Fables of La Fontaine Part 38

Said he, 'no meat was ever fatter, Or in its flavour half so fine, As that on which to-day I dine.'

Thus full of hope, the foolish chap Thrust in his head to taste, And felt the pinching of a trap-- The oyster closed in haste.

We're first instructed, by this case, That those to whom the world is new Are wonder-struck at every view; And, in the second place, That the marauder finds his match, And he is caught who thinks to catch.

[14] Abstemius; also Aesop.

X.--THE BEAR AND THE AMATEUR GARDENER.[15]

A certain mountain bear, unlick'd and rude, By fate confined within a lonely wood, A new Bellerophon,[16] whose life, Knew neither comrade, friend, nor wife,-- Became insane; for reason, as we term it, Dwells never long with any hermit.

'Tis good to mix in good society, Obeying rules of due propriety; And better yet to be alone; But both are ills when overdone.

No animal had business where All grimly dwelt our hermit bear; Hence, bearish as he was, he grew Heart-sick, and long'd for something new.

While he to sadness was addicted, An aged man, not far from there, Was by the same disease afflicted.

A garden was his favourite care,-- Sweet Flora's priesthood, light and fair, And eke Pomona's--ripe and red The presents that her fingers shed.

These two employments, true, are sweet When made so by some friend discreet.

The gardens, gaily as they look, Talk not, (except in this my book;) So, tiring of the deaf and dumb, Our man one morning left his home Some company to seek, That had the power to speak.-- The bear, with thoughts the same, Down from his mountain came; And in a solitary place, They met each other, face to face.

It would have made the boldest tremble; What did our man? To play the Gascon The safest seem'd. He put the mask on, His fear contriving to dissemble.

The bear, unused to compliment, Growl'd bluntly, but with good intent, 'Come home with me.' The man replied: 'Sir Bear, my lodgings, nearer by, In yonder garden you may spy, Where, if you'll honour me the while, We'll break our fast in rural style.

I've fruits and milk,--unworthy fare, It may be, for a wealthy bear; But then I offer what I have.'

The bear accepts, with visage grave, But not unpleased; and on their way, They grow familiar, friendly, gay.

Arrived, you see them, side by side, As if their friendship had been tried.

To a companion so absurd, Blank solitude were well preferr'd, Yet, as the bear scarce spoke a word, The man was left quite at his leisure To trim his garden at his pleasure.

Sir Bruin hunted--always brought His friend whatever game he caught; But chiefly aim'd at driving flies-- Those hold and shameless parasites, That vex us with their ceaseless bites-- From off our gardener's face and eyes.

One day, while, stretch'd upon the ground The old man lay, in sleep profound, A fly that buzz'd around his nose,-- And bit it sometimes, I suppose,-- Put Bruin sadly to his trumps.

At last, determined, up he jumps; 'I'll stop thy noisy buzzing now,'

Says he; 'I know precisely how.'

No sooner said than done.

He seized a paving-stone; And by his modus operandi Did both the fly and man die.

A foolish friend may cause more woe Than could, indeed, the wisest foe.

[15] Bidpaii.

[16] _Bellerophon_.--The son of King Glaucus, who, after a wandering life, died a prey to melancholy.

XI.--THE TWO FRIENDS.[17]

Two friends, in Monomotapa, Had all their interests combined.

Their friendship, faithful and refined, Our country can't exceed, do what it may.

One night, when potent Sleep had laid All still within our planet's shade, One of the two gets up alarm'd, Runs over to the other's palace, And hastily the servants rallies.

His startled friend, quick arm'd, With purse and sword his comrade meets, And thus right kindly greets:-- 'Thou seldom com'st at such an hour; I take thee for a man of sounder mind Than to abuse the time for sleep design'd.

Hast lost thy purse, by Fortune's power?

Here's mine. Hast suffer'd insult, or a blow, I've here my sword--to avenge it let us go.'

'No,' said his friend, 'no need I feel Of either silver, gold, or steel; I thank thee for thy friendly zeal.

In sleep I saw thee rather sad, And thought the truth might be as bad.

Unable to endure the fear, That cursed dream has brought me here.'

Which think you, reader, loved the most!

If doubtful this, one truth may be proposed: There's nothing sweeter than a real friend: Not only is he prompt to lend-- An angler delicate, he fishes The very deepest of your wishes, And spares your modesty the task His friendly aid to ask.

A dream, a shadow, wakes his fear, When pointing at the object dear.[18]

[17] Bidpaii.

[18] This fable is thought to have been inspired by the friendship of La Fontaine for Fouquet, the minister whom Louis XIV., actuated mostly by jealousy and envy, disgraced and imprisoned. See the Translator's Preface.

XII.--THE HOG, THE GOAT, AND THE SHEEP.[19]

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

Their own amus.e.m.e.nt was not that Which caused their journey thither.

Their coachman did not mean to 'set them down'

To see the shows and wonders of the town.

The porker cried, in piercing squeals, As if with butchers at his heels.

The other beasts, of milder mood, The cause by no means understood.

They saw no harm, and wonder'd why At such a rate the hog should cry.

'Hush there, old piggy!' said the man, 'And keep as quiet as you can.

What wrong have you to squeal about, And raise this dev'lish, deaf'ning shout?

These stiller persons at your side Have manners much more dignified.

Pray, have you heard A single word Come from that gentleman in wool?

That proves him wise.' 'That proves him fool!'

The testy hog replied; 'For did he know To what we go, He'd cry almost to split his throat; So would her ladyship the goat.

They only think to lose with ease, The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece: They're, maybe, right; but as for me, This ride is quite another matter.

Of service only on the platter, My death is quite a certainty.

Adieu, my dear old piggery!'

The porker's logic proved at once Himself a prophet and a dunce.

Hope ever gives a present ease, But fear beforehand kills: The wisest he who least foresees Inevitable ills.

[19] Aesop.

XIII.--THYRSIS AND AMARANTH.

For Mademoiselle De Sillery.[20]

I had the Phrygian quit, Charm'd with Italian wit;[21]

But a divinity Would on Parna.s.sus see A fable more from me.

Such challenge to refuse, Without a good excuse, Is not the way to use Divinity or muse.

Especially to one Of those who truly are, By force of being fair, Made queens of human will.

A thing should not be done In all respects so ill.

For, be it known to all, From Sillery the call Has come for bird, and beast, And insects, to the least; To clothe their thoughts sublime In this my simple rhyme.

In saying Sillery, All's said that need to be.