter: 
No  news  of  a  son-in-law  ?     Any  one  sought  her  ? 
No  doubt,  by  the  score.  Keep  an  eye  on  the  docket, 
Eh  ?  Dost  understand  me  ?    T  speak  of  the  pocket. 
So  saying,  the  daughter  he  graciously  greeted, 
And  close  by  his  lordship  he  bade  her  be  seated  ; 
Avowed  himself  pleased  with  so  handsome  a  maid, 
And  then  with  her  kerchief  familiarly  played,  — 
Impertinent  freedoms  the  virtuous  fair 
Repelled  with  a  modest  and  lady-like  air, — 
So  much  that  her  father  a  little  suspected 
The  girl  had  already  a  lover  elected. 
Meanwhile    in    the    kitchen    what    bustling    and 

cooking ! 
For  what  are  your  hams  ?     They  are  very  good 

looking. 
They're  kept  for  your  lordship.  I  take  them,  said  he ; 
Such  elegant  flitches  are  welcome  to  me. 
He  breakfasted  finely; — his  troop,  with  delight, — 
Dogs,  horses,  and  grooms  of  the  best  appetite. 
Thus  he  governed  his  host  in  the  shape  of  a  guest, 
Unbottled  his  wine,  and  his  daughter  caressed. 
To  breakfast,  the  huddle  of  hunters  succeeds, 
The  yelping  of  dogs  and  the  neighing  of  steeds, 
All  cheering  and  fixing  for  wonderful  deeds  ; 
The  horns  and  the  bugles  make  thundering  din  ; 
Much  wonders  our  gardener  what  it  can  mean. 


426  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

The  worst  is,  his  garden  most  wofully  fares ; 
Adieu  to  its  arbors,  and  borders,  and  squares ; 
Adieu  to  its  succory,  onions,  and  leeks; 
Adieu  to  whatever  good  cookery  seeks. 

Beneath  a  great  cabbage  the  hare  was  in  bed, 
Was  started,  and  shot  at,  and  hastily  fled. 
Off  went  the  wild  chase,  with  a  terrible  screech, 
And  not  through  a  hole,  but  a  horrible  breach, 
Which  some  one  had  made,  at  the  beck  of  the  lord, 
Wide  through  the  poor  hedge !     'Twould  have  been 

quite  absurd 
Should  lordship  not  freely  from  garden  go  out, 
On  horseback,  attended  by  rabble  and  rout. 

Scarce  suffered  the  gard'ner  his  patience  to  wince, 
Consoling  himself — 'Twas  the  sport  of  a  prince; 
While  bipeds  and  quadrupeds  served  to  devour, 
And  trample,  and  waste,  in  the  space  of  an  hour, 
Far  more  than  a  nation  of  foraging  hares 
Could  possibly  do  in  a  hundred  of  years. 

Small  princes,  this  story  is  true, 

When  told  in  relation  to  you. 
In  settling  your  quarrels  with  kings  for  your  tools, 
You  prove  yourselves  losers  and  eminent  fools. 


THE  ASS  AND  THE  LITTLE  DOG. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  427 


THE  ASS  AND  THE  LITTLE  DUG. 

One's  native  talent  from  its  course 

Cannot  be  turned  aside  by  force  ; 

But  poorly  apes  the  country  clown 

The  polished  manners  of  the  town. 

Their  Maker  chooses  but  a  few 

With  power  of  pleasing  to  imbue ; 

Where  wisely  leave  it  we,  the  mass,  — 

Unlike  a  certain  fabled  ass, 
That  thought  to  gain  his  master's  blessing 
By  jumping  on  him  and  caressing. 

What!  said  the  donkey  in  his  heart ; 

Ought  it  to  be  that  puppy's  part 
To  lead  his  useless  life 

In  full  companionship 
With  master  and  his  wife, 
While  I  must  bear  the  whip  ? 

What  doth  the  cur  a  kiss  to  draw  ? 

Forsooth,  he  only  gives  his  paw ! 

If  that  is  all  there  needs  to  please, 

I'll  do  the  thing  myself,  with  ease 


428  ^  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Possessed  with  this  bright  notion,— 
His  masjter  sitting  on  his  chair, 
At  leisure  in  the  open  air,  — 

He  ambled  up,  with  awkward  motion, 
And  put  his  talents  to  the  proof; 
Upraised  his  bruised  and  battered  hoof, 
And,  with  an  amiable  mien, 
His  master  patted  on  the  chin, 
The  action  gracing  with  a  word  — 
The  fondest  bray  that  e'er  was  heard ! 
O,  such  caressing  was  there  ever  ? 
Or  melody  with  such  a  quaver? 

Ho  !  Martin  !  here  !  a  club,  a  club  bring! 
Out  cried  the  master,  sore  offended. 

So  Martin  gave  the  ass  a  drubbing,  — 
And  so  the  comedy  was  ended. 


THE   BATTLE  OF  THE  RAJ'S   AND   THE   WEASEU3 

The  weasels  live,  no  more  than  cats, 
On  terms  of  friendship  with  the  rats ; 
And,  were  it  not  that  these 
Through  doors  contrive  to  squeeze 
Too  narrow  for  their  foes, 
The  animals  long-snouted 
Would  long  ago  have  routed, 
And  from  the  planet  scouted, 
Their  race,  as  I  suppose. 

One  year  it  did  betide, 

Wlien  they  were  multiplied, 

An  army  took  the  field 

Of  rats,  with  spear  and  shield, 

Whose  crowded  ranks  led  on 

A  king  named  Ratapon. 

The  weasels,  too,  their  banner 
Unfurled  in  warlike  manner. 


430  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

As  Fame  her  trumpet  sounds, 

The  victory  balanced  well ; 

Enriched  were  fallow  grounds 

Where  slaughtered  legions  fell  t 
But  by  said  trollop's  tattle, 
The  loss  of  life  in  battle 
Thinned  most  the  rattish  race 
In  almost  every  place  ; 
And  finally  their  rout 
Was  total,  spite  of  stout 
Artarpax  and  Psicarpax, 
And  valiant  Meridarpax,* 
Who,  covered  o'er  with  dust. 
Long  time  sustained  their  host 
Down  sinking  on  the  plain. 
Their  efforts  were  in  vain ; 
Fate  ruled  that  final  hour, 
(Inexorable  power!). 
And  so  the  captains  fled 
As  well  as  those  they  led ; 
The  princes  perished  all. 
The  undistinguished  small 
In  certain  holes  found  shelter, 
In-crowding,  helter  skelter; 
But  the  nobility 
Could  not  go  in  so  free, 
Who  proudly  had  assumed 
Each  one  a  helmet  plumed  ;  — 

*  Names  of  rats,  invented  by  Homer. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  431 

We  know  not,  truly,  whether 
For  honor's  sake  the  feather, 
Or  foes  to  strike  with  terror; 
But,  truly,  'twas  their  error. 
Nor  hole,  nor  crack,  nor  crevice 

Will  let  their  head-gear  in  ; 
While  meaner  rats  in  bevies 

An  easy  passage  win  ;  — 
So  that  the  shafts  of  fate 
Do  chiefly  hit  the  great. 

A  feather  in  the  cap 
Is  oft  a  great  mishap. 
An  equipage  too  grand 
Comes  often  to  a  stand 
Within  a  narrow  place. 
The  small,  whate'er  the  case, 
With  ease  slip  through  a  strait, 
Where  larger  folks  must  wait. 


y^>r 


THE   MONKEY    AND  THE   DOLFHIN. 

It  was  a  custom  of  the  Greeks 

For  passengers  o'er  sea  to  carry 
Both  monkeys  full  of  tricks 

And  funny  dogs  to  make  them  merry. 
A  ship,  that  had  such  things  on  deck, 
Not  far  from  Athens,  went  to  wreck. 
But  for  the  dolphins,  all  had  drowned. 

They  are  a  philanthropic  fish, 
Which  fact  in  Pliny  may  be  found ;  — 

A  better  voucher  who  could  wish  ? 
They  did  their  best  on  this  occasion. 

A  monkey  even,  on  their  plan, 
Well  nigh  attained  his  own  salvation  ; 

A  dolphin  took  him  for  a  man, 
And  on  his  dorsal  gave  him  place. 
So  grave  the  silly  creature's  face 
That  one  might  well  have  set  him  down 
That  old  musician  of  renown.* 


Arlon. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  433 

The  fish  had  almost  reached  the  land, 

When,  as  it  happened,  —  what  a  pity!  — 
He  asked,  Are  you  from  Athens  grand  ? 

Yes ;  well  they  know  me  in  that  city. 
If  ever  you  have  business  there, 

I'll  help  you  do  it,  for  my  kin 

The  highest  offices  are  in. 
My  cousin,  sir,  is  now  lord  mayor. 
The  dolphin  thanked  him,  with  good  grace, 
Both  for  himself  and  all  his  race, 
And  asked,  You  doubtless  know  Piraeus, 
Where,  should  we  come  to  town,  you'll  see 'us  ; 
Piraeus  ?    yes,  indeed  I  know  ; 
He  was  my  crony  long  ago. 
The  dunce  knew  not  the  harbor's  name, 
And  for  a  man's  mistook  the  same. 

The  people  are  by  no  means  few, 
Who  never  went  ten  miles  from  home, 
Nor  know  their  market-town  from  Rome, 

Yet  cackle  just  as  if  they  knew. 
The  dolphin  laughed,  and  then  began 
His  rider's  form  and  face  to  scan, 
And  found  himself  about  to  save 
From  fishy  feasts,  beneath  the  wave, 
A  mere  resemblance  of  a  man. 
So,  plunging  down,  he  turned  to  find 
Some  drowning  wight  of  human  kind 


434  LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

THE  MAN  AND  THE  WOODEN   GOD. 

A  pagan  kept  a  god  of  wood,  — 

A  sort  that  never  hears, 

Though  furnished  well  with  ears,  — 
From  which  he  hoped  for  wondrous  good. 
The  idol  cost  the  board  of  three  ; 

So  much  enriched  was  he 

With  vows  and  offerings  vain, 
With  bullocks  garlanded  and  slain  : 

No  idol  ever  had,  as  that, 

A  kitchen  quite  so  full  and  fat. 
But  all  this  worship  at  his  shrine 
Brought  not  from  this  same  block  divine 
Inheritance,  or  hidden  mine, 

Or  luck  at  play,  or  any  favor. 

Nay,  more,  if  any  storm  whatever 
Brewed  trouble  here  or  there, 
The  man  was  sure  to  have  his  share, 

And  suffer  in  his  purse, 
Although  the  god  fared  none  the  worse. 
At  last,  by  sheer  impatience  bold, 
The  man  a  crowbar  seizes, 
His  idol  breaks  in  pieces, 
And  finds  it  richly  stuffed  with  gold. 
How's  this  ?     Have  I  devoutly  treated, 
Says  he,  your  godship,  to  be  cheated  ? 
Now  leave  my  house,  and  go  your  way, 
And  search  for  altars  where  you  may. 
You're  like  those  natures,  dull  and  gross, 
From  which  comes  nothing  but  by  blows. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  435 


THE  TWO  BULLS   AND  THE  FROG. 


Two  bulls  engaged  in  shocking  battle, 

Both  for  a  certain  heifer's  sake, 
And  lordship  over  certain  cattle; 
A  frog  began  to  groan  and  quake. 
But  what  is  this  to  you  ? 
Inquired  another  of  the  croaking  crew. 
Why,  sister,  don't  you  see, 
The  end  of  this  will  be, 
That  one  of  these  big  brutes  will  yield, 
And  then  be  exiled  from  the  field  ? 
No  more  permitted  on  the  grass  to  feed, 
He'll  forage,  through  our  marsh,  on  rush  and  reed ; 
And,  while  he  eats  or  chews  the  cud, 
Will  trample  on  us  in  the  mud. 
Alas  !  to  think  how  frogs  must  suffer 
By  means  of  this  proud  lady  heifer  ! 
This  fear  was  not  without  good  sense. 
One  bull  was  beat,  and  much  to  their  expense ; 
For,  quick  retreating  to  their  reedy  bower, 
He  trod  on  twenty  of  them  in  an  hour. 

Of  little  folks  it  oft  has  been  the  fate 
To  suffer  for  the  follies  of  the  great. 


436  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  FROG   AND  THE  RAT. 

They  to  bamboozle  are  inclined, 

Saith  Merlin,  who  bamboozled  are. 
The  word,  though  rather  unrefined, 
Has  jet  an  energy  we  ill  can  spare ; 
So  by  its  aid  I  introduce  my  tale. 
A  well-fed  rat,  rotund  and  hale, 
Not  knowing  either  Fast  or  Lent, 
Disporting  round  a  frog-pond  went. 
A  frog  approached,  and,  with  a  friendly  greeting, 

Invited  him  to  see  her  at  her  home, 
And  pledged  a  dinner  worth  his  eating,  — 

To  which  the  rat  was  nothing  loath  to  come 
Of  words  persuasive  there  was  little  need  : 
She  spoke,  however,  of  a  grateful  bath ; 
Of  sports  and  curious  wonders  on  their  path; 
Of  rarities  of  flower,  and  rush,  and  reed  : 
One  day  he  would  recount  with  glee 
To  his  assembled  progeny 
The  various  beauties  of  these  places, 
The  customs  of  the  various  races, 
And  laws  that  sway  the  realms  aquatic, 
(She  did  not  mean  the  hydrostatic !) 
One  thing  alone  the  rat  perplexed,  — 
He  was  but  moderate  as  a  swimmer. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  437 

The  frog  this  matter  nicely  fixed 
By  kindly  lending  him  her 

Long  paw,  which  with  a  rush  she  tied 

To  his ;  and  off  they  started,  side  by  side. 

Arrived  upon  the  lakelet's  brink, 

There  was  but  little  time  to  think. 
The  frog  leaped  in,  and  almost  brought  her 
Bound  guest  to  land  beneath  the  water. 

Perfidious  breach  of  law  and  right ! 
She  meant  to  have  a  supper  warm 
Out  of  his  sleek  and  dainty  form. 

Already  did  her  appetite 

Dwell  on  the  morsel  with  delight. 

The  gods,  in  anguish,  he  invokes ; 

His  faithless  hostess  rudely  mocks; 

He  struggles  up,  she  struggles  down. 
A  kite,  that  hovers  in  the  air, 
Inspecting  every  thing  with  care, 

Now  spies  the  rat  belike  to  drown, 
And,  with  a  rapid  wing, 
Upbears  the  wretched  thing, 

The  frog,  too,  dangling  by  the  string  ! 

The  joy  of  such  a  double  haul 

Was  to  the  hungry  kite  not  small. 

It  gave  him  all  that  he  could  wish  — 

A  double  meal  of  flesh  and  fish. 

The  best  contrived  deceit 

Can  hurt  its  own  contriver, 
And  perfidy  doth  often  cheat 

Its  author's  purse  of  every  stiver. 


438  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  EARS  OF  THE  HARE. 

Some  beast  with  horns  did  gore 

The  lion  :  and  that  sovereign  dread, 
Resolved  to  suffer  so  no  more, 

Straight  banished  from  his  realm,  'tis  said, 
All  sorts  of  beasts  with  horns  — 
Ptams,  bulls,  goats,  stags,  and  unicorns. 
Such  brutes  all  promptly  fled. 
A  hare,  the  shadow  of  his  ears  perceiving, 

Could  hardly  help  believing 
That  some  vile  spy  for  horns  would  take  them, 
And  food  for  accusation  make  them. 
Adieu,  said  he,  my  neighbor  cricket ; 
I  take  my  foreign  ticket. 
My  ears,  should  I  stay  here, 
Will  turn  to  horns,  I  fear  ; 
And  were  they  shorter  than  a  bird's, 
I  fear  the  effect  of  words. 
These  horns  !  the  cricket  answered  ;  why, 
God  made  them  ears ;  who  can  deny  ? 
ires,  said  the  coward,  still  they'll  make  them  horns, 
And  horns,  perhaps,  of  unicorns! 

In  vain  shall  I  protest, 
With  all  the  learning  of  the  schools; 
My  reasons  they  will  send  to  rest 
In  th'  Hospital  of  Fools. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  439 


THE  ANIMALS  SENDING  TRIBUTE  TO  ALEXANDER 

A  fable  flourished  with  antiquity 
Whose  meaning  1  could  never  clearly  see. 
Kind  reader,  draw  the  moral  if  you're  able ; 
I  give  you  here  the  naked  fable. 
Fame  having  bruited  that  a  great  commander, 
A  son  of  Jove,  a  certain  Alexander, 
Resolved  to  leave  nought  free  on  this  our  ball, 
Had  to  his  footstool  gravely  summoned  all 
Men,  quadrupeds,  and  nullipeds,  together 
With  all  the  bird-republics,  every  feather.  — 
The  goddess  of  the  hundred  mouths,  I  say, 
Thus  having  spread  dismay, 
By  widely  publishing  abroad 
This  mandate  of  the  demigod, 
The  animals,  and  all  that  do  obey 
Their  appetite  alone,  mistrusted  now 
That  to  another  sceptre  they  must  bow 
Far  in  the  desert  met  their  various  races, 
All  gathering  from  their  hiding-places. 
Discussed  was  many  a  notion. 
At  last,  it  was  resolved,  on  motion, 


440  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

To  pacify  the  conquering  banner, 

By  sending  homage  in,  and  tribute. 
With  both  the  homage  and  its  manner 

They  charged  the  monkey,  as  a  glib  brute ; 
And,  lest  the  chap  should  too  much  chatter, 
In  black  on  white  they  wrote  the  matter. 

Nought  but  the  tribute  served  to  fash, 

As  that  must  needs  be  paid  in  cash. 

A  prince,  who  chanced  a  mine  to  own, 

At  last,  obliged  them  with  a  loan. 
The  mule  and  ass,  to  bear  the  treasure, 
Their  service  tendered,  full  of  pleasure; 
And  then  the  caravan  was  none  the  worse, 
Assisted  by  the  camel  and  the  horse. 

Forthwith  proceeded  all  the  four 

Behind  the  new  ambassador, 
And  saw,  erelong,  within  a  narrow  place, 
Monseigneur  Lion's  quite  unwelcome  face. 

Well  met,  and  all  in  time,  said  he  ; 

Myself  your  fellow-traveller  will  be. 

I  went  my  tribute  by  itself  to  bear ; 

And  though  'tis  light,  I  well  might  spare 
The  unaccustomed  load. 

Take  each  a  quarter,  if  you  please, 

And  I  will  guard  you  on  the  road, 
More  free  and  at  my  ease  — 

In  better  plight,  you  understand, 

To  fight  with  any  robber  band. 
A  lion  to  refuse,  the  fact  is, 
Is  not  a  very  usual  practice: 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  441 

So  in  he  comes,  for  better  and  for  worse 

Whatever  he  demands  is  done, 

And,  spite  of  Jove's  heroic  son, 
He  fattens  freely  from  the  public  purse. 

While  wending  on  their  way, 

They  found  a  spot,  one  day, 
With  waters  hemmed,  of  crystal  sheen  ; 
Its  carpet,  flower-besprinkled  green; 

Where  pastured  at  their  ease 
Both  flocks  of  sheep  and  dainty  heifers, 

And  played  the  cooling  breeze  — 
The  native  land  of  all  the  zephyrs. 

No  sooner  is  the  lion  there 
Than  of  some  sickness  he  complains. 

Says  he,  You  on  your  mission  fare. 
A  fever,  with  its  thirst  and  pains, 
Dries  up  my  blood,  and  bakes  my  brains; 

And  I  must  search  some  herb, 

Its  fatal  power  to  curb. 
For  you,  there  is  no  time  to  waste  ; 
Pay  me  my  money,  and  make  haste. 

The  treasures  were  unbound, 

And  placed  upon  the  ground. 
Then,  with  a  look  which  testified 
His  royal  joy,  the  lion  cried, 
My  coins,  good  heavens,  have  multiplied  ! 
And  see  the  young  ones  of  the  gold 
As  big  already  as  the  old ! 
The  increase  belongs  to  me,  no  doubt , 
Ana  eagerlv  he  took  it  out! 


442  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

'Twas  little  staid  beneath  the  lid  ; 
The  wonder  was  that  any  did. 
Confounded  were  the  monkey  and  his  suite, 
And,  dumb  with  fear,  betook  them  to  their  way, 
And  bore  complaint  to  Jove's  great  son,  they  say  — 
Complaint  without  a  reason  meet ; 
For  what  could  he  ?     Though  a  celestial  scion, 
He  could  but  fight,  as  lion  versus  lion. 

When  corsairs  battle,  Turk  with  Turk, 
They're  not  about  their  proper  work. 


THE  ASS  CARRYING   RELICS. 

An  ass,  with  relics  for  his  load, 
Supposed  the  worship  on  the  road 

Meant  for  himself  alone, 
And  took  on  lofty  airs, 

Receiving  as  his  own, 

The  incense  and  the  prayers. 
Some  one,  who  saw  his  great  mistake, 
Cried,  Master  Donkey,  do  not  make 

Yourself  so  big  a  fool. 
Not  you  they  worship,  but.  your  pack  ; 
They  praise  the  idols  on  your  back, 

And  count  yourself  a  paltry  tool. 

'Tis  thus  a  brainless  magistrate 
Is  honored  for  his  robe  of  state. 


^jxiums  »ai 


THE   GRASSHOPPER    AND   THE   ANT. 


-  *:\, 


grasshopper  gay 
Sang  the  summer  away, 
And  found  herself  poor 
By  the  winter's  first  roar. 
Of  meat  or  of  bread, 
Not  a  morsel  she  had ; 
So  a  begging  she  went, 
To  her  neighbor  the  ant, 


444 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


For  the  loan  of  some  wheat, 

Which  would  serve  her  to  eat 
Till  the  season  came  round. 

I  will  pay  you,  she  saith, 

On  an  animal's  faith. 
Double  weight  in  the  pound 
Ere  the  harvest  be  bound. 

The  ant  is  a  friend 

(And  here  she  might  mend) 

Little  given  to  lend. 
How  spent  you  the  summer  ? 

Quoth  she,  looking  shame 

At  the  borrowing  dame. 
Night  and  day  to  each  comer 

I  sang,  if  you  please. 

You  sang !   I'm  at  ease  ; 
For  'tis  plain  at  a  glance, 
Now,  ma'am,  you  must  dance. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  445 


THE  SICK  STAG. 

A  stag,  where  stags  abounded, 
Fell  sick,  and  was  surrounded 
Forthwith  by  comrades  kind, 
All  pressing  to  assist, 
Or  see,  their  friend,  at  least, 
And  ease  his  anxious  mind  — 
An  irksome  multitude. 
Ah,  sirs !  the  sick  was  fain  to  cry, 
Pray  leave  me  here  to  die, 

As  others  do,  in  solitude. 
Pray,  let  your  kind  attentions  cease, 
Till  death  my  spirit  shall  release. 
But  comforters  are  not  so  sent : 
On  duty  sad  full  long  intent, 
When  Heaven  pleased,  they  went, 
But  not  without  a  friendly  glass ; 
That  is  to  say,  they  cropped  the  grass 
And  leaves  which  in  that  quarter  grew, 
From  which  the  sick  his  pittance  drew. 
By  kindness  thus  compelled  to  fast, 
He  died  for  want  of  food  at  last. 
The  men  take  off  no  trifling  dole 
Who  heal  the  body  or  the  soul. 
Alas  the  times !  do  what  we  will, 
They  have  their  payment,  cure  or  kill. 


446  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   WOLF,  THE  GOAT,  AND  THE  KID. 

As  went  the  goat  her  pendent  dugs  to  fill, 
And  browse  the  herbage  of  a  distant  hill, 
She  latched  her  door,  and  bid, 
With  matron  care,  her  kid ;  — 
My  daughter,  as  you  live, 
This  portal  don't  undo 
To  any  creature  who 
This  watchword  does  not  give  : 
"  Deuce  take  the  wolf  and  all  his  race  !  M 
The  wolf  was  passing  near  the  place 
By  chance,  and  heard  the  words  with  pleasure, 
And  laid  them  up  as  useful  treasure ; 
And,  hardly  need  we  mention, 
Escaped  the  goat's  attention. 
No  sooner  did  he  see 
The  matron  off,  than  he, 
With  hypocritic  tone  and  face, 
Cried  out  before  the  place, 
"  Deuce  take  the  wolf  and  all  his  race  !  " 


LA  FONTAINE  S  FABLES.  447 

Not  doubting  thus  to  gain  admission. 
The  kid,  not  void  of  all  suspicion, 
Peered  through  a  crack,  and  cried, 

Show  me  white  paw  before 

You  ask  me  to  undo  the  door. 
The  wolf  could  not,  if  he  had  died, 

For  wolves  have  no  connection 

With  paws  of  that  complexion. 
So,  much  surprised,  our  gormandizer 
Retired  to  fast  till  he  was  wiser. 
How  would  the  kid  have  been  undone 

Had  she  but  trusted  to  the  word 

The  wolf  by  chance  had  overheard ! 
Two  sureties  better  are  than  one  ; 

And  caution's  worth  its  cost, 

Though  sometimes  seeming  lost. 


448  ^A  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  WOLF,  THE  MOTHER,  AND  HER   CHILD. 

This  wolf  another  brings  to  mind, 

Who  found  dame  Fortune  more  unkind, 
In  that  the  greedy,  pirate  sinner, 
Was  balked  of  life  as  well  as  dinner. 

As  saith  our  tale,  a  villager 

Dwelt  in  a  by,  unguarded  place  ; 

There,  hungry,  watched  our  pillager 
For  luck  and  chance  to  mend  his  case. 

For  there  his  thievish  eyes  had  seen 

All  sorts  of  game  go  out  and  in  — 

Nice  sucking  calves,  and  lambs,  and  sheep , 
And  turkeys  by  the  regiment, 
With  steps  so  proud,  and  necks  so  bent, 

They'd  make  a  daintier  glutton  weep. 

The  thief  at  length  began  to  tire 

Of  being  gnawed  by  vain  desire. 

Just  then  a  child  set  up  a  cry : 

Be  still,  the  mother  said,  or  I 

Will  throw  you  to  the  wolf,  you  brat ! 

Ha,  ha !   thought  he,  what  talk  is  that  ? 

The  gods  be  thanked  for  luck  so  good ! 

And  ready  at  the  door  he  stood, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  449 

When  soothingly  the  mother  said, 

Now  cry  no  more,  my  little  dear; 

That  naughty  wolf,  if  he  comes  here, 
Your  dear  papa  shall  kill  him  dead. 
Humph !  cried  the  veteran  mutton-eater. 

Now  this,  now  that  ?    Now  hot,  now  cool  ? 
Is  this  the  way  they  change  their  metre  ? 

'  And  do  they  take  me  for  a  fool  ? 
Some  day,  a  nutting  in  the  wood, 
That  young  one  yet  shall  be  my  food. 
But  little  time  has  he  to  dote 

On  such  a  feast ;   the  dogs  rush  out 
And  seize  the  caitiff  by  the  throat ; 

And  country  ditchers,  thick  and  stout, 
With  rustic  spears  and  forks  of  iron, 
The  hapless  animal  environ. 
What  brought  you  here,  old  head?  cried  one, 

He  told  it  all,  as  I  have  done. 
Why,  bless  my  soul !  the  frantic  mother  said,— 

You,  villain,  eat  my  little  son  ! 
And  did  I  nurse  the  darling  boy, 
Your  fiendish  appetite  to  cloy  ? 
With  that  they  knocked  him  on  the  head. 
His  feet  and  scalp  they  bore  to  town, 

To  grace  the  seigneur's  hall, 

Where,  pinned  against  the  wall, 
This  verse  completed  his  renown  :  — ' 
"  Ye  honest  wolves,  believe  not  all 
That  mothers  say,  when  children  squall !  " 


/450  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   BITCH   ANJ)   HER   FRIEND. 


A  bitch,  that  felt  her  time  approaching. 

And  had  no  place  for  parturition, 
Went  to  a  female  friend,  and,  broaching 
Her  delicate  condition, 
Got  leave  herself  to  shut 
Within  the  other's  hut. 
At  proper  time  the  lender  came 
Her  little  premises  to  claim. 
The  bitch  crawled  meekly  to  the  door, 
And  humbly  begged  a  fortnight  more. 
Her  little  pups,  she  said,  could  hardly  walk. 
In  short,  the  lender  yielded  to  her  talk. 
The  second  term  expired,  the  friend  had  come 
To  take  possession  of  her  house  and  home*. 
The  bitch,  this  time,  as  if  she  would  have  bit  her 
Replied,  I'm  ready,  madam,  with  my  litter, 
To  go  when  you  can  turn  me  out. 
Her  pups,  you  see,  were  fierce  and  stout. 
The  creditor,  from  whom  a  villain  borrows, 
Will  fewer  shillings  get  again  than  sorrows. 
If  you  have  trusted  people  of  this  sort, 
You'll  have  to  plead,  and  dun,  and  fight;  in  short, 
If  in  your  house  you  let  one  step  a  foot, 
He'll  surely  step  the  other  in  to  boot. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  451 


THE   OLD  MAN   AND  HIS  SONS. 

All  power  is  feeble  with  dissension  : 
For  this  I  quote  the  Phrygian  slave. 

If  aught  J  add  to  his  invention, 
It  is  our  manners  to  engrave, 

And  not  from  any  envious  wishes ;  — 

I'm  not  so  foolishly  ambitious. 

Phaedrus  enriches  oft  his  story, 

In  quest  —  I  doubt  it  not  —  of  glory  ; 

Such  thoughts  were  idle  in  my  breast. 
An  aged  man,  near  going  to  his  rest, 
His  gathered  sons  thus  solemnly  addressed  :  — 
To  break  this  bunch  of  arrows  you  may  try ; 
And,  first,  the  string  that  binds  them  I  untie. 
The  eldest,  having  tried  with  might  and  main, 

Exclaimed,  This  bundle  I  resign 

To  muscles  sturdier  than  mine. 
The  second  tried,  and  bowed  himself  in  vain. 
The  youngest  took  them  with  the  like  success. 
All  were  obliged  their  weakness  to  confess. 
Unharmed  the  arrows  passed  from  son  to  son ; 
Of  all  they  did  not  break  a  single  one. 
Weak  fellows!  said  their  sire,  I  now  must  show 
What  in  the  case  my  feeble  strength  can  do. 


452  -L^A  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

They  laughed,  and  thought  their  father  but  in  joke, 
Till,  one  by  one,  they  saw  the  arrows  broke. 
See  concord's  power,  replied  the  sire  ;  as  long 
As  you  in  love  agree,  you  will  be  strong. 
I  go,  my  sons,  to  join  our  fathers  good  ; 
Now  promise  me  to  live  as  brothers  should, 
And  soothe  by  this  your  dying  father's  fears. 
Each  strictly  promised  with  a  flood  of  tears. 
Their  father  took  them  by  the  hand,  and  died  ; 
And  soon  the  virtue  of  their  vows  was  tried. 

Their  sire  had  left  a  large  estate 

Involved  in  lawsuits  intricate. 

Here  seized  a  creditor,  and  there 

A  neighbor  levied  for  a  share. 

At  first  the  trio  nobly  bore 

The  brunt  of  all  this  legal  war. 

But  short  their  friendship  as  'twas  rare. 
Whom  blood  had  joined  —  and  small  the  wonder!  — 
The  force  of  interest  drove  asunder; 

And,  as  is  wont  in  such  affairs, 

Ambition,  envy,  were  coheirs. 

In  parceling  their  sire's  estate, 

They  quarrel,  quibble,  litigate, 

Each  aiming  to  supplant  the  other. 

The  judge,  by  turns,  condemns  each  brother. 

Their  creditors  make  new  assault, 

Some  pleading  error,  some  default. 

The  sundered  brothers  disagree, 

lor  counsel  one,  have  counsels  three. 
All  lose  their  wealth ;  and  now  their  sorrows 
Bring  fresh  to  mind  those  broken  arrows. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  453 


THE  EYE  OF  THE  MASTER. 

A  stag  took  refuge  from  the  chase 

Among  the  oxen  of  a  stable. 

Who  counseled  him,  as  saith  the  fable, 
To  seek  at  once  some  safer  place. 
My  brothers,  said  the  fugitive, 
Betray  me  not,  and,  as  I  live, 
The  richest  pasture  I  will  show, 
That  e'er  was  grazed  on,  high  or  low ; 
Your  kindness  you  will  not  regret, 
For  well  some  day  I'll  pay  the  debt. 

The  oxen  promised  secrecy. 
Down  crouched  the  stag,  and  breathed  more  free. 
At  eventide  they  brought  fresh  hay, 
As  was  their  custom  day  by  day; 
And  often  came  the  servants  near, 
As  did  indeed  the  overseer, 
But  with  so  little  thought  or  care, 
That  neither  horns,  nor  hide,  nor  hair 
Revealed  to  them  the  stag  was  there. 
Already  thanked  the  wild-wood  stranger 
The  oxen  for  their  treatment  kind, 
And  there  to  wait  made  up  his  mind, 
Till  he  mi°;ht  issue  free  from  danger. 


454  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Replied  an  ox,  that  chewed  the  cud, 
Your  case  looks  fairly  in  the  bud ; 
But  then  I  fear  the  reason  why 
Is,  that  the  man  of  sharpest  eye 
Hath  not  yet  come  his  look  to  take. 
I  dread  his  coming,  for  your  sake ; 
Your  boasting  may  be  premature : 
Till  then,  poor  stag,  you're  not  secure. 
'Twas  but  a  little  while  before 
The  careful  master  oped  the  door. 

How's  this,  my  boys  ?  said  he ; 
These  empty  racks  will  never  do. 
Go,  change  this  dirty  litter  too. 

More  care  than  this  I  want  to  see 

Of  oxen  that  belong  to  me. 
Well,  Jim,  my  boy,  you're  young  and  stout: 
What  would  it  cost  to  clear  these  cobwebs  out  1 
And  put  these  yokes,  and  names,  and  traces, 
All  as  they  should  be,  in  their  places  ? 
Thus  looking  round,  he  came  to  see 
One  head  he  did  not  usually. 

The  stag  is  found ;  his  foes 

Deal  heavily  their  blows. 

Down  sinks  he  in  the  strife  ; 

No  tears  can  save  his  life. 
They  slay,  and  dress,  and  salt  the  beast, 
And  cook  his  flesh  in  many  a  feast, 
And  many  a  neighbor  gets  a  taste. 

As  Phsedrus  says  it,  pithily, 

The  master's  is  the  eye  to  see :  — 

I  add  the  lover's,  as  for  me. 


THE  LARK   AND  HER  YOUNG  ONES,  WITH  THE 
OWNER  OF  A  FIELD. 

"  Depend  upon  yourself  alone, " 

Has  to  a  common  proverb  grown. 
'Tis  thus  confirmed  in  iEsop's  way :  — 
The  larks  to  build  their  nests  are  seen 
Among  the  wheat,  crops  young  and  green  ; 

That  is  to  say, 
What  time  all  things,  dame  Nature  heeding, 
Betake  themselves  to  love  and  breeding  — 
The  monstrous  whales  and  sharks 
Beneath  the  briny  flood, 
The  tigers  in  the  wood, 
And  in  the  fields,  the  larks. 
One  she,  however,  of  these  last, 
Found  more  than  half  the  spring-time  past 
Without  the  taste  of  spring-time  pleasures  ; 
When  firmly  she  set  up  her  will 
That  she  would  be  a  mother  still, 
And  resolutely  took  her  measures ;  — 
First,  got  herself  by  Hymen  matched ; 
Then  built  her  nest,  laid,  sat,  and  hatched 
All  went  as  well  as  such  things  could. 
The  wheat  crop  ripening  ere  the  brood 
Were  strong  enough  to  take  their  flight, 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

Aware  how  perilous  their  plight, 

The  lark  went  out  to  search  for  food, 
And  told  her  young  to  listen  well, 
And  keep  a  constant  sentinel. 
The  owner  of  this  field,  said  she, 
Will  come,  I  know,  his  grain  to  see. 
Hear  all  he  says ;  we  little  birds 
Must  shape  our  conduct  by  his  words. 

No  sooner  was  the  lark  away, 
Than  came  the  owner  with  his  son. 
This  wheat  is  ripe,  said  he :  now  run 
And  give  our  friends  a  call 
To  bring  their  sickles  all, 
•  And  help  us,  great  and  small, 

To-morrow,  at  the  break  of  day. 
The  lark,  returning,  found  no  harm, 
Except  her  nest  in  wild  alarm. 
Says  one,  We  heard  the  owner  say, 

Go,  give  our  friends  a  call 
To  help,  to-morrow,  break  of  day. 

Replied  the  lark,  If  that  is  all, 
We  need  not  be  in  any  fear, 
But  only  keep  an  open  ear. 
As  gay  as  larks,  now  eat  your  victuals.  — 
They  ate  and  slept  —  the  great  and  littles. 
The  dawn  arrives,  but  not  the  friends ; 
The  lark  soars  up,  the  owner  wends 
His  usual  round  to  view  his  land. 
This  grain,  says  he,  ought  not.  to  stand. 
Our  friends  do  wrong ;  and  so  does  he 
Who  trusts  that  friends  will  friendly  be. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  457 

My  son,  go  call  our  kith  and  kin 
To  help  us  get  our  harvest  in. 

This  second  order  made 
The  little  larks  still  more  afraid. 
He  sent  for  kindred,  mother,  by  his  son  ; 
The  work  will  now,  indeed,  be  done. 

No,  darlings  ;   go  to  sleep ; 

Our  lowly  nest  we'll  keep. 
With  reason  said,  for  kindred  there  came  none 
Thus,  tired  of  expectation  vain, 
Once  more  the  owner  viewed  his  grain. 
My  son,  said  he,  we're  surely  fools 
To  wait  for  other  people's  tools ; 
As  if  one  might,  for  love  or  pelf, 
Have  friends  more  faithful  than  himself! 
Engrave  this  lesson  deep,  my  son. 
And  know  you  now  what  must  be  done  ? 
We  must  ourselves  our  sickles  bring, 
And,  while  the  larks  their  matins  sing, 
Begin  the  work  ;  and,  on  this  plan, 
Get  in  our  harvest  as  we  can. 
This  plan  the  lark  no  sooner  knew, 
Than,  Now's  the  time,  she  said,  my  chicks; 
And,  taking  little  time  to  fix, 

Away  they  flew ; 
All,  fluttering,  soaring,  often  grounding, 
Decamped  without  a  trumpet  sounding. 


THE  LITTLE  FISH  AND  THE  FISHER. 


A  little  fish  will  grow, 

If  life  be  spared,  a  great ; 
But  jet  to  let  him  go, 

And  for  his  growing  wait, 
May  not  be  very  wise, 

As  'tis  not  sure  your  bait 
Will  catch  him  when  of  size. 
Upon  a  river  bank,  a  fisher  took 
A  tiny  troutling  from  his  hook. 
Said  he,  'Twill  serve  to  count,  at  least, 
As  the  beginning  of  my  feast ; 
And  so  I'll  put  it  with  the  rest. 
This  little  fish,  thus  caught, 
His  clemency  besought. 
What  will  your  honor  do  with  me  ? 
I'm  not  a  mouthful,  as  you  see. 
Pray  let  me  grow  to  be  a  trout, 
And  then  come  here  and  fish  me  out. 
Some  alderman,  who  likes  things  nice, 
Will  buy  me  then  at  any  price. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  459 

But  now,  a  hundred  such  you'll  have  to  fish, 
To  make  a  single  good-for-nothing  dish. 
Well,  well,  be  it  so,  replied  the  fisher : 
My  little  fish,  who  play  the  preacher, 
The  frying-pan  must  be  your  lot, 
Although,  no  doubt,  you  like  it  not : 
1  fry  the  fry  that  can  be  got. 

in  some  things,  men  of  sense 
Prefer  the  present  to  the  future  tense. 


THE  HEN  WITH  THE  GOLDEN  FGGS. 

How  avarice  loseth  all, 

By  striving  all  to  gain, 
1  need  no  witness  call 

But  him  whose  thrifty  hen, 
As  by  the  fable  we  are  told, 
Laid  every  day  an  egg  of  gold. 
She  hath  a  treasure  in  her  body, 
Bethinks  the  avaricious  noddy. 
He  kills  and  opens  —  vexed  to  find 
All  things  like  hens  of  common  kind. 
Thus  spoiled  the  source  of  all  his  riches, 
To  misers  he  a  lesson  teaches. 

In  these  last  changes  of  the  moon, 

How  often  doth  one  see 

Men  made  as  poor  as  he 
By  force  of  getting  rich  too  soon  ! 


THE  OLD  WOMAN  AND  HER  TWO  SERVANTS 

A  beldam  kept  two  spinning  maids, 
Who  plied  so  handily  their  trades, 
Those  spinning  sisters  down  below 
Were  bunglers  when  compared  with  these. 

No  care  did  this  old  woman  know, 
But  giving  tasks  as  she  might  please. 
No  sooner  did  the  god  of  day 

His  glorious  locks  enkindle, 
Than  both  the  wheels  began  to  play. 

And  from  each  whirling  spindle 
Forth  danced  the  thread  right  merrily, 
And  back  was  coiled  unceasingly.    . 
Soon  as  the  dawn,  I  say,  its  tresses  showed, 
A  graceless  cock,  most  punctual,  crowed. 
The  beldam  roused,  more  graceless  yet, 

In  greasy  petticoat  bedight, 

Struck  up  her  farthing  light, 
And  then  forthwith  the  bed  beset, 
Where  deeply,  blessedly  did  snore 
Those  two  maid-servants,  tired  and  poor. 


THE  FOWL  WITH  THE  GOLDEN  EGGS. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  461 

One  oped  an  eye,  an  arm  one  stretched, 
And  both  their  breath  most  sadly  fetched, 
This  threat  concealing  in  the  sigh  — 
That  cursed  cock  shall  surely  die. 
And  so  he  did  ;  —  they  cut  his  throat, 
And  put  to  sleep  his  rousing  note. 
And  yet  this  murder  mended  not 
The  cruel  hardship  of  their  lot; 
For  now  the  twain  were  scarce  in  bed 
Before  they  heard  the  summons  dread. 
The  beldam,  full  of  apprehension 
Lest  oversleep  should  cause  detention, 
Ran  like  a  goblin  through  her  mansion. 

Thus  often,  when  one  thinks 
To  clear  himself  from  ill, 

His  effort  only  sinks 
Him  in  the  deeper  still. 

The  beldam,  acting  for  the  cock, 

Was  Scylla  for  Chary bdis'  rock. 


462  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  FOX  WITH  HIS  TAIL  CUT  OFF. 

A  cunning  old  fox,  of  plundering  habits, 
Great  crauncher  of  fowls,  great  catcher  of  rabbits, 
Whom  none  of  his  sort  had  caught  in  a  nap, 
Was  finally  caught  in  somebody's  trap. 
By  luck  he  escaped,  not  wholly  and  hale, 
For  the  price  of  his  luck  was  the  loss  of  his  tail. 
Escaped  in  this  way,  to  save  his  disgrace, 
He  thought  to  get  others  in  similar  case. 
One  day  that  the  foxes  in  council  were  met, 
Why  wear  we,  said  he,  this  cumbering  weight, 
Which  sweeps  in  the  dirt  wherever  it  goes? 
Pray  tell  me  its  use,  if  any  one  knows. 
If  the  council  will  take  my  advice, 
We  shall  dock  off  our  tails  in  a  trice. 
Your  advice  may  be  good,  said  one  on  the  ground , 
But,  ere  I  reply,  pray  turn  yourself  round ; 
Whereat  such  a  shout  from  the  council  was  heard, 
Poor  bob-tail,  confounded,  could  say  not  a  word. 
To  urge  the  reform  would  have  wasted  his  breath . 
Long  tails  were  the  mode  till  the  day  of  his  death 


^x. 


DISCORD. 

The  goddess  Discord,  having  made,  on  high, 
Among  the  gods  a  general  grapple, 
And  thence  a  lawsuit,  for  an  apple, 
Was  turned  out,  bag  and  baggage,  from  the  sky. 
The  animal  called  man,  with  open  arms, 
Received  the  goddess  of  such  naughty  charms,*^ 
Herself  and  Whether-or-no,  her  brother, 
With  Thine-and-mine,  her  stingy  mother. 
In  this,  the  lower  universe, 
Our  hemisphere  she  chose  to  curse  : 
For  reasons  good  she  did  not  please 
To  visit  our  antipodes  — 
Folks  rude  and  savage  like  the  beasts, 
Who,  wedding  free  from  forms  and  priests, 
In  simple  tent  or  leafy  bower, 
Make  little  work  for  such  a  power. 
That  she  might  know  exactly  where 
Her  direful  aid  was  in  demand, 
Renown  flew  courier  through  the  land, 
Reporting  each  dispute  with  care ; 
Then  she,  outrunning  Peace,  was  quickly  there ; 


464 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


And  if  she  found  a  spark  of  ire, 
Was  sure  to  blow  it  to  a  fire. 
At  length,  Renown  got  out  of  patience 
At  random  hurrying  o'er  the  nations, 
And,  not  without  good  reason,  thought 
A  goddess,  like  her  mistress,  ought 
To  have  some  fixed  and  certain  home, 
To  which  her  customers  might  come 
For  now  they  often  searched  in  vain. 
With  due  location,  it  was  plain 
She  might  accomplish  vastly  more, 
And  more  in  season  than  before. 
To  find,  howe'er,  the  right  facilities, 
Was  harder  then  than  now  it  is ; 
For  then  there  were  no  nunneries. 

So,  Hymen's  inn  at  last  assigned, 
Thence  lodged  the  goddess  to  her  mind. 


THE  FOX  WITH  HIS  TAIL  CUT  OFF. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  465 


THE  HORSE  AND  THE  WOLF. 

A  wolf,  what  time  the  thawing  breeze 
Renews  the  life  of  plants  and  trees, 
And  beasts  go  forth  from  winter  lair 
To  seek  abroad  their  various  fare,  — 
A  wolf,  I  say,  about  those  days, 
In  sharp  lookout  for  means  and  ways, 
Espied  a  horse  turned  out  to  graze. 
His  joy  the  reader  may  opine. 
Once  got,  said  he,  this  game  were  fine ; 
But  if  a  sheep,  'twere  sooner  mine. 
I  can't  proceed  my  usual  way ; 
Some  trick  must  now  be  put  in  play. 
This  said, 

He  came  with  measured  tread, 
As  if  a  healer  of  disease,  — 
Some  pupil  of  Hippocrates, — 
And  told  the  horse,  with  learned  verbs, 
He  knew  the  power  of  roots  and  herbs,  - 
Whatever  grew  about  those  borders,  — 

And,  not  at  all  to  flatter 

Himself  in  such  a  matter, 

Could  Cure  of  all  disorders. 


466  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

If  he,  Sir  Horse,  would  not  conceal 

The  symptoms  of  his  case, 
He,  Doctor  Wolf,  would  gratis  heal ; 
For  that  to  feed  in  such  a  place, 

And  run  about  untied, 
Was  proof,  itself,  of  some  disease, 

As  all  the  books  decide. 
I  have,  good  doctor,  if  you  please, 
Replied  the  horse,  as  I  presume, 
Beneath  my  foot  an  aposthume. 
My  son,  replied  the  learned  leech, 
That  part,  as  all  our  authors  teach, 
Is  strikingly  susceptible 
Of  ills  which  make  acceptable 
What  you  may  also  have  from  me  — 
The  aid  of  skilful  surgery  ; 
Which  noble  art,  the  fact  is, 
For  horses  of  the  blood  I  practise. 
The  fellow,  with  this  talk  sublime, 
Watched  for  a  snap  the  fitting  time. 
Meanwhile,  suspicious  of  some  trick, 

The  wary  patient  nearer  draws, 
And  gives  his  doctor  such  a  kick, 

As  makes  a  chowder  of  his  jaws. 
Exclaimed  the  wolf,  in  sorry  plight, 
I  own  those  heels  have  served  me  right. 

I  erred  to  quit  my  trade, 
As  I  will  not  in  future. 

Me  nature  surely  made 
For  nothing  but  a  butcher. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  467 


THE  PLOUGHMAN   AND  HIS  SONS. 

The  farmer's  patient  care  and  toil 
Are  oftener  wanting  than  the  soil. 

A  wealthy  ploughman,  drawing  near  his  end, 
Called  in  his  sons,  apart  from  every  friend, 
And  said,  When  of  your  sire  bereft, 
The  heritage  our  fathers  left 
Guard  well,  nor  sell  a  single  field. 
A  treasure  in  it  is  concealed  : 
The  place,  precisely,  I  don't  know, 
But  industry  will  serve  to  show. 
The  harvest  past,  Time's  forelock  take, 
And  search  with  plough,  and  spade,  and  rake 
Turn  over  every  inch  of  sod, 
Nor  leave  unsearched  a  single  clod. 
The  father  died.     The  sons  —  and  not  in  vain  — 
Turned  o'er  the  soil,  and  o'er  again  ; 
That  year  their  acres  bore 
More  grain  than  e'er  before. 
Though  hidden  money  found  they  none, 
Yet  had  their  father  wisely  done, 
To  show,  by  such  a  measure, 
That  toil  itself  is  treasure. 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  PARTRIDGE. 

Beware  how  you  deride 
The  exiles  from  life's  sunny  side : 

To  you  is  little  known 
How  soon  their  case  may  be  your  own. 
On  this,  sage  iEsop  gives  a  tale  or  two, 
As  in  my  verses  I  propose  to  do. 
A  field  in  common  share 
A  partridge  and  a  hare, 
And  live  in  peaceful  state, 
Till,  woful  to  relate, 
The  hunters'  mingled  cry 
Compels  the  hare  to  fly. 
He  hurries  to  his  fort, 
And  spoils  almost  the  sport 
By  faulting  every  hound 
That  yelps  upon  the  ground. 
At  last  his  reeking  heat 
Betrays  his  snug  retreat. 

Old  Tray,  with  philosophic  nose, 

SnufTs  carefully,  and  grows 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

So  certain,  that  he  cries, 

The  hare  is  here  :  bow,  wow  ! 
And  veteran  Ranger  now,  — 
The  dog  that  never  lies,  — 
The  hare  is  gone,  replies. 
Alas  !    poor,  wretched  hare, 
Back  comes  he  to  his  lair, 
To  meet  destruction  there ! 
The  partridge,  void  of  fear, 
Begins  her  friend  to  jeer:  — 
You  bragged  of  being  fleet ; 
How  serve  you,  now,  jour  feet  ? 
Scarce  has  she  ceased  to  speak,  — 
The  laugh  yet  in  her  beak,  — 
When  comes  her  turn  to  die. 
From  which  she  could  not  fly. 
She  thought  her  wings,  indeed, 
Enough  for  every  need ; 
But,  in  her  laugh  and  talk, 
Forgot  the  cruel  hawk  i 


470  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  EAGLE  AND  THE  OWL. 

The  eagle  and  the  owl,  resolved  to  cease 
Their  war,  embraced  in  pledge  of  peace. 
On  faith  of  king,  on  faith  of  owl,  they  swore 
That  they  would  eat  each  other's  chicks  no  moie. 

But  know  you  mine  ?  said  Wisdom's  bird. 
Not  I,  indeed,  the  eagle  cried. 
The  worse  for  that,  the  owl  replied : 

I  fear  your  oath  's  a  useless  word ; 
I  fear  that  you,  as  king,  will  not 
Consider  duly  who  or  what : 

You  kings  and  gods,  of  what 's  before  ye, 

Are  apt  to  make  one  category. 

Adieu,  my  young,  if  you  should  ment  them ! 

Describe  them,  then,  or  let  me  greet  them, 

And,  on  my  life,  I  will  not  eat  them, 

The  eagle  said.     The  owl  replied, 

My  little  ones,  I  say  with  pride, 

For  grace  of  form  cannot  be  matched,  — 

The  prettiest  birds  that  e'er  were  hatched  * 

By  this  you  cannot  fail  to  know  them ; 

?Tis  needless,  therefore,  that  I  show  them. 


THE    EAGLE    AND    THE    OWL. 


LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  471 

Pray  don't  forget,  but  keep  this  mark  in  view, 
Lest  fate  should  eurse  my  happy  nest  by  you. 
At  length  God  gives  the  owl  a  set  of  heirs, 
And  while  at  early  eve  abroad  he  fares, 
In  quest  of  birds  and  mice  for  food, 
Our  eagle  haply  spies  the  brood, 
As  on  some  craggy  rock  they  sprawl, 
Or  nestle  in  some  ruined  wall, 
(But  which  it  matters  not  at  all,) 
And  thinks  them  ugly  little  frights, 
Grim,  sad,  with  voice  like  shrieking  sprites. 
These  chicks,  says  he,  with  looks  almost  infernal, 
Can't  be  the  darlings  of  our  friend  nocturnal. 
I'll  sup  of  them.     And  so  he  did,  not  slightly  :  — 
He  never  sups,  if  he  can  help  it,  lightly. 
The  owl  returned  ;  and,  sad,  he  found 
Nought  left  but  claws  upon  the  ground. 
He  prayed  the  gods  above  and  gods  below 
To  smite  the  brigand  who  had  caused  his  woe. 
Quoth  one,  On  you  alone  the  blame  must  fall ; 
Or  rather  on  the  law  of  nature, 
Which  wills  that  every  earthly  creature 
Shall  think  its  like  the  loveliest  of  all. 
You  told  the  eagle  of  your  young  ones'  graces ; 
You  gave  the  picture  of  their  faces:  — 
Had  it  of  likeness  any  traces? 


THE  LION   GOING  TO  WAK. 

The  lion  had  an  enterprise  in  hand ; 

Held  a  war-council,  sent  his  provost-marshal, 
And  gave  the  animals  a  call  impartial  — 

Each,  in  his  way,  to  serve  his  high  command. 
The  elephant  should  carry  on  his  back 
The  tools  of  war,  the  mighty  public  pack, 
And  fight  in  elephantine  way  and  form  ; 
The  bear  should  hold  himself  prepared  to  storm ; 
The  fox  all  secret  stratagems  should  lix ; 
The  monkey  should  amuse  the  foe  by  tricks. 
Dismiss,  said  one,  the  blockhead  asses, 

And  hares,  too  cowardly  and  fleet. 
No,  said  the  king ;   I  use  all  classes ; 

Without  their  aid  my  force  were  incomplete. 
The  ass  shall  be  our  trumpeter,  to  scare 
Our  enemy.     And  then  the  nimble  hare 
Our  royal  bulletins  shall  homeward  bear. 

A  monarch  provident  and  wise 
Will  hold  his  subjects  all  of  consequence, 

And  know  in  each  what  talent  lies. 
There's  nothing  useless  to  a  man  of  sense. 


THE  BEAR  AND  THE  TWO  COMPANIONS. 

Two  fellows,  needing  funds,  and  bold, 
A  bearskin  to  a  furrier  sold, 
Of  which  the  bear  was  living  still, 
But  which  they  presently  would  kill  — 

At  least,  they  said  they  would. 

Afld,  if  their  word  was  good, 
It  was  a  king  of  bears  —  an  Ursa  Major  — 

The  biggest  bear  beneath  the  sun. 
Its  skin,  the  chaps  would  wager, 

Was  cheap  at  double  cost ; 

'Twould  make  one  laugh  at  frost  — 

And  make  two  robes  as  well  as  one. 
Old  Dindenaut,*  in  sheep  who  dealt, 
Less  prized  his  sheep,  than  they  their  pelt  — 

(In  their  account  'twas  theirs, 

But  in  his  own,  the  bear's.) 
By  bargain  struck  upon  the  skin, 
Two  days  at  most  must  bring  it  in. 
I'orth  went  the  two.     More  easy  found  than  got, 
The  bear  came  growling  at  them  on  the  trot. 


*  Vide  Rabelais,  Pantagrucl,  Book  IV.  Chap.  viii. 


474  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Behold  our  dealers  both  confounded, 

As  if  by  thunderbolt  astounded  ! 
Their  bargain  vanished  suddenly  in  air; 
For  who  could  plead  his  interest  with  a  bear  ? 

One  of  the  friends  sprung  up  a  tree  ; 

The  other,  cold  as  ice  could  be, 
Fell  on  his  face,  feigned  death, 
And  closely  held  his  breath,  — 

He  having  somewhere  heard  it  said 

The  bear  ne'er  preys  upon  the  dead. 

Sir  Bear,  sad  blockhead,  was  deceived  — 

The  prostrate  man  a  corpse  believed; 

But,  half  suspecting  some  deceit, 

He  feels  and  snuffs  from  head  to  fe^t, 
And  in  the  nostrils  blows. 

The  body  's  surely  dead,  he  thinks. 

I'll  leave  it,  says  he,  for  it  stinks; 
And  off  into  the  woods  he  goes. 

The  other  dealer,  from  his  tree 

Descending  cautiously,  to  see 

His  comrade  lying  in  the  dirt, 
Consoling,  says,  It  is  a  wonder 
That,  by  the  monster  forced  asunder, 

We're,  after  all,  more  scared  than  hurt. 

But,  addeth  he,  what  of  the  creature's  skin  ? 

He  held  his  muzzle  very  near ; 

What  did  he  whisper  in  your  ear  ? 

He  gave  this  caution,  —  "Never  dare 

Again  to  sell  the  skin  of  bear 

Its  owner  has  not  ceased  to  wear." 


PHOEBUS  AND  BOREAS. 

Old  Boreas  and  the  sun,  one  day, 
Espied  a  traveller  on  his  way, 
Whose  dress  did  happily  provide 
Against  whatever  might  betide. 
The  time  was  autumn,  when,  indeed, 
All  prudent  travellers  take  heed. 
The  rains  that  then  the  sunshine  dash, 
And  Iris  with  her  splendid  sash, 
Warn  one  who  does  not  like  to  soak 
To  wear  abroad  a  good  thick  cloak. 
Our  man  was  therefore  well  bedight 
With  double  mantle,  strong  and  tight. 
This  fellow,  said  the  wind,  has  meant 
To  guard  from  every  ill  event ; 
But  little  does  he  wot  that  I 

Can  blow  him  such  a  blast 

That,  not  a  button  fast, 
His  cloak  shall  cleave  the  sky. 
Come,  here's  a  pleasant  game,  Sir  Sun  ! 

Wilt  play  ?     Said  Phoebus,  Doue  ! 

We'll  bet  between  us  here 

Which  first  will  take  the  gear 

From  off  this  cavalier. 


476  LA    FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

Begin,  and  shut  away 
The  brightness  of  my  ray. 
Enough.     Our  blower,  on  the  bet, 
Swelled  out  his  pursy  form 
With  all  the  stuff  for  storm  — 
The  thunder,  hail,  and  drenching  wet, 
And  all  the  fury  he  could  muster ; 
Then,  with  a  very  demon's  bluster, 
He  whistled,  whirled,  and  splashed, 
And  down  the  torrents  dashed, 
Full  many  a  roof  uptearing 

He  never  did  before, 
Full  many  a  vessel  bearing 

To  wreck  upon  the  shore,  — 
And  all  to  doff  a  single  cloak. 
But  vain  the  furious  stroke  ; 
The  traveller  was  stout, 
And  kept  the  tempest  out, 
Defied  the  hurricane, 
Defied  the  pelting  rain ; 
And  as  the  fiercer  roared  the  blast, 
His  cloak  the  tighter  held  he  fast. 
The  sun  broke  out,  to  win  the  bet ; 
He  caused  the  clouds  to  disappear, 
Refreshed  and  warmed  the  cavalier, 
And  through  his  mantle  made  him  sweat, 
Till  off  it  came,  of  course, 
In  less  than  half  an  hour  ; 
And  yet  the  sun  saved  half  his  power. — 
So  much  doth  mildness  more  than  force. 


fUPITER  AND  THE  FARMER. 


Of  yore,  a  farm  had  Jupiter  to  rent ; 
To  advertise  it,  Mercury  was  sent. 
The  farmers,  far  and  near, 
Flocked  round,  the  terms  to  hear : 
And,  calling  to  their  aid 
The  various  tricks  of  trade, 
One  said,  'twas  rash  a  farm  to  hire 
Which  would  so  much  expense  require  ; 
Another,  that,  do  what  you  would, 
The  farm  would  still  be  far  from  good. 
While  thus,  in  market  style,  its  faults  were  told 
One  of  the  crowd,  less  wise  than  bold, 

Would  give  so  much,  on  this  condition, 
That  Jove  would  yield  him  altogether 
The  choice  and  making  of  his  weather,  — 

That,  instantly  on  his  decision, 
His  various  crops  should  feel  the  power 
Of  heat  or  cold,  of  sun  or  shower. 


478 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


Jove  yields.     The  bargain  closed,  our  man 

Rains,  blows,  and  takes  the  care 

Of  all  the  changes  of  the  air, 
On  his  peculiar,  private  plan. 

His  nearest  neighbors  felt  it  not, 

And  all  the  better  was  their  lot. 

Their  year  wTas  good,  by  grace  divine  ; 

The  grain  was  rich,  and  full  the  vine. 

The  renter,  failing  altogether, 
The  next  year  made  quite  different  weather; 

And  yet  the  fruit  of  all  his  labors 

Was  far  inferior  to  his  neighbors'. 
What  better  could  he  do  ?     To  Heaven 

He  owns  at  last  his  want  of  sense, 
And  so  is  graciously  forgiven. 

Hence  we  conclude  that  Providence 
Knows  better  what  we  need 
Than  we  ourselves,  indeed. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  479 


THE  STAG   SEEING  HIMSELF  IN  THE  WATER. 

Beside  a  placid,  crystal  flood, 
A  stag  admired  the  branching  wood 
That  high  upon  his  forehead  stood, 
But  gave  his  Maker  little  thanks 
For  what  he  called  his  spindle  shanks. 
What  limbs  are  these  for  such  a  head  !  — 
So  mean  and  slim  !  with  grief  he  said. 
My  glorious  head  o'ertops 
The  branches  of  the  copse  ; 
My  legs  are  my  disgrace. 
As  thus  he  talked,  a  bloodhound  gave  him  chase. 
To  save  his  life  he  flew 
Where  forests  thickest  grew. 
His  horns,  —  pernicious  ornament!  — 
Arresting  him  where'er  he  went, 
Did  unavailing  render 

What  else,  in  such  a  strife, 
Had  saved  his  precious  life  — 
His  legs,  as  fleet  as  slender. 
Obliged  to  yield,  he  cursed  the  gear 
Which  nature  gave  him  every  year. 

Too  much  the  beautiful  we  prize ; 
The  useful,  often,  we  despise : 
Yet  oft,  as  happened  to  the  stag, 
The  former  doth  to  ruin  drag. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 
THE   SATYR  AND  THE  TRAVELLER. 

Within  a  savage  forest  grot 

A  satyr  and  his  chips 
Were  taking  down  their  porridge  hot : 

Their  cups  were  at  their  lips. 

You  might  have  seen,  in  mossy  den, 
Himself,  his  wife,  and  brood. 

They  had  not  tailor-clothes,  like  men, 
But  appetites  as  good. 

In  came  a  traveller,  benighted, 

All  hungry,  cold,  and  wet ; 
Who  heard  himself  to  eat  invited 

With  nothing  like  regret. 

He  did  not  give  his  host  the  pain 

His  asking  to  repeat  ; 
But  first  he  blew  with  might  and  main 

To  give  his  fingers  heat. 

Then  in  his  steaming  porridge  dish 

He  delicately  blew. 
The  wondering  satyr  said,  1  wish 

The  use  of  both  I  knew. 

Why,  first,  my  blowing  warms  my  hand, 
And  then  it  cools  my  porridge. 

Ah  !  said  his  host,  then  understand 
I  cannot  give  you  storage. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  481 

To  sleep  beneath  one  roof  with  you, 

I  may  not  be  so  bold. 
Far  be  from  me  that  mouth  untrue 

Which  blows  both  hot  and  cold. 

THE  STAG  AND  TFIE  VINE 

A  stag,  by  favor  of  a  vine, 

Which  grew  where  suns  most  genial  shine, 

And  formed  a  thick  and  matted  bower 

Which  might  have  turned  a  summer  shower, 

Was  saved  from  ruinous  assault. 

The  hunters  thought  their  dogs  at  fault, 

And  called  them  off.    In  danger  now  no  more, 

The  stag,  a  thankless  wretch  and  vile, 
Began  to  browse  his  benefactress  o'er. 
The  hunters,  listening  the  while, 
The  rustling  heard,  came  back 
With  all  their  yelping  pack, 
And  seized  him  in  that  very  place 
This  is,  said  he,  but  justice,  in  my  case. 
Let  every  black  ingrate 
Henceforward  profit  by  my  fate. 
The  dogs  fell  to  —  'twere  wasting  breath 
To  pray  those  hunters  at  the  death. 
They  left,  and  we  will  not  revile  'em, 
A  warning  for  profaners  of  asylum. 


482  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  HARE  AND  THE  TORTOISE. 

To  win  a  race,  the  swiftness  of  a  dart 

Availeth  not  without  a  timely  start. 
The  hare  and  tortoise  are  my  witnesses. 
Said  tortoise  to  the  swiftest  thing  that  is, 
PJ1  bet  that  you'll  not  reach  so  soon  as  I 

The  tree  on  yonder  hill  we  spy. 
So  soon  !     Why,  madam,  are  you  frantic  ? 
Replied  the  creature,  with  an  antic ; 

Pray  take,  your  senses  to  restore, 

A  grain  or  two  of  hellebore. 
Say,  said  the  tortoise,  what  you  will ; 
1  dare  you  to  the  wager  still. 

'Twas  done  ;  the  stakes  were  paid, 

And  near  the  goal  tree  laid  — 
Of  what,  is  not  a  question  for  this  place, 
Nor  who  it  was  that  judged  the  race. 
Our  hare  had  scarce  five  jumps  to  make, 
Of  such  as  he  is  wont  to  take, 
When,  starting  just  before  their  beaks, 

He  leaves  the  hounds  at  leisure, 
Thence  till  the  kalends  of  the  Greeks, 

The  sterile  heath  to  measure. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  483 

Tims  having  time  to  browse,  and  doze, 
And  list  which  way  the  zephyr  blows, 
He  makes  himself  content  to  wait, 
And  let  the  tortoise  go  her  gait 
In  solemn,  senatorial  state. 
She  starts ;  she  moils  on,  modestly  and  lowly, 
And  with  a  prudent  wisdom  hastens  slowly; 
But  he,  meanwhile,  the  victory  despises, 

Thinks  lightly  of  such  prizes. 

Believes  it  for  his  honor 
To  take  late  start  and  gain  upon  her. 

So,  feeding,  sitting  at  his  ease, 

He  meditates  of  what  you  please, 

Till  his  antagonist  he  sees 

Approach  the  goal;  then  starts, 

Away  like  lightning  darts  • 

But  vainly  does  he  run , 
The  race  is  by  the  tortoise  won. 

Cries  she,  My  senses  do  I  lack  ? 
What  boots  your  boasted  swiftness  now  ? 
You're  beat!  and  yet,  you  must  allow, 

I  bore  my  house  upon  my  back. 


484  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  ASS  AND  HIS   MASTERS. 

A  gardener's  ass  complained  to  Destiny 
Of  being  made  to  rise  before  the  dawn. 
The  cocks  their  matins  have  not  sung,  said  he, 

Ere  I  am  up  and  gone. 
And  all  for  what  ?     To  market  herbs,  it  seems 
Fine  cause,  indeed,  to  interrupt  my  dreams! 
Fate,  moved  by  such  a  prayer, 
Sent  him  a  currier's  load  to  bear, 
Whose  hides  so  heavy  and  ill  scented  were, 

They  almost  choked  the  foolish  beast. 
I  wish  me  with  my  former  lord,  he  said  ; 
For  then,  whene'er  he  turned  his  head, 
If  on  the  watch,  I  caught 
A  cabbage-leaf,  which  cost  me  nought. 
But,  in  this  horrid  place,  I  find 
No  chance  or  windfall  of  the  kind  ;  — 
Or  if,  indeed,  I  do, 
The  cruel  blows  I  rue. 
Anon  it  came  to  pass 
He  was  a  collier's  ass. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


485 


Still  more  complaint.     What  now?  said  Fate, 
Quite  out  of  patience. 
If  on  this  jackass  I  must  wait, 
What  will  become  of  kings  and  nations  ? 
Has  none  but  he  aught  here  to  tease  him  ? 
Have  I  no  business  but  to  please  him  ? 
And  Fate  had  cause  ;  —  for  all  are  so. 
Unsatisfied  while  here  below, 
Our  present  lot  is  aye  the  worst. 
Our  foolish  prayers  the  skies  infest. 
Were  Jove  to  grant  all  we  request, 
The  din  renewed,  his  head  would  burst. 


486  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  CHARLATAN. 

The  world  has  never  lacked  its  charlatans, 
More  than  themselves  have  lacked  their  plans. 
One  sees  them  on  the  stage  at  tricks 
Which  mock  the  claims  of  sullen  Styx. 
What  talents  in  the  streets  they  pest! 
One  of  them  used  to  boast 
Such  mastership  of  eloquence 
That  he  could  make  the  greatest  dunce 
Another  Tully  Cicero 
In  all  the  arts  that  lawyers  know. 
Ay,  sirs,  a  dunce,  a  country  clown, 
The  greatest  blockhead  of  your  town, — 
Nay  more,  an  animal,  an  ass,  — 
The  stupidest  that  nibbles  grass, — 
Needs  only  through  my  course  to  pass, 
And  he  shall  wear  the  gown 
With  credit,  honor,  and  renown. 
The  prince  heard  of  it,  called  the.  man,  thus  spake ; 

My  stable  holds  a  steed 

Of  the  Arcadian  breed, 
Of  which  an  orator  I  wish  to  make. 
Well,  sire,  you  can. 
Replied  our  man. 

At  once  his  majesty 

Paid  the  tuition  fee. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  487 

Ten  years  must  roll,  and  then  the  learned  ass 
Should  his  examination  pass, 

According  to  the  rules 

Adopted  in  the  schools ; 
If  not,  his  teacher  was  to  tread  the  air, 
With  haltered  neck,  above  the  public  square, — 
His  rhetoric  bound  on  his  back, 
And  on  his  head  the  ears  of  jack. 
A  courtier  told  the  rhetorician, 

With  bows  and  terms  polite, 

He  would  not  miss  the  sight 
Of  that  last  pendent  exhibition; 
For  that  his  grace  and  dignity 
Would  well  become  such  high  degree ; 
And,  on  the  point  of  being  hung, 
He  would  bethink  him  of  his  tongue, 
And  show  the  glory  of  his  art,  — 
The  power  to  melt  the  hardest  heart,  — 

And  wage  a  war  with  time 

By  periods  sublime  — 
A  pattern  speech  for  orators  thus  leaving, 
Whose  work  is  vulgarly  called  thieving. 

Ah !  was  the  charlatan's  reply, 

Ere  that,  the  king,  the  ass,  or  1, 

Shall,  one  or  other  of  us,  die. 
And  reason  good  had  he  ; 
We  count  on  life  most  foolishly, 
Though  hale  and  hearty  we  may  be. 
In  each  ten  years,  death  cuts  down  one  in  three 


488  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

THE  DOG   WHOSE  EARS  WERE  CROPPED. 

What  have  1  done,  I'd  like  to  know, 
To  make  my  master  maim  me  so  ? 
A  pretty  figure  I  shall  cut ! 
l^rom  other  dogs  I'll  keep,  in  kennel  shut. 
Ye  kings  of  beasts,  or  rather  tyrants,  ho ! 
Would  any  beast  have  served  you  so  ? 
Thus  Growler  cried,  a  mastiff  young ;  — 
The  man,  whom  pity  never  stung, 
Went  on  to  prune  him  of  his  ears. 
Though  Growler  whined  about  his  losses, 
He  found,  before  the  lapse  of  years, 
Himself  a  gainer  by  the  process  ; 
For,  being  by  his  nature  prone 
To  fight  his  brethren  for  a  bone, 
He'd  oft  come  back  from  sad  reverse 
With  those  appendages  the  worse. 
All  snarling  dogs  have  ragged  ears. 

The  less  of  hold  for  teeth  of  foe, 

The  better  will  the  battle  go. 

When,  in  a  certain  place,  one  fears 
The  chance  of  being  hurt  or  beat, 
He  fortifies  it  from  defeat. 

Besides  the  shortness  of  his  ears, 
See  Growler  armed  against  his  likes 
With  gorget  full  of  ugly  spikes. 
A  wolf  would  find  it  quite  a  puzzle 
To  get  a  hold  about  his  muzzle. 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES.  4g9 


THE   HORSE   AND   THE   ASS. 

In  such  a  world,  all  men,  of  every  grade, 
Should  each  the  other  kindly  aid; 
For,  if  beneath  misfortune's  goad 
A  neighbor  falls,  on  you  will  fall  his  load. 

There  jogged  in  company  an  ass  and  horse; 
Nought  but  his  harness  did  the  last  endorse; 
The  other  bore  a  load  that  crushed  him  down, 

And  begged  the  horse  a  little  help  to  give, 
Or  otherwise  he  could  not  reach  the  town. 
This  prayer,  said  he,  is  civil,  I  believe  ; 
One  half  this  burden  you  would  scarcely  feel. 
The  horse  refused,  flung  up  a  scornful  heel, 
And  saw  his  comrade  die  beneath  the  weight;  — 
And  saw  his  wrong  too  late  ; 
For  on  his  own  proud  back 
They  put  the  ass's  pack, 
And  over  that,  beside, 
They  put  the  ass's  hide. 


490  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  HEIFER,  THE  GOAT,   AND  THE  SHEEP,  IN 
COMPANY   WITH   THE  LION. 

The  heifer,  the  goat,  and  their  sister  the  sheep, 
Compacted  their  earnings  in  common  to  keep, 
'Tis  said,  in  time  past,  with  a  lion,  who  swayed 
Full  lordship  o'er  neighbors,  of  whatever  grade. 
The  goat,  as  it  happened,  a  stag  having  snared, 
Sent  off  to  the  rest,  that  the  beast  might  be  shared. 
All  gathered  ;  the  lion  first  counts  on  his  claws, 
And  says,  We'll  proceed  to  divide  with  our  paws 
The  stag  into  pieces,  as  fixed  by  our  laws. 

This  done,  he  announces  part  first  as  his  own ; 

'Tis  mine,  he  says,  truly,  as  lion  alone. 

To  such  a  decision  there's  nought  to  be  said, 

As  he  who  has  made  it  is  doubtless  the  head. 
Well,  also,  the  second  to  me  should  belong ; 
'Tis  mine,  be  it  known,  by  the  right  of  the  strong 
Again,  as  the  bravest,  the  third  must  be  mine. 
To  touch  but  the  fourth  whoso  maketh  a  sign, 
I'll  choke  him  to  death 
In  the  space  of  a  breath ! 


LA   FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  491 


THE  FARMER,  THE  DOG,  AND  THE  FOX. 

The  wolf  and  fox  are  neighbors  strange  : 
I  would  not  build  within  their  range. 
The  fox  once  eyed  with  strict  regard, 
From  day  to  day,  a  poultry-yard ; 
But  though  a  most  accomplished  cheat, 
He  could  not  get  a  fowl  to  eat. 
Between  the  risk  and  appetite, 
His  rogueship's  trouble  was  not  slight. 
Alas !  quoth  he,  this  stupid  rabble 
But  mock  me  with  their  constant  gabble* 
I  go  and  come,  and  rack  my  brains, 
And  get  my  labor  for  my  pains. 
Your  rustic  owner,  safe  at  home, 
Takes  all  the  profits  as  they  come : 
He  sells  his  capons  and  his  chicks, 
Or  keeps  them  hanging  on  his  hook, 
All  dressed  and  ready  for  his  cook ; 
But  I,  adept  in  arts  and  tricks, 
Should  I  but  catch  the  toughest  crovver, 
Should  be  brimful  of  joy,  and  more. 
O  Jove  supreme,  why  was  I  made 
A  master  of  the  fox's  trade  ? 
By  all  the  higher  powers  and  lower, 
I  swear  to  rob  this  chicken-grower ! 


492  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE   GODS   WISHING  TO   INSTRUCT   A   SON  OF 
JUPITER. 

fOR    MONSEIGNEUR    THE    DUKE    DU    MAINE. 

To  Jupiter  was  born  a  son, 
Who,  conscious  of  his  origin, 
A  godlike  spirit  had  within. 
To  love,  such  age  is  little  prone ; 
Yet  this  celestial  boy 
Made  love  his  chief  employ, 
And  was  beloved  wherever  known. 
In  him  both  love  and  reason 
Sprang  up  before  their  season. 
With  charming  smiles  and  manners  winning, 
Had  Flora  decked  his  life's  beginning, 
A.s  an  Olympian  became  : 
Whatever  lights  the  tender  flame,  — 
A  heart  to  take  and  render  bliss,  — 
Tears,  sighs,  in  short  the  whole  were  his 
Jove's  son,  he  should  of  course  inherit 
A  higher  and  a  nobler  spirit 
Than  sons  of  other  deities. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  493 

It  seemed  as  if  by  Memory's  aid  — 

As  if  a  previous  life  had  made 
Experiment  and  hid  it  — 

He  plied  the  lover's  hard-learned  trade, 
So  perfectly  he  did  it. 

Still  Jupiter  would  educate 

In  manner  fitting  to  his  state. 

The  gods,  obedient  to  his  call, 

Assemble  in  their  council -hall ; 
When  thus  the  sire :  Companionless  and  sole, 
Thus  far  the.  boundless  universe  I  roll ; 
But  numerous  other  offices  there  are, 
Of  which  I  give  to  younger  gods  the  care. 
I'm  now  forecasting  for  this  cherished  child, 
Whose  countless  altars  are  already  piled ; 
To  merit  such  regard  from  all  below, 
All  things  the  young  immortal  ought  to  know. 
No  sooner  had  the  Thunderer  ended, 
Than  each  his  godlike  plan  commended ; 

Nor  did  the  boy  too  little  yearn 

His  lesson  infinite  to  learn. 

Said  fiery  Mars,  I  take  the  part 

To  make  him  master  of  the  art 

Whereby  so  many  heroes  high 

Have  won  the  honors  of  the  sky. 

To  teach  him  music  be  my  care, 

Apollo  said,  the  wise  and  fair ; 

And  mine,  that  mighty  god  replied, 

In  the  Nemsean  lion's  hide, 


494  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

To  teach  him  to  subdue 

The  vices,  an  envenomed  crew, 
Like  Hydras  springing  ever  new. 
The  foe  of  weakening  luxury, 
The  boy  divine  will  learn  from  me 
Those  rugged  paths,  so  little  trod, 
That,  lead  to  glory  man  and  god. 
Said  Cupid,  when  it  came  his  turn, 
All  things  from  me  the  boy  may  learn. 

Well  spoke  the  god  of  love. 
What  feat  of  Mars,  or  Hercules, 

Or  bright  Apollo,  lies  above 
Wit,  winged  by  a  desire  to  please  ? 


THE  DOG  THAT  DROPPED  THE  SUBSTANCE  FOR 
THE  SHADOW. 

This  world  is  full  of  shadow-chasers, 

Most  easily  deceived. 
Should  I  enumerate  these  racers, 

I  should  not  be  believed. 
I  send  them  all  to  iEsop's  dog, 
Which,  crossing  water  on  a  log, 
Espied  the  meat  he  bore,  below; 
To  seize  its  image,  let  it  go ; 
Plunged  in ;  to  reach  the  shore  was  glad, 
With  neither  what  he  hoped,  nor  what  he'd  had. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES.  495 


THE  OLD   MAN    AND  THE  THREE   YOUNG   ONES. 

A  man  was  planting  at  fourscore. 
Three  striplings,  who  their  satchels  wore, 
In  building,  cried,  the  sense  were  more ; 
But  then  to  plant  young  trees  at  that  age ! 
The  man  is  surely  in  his  dotage. 

Pray,  in  the  name  of  common  sense, 
What  fruit  can  he  expect  to  gather 

Of  all  this  labor  and  expense  ? 
Why,  he  must  live  like  Lamech's  father ! 
What  use  for  thee,  gray-headed  man, 
To  load  the  remnant  of  thy  span 
With  care  for  days  that  never  can  be  thine  ? 
Thyself  to  thought  of  errors  past  resign. 
Long-growing  hope,  and  lofty  plan, 
Leave  thou  to  us,  to  whom  such  things  belong. 
To  you !  replied  the  old  man  hale  and  strong ; 
I  dare  pronounce  you  altogether  wrong. 
The  settled  part  of  man's  estate 
Is  very  brief,  and  comes  full  late. 
To  those  pale,  gaming  sisters  trine, 
Your  lives  are  stakes  as  well  as  mine. 
While  so  uncertain  is  the  sequel, 
Our  terms  of  future  life  are  equal ; 


496  LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

For  none  can  tell  who  last  shall  close  his  eyes 
Upon  the  glories  of  these  azure  skies; 
Nor  any  moment  give  us,  ere  it  flies, 
Assurance  that  another  such  shall  rise. 
But  my  descendants,  whosoe'er  they  be. 
Shall  owe  these  cooling  fruits  and  shades  to  me. 
Do  you  acquit  yourselves,  in  wisdom's  sight, 
From  ministering  to  other  hearts  delight  ? 
Why,  boys,  this  is  the  fruit  I  gather  now ; 
And  sweeter  never  blushed  on  bended  bough. 
Of  this,  to-morrow  I  may  take  my  fill ; 
Indeed,  I  may  enjoy  its  sweetness  till 
I  see  full  many  mornings  chase  the  glooms 
From  off  the  marble  of  your  youthful  tombs. 
The  gray-beard  man  was  right.     One  of  the  three. 
Embarking,  foreign  lands  to  see, 
Was  drowned  within  the  very  port. 
In  quest  of  dignity  at  court, 
Another  met  his  country's  foe, 
And  perished  by  a  random  blow. 
The  third  was  killed  by  falling  from  a  tree 
Which  he  himself  would  graft.     The  three 
Were  mourned  by  him  of  hoary  head, 
Who  chiseled  on  each  monument  — 
On  doing  good  intent  — 
The  things  which  we  have  said. 


THE  COUNCIL  HELD  BY  THE  RATS. 


Old  Rodilard,  a  certain  cat, 

Such  havoc  of  the  rats  had  made, 
Twas  difficult  to  find  a  rat 

With  nature's  debt  unpaid. 
The  few  that  did  remain, 

To  leave  their  holes  afraid, 
From  usual  food  abstain, 

Not  eating  half  their  fill. 

And  wonder  no  one  will, 
That  one  who  made  on  rats  his  revel, 
With  rats  passed  not  for  cat,  but  devil. 
Now,  on  a  day,  this  dread  rat-eater, 
Who  had  a  wife,  went  out  to  meet  her; 
And  while  he  held  his  caterwauling, 
The  unkilled  rats,  their  chapter  calling, 
Discussed  the  point,  in  grave  debate, 
How  they  might  shuu  impending  fate. 

Their  dean,  a  prudent  rat. 
Thought  best,  and  better  soon  than  late, 

To  bell  the  fatal  cat ; 


LA  FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 

That,  when  he  took  his  hunting  round, 
The  rats,  well  cautioned  by  the  sound, 
Might  hide  in  safety  under  ground ; 

Indeed  he  knew  no  other  means. 
And  all  the  rest 
At  once  confessed 

Their  minds  were  with  the  dean?s. 
No  better  plan,  they  all  believed, 
Could  possibly  have  been  conceived. 
No  doubt  the  thing  would  work  right  well, 
If  any  one  would  hang  the  bell. 

But,  one  by  one,  said  every  rat, 

I'm  not  so  big  a  fool  as  that. 
The  plan,  knocked  up  in  this  respect, 
The  council  closed  without  effect. 
And  many  a  council  I  have  seen, 
Or  reverend  chapter  with  its  dean, 

That,  thus  resolving  wisely, 

Fell  through  like  this  precisely. 

To  argue  or  refute 

Wise  counsellors  abound , 

The  man  to  execute 
Is  harder  to  be  found. 


LA   FONTAINE'S   FABLES. 


THE  EAGLE  AND  THE  BEETLE. 


John  Rabbit,  by  Dame  Eagle  chased, 
Was  making  for  his  hole  in  haste, 
When,  on  his  way,  he  met  a  beetle's  burrow. 
I  leave  you  all  to  think 
If  such  a  little  chink 
Could  to  a  rabbit  give  protection  thorough. 
But,  since  no  better  could  be  got, 
John  Rabbit  there  was  fain  to  squat. 
Of  course,  in  an  asylum  so  absurd, 
John  felt  ere  long  the  talons  of  the  bird. 
But  first,  the  beetle,  interceding,  cried, 
Great  queen  of  birds,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
That,  maugre  my  protection,  you  can  bear 
My  trembling  guest,  John  Rabbit,  through  the  air. 
But  do  not  give  me  such  affront,  I  pray ; 
And  since  he  craves  your  grace, 
In  pity  of  his  case, 
Grant  him  his  life,  or  take  us  both  away ; 


500  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 

For  he's  my  gossip,  friend,  and  neighbor. 
In  vain  the  beetle's  friendly  labor ; 
The  eagle  clutched  her  prey  without  reply, 
And  as  she  flapped  her  vasty  wings  to  fly, 
Struck  down  our  orator  and  stilled  him ; 
The  wonder  is  she  hadn't  killed  him. 
The  beetle  soon,  of  sweet  revenge  in  quest, 

Flew  to  the  old,  gnarled  mountain  oak 
Which  proudly  bore  that  haughty  eagle's  nest. 
And  while  the  bird  was  gone, 
Her  eggs,  her  cherished  eggs,  he  broke, 
Not  sparing  one. 
Returning  from  her  flight,  the  eagle's  cry, 
Of  rage  and  bitter  anguish,  filled  the  sky. 
But,  by  excess  of  passion  blind, 
Her  enemy  she  failed  to  find. 
Her  wrath  in  vain,  that  year  it  was  her  fate 
To  live  a  mourning  mother,  desolate. 
The  next,  she  built  a  loftier  nest ;  'twas  vain  ; 
The  beetle  found  and  dashed  her  eggs  again. 

John  Rabbit's  death  was  thus  revenged  anew. 
The  second  mourning  for  her  murdered  brood 
Was  such,  that  through  the  giant  mountain  wood. 
For  six  long  months,  the  sleepless  echo  flew. 
The  bird,  once  Ganymede,  now  made 
Her  prayer  to  Jupiter  for  aid  ; 
And,  laying  them  within  his  godship's  lap, 
She  thought  her  eggs  now  safe  from  all  mishap ; 
The  god  his  own  could  not  but  make  them  — 
No  wretch  would  venture  there  to  break  them. 


LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES  501 

And  no  one  did.     Their  enemy,  this  time, 
Upsoaring  to  a  place  sublime, 
Let  fall  upon  his  royal  robes  some  dirt, 
Which  Jove  just  shaking,  with  a  sudden  flirt, 
Threw  out  the  eggs,  no  one  knows  whither. 
When  Jupiter  informed  her  how  th'  event 
Occurred  by  purest  accident, 
The  eagle  raved  ;  there  was  no  reasoning  with  her 
She  gave  out  threats  of  leaving  court, 
To  make  the  desert  her  resort, 
And  other  braveries  of  this  sort. 
Poor  Jupiter  in  silence  heard 
The  uproar  of  his  favorite  bird. 
Before  his  throne  the  beetle  now  appeared. 
And  by  a  clear  complaint  the  mystery  cleared. 
The  god  pronounced  the  eagle  in  the  wrong. 
But  still,  their  hatred  was  so  old  and  strong, 
These  enemies  could  not  be  reconciled  ; 
And,  that  the  general  peace  might  not  be  spoiled,  — 
The  best  that  he  could  do,  —  the  god  arranged, 
That  thence  the  eagle's  pairing  should  be  changed, 
To  come  when  beetle  folks  are  only  found 
Concealed  and  dormant  under  ground. 


502  LA  FONTAINE'S  FABLES. 


THE  JAY   IN   THE  FEATHERS  OF  THE  PEACOCK. 

A  peacock  moulted  :  soon  a  jay  was  seen 

Bedecked  with  Argus  tail  of  gold  and  green, 

High  strutting,  with  elated  crest, 

As  much  a  peacock  as  the  rest. 

His  trick  was  recognized  and  bruited, 
His  person  jeered  at,  hissed,  and  hooted. 
The  peacock  gentry  flocked  together, 
And  plucked  the  fool  of  every  feather. 
Nay  more,  when  back  he  sneaked  to  join  his  race, 

They  shut  their  portals  in  his  face. 

There  is  another  sort  of  jay, 
The  number  of  its  legs  the  same, 
Which  makes  of  borrowed  plumes  display, 
And  plagiary  is  its  name. 

But  hush  !  the  tribe  I'll  not  offend  ; 

'Tis  not  my  work  their  ways  to  mend. 


iSEKI&CSX&WIB 


Here  check  we  our  career. 

Long  books  I  greatly  fear. 
I  would  not  quite  exhaust  my  stuff, 
The  flower  of  subjects  is  enough. 
To  me,  the  time  is  come,  it.  seems, 
To  draw  my  breath  for  other  themes 
Love,  tyrant  of  my  life,  commands 
That  other  work  be  on  my  hands. 

1  dare  not  disobey. 
Once  more  shall  Psyche  be  my  lay. 
I'm  called  by  Damon  to  portray 
Her  sorrows  and  her  joys. 
I  yield :  perhaps,  while  she  employs, 
My  muse  will  catch  a  richer  glow ; 

And  well  if  this  my  labored  strain 

Shall  be  the  last  and  only  pain 
Her  spouse  shall  cause  me  here  below. 


INDEX. 


A. 

Acorn  and  Pumpkin,  155. 
Against  the  hard  to  suit,  281. 
Animal  in  the  Moon,  50. 
Animals   sending  Tribute,  etc., 

439. 
Animals  sick  of  the  Plague,  7. 
Ape,  The,  260. 
Arbiter,  Almoner,  and  Hermit, 

293. 
Ass  and  Dog,  94. 
Ass  and  his  Masters,  484. 
Ass  and  Little  Dog,  427. 
Ass  bearing  Relics,  442. 
Ass  in  Lion's  Skin,  340. 
Ass  loaded  with  Sponges,  etc. , 

380. 
Astrologer  who  fell  into  a  Well, 

382. 

B. 

Bat  and  Two  Weasels,  374. 
Bat,  Bush,  and  Duck,  272. 
Battle  of  Rats  and  Weasels,  429. 
Bear  and  Gardener,  73. 
Bear  and  Two  Companions,  473. 
Bird  wounded  by  an  Arrow,  311. 
Bitch  and  her  Friend,  450. 
Boy  and  Schoolmaster,  363. 
Burier  and  his  Comrade,  199. 


Camel  and  Floating  Sticks,  417. 

Cartman  in  the  Mire,  334. 

Cat  and  Fox,  162. 

Cat  and  Old  Rat,  184. 

Cat  and  Rat,  112. 

Cat  and  Two  Sparrows,  261. 

Cat  metamorphosed  to  a  Woman, 


Cat,  Weasel,  and  Little  Rabbit, 

46. 
Charlatan,  486. 

City  Rat  and  Country  Rat,  346. 
Coach  and  Fly,  25. 
Cobbler  and  Financier,  60. 
Cock  and  Fox,  388. 
Cock  and  Pearl,  268. 
Cockerel,  Cat,  and  Mouse,  130. 
Companions  of  Ulysses,  329. 
Council  held  by  Rats,  497. 
Countryman  and  Serpent,  231. 
Court  of  the  Lion,  21. 
Curate  and  Corpse,  32. 


D. 

Dairy  Woman  and  Pot  of  Milk, 
30. 

Daphnis  and  Alcimadure,  336. 

Death  and  the  Dying,  57. 

Death  and  the  Unfortunate,  357. 

Death  and  Woodchopper,  358. 

Democritus  and  the  PeoDle  of 
Abdera,  121. 

Discord,  463. 

Doctors,  193. 

Dog  carrying  his  Master's  Din- 
ner, 67. 

Dog  who  lost  the  Substance  for 
the  Shadow,  494. 

Dog  with  his  Ears  cut  off,  488. 

Dove  and  Ant,  312. 

Dragon  of  Many  Heads,  etc.,  351. 

Drunkard  and  his  Wife,  418. 


Earthen  Pot  and  Iron  Pot,  270. 
Eagle  and  Beetle,  499. 
Eagle  and  Magpie,  286. 
Eagle  and  Owl,  470. 

505 


INDEX. 


Eagle,  Wild  Sow,  and  Cat,  415. 
Ears  of  the  Hare,  438. 
Education,  115. 
Elephant   and   Ape  of   Jupiter, 

315. 
English  Fox,  320. 
Eye  of  the  Master,  453. 


Faithless  Depositary,  101. 
Falcon  and  Capon,  109. 
Farmer,  Dog,  and  Fox,  239. 
Fishes  and  Cormorant,  196. 
Fishes  and  Shepherd  who  played 

the  Flute,  214. 
Fly  and  Ant,  422. 
Fool  and  Sage,  319. 
Fool  who  sold  Wisdom,  151. 
Fortune  and  the  Boy,  301. 
Fortune-Tellers,  43. 
Fowler,  Hawk,  and  Lark,  233. 
Fox  and  Bust,  309. 
Fox  and  Goat,  413. 
Fox  and  Grapes,  111. 
Fox  and  Stork,  361. 
Fox  and  Turkeys,  317. 
Fox,  Flies,  and  Hedgehog,  297. 
Fox,  Monkey,  and  Animals,  132. 
Fox  with  his  Tail  cut  off,  462. 
Fox,  Wolf,  and  Horse,  310. 
Frog  and  Rat,  436. 
Frogs  asking  a  King,  411. 
Frog  who  would  he  as  hig  as  the 

Ox,  84. 
Funeral  of  the  Lioness,  87. 


G. 

Gardener  and  Lord,  424. 

Gods  wishing  to  educate  a  Sou 

of  Jupiter,  492. 
Gout  and  Spider,  420. 
Grasshopper  and  Ant,  443. 


Hare  and  Frogs,  384. 
Hare  and  Partridge,  468. 


Hare  and  Tortoise,  482. 

Head  and  Tail  of  the  Serpent, 

48. 
Heifer,  Sheep,   Goat,  and  Lion, 

491. 
Hen  with  Golden  Eggs,  459. 
Heron,  16. 

Hog,  Goat,  and  Sheep,  78. 
Hornets  and  Honey-Bees,  365. 
Horoscope,  90. 
Horse  and  Ass,  489. 
Horse  and  Stag,  85. 
Horse  and  Wolf,  465. 
Husband,  Wife,  and  Thief,  169. 


Ill-Married,  11. 

Ingratitude  of  Men  to  Fortune, 
41. 


Jay  and  Peacocks,  502. 
Joker  and  Fishes,  69. 
Jupiter  and  Farmer,  477. 
Jupiter  and  Thunders,  106. 
Jupiter  and  Passenger,  160. 


Kite  and  Nightingale,  164. 
King,  Kite,  and  Falconer,  288. 


L. 

Lark  and  her  Young  Ones,  455. 

League  of  the  Rats,  326. 

Lion,  205. 

Lion  and  Ass  hunting,  397. 

Lion  and  Gnat,  378. 

Lion  and  Hunter,  364. 

Lion  and  Rat,  373. 

Lion  beaten  by  Man,  182. 

Lion,  Court  of  the,  21. 

Lioness  and  Bear,  219. 

Lion  going  to  War,  472. 

Lion  grown  old,  276. 

Lion  in  Love,  139. 


INDEX. 


507 


Lion,  Monkey,  and  Two  Asses, 

236. 
Lion,  Wolf,  and  Fox,  63. 
Little  Fish  and  Fisher,  458. 
Lobster  and  Daughter,  284. 
Love  and  Folly,  299. 


M. 

Maid,  18. 

Man  and  Adder,  189. 

Man  and  Flea,  118. 

Man  and  Image,  349. 

Man  and  Two  Mistresses,  359. 

Man  and  Wooden  God,  434. 

Man  who  ran  after  Fortune,  etc., 

35. 
Members  and  Belly,  406. 
Merchant,  Shepherd, Gentleman, 

and  King's  Son,  228. 
Miller,  Son,  and  Ass,  165. 
Mice  and  Owl,  258. 
Miser  and  Monkey,  263. 
Miser  who  had  lost  his  Treasure, 

391. 
Mogul's  Dream,  234. 
Monkey  and  Cat,  173. 
Monkey  and  Dolphin,  432. 
Monkey  and  Leopard,  153. 
Mountain  in  Labor,  280. 
Mouse    metamorphosed    into    a 

Maid,  146. 
Mule  boasting  of  his  Genealogy, 

20. 

N. 
Nothing  too  Much,  157. 


O. 

Oak  and  Reed,  367. 

Old  Cat  and  Young  Mouse,  269. 

Old  Man  and  Ass,  34. 

Old  Man  and  his  Sons,  451. 

Old  Man  and  Three  Young  Ones, 

495. 
Old  Woman  and  Two  Servants, 

460. 
Oracle  and  the  Atheist,  390. 
Oyster  and  Litigants,  150. 


Partridge  and  Cocks,  210. 
Pashaw  and  Merchant,  96. 
Peacock   complaining  to  Juno, 

395. 
Peasant  of  the  Danube,  242. 
Philomel  and  Progne,  180. 
Phoebus  and  Boreas,  475. 
Plowman  and  his  Sons,  467. 


Quarrel  of  the  Dogs  and  Cats, 
etc.,  274. 

R. 

Rabbits,  224. 
Rat  and  Elephant,  55. 
Rat  and  Oyster,  71. 
Rat  retired  from  the  World,  14. 
Raven  and  Eagle,  393. 
Raven  and  Fox,  341. 
Raven,    Tortoise,    Gazelle,    and 
Rat,  302. 


Satyr  and  Traveler,  480. 

School-Boy,  Pedant,  and  Gar- 
dener, 142. 

Sculptor  and  Statue  of  Jupiter, 
144. 

Scythian  Philosopher,  313. 

Serpent  and  File,  138. 

Shepherd  and  his  Flock,  175. 

Shepherd  and  King,  211. 

Shepherd  and  Lion,  403. 

Shepherd  and  Sea,  187. 

Sick  Lion  and  Fox,  232. 

Simonides  preserved  by  the 
Gods,  353. 

Spider  and  Swallow,  208. 

Stag  and  Vine,  481. 

Stag  seeing  himself  in  Water, 
479. 

Sick  Stag,  445. 

Sun  and  Frogs,  296,  324. 

Swallow  and  Little  Birds,  343. 

Swan  and  Cook,  177. 


508 


INDEX. 


T. 

Thieves  and  Ass,  356. 

Tliyrsis  and  Amaranth,  80. 

To  Duke  de  Bourgoyne,  267. 

To  Monseigneur  the  Dauphin,  3. 

Tortoise  and  Two  Ducks,  194. 

Torrent  and  River,  54. 

Treasure  and  Two  Men,  171. 

Two  Adventurers  and  the  Talis- 
man, 221. 

Two  Bulls  and  Frog,  435. 

Two  Cocks,  39. 

Two  Dogs  and  Dead  Ass,  116. 

Two  Doves,  134. 

Two  Friends,  76. 

Two  Goats,  265. 

Two  Mules,  312. 

Two  Parrots,  the  King  and  his 
Son,  216. 

Two  Rats,  Fox,  and  Egg,  247. 

U. 

Use  of  Knowledge.  99. 


Vultures  and  Pigeons,  23. 


VV. 

Wallet,  119. 
Wax  Candle,  159. 
Weasel  in  a  Granarv,  183. 
Will  explained  bv  iEsop.  399. 
Wolf  and  Dos:,  27. 
Wolf  and  Fox,  277. 
Wolf  and  Fox  at  the  Well,  240. 
Wolf  and  Fox  before  the  Mon- 
key, 29. 
Wolf  and  Hunter,  124. 
Wolf  and  Lamb,  347. 
Wolf  and  Lean  Dog,  376. 
Wolf  and  Shepherds,  201. 
Wolf  and  Stork,  129. 
Wolf,  Goat,  and  Kid,  446. 
Wolf,  Mother,  and  Child,  448. 
Wolf  turned  Shepherd,  409. 
Wolves  and  Sheep,  178. 
Woman  Drowned,  181. 
Women  and  the  Secret,  65. 
Woodman  and  Forest,  308. 
Woodman  and  Mercury,  369. 
Words  of  Socrates,  298. 


Young  Widow,  127. 


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