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On this a Rat not quite so blind In state intrigues as human kind, But of more honour, thus replied: "Confound ye all on either side; All your contentions are but these, Whose arts shall best secure the Cheese."
ANONYMOUS
The Drop of Rain
A little particle of rain That from a pa.s.sing cloud descended: Was heard thus idly to complain: "My brief existence now is ended!
Outcast alike of earth and sky, Useless to live, unknown to die!"
It chanced to fall into the sea, And there an open sh.e.l.l received it; And after years how rich was he Who from its prison-house released it!
The drop of rain had formed a gem To deck a monarch's diadem.
ANONYMOUS
The Lion and the Echo
A Lion bravest of the wood, Whose t.i.tle undisputed stood, As o'er the wide domains he prowled, And in pursuit of booty growled, An Echo from a distant cave Re-growled articulately grave.
His Majesty, surprised, began To think at first it was a man; But, on reflection sage, he found It was too like a lion's sound.
"Whose voice is that which growls at mine?"
His Highness asked. Says Echo, "Mine!"
"Thine," says the Lion; "who art thou?"
Echo as stern cried, "Who art thou?"
"Know I'm a lion, hear and tremble!"
Replied the king. Cried Echo, "Tremble!"
"Come forth," says Lion, "show thyself!"
Laconic Echo answered, "Elf!"
"Elf dost thou call me, vile pretender?"
Echo as loud replied, "Pretender?"
At this, as jealous of his reign, He growled in rage--she growled again.
Incensed the more, he chafed and foamed, And round the s.p.a.cious forest roamed, To find the rival of his throne, Who durst with him dispute the crown.
A Fox, who listened all the while, Addressed the monarch with a smile: "My liege, most humbly I make bold, Though truth may not be always told, That this same phantom that you hear, That so alarms your royal ear, Is not a rival of your throne-- The voice and fears are all your own."
Imaginary terrors scare A timorous soul with real fear!
Nay, e'en the wise and brave are cowed By apprehensions from the crowd;
A frog a lion may disarm, And yet how causeless the alarm!
ANONYMOUS
Here check we our career; Long books I greatly fear; I would not quite exhaust my stuff; The flower of subjects is enough.
JEAN DE LA FONTAINE
THE END
