A Hundred Fables of La Fontaine Part 6

"I beg your pardon," said the bat; "My kind is very far from that.

What! I a mouse! Who told you such a lie?

Why, ma'am, I am a bird; And, if you doubt my word, Just see the wings with which I fly.

Long live the mice that cleave the sky!"

These reasons had so fair a show, The weasel let the creature go.

By some strange fancy led, The same wise blunderhead, But two or three days later, Had chosen for her rest Another weasel's nest, This last, of birds a special hater.

New peril brought this step absurd: Without a moment's thought or puzzle, Dame weasel opened her peaked muzzle To eat th' intruder as a bird.

"Hold! do not wrong me," cried the bat; "I'm truly no such thing as that.

Your eyesight strange conclusions gathers.

What makes a bird, I pray? Its feathers.

I'm cousin of the mice and rats.

Great Jupiter confound the cats!"

The bat, by such adroit replying, Twice saved herself from dying.

_And many a human stranger_ _Thus turns his coat in danger;_ _And sings, as suits, where'er he goes,_ _"G.o.d save the king!"--or "save his foes!"_

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BAT AND THE TWO WEASELS.]

The Bird wounded by an Arrow.

A bird, with plumed arrow shot, In dying case deplored her lot: "Alas!" she cried, "the anguish of the thought!

This ruin partly by myself was brought!

Hard-hearted men! from us to borrow What wings to us the fatal arrow!

But mock us not, ye cruel race, For you must often take our place."

_The work of half the human brothers_ _Is making arms against the others._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BIRD WOUNDED BY AN ARROW.]

The Lion and the Gnat.

"Go, paltry insect, nature's meanest brat!"

Thus said the royal lion to the gnat.

The gnat declared immediate war.

"Think you," said he, "your royal name To me worth caring for?

Think you I tremble at your power or fame?

The ox is bigger far than you; Yet him I drive, and all his crew."

This said, as one that did no fear owe, Himself he blew the battle charge, Himself both trumpeter and hero.

At first he play'd about at large, Then on the lion's neck, at leisure, settled, And there the royal beast full sorely nettled.

With foaming mouth, and flashing eye, He roars. All creatures hide or fly,-- Such mortal terror at The work of one poor gnat!

With constant change of his attack, The snout now stinging, now the back, And now the chambers of the nose; The pigmy fly no mercy shows.

The lion's rage was at its height; His viewless foe now laugh'd outright, When on his battle-ground he saw, That every savage tooth and claw Had got its proper beauty By doing b.l.o.o.d.y duty; Himself, the hapless lion, tore his hide, And lash'd with sounding tail from side to side.

Ah! bootless blow, and bite, and curse!

He beat the harmless air, and worse; For, though so fierce and stout, By effort wearied out, He fainted, fell, gave up the quarrel; The gnat retires with verdant laurel.

_We often have the most to fear_ _From those we most despise;_ _Again, great risks a man may clear,_ _Who by the smallest dies._

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

The a.s.s Loaded with Sponges.

A man, whom I shall call an a.s.s-eteer, His sceptre like some Roman emperor bearing, Drove on two coursers of protracted ear, The one, with sponges laden, briskly faring; The other lifting legs As if he trod on eggs, With constant need of goading, And bags of salt for loading.

O'er hill and dale our merry pilgrims pa.s.s'd, Till, coming to a river's ford at last, They stopp'd quite puzzled on the sh.o.r.e.

Our a.s.seteer had cross'd the stream before; So, on the lighter beast astride, He drives the other, spite of dread, Which, loath indeed to go ahead, Into a deep hole turns aside, And, facing right about, Where he went in, comes out; For duckings, two or three Had power the salt to melt, So that the creature felt His burden'd shoulders free.

The sponger, like a sequent sheep, Pursuing through the water deep, Into the same hole plunges Himself, his rider, and the sponges.

All three drank deeply: a.s.seteer and a.s.s For boon companions of their load might pa.s.s; Which last became so sore a weight, The a.s.s fell down, Belike to drown His rider risking equal fate.

A helper came, no matter who.

_The moral needs no more ado--_ _That all can't act alike,--_ _The point I wish'd to strike._

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE a.s.s LOADED WITH SPONGES.]

The Dove and the Ant.

A dove came to a brook to drink, When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, An ant fell in, and vainly tried, In this, to her, an ocean tide, To reach the land; whereat the dove, With every living thing in love, Was prompt a spire of gra.s.s to throw her, By which the ant regain'd the sh.o.r.e.

A barefoot scamp, both mean and sly, Soon after chanced this dove to spy; And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, The hungry codger doubted not The bird of Venus, in his pot, Would make a soup before the morrow.

Just as his deadly bow he drew, Our ant just bit his heel.

Roused by the villain's squeal, The dove took timely hint, and flew Far from the rascal's coop;-- And with her flew his soup.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DOVE AND THE ANT.]

The c.o.c.k and the Fox.

Upon a tree there mounted guard A veteran c.o.c.k, adroit and cunning; When to the roots a fox up running, Spoke thus, in tones of kind regard:-- "Our quarrel, brother, 's at an end; Henceforth I hope to live your friend; For peace now reigns Throughout the animal domains.

I bear the news:--come down, I pray, And give me the embrace fraternal; And please, my brother, don't delay.

So much the tidings do concern all, That I must spread them far to-day.

Now you and yours can take your walks Without a fear or thought of hawks.

And should you clash with them or others, In us you'll find the best of brothers;-- For which you may, this joyful night, Your merry bonfires light.