VIII.--THE SWALLOW AND THE LITTLE BIRDS.[8]

By voyages in air, With constant thought and care, Much knowledge had a swallow gain'd, Which she for public use retain'd, The slightest storms she well foreknew, And told the sailors ere they blew.

A farmer sowing hemp, once having found, She gather'd all the little birds around, And said, 'My friends, the freedom let me take To prophesy a little, for your sake, Against this dangerous seed.

Though such a bird as I Knows how to hide or fly, You birds a caution need.

See you that waving hand?

It scatters on the land What well may cause alarm.

'Twill grow to nets and snares, To catch you unawares, And work you fatal harm!

Great mult.i.tudes I fear, Of you, my birdies dear, That falling seed, so little, Will bring to cage or kettle!

But though so perilous the plot, You now may easily defeat it: All lighting on the seeded spot, Just scratch up every seed and eat it.'

The little birds took little heed, So fed were they with other seed.

Anon the field was seen Bedeck'd in tender green.

The swallow's warning voice was heard again: 'My friends, the product of that deadly grain, Seize now, and pull it root by root, Or surely you'll repent its fruit.'

'False, babbling prophetess,' says one, 'You'd set us at some pretty fun!

To pull this field a thousand birds are needed, While thousands more with hemp are seeded.'

The crop now quite mature, The swallow adds, 'Thus far I've fail'd of cure; I've prophesied in vain Against this fatal grain: It's grown. And now, my bonny birds, Though you have disbelieved my words Thus far, take heed at last,-- When you shall see the seed-time past, And men, no crops to labour for, On birds shall wage their cruel war, With deadly net and noose; Of flying then beware, Unless you take the air, Like woodc.o.c.k, crane, or goose.

But stop; you're not in plight For such adventurous flight, O'er desert waves and sands, In search of other lands.

Hence, then, to save your precious souls, Remaineth but to say, 'Twill be the safest way, To chuck yourselves in holes.'

Before she had thus far gone, The birdlings, tired of hearing, And laughing more than fearing, Set up a greater jargon Than did, before the Trojan slaughter, The Trojans round old Priam's daughter.[9]

And many a bird, in prison grate, Lamented soon a Trojan fate.

'Tis thus we heed no instincts but our own; Believe no evil till the evil's done.

[8] Aesop.

[9] _Priam's daughter_.--Ca.s.sandra, who predicted the fall of Troy, and was not heeded.

IX.--THE CITY RAT AND THE COUNTRY RAT.[10]

A city rat, one night, Did, with a civil stoop, A country rat invite To end a turtle soup.

Upon a Turkey carpet They found the table spread, And sure I need not harp it How well the fellows fed.

The entertainment was A truly n.o.ble one; But some unlucky cause Disturb'd it when begun.

It was a slight rat-tat, That put their joys to rout; Out ran the city rat; His guest, too, scamper'd out.

Our rats but fairly quit, The fearful knocking ceased.

'Return we,' cried the cit, To finish there our feast.

'No,' said the rustic rat; 'To-morrow dine with me.

I'm not offended at Your feast so grand and free,--

'For I've no fare resembling; But then I eat at leisure, And would not swap, for pleasure So mix'd with fear and trembling.'

[10] Horace, _Satires_, II. 6: also in Aesop.

X.--THE WOLF AND THE LAMB.[11]

That innocence is not a shield, A story teaches, not the longest.

The strongest reasons always yield To reasons of the strongest.

A lamb her thirst was slaking, Once, at a mountain rill.

A hungry wolf was taking His hunt for sheep to kill, When, spying on the streamlet's brink This sheep of tender age, He howl'd in tones of rage, 'How dare you roil my drink?

Your impudence I shall chastise!'

'Let not your majesty,' the lamb replies, 'Decide in haste or pa.s.sion!

For sure 'tis difficult to think In what respect or fashion My drinking here could roil your drink, Since on the stream your majesty now faces I'm lower down, full twenty paces.'

'You roil it,' said the wolf; 'and, more, I know You cursed and slander'd me a year ago.'

'O no! how could I such a thing have done!

A lamb that has not seen a year, A suckling of its mother dear?'

'Your brother then.' 'But brother I have none.'

'Well, well, what's all the same, 'Twas some one of your name.

Sheep, men, and dogs of every nation, Are wont to stab my reputation, As I have truly heard.'

Without another word, He made his vengeance good-- Bore off the lambkin to the wood, And there, without a jury, Judged, slew, and ate her in his fury.

[11] Phaedrus, I. 1: also in Aesop.

XI.--THE MAN AND HIS IMAGE.[12]

To M. The Duke De La Rochefoucauld.

A man, who had no rivals in the love Which to himself he bore, Esteem'd his own dear beauty far above What earth had seen before.

More than contented in his error, He lived the foe of every mirror.

Officious fate, resolved our lover From such an illness should recover, Presented always to his eyes The mute advisers which the ladies prize;-- Mirrors in parlours, inns, and shops,-- Mirrors the pocket furniture of fops,-- Mirrors on every lady's zone,[13]

From which his face reflected shone.

What could our dear Narcissus do?

From haunts of men he now withdrew, On purpose that his precious shape From every mirror might escape.

But in his forest glen alone, Apart from human trace, A watercourse, Of purest source, While with unconscious gaze He pierced its waveless face, Reflected back his own.

Incensed with mingled rage and fright, He seeks to shun the odious sight; But yet that mirror sheet, so clear and still, He cannot leave, do what he will.

Ere this, my story's drift you plainly see.

From such mistake there is no mortal free.

That obstinate self-lover The human soul doth cover; The mirrors follies are of others, In which, as all are genuine brothers, Each soul may see to life depicted Itself with just such faults afflicted; And by that charming placid brook, Needless to say, I mean your Maxim Book.

[12] This is one of La Fontaine's most admired fables, and is one of the few for which he did not go for the groundwork to some older fabulist. The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, to whom it was dedicated, was the author of the famous "Reflexions et Maximes Morales," which La Fontaine praises in the last lines of his fable. La Rochefoucauld was La Fontaine's friend and patron. The "Maximes"

had achieved a second edition just prior to La Fontaine's publication of this first series of his Fables, in 1668. "The Rabbits" (Book X., Fable 15.), published in the second collection, in 1678-9, is also dedicated to the Duke, who died the following year, 1680. See Translator's Preface.

[13] _Lady's zone_.--One of La Fontaine's commentators remarks upon this pa.s.sage that it is no exaggeration of the foppishness of the times in which the poet wrote, and cites the instance that the canons of St. Martin of Tours wore mirrors on their shoes, even while officiating in church.