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[Illustration: A HUNDRED FABLES OF LA FONTAINE
WITH PICTURES BY PERCY J. BILLINGHURST]
A HUNDRED FABLES OF
LA FONTAINE
[Illustration]
A HUNDRED FABLES
OF
LA FONTAINE
WITH PICTURES BY PERCY J. BILLINGHURST
LONDON
JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK JOHN LANE COMPANY
_SECOND EDITION_
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
CONTENTS
A
_Page_
_The Acorn and the Pumpkin_ 128
_The Animals Sick of the Plague_ 200
_The Ape_ 90
_The Ass and his Masters_ 34
_The Ass and the Dog_ 120
_The Ass and the Little Dog_ 18
_The Ass Carrying Relics_ 26
_The Ass Dressed in the Lion's Skin_ 166
_The Ass Loaded with Sponges_ 72
B
_The Bat and the Two Weasels_ 66
_The Battle of the Rats and the Weasels_ 198
_The Bear and the Two Companions_ 194
_The Bird Wounded by an Arrow_ 68
C
_The Camel and the Floating Sticks_ 82
_The Carter in the Mire_ 104
_The Cat and the Fox_ 138
_The Cat and the Two Sparrows_ 150
_The Cock and the Fox_ 76
_The Council held by the Rats_ 62
_The Countryman and the Serpent_ 102
_The Cunning Fox_ 88
D
_Death and the Woodman_ 56
_The Dog and his Master's Dinner_ 110
_The Dog whose Ears were Cropped_ 144
_The Dove and the Ant_ 74
_The Dragon with many Heads_ 54
E
_The Eagle and the Magpie_ 94
_The Eagle and the Owl_ 184
_The Ears of the Hare_ 22
_The Earthen Pot and the Iron Pot_ 192
_Education_ 122
F
_The Fool who Sold Wisdom_ 130
_The Fox, the Flies, and the Hedgehog_ 92
_The Fox, the Monkey, and the Animals_ 98
_The Fox and the Turkeys_ 172
_The Fox, the Wolf, and the Horse_ 170
G
_The Grasshopper and the Ant_ 2
H
_The Hare and the Partridge_ 28
_The Head and the Tail of the Serpent_ 108
_The Heifer, the Goat, and the Sheep_ 48
_The Heron_ 106
_The Hog, the Goat, and the Sheep_ 116
_The Hornets and the Bees_ 58
_The Horse and the Wolf_ 182
J
_The Joker and the Fishes_ 112
L
_The Lion and the Ass Hunting_ 8
_The Lion and the Hunter_ 96
_The Lion and the Gnat_ 70
_The Lion and the Monkey_ 178
_The Lion beaten by the Man_ 78
_The Lioness and the Bear_ 146
_The Lion Going to War_ 30
_The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox_ 196
_The Lobster and her Daughter_ 162
M
_The Man and his Image_ 52
_The Man and the Wooden God_ 20
_The Man and the Owl_ 148
_The Miser and the Monkey_ 186
_The Monkey and the Cat_ 140
_The Monkey and the Leopard_ 126
N
_Nothing too Much_ 136
O
_The Oak and the Reed_ 60
_The Old Cat and the Young Mouse_ 154
_The Old Man and the Ass_ 32
_The Old Woman and her Servants_ 24
_The Oyster and the Litigants_ 132
P
_Philomet and Progne_ 80
_The Ploughman and his Sons_ 164
Q
_The Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats_ 158
R
_The Rat and the Elephant_ 118
_The Rat and the Oyster_ 114
_The Rat Retired from the World_ 86
S
_The Shepherd and his Dog_ 44
_The Shepherd and his Flock_ 38
_The Shepherd and the Lion_ 180
_The Shepherd and the Sea_ 16
_The Sick Stag_ 156
_The Spider and the Swallow_ 142
_The Stag and the Vine_ 190
_The Sun and the Frogs_ 100
_The Swan and the Cook_ 12
T
_The Thieves and the Ass_ 4
_The Tortoise and the Two Ducks_ 40
_The Two Asses_ 42
_The Two Bulls and the Frog_ 64
_The Two Dogs and the Dead Ass_ 124
_The Two Goats_ 152
_The Two Mules_ 46
_The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg_ 50
V
_The Vultures and the Pigeons_ 188
W
_The Wallet_ 174
_The Wax-Candle_ 36
_The Weasel in the Granary_ 14
_The Wolf Accusing the Fox_ 6
_The Wolf and the Fox_ 160
_The Wolf and the Lean Dog_ 134
_The Wolf, the Goat, and the Kid_ 84
_The Wolf turned Shepherd_ 10
_The Woodman and Mercury_ 176
_The Woods and the Woodman_ 168
A HUNDRED FABLES OF LA FONTAINE
The Grasshopper and the Ant.
A grasshopper gay
Sang the summer away,
And found herself poor
By the winter's first roar.
Of meat or of bread,
Not a morsel she had!
So a-begging she went,
To her neighbour the ant,
For the loan of some wheat,
Which would serve her to eat,
Till the season came round.
"I will pay you," she saith,
"On an animal's faith,
Double weight in the pound
Ere the harvest be bound."
The ant is a friend
(And here she might mend)
Little given to lend.
"How spent you the summer?"
Quoth she, looking shame
At the borrowing dame.
"Night and day to each comer
I sang, if you please."
"You sang! I'm at ease;
For 'tis plain at a glance,
Now, ma'am, you must dance."
[Illustration: THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.]
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_
[Illustration: THE THIEVES AND THE ASS.]
The Wolf Accusing the Fox.
A wolf, affirming his belief
That he had suffer'd by a thief,
Brought up his neighbour fox--
Of whom it was by all confess'd,
His character was not the best--
To fill the prisoner's box.
As judge between these vermin,
A monkey graced the ermine;
And truly other gifts of Themis
Did scarcely seem his;
For while each party plead his cause,
Appealing boldly to the laws,
And much the question vex'd,
Our monkey sat perplex'd.
Their words and wrath expended,
Their strife at length was ended;
When, by their malice taught,
The judge this judgment brought:
"Your characters, my friends, I long have known,
As on this trial clearly shown;
And hence I fine you both--the grounds at large
To state would little profit--
You wolf, in short, as bringing groundless charge,
You fox, as guilty of it."
_Come at it right or wrong, the judge opined_
_No other than a villain could be fined_
[Illustration: THE WOLF ACCUSING THE FOX BEFORE THE MONKEY.]
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 aide-de-camp an ass,
A creature of stentorian voice,
That felt much honour'd by the choice.
The lion hid him in a proper station,
And order'd him to bray, for his vocation,
Assured that his tempestuous cry
The boldest beasts would terrify,
And cause them from their lairs to fly.
And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made
Did strike the tenants of the wood with dread;
And, as they headlong fled,
All fell within the lion's ambuscade.
"Has not my service glorious
Made both of us victorious?"
Cried out the much-elated ass.
"Yes," said the lion; "bravely bray'd!
Had I not known yourself and race,
I should have been myself afraid!"
The donkey, had he dared,
With anger would have flared
At this retort, though justly made;
For who could suffer boasts to pass
So ill-befitting to an ass?
[Illustration: THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING.]
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 bless'd the hypocrite their slumber,
And hoped to drive away the flock,
Could he the shepherd's voice but mock.
He thought undoubtedly he could.
He tried: the tone in which he spoke,
Loud echoing from the wood,
The plot and slumber broke;
Sheep, dog, and man awoke.
The wolf, in sorry plight,
In hampering coat bedight,
Could neither run nor fight.
_There's always leakage of deceit_
_Which makes it never safe to cheat._
_Whoever is a wolf had better_
_Keep clear of hypocritic fetter._
[Illustration: THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.]
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 favourite on the platter.
They swam the ditches, side by side,
And oft in sports aquatic vied,
Plunging, splashing far and wide,
With rivalry ne'er satisfied.
One day the cook, named Thirsty John,
Sent for the gosling, took the swan
In haste his throat to cut,
And put him in the pot.
The bird's complaint resounded
In glorious melody;
Whereat the cook, astounded
His sad mistake to see,
Cried, "What! make soup of a musician!
Please God, I'll never set such dish on.
No, no; I'll never cut a throat
That sings so sweet a note."
_'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us,_
_Sweet words will never harm us._
[Illustration: THE SWAN AND THE COOK.]
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 cherish'd;
Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored
That by her gnawing perish'd!
Of which the consequence
Was sudden corpulence.
A week or so was past,
When having fully broken fast,
A noise she heard, and hurried
To find the hole by which she came,
And seem'd to find it not the same;
So round she ran, most sadly flurried;
And, coming back, thrust out her head,
Which, sticking there, she said,
"This is the hole, there can't be blunder:
What makes it now so small, I wonder,
Where, but the other day, I pass'd with ease?"
A rat her trouble sees,
And cries, "But with an emptier belly;
You enter'd lean, and lean must sally."
[Illustration: THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.]
The Shepherd and the Sea.
A shepherd, neighbour to the sea,
Lived with his flock contentedly.
His fortune, though but small,
Was safe within his call.
At last some stranded kegs of gold
Him tempted, and his flock he sold,
Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves
Bore all his treasure--to its caves.
Brought back to keeping sheep once more,
But not chief shepherd, as before,
When sheep were his that grazed the shore,
He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis,
Might once have shone in pastoral verses,
Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre,
Was nothing now but Peter.
But time and toil redeem'd in full
Those harmless creatures rich in wool;
And as the lulling winds, one day,
The vessels wafted with a gentle motion,
"Want you," he cried, "more money, Madam Ocean?
Address yourself to some one else, I pray;
You shall not get it out of me!
I know too well your treachery."
_This tale's no fiction, but a fact,_
_Which, by experience back'd,_
_Proves that a single penny,_
_At present held, and certain,_
_Is worth five times as many,_
_Of Hope's, beyond the curtain;_
_That one should be content with his condition,_
_And shut his ears to counsels of ambition,_
_More faithless than the wreck-strown sea, and which_
_Doth thousands beggar where it makes one rich,--_
_Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms,_
_And blasts the same with piracy and storms._
[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA.]
The Ass and the Little Dog.
One's native talent from its course
Cannot be turned aside by force;
But poorly apes the country clown
The polish'd manners of the town.
Their Maker chooses but a few
With power of pleasing to imbue;
Where wisely leave it we, the mass,
Unlike a certain fabled ass,
That thought to gain his master's blessing
By jumping on him and caressing.
"What!" said the donkey in his heart;
"Ought it to be that puppy's part
To lead his useless life
In full companionship
With master and his wife,
While I must bear the whip?
What doth the cur a kiss to draw?
Forsooth, he only gives his paw!
If that is all there needs to please,
I'll do the thing myself, with ease."
Possess'd with this bright notion,--
His master sitting on his chair,
At leisure in the open air,--
He ambled up, with awkward motion,
And put his talents to the proof;
Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof,
And, with an amiable mien,
His master patted on the chin,
The action gracing with a word--
The fondest bray that e'er was heard!
O, such caressing was there ever?
Or melody with such a quaver?
"Ho! Martin! 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.
[Illustration: THE ASS AND THE LITTLE DOG.]
The Man and the Wooden God.
A pagan kept a god of wood,--
A sort that never hears,
Though furnish'd well with ears,--
From which he hoped for wondrous good.
The idol cost the board of three;
So much enrich'd was he
With vows and offerings vain,
With bullocks garlanded and slain:
No idol ever had, as that,
A kitchen quite so full and fat.
But all this worship at his shrine
Brought not from this same block divine
Inheritance, or hidden mine,
Or luck at play, or any favour.
Nay, more, if any storm whatever
Brew'd trouble here or there,
The man was sure to have his share,
And suffer in his purse,
Although the god fared none the worse.
At last, by sheer impatience bold,
The man a crowbar seizes,
His idol breaks in pieces,
And finds it richly stuff'd with gold.
"How's this? Have I devoutly treated,"
Says he, "your godship, to be cheated?
Now leave my house, and go your way,
And search for altars where you may."
[Illustration: THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.]
The Ears of the Hare.
Some beast with horns did gore
The lion; and that sovereign dread,
Resolved to suffer so no more,
Straight banish'd from his realm, 'tis said,
All sorts of beasts with horns--
Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns.
Such brutes all promptly fled.
A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving,
Could hardly help believing
That some vile spy for horns would take them,
And food for accusation make them.
"Adieu," said he, "my neighbour cricket;
I take my foreign ticket.
My ears, should I stay here,
Will turn to horns, I fear;
And were they shorter than a bird's,
I fear the effect of words."
"These horns!" the cricket answer'd; "why,
God made them ears who can deny?"
"Yes," said the coward, "still they'll make them horns,
And horns, perhaps, of unicorns!
In vain shall I protest,
With all the learning of the schools:
My reasons they will send to rest
In th' Hospital of Fools."
[Illustration: THE EARS OF THE HARE.]
The Old Woman and Her 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 coil'd unceasingly.
Soon as the dawn, I say, its tresses show'd,
A graceless cock most punctual crow'd.
The beldam roused, more graceless yet,
In greasy petticoat bedight,
Struck up her farthing light,
And then forthwith the bed beset,
Where deeply, blessedly did snore
Those two maid-servants tired and poor.
One oped an eye, an arm one stretch'd,
And both their breath most sadly fetch'd,
This threat concealing in the sigh--
"That cursed cock shall surely die!"
And so he did:--they cut his throat,
And put to sleep his rousing note.
And yet this murder mended not
The cruel hardship of their lot;
For now the twain were scarce in bed
Before they heard the summons dread.
The beldam, full of apprehension
Lest oversleep should cause detention,
Ran like a goblin through her mansion.
_Thus often, when one thinks_
_To clear himself from ill,_
_His effort only sinks_
_Him in the deeper still._
_The beldam acting for the cock,_
_Was Scylla for Charybdis' rock._
[Illustration: THE OLD WOMAN AND HER TWO SERVANTS.]
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 honour'd for his robe of state._
[Illustration: THE ASS CARRYING RELICS.]
The Hare and the Partridge.
A field in common share
A partridge and a hare,
And live in peaceful state,
Till, woeful to relate!
The hunters' mingled cry
Compels the hare to fly.
He hurries to his fort,
And spoils almost the sport
By faulting every hound
That yelps upon the ground.
At last his reeking heat
Betrays his snug retreat.
Old Tray, with philosophic nose,
Snuffs carefully, and grows
So certain, that he cries,
"The hare is here; bow wow!"
And veteran Ranger now,--
The dog that never lies,--
"The hare is gone," replies.
Alas! poor, wretched hare,
Back comes he to his lair,
To meet destruction there!
The partridge, void of fear,
Begins her friend to jeer:--
"You bragg'd of being fleet;
How serve you, now, your feet?"
Scarce has she ceased to speak,--
The laugh yet in her beak,--
When comes her turn to die,
From which she could not fly.
She thought her wings, indeed,
Enough for every need;
But in her laugh and talk,
Forgot the cruel hawk!
[Illustration: THE HARE AND THE PARTRIDGE.]
The Lion Going to War.
The lion had an enterprise in hand;
Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal,
And gave the animals a call impartial--
Each, in his way, to serve his high command.
The elephant should carry on his back
The tools of war, the mighty public pack,
And fight in elephantine way and form;
The bear should hold himself prepared to storm;
The fox all secret stratagems should fix;
The monkey should amuse the foe by tricks.
"Dismiss," said one, "the blockhead asses,
And hares, too cowardly and fleet."
"No," said the king; "I use all classes;
Without their aid my force were incomplete.
The ass shall be our trumpeter, to scare
Our enemy. And then the nimble hare
Our royal bulletins shall homeward bear."
_A monarch provident and wise_
_Will hold his subjects all of consequence,_
_And know in each what talent lies._
_There's nothing useless to a man of sense._
[Illustration: THE LION GOING TO WAR.]
The Old Man and the Ass.
An old man, riding on his ass,
Had found a spot of thrifty grass,
And there turn'd loose his weary beast.
Old Grizzle, pleased with such a feast,
Flung up his heels, and caper'd round,
Then roll'd and rubb'd upon the ground,
And frisk'd and browsed and bray'd,
And many a clean spot made.
Arm'd men came on them as he fed:
"Let's fly," in haste the old man said.
"And wherefore so?" the ass replied;
"With heavier burdens will they ride?"
"No," said the man, already started.
"Then," cried the ass, as he departed
"I'll stay, and be--no matter whose;
Save you yourself, and leave me loose
But let me tell you, ere you go,
(I speak plain English, as you know,)
My master is my only foe."
[Illustration: THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.]
The Ass and his Masters.
A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny
Of being made to rise before the dawn.
"The cocks their matins have not sung," said he,
"Ere I am up and gone.
And all for what? To market herbs, it seems.
Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!"
Fate, moved by such a prayer,
Sent him a currier's load to bear,
Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were,
They almost choked the foolish beast.
"I wish me with my former lord," he said:
"For then, whene'er he turn'd his head,
If on the watch, I caught
A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought.
But, in this horrid place, I find
No chance or windfall of the kind;--
Or if, indeed, I do,
The cruel blows I rue."
Anon it came to pass
He was a collier's ass.
Still more complaint. "What now?" said Fate,
Quite out of patience.
"If on this jackass I must wait,
What will become of kings and nations?
Has none but he aught here to tease him?
Have I no business but to please him?"
And Fate had cause;--for all are so
Unsatisfied while here below.
Our present lot is aye the worst.
Our foolish prayers the skies infest.
Were Jove to grant all we request,
The din renew'd, his head would burst.
[Illustration: THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS.]
The Wax-Candle.
From bowers 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 robb'd these daughters of the sky,
And left their palaces of nectar dry,--
Or, in English as the thing's explain'd,
When hives were of their honey drain'd--
The spoilers 'gan the wax to handle,
And fashion'd from it many a candle.
Of these, one, seeing clay, made brick by fire,
Remain uninjured by the teeth of time,
Was kindled into great desire
For immortality sublime.
And so this new Empedocles
Upon the blazing pile one sees,
Self-doom'd by purest folly
To fate so melancholy.
The candle lack'd philosophy:
All things are made diverse to be.
To wander from our destined tracks--
There cannot be a vainer wish;
But this Empedocles of wax,
That melted in chafing-dish
Was truly not a greater fool
Than he of whom we read at school.
[Illustration: THE WAX-CANDLE.]
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 follow'd for a bit of bread
His master through the crowded city,
And would have follow'd, had he led,
Around the world. Oh! what a pity!
My pipe, and even step, he knew;
To meet me when I came, he flew;
In hedge-row shade we napp'd together;
Alas, alas, my Robin Wether!"
When Willy thus had duly said
His eulogy upon the dead,
And unto everlasting fame
Consign'd poor Robin Wether's name,
He then harangued the flock at large,
From proud old chieftain rams
Down to the smallest lambs,
Addressing them this weighty charge,--
Against the wolf, as one, to stand,
In firm, united, fearless band,
By which they might expel him from their land.
Upon their faith, they would not flinch,
They promised him, a single inch.
"We'll choke," said they, "the murderous glutton
Who robb'd 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 boast and mettle:_
_Your own example will be vain,_
_And exhortations, to retain_
_The timid cattle._
[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD AND HIS FLOCK.]
The Tortoise and the Two Ducks.
A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently,
Tired of her hole, the world would see.
Prone are all such, self-banish'd, to roam--
Prone are all cripples to abhor their home.
Two ducks, to whom the gossip told
The secret of her purpose bold,
Profess'd to have the means whereby
They could her wishes gratify.
"Our boundless road," said they, "behold!
It is the open air;
And through it we will bear
You safe o'er land and ocean.
Republics, kingdoms, you will view,
And famous cities, old and new;
And get of customs, laws, a notion,--
Of various wisdom, various pieces,
As did, indeed, the sage Ulysses."
The eager tortoise waited not
To question what Ulysses got,
But closed the bargain on the spot.
A nice machine the birds devise
To bear their pilgrim through the skies.
Athwart her mouth a stick they throw:
"Now bite it hard, and don't let go,"
They say, and seize each duck an end,
And, swiftly flying, upward tend.
It made the people gape and stare
Beyond the expressive power of words,
To see a tortoise cut the air,
Exactly poised between two birds.
"A miracle," they cried, "is seen!
There goes the flying tortoise queen!"
"The queen!" ('twas thus the tortoise spoke;)
"I'm truly that, without a joke."
Much better had she held her tongue,
For, opening that whereby she clung,
Before the gazing crowd she fell,
And dash'd to bits her brittle shell.
_Imprudence, vanity, and babble,_
_And idle curiosity,_
_An ever-undivided rabble,_
_Have all the same paternity._
[Illustration: THE TORTOISE AND THE TWO DUCKS.]
The Two Asses.
Two asses tracking, t'other day,
Of which each in his turn,
Did incense to the other burn,
Quite in the usual way,--
I heard one to his comrade say,
"My lord, do you not find
The prince of knaves and fools
To be this man, who boasts of mind
Instructed in his schools?
With wit unseemly and profane,
He mocks our venerable race--
On each of his who lacketh brain
Bestows our ancient surname, ass!
And, with abusive tongue portraying,
Describes our laugh and talk as braying!
These bipeds of their folly tell us,
While thus pretending to excel us."
"No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend,
And let their orators attend.
The braying is their own, but let them be:
We understand each other, and agree,
And that's enough. As for your song,
Such wonders to its notes belong,
The nightingale is put to shame,
The Sirens lose one half their fame."
"My lord," the other ass replied,
"Such talents in yourself reside,
Of asses all, the joy and pride."
These donkeys, not quite satisfied
With scratching thus each other's hide,
Must needs the cities visit,
Their fortunes there to raise,
By sounding forth the praise,
Each, of the other's skill exquisite.
[Illustration: THE TWO ASSES.]
The Shepherd and his Dog.
A shepherd, with a single dog,
Was ask'd the reason why
He kept a dog, whose least supply
Amounted to a loaf of bread
For every day. The people said
He'd better give the animal
To guard the village seignior's hall;
For him, a shepherd, it would be
A thriftier economy
To keep small curs, say two or three,
That would not cost him half the food,
And yet for watching be as good.
The fools, perhaps, forgot to tell
If they would fight the wolf as well.
The silly shepherd, giving heed,
Cast off his dog of mastiff breed,
And took three dogs to watch his cattle,
Which ate far less, but fled in battle.
_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._
[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD AND HIS DOG.]
The Two Mules.
Two mules were bearing on their backs,
One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.
The latter glorying in his load,
March'd proudly forward on the road;
And, from the jingle of his bell,
'Twas plain he liked his burden well.
But in a wild-wood glen
A band of robber men
Rush'd forth upon the twain.
Well with the silver pleased,
They by the bridle seized
The treasure mule so vain.
Poor mule! in struggling to repel
His ruthless foes, he fell
Stabb'd through; and with a bitter sighing,
He cried, "Is this the lot they promised me?
My humble friend from danger free,
While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying?"
"My friend," his fellow-mule replied,
"It is not well to have one's work too high.
If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I,
Thou wouldst not thus have died."
[Illustration: THE TWO MULES.]
The Heifer, the Goat, and the Sheep.
The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep,
Compacted their earnings in common to keep,
'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd
Full lordship o'er neighbours, of whatever grade.
The goat, as it happen'd, a stag having snared,
Sent off to the rest, that the beast might be shared.
All gather'd; the lion first counts on his claws,
And says, "We'll proceed to divide with our paws
The stag into pieces, as fix'd by our laws."
This done, he announces part first as his own;
"'Tis mine," he says, "truly, as lion alone."
To such a decision there's nought to be said,
As he who has made it is doubtless the head.
"Well, also, the second to me should belong;
'Tis mine, be it known, by the right of the strong.
Again, as the bravest, the third must be mine.
To touch but the fourth whoso maketh a sign,
I'll choke him to death
In the space of a breath!"
[Illustration: THE HEIFER, THE GOAT, & THE SHEEP.]
The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg.
Two rats in foraging fell on an egg,--
For gentry such as they
A genteel dinner every way;
They needed not to find an ox's leg.
Brimful of joy and appetite,
They were about to sack the box,
So tight without the aid of locks,
When suddenly there came in sight
A personage--Sir Pullet Fox.
Sure, luck was never more untoward
Since Fortune was a vixen froward!
How should they save their egg--and bacon?
Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd;
Should it in forward paws be taken,
Or roll'd along, or dragg'd?
Each method seem'd impossible,
And each was then of danger full.
Necessity, ingenious mother,
Brought forth what help'd them from their pother.
As still there was a chance to save their prey,--
The sponger yet some hundred yards away,--
One seized the egg, and turn'd upon his back,
And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack,
That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail,
The other dragg'd him by the tail.
Who dares the inference to blink,
That beasts possess wherewith to think?
_Were I commission'd to bestow_
_This power on creatures here below,_
_The beasts should have as much of mind_
_As infants of the human kind._
[Illustration: THE TWO RATS THE FOX AND THE EGG.]
The Man and his Image.
A man, who had no rivals in the love
Which to himself he bore,
Esteem'd his own dear beauty far above
What earth had seen before.
More than contented in his error,
He lived the foe of every mirror.
Officious fate, resolved our lover
From such an illness should recover,
Presented always to his eyes
The mute advisers which the ladies prize;--
Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops,--
Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops,--
Mirrors on every lady's zone,
From which his face reflected shone.
What could our dear Narcissus do?
From haunts of men he now withdrew,
On purpose that his precious shape
From every mirror might escape.
But in his forest glen alone,
Apart from human trace,
A watercourse,
Of purest source,
While with unconscious gaze
He pierced its waveless face,
Reflected back his own.
Incensed with mingled rage and fright,
He seeks to shun the odious sight;
But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still,
He cannot leave, do what he will.
_Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see._
_From such mistake there is no mortal free._
_That obstinate self-lover_
_The human soul doth cover;_
_The mirrors' follies are of others,_
_In which, as all are genuine brothers,_
_Each soul may see to life depicted_
_Itself with just such faults afflicted;_
_And by that charming placid brook,_
_Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book._
[Illustration: THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE]
The Dragon with Many Heads.
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,
Rejoin'd, "I am aware
What power your emperor's servants share.
It brings to mind a tale both strange and true,
A thing which once, myself, I chanced to view.
I saw come darting through a hedge,
Which fortified a rocky ledge,
A hydra's hundred heads; and in a trice
My blood was turning into ice.
But less the harm than terror,--
The body came no nearer;
Nor could, unless it had been sunder'd,
To parts at least a hundred.
While musing deeply on this sight,
Another dragon came to light,
Whose single head avails
To lead a hundred tails:
And, seized with juster fright,
I saw him pass the hedge,--
Head, body, tails,--a wedge
Of living and resistless powers.--
The other was your emperor's force; this ours."
[Illustration: THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS.]
Death and the Woodman
A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load,
Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd,
Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest,
Trudged wearily along his homeward road.
At last his wood upon the ground he throws,
And sits him down to think o'er all his woes.
To joy a stranger, since his hapless birth,
What poorer wretch upon this rolling earth?
No bread sometimes, and ne'er a moment's rest;
Wife, children, soldiers, landlords, public tax,
All wait the swinging of his old, worn axe,
And paint the veriest picture of a man unblest.
On Death he calls. Forthwith that monarch grim
Appears, and asks what he should do for him.
"Not much, indeed; a little help I lack--
To put these fagots on my back."
_Death ready stands all ills to cure;_
_But let us not his cure invite._
_Than die, 'tis better to endure,--_
_Is both a manly maxim and a right._
[Illustration: DEATH AND THE WOODMAN.]
The Hornets and the Bees.
"The artist by his work is known."
A piece of honey-comb, one day,
Discover'd as a waif and stray,
The hornets treated as their own.
Their title did the bees dispute,
And brought before a wasp the suit.
The judge was puzzled to decide,
For nothing could be testified
Save that around this honey-comb
There had been seen, as if at home,
Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures,
Much like the bees in wings and features.
But what of that? for marks the same,
The hornets, too, could truly claim.
Between assertion, and denial,
The wasp, in doubt, proclaim'd new trial;
And, hearing what an ant-hill swore,
Could see no clearer than before.
"What use, I pray, of this expense?"
At last exclaim'd a bee of sense.
"We've labour'd months in this affair,
And now are only where we were.
Meanwhile the honey runs to waste:
'Tis time the judge should show some haste.
The parties, sure, have had sufficient bleeding,
Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading.
Let's set ourselves at work, these drones and we
And then all eyes the truth may plainly see,
Whose art it is that can produce
The magic cells, the nectar juice."
The hornets, flinching on their part,
Show that the work transcends their art.
The wasp at length their title sees,
And gives the honey to the bees.
_Would God that suits at law with us_
_Might all be managed thus!_
[Illustration: THE HORNETS AND THE BEES.]
The Oak and the Reed.
The oak one day address'd the reed:--
"To you ungenerous indeed
Has nature been, my humble friend,
With weakness aye obliged to bend.
The smallest bird that flits in air
Is quite too much for you to bear;
The slightest wind that wreathes the lake
Your ever-trembling head doth shake.
The while, my towering form
Dares with the mountain top
The solar blaze to stop,
And wrestle with the storm.
What seems to you the blast of death,
To me is but a zephyr's breath.
Beneath my branches had you grown,
Less suffering would your life have known,
Unhappily you oftenest show
In open air your slender form,
Along the marshes wet and low,
That fringe the kingdom of the storm.
To you, declare I must,
Dame Nature seems unjust."
Then modestly replied the reed:
"Your pity, sir, is kind indeed,
But wholly needless for my sake.
The wildest wind that ever blew
Is safe to me compared with you.
I bend, indeed, but never break.
Thus far, I own, the hurricane
Has beat your sturdy back in vain;
But wait the end." Just at the word,
The tempest's hollow voice was heard.
The North sent forth her fiercest child,
Dark, jagged, pitiless, and wild.
The oak, erect, endured the blow;
The reed bow'd gracefully and low.
But, gathering up its strength once more,
In greater fury than before,
The savage blast
O'erthrew, at last,
That proud, old, sky-encircled head,
Whose feet entwined the empire of the dead!
[Illustration: THE OAK AND THE REED.]
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 of rats his revel,
With rats pass'd not for cat, but devil.
Now, on a day, this dread rat-eater,
Who had a wife, went out to meet her;
And while he held his caterwauling,
The unkill'd rats, their chapter calling,
Discuss'd the point, in grave debate,
How they might shun impending fate.
Their dean, a prudent rat,
Thought best, and better soon than late,
To bell the fatal cat;
That, when he took his hunting round,
The rats, well caution'd by the sound,
Might hide in safety under ground;
Indeed he knew no other means.
And all the rest
At once confess'd
Their minds were with the dean's.
No better plan, they all believed,
Could possibly have been conceived.
No doubt the thing would work right well,
If any one would hang the bell.
But, one by one, said every rat,
"I'm not so big a fool as that."
The plan knock'd up in this respect,
The council closed without effect.
And many a council I have seen,
Or reverend chapter with its dean,
That, thus resolving wisely,
Fell through like this precisely.
_To argue or refute_
_Wise counsellors abound;_
_The man to execute_
_Is harder to be found._
[Illustration: THE COUNCIL HELD BY THE RATS.]
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._
[Illustration: THE TWO BULLS AND THE FROG.]
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 I 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!"
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 opened 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!"_
[Illustration: THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.]
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."
_The work of half the human brothers_
_Is making arms against the others._
[Illustration: THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.]
The Lion and the Gnat.
"Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!"
Thus said the royal lion to the gnat.
The gnat declared immediate war.
"Think you," said he, "your royal name
To me worth caring for?
Think you I tremble at your power or fame?
The ox is bigger far than you;
Yet him I drive, and all his crew."
This said, as one that did no fear owe,
Himself he blew the battle charge,
Himself both trumpeter and hero.
At first he play'd about at large,
Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled,
And there the royal beast full sorely nettled.
With foaming mouth, and flashing eye,
He roars. All creatures hide or fly,--
Such mortal terror at
The work of one poor gnat!
With constant change of his attack,
The snout now stinging, now the back,
And now the chambers of the nose;
The pigmy fly no mercy shows.
The lion's rage was at its height;
His viewless foe now laugh'd outright,
When on his battle-ground he saw,
That every savage tooth and claw
Had got its proper beauty
By doing bloody duty;
Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide,
And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side.
Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse!
He beat the harmless air, and worse;
For, though so fierce and stout,
By effort wearied out,
He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel;
The gnat retires with verdant laurel.
_We often have the most to fear_
_From those we most despise;_
_Again, great risks a man may clear,_
_Who by the smallest dies._
[Illustration: THE LION AND THE GNAT.]
The Ass Loaded with Sponges.
A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer,
His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing,
Drove on two coursers of protracted ear,
The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring;
The other lifting legs
As if he trod on eggs,
With constant need of goading,
And bags of salt for loading.
O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pass'd,
Till, coming to a river's ford at last,
They stopp'd quite puzzled on the shore.
Our asseteer had cross'd the stream before;
So, on the lighter beast astride,
He drives the other, spite of dread,
Which, loath indeed to go ahead,
Into a deep hole turns aside,
And, facing right about,
Where he went in, comes out;
For duckings, two or three
Had power the salt to melt,
So that the creature felt
His burden'd shoulders free.
The sponger, like a sequent sheep,
Pursuing through the water deep,
Into the same hole plunges
Himself, his rider, and the sponges.
All three drank deeply: asseteer and ass
For boon companions of their load might pass;
Which last became so sore a weight,
The ass fell down,
Belike to drown
His rider risking equal fate.
A helper came, no matter who.
_The moral needs no more ado--_
_That all can't act alike,--_
_The point I wish'd to strike._
[Illustration: THE ASS LOADED WITH SPONGES.]
The Dove and the Ant.
A dove came to a brook to drink,
When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink,
An ant fell in, and vainly tried,
In this, to her, an ocean tide,
To reach the land; whereat the dove,
With every living thing in love,
Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her,
By which the ant regain'd the shore.
A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly,
Soon after chanced this dove to spy;
And, being arm'd with bow and arrow,
The hungry codger doubted not
The bird of Venus, in his pot,
Would make a soup before the morrow.
Just as his deadly bow he drew,
Our ant just bit his heel.
Roused by the villain's squeal,
The dove took timely hint, and flew
Far from the rascal's coop;--
And with her flew his soup.
[Illustration: THE DOVE AND THE ANT.]
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."
"Good friend," the cock replied, "upon my word,
A better thing I never heard;
And doubly I rejoice
To hear it from your voice;
And, really there must be something in it,
For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter
Myself are couriers on this very matter.
They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute.
I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing
With general kissing and caressing."
"Adieu," said fox; "my errand's pressing;
I'll hurry on my way,
And we'll rejoice some other day."
So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light,
To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height,
Less happy in his stratagem than flight.
The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;--
'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive.
[Illustration: THE COCK AND THE FOX.]
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 beat yours!"
[Illustration: THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.]
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 conceal'd from human view;
I'm sure I have not seen your face
Once since the times of Thrace.
Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?"
"Where could I find," said Philomel, "so sweet?"
"What! sweet?" cried Progne--"sweet to waste
Such tones on beasts devoid of taste
Or on some rustic, at the most!
Should you by deserts be engross'd?
Come, be the city's pride and boast.
Besides, the woods remind of harms
That Tereus in them did your charms."
"Alas!" replied the bird of song,
"The thought of that so cruel wrong
Makes me, from age to age,
Prefer this hermitage;
For nothing like the sight of men
Can call up what I suffer'd then."
[Illustration: PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.]
The Camel and the Floating Sticks.
The first who saw the humpback'd camel
Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care;
The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare
The desert wanderer to trammel.
Such is the power of use to change
The face of objects new and strange;
Which grow, by looking at, so tame,
They do not even seem the same.
And since this theme is up for our attention,
A certain watchman I will mention,
Who, seeing something far
Away upon the ocean,
Could not but speak his notion
That 'twas a ship of war.
Some minutes more had past,--
A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail,
And then a boat, and then a bale,
And floating sticks of wood at last!
_Full many things on earth, I wot,_
_Will claim this tale,--and well they may;_
_They're something dreadful far away,_
_But near at hand--they're not._
[Illustration: THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.]
The Wolf, the Goat, and the Kid.
As went a goat of grass to take her fill,
And browse the herbage of a distant hill,
She latch'd her door, and bid,
With matron care, her kid;
"My daughter, as you live,
This portal don't undo
To any creature who
This watchword does not give:
'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!'"
The wolf was passing near the place
By chance, and heard the words with pleasure,
And laid them up as useful treasure;
And hardly need we mention,
Escaped the goat's attention.
No sooner did he see
The matron off, than he,
With hypocritic tone and face,
Cried out before the place,
"Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"
Not doubting thus to gain admission.
The kid, not void of all suspicion,
Peer'd through a crack, and cried,
"Show me white paw before
You ask me to undo the door."
The wolf could not, if he had died,
For wolves have no connection
With pains of that complexion.
So, much surprised, our gourmandiser
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._
[Illustration: THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.]
The Rat Retired from the World.