Part 3

A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, Soon after chanced this dove to spy; And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, The hungry codger doubted not The bird of Venus, in his pot, Would make a soup before the morrow. Just as his deadly bow he drew, Our ant just bit his heel. Roused by the villain's squeal, The dove took timely hint, and flew Far from the rascal's coop;-- And with her flew his soup.

[Illustration: THE DOVE AND THE ANT.]

The Cock and the Fox.

Upon a tree there mounted guard A veteran cock, adroit and cunning; When to the roots a fox up running, Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard:-- "Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; Henceforth I hope to live your friend; For peace now reigns Throughout the animal domains. I bear the news:--come down, I pray, And give me the embrace fraternal; And please, my brother, don't delay. So much the tidings do concern all, That I must spread them far to-day. Now you and yours can take your walks Without a fear or thought of hawks. And should you clash with them or others, In us you'll find the best of brothers;-- For which you may, this joyful night, Your merry bonfires light. But, first, let's seal the bliss With one fraternal kiss." "Good friend," the cock replied, "upon my word, A better thing I never heard; And doubly I rejoice To hear it from your voice; And, really there must be something in it, For yonder come two greyhounds, which I flatter Myself are couriers on this very matter. They come so fast, they'll be here in a minute. I'll down, and all of us will seal the blessing With general kissing and caressing." "Adieu," said fox; "my errand's pressing; I'll hurry on my way, And we'll rejoice some other day." So off the fellow scamper'd, quick and light, To gain the fox-holes of a neighbouring height, Less happy in his stratagem than flight. The cock laugh'd sweetly in his sleeve;-- 'Tis doubly sweet deceiver to deceive.

[Illustration: THE COCK AND THE FOX.]

The Lion beaten by the Man.

A picture once was shown, In which one man, alone, Upon the ground had thrown A lion fully grown. Much gloried at the sight the rabble. A lion thus rebuked their babble:-- "That you have got the victory there, There is no contradiction. But, gentles, possibly you are The dupes of easy fiction: Had we the art of making pictures, Perhaps our champion had beat yours!"

[Illustration: THE LION BEATEN BY THE MAN.]

Philomel and Progne.

From home and city spires, one day, The swallow Progne flew away, And sought the bosky dell Where sang poor Philomel. "My sister," Progne said, "how do you do? 'Tis now a thousand years since you Have been conceal'd from human view; I'm sure I have not seen your face Once since the times of Thrace. Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?" "Where could I find," said Philomel, "so sweet?" "What! sweet?" cried Progne--"sweet to waste Such tones on beasts devoid of taste Or on some rustic, at the most! Should you by deserts be engross'd? Come, be the city's pride and boast. Besides, the woods remind of harms That Tereus in them did your charms." "Alas!" replied the bird of song, "The thought of that so cruel wrong Makes me, from age to age, Prefer this hermitage; For nothing like the sight of men Can call up what I suffer'd then."

[Illustration: PHILOMEL AND PROGNE.]

The Camel and the Floating Sticks.

The first who saw the humpback'd camel Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare The desert wanderer to trammel. Such is the power of use to change The face of objects new and strange; Which grow, by looking at, so tame, They do not even seem the same. And since this theme is up for our attention, A certain watchman I will mention, Who, seeing something far Away upon the ocean, Could not but speak his notion That 'twas a ship of war. Some minutes more had past,-- A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail, And then a boat, and then a bale, And floating sticks of wood at last!

_Full many things on earth, I wot,_ _Will claim this tale,--and well they may;_ _They're something dreadful far away,_ _But near at hand--they're not._

[Illustration: THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.]

The Wolf, the Goat, and the Kid.

As went a goat of grass to take her fill, And browse the herbage of a distant hill, She latch'd her door, and bid, With matron care, her kid; "My daughter, as you live, This portal don't undo To any creature who This watchword does not give: 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!'" The wolf was passing near the place By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, And laid them up as useful treasure; And hardly need we mention, Escaped the goat's attention. No sooner did he see The matron off, than he, With hypocritic tone and face, Cried out before the place, "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!" Not doubting thus to gain admission. The kid, not void of all suspicion, Peer'd through a crack, and cried, "Show me white paw before You ask me to undo the door." The wolf could not, if he had died, For wolves have no connection With pains of that complexion. So, much surprised, our gourmandiser Retired to fast till he was wiser.

_How would the kid have been undone_ _Had she but trusted to the word?_ _The wolf by chance had overheard!_ _Two sureties better are than one;_ _And caution's worth its cost,_ _Though sometimes seeming lost._

[Illustration: THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.]

The Rat Retired from the World.

The sage Levantines have a tale About a rat that weary grew Of all the cares which life assail, And to a Holland cheese withdrew. His solitude was there profound, Extending through his world so round. Our hermit lived on that within; And soon his industry had been With claws and teeth so good, That in his novel hermitage, He had in store, for wants of age, Both house and livelihood. One day this personage devout, Whose kindness none might doubt, Was ask'd, by certain delegates That came from Rat-United-States, For some small aid, for they To foreign parts were on their way, For succour in the great cat-war. Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, Their whole republic drain'd and poor, No morsel in their scrips they bore. Slight boon they craved, of succour sure In days at utmost three or four. "My friends," the hermit said, "To worldly things I'm dead. How can a poor recluse To such a mission be of use? What can he do but pray That God will aid it on its way? And so, my friends, it is my prayer That God will have you in his care." His well-fed saintship said no more, But in their faces shut the door.

_What think you, reader, is the service_ _For which I use this niggard rat?_ _To paint a monk? No, but a dervise._ _A monk, I think, however fat,_ _Must be more bountiful than that._

[Illustration: THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.]

The Cunning Fox.

A fox once practised, 'tis believed, A stratagem right well conceived. The wretch, when in the utmost strait By dogs of nose so delicate, Approach'd a gallows, where, A lesson to like passengers, Or clothed in feathers or in furs, Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were. Their comrade, in his pressing need, Arranged himself among the dead. I seem to see old Hannibal Outwit some Roman general, And sit securely in his tent, The legions on some other scent. But certain dogs, kept back To tell the errors of the pack, Arriving where the traitor hung, A fault in fullest chorus sung. Though by their bark the welkin rung, Their master made them hold the tongue. Suspecting not a trick so odd, Said he, "The rogue's beneath the sod. My dogs, that never saw such jokes, Won't bark beyond these honest folks."

The rogue would try the trick again. He did so to his cost and pain. Again with dogs the welkin rings; Again our fox from gallows swings; But though he hangs with greater faith This time, he does it to his death.

_So uniformly is it true,_ _A stratagem is best when new._

[Illustration: THE CUNNING FOX.]

The Ape.

There is an ape in Paris, To which was given a wife: Like many a one that marries, This ape, in brutal strife, Soon beat her out of life. Their infant cries,--perhaps not fed,-- But cries, I ween, in vain; The father laughs: his wife is dead, And he has other loves again, Which he will also beat, I think,-- Return'd from tavern drown'd in drink.

_For aught that's good, you need not look_ _Among the imitative tribe;_ _A monkey be it, or what makes a book--_ _The worse, I deem--the aping scribe._

[Illustration: THE APE.]

The Fox, the Flies, and the Hedgehog.

A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly,-- By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud,-- Attracted by the traces of his blood, That buzzing parasite, the fly. He blamed the gods, and wonder'd why The Fates so cruelly should wish To feast the fly on such a costly dish. "What! light on me! make me its food! Me, me, the nimblest of the wood! How long has fox-meat been so good? What serves my tail? Is it a useless weight? Go,--Heaven confound thee, greedy reprobate!-- And suck thy fill from some more vulgar veins!" A hedgehog, witnessing his pains, (This fretful personage Here graces first my page,) Desired to set him free From such cupidity. "My neighbour fox," said he, "My quills these rascals shall empale, And ease thy torments without fail." "Not for the world, my friend!" the fox replied. "Pray let them finish their repast. These flies are full. Should they be set aside, New hungrier swarms would finish me at last."

_Consumers are too common here below,_ _In court and camp, in church and state, we know._ _Old Aristotle's penetration_ _Remark'd our fable's application;_ _It might more clearly in our nation._ _The fuller certain men are fed,_ _The less the public will be bled._

[Illustration: THE FOX THE FLIES & THE HEDGEHOG.]

The Eagle and the Magpie.

The eagle, through the air a queen, And one far different, I ween, In temper, language, thought, and mien,-- The magpie,--once a prairie cross'd. The by-path where they met was drear, And Madge gave up herself for lost; But having dined on ample cheer, The eagle bade her, "Never fear; You're welcome to my company; For if the king of gods can be Full oft in need of recreation,-- Who rules the world,--right well may I, Who serve him in that high relation: Amuse me, then, before you fly." Our cackler, pleased, at quickest rate Of this and that began to prate. No fool, or babbler for that matter, Could more incontinently chatter. At last she offer'd to make known-- A better spy had never flown-- All things, whatever she might see, In travelling from tree to tree. But, with her offer little pleased-- Nay, gathering wrath at being teased,-- For such a purpose, never rove,-- Replied th' impatient bird of Jove. "Adieu, my cackling friend, adieu; My court is not the place for you: Heaven keep it free from such a bore!" Madge flapp'd her wings, and said no more.

_'Tis far less easy than it seems_ _An entrance to the great to gain._ _The honour oft hath cost extremes_ _Of mortal pain._ _The craft of spies, the tattling art,_ _And looks more gracious than the heart,_ _Are odious there;_ _But still, if one would meet success,_ _Of different parishes the dress_ _He, like the pie, must wear._

[Illustration: THE EAGLE AND THE MAGPIE.]

The Lion and the Hunter.

A braggart, lover of the chase, Had lost a dog of valued race, And thought him in a lion's maw. He ask'd a shepherd whom he saw, "Pray show me, man, the robber's place, And I'll have justice in the case." "'Tis on this mountain side," The shepherd man replied. "The tribute of a sheep I pay, Each month, and where I please I stray." Out leap'd the lion as he spake, And came that way with agile feet. The braggart, prompt his flight to take, Cried, "Jove, O grant a safe retreat!"

_A danger close at hand_ _Of courage is the test._ _It shows us who will stand--_ _Whose legs will run their best._

[Illustration: THE LION AND THE HUNTER.]

The Fox, the Monkey, and the Animals

Left kingless by the lion's death, The beasts once met, our story saith, Some fit successor to install. Forth from a dragon-guarded, moated place, The crown was brought, and, taken from its case, And being tried by turns on all, The heads of most were found too small; Some hornèd were, and some too big; Not one would fit the regal gear. For ever ripe for such a rig, The monkey, looking very queer, Approach'd with antics and grimaces, And, after scores of monkey faces, With what would seem a gracious stoop, Pass'd through the crown as through a hoop. The beasts, diverted with the thing, Did homage to him as their king. The fox alone the vote regretted, But yet in public never fretted. When he his compliments had paid To royalty, thus newly made, "Great sire, I know a place," said he, "Where lies conceal'd a treasure, Which, by the right of royalty, Should bide your royal pleasure." The king lack'd not an appetite For such financial pelf, And, not to lose his royal right, Ran straight to see it for himself. It was a trap, and he was caught. Said Renard, "Would you have it thought, You ape, that you can fill a throne, And guard the rights of all, alone, Not knowing how to guard your own?"

_The beasts all gather'd from the farce,_ _That stuff for kings is very scarce._

[Illustration: THE FOX, THE MONKEY, AND THE ANIMALS.]

The Sun and the Frogs.

Rejoicing on their tyrant's wedding-day, The people drown'd their care in drink; While from the general joy did Æsop shrink, And show'd its folly in this way. "The sun," said he, "once took it in his head To have a partner: so he wed. From swamps, and ponds, and marshy bogs, Up rose the wailings of the frogs. "What shall we do, should he have progeny?" Said they to Destiny; 'One sun we scarcely can endure, And half-a-dozen, we are sure, Will dry the very sea. Adieu to marsh and fen! Our race will perish then, Or be obliged to fix Their dwelling in the Styx!' For such an humble animal, The frog, I take it, reason'd well."

[Illustration: THE SUN AND THE FROGS.]

The Countryman and the Serpent.

A countryman, as Æsop certifies, A charitable man, but not so wise, One day in winter found, Stretch'd on the snowy ground, A chill'd or frozen snake, As torpid as a stake, And, if alive, devoid of sense. He took him up, and bore him home, And, thinking not what recompense For such a charity would come, Before the fire stretch'd him, And back to being fetch'd him. The snake scarce felt the genial heat Before his heart with native malice beat. He raised his head, thrust out his forkèd tongue, Coil'd up, and at his benefactor sprung. "Ungrateful wretch!" said he, "is this the way My care and kindness you repay? Now you shall die." With that his axe he takes, And with two blows three serpents makes. Trunk, head, and tail were separate snakes; And, leaping up with all their might, They vainly sought to reunite.

_'Tis good and lovely to be kind;_ _But charity should not be blind;_ _For as to wretchedness ingrate,_ _You cannot raise it from its wretched state._

[Illustration: THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE SERPENT.]

The Carter in the Mire.

The Phaëton who drove a load of hay Once found his cart bemired. Poor man! the spot was far away From human help--retired, In some rude country place, In Brittany, as near as I can trace, Near Quimper Corentan,-- A town that poet never sang,-- Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, When she would rouse the man to special wrath. May Heaven preserve us from that route! But to our carter, hale and stout:-- Fast stuck his cart; he swore his worst, And, fill'd with rage extreme, The mud-holes now he cursed, And now he cursed his team, And now his cart and load,-- Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. Upon the god he call'd at length, Most famous through the world for strength. "O, help me, Hercules!" cried he; "for if thy back of yore This burly planet bore, thy arm can set me free." This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke:-- "The suppliant must himself bestir, Ere Hercules will aid confer. Look wisely in the proper quarter, To see what hindrance can be found; Remove the execrable mud and mortar, Which, axle-deep, beset thy wheels around. Thy sledge and crowbar take, And pry me up that stone, or break; Now fill that rut upon the other side. Hast done it?" "Yes," the man replied. "Well," said the voice, "I'll aid thee now; Take up thy whip." "I have ... but, how? My cart glides on with ease! I thank thee, Hercules." "Thy team," rejoin'd the voice, "has light ado; So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too."

[Illustration: THE CARTER IN THE MIRE.]

The Heron.

One day,--no matter when or where,-- A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare By a certain river's brink, With his long, sharp beak Helved on his slender neck; 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. The water was clear and still, The carp and the pike there at will Pursued their silent fun, Turning up, ever and anon, A golden side to the sun. With ease might the heron have made Great profits in his fishing trade. So near came the scaly fry, They might be caught by the passer-by. But he thought he better might Wait for a better appetite-- For he lived by rule, and could not eat, Except at his hours, the best of meat. Anon his appetite return'd once more; So, approaching again the shore, He saw some tench taking their leaps, Now and then, from their lowest deeps. With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, He turn'd away from such food as that. "What, tench for a heron! poh! I scorn the thought, and let them go." The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; "For all that," said the bird, "I budge on. I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, For such mean little fishes as these." He did it for less; | For it came to pass, That not another fish could he see; And, at last, so hungry was he, That he thought it of some avail To find on the bank a single snail.

_Such is the sure result_ _Of being too difficult._

_Would you be strong and great_ _Learn to accommodate._

[Illustration: THE HERON.]

The Head and the Tail of the Serpent.

Two parts the serpent has-- Of men the enemies-- The head and tail: the same Have won a mighty fame, Next to the cruel Fates;-- So that, indeed, hence They once had great debates About precedence. The first had always gone ahead; The tail had been for ever led; And now to Heaven it pray'd, And said, "O, many and many a league, Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, Behind his back I go. Shall he for ever use me so? Am I his humble servant? No. Thanks to God most fervent! His brother I was born, And not his slave forlorn. The self-same blood in both, I'm just as good as he: A poison dwells in me As virulent as doth In him. In mercy, heed, And grant me this decree, That I, in turn, may lead-- My brother, follow me. My course shall be so wise, That no complaint shall rise." With cruel kindness Heaven granted The very thing he blindly wanted: At once this novel guide, That saw no more in broad daylight Than in the murk of darkest night, His powers of leading tried, Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, And led his brother straight to Styx. And to the same unlovely home, Some states by such an error come.

[Illustration: THE HEAD & THE TAIL OF THE SERPENT.]

The Dog And His Master's Dinner.

Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, Nor hands against the touch of gold. Fidelity is sadly rare, And has been from the days of old. Well taught his appetite to check, And do full many a handy trick, A dog was trotting, light and quick, His master's dinner on his neck. A temperate, self-denying dog was he, More than, with such a load, he liked to be. But still he was, while many such as we Would not have scrupled to make free. Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach! This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. To get it was less easy than he thought: The porter laid it down and fought. Meantime some other dogs arrive: Such dogs are always thick enough, And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, Upon the public thrive. Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd,-- The meat in danger manifest,-- Is fain to share it with the rest; And, looking very calm and wise, "No anger, gentlemen," he cries: "My morsel will myself suffice; The rest shall be your welcome prize." With this, the first his charge to violate, He snaps a mouthful from his freight. Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, Till all is cleanly eaten up. Not sparingly the party feasted, And not a dog of all but tasted.

_In some such manner men abuse_ _Of towns and states the revenues._ _The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor,_ _Come in for each a liberal share._

[Illustration: THE DOG AND HIS MASTER'S DINNER.]

The Joker and the Fishes.

A joker at a banker's table, Most amply spread to satisfy The height of epicurean wishes, Had nothing near but little fishes. So, taking several of the fry, He whisper'd to them very nigh, And seem'd to listen for reply. The guests much wonder'd what it meant, And stared upon him all intent. The joker, then, with sober face, Politely thus explain'd the case: "A friend of mine, to India bound, Has been, I fear, Within a year, By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. I ask'd these strangers from the sea To tell me where my friend might be. But all replied they were too young To know the least of such a matter-- The older fish could tell me better. Pray, may I hear some older tongue?" What relish had the gentlefolks For such a sample of his jokes, Is more than I can now relate. They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, A monster of so old a date, He must have known the names and fate Of all the daring voyagers, Who, following the moon and stars, Have, by mischances, sunk their bones Within the realms of Davy Jones; And who, for centuries, had seen, Far down, within the fathomless, Where whales themselves are sceptreless, The ancients in their halls of green.

[Illustration: THE JOKER AND THE FISHES.]

The Rat and the Oyster.