The Fables of Phaedrus Part 24

A Stag unharbour'd by the hounds, Forth from his woodland covert bounds, And blind with terror, at th' alarm Of death, makes to a neighb'ring farm; There snug conceals him in some straw, Which in an ox's stall he saw.

"Wretch that thou art!" a bullock cried, "That com'st within this place to hide; By trusting man you are undone, And into sure destruction run."

But he with suppliant voice replies: "Do you but wink with both your eyes, I soon shall my occasions shape, To make from hence a fair escape."

The day is spent, the night succeeds, The herdsman comes, the cattle feeds, But nothing sees--then to and fro Time after time the servants go; Yet not a soul perceives the case.

The steward pa.s.ses by the place, Himself no wiser than the rest.

The joyful Stag his thanks address'd To all the Oxen, that he there Had found a refuge in despair.

"We wish you well," an Ox return'd, "But for your life are still concern'd, For if old Argus come, no doubt, His hundred eyes will find you out."

Scarce had the speaker made an end, When from the supper of a friend The master enters at the door, And, seeing that the steers were poor Of late, advances to the rack.

"Why were the fellow's hands so slack?

Here's hardly any straw at all, Brush down those cobwebs from the wall.

Pray how much labour would it ask?"

While thus he undertakes the task, To dust, and rummage by degrees, The Stag's exalted horns he sees: Then calling all his folks around, He lays him breathless on the ground.

The master, as the tale declares, Looks sharpest to his own affairs.

EPILOGUE.

A statue of great cost and fame Th' Athenians raised to Esop's name, Him setting on th' eternal base, Whom servile rank could not disgrace; That they might teach to all mankind The way to honor's unconfined, That glory's due to rising worth, And not alone to pomp and birth.

Since then another seized the post Lest I priority should boast, This pow'r and praise was yet my own, That he should not excel alone: Nor is this Envy's jealous ire, But Emulation's genuine fire.

And if Rome should approve my piece, She'll soon have more to rival Greece.

But should th' invidious town declare Against my plodding over-care, They cannot take away, nor hurt Th' internal conscience of desert.

If these my studies reach their aim, And, reader, your attention claim, If your perception fully weighs The drift of these my labour'd lays; Then such success precludes complaint.

But if the Picture which I paint Should happen to attract their sight, Whom luckless Nature brought to light, Who scorn the labours of a man, And when they carp do all they can; Yet must this fatal cause to mourn With all its bitterness be borne, Till fortune be ashamed of days, When genius fails, and int'rest sways.

BOOK III.

PROLOGUE, TO EUTYCHUS.

The tales of Phaedrus would you read, O Eutychus, you must be freed From business, that the mind unbent May take the author's full intent.

You urge that this poetic turn Of mine is not of such concern, As with your time to interfere A moment's s.p.a.ce: 'tis therefore clear For those essays you have no call, Which suit not your affairs at all.

A time may come, perhaps you'll say, That I shall make a holiday, And have my vacant thoughts at large, The student's office to discharge-- And can you such vile stuff peruse, Rather than serve domestic views, Return the visits of a friend, Or with your wife your leisure spend, Relax your mind, your limbs relieve, And for new toil new strength receive?

From worldly cares you must estrange Your thoughts, and feel a perfect change, If to Parna.s.sus you repair, And seek for your admission there, Me--(whom a Grecian mother bore On Hill Pierian, where of yore Mnemosyne in love divine Brought forth to Jove the tuneful Nine.

Though sprung where genius reign'd with art, I grubb'd up av'rice from my heart, And rather for applause than pay, Embrace the literary way) Yet as a writer and a wit, With some abatements they admit.

What is his case then, do you think, Who toils for wealth nor sleeps a wink, Preferring to the pleasing pain Of composition sordid gain?

But hap what will (as Sinon said, When to king Priam he was led), I book the third shall now fulfil, With aesop for my master still; Which book I dedicate to you, As both to worth and honour due.

Pleased, if you read--if not, content As conscious of a sure event, That these my fables shall remain, And after-ages entertain.

In a few words I now propose To point from whence the Fable rose.

A servitude was all along Exposed to most oppressive wrong, The suff'rer therefore did not dare His heart's true dictates to declare; But couch'd his meaning in the veil Of many an allegoric tale, And jesting with a moral aim, Eluded all offence and blame.

This is the path that I pursue, Inventing more than aesop knew; And certain topics by-the-by, To my own hindrence did I try.

But was there any of mankind, Besides Seja.n.u.s, so inclined, Who was alone to work my fall, Informer, witness, judge and all; I would confess the slander true, And own such hardships were my due; Nor would I fly, my grief to ease, To such poor lenitives as these.

If any through suspicion errs, And to himself alone refers, What was design'd for thousands more He'll show too plainly, where he's sore.

Yet ev'n from such I crave excuse, For (far from personal abuse) My verse in gen'ral would put down True life and manners of the town.

But here, perhaps, some one will ask Why I, forsooth, embraced this task?

If Esop, though a Phrygian, rose, And ev'n derived from Scythian snows; If Anacharsis could devise By wit to gain th' immortal prize; Shall I, who to learn'd Greece belong, Neglect her honour and her song, And by dull sloth myself disgrace?

Since we can reckon up in Thrace, The authors that have sweetest sung, Where Linus from Apollo sprung; And he whose mother was a muse, Whose voice could tenderness infuse To solid rocks, strange monsters quell'd, And Hebrus in his course withheld.

Envy, stand clear, or thou shalt rue Th' attack, for glory is my due.

Thus having wrought upon your ear, I beg that you would be sincere, And in the poet's cause avow That candor, all the world allow.

FABLE I. THE OLD WOMAN AND EMPTY CASK.

An ancient dame a firkin sees, In which the rich Falernian lees Send from the n.o.bly tinctured sh.e.l.l A rare and most delicious smell!

There when a season she had clung With greedy nostrils to the bung, "O spirit exquisitely sweet!"

She cried, "how perfectly complete Were you of old, and at the best, When ev'n your dregs have such a zest!"

They'll see the drift of this my rhyme, Who knew the author in his prime.

II. THE PANTHER AND SHEPHERDS.

Their scorn comes home to them again Who treat the wretched with disdain.

A careless Panther long ago Fell in a pit, which overthrow The Shepherds all around alarm'd; When some themselves with cudgels arm'd; Others threw stones upon its head; But some in pity sent her bread, As death was not the creature's due.

The night came on--the hostile crew Went home, not doubting in the way To find the Panther dead next day.

But she, recovering of her strength, Sprang from the pit and fled at length.

But rushing in a little s.p.a.ce From forth her den upon the place, She tears the flock, the Shepherd slays, And all the region round dismays.

Then they began to be afraid Who spared the beast and lent their aid; They reck not of the loss, but make Their pray'r for life, when thus she spake: "I well remember them that threw The stones, and well remember you Who gave me bread--desist to fear, For 'twas the oppressor brought me here."

III. THE APE'S HEAD.

A certain person, as he stood Within the shambles buying food, Amongst the other kitchen fare Beheld an Ape suspended there; And asking how 'twould taste, when dress'd, The butcher shook his head in jest; "If for such prog your fancy is, Judge of the flavour by the phiz."

This speech was not so true as keen, For I in life have often seen Good features with a wicked heart, And plainness acting virtue's part.

IV. ESOP AND THE INSOLENT FELLOW.

Fools from success perdition meet.

An idle wretch about the street At Esop threw a stone in rage.

"So much the better," quoth the sage, And gives three farthings for the job; "I've no more money in my fob; But if you'll follow my advice, More shall be levied in a trice."

It happen'd that the selfsame hour Came by a man of wealth and pow'r.

"There, throw your pellet at my lord, And you shall have a sure reward!"

The fellow did as he was told; But mark the downfall of the bold; His hopes are baulk'd, and, lo! he gains A rope and gibbet for his pains.

V. THE FLY AND THE MULE.

A Fly that sat upon the beam Rated the Mule: "Why, sure you dream?

Pray get on faster with the cart Or I shall sting you till you smart!"

She answers: "All this talk I hear With small attention, but must fear Him who upon the box sustains The pliant whip, and holds the reins.

Cease then your pertness--for I know When to give back, and when to go."

This tale derides the talking crew, Whose empty threats are all they do.

VI. THE DOG AND THE WOLF.

I will, as briefly as I may, The sweets of liberty display.

A Wolf half famish'd, chanced to see A Dog, as fat as dog could be: For one day meeting on the road, They mutual compliments bestowed: "Prithee," says Isgrim, faint and weak, "How came you so well fed and sleek?