A Fowler's mirror served to snare The little tenants of the air.

A Lark there saw her pretty face, And was approaching to the place.

A Hawk, that sailed on high, Like vapour in the sky, Came down, as still as infant's breath, On her who sang so near her death.

She thus escaped the Fowler's steel, The Hawk's malignant claws to feel.

While in his cruel way, The pirate plucked his prey, Upon himself the net was sprung.

"O Fowler," prayed he in the hawkish tongue, "Release me in thy clemency!

I never did a wrong to thee."

The man replied, "'Tis true; And did the Lark to you?"

Phoebus and Boreas

Old Boreas and the Sun, one day, Espied a traveller on his way, Whose dress did happily provide Against whatever might betide.

The time was autumn, when, indeed, All prudent travellers take heed.

The rains that then the sunshine dash, And Iris with her splendid sash, Warn one who does not like to soak To wear abroad a good thick coat.

Our man was therefore well bedight With double mantle, strong and tight.

"This fellow," said the Wind, "has meant To guard from every ill event; But little does he wot that I Can blow him such a blast That, not a b.u.t.ton fast, His cloak shall cleave the sky.

Come, here's a pleasant game. Sir Sun!

Wilt play?" Said Phoebus, "Done!

We'll bet between us here Which first will take the gear From off this cavalier.

Begin, and shut away The brightness of my ray."

"Enough." Our blower, on the bet, Swelled out his pursy form With all the stuff for storm-- The thunder, hail, and drenching wet, And all the fury he could muster; Then, with a very demon's bl.u.s.ter, He whistled, whirled, and splashed, And down the torrents dashed, Full many a roof uptearing He never did before, Full many a vessel bearing To wreck upon the sh.o.r.e-- And all to doff a single cloak.

But vain the furious stroke; The traveller was stout, And kept the tempest out, Defied the hurricane, Defied the pelting rain; And as the fiercer roared the blast, His cloak the tighter held he fast.

The Sun broke out, to win the bet; He caused the clouds to disappear, Refreshed and warmed the cavalier, And through his mantle made him sweat, Till off it came, of course, In less than half an hour; And yet the Sun saved half his power-- So much does mildness more than force.

The Stag and the Vine

A Stag, by favour of a Vine, Which grew where suns most genial shine, And formed a thick and matted bower Which might have turned a summer shower, Was saved by ruinous a.s.sault.

The hunters thought their dogs at fault, And called them off. In danger now no more The Stag, a thankless wretch and vile, Began to browse his benefactress o'er.

The hunters listening the while, The rustling heard, came back, With all their yelping pack, And seized him in that very place.

"This is," said he, "but justice, in my case.

Let every black ingrate Henceforward profit by my fate."

The dogs fell to--'twere wasting breath To pray those hunters at the death.

They left, and we will not revile 'em, A warning for profaners of asylum.

The Peac.o.c.k Complaining to Juno

The Peac.o.c.k to the Queen of heaven Complained in some such words: "Great G.o.ddess, you have given To me, the laughing stock of birds, A voice which fills, by taste quite just, All nature with disgust; Whereas that little paltry thing, The nightingale, pours from her throat So sweet and ravishing a note; She bears alone the honours of the spring."

In anger Juno heard, And cried, "Shame on you, jealous bird!

Grudge you the nightingale her voice, Who in the rainbow neck rejoice, Than costliest silks more richly tinted, In charms of grace and form unstinted-- Who strut in kingly pride, Your glorious tail spread wide With brilliants which in sheen do Outshine the jeweller's bow window?

Is there a bird beneath the blue That has more charms than you?

No animal in everything can shine.

By just part.i.tion of our gifts divine, Each has its full and proper share.

Among the birds that cleave the air The hawk's a swift, the eagle is a brave one, For omens serves the hoa.r.s.e old raven, The rook's of coming ills the prophet; And if there's any discontent, I've heard not of it.

Cease, then, your envious complaint; Or I, instead of making up your lack, Will take your boasted plumage from your back."

The Eagle and the Beetle

John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased, Was making for his hole in haste, When, on his way, he met a Beetle's burrow.

I leave you all to think If such a little c.h.i.n.k Could to a rabbit give protection thorough; But, since no better could be got, John Rabbit, there was fain to squat.

Of course, in an asylum so absurd, John felt ere long the talons of the bird.

But first the Beetle, interceding, cried, "Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied That, maugre my protection, you can bear My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air, But do not give me such affront, I pray; And since he craves your grace, In pity of his case, Grant him his life, or take us both away; For he's my gossip, friend and neighbour."

In vain the Beetle's friendly labour; The Eagle clutched her prey without reply, And as she flapped her vasty wings to fly, Struck down our orator and stilled him-- The wonder is she hadn't killed him.

The Beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest Flew to the old, gnarled mountain oak, Which proudly bore that haughty Eagle's nest.

And while the bird was gone, Her eggs, her cherished eggs, he broke, Not sparing one.

Returning from her flight, the Eagle's cry Of rage and bitter anguish filled the sky, But, by excess of pa.s.sion blind, Her enemy she failed to find.

Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate To live a mourning mother, desolate.

The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; The Beetle found and dashed her eggs again.

John Rabbit's death was thus avenged anew.

The second mourning for her murdered brood Was such that through the giant mountain wood, For six long months, the sleepless echo flew.

The bird, once Ganymede, now made Her prayer to Jupiter for aid; And, laying them within his G.o.dship's lap, She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap; The G.o.d his own could not but make them-- No wretch would venture there to break them.

And no one did. Their enemy, this time, Upsoaring to a place sublime, Let fall upon his royal robes some dirt, Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither.

When Jupiter informed her how th' event Occurred by purest accident, The Eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her; She gave out threats of leaving court, To make the desert her resort, And other brav'ries of this sort.

Poor Jupiter in silence heard The uproar of his favourite bird.

Before his throne the Beetle now appeared, And by a clear complaint the mystery cleared.

The G.o.d p.r.o.nounced the Eagle in the wrong.

But still, their hatred was so old and strong, These enemies could not be reconciled; And, that the general peace might not be spoiled-- The best that he could do--the G.o.d arranged That thence the Eagle's pairing should be changed, To come when Beetle folks are only found Concealed and dormant under ground.

FABLES FROM THE SPANISH

OF

CARLOS YRIARTE*

"_As the impressions made upon a new vessel are not easily to be effaced, so here youth are taught prudence through the allurement of fable._"

*Translated by Richard Andrew

FABLES FROM THE SPANISH

The Bee and the Cuckoo

A Cuckoo, near a hive, one day, Was chaunting in his usual way, When to the door the Queen-bee ran, And, humming angrily, began:

"Do cease that tuneless song I hear-- How can we work while thou art near?