To the listening crowd,
"I may well of my father's great courage be proud;
Wherever he came,
Flock, shepherd, or dame,
All trembled and fled at the sound of his name.
Did anyone spy
My papa coming by--
Two hundred or more--Oh! he made them all fly!
One day, by a blow,
He was conquered, I know;
But no wonder at last he should yield to a foe:
He yielded, poor fellow!
The conquering bellow
Resounds in my ears as my poor father's knell--Oh!"
A Fox then replied,
While, leering aside,
He laughed at his folly and vapouring pride:
"My chattering youth,
Your nonsense, forsooth,
Is more like a funeral sermon than truth.
Let history tell
How your old father fell;
And see if the narrative sounds as well.
Your folly surpasses,
Of monkeys all classes;
The beasts which he frightened, or conquered, were asses,
Except a few sheep,
When the shepherd, asleep,
The dog by his side for safety did keep.
Your father fell back,
Knocked down by a whack
From the very first bull that he dared to attack.
Away he'd have scoured,
But soon overpowered,
He lived like a thief, and he died like a coward."
FABLE LV.
THE BELLY AND THE MEMBERS.
In former days, when the Belly and the other parts of the body
enjoyed the faculty of speech, and had separate views and designs
of their own; each part, it seems, in particular, for himself,
and in the name of the whole, took exception at the conduct of
the Belly, and were resolved to grant him supplies no longer.
They said they thought it very hard that he should lead an idle,
good-for-nothing life, spending and squandering away upon his own
vile appetites all the fruits of their labour; and that, in
short, they were resolved for the future to strike off his
allowance, and let him shift for himself as well as he could.
The hands protested they would not lift a finger to keep him from
starving; and the mouth wished he might never speak again if he
took in the least bit of nourishment for him as long as he lived;
and the teeth said, "May we be rotten if ever we chew a morsel
for him for the future!" This solemn league and covenant was kept
so long, until each of the rebel members pined away to the skin
and bone, and could hold out no longer. Then they found there was
no doing without the Belly, and that, as idle and insignificant
as he seemed, he contributed as much to the maintenance and
welfare of all the other parts as they did to his.
MORAL.
Men are dependent upon their fellow-creatures, and it is foolish
to expect we can do without the help of others.
FABLE LVI.
THE CUR, THE HORSE, AND THE SHEPHERD'S DOG.
A VILLAGE Cur, of snappish race,
The pertest puppy in the place,
Imagined that his treble throat
Was blessed with music's sweetest note;
In the mid road he basking lay,
The yelping nuisance of the way;
For not a creature passed along,
But had a sample of his song.
Soon as the trotting steed he hears,
He starts, he cocks his dapper ears;
Away he scours, assaults his hoof;
Now near him snarls, now barks aloof;
With shrill impertinence attends;
Nor leaves him till the village ends.
It chanced, upon his evil day,
A Pad came pacing down the way;
The Cur, with never-ceasing tongue,
Upon the passing traveller sprung.
The Horse, from scorn provoked to ire,
Flung backward; rolling in the mire,
The Puppy howled, and bleeding lay;
The Pad in peace pursued his way.
A Shepherd's Dog, who saw the deed,
Detesting the vexatious breed,
Bespoke him thus: "When coxcombs prate,
They kindle wrath, contempt, or hate;
Thy teasing tongue, had judgment tied,
Thou hadst not like a Puppy died."
MORAL.
Too late the forward youth will find
That jokes are sometimes paid in kind;
Or, if they canker in the breast,
He makes a foe who makes a jest.
FABLE LVII.
THE JACKDAW AND THE EAGLE.
An Eagle flew down from the top of a high rock, and settled upon
the back of a lamb, and then, instantly flying up into the air
again, bore his bleating prize aloft in his talons. A Jackdaw,
who sat upon an elm, and beheld his exploit, resolved to imitate
it. So, flying upon the back of a ram, and entangling his claws
in the wool, he fell a-chattering and attempting to fly; by which
means he drew the observation of the shepherd upon him, who,
finding his feet hampered in the fleece of the ram, easily took
him, and gave him to his boys for their sport and diversion,
saying, "The silly bird thought he was an Eagle; but, no doubt,
by this time he has found out he is but a Jackdaw."
MORAL.
A false estimate of our own abilities ever exposes us to
ridicule, and often to danger.
[Illustration: THE JACKDAW AND THE EAGLE.]
FABLE LVIII.
THE ASS AND THE LION HUNTING.
The Lion took a fancy to hunt in company with the Ass; and, to
make him the more useful, gave him instructions to hide himself
in a thicket, and then to bray in the most frightful manner that
he could possibly contrive. "By this means," says he, "you will
rouse all the beasts within hearing of you, while I stand at the
outlets and take them as they are making off." This was done; and
the stratagem took effect accordingly. The Ass brayed most
hideously, and the timorous beasts, not knowing what to make of
it, began to scour off as fast as they could; when the Lion, who
was posted at a convenient place, seized and devoured them as he
pleased.
Having got his belly full, he called out to the Ass, and bid him
leave off braying, as he had had enough. Upon this the lop-eared
brute came out of his ambush, and, approaching the Lion, asked
him, with an air of conceit, "how he liked his performance."
"Prodigiously," says he; "you did it so well, that I protest, had
I not known your nature and temper, I might have been frightened
myself."
MORAL.
Boastful cowards may impose upon those who do not know them, but
are held to be only ridiculous by those who do. Pompous persons
who would wish themselves thought perfect Lions, when known are
mostly found arrant Asses.
FABLE LIX.
THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S CLOTHING.
A WOLF clothing himself in the skin of a Sheep, and getting in
among the flock, by this means took the opportunity to devour
many of them. At last, the Shepherd discovered him, and cunningly
fastened a rope about his neck, tying him up to a tree which
stood hard by.
Some other Shepherds happening to pass that way, and observing
what he was about, drew near, and expressed their wonder at it.
"What," says one of them, "Brother, do you hang Sheep?" "No,"
replies the other; "I hang a Wolf whenever I catch him, though in
the habit and garb of Sheep." Then he showed them their mistake,
and they applauded the justice of the execution.
MORAL.
Those who try to seem what they are not will not always thereby
escape the punishment of what they are.
FABLE LX.
THE TWO BEES.
On a fine morning in May, two Bees set forward in quest of honey;
the one, wise and temperate; the other, careless and extravagant.
They soon arrived at a garden enriched with aromatic herbs, the
most fragrant flowers, and the most delicious fruits. They
regaled themselves for a time on the various dainties that were
set before them: the one loading his thigh at intervals with
provisions for the hive against the distant winter, the other
revelling in sweets, without regard to anything but his present
gratification.
At length, they found a wide-mouthed vial, that hung beneath the
bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey ready tempered, and
exposed to their taste in the most alluring manner. The
thoughtless Epicure, spite of all his friend's remonstrances,
plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself in
all the pleasures of sensuality. The Philosopher, on the other
hand, sipped a little with caution, but, being suspicious of
danger, flew off to fruits and flowers; where, by the moderation
of his meals, he improved his relish for the true enjoyment of
them.
In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to inquire
whether he would return to the hive, but found him surfeited in
sweets, which he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in
his wings, enfeebled in his feet, and his whole frame totally
enervated, he was but just able to bid his friend adieu, and to
lament, with his latest breath, that though a taste of pleasure
may quicken the relish of life, an unrestrained indulgence is
inevitable destruction.
MORAL.
Moderation rewards and intemperance punishes itself.
FABLE LXI.
THE TURKEY AND THE ANT.
A TURKEY, tired of common food,
Forsook the barn, and sought the wood;
Behind her ran her infant train,
Collecting here and there a grain.
"Draw near, my birds," the mother cries,
"This hill delicious fare supplies;
Behold the busy negro race,
See millions blacken all the place.
Fear not: like me, with freedom eat;
An Ant is most delightful meat.
How blessed, how envied were our life,
Could we but 'scape the poulterer's knife!
But man, cursed man, on Turkeys preys,
And Christmas shortens all our days.
Sometimes with oysters we combine;
Sometimes assist the savoury chine:
From the low peasant to the lord,
The Turkey smokes on every board;
Sure, men for gluttony are cursed,
Of the seven deadly sins, the worst."
An Ant, who climbed beyond her reach,
Thus answered from the neighbouring beech:
"Ere you remark another's sin,
Bid thy own conscience look within;
Control thy more voracious bill,
Nor, for a breakfast, nations kill."
MORAL.
In other folks we faults can spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little speck and blemish find:
To our own stronger errors blind.
FABLE LXII.
THE DOG AND THE WOLF.
A LEAN, hungry, half-starved Wolf happened, one moonshiny night,
to meet a jolly, plump, well-fed Mastiff; and after the first
compliments were passed, says the Wolf, "You look extremely well;
I protest, I think I never saw a more graceful, comely person;
but how comes it about, I beseech you, that you should live so
much better than I? I may say, without vanity, that I venture
fifty times more than you do, and yet I am almost ready to perish
with hunger." The Dog answered very bluntly, "Why, you may live
as well, if you do the same for it as I do." "Indeed! what is
that?" says he. "Why," says the Dog, "only to guard the house at
night, and keep it from thieves." "With all my heart," replies
the Wolf, "for at present I have but a sorry time of it; and I
think to change my hard lodging in the woods, where I endure
rain, frost, and snow, for a warm roof over my head and enough of
good victuals, will be no bad bargain." "True," says the Dog;
"therefore you have nothing to do but to follow me."
[Illustration: THE HOUSE DOG AND THE WOLF.]
Now, as they were jogging on together, the Wolf spied a crease
in the Dog's neck, and having a strange curiosity, could not
forbear asking him what it meant! "Pugh! nothing," says the Dog.
"Nay, but pray," says the Wolf. "Why," says the Dog, "if you must
know, I am tied up in the day-time, because I am a little fierce,
for fear I should bite people, and am only let loose at nights.
But this is done with a design to make me sleep by day, more than
anything else, and that I may watch the better in the night time;
for, as soon as ever the twilight appears, out I am turned, and
may go where I please. Then my master brings me plates of bones
from the table with his own hands; and whatever scraps are left
by any of the family, all fall to my share; for, you must know, I
am a favourite with everybody. So you see how you are to
live.--Come, come along; what is the matter with you?" "No,"
replied the Wolf, "I beg your pardon; keep your happiness all to
yourself. Liberty is the word with me; and I would not be a king
upon the terms you mention."
MORAL.
The lowest condition of life, with freedom, is happier than the
greatest without it. The bird of the air, though he roosts on a
bough, has more real joy than the well-fed captive in a gilded
cage.
FABLE LXIII.
THE SATYR AND THE TRAVELLER.
A SATYR, as he was ranging the forest in an exceedingly cold, snowy
season, met with a Traveller half starved with the extremity of the
weather. He took compassion on him, and kindly invited him home to a
warm, comfortable cave he had in a hollow of a rock. As soon as they
had entered and sat down, notwithstanding there was a good fire in
the place, the chilled Traveller could not forbear blowing his
finger-ends.
Upon the Satyr asking him why he did so, he answered that he did
it to warm his hands. The honest Sylvan having seen little of the
world, admired a man who was master of so valuable a quality as
that of blowing heat; and, therefore, was resolved to entertain
him in the best manner he could. He spread the table before him
with dried fruits of several sorts, and produced a remnant of
cold cordial wine, which, as the rigour of the season made very
proper, he mulled with some warm spices, over the fire, and
presented to his shivering guest. But this the Traveller thought
fit to blow likewise; and upon the Satyr's demanding the reason
why he blowed again, he replied, to cool the dish.
This second answer provoked the Satyr's indignation, as much as
the first had kindled his surprise; so, taking the man by the
shoulder, he thrust him out, saying he would have nothing to do
with a wretch who had so vile a quality as to blow hot and cold
with the same mouth.
MORAL.
Double dealing is always detestable. The man that blows hot and
cold at the same time is not worthy to be trusted; the sooner we
part from him the better.
FABLE LXIV.
THE BARLEY-MOW AND THE DUNGHILL.
As 'CROSS his yard, at early day,
A careful farmer took his way,
He stopped, and leaning on his fork,
Observed the flail's incessant work.
In thought he measured all his store;
His geese, his hogs, he numbered o'er;
In fancy weighed the fleeces shorn,
And multiplied the next year's corn.
A Barley-Mow, which stood beside,
Thus to its musing master cried:
"Say, good sir, is it fit or right,
To treat me with neglect and slight?
Me, who contribute to your cheer,
And raise your mirth with ale and beer!
Why thus insulted, thus disgraced,
And that vile Dunghill near me placed?
Are those poor sweepings of a groom,
That filthy sight, that nauseous fume,
Meet objects here? Command it hence:
A thing so mean must give offence."
The humble Dunghill thus replied:
"Thy master hears, and mocks thy pride.
Insult not thus the meek and low;
In me thy benefactor know:
My warm assistance gave thee birth,
Or thou hadst perished low in earth:
But upstarts, to support their station,
Cancel at once all obligation."
FABLE LXV.
THE SHEEP-BITER AND SHEPHERD.
A CERTAIN Shepherd had a Dog, upon whose fidelity he relied very
much; for whenever he had occasion to be absent himself, he
committed the care and tuition of the flock to the charge of his
Dog; and, to encourage him to do his duty cheerfully, he fed him
constantly with sweet curds and whey, and sometimes threw him a
crust or two. Yet, notwithstanding this, no sooner was his back
turned, but the treacherous cur fell foul of the flock, and
devoured the sheep, instead of guarding and defending them. The
Shepherd being informed of this, was resolved to hang him; and
the Dog, when the rope was about his neck, and he was just going
to be hung, began to expostulate with his master, asking him, why
he was so unmercifully bent against him, who was his own servant
and creature, and had only committed two or three crimes, and why
he did not rather execute vengeance upon the Wolf, who was a
constant and declared enemy? "Nay," replies the Shepherd, "it is
for that very reason that I think you ten times more deserving of
death than he. From him I expected nothing but hostilities; and
therefore could guard against him. You I depended upon as a just
and faithful servant, and fed and encouraged you accordingly; and
therefore your treachery is the more notorious, and your
ingratitude the more unpardonable."
MORAL.
A known enemy is better than a treacherous friend.
FABLE LXVI.
THE STAG AT THE POOL.
A STAG that had been drinking at a clear spring, saw himself in
the water; and, pleased with the sight, stood long contemplating
and surveying his shape and features from head to foot. "Ah!"
says he, "what a glorious pair of branching horns are there! How
gracefully do those antlers hang over my forehead, and give an
agreeable turn to my whole face! If some other parts of my body
were but in proportion to them, I would turn my back to nobody;
but I have a set of such legs as really make me ashamed to see
them. People may talk what they please of their conveniences, and
what great need we stand in of them, upon several occasions; but,
for my part, I find them so very slender and unsightly that I had
as lief have none at all."
While he was giving himself these airs, he was alarmed with the
noise of some huntsmen and a pack of hounds that had been just
laid on upon the scent, and were making towards him.
[Illustration: THE STAG AT THE POOL.]
Away he flees in some consternation, and, bounding nimbly over
the plain, threw dogs and men at a vast distance behind him.
After which, taking a very thick copse, he had the ill-fortune to
be entangled by his horns in a thicket, where he was held
fast, till the hounds came in and pulled him down. Finding now
how it was likely to go with him, in the pangs of death, he is
said to have uttered these words:--"Unhappy creature that I am! I
am too late convinced that what I prided myself in has been the
cause of my undoing, and what I so much disliked was the only
thing that could have saved me."
MORAL.
Beauty often becomes a snare and ruin, while solid virtue, though
unadorned, gains respect. The latter, too, will mature with age,
while the former will surely fade.
FABLE LXVII.
THE OLD SWALLOWS AND THE YOUNG BIRDS.
A SWALLOW, observing a husbandman employed in sowing hemp, called
the little Birds together, and informed them what the farmer was
about. He told them that hemp was the material from which the
nets, so fatal to the feathered race, were composed; and advised
them unanimously to join in picking it up, in order to prevent
the consequences.
The Birds, either disbelieving his information, or neglecting his
advice, gave themselves no trouble about the matter. In a little
time, the hemp appeared above the ground. The friendly Swallow
again addressed himself to them--told them it was not yet too
late, provided they would immediately set about the work, before
the seeds had taken too deep root. But, they still rejecting his
advice, he forsook their society; repaired, for safety, to towns
and cities; there built his habitation, and kept his residence.
One day, as he was skimming along the streets, he happened to see
a great number of these very Birds, imprisoned in a cage, on the
shoulders of a bird-catcher. "Unhappy wretches!" said he, "you
now feel the punishment of your former neglect. But those who,
having no foresight of their own, despise the wholesome
admonition of their friends, deserve the mischiefs which their
own obstinacy or negligence bring upon their heads."
MORAL.
This Fable teaches thoughtless youth
A most important moral truth:--
The seeds, which proved the young birds' ruin,
Are emblems of their own undoing,
Should they neglect, while yet 'tis time,
To pluck the early shoots of crime;
Or, in their own opinions wise,
The counsel of their friends despise.
For evil habits, left to grow,
Are ever sure to lead to woe;
But checked in time with vigorous hand,
Will bend to virtue's firm command.
FABLE LXVIII.
THE WAGGONER AND THE BUTTERFLY.
The rain so soft had made the road,
That, in a rut, a waggon-load,
The poor man's harvest, (bitter luck!)
Sank down a foot, and there it stuck.
He whipped his horses, but in vain;
They pulled and splashed, and pulled again,
But vainly still; the slippery soil
Defied their strength, and mocked their toil.
Panting they stood, with legs outspread;
The driver stood, and scratched his head:
(A common custom, by-the-bye,
When people know not what to try,
Though not, it seems, a remedy).
A Butterfly, in flower concealed,
Had travelled with them from the field;
Who in the waggon was thrown up,
While feasting on a buttercup.
The panting of each labouring beast
Disturbed her at her fragrant feast;
The sudden stop, the driver's sigh,
Awoke her generous sympathy.
And, seeing the distressing case
She cried, while springing from her place,
(Imagining her tiny freight
A vast addition to the weight,)
"I must have pity--and be gone,
Now, master Waggoner, drive on."
MORAL.
Do not admire this Butterfly,
Young reader; I will tell you why.
At first, goodnature seems a cause,
Why she should merit your applause;
But 'twas conceit that filled her breast:
Her self-importance made a jest
Of what might otherwise have claimed
Your praise,--but now she must be blamed.
Should any case occur, when you
May have some friendly act to do;
Give all _your feeble aid_--as such,
But estimate it not too much.
FABLE LXIX.
THE LION, THE BEAR, AND THE FOX.
A LION and a Bear quarrelling over the carcase of a Fawn, which
they found in the forest, their title to him had to be decided by
force of arms. The battle was severe and tough on both sides, and
they fought it out, tearing and worrying one another so long,
that, what with wounds and fatigue, they were so faint and weary,
that they were not able to strike another stroke. Thus, while
they lay upon the ground, panting and lolling out their tongues,
a Fox chanced to pass by that way, who, perceiving how the case
stood, very impudently stepped in between them, seized the booty
which they had all this while been contending for, and carried it
off. The two combatants, who lay and beheld all this, without
having strength to stir and prevent it, were only wise enough to
make this reflection:--"Behold the fruits of our strife and
contention! That villain, the Fox, bears away the prize, and we
ourselves have deprived each other of the power to recover it
from him."
MORAL.
When fools quarrel, knaves get the prize of contention.
FABLE LXX.
THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.
In days of yore, when a young Fox would take more pains to get a
bunch of grapes than a plump, fat goose, an arch young thief cast
his eyes on a fine bunch which hung on the top of a poor man's
vine, and made him lick his lips like a hound at the sight of a
joint of meat. "Oh," said he, "how nice they look! I must have a
taste of them, if I die for it;" and with that, up he jumped with
all his might, but had the ill-luck not to reach the grapes; yet,
as he could not find in his heart to leave them, he tried for
them as long as he was able; so he leaped and jumped, and jumped
and leaped, till at last he was glad to rest. But when he found
all his pains were in vain, "Hang them!" said he, "I am sure they
are not fit to eat, for they are as sour as crabs, and would set
my teeth on edge for a whole week; and so I shall leave them for
the next fool who may chance to come this way."
MORAL.
Some men make light of that which is out of their reach, though
at the same time in their hearts they know not what to do for
want of it.
[Illustration: THE FOX AND THE GRAPES.]
FABLE LXXI.
THE HARE AND MANY FRIENDS.
A HARE, who, in a civil way,
Complied with everything, like Gay,
Was known by all the bestial train,
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.
As forth she went, at early dawn,
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the hunter's cries,
And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near approach of death;
She doubles, to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear, she gasping lay:--
What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the Horse appeared in view!
"Let me," says she, "your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend;
You know my feet betray my flight;
To friendship, ev'ry burthen's light."
The Horse replied,--"Poor, honest Puss!
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted,--relief is near;
For all our friends are in the rear."
She next the stately Bull implored,
And thus replied the mighty lord:--
"Since every beast alive can tell,
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offence, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend.
Love calls me hence; a favourite cow
Expects me near yon barley-mow;
And when a lady's in the case,
You know, all other things give place.
To leave you thus may seem unkind;
But see,--the Goat is just behind."
The Goat remarked her pulse was high;
Her languid head, her heavy eye;
"My back," says she, "may do you harm;
The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."
The Sheep was feeble, and complained,
His sides a load of wool sustained;
Said he was slow; confessed his fears;
For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.
She now the trotting Calf addressed,
To save from death a friend distressed.
"Shall I," says he, "of tender age,
In this important care engage?
Older and abler pass you by;
How strong are those! how weak am I!
Should I presume to bear you hence,
Those friends of mine may take offence.
Excuse me, then,--you know my heart;
But dearest friends, alas! must part.
How shall we all lament!--Adieu!
For see, the Hounds are just in view."
MORAL.
Friendships are single: who depend
On many rarely find a friend.
FABLE LXXII.
THE COCK AND THE FOX.