Favourite Fables in Prose and Verse Part 14

She starts, she stops, she pants for breath; She hears the near approach of death; She doubles, to mislead the hound, And measures back her mazy round; Till, fainting in the public way, Half dead with fear, she gasping lay:-- What transport in her bosom grew, When first the Horse appeared in view!

"Let me," says she, "your back ascend, And owe my safety to a friend; You know my feet betray my flight; To friends.h.i.+p, ev'ry burthen's light."

The Horse replied,--"Poor, honest Puss!

It grieves my heart to see thee thus: Be comforted,--relief is near; For all our friends are in the rear."

She next the stately Bull implored, And thus replied the mighty lord:-- "Since every beast alive can tell, That I sincerely wish you well, I may, without offence, pretend To take the freedom of a friend.

Love calls me hence; a favourite cow Expects me near yon barley-mow; And when a lady's in the case, You know, all other things give place.

To leave you thus may seem unkind; But see,--the Goat is just behind."

The Goat remarked her pulse was high; Her languid head, her heavy eye; "My back," says she, "may do you harm; The Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm."

The Sheep was feeble, and complained, His sides a load of wool sustained; Said he was slow; confessed his fears; For Hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.

She now the trotting Calf addressed, To save from death a friend distressed.

"Shall I," says he, "of tender age, In this important care engage?

Older and abler pa.s.s you by; How strong are those! how weak am I!

Should I presume to bear you hence, Those friends of mine may take offence.

Excuse me, then,--you know my heart; But dearest friends, alas! must part.

How shall we all lament!--Adieu!

For see, the Hounds are just in view."

MORAL.

Friends.h.i.+ps are single: who depend On many rarely find a friend.

FABLE LXXII.

THE c.o.c.k AND THE FOX.

A c.o.c.k, being perched among the branches of a lofty tree, crowed aloud, so that the shrillness of his voice echoed through the wood and invited a Fox to the place, who was prowling in that neighbourhood in quest of his prey. But Reynard, finding the c.o.c.k was inaccessible by reason of the height of his situation, had recourse to stratagem in order to decoy him down. So, approaching the tree, "Cousin," says he, "I am heartily glad to see you; but at the same time I cannot forbear expressing my uneasiness at the inconvenience of the place, which will not let me pay my respects to you in a handsomer manner; though I suppose you will come down presently, and thus the difficulty will be easily removed."

"Indeed, cousin," says the c.o.c.k, "to tell you the truth, I do not think it safe to venture upon the ground; for though I am convinced how much you are my friend, yet I may have the misfortune to fall into the clutches of some other beasts, and what will become of me then?" "Oh, dear!" says Reynard, "is it possible that you can be so ignorant, as not to know of the peace which has been lately proclaimed between all kinds of birds and beasts; and that we are for the future to forbear hostilities on all sides, and to live in the utmost love and harmony, and this, under the penalty of suffering the severest punishment that can be inflicted?" All this while the c.o.c.k seemed to give little attention to what was said, but stretched out his neck, as if he saw something at a distance.

"Cousin," says the Fox, "what is it that you look at so earnestly?" "Why," says the c.o.c.k, "I think I see a pack of hounds yonder, a little way off." "Oh, then," says the Fox, "your humble servant, I must begone." "Nay, pray cousin, do not go," says the c.o.c.k, "I am just coming down; surely you are not afraid of Dogs in these peaceable times?" "No, no," says he, "but ten to one whether they have heard of the proclamation yet."

MORAL.

When rogues are met in their own strain, they are generally worsted. It is interesting to see the snares of the wicked defeated by the discreet management of the innocent. "Answer a fool according to his folly," is an old maxim.

FABLE LXXIII.

THE LION AND THE MOUSE.

A LION, faint with heat and weary with hunting, was lying down to take his repose under the spreading boughs of a thick shady oak.

It happened that while he slept, a company of scrambling mice ran over his back, and waked him; upon which, starting up, he clapped his paw upon one of them, and was just going to put it to death, when the little supplicant implored his mercy in a very moving manner, begging him not to stain his n.o.ble character with the blood of so despicable and small a beast.

The Lion, considering the matter, thought proper to do as he was desired, and immediately released his little trembling prisoner.

Not long after, while traversing the forest in pursuit of his prey, he chanced to run into the toils of the hunters, from whence, not being able to disengage himself, he set up a most hideous and loud roar.

The Mouse, hearing a voice, and knowing it to be the Lion's, immediately repaired to the place, and bid him fear nothing, for that he was his friend. Then straight he fell to work, and with his sharp little teeth gnawing asunder the knots and fastenings of the toils, set the royal brute at liberty.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE LION AND THE MOUSE.]

MORAL.

There is none so little, but that even the greatest may at some time or other stand in need of his a.s.sistance.

FABLE LXXIV.

THE TRUMPETER TAKEN PRISONER.

A TRUMPETER, being taken prisoner in a battle, begged hard for quarter, declaring his innocence, and protesting that he neither had nor could kill any man, bearing no arms but only a trumpet, which he was obliged to sound at the word of command. "For that reason," replied his enemies, "we are determined not to spare you; for though you yourself never fight, yet with that wicked instrument of yours, you blow up animosity between other people, and so become the occasion of much bloodshed."

MORAL.

The hand may rest quiet by the side, and yet the tongue be the means of doing more injury than a thousand hands.

FABLE LXXV.

THE MOUSE AND THE ELEPHANT.

A PERT young Mouse, but just arrived From Athens, where some time he'd lived; And daily to the portico, To pick up learning, used to go; Vain of the wisdom he had stored, And of the books he had devoured; Puffed up with pride and self-conceit, And proud to show his little wit, Thus to an Elephant, one day, He took it in his head to say:--

"Nay, not so pompous in your gait, Because Dame Nature made you great; I tell you, sir, your mighty size Is of no value in my eyes;-- Your magnitude, I have a notion, Is quite unfit for locomotion; When journeying far, you often prove How sluggishly your feet can move.

Now, look at me: I'm made to fly; Behold, with what rapidity I skip about from place to place, And still unwearied with the race; But you--how lazily you creep, And stop to breathe at every step!

Whenever I your bulk survey, I pity--" What he meant to say, Or with what kind of peroration He'd have concluded his oration, I cannot tell; for, all at once, There pounced upon the learned dunce An ambushed Cat; who, very soon, Experimentally made known, That between Mice and Elephants There is a mighty difference.