Fables of La Fontaine Part 20

Is this the way they change their metre?

And do they take me for a fool?

Some day, a nutting in the wood, That young one yet shall be my food.'

But little time has he to dote On such a feast; the dogs rush out And seize the caitiff by the throat; And country ditchers, thick and stout, With rustic spears and forks of iron, The hapless animal environ.

'What brought you here, old head?' cried one.

He told it all, as I have done.

'Why, bless my soul!' the frantic mother said,-- 'You, villain, eat my little son!

And did I nurse the darling boy, Your fiendish appet.i.te to cloy?'

With that they knock'd him on the head.

His feet and scalp they bore to town, To grace the seigneur's hall, Where, pinn'd against the wall, This verse completed his renown:-- "Ye honest wolves, believe not all That mothers say, when children squall!"

[21] Aesop; and others.

XVII.--THE WORDS OF SOCRATES.[22]

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

Some blamed the inside; some, the out; and all Agreed that the apartments were too small.

Such rooms for him, the greatest sage of Greece!

'I ask,' said he, 'no greater bliss Than real friends to fill e'en this.'

And reason had good Socrates To think his house too large for these.

A crowd to be your friends will claim, Till some unhandsome test you bring.

There's nothing plentier than the name; There's nothing rarer than the thing.

[22] Phaedrus, III. 9.

XVIII.--THE OLD MAN AND HIS SONS.[23]

All power is feeble with dissension: For this I quote the Phrygian slave.[24]

If aught I add to his invention, It is our manners to engrave, And not from any envious wishes;-- I'm not so foolishly ambitious.

Phaedrus enriches oft his story, In quest--I doubt it not--of glory: Such thoughts were idle in my breast.

An aged man, near going to his rest, His gather'd sons thus solemnly address'd:-- 'To break this bunch of arrows you may try; And, first, the string that binds them I untie.'

The eldest, having tried with might and main, Exclaim'd, 'This bundle I resign To muscles st.u.r.dier than mine.'

The second tried, and bow'd himself in vain.

The youngest took them with the like success.

All were obliged their weakness to confess.

Unharm'd the arrows pa.s.s'd from son to son; Of all they did not break a single one.

'Weak fellows!' said their sire, 'I now must show What in the case my feeble strength can do.'

They laugh'd, and thought their father but in joke, Till, one by one, they saw the arrows broke.

'See, concord's power!' replied the sire; 'as long As you in love agree, you will be strong.

I go, my sons, to join our fathers good; Now promise me to live as brothers should, And soothe by this your dying father's fears.'

Each strictly promised with a flood of tears.

Their father took them by the hand, and died; And soon the virtue of their vows was tried.

Their sire had left a large estate Involved in lawsuits intricate; Here seized a creditor, and there A neighbour levied for a share.

At first the trio n.o.bly bore The brunt of all this legal war.

But short their friendship as 'twas rare.

Whom blood had join'd--and small the wonder!-- The force of interest drove asunder; And, as is wont in such affairs, Ambition, envy, were co-heirs.

In parcelling their sire's estate, They quarrel, quibble, litigate, Each aiming to supplant the other.

The judge, by turns, condemns each brother.

Their creditors make new a.s.sault, Some pleading error, some default.

The sunder'd brothers disagree; For counsel one, have counsels three.

All lose their wealth; and now their sorrows Bring fresh to mind those broken arrows.

[23] Aesop, Avia.n.u.s, and others.

[24] _Phrygan slave._--Aesop. See Translator's Preface.

XIX.--THE ORACLE AND THE ATHEIST.[25]

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

The labyrinthine mazes of the heart Are open to His eyes in every part.

Whatever one may do, or think, or feel, From Him no darkness can the thing conceal.

A pagan once, of graceless heart and hollow, Whose faith in G.o.ds, I'm apprehensive, Was quite as real as expensive.

Consulted, at his shrine, the G.o.d Apollo.

'Is what I hold alive, or not?'

Said he,--a sparrow having brought, Prepared to wring its neck, or let it fly, As need might be, to give the G.o.d the lie.

Apollo saw the trick, And answer'd quick, 'Dead or alive, show me your sparrow, And cease to set for me a trap Which can but cause yourself mishap.

I see afar, and far I shoot my arrow.'

[25] Aesop.

XX.--THE MISER WHO HAD LOST HIS TREASURE.[26]

'Tis use that const.i.tutes possession.

I ask that sort of men, whose pa.s.sion It is to get and never spend, Of all their toil what is the end?

What they enjoy of all their labours Which do not equally their neighbours?

Throughout this upper mortal strife, The miser leads a beggar's life.

Old Aesop's man of hidden treasure May serve the case to demonstrate.

He had a great estate, But chose a second life to wait Ere he began to taste his pleasure.

This man, whom gold so little bless'd, Was not possessor, but possess'd.

His cash he buried under ground, Where only might his heart be found; It being, then, his sole delight To ponder of it day and night, And consecrate his rusty pelf, A sacred offering, to himself.

In all his eating, drinking, travel, Most wondrous short of funds he seem'd; One would have thought he little dream'd Where lay such sums beneath the gravel.

A ditcher mark'd his coming to the spot, So frequent was it, And thus at last some little inkling got Of the deposit.

He took it all, and babbled not.

One morning, ere the dawn, Forth had our miser gone To worship what he loved the best, When, lo! he found an empty nest!

Alas! what groaning, wailing, crying!

What deep and bitter sighing!

His torment makes him tear Out by the roots his hair.

A pa.s.senger demandeth why Such marvellous outcry.

'They've got my gold! it's gone--it's gone!'