Fables of La Fontaine Part 44

Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?-- Pray, let it not be far from home.

To each the other ought to be A world of beauty ever new; In each the other ought to see The whole of what is good and true.

Myself have loved; nor would I then, For all the wealth of crowned men, Or arch celestial, paved with gold, The presence of those woods have sold, And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which Were by the joyful steps made rich, And smiled beneath the charming eyes Of her who made my heart a prize-- To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath.

Ah, when will time such moments bring again?

To me are sweet and charming objects vain-- My soul forsaking to its restless mood?

O, did my wither'd heart but dare To kindle for the bright and good, Should not I find the charm still there?

Is love, to me, with things that were?

[2] Bidpaii. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's very best. See Translator's Preface.

III.--THE MONKEY AND THE LEOPARD.[3]

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

Each advertised his own attractions.

Said one, 'Good sirs, the highest place My merit knows; for, of his grace, The king hath seen me face to face; And, judging by his looks and actions, I gave the best of satisfactions.

When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, My skin will make his royal m.u.f.f.

So richly is it streak'd and spotted, So delicately waved and dotted, Its various beauty cannot fail to please.'

And, thus invited, everybody sees; But soon they see, and soon depart.

The monkey's show-bill to the mart His merits thus sets forth the while, All in his own peculiar style:-- 'Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come; In magic arts I am at home.

The whole variety in which My neighbour boasts himself so rich, Is to his simple skin confined, While mine is living in the mind.

Your humble servant, Monsieur Gille, The son-in-law to Tickleville, Pope's monkey, and of great renown, Is now just freshly come to town, Arrived in three bateaux, express, Your worships to address; For he can speak, you understand; Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand; Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks; In short, can do a thousand tricks; And all for blancos six--[4]

Not, messieurs, for a sou.

And, if you think the price won't do, When you have seen, then he'll restore Each man his money at the door.'

The ape was not to reason blind; For who in wealth of dress can find Such charms as dwell in wealth of mind?

One meets our ever-new desires, The other in a moment tires.

Alas! how many lords there are, Of mighty sway and lofty mien, Who, like this leopard at the fair, Show all their talents on the skin!

[3] Aesop; also Avia.n.u.s.

[4] _Blancos six._--The blanc was a French copper coin, six of which were equivalent in value to something over a penny of the present English money.

IV.--THE ACORN AND THE PUMPKIN.

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

'This fruit so large, on vine so small,'

Surveying once, exclaim'd a b.u.mpkin-- 'What could He mean who made us all?

He's left this pumpkin out of place.

If I had order'd in the case, Upon that oak it should have hung-- A n.o.ble fruit as ever swung To grace a tree so firm and strong.

Indeed, it was a great mistake, As this discovery teaches, That I myself did not partake His counsels whom my curate preaches.

All things had then in order come; This acorn, for example, Not bigger than my thumb, Had not disgraced a tree so ample.

The more I think, the more I wonder To see outraged proportion's laws, And that without the slightest cause; G.o.d surely made an awkward blunder.'

With such reflections proudly fraught, Our sage grew tired of mighty thought, And threw himself on Nature's lap, Beneath an oak,--to take his nap.

Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, An acorn fell: he waked, and in The matted beard that graced his chin, He found the cause of such a bruise As made him different language use.

'O! O!' he cried; 'I bleed! I bleed!

And this is what has done the deed!

But, truly, what had been my fate, Had this had half a pumpkin's weight!

I see that G.o.d had reasons good, And all his works well understood.'

Thus home he went in humbler mood.[5]

[5] This fable was much admired by Madame de Sevigne. See Translator's Preface.

V.--THE SCHOOLBOY, THE PEDANT, AND THE OWNER OF A GARDEN.

A boy who savour'd of his school,-- A double rogue and double fool,-- By youth and by the privilege Which pedants have, by ancient right, To alter reason, and abridge,-- A neighbour robb'd, with fingers light, Of flowers and fruit. This neighbour had, Of fruits that make the autumn glad, The very best--and none but he.

Each season brought, from plant and tree, To him its tribute; for, in spring, His was the brightest blossoming.

One day, he saw our hopeful lad Perch'd on the finest tree he had, Not only stuffing down the fruit, But spoiling, like a Vandal brute, The buds that play advance-courier Of plenty in the coming year.

The branches, too, he rudely tore, And carried things to such a pa.s.s, The owner sent his servant o'er To tell the master of his cla.s.s.

The latter came, and came attended By all the urchins of his school, And thus one plunderer's mischief mended By pouring in an orchard-full.

It seems the pedant was intent On making public punishment, To teach his boys the force of law, And strike their roguish hearts with awe.

The use of which he first must show From Virgil and from Cicero, And many other ancients noted, From whom, in their own tongues, he quoted.

So long, indeed, his lecture lasted, While not a single urchin fasted, That, ere its close, their thievish crimes Were multiplied a hundred times.

I hate all eloquence and reason Expended plainly out of season.

Of all the beasts that earth have cursed While they have fed on't, The school-boy strikes me as the worst-- Except the pedant.

The better of these neighbours two For me, I'm sure, would never do.

VI.--THE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER.

A block of marble was so fine, To buy it did a sculptor hasten.

'What shall my chisel, now 'tis mine-- A G.o.d, a table, or a basin?'

'A G.o.d,' said he, 'the thing shall be; I'll arm it, too, with thunder.

Let people quake, and bow the knee With reverential wonder.'

So well the cunning artist wrought All things within a mortal's reach, That soon the marble wanted nought Of being Jupiter, but speech.

Indeed, the man whose skill did make Had scarcely laid his chisel down, Before himself began to quake, And fear his manufacture's frown.

And even this excess of faith The poet once scarce fell behind, The hatred fearing, and the wrath, Of G.o.ds the product of his mind.

This trait we see in infancy Between the baby and its doll, Of wax or china, it may be-- A pocket stuff'd, or folded shawl.

Imagination rules the heart: And here we find the fountain head From whence the pagan errors start, That o'er the teeming nations spread.

With violent and flaming zeal, Each takes his own chimera's part; Pygmalion[6] doth a pa.s.sion feel For Venus chisel'd by his art.