Fables of La Fontaine Part 41

[29] Abstemius.

XX.--JUPITER AND THE THUNDERBOLTS.

Said Jupiter, one day, As on a cloud he lay, 'Observing all our crimes, Come, let us change the times, By leasing out anew A world whose wicked crew Have wearied out our grace, And cursed us to our face.

Hie h.e.l.lward, Mercury; A Fury bring to me, The direst of the three.

Race nursed too tenderly, This day your doom shall be!'

E'en while he spoke their fate, His wrath began to moderate.

O kings, with whom His will Hath lodged our good and ill, Your wrath and storm between One night should intervene!

The G.o.d of rapid wing, And lip unfaltering, To sunless regions sped, And met the sisters dread.

To grim Tisiphone, And pale Megaera, he Preferr'd, as murderess, Alecto, pitiless.

This choice so roused the fiend, By Pluto's beard she swore The human race no more Should be by handfuls glean'd, But in one solid ma.s.s Th' infernal gates should pa.s.s.

But Jove, displeased with both The Fury and her oath, Despatched her back to h.e.l.l.

And then a bolt he hurl'd, Down on a faithless world, Which in a desert fell.

Aim'd by a father's arm, It caused more fear than harm.

(All fathers strike aside.) What did from this betide?

Our evil race grew bold, Resumed their wicked tricks, Increased them manifold, Till, all Olympus through, Indignant murmurs flew.

When, swearing by the Styx, The sire that rules the air Storms promised to prepare More terrible and dark, Which should not miss their mark.

'A father's wrath it is!'

The other deities All in one voice exclaim'd; 'And, might the thing be named, Some other G.o.d would make Bolts better for our sake.'

This Vulcan undertook.

His rumbling forges shook, And glow'd with fervent heat, While Cyclops blew and beat.

Forth, from the plastic flame Two sorts of bolts there came.

Of these, one misses not: 'Tis by Olympus shot,-- That is, the G.o.ds at large.

The other, bearing wide, Hits mountain-top or side, Or makes a cloud its targe.

And this it is alone Which leaves the father's throne.

XXI.--THE FALCON AND THE CAPON.[30]

You often hear a sweet seductive call: If wise, you haste towards it not at all;-- And, if you heed my apologue, You act like John de Nivelle's dog.[31]

A capon, citizen of Mans, Was summon'd from a throng To answer to the village squire, Before tribunal call'd the fire.

The matter to disguise The kitchen sheriff wise Cried, 'Biddy--Biddy--Biddy!--'

But not a moment did he-- This Norman and a half[32]-- The smooth official trust.

'Your bait,' said he, 'is dust, And I'm too old for chaff.'

Meantime, a falcon, on his perch, Observed the flight and search.

In man, by instinct or experience, The capons have so little confidence, That this was not without much trouble caught, Though for a splendid supper sought.

To lie, the morrow night, In brilliant candle-light, Supinely on a dish 'Midst viands, fowl, and fish, With all the ease that heart could wish-- This honour, from his master kind, The fowl would gladly have declined.

Outcried the bird of chase, As in the weeds he eyed the skulker's face, 'Why, what a stupid, blockhead race!-- Such witless, brainless fools Might well defy the schools.

For me, I understand To chase at word The swiftest bird, Aloft, o'er sea or land; At slightest beck, Returning quick To perch upon my master's hand.

There, at his window he appears-- He waits thee--hasten--hast no ears?'

'Ah! that I have,' the fowl replied; 'But what from master might betide?

Or cook, with cleaver at his side?

Return you may for such a call, But let me fly their fatal hall; And spare your mirth at my expense: Whate'er I lack, 'tis not the sense To know that all this sweet-toned breath Is spent to lure me to my death.

If you had seen upon the spit As many of the falcons roast As I have of the capon host, You would, not thus reproach my wit.'

[30] In the Bidpaii Fables it is "The Falcon and the c.o.c.k."

[31] _John de Nivelle's dog_.--A dog which, according to the French proverb, ran away when his master called him.--Translator.

[32] _This Norman and a half_.--Though the Normans are proverbial for their shrewdness, the French have, nevertheless, a proverb that they come to Paris to be hanged. Hence La Fontaine makes his capon, who knew how to shun a similar fate, _le Normand et demi_--the Norman and a half.--Translator.

XXII.--THE CAT AND THE RAT.[33]

Four creatures, wont to prowl,-- Sly Grab-and-s.n.a.t.c.h, the cat, Grave Evil-bode, the owl, Thief Nibble-st.i.tch, the rat, And Madam Weasel, prim and fine,-- Inhabited a rotten pine.

A man their home discover'd there, And set, one night, a cunning snare.

The cat, a noted early-riser, Went forth, at break of day, To hunt her usual prey.

Not much the wiser For morning's feeble ray, The noose did suddenly surprise her.

Waked by her strangling cry, Grey Nibble-st.i.tch drew nigh: As full of joy was he As of despair was she, For in the noose he saw His foe of mortal paw.

'Dear friend,' said Mrs. Grab-and-s.n.a.t.c.h, 'Do, pray, this cursed cord detach.

I've always known your skill, And often your good-will; Now help me from this worst of snares, In which I fell at unawares.

'Tis by a sacred right, You, sole of all your race, By special love and grace, Have been my favourite-- The darling of my eyes.

'Twas order'd by celestial cares, No doubt; I thank the blessed skies, That, going out to say my prayers, As cats devout each morning do, This net has made me pray to you.

Come, fall to work upon the cord.'

Replied the rat, 'And what reward Shall pay me, if I dare?'

'Why,' said the cat, 'I swear To be your firm ally: Henceforth, eternally, These powerful claws are yours, Which safe your life insures.

I'll guard from quadruped and fowl; I'll eat the weasel and the owl.'

'Ah,' cried the rat, 'you fool!

I'm quite too wise to be your tool.'

He said, and sought his snug retreat, Close at the rotten pine-tree's feet.

Where plump he did the weasel meet; Whom shunning by a happy dodge, He climb'd the hollow trunk to lodge; And there the savage owl he saw.

Necessity became his law, And down he went, the rope to gnaw.

Strand after strand in two he bit, And freed, at last, the hypocrite.

That moment came the man in sight; The new allies took hasty flight.

A good while after that, Our liberated cat Espied her favourite rat, Quite out of reach, and on his guard.

'My friend,' said she, 'I take your shyness hard; Your caution wrongs my grat.i.tude; Approach, and greet your staunch ally.

Do you suppose, dear rat, that I Forget the solemn oath I mew'd?'

'Do I forget,' the rat replied, 'To what your nature is allied?

To thankfulness, or even pity, Can cats be ever bound by treaty?'

Alliance from necessity Is safe just while it has to be.

[33] Another rendering of "The Rat and the Cat" of the Bidpaii collection. See Fable XVI., Book VII.

XXIII.--THE TORRENT AND THE RIVER.[34]

With mighty rush and roar, Adown a mountain steep A torrent tumbled,--swelling o'er Its rugged banks,--and bore Vast ruin in its sweep.