Chapter VI: Part 6

Upon the soup then breathed a bit
(The surest way of cooling it);
Meanwhile, his host in wonder sat,
And asked, "Pray, what's the good of that?"

"Breath cools my soup," his guest replied,
"And makes my fingers warm beside."
The Satyr answered, with a sneer,
"Then, we can do without you here.

"Beneath my roof you shall not sleep;
I scorn such company to keep.
All people in contempt I hold,
Who first blow hot, and then blow cold!"

FABLE XCIII.

THE DOCTORS.

One morning Doctor Much-the-Worse went out
To see a patient, who was also tended
By Doctor Much-the-Better. "Past a doubt,"
The former said, "this case is nearly ended.
There's not a chance."--The latter trusted still
In physic's aid: but while the twin concocters
Disputed hard on plaister, draught, and pill,
The patient died from this attack of doctors.
"Look there," said one, "I told you how 'twould be!"
The other said, "No doubt you're vastly clever;
But if our friend had only followed <i>me</i>,
I know he would have been as well as ever."

FABLE XCIV.

THE LABOURING MAN AND HIS CHILDREN.

Work, work, with all your might and main,
For labour brings the truest gain.

A wealthy Labourer lay near to death;
And, summoning his children round the bed,
He thus addressed them, with his latest breath:
"Part not with my estate when I am dead.
My parents left me what I leave to <i>you.</i>
About the place a treasure lies concealed,
No matter where,--search every corner through,
Nor leave a spot unturned in any field.
Go, seek it from the morning till the night."
Their father dead, the loving sons fulfilled
The dying wish, that made their labour light:
From end to end the fields were duly tilled.
The harvest was enormous, though they found
No golden treasures, howsoever small.
And yet the father's last advice was sound,
For Labour <i>is</i> a treasure, after all.

FABLE XCV.

THE HEN WITH THE GOLDEN EGGS.

My little story will explain
An olden maxim, which expresses
How Avarice, in search of gain,
May lose the hoard that it possesses.
The fable tells us that a Hen
Laid golden eggs, each egg a treasure;
Its owner--stupidest of men--
Was miserly beyond all measure.
He thought a mine of wealth to find
Within the Hen, and so he slew it:
He found a bird of common kind--
And lost a pretty fortune through it.

For money-worms, who now and then
Grow poor through trying to be wealthy,
I tell my fable of the Hen;
My tale is good, my moral healthy.

FABLE XCVI.

THE ASS THAT CARRIED THE RELICS.

An Ass, with relics loaded, thought the crowd
Knelt down to him, and straightway grew so proud;
He took to his own merit, without qualms,
Even the incense and loud chaunted psalms,
Some one, to undeceive him, wisely said--
"A foolish vanity has turned your head:
They not to you, but to the idol pray;
Where glory's due, there they the honour pay."

When foolish magistrates rule o'er a town,
It's not the man we bow to, but his gown.

FABLE XCVII.

THE SERPENT AND THE FILE.

A Serpent once and Watchmaker were neighbours
(Unpleasant neighbour for a working man);
The Snake came creeping in among his labours,
Seeking for food on the felonious plan;
But all the broth he found was but a File,
And that he gnawed in vain--the steel was tough.
The tool said, with a calm contemptuous smile,
"Poor and mistaken thing! that's <i>quantum suff.</i>
You lose your time, you shallow sneak, you do,
You'll never bite a farthing's worth off me,
Though you break all your teeth: I tell you true,
I fear alone Time's great voracity."

This is for critics--all the baser herd.
Who, restless, gnaw at everything they find.
Bah! you waste time, you do, upon my word;
Don't think your teeth can pierce the thinnest rind:
To injure noble works you try, and try, but can't,
To you they're diamond, steel, and adamant.

FABLE XCVIII.

THE HARE THE PARTRIDGE.

One should not mock the wretched. Who can tell
He will be always happy? Fortune changes,
Wise Æsop, in his fables, taught this well.
My story is like his--which very strange is,
The Hare and Partridge shared the selfsame clover,
And lived in peace and great tranquillity,
Till one day, racing all the meadows over,
The huntsmen came, and forced the Hare to flee,
And seek his hiding-place. The dogs, put out,
Were all astray: yes, even Brifaut erred,
Until the scent betrayed. A lusty shout
Arouses Miraut, who then loud averred,
From philosophic reasoning, 'twas the Hare,
And ardently pushed forward the pursuit.
Rustaut, who never lied, saw clearly where
Had homeward turned again the frightened brute.
Poor wretch! it came to its old form to die.
The cruel Partridge, bitter taunting, said,
"You boasted of your fleetness; now, then, try
Your nimble feet." Soon was that scorn repaid:
While she still laughed, the recompense was near.
She thought her wings would save her from man's jaws.
Poor creature! there was worse than that to fear:
The swooping Goshawk came with cruel claws.

FABLE XCIX

THE STAG AND THE VINE.

A Stag behind a lofty Vine took shelter
(Such vines are met with in a southern clime);
Hunters and hounds pursued him helter-skelter,
And searched and searched, but only lost their time.
The huntsmen laid, as might have been expected,
Upon the shoulders of their dogs the blame,
The Stag, forgetting he had been protected,
Vastly ungrateful all at once became;
Upon the friendly Vine he made a dinner;
But hounds and hunters soon came back again.

Discovered quickly--now the leaves were thinner--
The Stag, of course, got set upon and slain.
"I merit this!" exclaimed the dying glutton;
"Ingratitude, like pride, must have a fall:"
Another gasp, and he was dead as mutton;
And no one present pitied him at all.

How oft is hospitality rewarded
By deeds ungrateful as the one recorded!

FABLE C.

THE LION GOING TO WAR.

Lion planned a foray on a foe;
Held a war-council; sent his heralds out
To warn the Animals he'd strike a blow;
Soon all were ready to help slay and rout--
Each in his special way. The Elephant,
To bear upon his back the baggage and supplies,
And right, as usual. Then the Bear, to plant
The flag upon the breach. The Fox's eyes
Brighten at thought of diplomatic guile.
The Monkey hopes to dupe with endless tricks.
"But send away the Asses," says, meanwhile,
Some courtier, in whose mind the fancy sticks;
"They're only stupid. Pack off, too, the Hares."
"No, not so," said the King; "I'll use them all:
Our troop's imperfect, if they have no shares.
The Ass shall be our startling trumpet call;
The Hare is useful for our courier, mind."
Prudent and wise the King who knows the way
For every subject fitting task to find.
Nothing is useless to the wise, they say.

FABLE CI.

THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN.

A donkey donned a Lion's hide,
And spread a panic, far and wide
(Although the Donkey, as a rule,
Is not a fighter, but a fool).
By chance, a little bit of ear
Stuck forth, and made the matter clear.
Then Hodge, not relishing the trick,
Paid off its author with a stick.
While those who saw the Lion's skin,
But little dreamed who lurked within,
Stood open-mouthed, and all aghast,
To see a Lion run so fast.

This tale applies, unless I err,
To many folks who make a stir;
And owe three-fourths of their success
To servants, carriages, and dress.

FABLE CII.

THE EAGLE AND THE OWL.

The Eagle and the Owl had treaty made--
Ceased quarrelling, and even had embraced.
One took his royal oath; and, undismayed,
The other's claw upon his heart was placed:
Neither would gulp a fledgling of the other.
"Do you know mine?" Minerva's wise bird said.
The Eagle gravely shook her stately head,
"So much the worse," the Owl replied. "A mother
Trembles for her sweet chicks--she does, indeed.
It's ten to one if I can rear them then.

You are a king, and, therefore, take no heed
Of who or what. The gods and lords of men
Put all things on one level: let who will
Say what they like. Adieu, my children dear,
If you once meet them." "Nay, good ma'am, but still,
Describe them," said the Eagle; "have no fear:
Be sure I will not touch them, on my word."
The Owl replied, "My little ones are small,
Beautiful, shapely,--prettier, far, than all.
By my description you will know the dears;
Do not forget it: let no fate by you
Find way to us, and cause me ceaseless tears."
Well, one fine evening, the old Owl away,
The Eagle saw, upon a rocky shelf,
Or in a ruin, (who cares which I say?)
Some little ugly creatures. To himself
The Eagle reasoned, "These are not our friend's,
Moping and gruff, and such a screeching, too:
Let's eat 'em." Waste time never spends
The royal bird, to give the brute his due;
And when he eats, he eats, to tell the truth.
The Owl, returning, only found the feet
Of her dear offspring:--sad, but yet it's sooth.
She mourns the children, young, and dear, and sweet,
And prays the gods to smite the wicked thief,
That brought her all the woe and misery.
Then some one said, "Restrain thy unjust grief;
Reflect one moment on the casualty.
Thou art to blame, and also Nature's law,
Which makes us always think our own the best.
You sketched them to the Eagle as you saw:
They were not like your portrait;--am I just?"

FABLE CIII.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION.

Fables are sometimes more than they appear:
A crude, bare moral wearies some, I fear.
The simplest animal to truth may lead;
The story and the precept make one heed:
They pass together better than apart:
To please, and yet instruct, that is the art.
To write for writing's sake seems poor to me;
And for this reason, more especially--
Numbers of famous men, from time to time,
Have written fables in laconic rhyme,
Shunning all ornament and verbose length,
Wasting no word, unless to gain in strength.
Phædrus was so succinct, some men found fault;
Curt Æsop was far readier still to halt.
But, above all, a Greek[1] did most excel,
Who in four verses told what he would tell.
If he succeeded, let the experts say;
Let's match him now with Æsop, by the way.
A Shepherd and a Hunter they will bring:
I give the point and ending as they sing,
Embroidering here and there, as on I go;--
Thus Æsop told the story, you must know.

A Shepherd, finding in his flocks some gaps,
Thought he might catch the robber in his traps,
And round a cave drew close his netted toils,
Fearing the Wolves, and their unceasing spoils.
"Grant, king of gods, before I leave the place,"
He cried, "grant me to see the brigand's face.
Let me but watch him rolling in the net.
That is the dearest pleasure I could get!"
Then from a score of calves he chose the beast,
The fattest, for the sacrificial feast.
That moment stepped a Lion from the cave;
The Shepherd, prostrate, all intent to save
His petty life, exclaimed, "How little we
Know what we ask! If I could only see
Safe in my snares, that caused me so much grief,
The helpless, panting, miserable thief,
Great Jove! a Calf I promised to thy fane:
An Ox I'd make it, were I free again."

Thus wrote our leading author of his race;
Now for the imitator, in his place.

[1] Gabrias.

FABLE CIV.

THE LION AND THE HUNTER.

A Braggart, lover of the chase,
Losing a dog, of noble race,
Fearing 'twas in a Lion's maw,
Asked the first shepherd that he saw
If he would kindly show him where
The robber had his favourite lair;
That he might teach him, at first sight,
The difference between wrong and right.
The shepherd said, "Near yonder peak
You'll find the gentleman you seek.
A sheep a month, that is the fee
I pay for ease and liberty.
I wander where I like, you see."
And, while he spoke, the Lion ran
And put to flight the bragging man.
"O Jupiter!" he cried, "befriend,
And some safe refuge quickly send!"

The proof of courage, understand,
Is shown when danger is at hand.
Some, when the danger comes, 'tis known,
Will very quickly change their tone.

FABLE CV.

PHŒBUS AND BOREAS.

Phœbus and Boreas saw a traveller,
'Fended against bad weather prudently.
Autumn had just begun, and then, you see,
Caution is useful to the wayfarer.
It rains and shines, and rainbows bright displayed
Warned those who ventured out to take a cloak:
The Romans called these months, as if in joke,
The doubtful. For this season well arrayed,
Our fellow, ready for the pelting rain,
Wore a cloak doubled, and of sturdy stuff.
"He thinks," the Wind said, "he is armed enough
To 'scape all hazards; but it's quite in vain,
For he has not foreseen that I can blow,
So that no button in the world avails:
I send cloaks flying as I do ships' sails.
It will amuse us just to let him know;
Now, you shall see." "Agreed," then Phœbus said;
"Then let us bet, without more talking, come,
Which of us first shall send him cloakless home:
You can begin, and I will hide my head."
'Twas soon arranged, and Boreas filled his throat
With vapour, till his cheeks balloons became.
A demon's holiday of lightning-flame
And storm came whistling, wrecking many a boat,
Shattering many a roof--and all for what?
About a paltry cloak. He's much ado
To save him from a precipice or two.
The Wind but wasted time--one's pleased at that--
The more it raged, but firmer still he drew
Around his breast the cloak: the cape just shook,
And here and there a shred the tempest took.
At last, the time was up, no more it blew,
Then the hot Sun dispersed the cloudy haze,
And pierced the weary horseman through and through.
Beneath his heavy mantle sprung hot dew--
No longer could he bear those fervent rays--
He threw his cloak aside (a man of sense);
Not half his power had Phœbus yet employed.
Mildness had won--the Sun was overjoyed:
Softness gains more than any violence.

FABLE CVI.

THE BEAR AND THE TWO FRIENDS.

Two Friends, in want, resolved to sell
A Bear-skin, though the Bear was well,
And still alive. The Furrier paid
Them willingly; the bargain's made.
It was the King of Bears, they said:
They'd kill him in an hour or two,
And what more could they hope to do?
"The merchant has not such a skin,
A guarantee through thick and thin,
To fence from e'en the keenest cold
With warm, soft, pliant fold on fold:
Better to make two cloaks than one."
The bargain's made, the business done,
The Bear, in two days, was to die
That they agreed on, presently.
They found the Bear, who, at full trot,
Came down upon them, raging hot.
The men were thunder-struck; soon done
With bargain-making, how they run!
Life against money: they are mute.
One climbs a tree, to shun the brute;
The other, cold as marble, lies
Upon his stomach--shuts his eyes;
For he has heard that Bears, instead
Of eating fear to touch the dead.
The trap deceives the foolish Bear:
He sees the body lying there,
Suspects a trick, turns, smells, and sniffs,
With many nuzzling cautious whiffs.
"He's dead," said he, "and rather high;"
Then seeks the forest that's hard by.
The merchant, from the tree descending
Quickly, to his companion's lending
The aid he needs. "A wondrous sight,
To think you've only had a fright.
But where's his skin?--and did he say
Aught in your ear, as there you lay?
For he came, as I plainly saw,
And turned you over with his paw."
"He said, 'Another time, at least,
Before you sell, first kill the beast."

FABLE CVII.

JUPITER AND THE FARMER.

Jupiter had a farm to give away;
Mercury told the world the chosen day.
The people came to offer, rough they were,
And listened grimly. One said it was bare
And stubborn land; another half agreed.
While they thus haggled, churlishly indeed,
One bolder than the rest--but wiser?--no--
Consents to take it, if Jove only grant
The climate that he wishes; he will plant,
And sow, and reap, if but the heat and cold
May come and go, like slaves, as they are told.
The seasons wait his nod: the wet and dry
Obey his bidding from a servile sky.
Jove grants his wish--our foolish fellow sways
His sceptre bravely--rains and blows for days;
Makes his own climate just as he may please:
His neighbours, no more than Antipodes,
Share his good weather. Still as well they fare;
Their barns are teeming full; but his art bare.
The next year quite a change; another way
He sets the seasons, watching day by day:
Still, there's some flaw--his crops are thin and poor,
While loaded waggons crowd his neighbour's door.
What can he do?--he falls before Jove's throne,
Confesses all his folly: he alone
Has been to blame. Jove, with much gentleness,
Like a mild master, pities his distress.
It is agreed that Providence is kind,
And knows far better than a human mind
What's good for us, and calmly bids us do it:
We seldom see our way till we are through it.

FABLE CVIII.

THE STAG VIEWING HIMSELF IN THE STREAM.

Beside a fountain in the wood
A royal Stag admiring stood:
His antlers pleased him well.
But one thing vexed him to the heart:
His slender legs ill matched the part
On which he loved to dwell.

"Nature has shaped them ill," said he,
Watching their shadows peevishly:
"Here is a disproportion!
My horns rise branching, tall, and proud;
My legs disgrace them, 'tis allowed,
And are but an abortion."

Just then a deer-hound frightened him,
And lent a wing to every limb.
O'er bush and brake--he's off!
At those adornments on his brow
The foolish creature praised just now
He soon begins to scoff.

Upon his legs his life depends:
They are his best and only friends.
He unsays every word,
And curses Heaven, that has sent
A dangerous gift. We all repent
Speeches that are absurd.

We prize too much the beautiful,
And useful things spurn (as a rule);
Yet fast will beauty fleet.
The Stag admired the antlers high,
That brought him into jeopardy,
And blamed his kindly feet.

FABLE CIX.

THE COCKEREL, THE CAT, AND THE LITTLE RAT.

A Rat, so very young that it had seen
Nothing at all, was at his setting out
Almost snapped up; and what his fears had been
He told his mother. Thus it came about--
"I crossed the mountains bordering our land,
Bold as a Rat that has his way to make;
When two great animals, you understand,
Before my eyes, their way towards me take.
The one was gentle, tender, and so mild;
The other restless, wild, and turbulent;
A screeching voice, some flesh upon its head,
A sort of arm, raised as for punishment.
His tail a plume, a fiery plume displayed
(It was a capon that the creature drew
Like a wild beast new come from Africa);
And with his arms he beat his sides, it's true,
With such a frightful noise, that in dismay,
E'en I, who pride myself on courage, ran
And fled for fear, cursing the evil creature;
As, but for him, I should have found a plan
To make acquaintance with that gentle nature--
So soft and sweet, and with a skin like ours;
Long tail, and spotted, with a face so meek;
And yet a glittering eye, of such strange powers:
A sympathiser, sure as I can speak,
With us the Rats, for he has just such ears.
I was about to make a little speech,
When, all at once, as if to rouse my fears,
The other creature gave a dreadful screech,
And I took flight." "My child," exclaimed the Rat,
"That gentle hypocrite you liked so well,
Was our malignant enemy--the Cat.
The other, on whose form so foul you fell,
Is simply harmless, and will be our meal,
Perhaps, some day; while, as for that meek beast,
On us he dearly loves to leap and steal,
And crunch and munch us for his cruel feast.
Take care, my child, in any case,
Judge no one by their look or face."

FABLE CX.

THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE OTHER ANIMALS.

The Animals (the Lion dead)
Resolved to choose a King instead;
The crown was taken from its case--
A dragon guarded well the place.
They tried the crown, but, when they'd done,
It would not fit a single one.
Some heads too large, and some too small;
Many had horns,--defects in all.
The Monkey, laughing, tried it, too,
And got his mocking visage through,
With many wild, fantastic faces;
And twisting gambols and grimaces.
A hoop, at last, around his waist
He wore it, and they cried, "Well placed!"
He was elected. Each one paid
Their homage to the King they'd made.
The Fox alone laments the choice,
But chokes it down with flattering voice.
Paving his little compliments,
To hide his secret sentiments.
"Sire," to the King, he said, "I've pleasure
To tell you I have found a treasure;
A secret, but to me alone--
All treasures fall unto the throne."
The young King, eager at finance,
Ran fast himself, to catch the chance.
It was a trap, and he was caught.
The Fox said, when his aid he sought,
"You think to govern us and rule;
You cannot save yourself, you fool!"
They turned him out, and, with some wit,
Agreed that few a crown will fit.

FABLE CXI.

THE MULE THAT BOASTED OF HIS FAMILY.

An Episcopal Mule, of its family proud,
Would <i>not</i> keep his ancestry under a cloud,
But chattered, and bragged of his mother the mare:
Of her having done this, and her having been there;
And vowed that so famous a creature ignored,
Was a shame and disgrace to historian's record.
He frankly disdained on a doctor to wait,
And patiently stand at a poor patient's gate.
At last, growing old, in the mill he's confined,
Then his father, the donkey, came into his mind.
A misfortune is useful, if only to bring
A fool to his senses--a very good thing--
It's sent for a purpose, and always will be
Useful to some one or something, you see.

FABLE CXII.

THE OLD MAN AND THE ASS.

An Old Man, riding on a Donkey, saw
A meadow thick with flowers, and full of grass.
He instantly unbridled the poor Ass,
And let him roam for twenty minutes' law.
It scratch'd, and scratch'd, and munch'd, and chew'd, and bray'd
Nipping the best, and kicking, for sheer fun:
The meal refreshing was betimes begun.
Just then the enemy came, all arrayed:
"Fly," said the Old Man. "Wherefore?" said the beast;
"Am I to carry double burden--double load?
Am I to tramp once more upon the road?"
"No," said the Old Man; "I'll stop here, at least."
"To whom I may belong is no great matter.
Go, save yourself from an unlucky blow;
My master is my enemy, I know:
I tell you in the best French I can patter."

FABLE CXIII.

THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT.

Æsop describes, as he's well able,
A Peasant, wise and charitable,
Who, walking on a winter day
Around his farm, found by the way
A snake extended on the snow,
Frozen and numb--half dead, you know.
He lifts the beast, with friendly care,
And takes him home to warmer air--
Not thinking what reward would be
Of such an unwise charity.
Beside the hearth he stretches him,
Warms and revives each frozen limb.
The creature scarcely feels the glow,
Before its rage begins to flow:
First gently raised its head, and rolled
Its swelling body, fold on fold;
Then tried to leap, and spring, and bite
Its benefactor;--was that right?
"Ungrateful!" cried the man; "then I
Will give you now your due--you die!"
With righteous anger came the blow
From the good axe. It struck, and, lo!
Two strokes--three snakes--its body, tail,
And head; and each, without avail,
Trying to re-unite in vain,
They only wriggle in long pain.

It's good to lavish charity;
But then on whom? Well, that's just it.
As for ungrateful men, they die
In misery, and as 'tis fit.

FABLE CXIV.

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE.

It's not enough that you run fleet;
Start early,--that's the way to beat.

The Tortoise said unto the Hare,
"I'll bet you, free, and frank, and fair,
You do not reach a certain place
So soon as I, though quick your pace."
"So soon?" the nimble creature cries;
"Take physic for your brains;--be wise"--
"Fool or no fool, I make the bet."
The bet is made, the stakes are set;
But who the sporting judges were
Is neither your nor my affair.
Our Hare had but a bound to make,
From him the swiftest hounds to shake.
They run themselves almost to death,
Yet he is scarcely out of breath;
Plenty of time for him to browse,
To sleep, and then again to rouse;
Or boldly turn the while he's going,
And mark which way the wind is blowing.
Careless, he lets the Tortoise pace,
Grave as a senator. To race
With such a thing is but disgrace.
She, in the meanwhile, strives and strains,
And takes most meritorious pains;
Slow, yet unceasing. Still the Hare
Holds it a very mean affair
To start too soon; but when, at last,
The winning-post is almost past
By his dull rival, then, 'tis true,
He quicker than the arrow flew.
Alas! his efforts failed to win,
The Tortoise came the first one in.
"Well," she said then, "now, was I right?
What use was all your swiftness: light
I held your speed, and won the prize;
Where would you be, can you surmise,
If with my house upon your shoulders,
You tried to startle all beholders?"

FABLE CXV.

THE SICK LION AND THE FOX.

The King of Beasts was sick to death,
And, almost with his latest breath,
Made known to all his vassals he
Needed their deepest sympathy.
As in his cave he lay, he stated,
For friendly visitors he waited.
With every guarantee insured,
The deputies went, quite secured;
Upon the Lion's passport writ,
In fair round hand, each word of it--
A promise good, in eyes of law,

Whether against tooth or claw.
The Prince's will to execute
Goes every class of beast and brute.
The Foxes only kept at home;
One gave the reason he'd not come:
"The footprints of the courtiers, see,
Are all one way, that's plain to me:
But none point homeward. It is just
If I feel somewhat of distrust.
Our sick King's courtiers may dispense
With passports, for they're full of sense.
Granted, no doubt; and yet I crave
They'll show me how to leave the cave.--
I clearly see they enter. Well!
But how they leave it who can tell?"

FABLE CXVI.

THE ASS AND HIS MASTERS.

A Gardener's Donkey once complained to Fate
Of having to rise earlier than the sun.
"The cocks," he said, "are certainly not late;
But I have got to rise ere they've begun.
And all for what?--to carry herbs to sell:
A pretty cause to break one's morning sleep!"
Fate, touched by this appeal, determined well
To give the beast to other hands to keep:
The Gardener to a Tanner yields him next.
The weight of hides, and their distressing fume,
Soon shock our friend; he is far worse perplexed:
His mind again begins to lower and gloom.
"I much regret," he said, "my first good man,
For when he turned his head I always got
A bite of cabbage;--that was just my plan:
It cost me not a single sous, or jot;
But here no, no rewards but kick and cuff."--
His fortune shifts; a Charcoal-dealer's stall
Receives him. Still complaints, and <i>quantum suff.</i>
"What! not content yet," Fate cries, "after all?
This Ass is worse than half a hundred kings.
Does he, forsooth, think he's the only one
That's not content? Have I no other things
To fill my mind but this poor simpleton?"
And Fate was right. No man is satisfied:
Our fortune never fits our wayward minds;
The present seems the worst we've ever tried;
We weary Heaven with outcries of all kinds.
And yet, if Jupiter gave each his will,
We should torment his ear with wishes still.

FABLE CXVII.

THE SUN AND THE FROGS.

A Monarch's wedding gave his people up,
The whole day long, to dances and the cup;
But Æsop found their doings in bad taste,
And thought their joy decidedly misplaced.

"The Sun," said he, "once thought about a wife,
And fancied he could shine in married life;
But instantly there came petitions loud
From all the Frogs on earth--a noisy crowd.
'Suppose,' they said, 'the Queen should be prolific,
Our situation will become terrific.
A single sun is quite enough to bear;
The little ones will drive us to despair.
Parched as we are, in sultry summer weather,
The extra heat will roast us altogether.
Let us entreat your mercy on our race;
The river Styx is not a pleasant place!'"

Considering that Frogs are very small,
I think the argument not bad at all.

FABLE CXVIII.

THE CARTER STUCK IN THE MUD.

A Phaeton, who drove a load of hay,
Found himself in the mud stuck hard and fast:
Poor man! from all assistance far away.
(In Lower Brittany he had been cast,
Near Quimper-Corentin, and all may know
'Tis there that Destiny sends folks she hates.
God keep us from such journey here below!)
But to return. The Carter, in the mire,
Rages and swears, and foams and execrates--
His eyes wild rolling, and his face on fire;
Curses the holes, the horses, every stone,

The cart, and then himself. The god he prays,
Whose mighty labours through the world are known:
"O Hercules! send present aid," he says;
"If thy broad back once bore this mighty sphere,
Thy arm can drag me out." His prayer he ends.
Then came a voice from out a cloud quite near:
"To those who strive themselves he succour lends.
Work, and find out where the obstruction lies;
Remove this bird-lime mud you curse so hot;
Clear axle-tree and wheel--be quick and wise;
Take up the pick, and break that flint--why not?
Fill up that yawning rut. Now, is it done?"
"Yes," said the man; and then the voice replied,
"Now I can help you; take your whip, my son."
"I've got it. Hallo! here; what's this?" he cried;
"My cart goes nicely--praise to Hercules."
And then the voices--"You see how readily
Your horses got clear out of jeopardy."
To those who help themselves the gods send help and ease.

FABLE CXIX.

THE DOG AND THE SHADOW.

We all deceive ourselves, and so we fall;
We all run after shadows, in our way:
So many madmen, one can't count them all;
Send them to Æsop's Dog,--I beg and pray.
The Dog, who saw the shadow of the meat
He carried, dark upon the liquid tide,
Dropping his prey, snapped at the counterfeit:
The river rose, and washed him from the side.
True, with much danger, he regained the shore,
But neither meat nor shadow saw he more.

FABLE CXX.

THE BIRD-CATCHER, THE HAWK, AND THE SKYLARK.

Injustice, and false people's wilful crimes,
Serve others as excuses, oftentimes,
For fresh injustice. Nature's law's planned so;
If you wish to be spared, then give no blow.

A Countryman, with glittering looking-glass,
Was catching birds. The brilliant phantom lured
A Lark; when, suddenly, it came to pass
A Sparrow Hawk, of its sweet prey assured,
Dropped from the cloud, and struck swift to the ground
The gentlest bird that sings; though near the tomb,
She had escaped the trap; yet now she found
Beneath that cruel beak at last her doom.
Whilst stripping her, eager and all intent,
The Hawk itself beneath the net was caught.
"Fowler," he cried, "no harm I ever meant:
I never did thee ill, nor ever sought
To do." The man replied, "This helpless thing
Had done no more to thee;--no murmuring!"

FABLE CXXI.

THE HORSE AND THE ASS.

In this world every one must help his brother.
If your poor neighbour dies, his weary load
On you, perhaps, may fall, and on no other.

An Ass and Horse were travelling on the road:
The last had but the harness on his back.
The first, borne down unto the very ground,
Besought the Horse to help him, or, alack!
He'd never reach the town. In duty bound,
Apologies he made for this request:
"To you," he said, "the load will be mere sport."
The Horse refused, and snorted at the jest.
Just as he sneered, the Donkey died. In short,
He soon perceived he had not acted right,
And had his friend ill treated; for that night
They made him drag the cart through thick and thin,
And in the cart his injured comrade's skin.

FABLE CXXII.

THE CHARLATAN.

Of Charlatans the world has never lack:
This science of professors has no want.
Only the other day one made his vaunt
He could cheat Acheron; in white and black
Another boasted o'er the town that, lo!
He was another Cicero.

One of these fellows claimed a mastery
Of eloquence; swore he could make an ass,
"A peasant, rustic, booby, d'ye see?--
Yes, gentlemen, a dolt of basest class--
Eloquent. Bring me an ass," he cried,
"The veriest ass, and I will teach him so,
He shall the cassock wear with proper pride."
The Prince resolved the truth of this to know.
"I have," he to the rhetorician one day said,
"A fine ass from Arcadia in my stable;
Make him an orator, if you are able."
"Sire, you do what you will." The man they made
Accept a sum, for twenty years to teach
The ass the proper use of speech;
And if he failed, he in the market-place,
With halter round his neck, was to be hung;
Upon his back his rhetoric books all strung,
And asses' ears above his frightened face.
One of the courtiers said that he would go
And see him at the gibbet; he'd such grace
And presence, he'd become the hangman's show;
There, above all, his art would come in well:
A long-extended speech--with pathos, too--
Would fit the great occasion, so it fell
In the one form of those grand Ciceros
Vulgarly known as thieves. "Yes, that is true,"
The other said; "but ere I try,
The king, the ass, and you will die."

FABLE CXXIII.

THE YOUNG WIDOW.

A Husband isn't lost without a sigh;
We give a groan, then are consoled again;
Swift on Time's wings we see our sorrow fly;
Fleet Time brings sunshine's pleasure after rain.
The widow of a year, the widow of a day,
Are very different, I say:
One finds it almost hard to trust one's eyes,
Or the same face to recognise.
One flies the world, the other plans her wiles;
In true or untrue sighs the one pours forth her heart,

Yet the same note they sing, or tears or smiles--
"Quite inconsolable," they say; but, for my part,
I don't heed that. This fable shows the truth:
Yet why say fiction?--it is sooth.

The husband of a beauty, young and gay,
Unto another world was call'd away.
"My soul, wait for me!" was the Widow's moan.
The husband waited not, but went alone.
The Widow had a father--prudent man!
He let her tears flow; 'twas the wisest plan.
Then to console, "My child," he said, "this way
Of weeping will soon wash your charms away.
There still live men: think no more of the dead;
I do not say at once I would be wed;
But after a short time you'll see, I know,
A husband young and handsome that I'll show,
By no means like the sorry one you mourn."
"A cloister is my husband--ah! forlorn."
The father let these foolish groans go by;
A month pass'd--every moment tear or sigh.
Another month, and ribbons load her table;
She changed her dress, and cast away her sable.
The flock of Cupids to the dovecot back
Came flying, now unscared by scarecrow black.
Smiles, sports, and dances follow in their train,
She bathes in youth's bright fountain once again.
No more the father fears the dear deceased;
But, as his silence not one whit decreased,
The angry widow cries impatiently,
"Where's the young husband that you promised me?"

FABLE CXXIV.

DISCORD.

Discord, who had the gods entangled
About an apple--how they wrangled!--
Was driven from the skies at last,
And to that animal came fast
That they call Man; her brother, too,
"Whether or no," who long'd to view
Our ball of earth. Her father came--
Old "Thine and Mine"--the very same.
She did much honour to our sphere
By longing so much to be here;
She cared not for the other race
Who watch us from aerial space--
We were gross folk, not tamed the least,
Who married without law or priest--
Discord no business had at all:
The proper places where to call
Scandal has orders to find out;
She, a right busy, active scout,
Falls quick to quarrel and debates,
And always Peace anticipates:
Blows up a spark into a blaze,
Not to burn out for many days.
Scandal, at length, complain'd she found
No refuge certain above ground,
And often lost her precious time:
She must have shelter in this clime--
A point from whence she could send forth
Discord, west, east, or south, or north.
There were no nunneries then, you see:
That made it difficult, may be.
The inn of Wedlock was assign'd
At last, and suited Scandal's mind.

FABLE CXXV.

THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.

A Malady that Heaven sent
On earth, for our sin's punishment--
The Plague (if I must call it right),
Fit to fill Hades in a night--
Upon the animals made war;
Not all die, but all stricken are.
They scarcely care to seek for food,
For they are dying, and their brood.
The Wolves and Foxes crouching keep,
Nor care to watch for timorous Sheep.
Even the very Turtle-doves
Forget their little harmless loves.
The Lion, calling counsel, spoke--
"Dear friends, upon our luckless crown
Heaven misfortune has sent down,
For some great sin. Let, then, the worst
Of all our race be taken first,
And sacrificed to Heaven's ire;
So healing Mercury, through the fire,
May come and free us from this curse,
That's daily growing worse and worse.
History tells us, in such cases
For patriotism there a place is.
No self-deception;--plain and flat
Search each his conscience, mind you that.
I've eaten several sheep, I own.
What harm had they done me?--why, none.
Sometimes--to be quite fair and true--
I've eaten up the shepherd too.
I will devote myself; but, first,
Let's hear if any has done worst.
Each must accuse himself, as I
Have done; for justice would let die
The guiltiest one." The Fox replied--
"You are too good to thus decide.

Your Majesty's kind scruples show
Too much of delicacy. No
What! eating sheep--the paltry--base,
Is that a sin? You did the race,
In munching them, an honour--yes,
I'm free, your highness, to confess.
And as for shepherds, they earn all
The evils that upon them fall:
Being of those who claim a sway
(Fantastic claim!) o'er us, they say."
Thus spoke the Fox the flatterer's text.
The Tiger and the Bear came next,
With claims that no one thought perplexed.
In fact, more quarrelsome they were,
The fewer grew the cavillers there.
Even the humblest proved a saint:
None made a slanderous complaint.
The Ass came in his turn, and said,
"For one thing I myself upbraid.
Once, in a rank green abbey field,
Sharp hunger made me basely yield.
The opportunity was there;
The grass was rich; the day was fair.
Some demon tempted me: I fell,
And cleared my bare tongue's length, pell-mell."
Scarce had he spoken ere they rose
In arms, nor waited for the close.
A Wolf, half lawyer, made a speech,
And proved this creature wrong'd them each
And all, and they must sacrifice
This scurvy wretch, who to his eyes
Was steep'd in every wickedness.
Doom'd to the rope, without redress,
"Hang him at once! What! go and eat
An Abbot's grass, however sweet!
Abominable crime!" they cry;
"Death only clears the infamy."

If you are powerful, wrong or right,
The court will change your black to white.

FABLE CXXVI.

THE RAT WHO RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.

There is a legend of the Levantine,
That once a certain Rat, weary of strife,
Retired into a Dutch cheese, calm, serene,
Far from the bustle and the cares of life.
In solitude extreme, dim stretching far and wide,
The hermit dwelt in all tranquillity,
And worked so well with feet and teeth inside,
Shelter and food were his in certainty.
What need of more? Soon he grew fat with pride;
God showers his blessings upon those who pay
Their vows to him in faith. There came, one day,
A pious deputy, from Ratdom sent,
To beg some trilling alms, because their town--
Ratopolis--was leaguered with intent
Most deadly; they, without a crown,
Had been obliged to fly,--so indigent
Was the assailed republic. Little ask
The scared ambassadors--the succour sure,
In a few days: the loan was no hard task.
"My friend," the hermit cried. "I can endure
No more the things of this world. What have I,
A poor recluse, to give you, but a prayer?
I yield you patiently unto His care."
And then he shut the door, quite tranquilly.

Who do I mean, then, by this selfish Rat?
A monk?--no, sir; a dervish is more fat.
A monk, where'er in this world he may be,
Is always full, you know, of charity.

FABLE CXXVII.

THE HERON.

One day, on his stilt legs, walked, here and there,
A Heron, with long neck and searching beak;
Along a river side he came to seek.
The water was transparent, the day fair,
Gossip, the Carp, was gambolling in the stream:
The Pike, her neighbour, was in spirits, too.
The Heron had no trouble, it would seem,
But to approach the bank, and snap the two;
But he resolved for better appetite
To calmly wait:--he had his stated hours:
He lived by rule. At last, there came in sight
Some Tench, that exercised their finny powers.
They pleased him not, and so he waited still,
Scornful, like rat of whom good Horace wrote.
"What! eat a tench?--I, who can take my fill,
Munch such poor trash?"--he'll sing another note.
The tench refused, a gudgeon next came by:
"A pretty dish for such as me, forsooth!
The gods forgive me if I eat such fry:
I'll never open beak for that:"--and yet, in truth,
He opened for far less. The fish no more
Returned. Then Hunger came;--thus ends my tale.
He who'd rejected dishes half a score,
Was forced, at last, to snap a paltry snail.

Do not be too exacting. The cleverer people are
The sooner pleased, by far.
We all may lose by trying for too much;--
I have known such.
Hold nothing in contempt, and the less so,
If you are needing help, for know
In that trap many fall, not only birds,
Like Herons, to whom now I gave some words.
Listen, my fellow-men,--another fable:
Some lessons can be found amid your lords.

FABLE CXXVIII.

THE MAN BADLY MARRIED.

Oh, that the good and beautiful were wedded!
From early morrow I will seek the pair;
But since they are divorced, the addle-headed
Alone would track them long through sea or air.
Few beauteous bodies shelter beauteous souls;
So don't be angry if I cease pursuit.
Marriages many I have seen. The goals
To which men strive my fancies seldom suit.

The full four-fourths of men rush reckless on,
And brave the deadliest risks;--four-fourths repent.
I'll produce one who, being woe-begone,
Found no resource but sending where he'd sent
Before his hopeless wife, jealous and miserly,
Peevish and fretful;--nothing was done right.
They went to bed too soon--rose tardily;
The white was black, the black was staring white;
The servants groaned, the master swore outright.
"Monsieur is always busy;--he, of course,
Will think of nothing--squanders everything."
So much of this, in fact. Monsieur, <i>par force</i>,
Weary of all this squabble, and the sting,
Sends her back to the country and her friends,--
Phillis, who drives the turkeys, and the men
Who watch the pigs, and very soon she mends.
Grown calmer, he writes for her kindly then:--
"Well, how did time pass? was it pleasant there?
How did you like the country innocence?"
"It's bearable," she said; "the only care
That vexed me was to see the vile pretence
Of industry. Why, those base, lazy patches
Let the herds starve;--not one of them has sense
To do their proper work, except by snatches."
"Come, madam," cried the husband in a rage,
"If you're so peevish that folk out all day
Weary of you, and long to see the stage
That bears you from them anywhere away,
What must the servants feel who, every hour,
Are chased about by your outrageous tongue!
And what the husband, who is in your power
By night and day? Adieu! May I be hung
If I again recall you from the farm;
Or if I do, may I atone the sin
By having Pluto's gloomy realms within
Two wives like you, a shrew for either arm."

FABLE CXXIX.

THE MAIDEN.

A certain Maiden, somewhat proud,
A husband sought from out the crowd
Of suitors. Handsome he's to be, and bold,
Agreeable, young, and neither cold
Nor jealous. Wealth she wished, and birth,
Talent; in fact, all things on earth.
Who could expect to have them all?
Fortune was kind and helped to call
Lovers of rank and eminence.
She thought them mean and wanting sense--
"What! I accept such people? Pish!

You're doting, if that is your wish.
Look at the paltry creatures. See,
Mark how they grin, and ogle me."
One's vulgar; he who dares propose
Has, goodness gracious! such a nose;
This is too short, and that too tall,
Something distinctly wrong in all.
Affected girls are hard to please,
Though lovers sue them on their knees.
After the best were spurned, there came
The humbler people of less name.
She mocked them, too, unmercifully--
"To greet such men is good of me;
Perhaps they think my chance is poor,
Even to venture near my door;
But, Heaven be thanked, I pass my life,
Although alone, quite free from strife."
The Belle was with herself content;
But age came soon, the lovers went.
A year or two passed restlessly;
Then comes chagrin, and by-and-by
She feels that every hurrying day
Chases first smiles, then love away.
Soon wrinkles make her almost faint,
And try a thousand sorts of paint;
But all in vain, when past one's prime,
To shun that mighty robber, Time:
A ruined house you can replace,
But not the ruins of a face.
Her pride abates--her mirror cries,
"A husband get if you are wise;"
Her heart, too, echoes what is said--
E'en prudes are willing to be wed.
A curious choice, at last, she made,
And not a grand one, I'm afraid;
Her choice was what most men called foolish:
A clumsy boor, ill-shaped and mulish.

FABLE CXXX.

THE WISHES.

In the Mogul's dominions far away,
Certain small spirits there are often found,
Who sweep the house and dig the garden ground,
And guard your equipage by night and day:
If you but touch their work, you spoil the whole.
One of these spirits near the Ganges, then,
Toiled at the garden of a citizen;
And with a silent skill worked heart and soul.
He loved his master and his mistress, too,
The garden most. The Zephyrs (Heaven knows),
Friends of the genii, as the story goes,
Perhaps assisted him, whate'er he'd do.
He toiled unceasingly to show his zeal,
Loaded his host with gifts, a brimming store,
Boundless of pleasure; indeed, wished no more
To leave those friends for whom he thus could feel.
Fickle such spirits are, yet true was he;
His brother genii, joining in a plot,
The chief of their republic quickly got,
From some caprice or jealous policy,
To order him to go to Norway straight.
To guard a hut covered with changeless snows,
From India straight to Lapland. Ere he goes
The Spirit with his master holds debate:
"They make me leave you, yet I know not why;
For some forgotten fault, and I obey;
But be the time a month, or but a day,
I'll grant you now Three Wishes ere I fly--
Three, and no more. It is not hard, I know,
For man to wish--how easy, we all see."
They wished Abundance, and then presently
Abundance came; fast from her full hands flow
The golden streams, barns brim with piles of wheat;
The cellars with rich casks are almost burst:
How to arrange the stores--that is the worst;
What ceaseless care! what toil of hands and feet!
Thieves plot against them, nobles will still borrow;
The Prince heaps taxes: hapless is their fate;
Their sorrow, too much fortune, luck too great.
They say, "Take from us wealth, let's wake to-morrow
Poor as before. Happy the indigent;
Poverty's better than such wealth," their cry:
"Treasures, begone, take wings at once, and fly;
Of that so foolish wish we both repent.
Come, Moderation, mother of Repose,
Friend of good sense, O Moderation, come!"
She comes once more unto her former home;
The door behind her joyfully they close.
Two wishes gone, and not so luckily,
Their lot was that of those who dream away
Life in vain sighings, stealing, day by day,
Time better spent in honest industry.
The Spirit smiled at them; ere taking flight,
While yet his wings were spread, the one wish more
They asked; and this time Wisdom--that's a store
That never can embarrass, day or night.

FABLE CXXXI.

THE VULTURES AND THE PIGEONS.

Mars one day set the sky on fire:
A quarrel roused the wild birds' ire--
Not those sweet subjects of the spring,
Who in the branches play and sing;
Not those whom Venus to her car
Harnesses; but the Vulture race,
With crooked beak and villain face.
'Twas for a dog deceased--that's all.
The blood in torrents 'gins to fall;
I only tell the sober truth,
They fought it out with nail and tooth.

I should want breath for the detail,
If I told how with tooth and nail
They battled. Many chiefs fell dead,
Many a dauntless hero bled;
Prometheus on his mountain sighed,
And hoped Jove nearly satisfied.
'Twas pleasure to observe their pains--
'Twas sad to see the corpse-strewn plains.
Valour, address, and stratagem,
By turns were tried by all of them;
By folks so brave no means were lost
To fill each spare place on the coast
Of Styx. Each varied element
Ghosts to the distant realm had sent.
This fury roused, at last, deep pity,
Within the pigeons' quiet city;
They--of the neck of changing hue,
The heart so tender and so true--
Resolved, as well became their nation,
To end the war by mediation.
Ambassadors they chose and sent,
Who worked with such a good intent,
The Vultures cried, "A truce," at last,
And wars red horrors from them cast.
Alas! the Pigeons paid for it;
Their heart was better than their wit;
The cursed race upon them fell,
And made a carnage terrible;
Dispeopled every farm and town,
And struck the unwise people down.

In this, then, always be decided:
Keep wicked people still divided;
The safety of the world depends
On that--sow war among their friends;
Contract no peace with such, I say,
But this is merely by the way.

FABLE CXXXII

THE COURT OF THE LION.