Literary Fables of Yriarte Part 6

FABLE XXVI.

THE LION, EAGLE AND BAT.

The Eagle and Lion Held solemn debate; To settle between them Some matters of state

Loud complaints of the Bat Made the Eagle--"How long Shall this pitiful creature Dare do us such wrong?

With my va.s.sals mixing, To her birds.h.i.+p she clings,-- As proof irrefragable, Showing her wings;

But says, when she chooses Our laws to defy, I'm no subject of yours; A plain quadruped I.

Would you call me a Bird?

A sad blunder you've made!

For I wear a broad snout, And no beak, on my head?

With my va.s.sals, she slanders The Beasts of your reign; When among you she wanders, Of the Birds will complain."

"In my realm," said the Lion, "No more shall she come."-- "Nor in mine," said the Eagle-- "Let that be her doom."

Thenceforward, in darkness, She wanders alone; No Bird and no Beast Such companion will own.

Bats of authors, who seek To be two things at once, Take care lest ye prove In both--but a dunce!

FABLE XXVII.

THE MONKEY.

A Monkey, clothed in silk, Will a Monkey still remain; So says an ancient proverb, And so say I again; As to all, it clearly will appear, Who listen to our fable here.

In dress of gaudy hues, Such as harlequin would choose, A Monkey tricked herself.

But I rather think the elf From her master got her finery; For else, I hardly see How Monkey could or cloth or tailor find find-- Yet so the story goes--but never mind.

Seeing herself so gay, She through the window sprang Upon a roof that lay Below, then took her way Unto the far-off land of Tetuan.

The proverb don't say this; But there a history is, Which I cannot call to mind,-- For the book is very rare,--- Which doth the truth unravel Whither she did travel; Which to discover must have cost a world of care But the author does not say, And neither can I guess.

If by s.h.i.+p, or by the way Of the Isthmus of Suez: All that we know is, that she certainly went there.

Here our fine lady found A jolly Monkey crew,-- For Monkeys there abound,-- But naked every one: As no other style they knew In the land of Tetuan.

Now the naked Monkeys crowd An admiring glance to s.n.a.t.c.h; Homage to pay they press; And readily allowed, To the brainless little wretch, Wisdom and wit to match The splendors of her dress.

And forthwith it was decided, By general accord, That to her should be confided, As ruler of the horde, A meditated foray Far and wide about the land, A stock of food to gather To feed the hungry band.

So the leader new set forth With all her subject host, And, not alone her road, But her wits as well, she lost.

Over mountain, moor and valley, Forest, and ridge, and plain, Deserts, rivers and mora.s.ses, She dragged her wearied train.

When the day's work was over They could scarcely move a limb; And each exhausted rover Decided--if again, Through his life, in such excursion It should be his luck to join-- That he would choose a captain More skilled, if not so fine.

From toil and from vexation, They learned a lesson bitter-- That fine clothing is not wisdom, Not all things gold that glitter.

Now, far this side of Tetuan, We many a Monkey see, Who, though he wear the student's Will still a blockhead be.

FABLE XXVIII.

THE a.s.s AND HIS MASTER.

"On good and bad an equal value sets The stupid mob. From me the worst it gets, And never fails to praise," With vile pretence, The scurrilous author thus his trash excused.

A poet shrewd, hearing the lame defence, Indignant, thus exposed the argument abused.

A Donkey's master said unto his beast, While doling out to him his lock of straw, "Here, take it--since such diet suits your taste, And much good may it do your vulgar maw!"

Often the slighting speech the man repeated.

The a.s.s--his quiet mood by insult heated-- Replies: "Just what you choose to give, I take, Master unjust! but not because I choose it.

Think you I nothing like but straw? Then make The experiment. Bring corn, and see if I refuse it."

Ye caterers for the public, hence take heed How your defaults by false excuse you cover!

Fed upon straw--straw it may eat, indeed: Try it with generous fare--'t will scorn the other.

FABLE XXIX.

THE TURNSPIT AND THE MULE OF THE WELL.

In inn or convent kitchen, The reader oft, no doubt, Turning the spit about, A contrivance shrewd has seen.

A wheel of wood is it, With steps on outer rim, Where a Dog, ceaseless clambering, Turns it beneath his feet.

A Dog, who every day, In such wheel, performed his stint, Thus expressed his discontent: "Hard work and paltry pay!

Here I may climb and sweat; And, when my task is done, They throw me out a bone,-- While they eat all the meat.

Wearily, wearily on, Day pa.s.ses after day.

In the house I will not stay, Nor in the hated town."

The first chance of flight improving, He slily off did steal; Till he found, in a field, a wheel Of a well, which a Mule kept moving.

As his eyes he on it set, He cried,--"What have we here?

By this it would appear Here, too, they're roasting meat."

"No meat I roast, but pump Water," replied the Mule.-- "Let me, now, try a pull; I'm light, but up I'll jump.

Ah! pretty heavy, is it?