Held in his beak a savoury piece of cheese;
Its pleasant odour, borne upon the breeze,
Allured Sir Reynard, with his flattery.
"Ha! Master Raven, 'morrow to you, sir;
How black and glossy! now, upon my word,
I never--beautiful! I do aver.
If but your voice becomes your coat, no bird
More fit to be the Phœnix of our wood--
I hope, sir, I am understood?"
The Raven, flattered by the praise,
Opened his spacious beak, to show his ways
Of singing: down the good cheese fell.
Quick the Fox snapped it. "My dear sir, 'tis well,"
He said. "Know that a flatterer lives
On him to whom his praise he gives;
And, my dear neighbour, an' you please,
This lesson's worth a slice of cheese."--
The Raven, vexed at his consenting,
Flew off, too late in his repenting.
FABLE III.
THE FROG THAT WISHED TO MAKE HERSELF AS BIG AS THE OX.
A Frog, no bigger than a pullet's egg,
A fat Ox feeding in a meadow spied.
The envious little creature blew and swelled;
In vain to reach the big bull's bulk she tried.
"Sister, now look! observe me close!" she cried.
"Is this enough?"--"No!" "Tell me! now then see!"
"No, no!" "Well, now I'm quite as big as he?"
"You're scarcely bigger than you were at first!"
One more tremendous puff--she grew so large--she burst.
The whole world swarms with people not more wise:
The tradesman's villa with the palace vies.
Ambassadors your poorest Princelings send,
And every Count has pages without end.
[Illustration: THE TWO MULES.]
FABLE IV.
THE TWO MULES.
Two Mules were journeying--one charged with oats,
The other with a tax's golden fruit.
This last betrayed that manner which denotes
Excessive vanity in man or brute.
Proudly self-conscious of his precious load,
He paced, and loud his harness-bells resounded;
When suddenly upon their lonely road,
Both Mules and masters were by thieves surrounded.
The money-bearer soon was put to death:
"Is this the end that crowns my high career?
Yon drudge," he murmured with his latest breath,
"Escapes unhurt, while I must perish here!"
"My friend," his fellow-traveller made reply,
"Wealth cannot always at the poor man scoff.
If you had been content to do as I,
You'd not at present be so badly off."
FABLE V.
THE WOLF AND THE DOG.
A Wolf, who was but skin and bone,
So watchful had the sheep-dogs grown,
Once met a Mastiff fat and sleek,
Stern only to the poor and weak.
Sir Wolf would fain, no doubt, have munched
This pampered cur, and on him lunched;
But then the meal involved a fight,
And he was craven, save at night;
For such a dog could guard his throat
As well as any dog of note.
So the Wolf, humbly flattering him,
Praised the soft plumpness of each limb.
"You're wrong, you're wrong, my noble sir,
To roam in woods indeed you err,"
The dog replies, "you do indeed;
If you but wish, with me you'll feed.
Your comrades are a shabby pack,
Gaunt, bony, lean in side and back,
Pining for hunger, scurvy, hollow,
Fighting for every scrap they swallow.
Come, share my lot, and take your ease."
"What must I do to earn it, please?"
"Do?--why, do nothing! Beggar-men
Bark at and chase; fawn now and then
At friends; your master always flatter.
Do this, and by this little matter
Earn every sort of dainty dish--
Fowl-bones or pigeons'--what you wish--
Aye, better things; and with these messes,
Fondlings, and ceaseless kind caresses."
The Wolf, delighted, as he hears
Is deeply moved--almost to tears;
When all at once he sees a speck,
A gall upon the Mastiff's neck.
"What's that?"--"Oh, nothing!" "Nothing?"--"No!"
"A slight rub from the chain, you know."
"The chain!" replies the Wolf, aghast;
"You are not free?--they tie you fast?"
"Sometimes. But, law! what matters it?"--
"Matters so much, the rarest bit
Seems worthless, bought at such a price."
The Wolf, so saying, in a trice,
Ran off, and with the best goodwill,
And very likely's running still.
FABLE VI.
THE HEIFER, THE SHE-GOAT, AND THE LAMB, IN
PARTNERSHIP WITH THE LION.
The Heifer, Lamb, and Nanny-goat were neighbours,
With a huge Lion living close at hand,
They shared the gains and losses of their labours
(All this was long ago, you understand).
One day a stag was taken as their sport;
The Goat, who snared him, was of course enraptured,
And sent for all the partners of her toil,
In order to divide the treasure captured.
They came. The Lion, counting on his claws,
Quartered the prey, and thus addressed the trio--
"The parts are four. I take the first, because
I am your monarch, and my name is Leo:
Being the strongest, I annex the second;
As bravest, I can claim another share,
Should any touch the fourth, or say I reckoned
Unjustly, I shall kill him. So beware."
FABLE VII.
THE WALLET.
Said Jupiter one day, "Let all that breathe
Come and obeisance make before my throne.
If at his shape or being any grieve,
Let them cast fears aside. I'll hear their groan.
Come, Monkey, you be first to speak. You see
Of animals this goodly company;
Compare their beauties with your own.
Are you content?" "Why not? Good gracious me!"
The monkey said,
No whit afraid--
"Why not content? I have four feet like others,
My portrait no one sneers at--do they, brothers?
But cousin Bruins hurriedly sketched in,
And no one holds his likeness worth a pin."
Then came the Bear. One thought he would have found
Something to grumble at. Grumble! no, not he.
He praised his form and shape, but, looking round,
Turned critic on the want of symmetry
Of the huge shapeless Elephant, whose ears
Were much too long; his tail too short, he fears.
The Elephant was next.
Though wise, yet sadly vexed
To see good Madam Whale, to his surprise,
A cumbrous mountain of such hideous size.
Quick Mrs. Ant thinks the Gnat far too small,
Herself colossal.--Jove dismisses all,
Severe on others, with themselves content.
'Mong all the fools who that day homeward went,
Our race was far the worst: our wisest souls
Lynxes to others', to their own faults moles.
Pardon at home they give, to others grace deny,
And keep on neighbours' sins a sleepless eye.
Jove made us so,
As we all know,
We wear our Wallets in the self-same way--
This current year, as in the bye-gone day:
In pouch behind our own defects we store,
The faults of others in the one before.
FABLE VIII.
THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.
A Swallow, in his travels o'er the earth,
Into the law of storms had gained a peep;
Could prophesy them long before their birth,
And warn in time the ploughmen of the deep.
Just as the month for sowing hemp came round,
The Swallow called the smaller birds together.
"Yon' hand," said he, "which strews along the ground
That fatal grain, forbodes no friendly weather.
The day will come, and very soon, perhaps,
When yonder crop will help in your undoing--
[Illustration: THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.]
When, in the shape of snares and cruel traps,
Will burst the tempest which to-day is brewing.
Be wise, and eat the hemp up now or never;
Take my advice." But no, the little birds,
Who thought themselves, no doubt, immensely clever,
Laughed loudly at the Swallow's warning words.
Soon after, when the hemp grew green and tall,
He begged the Birds to tear it into tatters.
"Prophet of ill," they answered one and all,
"Cease chattering about such paltry matters."
The hemp at length was ripe, and then the Swallow,
Remarking that "ill weeds were never slow,"
Continued--"Though it's now too late to follow
The good advice I gave you long ago,
You still may manage to preserve your lives
By giving credit to the voice of reason.
Remain at home, I beg you, with your wives,
And shun the perils of the coming season.
You cannot cross the desert or the seas,
To settle down in distant habitations;
Make nests, then, in the walls, and there, at ease,
Defy mankind and all its machinations."
They scorned his warnings, as in Troy of old
Men scorned the lessons that Cassandra taught.
And shortly, as the Swallow had foretold,
Great numbers of them in the traps were caught.
To instincts not our own we give no credit,
And till misfortune comes, we never dread it.
[Illustration: THE TOWN RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.]
FABLE IX.
THE TOWN RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.
A Rat from town, a country Rat
Invited in the civilest way;
For dinner there was just to be
Ortolans and an entremet.
Upon a Turkey carpet soft
The noble feast at last was spread;
I leave you pretty well to guess
The merry, pleasant life they led.
Gay the repast, for plenty reigned,
Nothing was wanting to the fare;
But hardly had it well begun
Ere chance disturbed the friendly pair.
A sudden racket at the door
Alarmed them, and they made retreat;
The City Rat was not the last,
His comrade followed fast and fleet.
The noise soon over, they returned,
As rats on such occasions do;
"Come," said the liberal citizen,
"And let us finish our ragout."
"Not a crumb more," the rustic said;
"To-morrow you shall dine with me;
Don't think me jealous of your state,
Or all your royal luxury;
"But then I eat so quiet at home,
And nothing dangerous is near;
Good-bye, my friend, I have no love
For pleasure when it's mixed with fear."
FABLE X.
THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.
FOR M. THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.
A man who had no rivals in the love
He bore himself, thought that he won the bell
From all the world, and hated every glass
That truths less palatable tried to tell.
Living contented in the error,
Of lying mirrors he'd a terror.
Officious Fate, determined on a cure,
Raised up, where'er he turned his eyes,
Those silent counsellors that ladies prize.
Mirrors old and mirrors newer;
Mirrors in inns and mirrors in shops;
Mirrors in pockets of all the fops;
Mirrors in every lady's zone.
What could our poor Narcissus do?
He goes and hides him all alone
In woods that one can scarce get through.
No more the lying mirrors come,
But past his new-found savage home
A pure and limpid brook runs fair.--
He looks. His ancient foe is there!
His angry eyes stare at the stream,
He tries to fancy it a dream.
Resolves to fly the odious place, and shun
The image; yet, so fair the brook, he cannot run.
My meaning is not hard to see;
No one is from this failing free.
The man who loved himself is just the Soul,
The mirrors are the follies of all others.
(Mirrors are faithful painters on the whole;)
And you know well as I do, brothers, that the brook
Is the wise "Maxim-book."[1]
[1] Rochefoucauld's Maxims are the most extraordinary
dissections of human selfishness ever made.
FABLE XI.
THE DRAGON WITH MANY HEADS, AND THE DRAGON
WITH MANY TAILS.
An Envoy of the Grand Signor
(I can't say more)
One day, before the Emperor's court,
Vaunted, as some historians report,
That his royal master had a force
Outnumbering all the foot and horse
The Kaiser could bring to the war.
Then spoke a choleric attendant:
"<i>Our</i> Prince has more than <i>one</i> dependant
That keeps an army at his own expense."
The Pasha (man of sense),
Replied: "By rumour I'm aware
What troops the great electors spare,
And that reminds me, I am glad,
Of an adventure I once had,
Strange, and yet true.
I'll tell it you.
Once through a hedge the hundred heads I saw
Of a huge Hydra show.
My blood, turned ice, refused to flow:
And yet I felt that neither fang nor claw
Could more than scare me--for no head came near.
There was no room. I cast off fear.
While musing on this sight,
Another Dragon came to light.
Only one head this time;
But tails too many to count up in rhyme.
The fit again came on,
Worse than the one just gone.
The head creeps first, then follows tail by tail;
Nothing can stop their road, nor yet assail;
One clears the way for all the minor powers:
The first's <i>your</i> Emperor's host, the second <i>ours</i>."
[Illustration: THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.]
FABLE XII.
THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.
The reasoning of the strongest has such weight,
None can gainsay it, or dare prate,
No more than one would question Fate.
A Lamb her thirst was very calmly slaking,
At the pure current of a woodland rill;
A grisly Wolf, by hunger urged, came making
A tour in search of living things to kill.
"How dare you spoil my drink?" he fiercely cried;
There was grim fury in his very tone;
"I'll teach you to let beasts like me alone.
"Let not your Majesty feel wrath," replied
The Lamb, "nor be unjust to me, from passion;
I cannot, Sire, disturb in any fashion
The stream which now your Royal Highness faces,
I'm lower down by at least twenty paces."
"You spoil it!" roared the Wolf; "and more, I know,
You slandered me but half a year ago."
"How could I do so, when I scarce was born?"
The Lamb replied; "I was a suckling then."
"Then 'twas your brother held me up to scorn."
"I have no brother." "Well, 'tis all the same;
At least 'twas some poor fool that bears your name.
You and your dogs, both great and small,
Your sheep and shepherds, one and all,
Slander me, if men say but true,
And I'll revenge myself on you."
Thus saying, he bore off the Lamb
Deep in the wood, far from its dam.
And there, not waiting judge nor jury,
Fell to, and ate him in his fury.
FABLE XIII.
THE ROBBERS AND THE ASS.
Two Thieves were fighting for a prize,
A Donkey newly stolen; sell or not to sell--
That was the question--bloody fists, black eyes:
While they fought gallantly and well,
A third thief happening to pass,
Rode gaily off upon the ass.
The ass is some poor province it may be;
The thieves, that gracious potentate, or this,
Austria, Turkey, or say Hungary;
Instead of two, I vow I've set down three
(The world has almost had enough of this),
And often neither will the province win:
For third thief stepping in,
'Mid their debate and noisy fray,
With the disputed donkey rides away.
[Illustration: THE ROBBERS AND THE ASS.]
FABLE XIV.
DEATH AND THE WOODCUTTER.
A poor Woodcutter, covered with his load,
Bent down with boughs and with a weary age,
Groaning and stooping, made his sorrowing stage
To reach his smoky cabin; on the road,
Worn out with toil and pain, he seeks relief
By resting for a while, to brood on grief.--
What pleasure has he had since he was born?
In this round world is there one more forlorn?
Sometimes no bread, and never, never rest.
Creditors, soldiers, taxes, children, wife,
The corvée. Such a life!
The picture of a miserable man--look east or west.
He calls on Death--for Death calls everywhere--
Well,--Death is there.
He comes without delay,
And asks the groaner if he needs his aid.
"Yes," said the Woodman, "help me in my trade.
Put up these faggots--then you need not stay."
Death is a cure for all, say I,
But do not budge from where you are;
Better to suffer than to die,
Is man's old motto, near and far.
[Illustration: DEATH AND THE WOODCUTTER.]
FABLE XV.
SIMONIDES RESCUED BY THE GODS.
Three sorts of persons can't he praised too much:
The Gods, the King, and her on whom we doat.
So said Malherbe, and well he said, for such
Are maxims wise, and worthy of all note.
Praise is beguiling, and disliked by none:
A lady's favour it has often won.
Let's see whate'en the gods have ere this done
To those who praised them. Once, the eulogy
Of a rough athlete was in verse essayed.
Simonides, the ice well broken, made
A plunge into a swamp of flattery.
The athlete's parents were poor folk unknown;
The man mere lump of muscle and of bone--
No merit but his thews,
A barren subject for the muse.
The poet praised his hero all he could,
Then threw him by, as others would.
Castor and Pollux bringing on the stage,
He points out their example to such men,
And to all strugglers in whatever age;
Enumerates the places where they fought,
And why they vanished from our mortal ken.
In fact, two-thirds of all his song was fraught
With praise of them, page after page.
A Talent had the athlete guaranteed,
But when he read he grudged the meed,
And gave a third: frank was his jest,--
"Castor and Pollux pay the rest;
Celestial pair! they'll see you righted,--
Still I will feast you with the best;
Sup with me, you will be delighted;
The guests are all select, you'll see,
My parents, and friends loved by me;
Be thou, too, of the company."
Simonides consents, partly, perhaps, in fear
To lose, besides his due, the paltry praise.
He goes--they revel and discuss the cheer;
A merry night prepares for jovial days.
A servant enters, tells him at the door
Two men would see him, and without delay.
He leaves the table, not a bit the more
Do jaws and fingers cease their greedy play.
These two men were the Gemini he'd praised.
They thanked him for the homage he had paid;
Then, for reward, told him the while he stayed
The doom'd house would be rased,
And fall about the ears
Of the big boxer and his peers.
The prophecy came true--yes, every tittle;
Snap goes a pillar, thin and brittle.
The roof comes toppling down, and crashes
The feast--the cups, the flagons smashes.
Cupbearers are included in the fall;
Nor is that all:
To make the vengeance for the bard complete,
The athlete's legs are broken too.
A beam snapped underneath his feet,
While half the guests exclaim,
"Lord help us! we are lame."
Fame, with her trumpet, heralds the affair;
Men cry, "A miracle!" and everywhere
They give twice over, without scoff or sneer,
To poet by the gods held dear.
No one of gentle birth but paid him well,
Of their ancestors' deeds to nobly tell.
Let me return unto my text: it pays
The gods and kings to freely praise;
Melpomene, moreover, sometimes traffic makes
Of the ingenious trouble that she takes.
Our art deserves respect, and thus
The great do honour to themselves who honour us.
Olympus and Parnassus once, you see,
Were friends, and liked each other's company.
FABLE XVI.
DEATH AND THE UNHAPPY MAN.
A Miserable Man incessant prayed
To Death for aid.
"Oh, Death!" he cried. "I love thee as a friend!
Come quickly, and my life's long sorrows end!"
Death, wishing to oblige him, ran,
Knocked at the door, entered, and eyed the man.
"What do I see? begone, thou hideous thing!
The very sight
Strikes me with horror and affright!
Begone, old Death!--Away, thou grisly King!"
Mecænas (hearty fellow) somewhere said;
"Let me be gouty, crippled, impotent and lame,
'Tis all the same.
So I but keep on living. Death, thou slave!
Come not at all, and I shall be content."
And that was what the man I mention meant.
[Illustration: THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.]
FABLE XVII.
THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.
A Wolf who found in cautious flocks
His tithes beginning to be few,
Thought that he'd play the part of Fox,
A character at least quite new.
A Shepherd's hat and coat he took,
And from a branch he made a hook;
Nor did the pastoral pipe forget.
To carry out his schemes he set,
He would have liked to write upon his hat,
"I'm Guillot, Shepherd of these sheep!"
And thus disguised, he came, pit-pat,
And softly stole where fast asleep
Guillot himself lay by a stack,
His dog close cuddling at his back;
His pipe too slept; and half the number
Of the plump sheep was wrapped in slumber.
He's got the dress--could he but mock
The Shepherd's voice, he'd lure the flock:
He thought he could.
That spoiled the whole affair--he'd spoken;
His howl re-echoed through the wood.
The game was up--the spell was broken!
They all awake, dog, Shepherd, sheep.
Poor Wolf, in this distress
And pretty mess,
In clumsy coat bedight,
Could neither run away nor fight.
At last the bubble breaks;
There's always some mistake a rascal makes.
The Wolf like Wolf must always act;
That is a very certain fact.
FABLE XVIII.
THE CHILD AND THE SCHOOLMASTER.
This fable serves to tell, or tries to show
A fools remonstrance often is in vain.
A child fell headlong in the river's flow,
While playing on the green banks of the Seine:
A willow, by kind Providence, grew there,
The branches saved him (rather, God's good care);
Caught in the friendly boughs, he clutched and clung.
The master of the school just then came by.
"Help! help! I'm drowning!" as he gulping hung,
He shouts. The master, with a pompous eye,
Turns and reproves him with much gravity.
"You little ape," he said, "now only see
What comes of all your precious foolery;
A pretty job such little rogues to guard.
Unlucky parents who must watch and thrash.
Such helpless, hopeless, good-for-nothing trash.
I pity them; their woes I understand."
Having said this, he brought the child to land.
In this I blame more people than you guess--
Babblers and censors, pedants, all the three;
Such creatures grow in numbers to excess,
Some blessing seems to swell their progeny.
In every crisis theories they shape,
And exercise their tongues with perfect skill;
Ha! my good friends, first save me from the scrape,
Then make your long speech after, if you will.
FABLE XIX.
THE PULLET AND THE PEARL.
A Fowl, while scratching in the straw,
Finding a pearl without a flaw,
Gave it a lapidary of the day.
"It's very fine, I must repeat;
And yet a single grain of wheat
Is very much more in my way."
A poor uneducated lad
A manuscript as heirloom had.
He took it to a bookseller one day:
"I know," said he, "it's very rare;
But still, a guinea as my share
Is very much more in my way."
FABLE XX.
THE DRONES AND THE BEES.
A Workman by his work you always know.
Some cells of honey had been left unclaimed.
The Drones were first to go
The Bees, to try and show
That they to take the mastership were not ashamed.
Before a Wasp the cause at last they bring;
It is not easy to decide the thing.
The witnesses deposed that round the hive
They long had seen wing'd, buzzing creatures fly,
Brown, and like bees. "Yes, true; but, man alive,
The Drones are also brown; so do not try
To prove it so." The Wasp, on justice bent,
Made new investigations
(Laws of all nations).
To throw more light upon the case,
Searched every place,
Heard a whole ants' nest argue face to face,
Still it grew only darker; that's a fact
(Lease or contract?)
"Oh, goodness gracious! where's the use, my son?"
Cried a wise Bee;
"Why, only see,
For six months now the cause is dragging on,
And we're no further than we were at first;
But what is worst,
The honey's spoiling, and the hive is burst.
'Tis time the judge made haste,
The matter's simmered long enough to waste,
Without rebutters or <i>fi, fa</i>,
Without rejoinders or <i>ca, sa</i>,
John Doe,
Or Richard Roe.
Let's go to work, the wasps and us,
We'll see who best can build and store
The sweetest juice." It's settled thus.
The Drones do badly, as they've done of yore;
The art's beyond their knowledge, quite beyond.
The Wasp adjudges that the honey goes
Unto the Bees: would those of law so fond
Could thus decide the cases justice tries.
Good common sense, instead of Coke and code,
(The Turks in this are really very wise,)
Would save how many a debtor's heavy load.
Law grinds our lives away
With sorrow and delay.
In vain we groan, and grudge
The money given to our long-gowned tutors.
Always at last the oyster's for the judge,
The shells for the poor suitors.
[Illustration: THE OAK AND THE REED.]
FABLE XXI.
THE OAK AND THE REED.
The Oak said one day to a river Reed,
"You have a right with Nature to fall out.
Even a wren for you's a weight indeed;
The slightest breeze that wanders round about
Makes you first bow, then bend;
While my proud forehead, like an Alp, braves all,
Whether the sunshine or the tempest fall--
A gale to you to me a zephyr is.
Come near my shelter: you'll escape from this;
You'll suffer less, and everything will mend.
I'll keep you warm
From every storm;
And yet you foolish creatures needs must go,
And on the frontiers of old Boreas grow.
Nature to you has been, I think, unjust."
"Your sympathy," replied the Reed, "is kind,
And to my mind
Your heart is good; and yet dismiss your thought.
For us, no more than you, the winds are fraught
With danger, for I bend, but do not break.
As yet, a stout resistance you can make,
And never stoop your back, my friend;
But wait a bit, and let us see the end."
Black, furious, raging, swelling as he spoke,
The fiercest wind that ever yet had broke
From the North's caverns bellowed through the sky.
The Oak held firm, the Reed bent quietly down.
The wind blew faster, and more furiously,
Then rooted up the tree that with its head
Had touched the high clouds in its majesty,
And stretched far downwards to the realms of dead.
FABLE XXII.
AGAINST THOSE WHO ARE HARD TO PLEASE.