Favourite Fables in Prose and Verse Part 4

Jove, like a tender master, fond to save, His weakness pityed, and his fault forgave.

MORAL.

He, who presumes the ways of heaven to scan, Is not a wise, nor yet a happy man: In this firm truth securely we may rest,-- Whatever Providence ordains is best; Had man the power, he'd work his own undoing; To grant his will would be to cause his ruin.

FABLE XXIII.

THE VAIN JACKDAW.

A CERTAIN Jackdaw was so proud and ambitious that, not contented to live within his own sphere, he picked up the feathers which fell from the Peac.o.c.ks, stuck them among his own, and very confidently introduced himself into an a.s.sembly of those beautiful birds. They soon found him out, stripped him of his borrowed plumes, and falling upon him with their sharp bills, punished him as his presumption deserved.

Upon this, full of grief and affliction, he returned to his old companions, and would have flocked with them again; but they, knowing his late life and conversation, industriously avoided him, and refused to admit him into their company; and one of them, at the same time, gave him this serious reproof: "If, friend, you could have been contented with your station, and had not disdained the rank in which nature had placed you, you had not been used so scurvily by those amongst whom you introduced yourself, nor suffered the notorious slight which we now think ourselves obliged to put upon you."

MORAL.

Great evils arise from vanity; for when we try to place ourselves in a position for which we are not fit, we are liable to be laughed at, and, when we would return to our former state, we find we have lost the esteem of our former friends.

FABLE XXIV.

THE VIPER AND THE FILE.

A VIPER, crawling into a smith's shop to seek for something to eat, cast her eyes upon a File, and darting upon it in a moment, "Now I have you," said she, "and so you may help yourself how you can; but you may take my word for it that I shall make a fine meal of you before I think of parting with you." "Silly wretch!"

said the File, as gruff as could be, "you had much better be quiet, and let me alone; for, if you gnaw for ever, you will get nothing but your trouble for your pains. Make a meal of me, indeed! why, I myself can bite the hardest iron in the shop; and if you go on with your foolish nibbling I shall tear all the teeth out of your spiteful head before you know where you are."

MORAL.

Take care that you never strive with those who are too strong for you, nor do spiteful things, lest you suffer for it.

FABLE XXV.

THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.

One hot, sultry day, a Wolf and a Lamb happened to come just at the same time to quench their thirst in the stream of a clear, silver brook, that ran tumbling down the side of a rocky mountain. The Wolf stood upon the higher ground, and the Lamb at some distance from him down the current. However, the Wolf, having a mind to pick a quarrel with him, asked him what he meant by disturbing the water, and making it so muddy that he could not drink, and at the same time demanded satisfaction. The Lamb, frightened at this threatening charge, told him, in a tone as mild as possible, that, with humble submission, he could not conceive how that could be, since the water which he drank ran down from the Wolf to him, and therefore it could not be disturbed so far up the stream. "Be that as it will," replies the Wolf, "you are a rascal; and I have been told that you treated me with ill-language behind my back about half a year ago." "Upon my word," says the Lamb, "the time you mention was before I was born." The Wolf finding it to no purpose to argue any longer against truth, fell into a great pa.s.sion, snarling and foaming at the mouth, as if he had been mad; and, drawing nearer to the Lamb, "Sirrah," said he, "if it was not you, it was your father, and that's all one." So he seized the poor innocent, helpless thing, tore it to pieces, and made a meal of it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.]

MORAL.

Bad men, who wish to quarrel, will always find a pretence; if they can find no true grounds, they will resort to those which are false.

FABLE XXVI.

THE OLD BULLFINCH AND YOUNG BIRDS.

It chanced, that, on a winter's day, But warm and bright, and calm as May, The birds, conceiving a design To forestall sweet St. Valentine, In many an orchard, copse, and grove, a.s.sembled on affairs of love; And with much twitter and much chatter, Began to agitate the matter.

At length, a Bullfinch, who could boast More years and wisdom than the most, Entreated, opening wide his beak, A moment's liberty to speak; And, silence publicly enjoined, Delivered briefly thus his mind:

"My friends, be cautious how ye treat The subject upon which we meet; I fear we shall have winter yet."

A Finch, whose tongue knew no control, With golden wing, and satin poll, A last year's bird, who ne'er had tried What marriage means, thus pert replied:

"Methinks, the gentleman," quoth she, "Opposite, in the apple-tree, By his good will, would keep us single, 'Till yonder heaven and earth shall mingle; Or (which is likelier to befall) 'Till death exterminate us all.

I marry without more ado; My dear d.i.c.k Redcap, what say you?"

d.i.c.k heard; and tweedling, ogling, bridling, Turning short round, strutting, and sidling, Attested glad his approbation Of an immediate conjugation.

Their sentiments so well express'd, Influenced mightily the rest; All pair'd, and each pair built a nest.

But though the birds were thus in haste, The leaves came on not quite so fast; And destiny, that sometimes bears An aspect stern on man's affairs, Not altogether smil'd on theirs.

The wind, that late breath'd gently forth, Now s.h.i.+fted east, and east by north; Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know, Could shelter them from rain or snow; Stepping into their nests, they paddled, Themselves were chill'd, their eggs were addled; Soon every father bird, and mother, Grew quarrelsome, and peck'd each other; Parted without the least regret, Except that they had ever met; And learn'd in future to be wiser Than to neglect a good adviser.

MORAL.

Young folks, who think themselves so wise, That old folks' counsel they despise, Will find, when they too late repent, Their folly prove their punishment.

FABLE XXVII.

THE MOUSE AND THE WEASEL.

A LITTLE starveling rogue of a Mouse had, with much pus.h.i.+ng application, made his way through a small hole in a corn-basket, where he stuffed and crammed so plentifully, that, when he would have retired the way he came, he found himself too plump, with all his endeavours, to accomplish it. A Weasel, who stood at some distance, and had been diverting himself with beholding the vain efforts of the little fat thing, called to him, and said, "Harkee, honest friend; if you have a mind to make your escape, there is but one way for it: contrive to grow as poor and lean as you were when you entered, and then, perhaps, you may get off."

MORAL.