Fables of La Fontaine Part 16

[24] Verdizotti.

XVII.--THE WEASEL IN THE GRANARY.[25]

A weasel through a hole contrived to squeeze, (She was recovering from disease,) Which led her to a farmer's h.o.a.rd.

There lodged, her wasted form she cherish'd; Heaven knows the lard and victuals stored That by her gnawing perish'd!

Of which the consequence Was sudden corpulence.

A week or so was past, When having fully broken fast.

A noise she heard, and hurried To find the hole by which she came, And seem'd to find it not the same; So round she ran, most sadly flurried; And, coming back, thrust out her head, Which, sticking there, she said, 'This is the hole, there can't be blunder: What makes it now so small, I wonder, Where, but the other day, I pa.s.s'd with ease?'

A rat her trouble sees, And cries, 'But with an emptier belly; You enter'd lean, and lean must sally.'

What I have said to you Has eke been said to not a few, Who, in a vast variety of cases,[26]

Have ventured into such-like places.

[25] Aesop: also in Horace, _Epistles_, Book I. 7.

[26] _A vast variety of cases_.--Chamfort says of this pa.s.sage: "La Fontaine, with his usual delicacy, here alludes to the king's farmers and other officers in place; and abruptly quits the subject as if he felt himself on ticklish ground."

XVIII.--THE CAT AND THE OLD RAT.[27]

A story-writer of our sort Historifies, in short, Of one that may be reckon'd A Rodilard the Second,--[28]

The Alexander of the cats, The Attila,[29] the scourge of rats, Whose fierce and whisker'd head Among the latter spread, A league around, its dread; Who seem'd, indeed, determined The world should be unvermined.

The planks with props more false than slim, The tempting heaps of poison'd meal, The traps of wire and traps of steel, Were only play compared with him.

At length, so sadly were they scared.

The rats and mice no longer dared To show their thievish faces Outside their hiding-places, Thus shunning all pursuit; whereat Our crafty General Cat Contrived to hang himself, as dead, Beside the wall with downward head, Resisting gravitation's laws By clinging with his hinder claws To some small bit of string.

The rats esteem'd the thing A judgment for some naughty deed, Some thievish s.n.a.t.c.h, Or ugly scratch; And thought their foe had got his meed By being hung indeed.

With hope elated all Of laughing at his funeral, They thrust their noses out in air; And now to show their heads they dare; Now dodging back, now venturing more; At last upon the larder's store They fall to filching, as of yore.

A scanty feast enjoy'd these shallows; Down dropp'd the hung one from his gallows, And of the hindmost caught.

'Some other tricks to me are known,'

Said he, while tearing bone from bone, 'By long experience taught; The point is settled, free from doubt, That from your holes you shall come out.'

His threat as good as prophecy Was proved by Mr. Mildandsly; For, putting on a mealy robe, He squatted in an open tub, And held his purring and his breath;-- Out came the vermin to their death.

On this occasion, one old stager, A rat as grey as any badger, Who had in battle lost his tail, Abstained from smelling at the meal; And cried, far off, 'Ah! General Cat, I much suspect a heap like that; Your meal is not the thing, perhaps, For one who knows somewhat of traps; Should you a sack of meal become, I'd let you be, and stay at home.'

Well said, I think, and prudently, By one who knew distrust to be The parent of security.

[27] Phaedrus, Book IV. 2: also in Aesop, and Faerno.

[28] _Rodilard the Second._--Another allusion to Rabelais's cat Rodilardus. See Fable II., Book II.

[29] _Attila_.--The King of the Huns, who, for overrunning half Europe, was termed the Scourge of G.o.d.

BOOK IV.

I.--THE LION IN LOVE.[1]

To Mademoiselle De Sevigne.[2]

Sevigne, type of every grace In female form and face, In your regardlessness of men, Can you show favour when The sportive fable craves your ear, And see, unmoved by fear, A lion's haughty heart Thrust through by Love's audacious dart?

Strange conqueror, Love! And happy he, And strangely privileged and free, Who only knows by story Him and his feats of glory!

If on this subject you are wont To think the simple truth too blunt, The fabulous may less affront; Which now, inspired with grat.i.tude, Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, Doth venture to intrude Within your maiden solitude, And kneel, your humble servant.-- In times when animals were speakers, Among the quadrupedal seekers Of our alliance There came the lions.

And wherefore not? for then They yielded not to men In point of courage or of sense, Nor were in looks without pretence.

A high-born lion, on his way Across a meadow, met one day A shepherdess, who charm'd him so, That, as such matters ought to go, He sought the maiden for his bride.

Her sire, it cannot be denied, Had much preferr'd a son-in-law Of less terrific mouth and paw.

It was not easy to decide-- The lion might the gift abuse-- 'Twas not quite prudent to refuse.

And if refusal there should be, Perhaps a marriage one would see, Some morning, made clandestinely.

For, over and above The fact that she could bear With none but males of martial air, The lady was in love With him of s.h.a.ggy hair.

Her sire, much wanting cover To send away the lover, Thus spoke:--'My daughter, sir, Is delicate. I fear to her Your fond caressings Will prove rough blessings.

To banish all alarm About such sort of harm, Permit us to remove the cause, By filing off your teeth and claws.

In such a case, your royal kiss Will be to her a safer bliss, And to yourself a sweeter; Since she will more respond To those endearments fond With which you greet her.'

The lion gave consent at once, By love so great a dunce!

Without a tooth or claw now view him-- A fort with cannon spiked.

The dogs, let loose upon him, slew him, All biting safely where they liked.

O, tyrant Love! when held by you, We may to prudence bid adieu.

[1] Aesop, also Verdizotti.

[2] _Mademoiselle de Sevigne_.--Francoise-Marguerite de Sevigne, afterwards Madame de Grignan, the daughter of the celebrated Madame de Sevigne. The famous Sevigne "Letters" were for the most part addressed to Madame de Grignan. For some account of Madame de Sevigne and La Fontaine, see the Translator's Preface; also note to Fable XI.

Book VII.

II.--THE SHEPHERD AND THE SEA.[3]

A shepherd, neighbour to the sea, Lived with his flock contentedly.

His fortune, though but small, Was safe within his call.

At last some stranded kegs of gold Him tempted, and his flock he sold, Turn'd merchant, and the ocean's waves Bore all his treasure--to its caves.

Brought back to keeping sheep once more, But not chief shepherd, as before, When sheep were his that grazed the sh.o.r.e, He who, as Corydon or Thyrsis, Might once have shone in pastoral verses, Bedeck'd with rhyme and metre, Was nothing now but Peter.

But time and toil redeem'd in full Those harmless creatures rich in wool; And as the lulling winds, one day, The vessels wafted with a gentle motion, 'Want you,' he cried, 'more money, Madam Ocean?

Address yourself to some one else, I pray; You shall not get it out of me!

I know too well your treachery.'

This tale's no fiction, but a fact, Which, by experience back'd, Proves that a single penny, At present held, and certain, Is worth five times as many, Of Hope's, beyond the curtain; That one should be content with his condition, And shut his ears to counsels of ambition, More faithless than the wreck-strown sea, and which Doth thousands beggar where it makes one rich,-- Inspires the hope of wealth, in glorious forms, And blasts the same with piracy and storms.

[3] Aesop.

III.--THE FLY AND THE ANT.[4]

A fly and ant, upon a sunny bank, Discuss'd the question of their rank.

'O Jupiter!' the former said, 'Can love of self so turn the head, That one so mean and crawling, And of so low a calling, To boast equality shall dare With me, the daughter of the air?