The Fables of La Fontaine
Another blamed the front; and one and all
Agreed the rooms were very much too small.
"What! such a house for our great sage,
The pride and wonder of the age!"
"Would Heaven," said he, quite weary of the Babel,
"Was only able.
Small as it is, to fill it with true friends."
And here the story ends.
Just reason had good Socrates
To find his house too large for these.
Each man you meet as friend, your hand will claim;
Fool, if you trust the proffers that such bring.
There's nothing commoner than Friendship's name;
There's nothing rarer than the thing.
FABLE LXXXV.
THE OLD MAN AND HIS CHILDREN.
All power is feeble, if it's disunited:
Upon this head now hear the Phrygian slave.
If I add verse to his, which has delighted,
It's not from envy; but in hopes to grave
And paint our modern manners--feeble-sighted--
Had I ambition for mere foolish aims.
Phædrus, in eager search for glory,
Enriched full many an ancient story;
Ill-fitting me were such pretentious claims.
But let us to our fable--rather history,
Of him who tried to make his sons agree.
An Old Man, when Death called, prepared to go---
"My children dear," he said, "try now to break
This knotted sheaf of arrows. I will show
The way they're tied--what progress can you make?"
The eldest, having done his very best,
Exclaimed, "I yield them to a stronger one."
The second strove across his knee and chest,
Then passed them quickly to the younger son:
They lost their time, the bundle was too strong,
The shafts together none could snap or bend.
"Weak creatures!" said their sire, "pass them along;
My single arm the riddle soon will end."
They laughed, and thought him joking; but not so,
Singly the arrows quickly fell in twain;
"Thus may you concord's power, my children, know;
Agree in love and never part again."
He spoke no more, he felt his life was done;
And then, perceiving death was very near,
"Dear sons," said he, "I go where all have gone;
Promise to live like brothers; let me hear
Your joint vow--now, grant your father this:"
Then, weeping, each one gives the parting kiss.
He joins their hands and dies; a large estate
He left, but tangled up with heavy debts.
This creditor seized land still in debate;
That neighbour brought an action for assets:
The brothers' love was short, you well may guess;
Blood joined and interest severed the brief tie;
Ambition, envy, led to base <i>finesse</i>--
The subdivision bred chicanery.
The judge by turns condemns them all,
Neighbours and creditors assail;
To loggerheads the plighted brothers fall.
The union's sundered--one agrees
To compromise; the other ventures on,
And soon the money is all gone
In wrangling about lawyers' fees.
They lose their wealth, and then, downhearted,
Regretful talk of how, in joke,
Their father broke
Those arrows, when they once were parted.
FABLE LXXXVI.
THE ORACLE AND THE IMPIOUS MAN.
None wish to cozen heaven but the fool;
The mystic labyrinths of the human heart
Lie open to the gods in every part:
All that man does is under their wise rule,
Even things done in darkness are revealed
To those from whom no single act's concealed.
A Pagan--a vile rogue in grain,
Whose faith in gods, it's very plain,
Was but to use them as a dictionary,
For consultation wary--
Went once to try Apollo to deceive,
With or without his leave.
"Is what I hold," he said, "alive or no?"
He held a sparrow, you must know,
Prepared to kill it or to let it fly;
To give the god at once the lie.
Apollo saw the plan within his head,
And answered--
"Dead or alive," he said, "produce your sparrow.
Try no more tricks, for I can always foil;
Such stratagems, you see, do but recoil.
I see afar, and far I cast my arrow."
FABLE LXXXVII.
THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR.
Mountain in labour announced the new birth
With clamour so loud that the people all thought
'Twould at least bear a city, the largest on earth.
It was merely a Mouse that the incident brought.
When I think of this fable, so false in its fact,
And so true in its moral, it brings to my mind
Those common-place authors who try to attract
Attention by means of the subjects they find.
"I will sing about Jove and the Titans," cries one;
But how often the song comes to nothing, when done!
FABLE LXXXVIII.
FORTUNE AND THE LITTLE CHILD.
Beside a well profoundly deep
A Schoolboy laid him down to sleep.
Ere care has racked with aches the head,
The hardest bank 's a feather bed;
A grown-up man, in such a case,
Had leaped a furlong from the place.
Happy for him, just then came by
Fortune, and saw him heedless lie.
She woke him softly, speaking mild:
"I've saved your life, you see, my child.
Another time you close your eyes,
Be just a little bit more wise.
If you had fallen down below,
'Twould have been laid to me, I know,
Though your own fault; and now, I pray,
Before I take myself away,
In honest truth you'll own the same,
For I was hardly here to blame.
It was not <i>my</i> caprice or joke."
The goddess vanished as she spoke.
And she was right; for never yet
Have any a misfortune met,
But Fortune's blamed: she has to pay
For our misdoings every day.
For all mad, foolish, ill-planned schemes
We try to justify our dreams
By rating her with curses strong.
In one word, <i>Fortune's always wrong.</i>
FABLE LXXXIX.
THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT.
"Neighbour," said the Iron Pot,
"Let us go abroad a little."
"Thank you, I would rather not,"
Was the answer that he got.
Earthenware, you know, is brittle;
And the weaker Pot was wiser
Than to trust his bad adviser.
"Mighty well for <i>you</i>" said he;
"Skin like yours can hardly suffer
Very much by land or sea,
That is clear; but, as for <i>me</i>,
Stop till I'm a little tougher.
<i>You</i> may roam the wide world over;
I shall stay at home in clover."
"Friend!" the Iron Pot replied,
"Don't let such a fear affect you;
I shall travel at your side:
So, whatever may betide,
Cling to me, and I'll protect you."
Having won his friend's compliance,
Off they started in alliance.
Jigging, jogging, on they went,
Knocking one against the other;
Till the Earthen Pot was sent
(Past the powers of cement)
Into atoms by his brother.
'Twas his <i>own</i> imprudence, clearly,
That was paid for very dearly.
With our equals let us mate,
Or dread the weaker vessel's fate.
FABLE XC.
THE HARE'S EARS.
The Lion, wounded by some subject's horn,
Was naturally wroth, and made decree
That all by whom such ornaments were worn
From his domains forthwith should banished be.
Bulls, Rams, and Goats at once obeyed the law:
The Deer took flight, without an hour's delay.
A timid Hare felt smitten, when he saw
The shadow of his ears, with deep dismay.
He feared that somebody, with eyes too keen,
Might call them horns, they looked so very long.
"Adieu, friend Cricket," whispered he; "I mean
To quit the place directly, right or wrong.
These ears are perilous; and, though I wore
A couple short as any Ostrich wears,
I still should run." The Cricket asked, "What for?
Such ears are only natural in Hares."
"They'll pass for horns," his frightened friend replied;
"For Unicorn's appendages, I'm sure.
And folks, if I deny it, will decide
On sending me to Bedlam, as a cure."
FABLE XCI.
THE FOX WITH HIS TAIL CUT OFF.
A sly old Fox, a foe of Geese and Rabbits,
Was taken captive in a trap one day
(Just recompense of predatory habits),
And lost his tail before he got away.
He felt ashamed at such a mutilation;
But, cunning as before, proposed a way
To gain companions in his degradation;
And spoke as follows, on a council-day:--
"Dear brother Foxes, what can be the beauty
Or use of things so cumbrous and absurd?
They only sweep the mud up. It's your duty
To cut them off--it is, upon my word!"
"Not bad advice: there <i>may</i> be wisdom in it,"
Remarked a sage, "but will you, by-the-by,
Oblige us all by turning round a minute,
Before we give a positive reply?"
You never heard such hurricanes of laughter
As hailed the cropped appearance of the rogue.
Of course, among the Foxes, ever after,
Long tails continued very much in vogue.
FABLE XCII.
THE SATYR AND THE PASSER-BY.
A savage Satyr and his brood
Once took their lodgings and their food
Within a cavern deep and drear,
Which only very few came near.
The Satyr, with his sons and wife,
Led quite an unpretending life:
Good appetite supplies the place
Of luxuries in such a case.
A Traveller, who passed that way,
Entered the cave one rainy day;
The Satyr proved a friend in need.
By asking him to stop and feed.
The other, as 'twas pouring still,
Of course, accepted with a will:
And warmed his fingers with his breath,
For he was frozen half to death:
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.