Fables of La Fontaine Part 51

VIII.--THE PARTRIDGE AND THE c.o.c.kS.[16]

With a set of uncivil and turbulent c.o.c.ks, That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks, A partridge was placed to be rear'd.

Her s.e.x, by politeness revered, Made her hope, from a gentry devoted to love, For the courtesy due to the tenderest dove; Nay, protection chivalric from knights of the yard.

That gentry, however, with little regard For the honours and knighthood wherewith they were deck'd, And for the strange lady as little respect, Her ladys.h.i.+p often most horribly peck'd.

At first, she was greatly afflicted therefor, But when she had noticed these madcaps at war With each other, and dealing far bloodier blows, Consoling her own individual woes,-- 'Entail'd by their customs,' said she, 'is the shame; Let us pity the simpletons rather than blame.

Our Maker creates not all spirits the same; The c.o.c.ks and the partridges certainly differ, By a nature than laws of civility stiffer.

Were the choice to be mine, I would finish my life In society freer from riot and strife.

But the lord of this soil has a different plan; His tunnel our race to captivity brings, He throws us with c.o.c.ks, after clipping our wings.

'Tis little we have to complain of but man.'

[16] Aesop.

IX.--THE DOG WHOSE EARS WERE CROPPED.

'What have I done, I'd like to know, To make my master maim me so?

A pretty figure I shall cut!

From other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut.

Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho!

Would any beast have served you so?'

Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young;-- The man, whom pity never stung, Went on to prune him of his ears.

Though Growler whined about his losses, He found, before the lapse of years, Himself a gainer by the process; For, being by his nature p.r.o.ne To fight his brethren for a bone, He'd oft come back from sad reverse With those appendages the worse.

All snarling dogs have ragged ears.

The less of hold for teeth of foe, The better will the battle go.

When, in a certain place, one fears The chance of being hurt or beat, He fortifies it from defeat.

Besides the shortness of his ears, See Growler arm'd against his likes With gorget full of ugly spikes.

A wolf would find it quite a puzzle To get a hold about his muzzle.

X.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.[17]

Two demons at their pleasure share our being-- The cause of Reason from her homestead fleeing; No heart but on their altars kindleth flames.

If you demand their purposes and names, The one is Love, the other is Ambition.

Of far the greater share this takes possession, For even into love it enters, Which I might prove; but now my story centres Upon a shepherd clothed with lofty powers: The tale belongs to older times than ours.

A king observed a flock, wide spread Upon the plains, most admirably fed, O'erpaying largely, as return'd the years, Their shepherd's care, by harvests for his shears.

Such pleasure in this man the monarch took,-- 'Thou meritest,' said he, 'to wield a crook O'er higher flock than this; and my esteem O'er men now makes thee judge supreme.'

Behold our shepherd, scales in hand, Although a hermit and a wolf or two, Besides his flock and dogs, were all he knew!

Well stock'd with sense, all else upon demand Would come of course, and did, we understand.

His neighbour hermit came to him to say, 'Am I awake? Is this no dream, I pray?

You favourite! you great! Beware of kings, Their favours are but slippery things, Dear-bought; to mount the heights to which they call Is but to court a more ill.u.s.trious fall.

You little know to what this lure beguiles.

My friend, I say, Beware!' The other smiles.

The hermit adds, 'See how The court has marr'd your wisdom even now!

That purblind traveller I seem to see, Who, having lost his whip, by strange mistake, Took for a better one a snake; But, while he thank'd his stars, brimful of glee, Outcried a pa.s.senger, "G.o.d s.h.i.+eld your breast!

Why, man, for life, throw down that treacherous pest, That snake!"--"It is my whip."--"A snake, I say: What selfish end could prompt my warning, pray?

Think you to keep your prize?"--"And wherefore not?

My whip was worn; I've found another new: This counsel grave from envy springs in you."-- The stubborn wight would not believe a jot, Till warm and lithe the serpent grew, And, striking with his venom, slew The man almost upon the spot.

And as to you, I dare predict That something worse will soon afflict.'

'Indeed? What worse than death, prophetic hermit?'

'Perhaps, the compound heartache I may term it.'

And never was there truer prophecy.

Full many a courtier pest, by many a lie Contrived, and many a cruel slander, To make the king suspect the judge awry In both ability and candour.

Cabals were raised, and dark conspiracies, Of men that felt aggrieved by his decrees.

'With wealth of ours he hath a palace built,'

Said they. The king, astonish'd at his guilt, His ill-got riches ask'd to see.

He found but mediocrity, Bespeaking strictest honesty.

So much for his magnificence.

Anon, his plunder was a h.o.a.rd immense Of precious stones that fill'd an iron box All fast secur'd by half a score of locks.

Himself the coffer oped, and sad surprise Befell those manufacturers of lies.

The open'd lid disclosed no other matters Than, first, a shepherd's suit in tatters, And then a cap and jacket, pipe and crook, And scrip, mayhap with pebbles from the brook.

'O treasure sweet,' said he, 'that never drew The viper brood of envy's lies on you!

I take you back, and leave this palace splendid, As some roused sleeper doth a dream that's ended.

Forgive me, sire, this exclamation.

In mounting up, my fall I had foreseen, Yet loved the height too well; for who hath been, Of mortal race, devoid of all ambition?'

[17] Bidpaii (_The Hermit_). Also in Lokman.

XI.--THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE.[18]

Thrysis--who for his Annette dear Made music with his flute and voice, Which might have roused the dead to hear, And in their silent graves rejoice-- Sang once the livelong day, In the flowery month of May, Up and down a meadow brook, While Annette fish'd with line and hook.

But ne'er a fish would bite; So the shepherdess's bait Drew not a fish to its fate, From morning dawn till night.

The shepherd, who, by his charming songs, Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs, And done with them as he pleased to, Thought that he could serve the fish so.

'O citizens,' he sang, 'of this water, Leave your Naiad in her grot profound; Come and see the blue sky's lovely daughter, Who a thousand times more will charm you; Fear not that her prison will harm you, Though there you should chance to get bound.

'Tis only to us men she is cruel: You she will treat kindly; A snug little pond she'll find ye, Clearer than a crystal jewel, Where you may all live and do well; Or, if by chance some few Should find their fate Conceal'd in the bait, The happier still are you; For envied is the death that's met At the hands of sweet Annette.'

This eloquence not effecting The object of his wishes, Since it failed in collecting The deaf and dumb fishes,-- His sweet preaching wasted, His honey'd talk untasted, A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing With a fell scoop at the scaly fry, He caught them; and now, madly flouncing, At the feet of his Annette they lie!

O ye shepherds, whose sheep men are, To trust in reason never dare.

The arts of eloquence sublime Are not within your calling; Your fish were caught, from oldest time, By dint of nets and hauling.

[18] Aesop.

XII.--THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND HIS SON.[19]

Two parrots lived, a sire and son, On roastings from a royal fire.

Two demiG.o.ds, a son and sire, These parrots pension'd for their fun.

Time tied the knot of love sincere: The sires grew to each other dear; The sons, in spite of their frivolity, Grew comrades boon, in joke and jollity; At mess they mated, hot or cool; Were fellow-scholars at a school.