The Fables of Phaedrus Part 27

That Argus by Palladian aid Had ne'er the advent'rous vessel made; In which at first, without dismay, Death's bold professors won their way, In which th' inhospitable main Was first laid open for the bane Of Grecians and barbarians too.

Which made the proud aeetas rue, And whence Medea's crimes to nought The house and reign of Pelias brought.

She--while in various forms she tries Her furious spirit to disguise, At one place in her flight bestow'd Her brother's limbs upon the road; And at another could betray The daughters their own sire to slay."

How think you now?--What arrant tras.h.!.+

And our a.s.sertions much too ras.h.!.+-- Since prior to th' aegean fleet Did Minos piracy defeat, And made adventures on the sea.

How then shall you and I agree?

Since, stern as Cato's self, you hate All tales alike, both small and great.

Plague not too much the man of parts; For he that does it surely smarts.-- This threat is to the fools, that squeam At every thing of good esteem; And that they may to taste pretend, Ev'n heaven itself will discommend.

VII. THE VIPER AND THE FILE.

He that a greater biter bites, His folly on himself requites, As we shall manifest forthwith.-- There was a hovel of a smith, Where a poor Viper chanced to steal, And being greedy of a meal, When she had seized upon a file, Was answer'd in this rugged style: "Why do you think, O stupid snake!

On me your usual meal to make, Who've sharper teeth than thine by far, And can corrode an iron bar?"

VIII. THE FOX AND THE GOAT.

A crafty knave will make escape, When once he gets into a sc.r.a.pe, Still meditating self-defence, At any other man's expense.

A Fox by some disaster fell Into a deep and fenced well: A thirsty Goat came down in haste, And ask'd about the water's taste, If it was plentiful and sweet?

At which the Fox, in rank deceit, "So great the solace of the run, I thought I never should have done.

Be quick, my friend, your sorrows drown."

This said, the silly Goat comes down.

The subtle Fox herself avails, And by his horns the mound she scales, And leaves the Goat in all the mire, To gratify his heart's desire.

IX. THE TWO BAGS.

Great Jove, in his paternal care, Has giv'n a man two Bags to bear; That which his own default contains Behind his back unseen remains; But that which others' vice attests Swags full in view before our b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Hence we're inevitably blind, Relating to the Bag behind; But when our neighbours misdemean, Our censures are exceeding keen.

X. THE SACRILEGIOUS THIEF.

A villain to Jove's altar came To light his candle in the flame, And robb'd the G.o.d in dead of night, By his own consecrated light: Then thus an awful voice was sent, As with the sacrilege he went: "Though all this gold and silver plate As gifts of evil men I hate; And their removal from the fane Can cause the Deity no pain; Yet, caitiff, at th' appointed time, Thy life shall answer for thy crime.

But, for the future, lest this blaze, At which the pious pray and praise, Should guide the wicked, I decree That no such intercourse there be."

Hence to this day all men decline To light their candle at the shrine; Nor from a candle e'er presume The holy light to re-illume.

How many things are here contain'd, By him alone can be explain'd Who could this useful tale invent.

In the first place, herein is meant, That they are often most your foes Who from your fost'ring hand arose.

Next, that the harden'd villain's fate Is not from wrath precipitate, But rather at a destined hour.

Lastly, we're charg'd with all our pow'r, To keep ourselves, by care intense, From all connexions with offence.

XI. HERCULES AND PLUTUS.

Wealth by the brave is justly scorn'd, Since men are from the truth suborn'd, And a full chest perverts their ways From giving or deserving praise.

When Hercules, for matchless worth, Was taken up to heav'n from earth, As in their turns to all the crowd Of gratulating G.o.ds he bow'd, When Plutus, Fortune's son, he spies, He from his face averts his eyes.

Jove ask'd the cause of this disgust: "I hate him, as he is unjust, To wicked men the most inclined, And grand corrupter of mankind."

XII. THE HE-GOATS AND SHE-GOATS.

When the She-Goats from Jove obtain'd A beard, th' indignant Males complain'd, That females by this near approach Would on their gravity encroach.

"Suffer, my sapient friends," says he, "Their eminence in this degree, And bear their beard's most graceful length, As they can never have your strength."

Warn'd by this little tale, agree With men in gen'ral form'd like thee, While you by virtue still exceed, And in the spirit take the lead.

XIII. THE PILOT AND SAILORS.

On hearing a poor man lament His worldly thoughts in discontent, Esop this tale began to write, For consolation and delight.

The s.h.i.+p by furious tempests toss'd, The Mariners gave all for lost; But midst their tears and dread, the scene Is changed at once, and all serene.

The wind is fair, the vessel speeds, The Sailors' boist'rous joy exceeds: The Pilot then, by peril wise, Was prompted to philosophise.

"'Tis right to put a due restraint On joy, and to r.e.t.a.r.d complaint, Because alternate hope and fright Make up our lives of black and white."

XIV. THE MAN AND THE ADDER.

He, that malicious men relieves, His folly in a season grieves.

A Man, against himself humane, Took up an Adder, that had lain And stiffen'd in the frosty air, And in his bosom placed with care, Where she with speed recov'ring breath, Her benefactor stung to death.

Another Adder near the place, On asking why she was so base, Was told, "'Tis others to dissuade From giving wickedness their aid."

XV. THE FOX AND THE DRAGON.

A Fox was throwing up the soil, And while with his a.s.siduous toil He burrow'd deep into the ground, A Dragon in his den he found, A-watching hidden treasure there, Whom seeing, Renard speaks him fair: "First, for your pardon I apply For breaking on your privacy; Then, as you very plainly see That gold is of no use to me, Your gentle leave let me obtain To ask you, what can be the gain Of all this care, and what the fruit, That you should not with sleep recruit Your spirits, but your life consume Thus in an everlasting gloom?"

"'Tis not my profit here to stay,"

He cries; "but I must Jove obey."

"What! will you therefore nothing take Yourself, nor others welcome make?"

"Ev'n so the fates decree:" --"Then, sir, Have patience, whilst I do aver That he who like affections knows Is born with all the G.o.ds his foes.

Since to that place you needs must speed, Where all your ancestors precede, Why in the blindness of your heart Do you torment your n.o.ble part?"

All this to thee do I indite, Thou grudging churl, thy heir's delight, Who robb'st the G.o.ds of incense due, Thyself of food and raiment too; Who hear'st the harp with sullen mien, To whom the piper gives the spleen; Who'rt full of heavy groans and sighs When in their price provisions rise; Who with thy frauds heaven's patience tire To make thy heap a little higher, And, lest death thank thee, in thy will Hast tax'd the undertaker's bill.

XVI. PHaeDRUS, ON HIS FABLES.

What certain envious hearts intend I very clearly comprehend, Let them dissemble e'er so much.-- When they perceive the master's touch, And find 'tis likely to endure, They'll say 'tis Esop to be sure-- But what appears of mean design, At any rate they'll vouch for mine.

These in a word I would refute: Whether of great or no repute, What sprung from Esop's fertile thought This hand has to perfection brought; But waiving things to our distaste, Let's to the destined period haste.

XVII. THE s.h.i.+PWRECK OF SIMONIDES.

A man, whose learned worth is known, Has always riches of his own.

Simonides, who was the head Of lyric bards, yet wrote for bread, His circuit took through every town In Asia of the first renown, The praise of heroes to rehea.r.s.e, Who gave him money for his verse.

When by this trade much wealth was earn'd, Homewards by s.h.i.+pping he return'd (A Cean born, as some suppose): On board he went, a tempest rose, Which shook th' old s.h.i.+p to that degree, She founder'd soon as out at sea.

Some purses, some their jewels tie About them for a sure supply; But one more curious, ask'd the seer, "Poet, have you got nothing here?"

"My all," says he, "is what I am."-- On this some few for safety swam (For most o'erburden'd by their goods, Were smother'd in the whelming floods).

The spoilers came, the wealth demand, And leave them naked on the strand.

It happen'd for the s.h.i.+pwreck'd crew An ancient city was in view, By name Clazomena, in which There lived a scholar learn'd and rich, Who often read, his cares to ease, The verses of Simonides, And was a vast admirer grown Of this great poet, though unknown.

Him by his converse when he traced, He with much heartiness embraced, And soon equipp'd the bard anew, With servants, clothes, and money too, The rest benevolence implored, With case depicted on a board: Which when Simonides espied, "I plainly told you all," he cried, "That all my wealth was in myself; As for your chattels and your pelf, On which ye did so much depend, They're come to nothing in the end."