The Fables of La Fontaine

"Each species has its vanity," The Ape said very seriously; "As, for instance, my own; for the lawyers call All but themselves, mean, base, and small. But, on the other hand, self-esteem Leads us to laud our deeds to the sky, As, by doing this, we fondly deem That our own position is raised as high. And now I deduce, from what I have said, That much so-called talent is mere grimace-- A trick which, as wise men know, has led Many an idiot to power and place. "Whilst following close, but the other day, The steps of two Asses, who foolishly Fed each other with flattery, I heard the one to the other say, Is it not, sir, a shame and disgrace That the tribe of mankind, that perfect race, Should profane our dignified name, by denoting As asses all those that are stupid or doting? And even has ventured such lengths as to say, That, when mortals speak nonsense, they utter a bray! 'Tis pleasant, forsooth, to perceive how mankind Dream they're above us, and yet are so blind. No, no, let their orators silent remain, For they are the brayers, and fools in grain; But with man let us cease one another to bother: 'Tis enough that we quite comprehend one another. I will only here add that you have but to speak, To make larks seem hoarse, and the blackbird to squeak.' 'These qualities, sir,' then the other replied, 'In yourself, in the fullest perfection, reside.' And, having thus spattered each other with praise, They trot far and wide to repeat the same craze; Each fondly in hope, like a couple of crows, That a caw shall come back for the caw he bestows. But this trait is not asinine only, I own, For I myself many great people have known Who would gladly, instead of my-lording each other, Have said, each to each, 'My Imperial Brother!' But I've spoken too long, and will only request That this secret be hid in your Majesty's breast: Since your Majesty wished me some trait to divulge, Which would show him how those who in self-love indulge Become objects of scorn; it would take me too long To show also, now, how it leads to worse wrong." Thus spoke the Monkey false by nature; But it has still in doubt remained If he the other point explained; Your Monkey is a knowing creature, And knows it is not fortunate To be too truthful with the great. FABLE CCXV. THE WOLF AND THE FOX. Why to the Fox does Æsop ever Give the palm of being clever? I the reason oft have sought, Without of reason finding aught. When the Wolf's engaged in strife, To save his own or take a life, The Fox can do no more than he, Or half as much, and so I might With Master Æsop disagree. But there's a case has come to light, In which 'tis fair I should admit The Fox displayed the greater wit. On one fine night it so befell That Reynard, looking down a well, The moons full silver circle sees, And takes it for a lordly cheese. Two pails, above the well suspended, To draw the water were intended; And into that which higher hung, Good Master Reynard, famished, sprung. Down swift he went, and, to his woe, Found out his sad mistake below. He saw his death before his eyes; For he could never hope to rise, Unless some other famished thing, Enticed by Dian's silver face, Into the other pail should spring, And then, by sinking, take his place. Two days passed on without a visit From any creature; and, meanwhile, Old Time had made a huge deficit In Mistress Moon's well-rounded smile. But, just as all seemed lost, at last A hungry Wolf the well's mouth past; To whom the Fox, with joyous hail, Cried, "Mister Wolf, with me regale; This glorious cheese you here behold, From Fauna's hands received its mould, Of milk which heifer Io gave. If Jupiter were lying ill, I think the god himself would crave Of this delicious cheese to have his fill. I've eaten my share, as you plainly may see, But enough still remains both for you and for me; So, enter that pail, placed expressly for you." Now, whether this story was told well, or not, The Wolf, like a fool, took it all in as true, And into the bucket with eagerness got; When, outweighed, of course, Master Reynard got up, And the other remained, on the moonshine to sup. And yet, why blame the luckless beast? For, tempted by some phantom feast, As easily deceived, That which he hopes, or that he fears, In either of the hemispheres. Is by each man believed. FABLE CCXVI. THE SICK STAG. In a land where stags abounded, One fell very sick indeed; And he saw his bed surrounded By a dozen "friends in need." "Gentlemen!" he muttered, "leave me, Leave me, I implore, to fate: Since your tears can only grieve me, And your solace comes too late." Not a bit;--their lamentations Lasted for a week, or more;

Illustration note

[Illustration: THE SICK STAG.]

While they took their daily rations From his very scanty store. Bit by bit his food diminished, Under such attacks as these; Till the sufferer's course was finished By starvation--not disease. For comforters of every kind Some fee is necessary, mind; And nobody will give advice, Or shed a tear, without his price. FABLE CCXVII. THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS. TO THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY. Of equal age, lived closed together A Sparrow and a Cat; And he of fur and he of feather Grew so familiar, that The bird could fearlessly provoke His formidable friend in joke. To peck out eyes the one with beak pretended, The other with protruded claws defended. The Cat, however, truth to say, Was always gentle in his play; And though he showed his claws, took care His little chirping friend to spare. The fretful Sparrow, much less meek, His tiny fury tried to wreak On Master Cat, who only purred, And thence this truth may be inferred, That friends should never, in dissension, Let quarrel grow to strife's dimension. Still old acquaintance ne'er forgot Kept their strifes from growing hot, And battle never sprang from play. But yet it chanced, one luckless day, A neighbouring Sparrow heedless flew To where Miss Chirp and Master Mew Had lived so long in amity. At first 'twas well; but, by-and-by, The birds grew jealous, and in rage Gave vent to wrath none could assuage. The Cat, aroused from hearth-rug sleep, Endeavoured first the peace to keep, But finding that in vain, declared, "What! let this stranger Sparrow come To eat my friend in his own home? It shall not be." His claws he bared, And soon, without a spoon or fork, Of Master Chirp made but short work. The Sparrow eaten, said the Cat, "A most delicious morsel, that!" And as no other bird was near, Next swallowed his companion dear. From this what moral shall I learn? Without a moral, fables are But empty phantoms--deserts bare. Some glimpse of moral I discern, But I'll not trace it; I've no fear But that your Grace will see it clear. For you 'tis only simple play; But for my muse in any way 'Twere toil. In fact, I'll not the truth let fall For you, who need it not at all. FABLE CCXVIII. THE MISER AND THE APE. A Man was a Miser; every one knows That his was a vice which grows and grows: This was a man that filled jars and buckets, Old stockings and coffers, with pistoles and ducats. 'Tis a maxim of mine that such things left unused, I mean pistoles and ducats, are simply abused. To secure all his wealth from the lovers of stealth, My Miser had built him a home, Surrounded by waves with their foam, And there with a pleasure the which To some seems but poor, to some rich, He heaped up his wealth with delight, And every day, and each night, He counted the sum, and re-counted, And gloated to see how it mounted; But, somehow, count well as he might, The gold pieces never came right. And the source of this grievous disaster Was this, that an Ape, than his master More wise, to my mind, took a pleasure In flinging to seaward his treasure. The Miser secure, With his double-locked door, Was wont to leave silver and gold All loose on his table, untold. "Ah! ah!" said the Monkey, one day; "I'll fling this in the sea; 'twill be gay." Now for me it were hard to decide If the Master or Ape were the wiser, 'Twould be half for the Ape, half for Miser. Well, as I've said, the Ape, one day, Laying hands on Master's gold, Many a ducat flung away, With sovereigns new and angels old. With huge delight he tried his skill, And ducks and drakes made with a will, Of golden coins which mortals seem To think of mortal goods the cream. In fact, had not the Monkey heard The key within the key-hole stirred, And feared its Master, every coin Had gone its comrades to rejoin, And 'neath the waves with golden flecks Had lit the gloomy floor of wrecks. Now, blessings on each Miser's head, Both whilst he lives and when he's dead. TO THE DUKE OF BURGUNDY, In Answer to a Request for a Fable on "The Cat and the Mouse." To please the youthful Prince whom courtly fame Destines entempled in my works to be, How shall I write a fable with this name-- Le Chat et la Souris? ("The Cat and the Mouse.") How can I represent in verse a maid Who, sweet in aspect, yet still ruthless played With hearts her charms snared, as you see Le petit Chat does la Souris? Shall I sketch Fortune, and show her deceit?-- Tell how she gulls the world with the old cheat? Treating poor self-complacent friends you see Comme le Chat does la Souris? Shall I depict of all earth's royalty The only one her restless wheel that stays? The one who wars with Europe's chivalry; And with the strongest of his foemen plays, Comme le Chat with la Souris? But as I write, there comes, insensibly, The plan that suits me, if I don't mistake; I should spoil all if lazy I should be: Mockery the Prince of my poor muse would make, Comme le Chat of la Souris. FABLE CCXIX. THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE. A young Mouse, small and innocent, Implored an Old Cat's clemency:-- "Raminagrobis, let me live! Your royal mercy, monarch, give! A Mouse so little, sir, as I A tiny meal can well supply. How could I starve a family? Host, hostess, only look at me; I fatten on a grain of wheat: A mite my dinner makes complete. I'm thin, too, now;--just wait a bit, And for your children I'll be fit." Thus to the Cat the Mouse, aggrieved; The other answered. "You're deceived. Is it to me you talk like that? Go, tell the deaf and dumb--not me: Old Cats don't pardon, so you'll see. The law condemns, and you must die: Descend, and tell the Fates that I