Jean de la Fontaine

NO master sage, nor orator I know, Who can success, like gentle Cupid show; His ways and arguments are pleasing smiles,

[1] Were I a pet of fair Calliope, I would devote the gifts conferr'd on me

SICK, Alice grown, and fearing dire event, Some friend advised a servant should be sent Her confessor to bring and ease her mind; -

Whilst one philosopher tells us that men are constantly the dupes of their own senses, another will swear that the senses never deceive. Both are right. Philosophy truly affirms that the senses will deceive so long as men are content to take upon trust the evidence the senses bring. But if this evidence is weighed, measured, and tested by every available resource of science the senses can deceive no one. * * * * * In England, not long ago, when a large telescope was levelled to observe the moon, the observer was astounded to see what he took to be some new animal in this lovely planet. Everybody was excited about the marvellous appearance. Something had occurred up above there which, without doubt, must betoken great changes of some sort. Who could tell but that all the dreadful wars that were then convulsing Europe had not been caused by it? The king, who patronised the sciences, hastened to the observatory to see the sight, and see it he did. There was the monster right enough!

[1] While one philosopher[2] affirms That by our senses we're deceived,

PAINTER in Paphos and Cythera famed Depict, I pray, the absent Iris' face. Thou hast not seen the lovely nymph I've named;

PRONE, on my couch I calmly slept Against my wont.        A little child Awoke me as he gently crept

YOUR name with ev'ry pleasure here I place, The last effusions of my muse to grace. O charming Phillis! may the same extend

An Imitation Of Theocritus.[1] To Madame De La M'sang're.[2] Offspring of her to whom, to-day,

[1] Death never taketh by surprise The well-prepared, to wit, the wise -

A poor unfortunate, from day to day, Call'd Death to take him from this world away. 'O Death' he said, 'to me how fair thy form!

A poor wood-chopper, with his fagot load, Whom weight of years, as well as load, oppress'd, Sore groaning in his smoky hut to rest,

How I have always hated the opinions of the mob! To me, a mob seems profane, unjust, and rash, putting false construction on all things, and judging every matter by a mob-made standard. Democritus had experience of this. His countrymen thought him mad. Little minds! But then, no one is a prophet in his own country! The people themselves were mad, of course, and Democritus was the wise man. Nevertheless the error went so far that the city of Abdera[6] sent a messenger to the great physician Hippocrates, requesting him both by letter and by spoken word to come and restore the sage's reason. "Our citizen," said the spokesman with tears in his eyes, "has lost his wits, alas! Study has corrupted Democritus. If he were less wise we should esteem him much more. He will have it that there is no limit to the number of worlds like ours and that possibly they are inhabited with numberless Democrituses. Not satisfied with these wild dreams, he talks also of atoms - phantoms born only in his own empty brain. Then, measuring the very heavens, though he remains here below to do it, he claims to know the universe; yet admits that he does not know himself. Time was when he could control debates, now he mutters only to himself. So come, thou divine mortal, for the patient's case is a bad one."

How do I hate the tide of vulgar thought! Profane, unjust, with childish folly fraught; It breaks and bends the rays of truth divine,

The goddess Discord, having made, on high, Among the gods a general grapple, And thence a lawsuit, for an apple,

Once upon a time there were two dogs, one named Lurcher and the other C'sar. They were brothers; handsome, well-built, and plucky, and descended from dogs who were famous in their day. These two brothers, falling into the hands of different masters, found their destinies likewise in different spheres; for whilst one haunted the forests, the other lurched about a kitchen. The names to which they now answered were not, however, the names that were first given them. The influence of each one's career upon his nature brought about a new name and a new reputation; for C'sar's nature was improved and strengthened by the life he led, whilst Lurcher's was made more and more despicable by a degraded existence. A scullion named him Lurcher; but the other dog received his noble name on account of his life of high adventure. He had held many a stag at bay, killed many a hare, and otherwise risen to the position of a C'sar among dogs. Care was taken that he should not mate indiscriminately, so that his descendants' blood should not degenerate. On the other hand, poor Lurcher bestowed his affections wherever he would and his brood became populous. He was the progenitor of all turn-spits in France; a variety which became common enough to form at last a race in themselves. They show more readiness to flee than to attack, and are the very antipodes of the C'sars. We do not always follow our ancestors, nor even resemble our fathers. Want of care, the flight of time, a thousand things, cause us to degenerate.

Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended From dogs by Fame the most commended, Who falling, in their puppyhood,

Lapluck and C'sar brothers were, descended From dogs by Fame the most commended, Who falling, in their puppyhood,

'Tis thus, by crystal fount, my muse hath sung, Translating into heavenly tongue Whatever came within my reach,

Here check we our career: Long books I greatly fear. I would not quite exhaust my stuff;

JOHN, as he came, so went away, Consuming capital and pay, Holding superfluous riches cheap;

IN Eastern climes, by means considered new; The Mount's old-man, with terrors would pursue; His large domains howe'er were not the cause,

[1] Beside a well, uncurb'd and deep, A schoolboy laid him down to sleep:

IF these gay tales give pleasure to the FAIR, The honour's great conferred, I'm well aware; Yet, why suppose the sex my pages shun?

HANS CARVEL took, when weak and late in life; A girl, with youth and beauteous charms to wife; And with her, num'rous troubles, cares and fears;

IN Lombardy's fair land, in days of yore, Once dwelt a prince, of youthful charms, a store; Each FAIR, with anxious look, his favours sought,

[1] Of yore, a farm had Jupiter to rent; To advertise it, Mercury was sent.

[1] How danger would the gods enrich, If we the vows remember'd which

One day, as Jupiter seated on high looked down upon the world, he was incensed at the faults committed by mankind. "Let us," he said, "have some other occupants in the regions of the universe in place of these present inhabitants who importune and weary me. Go you to Hades, Mercury, and bring hither the cruellest of the furies. This time, O race that I have too tenderly nurtured, you shall perish." After this outburst the temper of the god began to cool. O ye sovereigns of this world, to whom it has been given to be the arbiters of our destinies, let a night intervene between your wrath and the storm which follow!

Said Jupiter, one day, As on a cloud he lay, 'Observing all our crimes,

IN life oft ills from self-imprudence spring; As proof, Candaules' story we will bring; In folly's scenes the king was truly great:

Everything to do with love is mystery. Cupid's arrows, his quiver, his torch, his boyhood: it is more than a day's work to exhaust this science. I make no pretence here of explaining everything. My object is merely to relate to you, in my own way, how the blind little god was deprived of his sight, and what consequences followed this evil which perchance was a blessing after all. On the latter point I will decide nothing, but will leave it to lovers to judge upon. One day as Folly and Love were playing together, before the boy had lost his vision, a dispute arose. To settle this matter Love wished to lay his cause before a council of the gods; but Folly, losing her patience, dealt him a furious blow upon the brow. From that moment and for ever the light of heaven was gone from his eyes. Venus demanded redress and revenge, the mother and the wife in her asserting themselves in a way which I leave you to imagine. She deafened the gods with her cries, appealing to Jupiter, Nemesis, the judges from Hades, in fact all who would be importuned. She represented the seriousness of the case, pointing out that her son could now not make a step without a stick. No punishment, she urged, was heavy enough for so dire a crime, and she demanded that the damage should be repaired.

[1] Love bears a world of mystery - His arrows, quiver, torch, and infancy:

A CERTAIN pious rector (John his name), But little preached, except when vintage came; And then no preparation he required

TO serve the shop as 'prentice was the lot; Of one who had the name of Nicaise got; A lad quite ignorant beyond his trade,

[1] Look where we will throughout creation, We look in vain for moderation.

Among the beasts a feud arose. The lion, as the story goes, Once on a time laid down

[1] From home and city spires, one day, The swallow Progne flew away,

[1] Old Boreas and the sun, one day Espied a traveller on his way,

IN ev'ry age, at Naples, we are told, Intrigue and gallantry reign uncontrolled; With beauteous objects in abundance blessed.

Three sorts there are, as Malherbe[2] says, Which one can never overpraise - The gods, the ladies, and the king;

WHEN Sister Jane, who had produced a child, In prayer and penance all her hours beguiled Her sister-nuns around the lattice pressed;

TO charms and philters, secret spells and prayers, How many round attribute all their cares! In these howe'er I never can believe,

What God does is done well. Without going round the world to seek a proof of that, I can find one in the pumpkin. A villager was once struck with the largeness of a pumpkin and the thinness of the stem upon which it grew. "What could the Almighty have been thinking about?" he cried. "He has certainly chosen a bad place for a pumpkin to grow. Eh zounds! Now I would have hung it on one of these oaks. That would have been just as it should be. Like fruit, like tree! What a pity, Hodge," said he, addressing himself, "that you were not on the spot to give advice at the Creation which the parson preaches about. Everything would have been properly done then. For instance; wouldn't this acorn, no bigger than my little finger, be better hanging on this frail stem? The Almighty has blundered there surely! The more I think about these fruits and their situations, the more it seems to me that it is all a mistake." Becoming worried by so much reflection our Hodge cast himself under an oak saying, "A man can't sleep when he has so much brain." Then he at once dropped off into a nap.

God's works are good. This truth to prove Around the world I need not move; I do it by the nearest pumpkin.

Once there was a country bumpkin Who observed a great big pumpkin To a slender stem attached;

DAN CUPID, though the god of soft amour, In ev'ry age works miracles a store; Can Catos change to male coquets at ease;

[1] A fable flourished with antiquity Whose meaning I could never clearly see.

One of those dread evils which spread terror far and wide, and which Heaven, in its anger, ordains for the punishment of wickedness upon earth - a plague in fact; and so dire a one as to make rich in one day that grim ferryman who takes a coin from all who cross the river Acheron to the land of the dead - such a plague was once waging war against the animals. All were attacked, although all did not die. So hopeless was the case that not one of them attempted to sustain their sinking lives. Even the sight of food did not rouse them. Wolves and foxes no longer turned eager and calculating eyes upon their gentle and guileless prey. The turtle-doves went no more in cooing pairs, but were content to avoid each other. Love and the joy that comes of love were both at an end. At length the lion called a council of all the beasts and addressed them in these words: "My dear friends, it seems to me that it is for our sins that Heaven has permitted this misfortune to fall upon us. Would it not be well if the most blameworthy among us allowed himself to be offered as a sacrifice to appease the celestial wrath? By so doing he might secure our recovery. History tells us that this course is usually pursued in such cases as ours. Let us look into our consciences without self-deception or condoning. For my own part, I freely admit that in order to satisfy my gluttony I have devoured an appalling number of sheep; and yet what had they done to me to deserve such a fate? Nothing that could be called an offence. Sometimes, indeed, I have gone so far as to eat the shepherd too! On the whole, I think I had better render myself for this act of sacrifice; that is, if we agree that it is a thing necessary to the general good. And yet I think it would be only fair that every one should declare his sins as well as I; for I could wish that, in justice, it were the most culpable that should perish." "Sire," said the fox, "you are really too yielding for a king, and your scruples show too much delicacy of feeling. Eating sheep indeed! What of that? - a foolish and rascally tribe! Is that a crime? No! a hundred times no! On the contrary your noble jaws did but do them great honour. As for the shepherd, it may be fairly said that all the harm he got he merited, since he was one of those who fancy they have dominion over the animal kingdom." Thus spake the fox and every other flatterer in the assembly applauded him. Nor did any seek to inquire deeply into the least pardonable offences of the tiger, the bear, and the other mighty ones. All those of an aggressive nature, right down to the simple watch-dog, were something like saints in their own opinions.

[1] The sorest ill that Heaven hath Sent on this lower world in wrath, -

There is an ape in Paris to whom a wife was once given; and he, imitating many another husband, beat the poor creature to such an extent that she sighed all the breath out of her body and died. Their son uttered the most doleful howls as a protest to this terrible business. The father laughs now. His wife is dead and he already has found other lady companions, whom, no doubt, he beats in the same way; for he haunts the taverns and is frequently tipsy.

There is an ape in Paris, To which was given a wife: Like many a one that marries,

Three saints, for their salvation jealous, Pursued, with hearts alike most zealous, By routes diverse, their common aim.

Three saints, all equally zealous and anxious for their salvation, had the same ideal, although the means by which they strove towards it were different. But as all roads lead to Rome, these three were each content to choose their own path. One, touched by the cares, the tediousness, and the reverses which seem to be inevitably attached to lawsuits, offered, without any reward, to judge and settle all causes submitted to him. To make a fortune on this earth was not an end he had in view. Ever since there have been laws, man, for his sins, has condemned himself to litigation half his lifetime. Half? three-quarters, I should say, and sometimes the whole. This good conciliator imagined he could cure the silly and detestable craze for going to law.

[1] A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny Of being made to rise before the dawn.

[1] Dame Nature, our respected mother, Ordains that we should aid each other.

[1] One's native talent from its course Cannot be turned aside by force;

[1] An ass, with relics for his load, Supposed the worship on the road

[1] Clad in a lion's shaggy hide, An ass spread terror far and wide,

An Ass in The Lion's skin arrayed Made everybody fear. And this was queer,

[1] A man, whom I shall call an ass-eteer, His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing,

Along the road an ass and dog One master following, did jog. Their master slept: meanwhile, the ass

[1] To an astrologer who fell Plump to the bottom of a well,

WHO knows the world will never feel surprise, When men are duped by artful women's eyes; Though death his weapon freely will unfold;

[1] A blundering bat once stuck her head Into a wakeful weasel's bed;

[1] A bush, duck, and bat, having found that in trade, Confined to their country, small profits were made,

[1] The weasels live, no more than cats, On terms of friendship with the rats;

[1] A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, By fate confined within a lonely wood,

[1] Two fellows, needing funds, and bold, A bearskin to a furrier sold,

[1] A bird, with plum'd arrow shot, In dying case deplored her lot:

[1] A bitch, that felt her time approaching, And had no place for parturition,

[1] Wise counsel is not always wise, As this my tale exemplifies.

IF once in love, you'll soon invention find And not to cunning tricks and freaks be blind; The youngest 'prentice, when he feels the dart,

A close-fist had his money hoarded Beyond the room his till afforded. His avarice aye growing ranker,

The first who saw the humpback'd camel Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care; The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare

[1] The Pha'ton who drove a load of hay Once found his cart bemired.

THOSE who in fables deal, bestow at ease Both names and titles, freely as they please. It costs them scarcely any thing, we find.

The cat and the fox, in the manner of good little saints, started out upon a pilgrimage. They were both humbugs, arch-hypocrites, two downright highwaymen, who for the expenses of their journey indemnified themselves by seeing who could devour the most fowls and gobble the most cheese. The way was long and therefore wearisome, so they shortened it by arguing. Argumentation is a great help. Without it one would go to sleep. Our pilgrims shouted themselves hoarse. Then having argued themselves out, they talked of other things. At length the fox said to the cat, "You pretend that you're very clever. Do you know as much as I? I have a hundred ruses up my sleeve."

The Cat and the Fox once took a walk together, Sharpening their wits with talk about the weather And as their walking sharpened appetite, too;

The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage, Together went on pilgrimage. Arch hypocrites and swindlers, they,

[1] A story-writer of our sort Historifies, in short,

[1] Four creatures, wont to prowl, - Sly Grab-and-Snatch, the cat,

A thrush that sang one rustic ode Once made a garden his abode, And gave the owner such delight,

[1] To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne. Contemporary with a sparrow tame

[1] A bachelor caress'd his cat, A darling, fair, and delicate;

[1] John Rabbit's palace under ground Was once by Goody Weasel found.

[1] The world has never lack'd its charlatans, More than themselves have lack'd their plans.

A City Mouse, with ways polite, A Country Mouse invited To sup with him and spend the night.

A city rat, one night, Did, with a civil stoop, A country rat invite

IF truth give pleasure, surely we should try; To found our tales on what we can rely; Th' experiment repeatedly I've made,

[1] Upon a sandy, uphill road, Which naked in the sunshine glow'd,

WE'RE told, that once a cobbler, BLASE by name; A wife had got, whose charms so high in fame; But as it happened, that their cash was spent,

There was once a cobbler who was so light hearted that he sang from morning to night. It was wonderful to watch him at his work, and more wonderful still to hear his runs and trills. He was in fact happier than the Seven Sages. This merry soul had a neighbour who was exactly the reverse. He sang little and slept less; for he was a financier, and made of money, as they say. Whenever it happened that after a sleepless night he would doze off in the early morning, the cobbler, who was always up betimes, would wake him up again with his joyful songs. "Ha!" thought the man of wealth, "what a misfortune it is that one cannot buy sleep in the open market as one buys food and drink!" Then an idea came to him. He invited the cobbler to his house, where he asked him some questions. "Tell me, Master Gregory, what do you suppose your earnings amount to in a year?"

A cobbler sang from morn till night; 'Twas sweet and marvellous to hear, His trills and quavers told the ear

[1] Upon a tree there mounted guard A veteran cock, adroit and cunning;

[1] A cock scratch'd up, one day, A pearl of purest ray,

[1] A youthful mouse, not up to trap, Had almost met a sad mishap.

That great hero-wanderer Ulysses had been with his companions driven hither and thither at the will of the winds for ten years, never knowing what their ultimate fate was to be. At length they disembarked upon a shore where Circe, the daughter of Apollo, held her court. Receiving them she brewed a delicious but baneful liquor, which she made them drink. The result of this was that first they lost their reason, and a few moments after, their bodies took the forms and features of various animals; some unwieldy, some small. Ulysses alone, having the wisdom to withstand the temptation of the treacherous cup, escaped the metamorphosis. He, besides possessing wisdom, bore the look of a hero and had the gift of honeyed speech, so that it came about that the goddess herself imbibed a poison little different from her own; that is to say, she became enamoured of the hero and declared her love to him. Now was the time for Ulysses to profit by this turn of events, and he was too cunning to miss the opportunity, so he begged and obtained the boon that his friends should be restored to their natural shapes. "But will they be willing to accept their own forms again?" asked the nymph. "Go to them and make them the offer." Ulysses, glad and eager, ran to his Greeks and cried, "The poisoned cup has its remedy, and I come to offer it to you. Dear friends of mine, will you not be glad to have your manly forms again? Speak, for your speech is already restored."

To Monseigneur The Duke De Bourgogne.[1] Dear prince, a special favourite of the skies, Pray let my incense from your altars rise.

THE husband's dire mishap, and silly maid, In ev'ry age, have proved the fable's aid; The fertile subject never will be dry:

WHEN Cupid with his dart, would hearts assail, The rampart most secure is not the VEIL; A husband better will the FAIR protect,

[1] Old Rodilard,[2] a certain cat, Such havoc of the rats had made,

TWO lawyers to their cause so well adhered, A country justice quite confused appeared, By them the facts were rendered so obscure

[1] A countryman, as Aesop certifies, A charitable man, but not so wise,

A COUNTRYMAN, one day, his calf had lost, And, seeking it, a neighbouring forest crossed; The tallest tree that in the district grew,

NEAR Rome, of yore, close to the Florence road, Was seen a humble innkeeper's abode; Small sums were charged; few guests the night would stay;

SOME time ago from Rome, in smart array, A younger brother homeward bent his way, Not much improved, as frequently the case

A fox once practised, 'tis believed, A stratagem right well conceived. The wretch, when in the utmost strait

A dead man going slowly, sadly, To occupy his last abode, A curate by him, rather gladly,

A young country woman named Perrette set out one morning from her little dairy-farm with a pail of milk which she cleverly balanced upon her head over a pad or cushion. She hurried with sprightly steps to the market town, and so that she might be the less encumbered, wore a kirtle that was short and light - in truth a simple petticoat - and shoes low and easy. As she went, her thoughts ran upon the price to be gained for her milk, and she schemed a way to lay out the sum in the purchase of one hundred eggs. She was sure that with care and diligence these would yield three broods. "It would be quite easy to me," she said, "to raise the chicks near the house. The fox would be clever who would not leave me enough to buy one pig. A pig would fatten at the cost of a little bran, and when he had grown a fair size I should make a bargain of him for a good round sum. And then, considering the price he will fetch, what is to prevent my putting into our stable a cow and a calf? I can fancy how the calf will frisk about among the sheep!" Thereupon Perrette herself frisked for joy, transported with the picture of her affluence. Over toppled the milk! Adieu to calf and cow and pig and broods! This lady of wealth had to leave, with tearful eyes, her dissipated fortunes, and go straight to her husband framing excuses to avoid a beating. The farce became known to the whole countryside, and people called Perrette by the name of "Milkpail" ever after. Who has never talked wildly? Who has never built castles in Spain? Wise men as well as milkmaids; sages and fools, all have waking dreams and find them sweet! Our senses are carried away by some flattering falsehood, and then wealth, honours, and beauty seem ours to command.

A pot of milk upon her cushion'd crown, Good Peggy hasten'd to the market town; Short clad and light, with speed she went,

HE surely must be wrong who loving fears; And does not flee when beauty first appears. Ye FAIR, with charms divine, I know your fame;

BY master Francis clearly 'tis expressed: The folks of Papimania are blessed; True sleep for them alone it seems was made

[1] The selfsame patient put to test Two doctors, Fear-the-worst and Hope-the-best.

A dog and cat, messmates for life, Were often falling into strife, Which came to scratching, growls, and snaps,

A foolish Dog, who carried in his jaw A juicy bone, Looked down into a stream, and there he saw

Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, Nor hands against the touch of gold. Fidelity is sadly rare,

Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, Nor hands against the touch of gold. Fidelity is sadly rare,

[1] This world is full of shadow-chasers, Most easily deceived.

Our hands are no more proof against gold than our eyes are proof against beauty. There are but few who guard their treasures with care enough. A certain dog who had been taught to carry to his master the mid-day meal was one day trotting along with the savoury burden slung around his neck. He was tempted to take a taste himself; but knew that it would be wrong to do so, and being a temperate, self-governed dog he refrained. We of the human race allow ourselves to be tempted by covetable things often enough; but, strange as it is, there seems to be more difficulty in teaching mankind to resist temptation than there is in teaching dogs to do so. On this particular day the dog was met by a mastiff who at once wanted the dinner, but did not find it so easy to capture as he thought; for our dog put it down and stood guard over it. There was a mighty tussle. Soon others arrived; curs that were used to knocks and kicks while picking up a living in the streets. Seeing that he should be badly over-matched, and that his master's dinner was in danger of being devoured by the crowd, he bethought himself how he too might have his share, if shared it must be. So he very wisely exclaimed, "No fighting, gentlemen, my bit will suffice me. Do as you please with the rest." With these words he snapped up a portion, upon which all the rest began to pull and jostle to their utmost and feasted merrily.

'What have I done, I'd like to know, To make my master maim me so? A pretty figure I shall cut!

"What have I done to be treated in this way? Mutilated by my own master! A nice state to be in! Dare I present myself before other dogs? O ye kings over the animals, or rather tyrants of them, would any creature do the same to you?" Such were the lamentations of poor Fido, a young house-dog, whilst those who were busy cropping his ears remained quite untouched by his piercing and dolorous howls. Fido believed himself to be ruined for life; but he very shortly found that he was a gainer by the maiming. For being by nature disposed to pilfer from his companions, it would come within his experience to have many misadventures wherein his ears would be torn in a hundred places.

An Ant who in a brook would drink Fell off the bank. He tried To swim, and felt his courage sink -

A dove came to a brook to drink, When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, An ant fell in, and vainly tried,

An envoy of the Porte Sublime, As history says, once on a time, Before th' imperial German court[2]

A CLOISTERED nun had a lover Dwelling in the neighb'ring town; Both racked their brains to discover

[1] Each has his fault, to which he clings In spite of shame or fear.

[1] John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, Was making for his hole in haste,

[1] The eagle, through the air a queen, And one far different, I ween,

[1] The eagle and the owl, resolved to cease Their war, embraced in pledge of peace.

[1] A certain hollow tree Was tenanted by three.

WHEN William went from home (a trader styled): Six months his better half he left with child, A simple, comely, modest, youthful dame,

[1] Some beast with horns did gore The lion; and that sovereign dread,

[1] An iron pot proposed To an earthen pot a journey.

HOWEVER exquisite we BEAUTY find, It satiates sense, and palls upon the mind: Brown bread as well as white must be for me;

Once in the olden times the elephant and the rhinoceros disputed as to which was the more important, and which should, therefore, have empire over the other animals. They decided to settle the point by battle in an enclosed field. The day was fixed, and all in readiness, when somebody came and informed them that Jupiter's ape, bearing a caduceus, had been seen in the air. The fact of his holding a caduceus[1] proved him to be acting as official messenger from Olympus, and the elephant immediately took it for granted that the ape came as ambassador with greetings to his highness. Elated with this idea he waited for Gille, for that was the name of the ape, and thought him rather tardy in presenting his credentials. But at length Master Gille did salute his excellency as he passed, and the elephant prepared himself for the message. But not a word was forthcoming. It was evident that the gods were not giving so much attention to these matters as the elephant supposed.

'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose About precedence a dispute arose, Which they determined to decide by blows.

[1] To Madame Harvey.[2] Sound reason and a tender heart

IF there's a tale more common than the rest, The one I mean to give is such confessed. Why choose it then? you ask; at whose desire?

[1] A stag took refuge from the chase Among the oxen of a stable,

Thanks to Memory's daughters nine, Animals have graced my line: Higher heroes in my story

I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed, The sort of lover, avaricious named; And if in opposites we reason see,

[1] You often hear a sweet seductive call: If wise, you haste towards it not at all; -

[1] The wolf and fox are neighbours strange: I would not build within their range.

[1] No pond nor pool within his haunt But paid a certain cormorant

[1] Thrysis - who for his Annette dear Made music with his flute and voice,

[1] A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, Discuss'd the question of their rank.

A knight of powder-horn and shot Once fill'd his bag - as I would not, Unless the feelings of my breast

[1] A fool pursued, with club and stone, A sage, who said, 'My friend, well done!

[1] Of fools come never in the reach: No rule can I more wisely teach.

A fool, in town, did wisdom cry; The people, eager, flock'd to buy. Each for his money got,

A woodcutter had broken or lost the handle of his hatchet and found it not easy to get it repaired at once. During the time, therefore, that it was out of use, the woods enjoyed a respite from further damage. At last the man came humbly and begged of the forest to allow him gently to take just one branch wherewith to make him a new haft, and promised that then he would go elsewhere to ply his trade and get his living. That would leave unthreatened many an oak and many a fir that now won universal respect on account of its age and beauty. The innocent forest acquiesced and furnished him with a new handle. This he fixed to his blade and, as soon as it was finished, fell at once upon the trees, despoiling his benefactress, the forest, of her most cherished ornaments. There was no end to her bewailings: her own gift had caused her grief. Here you see the way of the world and of those who follow it. They use the benefit against the benefactors. I weary of talking about it. Yet who would not complain that sweet and shady spots should suffer such outrage. Alas! it is useless to cry out and be thought a nuisance: ingratitude and abuses will remain the fashion none the less.

Reputations may be made by the merest chances, and yet reputations control the fashions. That is a little prologue that would fit the case of all sorts of people. Everywhere around one sees prejudices, scheming, and obtuseness; but little or no justice. Nothing can be done to stem this torrent of evil. It must run its course. It always has been and always will be. A woman in Paris once made it her profession to tell fortunes. She became very popular and had great success. Did anybody lose a bit of finery; had any one a sweetheart; had any wife a husband she was tired of; any husband a jealous wife, to the prophetess such would run simply to be told the thing that it was comforting to hear. The stock-in-trade of this fortune-teller consisted merely of a convincing manner, a few words of scientific jargon, a great deal of impudence, and much good luck. All these things together so impressed the people that as often as not they would cry, "Miraculous!" In short, although the woman's ignorance was quite twenty-three carat she passed for a veritable oracle.

'Tis oft from chance opinion takes its rise, And into reputation multiplies. This prologue finds pat applications

[1] From wrongs of wicked men we draw Excuses for our own: -

[1] The great are like the maskers of the stage; Their show deceives the simple of the age.

[1] A fox once journey'd, and for company A certain bearded, horned goat had he;

[1] A fox, almost with hunger dying, Some grapes upon a trellis spying,

Rosy and ripe, and ready to box, The grapes hang high o'er the hungry Fox. - He pricks up his ears, and his eye he cocks.

[1] Old Mister Fox was at expense, one day, To dine old Mistress Stork.

Old Father Fox, who was known to be mean, Invited Dame Stork in to dinner. There was nothing but soup that could scarcely be seen: -

Against a robber fox, a tree Some turkeys served as citadel. That villain, much provoked to see

Some young turkeys were lucky enough to find a tree which served them as a citadel against the assaults of a certain fox. He, one night, having made the round of the rampart and seen each turkey watching like a sentinel, exclaimed, "What! These people laugh at me, do they? And do they think that they alone are exempt from the common rule? No! by all the gods! no!" He accomplished his design. The moon shining brilliantly seemed to favour the turkey folk against the fox. But he was no novice in the laying of sieges, and had recourse to his bag of rascally tricks. He pretended to climb the tree; stood upon his hind legs; counterfeited death; then came to life again. Harlequin himself could not have acted so many parts. He reared his tail and made it gleam in the moonshine, and practised a hundred other pleasantries, during which no turkey could have dared to go to sleep. The enemy tired them out at last by keeping their eyes fixed upon him. The poor birds became dazed. One lost its balance and fell. Reynard put it by. Then another fell and was caught and laid on one side. Nearly half of them at length succumbed and were taken off to the fox's larder.

[1] A cunning old fox, of plundering habits, Great crauncher of fowls, great catcher of rabbits,

[1] A fox, old, subtle, vigilant, and sly, - By hunters wounded, fallen in the mud, -

[1] Left kingless by the lion's death, The beasts once met, our story saith,

[1] A fox, though young, by no means raw, Had seen a horse, the first he ever saw:

[1] They to bamboozle are inclined, Saith Merlin,[2] who bamboozled are.

The tenant of a bog, An envious little frog, Not bigger than an egg,

There was a little Fog Whose home was in a bog, And he worried 'cause he wasn't big enough.

[1] A certain commonwealth aquatic, Grown tired of order democratic,

[1] The lion's consort died: Crowds, gather'd at his side,

A man who had a great fondness for gardening, being half a countryman and half town-bred, possessed in a certain village a fair-sized plot with a field attached, and all enclosed by a quickset hedge. Here sorrel and lettuce grew freely, as well as such flowers as Spanish jasmine and wild thyme, and from these his good wife Margot culled many a posy for her high days and holidays. This happy state of things was soon troubled by the visits of a hare, and to such an extent that the man had to go to his landlord and lodge a complaint. "This wretched animal," he said, "comes here and stuffs himself night and morning, and simply laughs at traps and snares. As for stones and sticks they make no difference whatever to him. He must be enchanted." "Enchanted!" cried the landlord. "I defy enchantment! Were he the devil himself old Towler would soon rout him out in spite of his tricks. I'll rid you of him, my man, never fear!"

A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown, Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town; And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed,

I AM always inclined to suspect The best story under the sun As soon as by chance I detect

A GASCON (being heard one day to swear, That he'd possess'd a certain lovely fair,) Was played a wily trick, and nicely served;

A STURGEON, once, a glutton famed was led To have for supper - all, except the head. With wond'rous glee he feasted on the fish;

Jupiter had a son, who, sensible of his lofty origin, showed always a god-like spirit. Childhood is not much concerned with loving; yet to the childhood of this young god, loving and wishing to be loved was the chief concern. In him, love and reason which grow with years, outraced Time, that light-winged bearer of the seasons which come, alas! only too quickly. Flora,[14] with laughing looks and winning airs, was the first to touch the heart of the youthful Olympian. Everything that passion could inspire - delicate sentiments full of tenderness, tears, and sighs - all were there: he forgot nothing. As a son of Jupiter he would by right of birth be dowered with greater gifts than the sons of other gods; and it seemed as though all his behaviour were prompted by the reminiscence that he had indeed already been a lover in some former state, so well did he play the part. Nevertheless, it was Jupiter's wish that the boy should be taught, and assembling the gods in council he said, "So far, I have never been at fault in the conduct of the universe which I have ruled unaided; but there are various charges which I now have decided to distribute amongst the younger gods. This beloved child of mine I have already counted upon. He is of my own blood and many an altar already flames in his honour. Yet to merit his rank among the immortals it is necessary that he should possess all knowledge."

[1] For Monseigneur The Duke Du Maine. To Jupiter was born a son,[2]

A father once, whose sons were two, For each a gift had much ado. At last upon this course he fell:

[1] When Nature angrily turn'd out Those plagues, the spider and the gout, -

The Grasshopper, singing All summer long, Now found winter stinging,

A Grasshopper gay Sang the summer away, And found herself poor

[1] Once in his bed deep mused the hare, (What else but muse could he do there?)

Never mock at other people's misfortune; for you cannot tell how soon you yourself may be unhappy. 'sop the sage has given us one or two examples of this truth, and I am going to tell you of a similar one now. A hare and a partridge were living as fellow-citizens very peacefully in a field, when a pack of hounds making an onset obliged the hare to seek refuge. He rushed into his form and succeeded in putting the hounds at fault. But here the scent from his over-heated body betrayed him. Towler, philosophising, concluded that this scent came from his hare, and with admirable zeal routed him out. Then old Trusty, who never is at fault, proclaimed that the hare was gone away. The poor unfortunate creature at last died in his form. The partridge, his companion, thought fit to soothe his last moments with some scoffing remarks upon his fate. "You boasted of being so swift," she said "What has come to your feet, then?"

A field in common share A partridge and a hare, And live in peaceful state,

Beware how you deride The exiles from life's sunny side: To you is little known

Said the Tortoise one day to the Hare: "I'll run you a race if you dare. I'll bet you cannot

[1] To win a race, the swiftness of a dart Availeth not without a timely start.

[1] Two parts the serpent has - Of men the enemies -

The heifer, the goat, and their sister the sheep, Compacted their earnings in common to keep, 'Tis said, in time past, with a lion, who sway'd

To this lesson in greed, Pray, little ones, heed: Each day, we are told,

[1] How avarice loseth all, By striving all to gain,

WHEN Venus and Hypocrisy combine, Oft pranks are played that show a deep design; Men are but men, and friars full as weak:

A long-legged Heron, with long neck and beak, Set out for a stroll by the bank of a creek. So clear was the water that if you looked sharp

[1] One day, - no matter when or where, - A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare

[1] A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, All to the market rode together.

[1] "The artist by his work is known." - A piece of honey-comb, one day,

Our destiny is frequently met in the very paths we take to avoid it. A father had an only son whom he loved excessively. His devoted affection caused him to be so anxious as to the boy's welfare that he sought to learn from astrologers and fortune-tellers what fate was in store for the son and heir. One of these soothsayers told him that an especial danger lay with lions, from which the youth must be guarded until the age of twenty was reached, but not after. The father, to make sure of this precaution, upon the issue of which depended the life of his loved one, commanded that by no chance should the boy ever be permitted to go beyond the threshold of the house. Ample provision was made for the satisfaction of all the wishes proper to youth in the way of play with his companions, jumping, running, walking, and so forth. As the age approached when the spirits of youth yearn for the chase, he was taught to hold that sport in abhorrence. But temperament cannot be changed by persuasion and counsel, nor by enlightenment. The young man, eager, ardent, and full of courage, no sooner felt the promptings of his years than he sighed for the forbidden pleasures. The greater the hindrance the stronger the desire. Knowing the reason of his galling restrictions, and viewing day by day in his palatial home the hunting scenes pictured in paint and tapestry on every wall, his excitement became unrestrained.

On death we mortals often run, Just by the roads we take to shun. A father's only heir, a son,

[1] In such a world, all men, of every grade, Should each the other kindly aid;

[1] A wolf, what time the thawing breeze Renews the life of plants and trees,

[1] The horses have not always been The humble slaves of men.

A wolf who, fall'n on needy days, In sharp look-out for means and ways, Espied a horse turn'd out to graze.

[1] A man that loved, - and loved his wife, - Still led an almost joyless life.

WHEN Francis (named the first) o'er Frenchmen reign'd, In Italy young Arthur laurels gained, And oft such daring valour showed in fight,

If worth, were not a thing more rare Than beauty in this planet fair, There would be then less need of care

A DEMON, blacker in his skin than heart, So great a charm was prompted to impart; To one in love, that he the lady gained,

FAMED Paris ne'er within its walls had got, Such magick charms as were Aminta's lot, Youth, beauty, temper, fortune, she possessed,

[1] A trader on the sea to riches grew; Freight after freight the winds in favour blew;

[1] A peacock moulted: soon a jay was seen Bedeck'd with Argus tail of gold and green,[2]

A CERTAIN husband who, from jealous fear, With one eye slept while t'other watched his dear, Deprived his wife of every social joy,

[1] Some seek for jokers; I avoid. A joke must be, to be enjoy'd,

A joker at a banker's table, Most amply spread to satisfy The height of epicurean wishes,

To His August Highness, Monseigneur The Prince De Conti.[2] The gods, for that themselves are good, The like in mortal monarchs would.

AS WILLIAM walking with his wife was seen, A man of rank admired her lovely mien. Who gave you such a charming fair? he cried,

[1] A noted thief, the kite, Had set a neighbourhood in fright,

[1] "Depend upon yourself alone," Has to a common proverb grown.

There was once a mouse who lived in terrible fear of a cat that had lain in wait watching for her. She was in great anxiety to know what she could do to escape the threatening danger. Being prudent and wise she consulted her neighbour, a large and important rat. His lordship the rat had taken up his abode in a very good inn, and had boasted a hundred times that he had no fear for either tom-cat or she-cat. Neither teeth nor claws caused him any anxious thought. "Dame Mouse," said this boaster, "whatever I do, I cannot, upon my word, chase away this cat that threatens you without some help. But let me call together all the rats hereabouts and I'll play him a sorry trick or two."

A mouse was once in mortal fear Of a cat that watch'd her portal near. What could be done in such a case?

[1] The king of animals, with royal grace, Would celebrate his birthday in the chase.

[1] 'Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!' Thus said the royal lion to the gnat.

The Lion once said to the Gnat: "You brat, Clear out just as quick as you can, now - s'cat! If you meddle with me

[1] A braggart, lover of the chase, Had lost a dog of valued race,

To show to all your kindness, it behoves: There's none so small but you his aid may need. I quote two fables for this weighty creed,

[1] A picture once was shown, In which one man, alone,

[1] The lion had an enterprise in hand; Held a war-council, sent his provost-marshal,

[1] A lion, mourning, in his age, the wane Of might once dreaded through his wild domain,

[1] To Mademoiselle De S'vign'.[2] S'vign', type of every grace

The lion, for his kingdom's sake, In morals would some lessons take, And therefore call'd, one summer's day,

[1] His lion majesty would know, one day, What bestial tribes were subject to his sway.

King Lion, thinking that he would govern better if he took a few lessons in moral philosophy, had a monkey brought to him one fine day who was a master of arts in the monkey tribe. The first lesson he gave was as follows: - "Great King, in order to govern wisely a prince should always consider the good of the country before yielding to that feeling which is commonly known as self-love, for that fault is the father of all the vices one sees in animals. To rid oneself of this sentiment is not an easy thing to do, and is not to be done in a day. Indeed, merely to moderate it is to achieve a good deal, and if you succeed so far you will never tolerate in yourself anything ridiculous or unjust." "Give me," commanded the king, "an example of each of those faults."

The lion, for his kingdom's sake, In morals would some lessons take, And therefore call'd, one summer's day,

[1] A lion, old, and impotent with gout, Would have some cure for age found out.

A Lion, old, and impotent with gout, Would have some cure for age found out. This king, from every species, -

[1] Some time ago, a sultan Leopard, By means of many a rich escheat,

The lioness had lost her young; A hunter stole it from the vale; The forests and the mountains rung

Mamma lioness had lost one of her cubs. Some hunter had made away with it, and the poor unfortunate mother roared out her wailings to such an extent that all the inhabitants of the forest were seriously disturbed. The spells of the night, its darkness and its silence, were powerless to hush the tumult of the queen of the forest. Sleep was driven from every animal within hearing. At last the she-bear rose up and coming to the wailing lioness said, "Good Gossip, just one word with you. All those little ones that have passed between your teeth, had they neither fathers nor mothers?" "To be sure they had."

HOW weak is man! how changeable his mind! His promises are naught, too oft we find; I vowed (I hope in tolerable verse,)

THE key, which opes the chest of hoarded gold. Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold. To this the god of love has oft recourse,

[1] A little fish will grow, If life be spared, a great;

[1] The wise, sometimes, as lobsters do, To gain their ends back foremost go.

THE worst of ills, with jealousy compared, Are trifling torments ev'ry where declared. IMAGINE, to yourself a silly fool,

SOME wit, handsome form and gen'rous mind; A triple engine prove in love we find; By these the strongest fortresses are gained

A certain maid, as proud as fair, A husband thought to find Exactly to her mind -

A certain damsel of considerable pride made up her mind to choose a husband who should be young, well-built, and handsome; of agreeable manners and - note these two points - neither cold nor jealous. Moreover, she held it necessary that he should have means, high birth, intellect; in fact, everything. But whoever was endowed with everything? The fates were evidently anxious to do their best for her, for they sent her some most noteworthy suitors. But these the proud beauty found not half good enough. "What, men like those! You propose them for me! Why they are pitiable! Look at them - fine types, indeed!" According to her one was a dullard; another's nose was impossible. With this it was one thing; with that it was another; for superior people are disdainful above all things. After these eligible gentlemen had been dismissed, came others of less worth, and at these too she mocked. "Why," said she, "I would not bemean myself to open the door to such. They must think me very anxious to be married. Thank Heaven my single state causes me no regrets."

Once there was a man who loved himself very much, and who permitted himself no rivals in that love. He thought his face and figure the handsomest in all the world. Anything in the shape of a mirror that could show him his own likeness he took care to avoid; for he did not want to be reminded that perhaps he was over-rating his beauty. For this reason he hated looking-glasses and accused them of being false. He made a very great mistake in this respect; but that he did not mind, being quite content to live in the happiness the mistake afforded him. To cure him of so grievous an error, officious Fate managed matters in such a way that wherever he turned his eyes they would fall on one of those mute little counsellors that ladies carry and appeal to when they are anxious about their appearance. He found mirrors in the houses; mirrors in the shops; mirrors in the pockets of gallants; mirrors even as ornaments on waist-belts of ladies. What was he to do - this poor Narcissus? He thought to avoid all such things by going far away from haunts of mankind, where he should never have to face a mirror again. But in the woods to which he retreated a clear rivulet ran. Into this he happened to look and - saw himself again. Angrily he told himself that his eyes had been deluded by an idle fancy. Henceforth he would keep away from the water! This he tried his utmost to do; but who can resist the beauty of a woodland stream? There he was and remained, always with that which he had determined to shun.

To M. The Duke De La Rochefoucauld. A man, who had no rivals in the love Which to himself he bore,

[1] 'You villain!' cried a man who found An adder coil'd upon the ground,

[1] Impertinent, we tease and weary Heaven With prayers which would insult mere mortals even.

[1] A pagan kept a god of wood, - A sort that never hears,

A man of middle age, whose hair Was bordering on the grey, Began to turn his thoughts and care

Who does not run after Fortune? I would I were in some spot whence I could watch the eager crowds rushing from kingdom to kingdom in their vain chase after the daughter of Chance! They are indeed but faithful followers of a phantom; for when they think they have her, lo! she is gone! Poor wretches! One must pity rather than blame their foolishness. "That man," they say with sanguine voice, "raised cabbages; and now he is Pope! Are we not as good as he?" Ah! yes! a hundred times as good perhaps; but what of that? Fortune has no eyes for all your merit. Besides, is Papacy, after all, worth peace, which one must leave behind for it? Peace - a treasure that once was the possession of gods alone - is seldom granted to the votaries of Dame Fortune. Do not seek her; and then she will seek you. That is the way with women!

Who joins not with his restless race To give Dame Fortune eager chase? O, had I but some lofty perch,

FLORENTINE we now design to show; - A greater blockhead ne'er appeared below; It seems a prudent woman he had wed,

[1] Perhaps, had I but shown due loyalty, This book would have begun with royalty,

[1] Four voyagers to parts unknown, On shore, not far from naked, thrown

Beware of saying, 'Lend an ear,' To something marvellous or witty. To disappoint your friends who hear,

It is not always wise to say to your company, "Just listen to this joke" or "What do you think of this for a marvel?" for one can never be sure that the listeners will regard the matter in the same way that the teller does. Yet here is a case that makes an exception to this good rule, and I maintain that it is in truth wonderful, and, although it has the appearance of being a fable, it is in reality absolute fact. There was once an extremely old pine-tree which an owl, that grim bird which Atropus[1] takes for her interpreter, had made to serve as his palace. But there were other tenants lodging in its cavernous and time-rotted trunk. These were mice, well fed, positive balls of fat, but not one of them had a foot. They had all been mutilated. The owl had nipped their feet off with his beak, whilst feeding and fostering them with wheat from neighbouring stacks. It must be confessed that this bird had reasoned.

A pine was by a woodman fell'd, Which ancient, huge, and hollow tree An owl had for his palace held -

A Miller and Son once set out for the fair, To sell a fine ass they had brought up with care; And the way that they started made everyone stare.

[1] To M. De Maucroix.[2] Because the arts are plainly birthright matters,

[1] A man amass'd. The thing, we know, Doth often to a frenzy grow.

[1] 'Tis use that constitutes possession. I ask that sort of men, whose passion

[1] Long since, a Mogul saw, in dream, A vizier in Elysian bliss;

Bertrand was a monkey and Ratter was a cat. They shared the same dwelling and had the same master, and a pretty mischievous pair they were. It was impossible to intimidate them. If anything was missed or spoilt, no one thought of blaming the other people in the house. Bertrand stole all he could lay his hands upon, and as for Ratter, he gave more attention to cheese than he did to the mice. One day, in the chimney corner, these two rascals sat watching some chestnuts that were roasting before the fire. How jolly it would be to steal them they thought: doubly desirable, for it would not only be joy to themselves, but an annoyance to others. "Brother," said Bertrand to Ratter, "this day you shall achieve your master-stroke: you shall snatch some chestnuts out of the fire for me. Providence has not fitted me for that sort of game. If it had, I assure you chestnuts would have a fine time."

Jocko the Monkey, Mouser - his chum, the Cat, Had the same master. Both were sleek and fat, And mischievous. If anything went wrong,

Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) Co-servants and lodgers:

[1] It was the custom of the Greeks For passengers o'er sea to carry

[1] A monkey and a leopard were The rivals at a country fair.

TO you, my friends, allow me to detail, The feats of monks in Catalonia's vale, Where oft the holy fathers pow'rs displayed,

[1] A mountain was in travail pang; The country with her clamour rang.

[1] A mouse once from an owl's beak fell; I'd not have pick'd it up, I wis;

[1] A prelate's mule of noble birth was proud, And talk'd, incessantly and loud,

THE Lombard princes oft pervade my mind; The present tale Boccace relates you'll find; Agiluf was the noble monarch's name;

NO easy matter 'tis to hold, Against its owner's will, the fleece Who troubled by the itching smart

[1] The oak one day address'd the reed: - 'To you ungenerous indeed

To Monseigneur, The Duke De Bourgogne; Who Had Requested Of M. De La Fontaine A Fable Which Should Be Called "The Cat And The Mouse." To please a youthful prince, whom Fame A temple in my writings vows,

A young and inexperienced mouse Had faith to try a veteran cat, - Raminagrobis, death to rat,

[1] All power is feeble with dissension: For this I quote the Phrygian slave.[2]

[1] An old man, riding on his ass, Had found a spot of thrifty grass,

[1] A man was planting at fourscore. Three striplings, who their satchels wore,

OFT have I seen in wedlock with surprise, That most forgot from which true bliss would rise When marriage for a daughter is designed,

[1] A beldam kept two spinning maids, Who plied so handily their trades,

[1] That man his Maker can deceive, Is monstrous folly to believe.

Two pilgrims on the sand espied An oyster thrown up by the tide. In hope, both swallow'd ocean's fruit;

One day two pilgrims espied upon the sands of the shore an oyster that had been thrown up by the tide. They devoured it with their eyes whilst pointing at it with their fingers; but whose teeth should deal with it was a matter of dispute. When one stopped to pick up the prey the other pushed him away saying: "It would be just as well first to decide which of us is to have the pleasure of it. He who first saw it should swallow it, and let the other watch him eat." "If you settle the affair that way," replied his companion, "I have good eyes, thank God."

A FAMOUS painter, jealous of his wife; Whose charms he valued more than fame or life, When going on a journey used his art,

[1] With a set of uncivil and turbulent cocks, That deserved for their noise to be put in the stocks,

[1] A trading Greek, for want of law, Protection bought of a pashaw;

[1] The peacock[2] to the queen of heaven Complain'd in some such words: -

ONCE on a time, as hist'ry's page relates, A lord, possessed of many large estates, Was angry with a poor and humble clod,

[1] To judge no man by outside view, Is good advice, though not quite new.

SOLICITED I've been to give a tale, In which (though true, decorum must prevail), The subject from a picture shall arise,

THE simple Jane was sent to bring Fresh water from the neighb'ring spring; The matter pressed, no time to waste,

[1] The farmer's patient care and toil Are oftener wanting than the soil.

In the old, vain, and fickle city of Athens, an orator,[2] seeing how the light-hearted citizens were blind to certain dangers which threatened the state, presented himself before the tribune, and there sought, by the very tyranny of his forceful eloquence, to move the heart of the republic towards a sense of the common welfare. But the people neither heard nor heeded. Then the orator had recourse to more urgent arguments and stronger metaphors, potent enough to touch hearts of stone. He spoke in thunders that might have raised the dead; but his words were carried away on the wind. The beast of many heads[3] did not deign to hear the launching of these thunderbolts. It was engrossed in something quite different. A fight between two urchins was what the crowd found so engaging; not the orator's warnings. What then did the speaker do? He tried another plan. "Ceres," he began, "made a voyage one day with an eel and a swallow. After a time the three travellers were stopped by a river. This the eel got over by swimming and the swallow by flying - - "

To M. De Barillon.[1] Can diplomatic dignity To simple fables condescend?

There was a funeral. The dead body was progressing sadly towards its last resting place; and following rather gladly, was the priest who meant to bury it as soon as possible. The dead man, in a leaden coffin, was borne in a coach, and was properly shrouded in that robe the dead always wear be it summer or winter. As for the priest, he sat near it, intoning as hard as he could all sorts of orisons, psalms, lessons, verses, and responses, in the hope that the more he gave the more would be paid for. "Leave it to me, Mr. Deadman," his actions seemed to say. "I'll give you a nice selection; a little of everything. It's only a matter of fees, you know." And the Rev. John Crow kept his eye on his silent charge as if he expected some one would make off with it. "Mr. Deadman," his looks proclaimed, "by you I shall receive so and so much in money, so and so much in wax candles, and, possibly, a little more in incidental profits. On the strength of these calculations he promised himself a quarter-cask of the best wine the neighbourhood could offer. Beyond that he settled that a certain very attractive niece of his, as well as his housekeeper Paquette, should both have new dresses.

WHAT various ways in which a thing is told Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold; In stories we invention may admit;

DIVERTING in extreme there is a play, Which oft resumes its fascinating sway; Delights the sex, or ugly, fair, or sour;

ONCE more permit me, nuns, and this the last; I can't resist, whatever may have passed, But must relate, what often I've been told;

Discord has always reigned in the universe; of this our world furnishes a thousand different instances, for with us the sinister goddess has many subjects. Let us begin with the four elements. Here you may be astonished to observe that they are, throughout, in antagonism to each other. Besides these four potentates how many other forces of all descriptions are everlastingly at war! In bygone times there was a house which was full of cats and dogs who lived together like amicable cousins, for this reason: Their master had made a hundred irrevocable laws and rules, settling their respective tasks, their meals, and every other incident of their lives, and at the same time he threatened with the whip the first one who should promote a quarrel. The kindly, almostly brotherly nature of this union was very edifying to the neighbours.

Enthroned by an eternal law, Hath Discord reign'd throughout the universe. In proof, I might from this our planet draw

In mansion deck'd with frieze and column, Dwelt dogs and cats in multitudes; Decrees, promulged in manner solemn,

DAME FORTUNE often loves a laugh to raise, And, playing off her tricks and roguish ways, Instead of giving us what we desire,

When I have noticed how man acts at times, and how, in a thousand ways, he comports himself just as the lower animals do, I have often said to myself that the lord of these lower orders has no fewer faults than his subjects. Nature has allowed every living thing a drop or two from the fount at which the spirits of all creatures imbibe. I will prove what I say.

[1] An Address To The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.[2] While watching man in all his phases,

An uncommonly small rat was watching an uncommonly big elephant and sneering at the slowness of his steps. The enormous animal was heavily laden. On his back rose a three-storied howdah, wherein were accommodated a celebrated sultana, her dog, her cat, her monkey, her parrot, her old servant, and all her household. They were going upon a pilgrimage. The rat wondered why all the people should express astonishment at seeing this enormous bulk - "As if the fact of occupying more or less space implied that one was the more or less important accordingly! What is it you admire in him, you men? If it is only the weight of his body which fills the children with terror, then we rats, small as we are, consider ourselves not one grain less than the elephant." He would have said more; but the cat, bounding out of her cage, let him see in an instant that a rat is not an elephant.

One's own importance to enhance, Inspirited by self-esteem, Is quite a common thing in France;

[1] A country rat, of little brains, Grown weary of inglorious rest,

The ancients had a legend which told of a certain rat who, weary of the anxieties of this world, retired to a cheese, therein to live in peace. Profound solitude reigned around the hermit. He worked so hard with his feet and his teeth that in a few days he had a spacious dwelling and food in plenty. What more could he desire? He thrived well, growing large and fat. Blessings are showered upon those who are vowed to simplicity and renunciation! One day a deputation from Rat-land waited upon him, begging that out of his abundance he would grant a slight dole towards fitting out a journey to a strange country where the rats hoped to get succour in their great war against the cat-tribe. Ratopolis was besieged, and owing to the poverty of the beleaguered republic they were forced to start with empty wallets. They asked but little, believing that in a few days help would arrive. "My friends," said the hermit, "earthly affairs no longer concern me. In what way could a poor recluse assist you? What could he do but pray for the help you need! My best hopes and wishes you may be assured of." With these words this latest among the saints shut his door. Whom have I in mind, do you think, when I speak of this rat, so sparing of his help? A monk? - Oh, no! A dervish rather, for a monk, I suppose, is at all times charitable.

The sage Levantines have a tale About a rat that weary grew Of all the cares which life assail,

A rat, of quite the smallest size, Fix'd on an elephant his eyes, And jeer'd the beast of high descent

Mr. Raven was perched upon a limb, And Reynard the Fox looked up at him; For the Raven held in his great big beak

An Eagle swooped from out the sky, And carried off a sheep. A Raven seeing him, said: "I

[1] The bird of Jove bore off a mutton, A raven being witness.

[1] To Madame De La Sabli're.[2] A temple I reserved you in my rhyme:

NO city I to Rheims would e'er prefer: Of France the pride and honour I aver; The Holy Ampoule * and delicious wine,

I'M now disposed to give a pretty tale; Love laughs at what I've sworn and will prevail; Men, gods, and all, his mighty influence know,

[1] Within a savage forest grot A satyr and his chips

A youngster, who was doubly foolish and doubly a rogue - in which perhaps he savoured of the school he went to - was given, they say, to robbing a neighbour's garden of its fruit and flowers. This may have been because he was too young to know better, and perhaps because teachers do not always mould the minds of young people in the right way. The owner of the garden boasted in each season the very best of what was due. In spring he could show the most delightful blossoms and in autumn the very pick of all the apples. One day he espied this schoolboy carelessly climbing a fruit tree and knocking off the buds, those sweet and fragile forerunners of promised fruit in abundance. The urchin even broke off a bough, and did so much other damage that the owner sent a message of complaint to the boy's schoolmaster. This worthy soon appeared, and behind him a tribe of the scholars, who swarmed into the orchard and began behaving worse than the first one. The schoolmaster's plan in thus aggravating the injury was really to make an opportunity for delivering them all a good lesson, which they should remember all their lives. He quoted Virgil and Cicero; he made many scientific allusions and ran his discourse to such a length that the little wretches were able to get all over the garden and despoil it in a hundred places.

A boy who savour'd of his school, - A double rogue and double fool, - By youth and by the privilege

Once a sculptor who saw for sale a block of marble was so struck with its beauty that he could not resist the temptation to buy it. When it was in his studio he thought to himself, "Now what shall my chisel make of it? Shall it be a god, a table, or a basin? It shall be a god. And I, myself, shall ordain that the god shall poise a thunderbolt in his hand. So tremble, mortals, and worship! Behold the lord of the earth!" The artist set to work and expressed so powerfully the attributes of the god that those who saw it averred that it only lacked speech to be Jupiter himself. It is said that the sculptor had scarcely completed the statue when he became so overawed as to fear and tremble before the work of his own hands. The poet of old, likewise, greatly dreaded the hate and the wrath of the gods he himself created: a weakness which left little to choose between him and the sculptor.

A block of marble was so fine, To buy it did a sculptor hasten. 'What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine -

A certain austere philosopher of Scythia, wishing to follow a pleasant life, travelled through the land of the Greeks, and there he found in a quiet spot a sage, one such as Virgil has written of; a man the equal of kings, the peer almost of the gods, and like them content and tranquil. The happiness of this sage lay entirely in his beautiful garden. There the Scythian found him, pruning hook in hand, cutting away the useless wood from his fruit trees; lopping here, pruning there, trimming this and that, and everywhere aiding Nature, who repaid his care with usury. "Why this wrecking?" asked the philosopher. "Is it wisdom thus to mutilate these poor dwellers in your garden? Drop that merciless tool, your pruning hook. Leave the work to the scythe of time. He will send them, soon enough, to the shores of the river of the departed."

A Scythian philosopher austere, Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer, Perform'd the tour of Greece, saw many things,

[1] A serpent, neighbour to a smith, (A neighbour bad to meddle with,)

BOCCACE alone is not my only source; T'another shop I now shall have recourse; Though, certainly, this famed Italian wit

A shepherd, with a single dog, Was ask'd the reason why He kept a dog, whose least supply

[1] 'What! shall I lose them one by one, This stupid coward throng?

[1] Two demons at their pleasure share our being - The cause of Reason from her homestead fleeing;

[1] Of fables judge not by their face; They give the simplest brute a teacher's place.

[1] A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, Lived with his flock contentedly.

The Fable 'sop tells is nearly this: - A shepherd from his flock began to miss, And long'd to catch the stealer of, his sheep.

EXAMPLE often proves of sov'reign use; At other times it cherishes abuse; 'Tis not my purpose, howsoe'er, to tell

[1] Sick in his den, we understand, The king of beasts sent out command

[1] A stag, where stags abounded, Fell sick, and was surrounded

I LATELY vowed to leave the nuns alone, So oft their freaks have in my page been shown. The subject may at length fatigue the mind;

[1] 'O Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, By odd obstetrics freed from pain,

[1] A stag, by favour of a vine, Which grew where suns most genial shine,

[1] Beside a placid, crystal flood, A stag admired the branching wood

[1] Rejoicing on their tyrant's wedding-day, The people drown'd their care in drink;

[1] Long from the monarch of the stars The daughters of the mud received

By voyages in air, With constant thought and care, Much knowledge had a swallow gain'd,

[1] The pleasures of a poultry yard Were by a swan and gosling shared.

Two thieves, pursuing their profession, Had of a donkey got possession, Whereon a strife arose,

AS o'er their wine one day, three gossips sat, Discoursing various pranks in pleasant chat, Each had a loving friend, and two of these

With mighty rush and roar, Adown a mountain steep A torrent tumbled, - swelling o'er

[1] A light-brain'd tortoise, anciently, Tired of her hole, the world would see.

[1] A man whose credit fail'd, and what was worse, Who lodged the devil in his purse, -

THE change of food enjoyment is to man; In this, t'include the woman is my plan. I cannot guess why Rome will not allow

[1] No flowery path to glory leads. This truth no better voucher needs

Two asses tracking, t'other day, Of which each in his turn, Did incense to the other burn,

[1] Two bulls engaged in shocking battle, Both for a certain heifer's sake,

[1] Two cocks in peace were living, when A war was kindled by a hen.

[1] The Virtues should be sisters, hand in hand, Since banded brothers all the Vices stand:

Two lean and hungry mastiffs once espied A dead ass floating on a water wide. The distance growing more and more,

Two doves once cherish'd for each other The love that brother hath for brother. But one, of scenes domestic tiring,

AXIOCHUS, a handsome youth of old, And Alcibiades, (both gay and bold,) So well agreed, they kept a beauteous belle,

[1] Two friends, in Monomotapa, Had all their interests combined.

[1] Since goats have browsed, by freedom fired, To follow fortune they've aspired.

Two goats, who self-emancipated, - The white that on their feet they wore Look'd back to noble blood of yore, -

There were two heavily-laden mules making a journey together. One was carrying oats and the other bore a parcel of silver money collected from the people as a tax upon salt. This, we learn, was a tax which produced much money for the government, but it bore very hard upon the people, who revolted many times against it. The mule that carried the silver was very proud of his burden, and would not have been relieved of it if he could. As he stepped out he took care that the bells upon his harness should jingle well as became a mule of so much importance. Suddenly a band of robbers burst into the road, pounced upon the treasure mule, seized it by the bridle, and stopped it short. Struggling to defend itself the unhappy creature groaned and sighed as it cried: "Is this then the fate that has been in store for me: that I must fall and perish whilst my fellow traveller escapes free from danger?"

Two mules were bearing on their backs, One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.[1] The latter glorying in his load,

[1] Two parrots lived, a sire and son, On roastings from a royal fire.

Do not take it ill if, in these fables, I mingle a little of the bold, daring, and fine-spun philosophy that is called new. They say that the lower animals are mere machines: that everything they do is prompted, not by choice, but by mechanism, coming about as it were by springs. There is, they say, neither feeling nor soul - nothing but a mechanical body. It goes just as a watch or clock goes, plodding on with even motion, blindly and aimlessly. Open such a machine and examine it; what do we find? Wheels take the place of intelligence. The first wheel moves the second, and that in turn moves a third, with the result that, in due time, it strikes the hour.

Address to Madame de la Sabli're.[1] You, Iris, 'twere an easy task to praise; But you refuse the incense of my lays.

Two rats in foraging fell on an egg, - For gentry such as they A genteel dinner every way;

If goodness were always the comrade of beauty I would seek a wife to-morrow; but as divorce between these two is no new thing, and as there are so few lovely forms that enshrine lovely souls, thus uniting both one and the other delight, do not take it amiss that I refrain from seeking such a rare combination. I have seen many marriages, but not one of them has held out allurements for me. Nevertheless, nearly the whole four quarters of mankind courageously expose themselves to this the greatest of all hazards, and - the whole four quarters usually repent it. I will tell you of one who, having repented, found that there was nothing for it but to send home again his quarrelsome, avaricious, and jealous spouse. She was one whom nothing pleased; for her, nothing was right. For her, one rose too late; one retired too early. First it was this, then it was that, and then again 'twas something else. The servants raged. The husband was at his wit's end. "You think of nothing, sir." "You spend too much." "You gad about, sir." "You are idle." Indeed she had so much to say that, in the end, tired of hearing such a termagant, he sent her to her parents in the country. There she mixed with those who minded the turkeys and pigs until she was thought to be somewhat tamed, when the husband sent for her again.

[1] Between two citizens A controversy grew.

[1] Mars once made havoc in the air: Some cause aroused a quarrel there

From heaven, one day, did Jupiter proclaim, 'Let all that live before my throne appear, And there if any one hath aught to blame,

[1] From bowers of gods the bees came down to man. On Mount Hymettus,[2] first, they say,

[1] A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, (She was recovering from disease,)

[1] If what old story says of Aesop's true, The oracle of Greece he was,

When the Great Mogul held empire, there were certain little sprites who used to undertake all sorts of tasks helpful to mankind. They would do housework, stable-work, and even gardening. But if one interfered with them, all would be spoilt. One of these friendly sprites cultivated the garden of a worthy family living near the Ganges. His duties were performed deftly and noiselessly. He loved not only his master and mistress, but the garden also. Possibly the zephyrs, who are said to be friends of the sprites, helped him in his tasks. At any rate he did his very best, and never ceased in his efforts to load his hosts with every pleasure. To prove his zeal he would have stayed with these people for ever, in spite of the natural propensity of his kind for waywardness. But his mischievous fellow-sprites fell to plotting. They induced the chief of their band to remove him to another field of labour. This the chief promised and, either by caprice or by policy, finally brought about. Orders came that the devoted worker should set out for the uttermost part of Norway, there to take charge of a house which at all times of the year was covered with snow. So from being an Indian, the poor thing became a Laplander. "I am forced to leave you," he said to his hosts, "but for what fault of mine this has come to pass I cannot tell. I only know that go I must, and in a very little while too; a month perhaps, or maybe only a week. Make the most of the interval. Fortunately, I can fulfil three wishes for you; but not more than three."

Within the Great Mogul's domains there are Familiar sprites of much domestic use: They sweep the house, and take a tidy care

[1] A wolf, affirming his belief That he had suffer'd by a thief,

A prowling wolf, whose shaggy skin (So strict the watch of dogs had been) Hid little but his bones,

A fox once remarked to a wolf, "Dear friend, do you know that the utmost I can get for my meals is a tough old cock or perchance a lean hen or two. It is a diet of which I am thoroughly weary. You, on the other hand, feed much better than that, and with far less danger. My foraging takes me close up to houses; but you keep far away. I beg of you, comrade, to teach me your trade. Let me be the first of my race to furnish my pot with a plump sheep, and you will not find me ungrateful." "Very well," replied the obliging wolf. "I have a brother recently dead, suppose you go and get his skin and wear it." This the fox accordingly did and the wolf commenced to give him lessons. "You must do this and act so, when you wish to separate the dogs from the flocks." At first Reynard was a little awkward, but he rapidly improved, and with a little practice he reached at last the perfection of wolfish strategy. Just as he had learned all that there was to know a flock approached. The sham wolf ran after it spreading terror all around, even as Patroclus wearing[1] the armour of Achilles spread alarm throughout camp and city, when mothers, wives, and old men hastened to the temples for protection. "In this case, the bleating army made sure there must be quite fifty wolves after them, and fled, dog and shepherd with them, to the neighbouring village, leaving only one sheep as a hostage. This remaining sheep our thief instantly seized and was making off with it. But he had not gone more than a few steps when a cock crew near by. At this signal, which habit of life had led him to regard as a warning of dawn and danger, he dropped his disguising wolf-skin and, forgetting his sheep, his lesson, and his master, scampered off with a will.

Why does 'sop give to the fox the reputation of excelling in all tricks of cunning? I have sought for a reason, but cannot find one. Does not the wolf, when he has need to defend his life or take that of another, display as much knowingness as the fox? I believe he knows more, and I dare, perhaps with some reason, to contradict my master in this particular. Nevertheless, here is a case where undoubtedly all the honour fell to the dweller in burrows. One evening a fox, who was as hungry as a dog, happened to see the round reflection of the moon in a well, and he believed it to be a fine cheese. There were two pails which alternately drew up the water. Into the uppermost of these the fox leapt, and his weight caused him to descend the well, where he at once discovered his mistake about the cheese. He became extremely worried and fancied his end approaching, for he could see no way to get up again but by some other hungry one, enticed by the same reflection, coming down in the same way that he had.

Whence comes it that there liveth not A man contented with his lot? Here's one who would a soldier be,

[1] Thou lust of gain, - foul fiend, whose evil eyes Regard as nought the blessings of the skies,

That innocence is not a shield, A story teaches, not the longest. The strongest reasons always yield

[1] A troutling, some time since, Endeavour'd vainly to convince

[1] A Wolf, replete With humanity sweet,

[1] The wolves are prone to play the glutton. One, at a certain feast, 'tis said,

[1] A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks Began to be but few,

"Dear wolf," complain'd a hungry fox, "A lean chick's meat, or veteran cock's, Is all I get by toil or trick:

[1] As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, And browse the herbage of a distant hill,

[1] This wolf another brings to mind, Who found dame Fortune more unkind,

[1] By-gone a thousand years of war, The wearers of the fleece

[1] I hate that saying, old and savage, "'Tis nothing but a woman drowning."

[1] There's nothing like a secret weighs; Too heavy 'tis for women tender;

[1] To M. The Chevalier De Bouillon.[2] Your taste has served my work to guide;

A man that labour'd in the wood Had lost his honest livelihood; That is to say,

A certain wood-chopper lost or broke From his axe's eye a bit of oak. The forest must needs be somewhat spared

[1] A house was built by Socrates That failed the public taste to please.

[1] A husband's death brings always sighs; The widow sobs, sheds tears - then dries.

A shepherd who was deeply in love with a shepherdess was sitting one day by her side trying to find words to express the emotions her charms created in his breast. "Ah! Amaranth, dear," he sighed, "could you but feel, as I do, a certain pain which, whilst it tears the heart, is so delightful that it enchants, you would say that nothing under heaven is its equal. Let me tell you of it. Believe me, trust me. Would I deceive you? You, for whom I am filled with the tenderest sentiments the heart can feel!" "And what, my Thyrsis, is the name you give this pleasing pain?"

For Mademoiselle De Sillery.[1] I had the Phrygian quit, Charm'd with Italian wit;[2]

[1] The apologue[2] is from the immortal gods; Or, if the gift of man it is,

I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line, Whose tale, though false when strictly we define, Containeth truths it were not ill to teach.

JOHN courts Perrette; but all in vain; Love's sweetest oaths, and tears, and sighs All potent spells her heart to gain