Fables of La Fontaine Part 31

If I recall you in my life, Or even wish for such a wife, Let Heaven, in my hereafter, send Two such, to tease me without end!'

[5] The badinage of La Fontaine having been misunderstood, the translator has altered the introduction to this fable. The intention of the fable is to recommend prudence and good nature, not celibacy.

So the peerless Granville understands it, for his pencil tells us that the hero of the fable did finally recall his wife, notwithstanding his fearful imprecation. It seems that even she was better than none.--Translator; (in his sixth edition).

III.--THE RAT RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.

The sage Levantines have a tale About a rat that weary grew Of all the cares which life a.s.sail, And to a Holland cheese withdrew.

His solitude was there profound, Extending through his world so round.

Our hermit lived on that within; And soon his industry had been With claws and teeth so good, That in his novel hermitage, He had in store, for wants of age, Both house and livelihood.

What more could any rat desire?

He grew fair, fat, and round.

'G.o.d's blessings thus redound To those who in His vows retire.'[6]

One day this personage devout, Whose kindness none might doubt, Was ask'd, by certain delegates That came from Rat-United-States, For some small aid, for they To foreign parts were on their way, For succour in the great cat-war.

Ratopolis beleaguer'd sore, Their whole republic drain'd and poor, No morsel in their scrips they bore.

Slight boon they craved, of succour sure In days at utmost three or four.

'My friends,' the hermit said, 'To worldly things I'm dead.

How can a poor recluse To such a mission be of use?

What can he do but pray That G.o.d will aid it on its way?

And so, my friends, it is my prayer That G.o.d will have you in his care.'

His well-fed saintship said no more, But in their faces shut the door.

What think you, reader, is the service For which I use this n.i.g.g.ard rat?

To paint a monk? No, but a dervise.

A monk, I think, however fat, Must be more bountiful than that.

[6] _G.o.d's blessing, &c_.--So the rat himself professed to consider the matter.--Translator.

IV.--THE HERON.[7]

One day,--no matter when or where,-- A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare By a certain river's brink, With his long, sharp beak Helved on his slender neck; 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think.

The water was clear and still, The carp and the pike there at will Pursued their silent fun, Turning up, ever and anon, A golden side to the sun.

With ease might the heron have made Great profits in his fishing trade.

So near came the scaly fry, They might be caught by the pa.s.ser-by.

But he thought he better might Wait for a better appet.i.te-- For he lived by rule, and could not eat, Except at his hours, the best of meat.

Anon his appet.i.te return'd once more; So, approaching again the sh.o.r.e, He saw some tench taking their leaps, Now and then, from their lowest deeps.

With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, He turn'd away from such food as that.

'What, tench for a heron! poh!

I scorn the thought, and let them go.'

The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; 'For all that,' said the bird, 'I budge on.

I'll ne'er open my beak, if the G.o.ds please, For such mean little fishes as these.'

He did it for less; For it came to pa.s.s, That not another fish could he see; And, at last, so hungry was he, That he thought it of some avail To find on the bank a single snail.

Such is the sure result Of being too difficult.

Would you be strong and great, Learn to accommodate.

Get what you can, and trust for the rest; The whole is oft lost by seeking the best.

Above all things beware of disdain; Where, at most, you have little to gain.

The people are many that make Every day this sad mistake.

'Tis not for the herons I put this case, Ye featherless people, of human race.

--List to another tale as true, And you'll hear the lesson brought home to you.[8]

[7] Abstemius.

[8] _The lesson brought home to you_. The two last lines refer the reader to the next fable.

V.--THE MAID.[9]

A certain maid, as proud as fair, A husband thought to find Exactly to her mind-- Well-form'd and young, genteel in air, Not cold nor jealous;--mark this well.

Whoe'er would wed this dainty belle Must have, besides rank, wealth, and wit, And all good qualities to fit-- A man 'twere difficult to get.

Kind Fate, however, took great care To grant, if possible, her prayer.

There came a-wooing men of note; The maiden thought them all, By half, too mean and small.

'They marry me! the creatures dote:-- Alas! poor souls! their case I pity.'

(Here mark the bearing of the beauty.) Some were less delicate than witty; Some had the nose too short or long; In others something else was wrong; Which made each in the maiden's eyes An altogether worthless prize.

Profound contempt is aye the vice Which springs from being over-nice, Thus were the great dismiss'd; and then Came offers from inferior men.

The maid, more scornful than before, Took credit to her tender heart For giving then an open door.

'They think me much in haste to part With independence! G.o.d be thank'd My lonely nights bring no regret; Nor shall I pine, or greatly fret, Should I with ancient maids be rank'd.'

Such were the thoughts that pleased the fair: Age made them only thoughts that were.

Adieu to lovers:--pa.s.sing years Awaken doubts and chilling fears.

Regret, at last, brings up the train.

Day after day she sees, with pain, Some smile or charm take final flight, And leave the features of a 'fright.'

Then came a hundred sorts of paint: But still no trick, nor ruse, nor feint, Avail'd to hide the cause of grief, Or bar out Time, that graceless thief.

A house, when gone to wreck and ruin, May be repair'd and made a new one.

Alas! for ruins of the face No such rebuilding e'er takes place.

Her daintiness now changed its tune; Her mirror told her, 'Marry soon!'

So did a certain wish within, With more of secrecy than sin,-- A wish that dwells with even prudes, Annihilating solitudes.

This maiden's choice was past belief, She soothing down her restless grief, And smoothing it of every ripple, By marrying a cripple.

[9] This fable should be read in conjunction with the foregoing one.

VI.--THE WISHES.

Within the Great Mogul's domains there are Familiar sprites of much domestic use: They sweep the house, and take a tidy care Of equipage, nor garden work refuse; But, if you meddle with their toil, The whole, at once, you're sure to spoil.

One, near the mighty Ganges flood, The garden of a burgher good Work'd noiselessly and well; To master, mistress, garden, bore A love that time and toil outwore, And bound him like a spell.

Did friendly zephyrs blow, The demon's pains to aid?

(For so they do, 'tis said.) I own I do not know.

But for himself he rested not, And richly bless'd his master's lot.

What mark'd his strength of love, He lived a fixture on the place, In spite of tendency to rove So natural to his race.

But brother sprites conspiring With importunity untiring, So teased their goblin chief, that he, Of his caprice, or policy, Our sprite commanded to attend A house in Norway's farther end, Whose roof was snow-clad through the year, And shelter'd human kind with deer.

Before departing to his hosts Thus spake this best of busy ghosts:-- 'To foreign parts I'm forced to go!

For what sad fault I do not know;-- But go I must; a month's delay, Or week's perhaps, and I'm away.

Seize time; three wishes make at will; For three I'm able to fulfil-- No more.' Quick at their easy task, Abundance first these wishers ask-- Abundance, with her stores unlock'd-- Barns, coffers, cellars, larder, stock'd-- Corn, cattle, wine, and money,-- The overflow of milk and honey.