Fables of La Fontaine Part 9

No more permitted on the gra.s.s to feed, He'll forage through our marsh, on rush and reed; And while he eats or chews the cud, Will trample on us in the mud.

Alas! to think how frogs must suffer By means of this proud lady heifer!'

This fear was not without good sense.

One bull was beat, and much to their expense; For, quick retreating to their reedy bower, He trod on twenty of them in an hour.

Of little folks it oft has been the fate To suffer for the follies of the great.

[9] Phaedrus, I. 30.

V.--THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.[10]

A blundering bat once stuck her head Into a wakeful weasel's bed; Whereat the mistress of the house, A deadly foe of rats and mice, Was making ready in a trice To eat the stranger as a mouse.

'What! do you dare,' she said, 'to creep in The very bed I sometimes sleep in, Now, after all the provocation I've suffer'd from your thievish nation?

Are you not really a mouse, That gnawing pest of every house, Your special aim to do the cheese ill?

Ay, that you are, or I'm no weasel.'

'I beg your pardon,' said the bat; 'My kind is very far from that.

What! I a mouse! Who told you such a lie?

Why, ma'am, I am a bird; And, if you doubt my word, Just see the wings with which I fly.

Long live the mice that cleave the sky!'

These reasons had so fair a show, The weasel let the creature go.

By some strange fancy led, The same wise blunderhead, But two or three days later, Had chosen for her rest Another weasel's nest, This last, of birds a special hater.

New peril brought this step absurd; Without a moment's thought or puzzle, Dame weasel oped her peaked muzzle To eat th' intruder as a bird.

'Hold! do not wrong me,' cried the bat; 'I'm truly no such thing as that.

Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers.

What makes a bird, I pray? Its feathers.

I'm cousin of the mice and rats.

Great Jupiter confound the cats!'

The bat, by such adroit replying, Twice saved herself from dying.

And many a human stranger Thus turns his coat in danger; And sings, as suits, where'er he goes, 'G.o.d save the king!'--or 'save his foes!'[11]

[10] Aesop.

[11] _Or save his foes!_--La Fontaine's last line is--"Vive le roi!

Vive la ligue!" conveying an allusion to the "Holy League" of the French Catholic party, which, under the Guises, brought about the war with Henry III. and the Huguenots, which ended, for a time, in the edict of Nantes, promulgated by Henry IV. in 1598.

VI.--THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.[12]

A bird, with plumed arrow shot, In dying case deplored her lot: 'Alas!' she cried, 'the anguish of the thought!

This ruin partly by myself was brought!

Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow What wings to us the fatal arrow!

But mock us not, ye cruel race, For you must often take our place.'

The work of half the human brothers Is making arms against the others.

[12] Aesop.

VII.--THE b.i.t.c.h AND HER FRIEND.[13]

A b.i.t.c.h, that felt her time approaching, And had no place for parturition, Went to a female friend, and, broaching Her delicate condition, Got leave herself to shut Within the other's hut.

At proper time the lender came Her little premises to claim.

The b.i.t.c.h crawl'd meekly to the door, And humbly begg'd a fortnight more.

Her little pups, she said, could hardly walk.

In short, the lender yielded to her talk.

The second term expired; the friend had come To take possession of her house and home.

The b.i.t.c.h, this time, as if she would have bit her, Replied, 'I'm ready, madam, with my litter, To go when you can turn me out.'

Her pups, you see, were fierce and stout.

The creditor, from whom a villain borrows, Will fewer s.h.i.+llings get again than sorrows.

If you have trusted people of this sort, You'll have to plead, and dun, and fight; in short, If in your house you let one step a foot, He'll surely step the other in to boot.

[13] Phaedrus, I. 19. See the Translator's Preface.

VIII.--THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE.[14]

John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, Was making for his hole in haste, When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow.

I leave you all to think If such a little c.h.i.n.k Could to a rabbit give protection thorough.

But, since no better could be got, John Rabbit there was fain to squat.

Of course, in an asylum so absurd, John felt ere long the talons of the bird.

But first, the beetle, interceding, cried, 'Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied, That, maugre my protection, you can bear My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air.

But do not give me such affront, I pray; And since he craves your grace, In pity of his case, Grant him his life, or take us both away; For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.'

In vain the beetle's friendly labour; The eagle clutch'd her prey without reply, And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, Struck down our orator and still'd him; The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him.

The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak, Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest.

And while the bird was gone, Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, Not sparing one.

Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky.

But, by excess of pa.s.sion blind, Her enemy she fail'd to find.

Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate To live a mourning mother, desolate.

The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again.

John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew.

The second mourning for her murder'd brood Was such, that through the giant mountain wood, For six long months, the sleepless echo flew.

The bird, once Ganymede, now made Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; And, laying them within his G.o.ds.h.i.+p's lap, She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap; The G.o.d his own could not but make them-- No wretch, would venture there to break them.

And no one did. Their enemy, this time, Upsoaring to a place sublime, Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither.

When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event Occurr'd by purest accident, The eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her; She gave out threats of leaving court, To make the desert her resort, And other brav'ries of this sort.

Poor Jupiter in silence heard The uproar of his favourite bird.

Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd.

The G.o.d p.r.o.nounced the eagle in the wrong.

But still, their hatred was so old and strong, These enemies could not be reconciled; And, that the general peace might not be spoil'd,-- The best that he could do,--the G.o.d arranged, That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed, To come when beetle folks are only found Conceal'd and dormant under ground.