Part 5

A pine was by a woodman fell'd, Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree An owl had for his palace held-- A bird the Fates had kept in fee, Interpreter to such as we. Within the caverns of the pine, With other tenants of that mine, Were found full many footless mice, But well provision'd, fat, and nice. The bird had bit off all their feet, And fed them there with heaps of wheat. That this owl reason'd, who can doubt? When to the chase he first went out, And home alive the vermin brought, Which in his talons he had caught, The nimble creatures ran away. Next time, resolved to make them stay, He cropp'd their legs, and found, with pleasure, That he could eat them at his leisure; It were impossible to eat Them all at once, did health permit. His foresight, equal to our own, In furnishing their food was shown. Now, let Cartesians, if they can, Pronounce this owl a mere machine. Could springs originate the plan Of maiming mice when taken lean, To fatten for his soup-tureen? If reason did no service there, I do not know it anywhere. Observe the course of argument: These vermin are no sooner caught than gone: They must be used as soon, 'tis evident; But this to all cannot be done. Hence, while their ribs I lard, I must from their elopement guard. But how?--A plan complete!-- I'll clip them of their feet! Now, find me, in your human schools, A better use of logic's tools!

[Illustration: THE MICE AND THE OWL.]

The Cat and the Two Sparrows.

Contemporary with a sparrow tame There lived a cat; from tenderest age, Of both, the basket and the cage Had household gods the same. The bird's sharp beak full oft provoked the cat, Who play'd in turn, but with a gentle pat, His wee friend sparing with a merry laugh, Not punishing his faults by half. In short, he scrupled much the harm, Should he with points his ferule arm. The Sparrow, less discreet than he, With dagger beak made very free. Sir Cat, a person wise and staid, Excused the warmth with which he play'd: For 'tis full half of friendship's art To take no joke in serious part. Familiar since they saw the light, Mere habit kept their friendship good; Fair play had never turn'd to fight, Till, of their neighbourhood, Another sparrow came to greet Old Ratto grave and Saucy Pete. Between the birds a quarrel rose, And Ratto took his side. "A pretty stranger, with such blows To beat our friend!" he cried. "A neighbour's sparrow eating ours! Not so, by all the feline powers." And quick the stranger he devours. "Now, truly," saith Sir Cat, "I know how sparrows taste by that. Exquisite, tender, delicate!" This thought soon seal'd the other's fate.-- But hence what moral can I bring? For, lacking that important thing, A fable lacks its finishing: I seem to see of one some trace, But still its shadow mocks my chase.

[Illustration: THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.]

The Two Goats.

Two goats, who self-emancipated,-- The white that on their feet they wore Look'd back to noble blood of yore,-- Once quit the lowly meadows, sated, And sought the hills, as it would seem: In search of luck, by luck they met Each other at a mountain stream. As bridge a narrow plank was set, On which, if truth must be confest, Two weasels scarce could go abreast. And then the torrent, foaming white, As down it tumbled from the height, Might well those Amazons affright. But maugre such a fearful rapid, Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid! I seem to see our Louis Grand And Philip IV. advance To the Isle of Conference, That lies 'twixt Spain and France, Each sturdy for his glorious land. Thus each of our adventurers goes, Till foot to foot, and nose to nose, Somewhere about the midst they meet, And neither will an inch retreat. For why? they both enjoy'd the glory Of ancestors in ancient story. The one, a goat of peerless rank, Which, browsing on Sicilian bank, The Cyclop gave to Galatæa; The other famous Amalthæa, The goat that suckled Jupiter, As some historians aver. For want of giving back, in troth, A common fall involved them both.-- A common accident, no doubt, On Fortune's changeful route.

[Illustration: THE TWO GOATS.]

The Old Cat and the Young Mouse.

A young and inexperienced mouse Had faith to try a veteran cat,-- Raminagrobis, death to rat, And scourge of vermin through the house,-- Appealing to his clemency With reasons sound and fair. "Pray let me live; a mouse like me It were not much to spare. Am I, in such a family, A burden? Would my largest wish Our wealthy host impoverish? A grain of wheat will make my meal; A nut will fat me like a seal. I'm lean at present; please to wait, And for your heirs reserve my fate." The captive mouse thus spake. Replied the captor, "You mistake; To me shall such a thing be said? Address the deaf! address the dead! A cat to pardon!--old one too! Why, such a thing I never knew. Thou victim of my paw, By well-establish'd law, Die as a mousling should, And beg the sisterhood Who ply the thread and shears, To lend thy speech their ears. Some other like repast My heirs may find, or fast."

He ceased. The moral's plain. _Youth always hopes its ends to gain,_ _Believes all spirits like its own:_ _Old age is not to mercy prone._

[Illustration: THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.]

The Sick Stag

A stag, where stags abounded, Fell sick and was surrounded Forthwith by comrades kind, All pressing to assist, Or see, their friend, at least, And ease his anxious mind-- An irksome multitude. "Ah, sirs!" the sick was fain to cry, "Pray leave me here to die, As others do, in solitude. Pray, let your kind attentions cease, Till death my spirit shall release." But comforters are not so sent: On duty sad full long intent, When Heaven pleased, they went: But not without a friendly glass; That is to say, they cropp'd the grass And leaves which in that quarter grew, From which the sick his pittance drew. By kindness thus compell'd to fast, He died for want of food at last.

_The men take off no trifling dole_ _Who heal the body, or the soul._ _Alas the times! do what we will,_ _They have their payment, cure or kill._

[Illustration: THE SICK STAG.]

The Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats.

In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes; Decrees, promulged in manner solemn, Had pacified their ancient feuds. Their lord had so arranged their meals and labours, And threaten'd quarrels with the whip, That, living in sweet cousinship, They edified their wondering neighbours. At last, some dainty plate to lick, Or profitable bone to pick, Bestow'd by some partiality, Broke up the smooth equality. The side neglected were indignant At such a slight malignant. From words to blows the altercation Soon grew a perfect conflagration. In hall and kitchen, dog and cat Took sides with zeal for this or that. New rules upon the cat side falling Produced tremendous caterwauling. Their advocate, against such rules as these, Advised recurrence to the old decrees. They search'd in vain, for, hidden in a nook, The thievish mice had eaten up the book. Another quarrel, in a trice, Made many sufferers with the mice; For many a veteran whisker'd-face, With craft and cunning richly stored, And grudges old against the race, Now watch'd to put them to the sword; Nor mourn'd for this that mansion's lord.

_Look wheresoever we will, we see_ _No creature from opponents free._ _'Tis nature's law for earth and sky;_ _'Twere vain to ask the reason why:_ _God's works are good,--I cannot doubt it,--_ _And that is all I know about it._

[Illustration: THE QUARREL OF THE DOGS AND CATS.]

The Wolf and the Fox.

"Dear wolf," complain'd a hungry fox, "A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, Is all I get by toil or trick: Of such a living I am sick. With far less risk, you've better cheer; A house you need not venture near, But I must do it, spite of fear. Pray, make me master of your trade. And let me by that means be made The first of all my race that took Fat mutton to his larder's hook: Your kindness shall not be repented." The wolf quite readily consented. "I have a brother, lately dead: Go fit his skin to yours," he said. 'Twas done; and then the wolf proceeded: "Now mark you well what must be done, The dogs that guard the flock to shun." The fox the lessons strictly heeded. At first he boggled in his dress; But awkwardness grew less and less, Till perseverance gave success. His education scarce complete, A flock, his scholarship to greet, Came rambling out that way. The new-made wolf his work began, Amidst the heedless nibblers ran, And spread a sore dismay. The bleating host now surely thought That fifty wolves were on the spot: Dog, shepherd, sheep, all homeward fled, And left a single sheep in pawn, Which Renard seized when they were gone. But, ere upon his prize he fed, There crow'd a cock near by, and down The scholar threw his prey and gown, That he might run that way the faster-- Forgetting lessons, prize and master.

_Reality, in every station,_ _Will burst out on the first occasion._

[Illustration: THE WOLF AND THE FOX.]

The Lobster and her Daughter.

The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, To gain their ends back foremost go. It is the rower's art; and those Commanders who mislead their foes, Do often seem to aim their sight Just where they don't intend to smite. My theme, so low, may yet apply To one whose fame is very high, Who finds it not the hardest matter A hundred-headed league to scatter. What he will do, what leave undone, Are secrets with unbroken seals, Till victory the truth reveals. Whatever he would have unknown Is sought in vain. Decrees of Fate Forbid to check, at first, the course Which sweeps at last the torrent force. One Jove, as ancient fables state, Exceeds a hundred gods in weight. So Fate and Louis would seem able The universe to draw, Bound captive to their law.-- But come we to our fable. A mother lobster did her daughter chide: "For shame, my daughter! can't you go ahead?" "And how go you yourself?" the child replied; "Can I be but by your example led? Head foremost should I, singularly, wend, While all my race pursue the other end." She spoke with sense: for better or for worse, Example has a universal force. To some it opens wisdom's door, But leads to folly many more. Yet, as for backing to one's aim, When properly pursued The art is doubtless good, At least in grim Bellona's game.

[Illustration: THE LOBSTER AND HER DAUGHTER.]

The Ploughman and his Sons.

_The farmer's patient care and toil Are oftener wanting than the soil._

A wealthy ploughman drawing near his end, Call'd in his sons apart from every friend, And said, "When of your sire bereft, The heritage our fathers left Guard well, nor sell a single field. A treasure in it is conceal'd: The place, precisely, I don't know, But industry will serve to show. The harvest past, Time's forelock take, And search with plough, and spade, and rake; Turn over every inch of sod, Nor leave unsearch'd a single clod." The father died. The sons--and not in vain-- Turn'd o'er the soil, and o'er again; That year their acres bore More grain than e'er before. Though hidden money found they none, Yet had their father wisely done, To show by such a measure, That toil itself is treasure.

[Illustration: THE PLOUGHMAN AND HIS SONS.]

The Ass Dressed in the Lion's Skin.

Clad in a lion's shaggy hide, An ass spread terror far and wide, And, though himself a coward brute, Put all the world to scampering rout: But, by a piece of evil luck, A portion of an ear outstuck, Which soon reveal'd the error Of all the panic terror. Old Martin did his office quick. Surprised were all who did not know the trick, To see that Martin, at his will, Was driving lions to the mill!

_In France, the men are not a few_ _Of whom this fable proves too true;_ _Whose valour chiefly doth reside_ _In coat they wear and horse they ride._

[Illustration: THE ASS DRESSED IN THE LION'S SKIN.]

The Woods and the Woodman.

A certain wood-chopper lost or broke From his axe's eye a bit of oak. The forest must needs be somewhat spared While such a loss was being repair'd. Came the man at last, and humbly pray'd That the woods would kindly lend to him-- A moderate loan--a single limb, Whereof might another helve be made, And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. O, the oaks and firs that then might stand, A pride and a joy throughout the land, For their ancientness and glorious charms! The innocent Forest lent him arms; But bitter indeed was her regret; For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, Did nought but his benefactress spoil Of the finest trees that graced her soil; And ceaselessly was she made to groan, Doing penance for that fatal loan.

_Behold the world-stage and its actors,_ _Where benefits hurt benefactors!--_ _A weary theme, and full of pain;_ _For where's the shade so cool and sweet,_ _Protecting strangers from the heat,_ _But might of such a wrong complain?_ _Alas! I vex myself in vain;_ _Ingratitude, do what I will,_ _Is sure to be the fashion still._

[Illustration: THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN.]

The Fox, the Wolf, and the horse.

A fox, though young, by no means raw, Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw: "Ho! neighbour wolf," said he to one quite green, "A creature in our meadow I have seen,-- Sleek, grand! I seem to see him yet,-- The finest beast I ever met." "Is he a stouter one than we?" The wolf demanded, eagerly; "Some picture of him let me see." "If I could paint," said fox, "I should delight T' anticipate your pleasure at the sight; But come; who knows? perhaps it is a prey By fortune offer'd in our way." They went. The horse, turn'd loose to graze, Not liking much their looks and ways, Was just about to gallop off. "Sir," said the fox, "your humble servants, we Make bold to ask you what your name may be." The horse, an animal with brains enough, Replied, "Sirs, you yourselves may read my name; My shoer round my heel hath writ the same." The fox excus'd himself for want of knowledge: "Me, sir, my parents did not educate,-- So poor, a hole was their entire estate. My friend, the wolf, however, taught at college, Could read it were it even Greek." The wolf, to flattery weak, Approach'd to verify the boast; For which four teeth he lost. The high raised hoof came down with such a blow, As laid him bleeding on the ground full low. "My brother," said the fox, "this shows how just What once was taught me by a fox of wit,-- Which on thy jaws this animal hath writ,-- 'All unknown things the wise mistrust.'"

[Illustration: THE FOX THE WOLF AND THE HORSE.]

The Fox and the Turkeys.

Against a robber fox, a tree Some turkeys served as citadel. That villain, much provoked to see Each standing there as sentinel, Cried out, "Such witless birds At me stretch out their necks, and gobble! No, by the powers! I'll give them trouble." He verified his words. The moon, that shined full on the oak, Seem'd then to help the turkey folk. But fox, in arts of siege well versed, Ransack'd his bag of tricks accursed. He feign'd himself about to climb; Walk'd on his hinder legs sublime; Then death most aptly counterfeited, And seem'd anon resuscitated. A practiser of wizard arts Could not have fill'd so many parts. In moonlight he contrived to raise His tail, and make it seem a blaze: And countless other tricks like that. Meanwhile, no turkey slept or sat. Their constant vigilance at length, As hoped the fox, wore out their strength. Bewilder'd by the rigs he run, They lost their balance one by one. As Renard slew, he laid aside, Till nearly half of them had died; Then proudly to his larder bore, And laid them up, an ample store.

_A foe, by being over-heeded,_ _Has often in his plan succeeded._

[Illustration: THE FOX AND THE TURKEYS.]

The Wallet.

From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, "Let all that live before my throne appear, And there if any one hath aught to blame, In matter, form, or texture of his frame, He may bring forth his grievance without fear. Redress shall instantly be given to each. Come, monkey, now, first let us have your speech. You see these quadrupeds, your brothers; Comparing, then, yourself with others, Are you well satisfied?" "And wherefore not?" Says Jock. "Haven't I four trotters with the rest? Is not my visage comely as the best? But this my brother Bruin, is a blot On thy creation fair; And sooner than be painted I'd be shot, Were I, great sire, a bear." The bear approaching, doth he make complaint? Not he;--himself he lauds without restraint. The elephant he needs must criticise; To crop his ears and stretch his tail were wise; A creature he of huge, misshapen size. The elephant, though famed as beast judicious, While on his own account he had no wishes, Pronounced dame whale too big to suit his taste; Of flesh and fat she was a perfect waste. The little ant, again, pronounced the gnat too wee; To such a speck, a vast colossus she. Each censured by the rest, himself content, Back to their homes all living things were sent.

_Such folly liveth yet with human fools._ _For others lynxes, for ourselves but moles._ _Great blemishes in other men we spy,_ _Which in ourselves we pass most kindly by._ _As in this world we're but way-farers,_ _Kind Heaven has made us wallet-bearers._ _The pouch behind our own defects must store,_ _The faults of others lodge in that before._

[Illustration: THE WALLET.]

The Woodman and Mercury.

A man that labour'd in the wood Had lost his honest livelihood; That is to say, His axe was gone astray. He had no tools to spare; This wholly earn'd his fare. Without a hope beside, He sat him down and cried, "Alas, my axe! where can it be? O Jove! but send it back to me, And it shall strike good blows for thee." His prayer in high Olympus heard, Swift Mercury started at the word. "Your axe must not be lost," said he: "Now, will you know it when you see? An axe I found upon the road." With that an axe of gold he show'd. "Is't this?" The woodman answer'd, "Nay." An axe of silver, bright and gay, Refused the honest woodman too. At last the finder brought to view An axe of iron, steel, and wood. "That's mine," he said, in joyful mood; "With that I'll quite contented be." The god replied, "I give the three, As due reward of honesty." This luck when neighbouring choppers knew, They lost their axes, not a few, And sent their prayers to Jupiter So fast, he knew not which to hear. His winged son, however, sent With gold and silver axes, went. Each would have thought himself a fool Not to have own'd the richest tool. But Mercury promptly gave, instead Of it, a blow upon the head.

_With simple truth to be contented,_ _Is surest not to be repented;_ _But still there are who would_ _With evil trap the good,--_ _Whose cunning is but stupid,_ _For Jove is never dupéd._

[Illustration: THE WOODMAN AND MERCURY.]

The Lion and the Monkey.

The lion, for his kingdom's sake, In morals would some lessons take, And therefore call'd, one summer's day, The monkey, master of the arts, An animal of brilliant parts, To hear what he could say. "Great king," the monkey thus began, "To reign upon the wisest plan Requires a prince to set his zeal, And passion for the public weal, Distinctly and quite high above A certain feeling call'd self-love, The parent of all vices, In creatures of all sizes. To will this feeling from one's breast away, Is not the easy labour of a day; By that your majesty august, Will execute your royal trust, From folly free and aught unjust." "Give me," replied the king, "Example of each thing." "Each species," said the sage,-- "And I begin with ours,-- Exalts its own peculiar powers Above sound reason's gauge. Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes As fools and blockheads it describes, With other compliments as cheap. But, on the other hand, the same Self-love inspires a beast to heap The highest pyramid of fame For every one that bears his name; Because he justly deems such praise The easiest way himself to raise. 'Tis my conclusion in the case, That many a talent here below Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,-- The art of seeming things to know-- An art in which perfection lies More with the ignorant than wise."

[Illustration: THE LION AND THE MONKEY]

The Shepherd and the Lion.

The Fable Æsop tells is nearly this:-- A shepherd from his flock began to miss, And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep. Before a cavern, dark and deep, Where wolves retired by day to sleep, Which he suspected as the thieves, He set his trap among the leaves; And, ere he left the place, He thus invoked celestial grace:-- "O king of all the powers divine, Against the rogue but grant me this delight, That this my trap may catch him in my sight, And I, from twenty calves of mine, Will make the fattest thine." But while the words were on his tongue, Forth came a lion great and strong. Down crouch'd the man of sheep, and said, With shivering fright half dead, "Alas! that man should never be aware Of what may be the meaning of his prayer! To catch the robber of my flocks, O king of gods, I pledged a calf to thee: If from his clutches thou wilt rescue me, I'll raise my offering to an ox."

[Illustration: THE SHEPHERD AND THE LION.]

The Horse and the Wolf.