Children's Literature Part 83

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The translation of the following fable is that of W. Lucas Collins, in his _La Fontaine and Other French Fabulists_. This fable has always been a great favorite among the French, and the translator has caught much of the sprightly tone of his original.

THE c.o.c.k, THE CAT, AND THE YOUNG MOUSE

LA FONTAINE

A pert young Mouse, to whom the world was new, Had once a near escape, if all be true.

He told his mother, as I now tell you: "I crossed the mountains that beyond us rise, And, journeying onwards, bore me As one who had a great career before me, When lo! two creatures met my wondering eyes,-- The one of gracious mien, benign and mild; The other fierce and wild, With high-pitched voice that filled me with alarm; A lump of sanguine flesh grew on his head, And with a kind of arm He raised himself in air, As if to hover there; His tail was like a horseman's plume outspread."

(It was a farmyard c.o.c.k, you understand, That our young friend described in terms so grand, As 'twere some marvel come from foreign land.) "With arms raised high He beat his sides, and made such hideous cry, That even I, Brave as I am, thank heaven! had well-nigh fainted: Straightway I took to flight, And cursed him left and right.

Ah! but for him, I might have got acquainted With that sweet creature, Who bore attractiveness in every feature: A velvet skin he had, like yours and mine, A tail so long and fine, A sweet, meek countenance, a modest air-- Yet, what an eye was there!

I feel that, on the whole, He must have strong affinities of soul With our great race--our ears are shaped the same.

I should have made my bow, and asked his name, But at the fearful cry Raised by that monster, I was forced to fly."

"My child," replied his mother, "you have seen That demure hypocrite we call a Cat: Under that sleek and inoffensive mien He bears a deadly hate of Mouse and Rat.

The other, whom you feared, is harmless--quite; Nay, perhaps may serve us for a meal some night.

As for your friend, for all his innocent air, We form the staple of his bill of fare."

_Take, while you live, this warning as your guide--_ _Don't judge by the outside._

243

John Gay (1685-1732) was an English poet and dramatist. His work as a whole has been pretty well forgotten, but he has been recently brought back to the mind of the public by the revival of his satirical _Beggar's Opera_, the ancestor of the modern comic opera. Gay published a collection of fables in verse in 1727, "prepared for the edification of the young Duke of c.u.mberland." A second group, making sixty-six in all, was published after his death. Since these fables are probably the best of their kind in English, a few of them are frequently met with in collections. "The Hare with Many Friends" has been the favorite, and rightly so, as it has something of the humor and point that belong to the real fable.

Perhaps the fact that it has a personal application enabled Gay to write with more vigor and sincerity than elsewhere.

THE HARE WITH MANY FRIENDS

JOHN GAY

Friends.h.i.+p, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame.

The child whom many fathers share, Hath seldom known a father's care.

'Tis thus in friends.h.i.+p; who depend On many rarely find a friend.

A Hare, who, in a civil way, Complied with everything, like Gay, Was known by all the b.e.s.t.i.a.l train Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain.

Her care was, never to offend, And every creature was her friend.

As forth she went at early dawn, To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, Behind she hears the hunter's cries, And from the deep-mouthed thunder flies.

She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near advance of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round: Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear she gasping lay.

What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appeared in view!

"Let me," says she, "your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend.

You know my feet betray my flight; To friends.h.i.+p every burden's light."

The Horse replied: "Poor honest Puss, It grieves my heart to see thee thus; Be comforted; relief is near, For all your friends are in the rear."

She next the stately Bull implored; And thus replied the mighty lord, "Since every beast alive can tell That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend, To take the freedom of a friend; Love calls me hence; a favorite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.

To leave you thus might seem unkind; But see, the Goat is just behind."

The Goat remarked her pulse was high, Her languid head, her heavy eye; "My back," says he, "may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The Sheep was feeble, and complained His sides a load of wool sustained: Said he was slow, confessed his fears, For hounds eat sheep as well as hares.

She now the trotting Calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed.

"Shall I," says he, "of tender age, In this important care, engage?

Older and abler pa.s.sed you by; How strong are those, how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence.

Excuse me, then. You know my heart.

But dearest friends, alas, must part!

How shall we all lament! Adieu!

For see, the hounds are just in view."

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Tomas de Yriarte (1750-1791) was a Spanish poet of some note, remembered now mainly as the author of _Literary Fables_, the first attempt at literary fable-writing in Spanish. As the name is meant to imply, they concern themselves with the follies and weaknesses of authors.

There are about eighty fables in the complete collection, and they are full of ingenuity and cleverness. One of the simplest and best of these is given here in the translation by R.

Rockliffe, which first appeared in _Blackwood's Magazine_ in 1839. It laughs at the lucky chance by which even stupidity sometimes "makes a hit" and then stupidly proceeds to pat itself on the back.

THE MUSICAL a.s.s

TOMAS YRIARTE

The fable which I now present Occurred to me by accident; And whether bad or excellent, Is merely so by accident.

A stupid a.s.s one morning went Into a field by accident And cropp'd his food and was content, Until he spied by accident A flute, which some oblivious gent Had left behind by accident; When, sniffing it with eager scent, He breathed on it by accident, And made the hollow instrument Emit a sound by accident.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" exclaimed the brute, "How cleverly I play the flute!"

_A fool, in spite of nature's bent._ _May s.h.i.+ne for once--by accident._

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Ivan Andreevitch Krylov (1768-1844) was a Russian author whose fame rests almost entirely upon his popular verse fables (200 in number) which have been used extensively as textbooks in Russian schools. They have "joyousness, simplicity, wit, and good humor." The following specimen is from I. H. Harrison's translation of Krylov's _Original Fables_. It gives a good ill.u.s.tration of the necessity of "teamwork."

THE SWAN, THE PIKE, AND THE CRAB

IVAN KRYLOV

When partners with each other don't agree, Each project must a failure be, And out of it no profit come, but sheer vexation.

A Swan, a Pike, and Crab once took their station In harness, and would drag a loaded cart; But, when the moment came for them to start,

They sweat, they strain, and yet the cart stands still; what's lacking?

The load must, as it seemed, have been but light; The Swan, though, to the clouds takes flight, The Pike into the water pulls, the Crab keeps backing.

Now which of them was right, which wrong, concerns us not; The cart is still upon the selfsame spot.