"The Lion roared and said, 'Weak and foolish things! I am the Lion.

It is you that should go away, for I have come to drink. This is my wilderness, and I am king. Do you know, weak things, that when I come out from my place and send forth my voice, all the creatures of the wilderness shake like leaves and bow their heads to me? What are you that you should have a place you call your home and tell me that I may or I may not?'

"Then the Mosquitoes answered, 'You are only one. You speak as if you were many. Our people had this old well for a home before your roar was heard in the wilderness. And many generations of us have been born here. This home is ours, and we are they that say who shall come or go. And yet you come and tell us to go out of our own door. If you do not leave us, we will call our people, and you shall know trouble.'

"But the Lion held his head high with pride and anger and said, 'What are you, oh, small of the small? I will kill every one of your useless people. When I drink, I will open my mouth only a little wider, and you shall be swallowed like the water. And to-morrow I shall forget that I drank to-day.'

"'Boastful one,' said the Mosquitoes, 'we do not believe that you have the power to destroy all our people. If you wish battle, we shall see.

We know your name is great and that all animals bow their heads before you; but our people can kill you.'

"The Lion jumped high in his rage and said, 'No other creature in the wilderness has dared to say these things to me--the king. Have I come to the vile well of the silly Mosquitoes for wisdom?' And he held his head high, and gave the mighty roar of battle, and made ready to kill all the Mosquitoes.

"Then the Mosquitoes, big and little, flew around him. Many went into his ears, and the smallest ones went into his nose, and the big old ones went into his mouth to sting. A thousand and a thousand hung in the air just over his head and made a great noise, and the Lion soon knew that he could not conquer.

"He roared and jumped, and two of his front feet went down into the well. The well was narrow and deep and he could not get out, for his two hind feet were in the air and his head hung downward. And as he died, he said to himself:

"'My pride and anger have brought me this fate. Had I used gentle words, the Mosquitoes might have given me water for my thirst. I was wise and strong in the wilderness, and even the greatest of the animals feared my power. But I fought with the Mosquitoes and I die--not because I have not strength to overcome, but because of the foolishness of anger."

EE-SZE (Meaning): The wise can conquer the foolish. Power is nothing, strength is nothing. The wise, gentle and careful can always win.

FABLES OF LA FONTAINE*

"Of Fables judge not by their face; They give the simplest brute a teacher's place.

Bare precepts were inert and tedious things; The story gives them life and wings."

JEAN DE LA FONTAINE

*Translated by Elizur Wright, Jr.

FABLES OF LA FONTAINE

The Gra.s.shopper and the Ant

A Gra.s.shopper gay Sang the summer away, And found herself poor By the winter's first roar.

Of meat or of bread, Not a morsel she had!

So a-begging she went, To her neighbour the Ant, For the loan of some wheat, Which would serve her to eat, Till the season came round.

"I will pay you," she saith, "On an animal's faith, Double weight in the pound Ere the harvest be bound."

The Ant is a friend-- (And here she might mend) Little given to lend.

"How spent you the summer?"

Quoth she, looking shame At the borrowing dame.

"Night and day to each comer I sang, if you please."

"You sang! I'm at ease, For 'tis plain at a glance, Now, ma'am, you must dance."

The Swan and the Cook

The pleasures of a poultry yard Were by a Swan and Gosling shared.

The Swan was kept there for his looks, The thrifty Gosling for the Cooks; The first the garden's pride, the latter A greater favourite on the platter.

They swam the ditches, side by side, And oft in sports aquatic vied, Plunging, splashing far and wide, With rivalry ne'er satisfied.

One day the Cook, named Thirsty John, Sent for the Gosling, took the Swan, In haste his throat to cut, And put him in the pot.

The bird's complaint resounded In glorious melody; Whereat the Cook, astounded His sad mistake to see, Cried, "What! make soup of a musician!

Please G.o.d, I'll never set such dish on.

No, no; I'll never cut a throat That sings so pa.s.sing sweet a note."

_'Tis thus, whatever peril may alarm us, Sweet words will surely never harm us_.

The Hornets and the Bees

"The artist by his work is known."

A piece of honey-comb, one day, Discovered as a waif and stray, The Hornets treated as their own.

Their t.i.tle did the Bees dispute, And brought before a Wasp the suit.

The judge was puzzled to decide, For nothing could be testified Save that around this honey-comb There had been seen, as if at home, Some longish, brownish, buzzing creatures, Much like the Bees in wings and features.

But what of that? for marks the same, The Hornets, too, could truly claim.

Between a.s.sertion and denial, The Wasp, in doubt, proclaimed new trial; And, hearing what an ant-hill swore, Could see no clearer than before.

"What use, I pray, of this expense?"

At last exclaim'd a Bee of sense.

"We've laboured months in this affair, And now are only where we were.

Meanwhile the honey runs to waste: 'Tis time the judge should show some haste.

Both sides have had sufficient bleeding, Without more fuss of scrawls and pleading.

Let's set to work, these drones and we, And then all eyes the truth may see, Whose art it is that can produce The magic cells, the nectar juice."

The Hornets, flinching on their part, Show that the work transcends their art.

The Wasp at length their t.i.tle sees, And gives the honey to the Bees.

_Oh, would that suits at law with us Might every one be managed thus!_

The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg

Two Rats in foraging fell on an Egg-- For gentry such as they A genteel dinner every way; They needed not to find an ox's leg.

Brimful of joy and appet.i.te, They were about to sack the box, So tight without the aid of locks, When suddenly there came in sight A personage--Sir Slyboots Fox.

Sure, luck was never more untoward Since Fortune was a vixen froward!

How should they save their Egg--and bacon?

Their plunder couldn't then be bagg'd.

Should it in forward paws be taken, Or roll'd along, or dragg'd?

Each method seem'd impossible, And each was then of danger full.

Necessity, ingenious mother, Brought forth what help'd them from their pother.

As still there was a chance to save their prey, The sponger yet some hundred yards away-- One seized the Egg, and turned upon his back, And then, in spite of many a thump and thwack, That would have torn, perhaps, a coat of mail, The other dragg'd him by the tail.

Who dares the inference to blink, That beasts possess wherewith to think?

_Were I commission'd to bestow This power on creatures here below, The beasts should have as much of mind As infants of the human kind._