A fable flourished with antiquity Whose meaning I could never clearly see.

Kind reader, draw the moral if you're able: I give you here the naked fable.

Fame having bruited that a great commander, A son of Jove, a certain Alexander, Resolved to leave nought free on this our ball, Had to his footstool gravely summon'd all Men, quadrupeds, and nullipeds, together With all the bird-republics, every feather,-- The G.o.ddess of the hundred mouths, I say, Thus having spread dismay, By widely publishing abroad This mandate of the demiG.o.d, The animals, and all that do obey Their appet.i.te alone, mistrusted now That to another sceptre they must bow.

Far in the desert met their various races, All gathering from their hiding-places.

Discuss'd was many a notion.

At last, it was resolved, on motion, To pacify the conquering banner, By sending homage in, and tribute.

With both the homage and its manner They charged the monkey, as a glib brute; And, lest the chap should too much chatter, In black on white they wrote the matter.

Nought but the tribute served to fash, As that must needs be paid in cash.

A prince, who chanced a mine to own, At last, obliged them with a loan.

The mule and a.s.s, to bear the treasure, Their service tender'd, full of pleasure; And then the caravan was none the worse, a.s.sisted by the camel and the horse.

Forthwith proceeded all the four Behind the new amba.s.sador, And saw, erelong, within a narrow place, Monseigneur Lion's quite unwelcome face.

'Well met, and all in time,' said he; 'Myself your fellow traveller will be.

I wend my tribute by itself to bear; And though 'tis light, I well might spare The unaccustom'd load.

Take each a quarter, if you please, And I will guard you on the road; More free and at my ease-- In better plight, you understand, To fight with any robber band.'

A lion to refuse, the fact is, Is not a very usual practice: So in he comes, for better and for worse; Whatever he demands is done, And, spite of Jove's heroic son, He fattens freely from the public purse.

While wending on their way, They found a spot one day, With waters hemm'd, of crystal sheen; Its carpet, flower-besprinkled green; Where pastured at their ease Both flocks of sheep and dainty heifers, And play'd the cooling breeze-- The native land of all the zephyrs.

No sooner is the lion there Than of some sickness he complains.

Says he, 'You on your mission fare.

A fever, with its thirst and pains, Dries up my blood, and bakes my brains; And I must search some herb, Its fatal power to curb.

For you, there is no time to waste; Pay me my money, and make haste.'

The treasures were unbound, And placed upon the ground.

Then, with a look which testified His royal joy, the lion cried, 'My coins, good heavens, have multiplied!

And see the young ones of the gold As big already as the old!

The increase belongs to me, no doubt;'

And eagerly he took it out!

'Twas little staid beneath the lid; The wonder was that any did.

Confounded were the monkey and his suite.

And, dumb with fear, betook them to their way, And bore complaint to Jove's great son, they say-- Complaint without a reason meet; For what could he? Though a celestial scion, He could but fight, as lion versus lion.

When corsairs battle, Turk with Turk, They're not about their proper work.

[17] The story of this fable has been traced to Gilbert Cousin, in whose works it figures with the t.i.tle "De Jovis Ammonis oraculo." Gilbert Cousin was Canon of Nozeret, and wrote between 1506 and 1569.

XIII.--THE HORSE WISHING TO BE REVENGED UPON THE STAG.[18]

The horses have not always been The humble slaves of men.

When, in the far-off past, The fare of gentlemen was mast, And even hats were never felt, Horse, a.s.s, and mule in forests dwelt.

Nor saw one then, as in these ages, So many saddles, housings, pillions; Such splendid equipages, With golden-lace postilions; Such harnesses for cattle, To be consumed in battle; As one saw not so many feasts, And people married by the priests.

The horse fell out, within that s.p.a.ce, With the antler'd stag, so fleetly made: He could not catch him in a race, And so he came to man for aid.

Man first his suppliant bitted; Then, on his back well seated, Gave chase with spear, and rested not Till to the ground the foe he brought.

This done, the honest horse, quite blindly, Thus thank'd his benefactor kindly:-- 'Dear sir, I'm much obliged to you; I'll back to savage life. Adieu!'

'O, no,' the man replied; 'You'd better here abide; I know too well your use.

Here, free from all abuse, Remain a liege to me, And large your provender shall be.'

Alas! good housing or good cheer, That costs one's liberty, is dear.

The horse his folly now perceived, But quite too late he grieved.

No grief his fate could alter; His stall was built, and there he lived, And died there in his halter.

Ah! wise had he one small offence forgot!

Revenge, however sweet, is dearly bought By that one good, which gone, all else is nought.

[18] Phaedrus, IV. 4; Horace (_Epistles_, Book I. 10), and others.

XIV.--THE FOX AND THE BUST.[19]

The great are like the maskers of the stage; Their show deceives the simple of the age.

For all that they appear to be they pa.s.s, With only those whose type's the a.s.s.

The fox, more wary, looks beneath the skin, And looks on every side, and, when he sees That all their glory is a semblance thin, He turns, and saves the hinges of his knees, With such a speech as once, 'tis said, He utter'd to a hero's head.

A bust, somewhat colossal in its size, Attracted crowds of wondering eyes.

The fox admired the sculptor's pains: 'Fine head,' said he, 'but void of brains!'

The same remark to many a lord applies.

[19] Aesop: Phaedrus, I. 7 (The Fox and the Tragic Mask).

XV.--THE WOLF, THE GOAT, AND THE KID.[20]

As went the goat her pendent dugs to fill, And browse the herbage of a distant hill, She latch'd her door, and bid, With matron care, her kid;-- 'My daughter, as you live, This portal don't undo To any creature who This watchword does not give: "Deuce take the wolf and all his race!"'

The wolf was pa.s.sing near the place By chance, and heard the words with pleasure, And laid them up as useful treasure; And hardly need we mention, Escaped the goat's attention.

No sooner did he see The matron off, than he, With hypocritic tone and face, Cried out before the place, 'Deuce take the wolf and all his race!'

Not doubting thus to gain admission.

The kid, not void of all suspicion, Peer'd through a crack, and cried, 'Show me white paw before You ask me to undo the door.'

The wolf could not, if he had died, For wolves have no connexion With paws of that complexion.

So, much surprised, our gormandiser Retired to fast till he was wiser.

How would the kid have been undone Had she but trusted to the word The wolf by chance had overheard!

Two sureties better are than one; And caution's worth its cost, Though sometimes seeming lost.

[20] Corrozet; and others.

XVI.--THE WOLF, THE MOTHER, AND HER CHILD.[21]

This wolf another brings to mind, Who found dame Fortune more unkind, In that the greedy, pirate sinner, Was balk'd of life as well as dinner.

As saith our tale, a villager Dwelt in a by, unguarded place; There, hungry, watch'd our pillager For luck and chance to mend his case.

For there his thievish eyes had seen All sorts of game go out and in-- Nice sucking calves, and lambs and sheep; And turkeys by the regiment, With steps so proud, and necks so bent, They'd make a daintier glutton weep.

The thief at length began to tire Of being gnaw'd by vain desire.

Just then a child set up a cry: 'Be still,' the mother said, 'or I Will throw you to the wolf, you brat!'

'Ha, ha!' thought he, 'what talk is that!

The G.o.ds be thank'd for luck so good!'

And ready at the door he stood, When soothingly the mother said, 'Now cry no more, my little dear; That naughty wolf, if he comes here, Your dear papa shall kill him dead.'

'Humph!' cried the veteran mutton-eater.

'Now this, now that! Now hot, now cool!