Fables of La Fontaine Part 17

In palaces I am a guest, And even at thy glorious feast.

Whene'er the people that adore thee May immolate for thee a bullock, I'm sure to taste the meat before thee.

Meanwhile this starveling, in her hillock, Is living on some bit of straw Which she has labour'd home to draw.

But tell me now, my little thing, Do you camp ever on a king, An emperor, or lady?

I do, and have full many a play-day On fairest bosom of the fair, And sport myself upon her hair.

Come now, my hearty, rack your brain To make a case about your grain.'

'Well, have you done?' replied the ant.

'You enter palaces, I grant, And for it get right soundly cursed.

Of sacrifices, rich and fat, Your taste, quite likely, is the first;-- Are they the better off for that?

You enter with the holy train; So enters many a wretch profane.

On heads of kings and a.s.ses you may squat; Deny your vaunting I will not; But well such impudence, I know, Provokes a sometimes fatal blow.

The name in which your vanity delights Is own'd as well by parasites, And spies that die by ropes--as you soon will By famine or by ague-chill, When Phoebus goes to cheer The other hemisphere,-- The very time to me most dear.

Not forced abroad to go Through wind, and rain, and snow, My summer's work I then enjoy, And happily my mind employ, From care by care exempted.

By which this truth I leave to you, That by two sorts of glory we are tempted, The false one and the true.

Work waits, time flies; adieu:-- This gabble does not fill My granary or till.'

[4] Phaedrus, IV. 23.

IV.--THE GARDENER AND HIS LORD.

A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town; And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed, Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed, A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme, Grew gaily, and all in their prime To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet, The grace of her bright wedding day.

For poaching in such a nice field--'twas a shame; A foraging, cud-chewing hare was to blame.

Whereof the good owner bore down This tale to the lord of the town:-- 'Some mischievous animal, morning and night, In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite.

He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and snares; For clubbing and stoning as little he cares.

I think him a wizard. A wizard! the coot!

I'd catch him if he were a devil to boot!'

The lord said, in haste to have sport for his hounds, 'I'll clear him, I warrant you, out of your grounds; To morrow I'll do it without any fail.'

The thing thus agreed on, all hearty and hale, The lord and his party, at crack of the dawn, With hounds at their heels canter'd over the lawn.

Arrived, said the lord in his jovial mood, 'We'll breakfast with you, if your chickens are good.

That la.s.s, my good man, I suppose is your daughter: No news of a son-in-law? Any one sought her?

No doubt, by the score. Keep an eye on the docket, Eh? Dost understand me? I speak of the pocket.'

So saying, the daughter he graciously greeted, And close by his lords.h.i.+p he bade her be seated; Avow'd himself pleased with so handsome a maid, And then with her kerchief familiarly play'd,-- Impertinent freedoms the virtuous fair Repell'd with a modest and lady-like air,-- So much that her father a little suspected The girl had already a lover elected.

Meanwhile in the kitchen what bustling and cooking!

'For what are your hams? They are very good looking.'

'They're kept for your lords.h.i.+p.' 'I take them,' said he; 'Such elegant flitches are welcome to me.'

He breakfasted finely his troop, with delight,-- Dogs, horses, and grooms of the best appet.i.te.

Thus he govern'd his host in the shape of a guest, Unbottled his wine, and his daughter caress'd.

To breakfast, the huddle of hunters succeeds, The yelping of dogs and the neighing of steeds, All cheering and fixing for wonderful deeds; The horns and the bugles make thundering din; Much wonders our gardener what it can mean.

The worst is, his garden most wofully fares; Adieu to its arbours, and borders, and squares; Adieu to its chiccory, onions, and leeks; Adieu to whatever good cookery seeks.

Beneath a great cabbage the hare was in bed, Was started, and shot at, and hastily fled.

Off went the wild chase, with a terrible screech, And not through a hole, but a horrible breach, Which some one had made, at the beck of the lord, Wide through the poor hedge! 'Twould have been quite absurd Should lords.h.i.+p not freely from garden go out, On horseback, attended by rabble and rout.

Scarce suffer'd the gard'ner his patience to wince, Consoling himself--'Twas the sport of a prince; While bipeds and quadrupeds served to devour, And trample, and waste, in the s.p.a.ce of an hour, Far more than a nation of foraging hares Could possibly do in a hundred of years.

Small princes, this story is true, When told in relation to you.

In settling your quarrels with kings for your tools, You prove yourselves losers and eminent fools.

V.--THE a.s.s AND THE LITTLE DOG.[5]

One's native talent from its course Cannot be turned aside by force; But poorly apes the country clown The polish'd manners of the town.

Their Maker chooses but a few With power of pleasing to imbue; Where wisely leave it we, the ma.s.s, Unlike a certain fabled a.s.s, That thought to gain his master's blessing By jumping on him and caressing.

'What!' said the donkey in his heart; 'Ought it to be that puppy's part To lead his useless life In full companions.h.i.+p With master and his wife, While I must bear the whip?

What doth the cur a kiss to draw?

Forsooth, he only gives his paw!

If that is all there needs to please, I'll do the thing myself, with ease.'

Possess'd with this bright notion,-- His master sitting on his chair, At leisure in the open air,-- He ambled up, with awkward motion, And put his talents to the proof; Upraised his bruised and batter'd hoof, And, with an amiable mien, His master patted on the chin, The action gracing with a word-- The fondest bray that e'er was heard!

O, such caressing was there ever?

Or melody with such a quaver?

'Ho! Martin![6] here! a club, a club bring!'

Out cried the master, sore offended.

So Martin gave the a.s.s a drubbing,-- And so the comedy was ended.

[5] Aesop.

[6] _Martin_.--La Fontaine has "Martin-baton," a name for a groom or ostler armed with his cudgel of office, taken from Rabelais.

VI.--THE BATTLE OF THE RATS AND THE WEASELS.[7]

The weasels live, no more than cats, On terms of friends.h.i.+p with the rats; And, were it not that these Through doors contrive to squeeze Too narrow for their foes, The animals long-snouted Would long ago have routed, And from the planet scouted Their race, as I suppose.

One year it did betide, When they were multiplied, An army took the field Of rats, with spear and s.h.i.+eld, Whose crowded ranks led on A king named Ratapon.

The weasels, too, their banner Unfurl'd in warlike manner.

As Fame her trumpet sounds, The victory balanced well; Enrich'd were fallow grounds Where slaughter'd legions fell; But by said trollop's tattle, The loss of life in battle Thinn'd most the rattish race In almost every place; And finally their rout Was total, spite of stout Artarpax and Psicarpax, And valiant Meridarpax,[8]

Who, cover'd o'er with dust, Long time sustain'd their host Down sinking on the plain.

Their efforts were in vain; Fate ruled that final hour, (Inexorable power!) And so the captains fled As well as those they led; The princes perish'd all.

The undistinguish'd small In certain holes found shelter, In crowding, helter-skelter; But the n.o.bility Could not go in so free, Who proudly had a.s.sumed Each one a helmet plumed; We know not, truly, whether For honour's sake the feather, Or foes to strike with terror; But, truly, 'twas their error.

Nor hole, nor crack, nor crevice Will let their head-gear in; While meaner rats in bevies An easy pa.s.sage win;-- So that the shafts of fate Do chiefly hit the great.

A feather in the cap Is oft a great mishap.

An equipage too grand Comes often to a stand Within a narrow place.

The small, whate'er the case, With ease slip through a strait, Where larger folks must wait.

[7] Phaedrus, Book IV. 6.

[8] Names of rats, invented by Homer.--Translator.

VII.--THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN.[9]

It was the custom of the Greeks For pa.s.sengers o'er sea to carry Both monkeys full of tricks And funny dogs to make them merry.