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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 % (junto]} of jf abks. 
 
 i isr "v:e:r,s:e]- 
 
 FOR THE MOST PART PARAPHRASED OR IMITATED 
 FROM VARIOUS LANGUAGES. 
 
 By W. B. EVANS. 
 
 " Duplex libelli dos est: quod risum movet; 
 Et quod prudenti vitam consilio monet." 
 
 Ph.'ed. Fab. 
 
 " Beloved as Fable, yet believed as Truth." 
 
 Bulwer-Lytton. 
 
 LONDON: 
 EOBEET HAEDWICKE, 192, PICCADILLY. 
 
 I860.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 cox and wtman, printers, great queen street, 
 
 lincoln's-inn fields.
 
 WW 
 
 TO 
 THE RIGHT HON. 
 
 THE LORD BROUGHAM, 
 
 Chancellor of the Knifrersitg of (^oinburgfr, 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 
 
 IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF KIND ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 RECEIVED AT HIS HANDS BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 '
 
 PBEFACE. 
 
 This unpretending Work is offered to the public, 
 not as the mature and studied production of a pro- 
 fessed author, but merely as the fruit of literary 
 recreation to which the Writer has been enabled to 
 devote himself in the restricted leisure which a jour- 
 neyman printer may enjoy ; or perhaps he might be 
 permitted to say, as the precursory blossoms of a fruit 
 which he trusts may subsequently develop itself. 
 
 Attached to the study of languages, for philological 
 purposes, the fruit of this study the Author hopes to 
 exhibit hereafter in the form of scientific writings. 
 Meanwhile, with, as he believes, some natural or ac- 
 quired aptitude for versification, but lacking that 
 poetical imagination which would enable him to pro- 
 duce original verse of much worth, he has varied his 
 severer studies, from time to time, by rendering into 
 English metre any attractive foreign poems met with 
 in his reading, when they were not of such length as 
 to distract his attention from more solid employment.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 By this means he has accumulated a number of me- 
 trical translations (some of which have appeared in 
 " Beautiful Poetry " and other Magazines) ; and 
 among these, some months ago, he possessed a number 
 of Fables, — a species of composition to which he had 
 ever been partial. 
 
 These Fables were twenty or more in number : 
 and to them the Author resolved to add sufficient to 
 constitute a collection which might assume the form 
 of a small volume, and, after some further progress, 
 fixed the number he would translate at one hundred, 
 to be published under the title of this work. 
 
 But in proceeding to carry out this intention, he 
 found himself constrained to modify his original plan 
 of merely translating from poetical versions, and of 
 admitting only such Fables as were almost or entirely 
 unknown to English readers ; for, in following this 
 method, he could scarcely have obtained a hundred 
 Fables, even from collections containing thousands, 
 equal to his proposed standard of excellence. There- 
 fore, extending his field of selection, he began to cull 
 from prose as well as poetical authors, even including, 
 in some few instances, English authors of the former 
 class, and makiug new metrical versions of various 
 Fables which have long been popular in a prose dress ;
 
 PREFACE. Vll 
 
 but, as far as lie knew, he always avoided competition 
 with any popular translator or adapter. 
 
 While increasing his stock of materials, the Author 
 also found it advisable to vary his mode of dealing 
 with them ; that is to say, instead of merely trans- 
 lating even in a free manner, he began to paraphrase, 
 imitate, or adapt ; and in some cases wrote Fables 
 which had little but the moral in common with those 
 by which they were suggested. 
 
 In short, his object has not been to represent 
 authors, but to present Fables in the best English 
 form he could ; and he hopes that in general the marks 
 of the translator will not be found upon his work. 
 If he has not succeeded in so thoroughly anglicizing 
 his originals as to obliterate all traces of alien diction 
 or habits of thought, he has failed in his purpose ; but 
 if his more critical readers, on perusal of a Fable 
 previously unfamiliar to them, should turn to the 
 Table of Contents to discover the primary author 
 and his language, the Writer would feel this a cause 
 for self-gratulation. In this table he has sought to 
 define the obligations under which he lies to various 
 writers ; attributing to them the invention of the 
 story, while often claiming for himself the authorship 
 of the poem, whatever credit may be attached to this.
 
 Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 It is not pretended, however, that the authors 
 mentioned are in all cases the original inventors of the 
 Fables attributed to them. Often the same Fable has 
 been found in several collections, without any acknow- 
 ledgment of one author to another. In fact, Fabulists 
 have not been in the habit of confessing their debts ; 
 and even a wide acquaintance with foreign literature, 
 and a chronological knowledge which the writer of 
 this volume does not possess, would scarcely avail to 
 apportion each his dues. The proximate sources of 
 the Fables have, therefore, only been indicated. 
 
 The ultimate pecuniary object of the present publi- 
 cation, should it haply enjoy sufficient success, is to 
 provide means for the purchase of works which the 
 Author needs for the further prosecution of his 
 studies. Holding, and having held for some few 
 years, a situation in a superior department of his 
 calling — namely, as a corrector of the press* — he is 
 not necessitated to resort to authorship in order to 
 
 * At the office of Messrs. Cox and Wyman, where this book 
 has been printed, and which has had the honour of employing, 
 among other celebrated members of the printing trade, Benjamin 
 Franklin, Douglas Jerrold, and Laman Blanchard ; and has 
 also within the Author's limited period of service retained 
 among its workmen at least half a dozen, previously, simulta- 
 neously, or subsequently, authors of works, or writers for the 
 periodical press.
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 procure a respectable livelihood. But as still a 
 printer, and as the son of a journeyman carpenter 
 and joiner yet working in that capacity, he claims 
 for his book whatever consideration and indulgence 
 may be clue to the production of one who in his 
 youth received no higher education than a working- 
 man's son miffht then attain, and who at the age of 
 
 *■& 
 
 thirteen commenced his own career of labour, and 
 has had to exercise his literary pursuits after the 
 performance of his daily employment, and amid the 
 distractions of domestic life. 
 
 To those Noblemen, Ladies, and Gentlemen who 
 have so kindly countenanced the Author's efforts by 
 ordering copies of this volume, and whose names he 
 is proud to append thereto, he begs to tender his 
 sincere thanks. He only hopes it may be deemed 
 in some measure worthy of their support. The 
 aggregate amount of their subscriptions will go far 
 towards preventing any loss upon the publication ; 
 and the kind recommendations of those who may 
 approve the contents of the work, and who have 
 leisure to give it the benefit of their influence, will 
 doubtless increase its sale to an extent which will at 
 least repay the outlay, if it should not leave a profit 
 applicable to the intended object.
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 In the event of the book enjoying such a degree 
 of favour as to warrant its author in again appearing 
 before the jDublic, he would seek their support for a 
 volume of miscellaneous poetical translations, a few of 
 which have already received the honour of publication 
 in various periodicals ; but if this venture, on the 
 contrary, should not attain that success which would 
 warrant liim in attempting a second of a similar 
 nature, he must be content with devoting his leisure 
 solely to grammatical and philological writings, for 
 which he has accumulated various materials, and in 
 which some seven years ago, in the latter years of his 
 apprenticeship, he made a humble beginning, as well 
 as in his attemj)ts at versification, in the Students' 
 Page of the "Home Circle," under the signature 
 
 of 
 
 Ein Yom Li. 
 
 15, Seymour Street, N.W. 
 December, 1859.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. — Truth and Fiction. Imitated from Florian 1 
 
 2. — The Flight of the Ostrich. Versified from Lcssing 3 
 
 3. — The Donkey's Voice. Imitated from Claudius ... . 4 
 4.— The Lark and the Greenfinch. Suggested by a 
 
 Fable of Gellert 5 
 
 5.— The Swan and the Crows. Adapted from Schmitt 6 
 6. — The Idiot by the Brook. Suggested by a Fable of 
 
 Florian 8 
 
 7.— The Fox and the Crane. Suggested by a Fable of 
 
 JEsop 9 
 
 8. — The Fly and the Moth. Paraphrased from Grillo 10 
 
 9.— The Fox and the Mask. Versified from Lessing 13 
 
 10. — The Dancing-bear. Paraphrased from Gellert .... 14 
 11. —The Nightingale and the Owl. Translated from 
 
 Bertola 16 
 
 12. — The Lion, the Ass, and the Fox. Versified from 
 
 Perrin's Fables 17 
 
 13. — The Horse and the Bull. Versified from Lessing 18 
 
 14. — -The Two Frogs. Paraphrased from JEsop ib. 
 
 15. — The Hunters and the Bear. Paraphrased from 
 
 Schmid 20 
 
 16. — The Jackdaw and the Peacocks. Versified from 
 
 a forgotten source 22 
 
 17. — The Flower and the Cloud. Imitated from 
 
 Lachambeaudie 24 
 
 18. — The Loire and the Ocean. Translated from the 
 
 same 25
 
 XII CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 19. — The Old Man and Death. Paraphrased from jEsop 26 
 20. — The Miser and the Magpie. Versified from 
 
 Perrin's Fables 28 
 
 21.— The Fox and the Oak. Versified from Lessing ... . 29 
 22. — The Boy and the Butterfly. Imitated from Be 
 
 Rossi 30 
 
 23. — The Farmer and his Watch-dog. Suggested by a 
 
 Speech of J. A . Roebuck, Esq., M.P 31 
 
 24. — The Astrologer. Translated from Grille- 34 
 
 25. — The Hunter and his Hound. Imitated from 
 
 Phcedrus 35 
 
 26. — The Crow and the Raven. Versified from Perrin's 
 
 Fables 36 
 
 27. — The Cur and the Mastiff. Original 37 
 
 28. — The Fly and the Ant. Paraphrased from Phadrus 38 
 29. — The Wolf and the Shepherds. Versified from 
 
 Perrin's Fables 40 
 
 30. — The Two Bald Men. Imitated from Florian 41 
 
 31. — The Ass and the Flute. Imitated from the same . 42 
 32. — The Butterfly and the Bee. Paraphrased from 
 
 Perrin's Fables 43 
 
 33. — The Frogs and the Sun. Paraphrased from 
 
 Phwdrus 46 
 
 34. — The Stag and his Son. Adapted from Lessing.. .. 47 
 35. — The Ass in the Lion's Skin. Versified from a 
 
 Persian Reading-booh 48 
 
 36. — The Swan and the Goose. Translated from the 
 
 French 49 
 
 37. — The Bose and the Peony. Paraphrased from 
 
 Willamow 50 
 
 38. — The Wolf's Mourning. Versified from Lessing. .. . 51 
 39. — The Fox that lost his Tail. Paraphrased from 
 
 Grillo 52 
 
 40. — The Butterfly and the Silkworm. Translated 
 
 from Lachambeaudie 55
 
 CONTENTS. Xlll 
 
 PAGE 
 
 41. — The Lamb and the Wolf. Paraphrased from 
 
 Phcedrus 56 
 
 42. — The Goose and the Boar. Adapted from jEsop . . 57 
 
 43. — The Ivy and the Bramble. Imitated from Iriarte 58 
 44. — The Flt in the Cathedral. Versified from an 
 
 English Collection 59 
 
 45. — The Step-ladder. Versified from Pfeffel 60 
 
 46. — The Wolf and the Hedgehog. Versified from 
 
 Perrin's Fables 61 
 
 47. — The Monkey and the Dogs. Original 62 
 
 48. — The Piece of Clay. Translated from Saadi 65 
 
 49. — The Butterfly on the Rose. Translated from 
 
 Bertola 66 
 
 50. — Winter and Spring. Translated from the French . . 67 
 
 51 . — The Dog and the Sheep. Imitated from Florian . . 68 
 52. — The Cat and the Cheese. Versified from an 
 
 English Collection 69 
 
 53. — The Bee and the Wasp. Paraphrased from Florian 71 
 
 54. — The Criminal Dog. Imitated from the saine 72 
 
 55. — The Cuckoo. Paraphrased from Gellert 74 
 
 56. — The Two Mules and the Robbers. Paraphrased 
 
 from Phwdrics 76 
 
 57. — The Crane and the Trout. Suggested by a Fable 
 
 of Grillo 77 
 
 58. — The Wind and the Sun. Imitated from La 
 
 Fontaine 78 
 
 59. — The Dog and his Shadow. Paraphrased from 
 
 Phcedrus 81 
 
 60. — The Fox, the Wolf, and the Horse. Versified 
 
 from Perrin's Fables 82 
 
 61. — The Tight-rope Dancer. Imitated from Iriarte . . 84 
 
 62. — The Dogs and the Lions. Versified from Lessing . . 86 
 
 63. — The Dog in the Manger. Versified firm an English 87 
 
 Collection 87 
 
 64. — The Crow and the Fox. Paraphrased from Phcedrus 88
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 65. — The Hawk and the Thrush. Versified from Lessing 89 
 66.— The Old Lion and the Fox. Paraphrased from 
 
 JEsop 90 
 
 67. — The Two Lizards and the Deer. Paraphrased 
 
 from Perrin's Fables 91 
 
 68. — The Swan and the Drake. Suggested by a Fable 
 
 of Gleim 93 
 
 69. — The Gardener and his Ape. Adapted from a 
 
 Fable of Bidpai 94 
 
 70. — The Lion, the Wolf, and the Fox. Paraphrased 
 
 from Perrin's Fables 96 
 
 71. — The Silkworm and the Spider. Paraphrased from 
 
 Florian 98 
 
 72. — The Gazelle and her Friends. Suggested by a 
 
 Fable of Lolcman 100 
 
 73. — The Blacksmith and his Dog. Versified from 
 
 Lolcman 101 
 
 74. — The Suicide and the Miser. Paraphrased from 
 
 Grillo 102 
 
 75. — The Ape in the Water. Imitated from a Fable in 
 
 Ramler's Collection 106 
 
 76. — The Eagle and the Arrow. Versified from Jlsop 107 
 
 77. — The Flying-fish. Imitated from Florian 108 
 
 78. — The Nightingale and the Frogs. Versified from 
 
 Lessing 109 
 
 79. — The Hermit, the Falcon, and the Raven. 
 
 Adapted from Bidpai 110 
 
 80. — The Beautiful Flower. Translated from the French 110 
 81. — The Crow and the Gods. Versified from jEsop .. 113 
 82. — The Hunter, the Leopard, and the Fox. Imitated 
 
 from Bidpai 114 
 
 83. — The Horse, the Boar, and the Man. Paraphrased 
 
 from Phcedrus « 116 
 
 84. — The Fox and the Grapes. Paraphrased from 
 
 Phcedrus US
 
 CONTENTS. XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 85. — The Lioness and the Wildcat. Suggested by a 
 
 Fable of Lohman 119 
 
 86. — The Pilgrim and the King. Translated from the 
 
 French 120 
 
 87. — The Fly and the Bull. Versified from Lohman 121 
 88. — The Dog and the Donkey. Imitated from Nicolay 122 
 89. — Msop and the Blockhead. Paraphrased from 
 
 Phcedrus 123 
 
 90 — The Wolf and the Stork. Paraphrased from 
 
 jFsop 124 
 
 91. — The Jasmine and the Wallflower. Imitated 
 
 from, De Rossi 125 
 
 92. — The Boy in the Stream. Versified from Lokman 127 
 93. — The Two Travellers and the Oyster. Imitated 
 
 from Grillo 128 
 
 94. — The Lion and the Ass. Paraphrased from Gleim 130 
 95. — The Bee and the Tomtit. Imitated from the same 131 
 96. — The Horse and the Ass. Suggested by a Fable of 
 
 Leasing 132 
 
 97. — The Nightingale and the Cuckoo. Imitated 
 
 from Gellert ib. 
 
 98. — Merops. Versified from Lessing 134 
 
 99. — The Bose and the Tomb. Translated from Victor 
 
 Hugo 135 
 
 100. — The Lark in the Cage. Original ib.
 
 TABLE 
 
 SHOWING THE NATIONALITY OP THE AUTHORS MENTIONED 
 IN THE CONTENTS. 
 
 ^Esop Greek. 
 
 Bertola Italian. 
 
 Bidpai Hindoo. 
 
 Claudius German. 
 
 De Rossi Italian. 
 
 Florian French. 
 
 Gelleet German. 
 
 Gleim German. 
 
 Grillo Italian. 
 
 Iriarte Spanish. 
 
 Laohambeaudie French. 
 
 La Fontaine French. 
 
 Lessing German. 
 
 Lokman A rabic. 
 
 Perrin French. 
 
 Pfeffel German. 
 
 Phjedrus Latin. 
 
 Ramler German. 
 
 Saadi Persian. 
 
 Schmid German. 
 
 Schmitt German. 
 
 Victor Hugo French. 
 
 Willamow German.
 
 A CENTUET OF FABLES. 
 
 Cntflj airfr $utxan. 
 
 When long in hiding Truth had lain, 
 One day she left her Well again,* 
 And, naked as of yore, began 
 To seek a resting -place with man. 
 But young and old, where'er she came, 
 Retired before her, crying " Shame ! " 
 And none would greet the ancient maid, 
 Whose charms, alas ! began to fade. 
 
 Thus as she wander'd on her way, 
 She met with Fiction, smart and gay, — 
 A favorite now, and richly drest 
 In silks and velvets of the best, 
 
 * For the benefit of some youthful readers, I may state, that 
 the ancients feigned Truth to have hidden at the bottom of a 
 Well, whither she had fled from men's ill-treatment. 
 
 B
 
 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 And trinim'd with gems, that seem'd as bright, 
 Though mostly false, as true ones might. 
 
 " Good day," said Fiction ; " how d 'you do 1 
 Why walk you so exposed to view 1" — 
 "Alas!" said Truth, "I seek to gain 
 Some quiet refuge, but in vain. 
 Men leave me houseless, sad, and cold ; 
 For none will harbour one so old." — 
 " Why," answer'd Fiction, " as to age, 
 You scai'ce exceed me I'll engage ; 
 But what with dress, and all that decks 
 The fading members of our sex, 
 I still am courted as in youth. 
 And let me tell you, Madam Truth, 
 That people think you rather rude 
 In thus appearing wholly nude. 
 What say you — will you be my friend ? 
 Let our respective interests blend : 
 You seek to teach, and I to charm ; 
 Come let us wander arm in arm. 
 Beneath my mantle you will find 
 A good reception from mankind, 
 While in return you lend to me 
 A little of your dignity. 
 As my companion you'll obtain 
 A hearing with the fools and vain ; 
 While I shall win, by leading you, 
 Attention from the prudent few. 
 Let me adorn the tale, my friend, — 
 You point the moral at the end."
 
 THE FLIGHT OF THE OSTRICH. 
 
 As Fiction ceased, Truth gave assent, 
 And thus in company they went. 
 
 This fable shows how fables grew 
 From union of the false and true. 
 
 II. 
 
 Cjp JfBoJjt 0f % (Dsirkfj. 
 
 " I'm going to fly ! " the Ostrich cried, 
 And flapp'd his wings with swelling pride. 
 The birds flock'd round from every part, 
 And waited to behold him start. 
 " I'm going to fly ! " again he said ; 
 And then with pinions widely spread, 
 As runs a ship with crowded sail 
 Before a favorable gale, 
 He skimm'd the ground with nimble pace, 
 But never rose above its face. 
 
 Such ostriches we often find, 
 In men of heavy, prosy mind, 
 Who talk when they begin to write 
 Of soaring in poetic flight, 
 And threaten to invade the skies, 
 Yet never from the dust can rise. 
 
 b2
 
 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 III. 
 
 Clje glonkei/s Warn. 
 
 " A hapless fate, alas, is mine ! " 
 The Donkey sigh'd one day. 
 
 "On' straw or thistles I must dine, 
 Without a bit of hay. 
 
 " And as to corn, there's none for me, 
 
 As far as eating goes ; 
 For much as on my back may be, 
 
 There's none before my nose. 
 
 " From summer heat or winter cold 
 
 Small shelter I obtain ; 
 And all my days, from young to old, 
 
 I lead a life of pain. 
 
 "Upon the common in my youth 
 Boys would not let me rest ; 
 
 And now, alas ! by men uncouth 
 I'm beaten and opprest. 
 
 " But while so much the fates deny, 
 
 I cannot but rejoice, 
 To think that of all creatures I 
 
 Have far the finest voice."
 
 THE LARK AND THE GREENFINCH. 
 
 Like donkeys we may oft detect 
 Among the human race, 
 
 Who look upon their worst defect 
 As an unequali'd grace. 
 
 IV. 
 
 (tlie %ixx\\ anfcr % feenfmtlj. 
 
 Beside a door two cages hung : 
 
 From one a Lark's clear music rung ; 
 
 A Greenfinch twitter'd in the other ; 
 
 When, passing near them with his mother, 
 
 A little boy delighted heard 
 
 The tones of the melodious bird. 
 
 " Come," said his mother, " can you say 
 
 Which bird is trilling that rich lay ?" — 
 
 " Oh," cried the child, " the one in green, 
 
 The prettiest bird I've ever seen ; 
 
 For surely that, which looks so plain, 
 
 Could never sing so sweet a strain !" — 
 
 " Nay, child," the mother said, " you're wrong ; 
 
 'Tis he pours forth that thrilling song. 
 
 Look closely now, — see how his throat 
 
 Is cmivering with each rising note ; 
 
 And never judge of birds or men 
 
 By outside finery again."
 
 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 Cfr* Sbratt imb lb Cmtoi;. 
 
 Clad in plumage white as snow, 
 On a lake a Swan was sailing ; 
 
 On the margin stood a Crow, 
 At the stately creature railing : 
 
 " Pretty goose you look, I'm sure, 
 In your glaring feathers, madam ! 
 
 Call 'em chaste, forsooth, and pure ! 
 Should be sorry if I had 'em." 
 
 So the saucy Crow went on, 
 
 Of the swimmer's beauty jealous, 
 
 Calling to behold the Swan 
 Quite a dozen of her fellows. 
 
 Then, while some began to prate 
 In their vulgar Crowish chatter, 
 
 Some were mimicking her gait, 
 Others making faces at her. 
 
 But the noble-minded bird 
 Calmly floated by the rabble, 
 
 Deigning not to say a word 
 In reply to all their gabble.
 
 THE SWAN AND THE CROWS. 
 
 Cried an ugly-looking Crow, 
 
 Very old and very sooty : 
 " See, there's nice black mud below ; 
 
 Let us paint the pretty beauty ! " 
 
 So, to vent their envious ire, 
 
 Filling up their beaks, they flutter'd 
 
 Round their victim, and the mire 
 O'er her plumage thickly sputter'd. 
 
 Then the old malicious jade, 
 Seeing their success in tainting 
 
 All the fair white feathers, said : 
 
 " Ain't we first-rate hands at painting ! " 
 
 When at last the work was done 
 
 To the painters' satisfaction, 
 To the bank they one by one 
 
 Fled to chuckle o'er their action. 
 
 But the meek, insulted Swan, 
 Diving down beneath the water, 
 
 Rose, as they were looking on, 
 
 Fairer than they ever thought her, — 
 
 Saying : " You perceive, the slime 
 That you dabbled in, poor creatures, 
 
 Serves at present to begrime, 
 
 ISTot myself, but your own features."
 
 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 Human crows with slanclei-'s mud 
 Vainly smear your reputation ; 
 
 Time will prove the cleansing flood 
 To undo the operation. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Clje Ibbi bn flje grcroh. 
 
 An Idiot-boy, with earnest look, 
 
 Stood gazing on a little brook. 
 
 " Lad," said an old man passing by, 
 
 Who mark'd the stripling's steadfast eye,. 
 
 " Why gaze you so upon the stream 1" 
 
 The youth look'd up ; a fitful gleam 
 
 Of half-intelligence o'erspread 
 
 His simple features, as he said : 
 
 '■ I'm going ovei', but shall stay 
 
 Till all the water runs away." — 
 
 " You'd stay your life," the man replied, 
 
 " And yet not reach the other side ; 
 
 For long as time this brook will flow, 
 
 And you must wade, if you would go." 
 
 So, reader, stand not looking on, 
 
 Till difficulty's waves be gone ; 
 
 But wade or swim through brook or river ; 
 
 For they will flow and flow for ever.
 
 THE FOX AND THE CRANE, 
 
 VII. 
 
 fojxe Jf0* nvfo tin Craixc. 
 
 A Fox, who in some poaching fray 
 Had been severely wounded, lay, 
 With none to aid him, at the brink 
 Of death for want of food and drink ; 
 And long he moan'd for aid in vain, 
 When passing near he saw a Crane, 
 And begg'd her in her pouch to bring 
 Some water from a neighbouring spring, 
 To quench his burning thirst, and save 
 A friend from an untimely grave, 
 When he had drunk, with strength renew'd, 
 He might proceed in search of food. 
 
 "Not far in search, my worthy friend /" 
 Replied the Crane : " were I to lend 
 My aid to carry thee the drink, 
 The food would come with me, I think." 
 
 A knave, for perfidy renown'd, 
 
 In. real woe has often found 
 
 That none, to succour him, would dare 
 
 The chance of meeting with a snare.
 
 10 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 8>{p |It aitir % Sffrify. 
 
 As round a room a Fly career'd 
 
 One summer nijrht 
 
 By candle-light, 
 And in his passage peer'd 
 
 With curious look 
 
 In every nook, 
 He saw a glass of honey placed 
 
 Upon a shelf, 
 
 And set himself 
 Upon the rim to have a taste ; 
 
 But in the glass 
 
 He found, alas ! 
 Too low to reach the honey lay. 
 
 Still from so rare 
 
 And rich a fare 
 He would not lightly turn away. 
 
 Awhile he stopp'd, 
 
 Then softly dropp'd 
 Down lower for a nearer look, 
 
 Until his feet 
 
 Were on the sweet, 
 And then a trial sip he took. 
 
 This was so nice, 
 
 That in a trice,
 
 THE FLY AND THE MOTH. 11 
 
 Deep in he plunged his eager trunk ; 
 
 But now he found 
 
 Himself half drown'd, 
 And as he struggled deeper sunk, 
 
 Until at last 
 
 His feet were fast 
 Entangled as a bird's in lime. 
 
 A Moth came by, 
 
 And saw him lie, 
 And chid him thus in tone sublime : 
 
 " It serves you right 
 
 That such a plight 
 You should be in, O greedy fool ! 
 
 The fault 's your own, 
 
 You should have known 
 'Tis best to act by reason's rule, 
 
 Nor let desire 
 
 Your deeds inspire." 
 Thus having said, away he went, 
 
 And left the Fly 
 
 Alone to die, 
 With none to aid him, or lament 
 
 So sad a fate 
 
 Should him await. 
 Not long the Moth had held his way 
 
 In circles wide, 
 
 When he espied 
 A lamp that on a table lay ; 
 
 Then nearer drew 
 
 For better view,
 
 12 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 And play'd and flutter'd round the light, 
 
 Until he came 
 
 Close to the flame, 
 With giddy brain and dazzled sight ; 
 
 And then, at last 
 
 All caution past, 
 He madly flew into the fire, 
 
 And straightway fell, 
 
 Burnt to a shell, 
 Upon the table to expire. 
 
 The captive Fly, 
 
 Who lay hard by, 
 Imprison'd still, but not yet dead, 
 
 Perceived the Moth 
 
 Upon the cloth 
 In death's last agonies, and said : 
 
 " Can it be true, 
 
 Poor wretch ! that you, 
 Who preach'd to me awhile ago, 
 
 For just the same 
 
 Are now to blame 
 As what in me you censured so ! 
 
 You more than I 
 
 Deserve to die : 
 If all your actions you had learn 'd, 
 
 From my sad fate, 
 
 To regulate 
 By reason, you had not been burn'd 
 
 Through your desire 
 
 To play with fire." —
 
 THE FOX AND THE MASK. 
 
 And now the moral need I write 1 
 
 That death oft lies 
 
 In specious guise 
 Where we discover but delight ; 
 
 That sense is blind, 
 
 When by the mind 
 Not well directed and controll'd ; 
 
 And, secondly, 
 
 That none should be 
 To blame another's faults too bold 
 
 Ere he corrects 
 
 His own defects. 
 
 13 
 
 IX. 
 
 CIj* Jf0# imtr % Utesk. 
 
 One day of old a Fox had found 
 A hollow mask upon the ground, 
 Such as by ancient actors worn, 
 In which a gaping mouth was torn : 
 " Oh, what a head ! no brain inside, 
 And yet a mouth extremely wide ! 
 It must be," cried the subtle Fox, 
 " The cranium of a chatterbox." 
 
 The sly brute knew you, it appears, 
 Chastisers of our harmless ears.
 
 14 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 X. 
 
 A Bear, that long-time had been led 
 
 About to dance for daily bread, 
 
 Escaped, and sought his native wold, 
 
 Where bears he'd known in days of old 
 
 Met him with brotherly embrace, 
 
 And growl'd the tidings through the place ; 
 
 And when a bear another spied, 
 
 " Friend Peto's here again ! " he cried. 
 
 Then quite a crowd began to meet, 
 
 Their old associate to greet, 
 
 AVho all were "glad to see him well," 
 
 And bid him his adventures tell. 
 
 So, with preliminary " Hem ! " 
 
 His travels he described to them ; 
 
 Told what he'd done, and where he'd been, 
 
 And what he'd heard, and what he'd seen ; 
 
 And as a dancer, how his pas * 
 
 Had everywhere obtain'd applause ; 
 
 And then, some notion to impart 
 
 Of the Terpsichorean art, 
 
 Upon his hinder legs he stood, 
 
 And danced before the multitude. 
 
 The bears look'd on in mute surprise, 
 
 * Lege, si mavis, paws.
 
 THE DANCING-BEAR. 15 
 
 And scarcely could believe their eyes ; 
 
 But when awhile they had admired, 
 
 To imitate they next aspired. 
 
 But 'twould have made you laugh to view 
 
 The efforts of the clumsy crew ; 
 
 For strive and struggle as they might, 
 
 But few could hold themselves upright ; 
 
 And those who made a single bound 
 
 Measured their length upon the ground. 
 
 At last they found 'twas all in vain 
 
 Their joints to jerk and strength to strain ; 
 
 And, vexed at failure so complete 
 
 In mimicking the dancer's feat,* 
 
 Began, first one and then another, 
 
 Abusing their accomplish'd brother. 
 
 " Go, slave, " said one, " and play again 
 
 Thy paltry tricks among the men ! " — 
 
 " We want none here," another cried, 
 
 " Our native manners to deride ! " — 
 
 " Our limbs, " a third said, " shall we school 
 
 To uncouth antics, like this fool 1 " 
 
 And as their spite and anger rose, 
 
 They drove him from the place with blows. 
 
 The Dancing-Bear was grieved to find 
 His fellow-brutes so like mankind : 
 It was a fault of men, he knew, 
 To rail at what they could not do. 
 
 * Lege hie etiam, si mavis, feet.
 
 16 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In a lonely thicket singing, 
 
 Sat a Nightingale, 
 Floods of gushing music flinging 
 
 O'er the dusky dale. 
 
 None could hear the lay melodious 
 
 Save a sombre Owl, 
 Who, intent on murder odious, 
 
 Wander' d like a ghoul. 
 
 Said the rover : " What can move thee, 
 
 Noisy, witless thing ! 
 Thus by night, while none approve thee ; 
 
 All alone to singf 1 " 
 
 o 
 
 But the Nightingale, discreetly, 
 Answer'd not a word ; 
 
 Only caroll'd on more sweetly 
 For the scoffs he heard : 
 
 As he would have told the pirate, 
 In each thrilling chord, 
 
 Virtue, though none may admire it, 
 Is its own reward.
 
 THE LION, THE ASS, AND THE FOX. 17 
 
 XII. 
 
 CIj* ijtcm, % %s$, aitb tin $n%. 
 
 The Lion once took, out of whim, 
 The Ass and Fox to hunt with him. 
 They coursed the forest to and fro, 
 Until they slew a fine fat doe. 
 " Now, Donkey," said the Monarch, " share 
 The booty as thou thinkest fair." 
 The Ass obey'd, and tore the food 
 In three as justly as he could. 
 Then " Here is yours," he meekly said, 
 " Your Majesty," and bow'd his head. 
 "What, dolt!" exclaimed the King, "to me 
 Thou offerest least of all the three ! 
 Thou diest !" and with a fierce blow 
 He laid the trembling Donkey low. 
 " Come, Master Renard," then he cried, 
 " Thou hast a conscience ; pray, divide." 
 Fox took himself a bit of breast, 
 And gave the Lion all the rest. 
 " That's right," the despot said ; " but tell, 
 Who taught thee to divide so well?" — 
 " The Ass," said Renard, " at your feet, 
 Has taught your slave to be discreet." 
 
 From other men's misfortunes learn 
 Not to incur such in your turn, 
 c
 
 18 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Che Morse mifr tta IStfll. 
 
 Upon a proud high -mettled Steed 
 A Boy was coursing through a mead. 
 " Oh, shame on you," a fierce Bidl cried, 
 " To let that little youngster ride 
 Upon your back, when one good bound 
 Might lay him sprawling on the ground !"- 
 "But I would scorn," replied the Horse, 
 " So meanly to exert my force ; 
 For what renown should I enjoy 
 From flinging off a little Boy 1 " 
 
 Scorn, reader, like the Horse, to seek 
 Revenge upon the small and weak. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Cjxe Ctoo Jfrofl> 
 
 In a pool two Frogs resided, 
 Where the water fast subsided 
 
 From a long-continued drought, 
 Till at last evaporation 
 So impair'd their habitation 
 
 That another must be sought.
 
 THE TWO FROGS. 19 
 
 So they started off together, 
 Seeking, but much doubting, whether 
 
 Water might on earth be found ; 
 And, indeed, they wander'd many 
 Miles ere they discover'd any 
 
 In the dry and heated ground. 
 
 But at last a well espying, 
 Where some water still was lying 
 
 At the bottom rather deep, 
 " This will suit our purpose, brother," 
 Said the one Frog to the other, 
 
 And prepared himself to leap. 
 
 " Hold," exclaim'd his friend, " a minute ! 
 Think before you venture in it, 
 
 That the water lieth low ; 
 And if moisture here should fail us, 
 All our strength would not avail us 
 
 When we found it time to go." 
 
 Learn this lesson from my fable : 
 Ne'er for benefit unstable 
 
 Put the future in suspense ; 
 Let not present satisfaction 
 Tempt you to commit an action 
 
 Ere you weigh the consequence. 
 
 c2
 
 20 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ck Hunters anfr tin Hear. 
 
 o o — • 
 
 Two Hunters, having understood 
 That somewhere in a neighbouring wood 
 A huge and savage-looking Bear 
 For several weeks had made his lair, 
 One morning went to hunt the brute ; 
 But spent the day in vain pursuit, 
 For though they met his tracks around, 
 The Bear himself could not be found. 
 
 Night came ; and, wearied with the chase, 
 They sought an inn hard-by the place, 
 Intending there to spend the night, 
 And start afresh with morning light. 
 They call'd for supper, call'd for beer, 
 And soon grew merry with their cheer ; 
 But having nought to pay the cost 
 They pled.eecl a pistol with mine host, 
 Till they could slay the Bear next day, 
 And sell his precious skin to pay. 
 
 Next morning, with the rising dew, 
 They started to the chase anew ; 
 But pass'd another day of toil, 
 And came again without the spoil 
 To seek the tavern as before, 
 And more than doubled last night's score,
 
 THE HUNTERS AND THE BEAR. 21 
 
 Convinced they couldn't fail to kill 
 The Bear next day to pay the bill. 
 
 The morrow morn they rose at four, 
 And starting on their search once more, 
 Had not been wandering long about, 
 Before the one began to shout : 
 " Look, comrade ! look ! be quick — prepare 
 For battle! yonder comes the Bear !" 
 
 And truly, crashing through the wood, 
 Some hundred yards from where they stood, 
 The long-sought Bear appear'd at last, 
 And near'd the ardent Hunters fast, 
 But fiercely growling as he came. 
 One Hunter, firing, miss'd his aim ; 
 And running off with all his might, 
 Climb'd up an oak-tree out of sight, 
 The other man prepared to shoot, 
 And pull'd the trigger on the brute — 
 But pull'd in vain ; the piece hung fire, 
 And left him powerless to retire : 
 For Bruin charged him as he shot, 
 Not fifty paces from the spot. 
 
 Down fell the Hunter, held his breath, 
 And closely counterfeited death. 
 The Bear came up, and then began, 
 To smell about the frighten'd man. 
 He sniff'd his ear, and sniff'd his nose, 
 And then his hair, and then his clothes ;
 
 22 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 And thinking lie was really dead, 
 Retired at last with stately tread 
 (For bears, as probably you know, 
 Will never rend a lifeless foe). 
 
 The Hunter who had climb'd the oak 
 Came down at length, and said in joke : 
 " Tell me, when Bruin stood so near, 
 What was he whispering in your ear?" — 
 " Oh," said his friend, " he told me then, 
 If I should hunt a bear again, 
 To kill the animal before 
 I went to sell the skin he wore." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 CIjc Jathtrato antr % ^cacatks. 
 
 A young Jackdaw one morning saw 
 A gi-oup of Peacocks on his way, 
 
 And, quite amazed, he stood and gazed 
 On their magnificent arrav. 
 
 "O 
 
 He thought he yet had never met 
 With plumage of such lovely dyes, 
 
 And much desired to be attired 
 In that incomparable guise.
 
 THE JACKDAW AND THE PEACOCKS. 23 
 
 Now close beside by chance be spied 
 
 A feather by a Peacock shed, 
 Which with a smile he scann'd awhile, 
 
 And then a thought came in his head. 
 
 He took the sleek plume in his beak, 
 And stuck it in his tail with care ; 
 
 Then look'd around till he had found 
 
 Some dozen more, and placed them there. 
 
 When this was done, he thought that one 
 Of that gay race he should be thought, 
 
 And so elate, with strutting gait, 
 Their company at once he sought. 
 
 But in surprise they bent their eyes 
 Upon the Daw as he came near ; 
 
 And scarce it took a second look, 
 
 Before the bare-faced trick was clear. 
 
 They throng'd about him with a shout, 
 And pluck'd his borrow'd plumes away, 
 
 And half his own, that he had grown, 
 Till crippled on the ground he lay. 
 
 From what occurr'd to this vain bird 
 Learn to submit to nature's law, 
 
 And not assume the Peacock's plume 
 If fate has made you but a Daw.
 
 24 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 (Lbe fkimx uvfo % Cloutr. 
 
 Ix one of summer's burning clays, 
 When Sol sent forth his fiercest rays, 
 A little Flower, whose feeble breath 
 Betoken'd fast approaching death, 
 While gazing languidly on high 
 Beheld a Cloud come floating by, 
 And begg'd him earnestly to shed 
 A little moisture on her head — 
 A gentle shower, to allay 
 Her thirst, and save her from decay. 
 
 The Cloud replied : " I cannot stop 
 Just now to give a single drop : 
 I've pressing business with the Sun, 
 But will return here when it 's done." 
 
 He went his way, and in an hour 
 The heat had killed the panting Flow'r. 
 The Cloud return'd, as he had said ; 
 And when he saw her lying dead, 
 Pour'd down a plenteous shower of rain 
 Upon her — now, alas ! in vain. 
 
 How oft a man of sterling worth, 
 Whose works were fragrance to the earth, 
 In his adversity has pray'd 
 The wealthy for a little aid,
 
 THE LOIRE AND THE OCEAN. 25 
 
 And been conipell'd to starve and wait, 
 Until the help has come too late ; 
 When gold on which he might have thriven 
 For years, had it been timely given, 
 At last has lavishly been spent 
 To build him a proud monument. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 CIn Coin ixvfo i\n <Bamx. 
 
 Arriving near its mouth, the Loire exclaim'd : 
 
 " Upon my bosom ships I bear. 
 Despising streams, and rivers wrongly named, 
 
 That cannot with myself compare." 
 But Ocean knew the boaster's humble source. 
 
 And thus indignantly replied : 
 "These modest streams and brooks, that in their coarse 
 
 Their limpid waters have supplied 
 To swell thy grandeur, and thus lost their name — 
 Vain Loire ! 'tis they have made thy power and fame. ' 
 
 And so in authorship, a haughty few 
 
 Roll their wide streams of thought along, 
 
 Forgetting oft how much thereof is due 
 To fellow-labourers in the throng.
 
 26 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 'Neath a load of firewood bending, 
 Homeward wearisomely wending, 
 Came an old Man, tottering, stumbling, 
 Through an ancient wood, and grumbling, 
 That the weight was great and tiring, 
 Yet would yield him few days' firing ; 
 That he felt him well-nigh dropping, 
 And awhile must think of stopping. 
 Then on earth his burden setting. 
 Down he sat, at once forgetting 
 All his misery in listening 
 To the birds, his dim eye glistening 
 As he thought of life's glad morning, 
 Which would never know returning, 
 When he oft had gone birdnesting 
 In the wood where he was resting, 
 Thoughtlessly the young birds taking, 
 Though their parents' hearts were breaking. 
 Thence on youth and manhood pondering 
 For a while his thoughts were wandering, 
 In his revery never heeding 
 How the time away was speeding, 
 Till the evening shades were falling. 
 Then, at last his thoughts recalling. 
 He awoke to time less pleasing ; 
 And upon his bundle seizing.
 
 THE OLD MAN AND DEATH. 27 
 
 Strove to raise it ; but his failing 
 Strength was spent in unavailing 
 Efforts ; for, with all his shifting, 
 He could not succeed in liftiug 
 To his back the load tormenting ; 
 So began his old lamenting 
 At his fate so hard and galling, 
 In beseeching accents calling 
 Upon Death, his aid conjuring, 
 Seeing life was past enduring. 
 
 To a mortal's prayer replying 
 For a wonder, Death came flying 
 To the spot ; and there alighting, 
 Said : " I come at thy inviting, 
 
 To thy wish at once acceding, 
 
 And would know what thou art needing," 
 
 But the Man, with terror shivering, 
 
 Stammer'd out in accents quivering : 
 
 " O kind sir, forgive my daring ! 
 
 I implore thee, be forbearing ; 
 
 I was but thine aid requiring 
 
 To uplift this load of firing." 
 
 People under trouble smarting 
 May desire the final parting 
 From a world of pain and grieving, 
 When there's little chance of leaving ; 
 But if Death appear'd complying, 
 It would but increase their sighing.
 
 28 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Clje pttgjtr attfr ibt Iftaqpie. 
 
 An aged Miser had a hoard 
 
 Of guineas hid beneath a board 
 
 Within the garret where he dwelt ; 
 
 And on the floor he often knelt 
 
 To raise the board and count his store. 
 
 Or add at times a little more. 
 
 One day a Magpie that he kept, 
 Along the flooring slily crept, 
 And from the heap a guinea stole, 
 Then ran to hide it in a hole. 
 The Miser saw the robber's trick, 
 And catching up his walking-stick, 
 He hobbled after him, and cried : 
 " Accursed thief, my gold to hide ! 
 And thou hast taken much, no doubt, 
 Ere I have chanced to find thee out ; 
 For what I have, in spite of all 
 My saving, still is very small. 
 But, now I've caught thee in the fact, 
 Thy life is forfeit for the act !"— 
 
 " Nay, master," cried the bird, " I vow 
 I've taken nothing until now." — 
 
 "It matters not," the Miser , said, 
 " For this offence I'll break thy head."
 
 THE FOX AND THE OAK. 2\) 
 
 "But think," rejoined the bird, "if I 
 For hiding one coin ought to die, 
 You richly merit such a fate 
 For having hidden sums so great !" 
 
 A fault in others men will blame, 
 When they have often done the same. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 t Jf0* antr ibt (Dak. 
 
 A raging wind with sudden stroke, 
 
 One night tore down a lofty Oak, 
 
 Whose broken boughs lay spread around, 
 
 And cover'd many yards of ground. 
 
 A Fox, who had been out all night, 
 
 Was hastening with the morning light 
 
 To seek his cover near the tree. 
 
 " Oh, what a mighty Oak !" cried he : 
 
 " Had I not seen it as it lies, 
 
 I'd not have thought it half the size." 
 
 When some great man of noble mind, 
 Is struck by death, we often find 
 His worth more highly far extoll'd 
 Than when he stood above the mould.
 
 30 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 CIjc §0g attfr % §ttikr%. 
 
 Here and there about a valley 
 Gaily flits a Butterfly, — 
 
 Lingering now with flowers to dally, 
 Swiftly soaring now on high. 
 
 Eagerly a Boy pursues it 
 
 Through its wayward, mazy flight, 
 Till upon a leaf he views it, 
 
 Wearied out at last, alight. 
 
 "O* 
 
 Up he creeps, with cheeks all glowing, 
 Bated breath, and glistening eyes, 
 
 Close behind it ; and then thro wing- 
 Out his hand, secures the prize. 
 
 Now, exulting o'er his capture, 
 
 Tightly grasp'd he bears his prey, — 
 
 Calls to view it, in his rapture, 
 All his fellows from their play. 
 
 Hear him loftily dilating 
 
 On its beauty, as they stand 
 
 All attention round him, waiting 
 Till he shall unclose his hand.
 
 THE FARMER AND HIS WATCH-DOG. 31 
 
 But, impatient while he lingers, 
 "Let us see!" they loudly cry, 
 
 Till he slowly lifts his fingers, 
 To display the Butterfly. 
 
 How he grieves, and stares astounded, 
 When he finds that nought remains 
 
 But a dying grub, surrounded 
 By a few dark, dusty grains ! 
 
 Pleasure-seekers, thus grief-smitten 
 Ye must mourn on earth beneath 
 
 Joys, like Dead Sea apples bitten, 
 Leaving ashes in the teeth. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 While fast asleep a Farmer lay 
 
 One gloomy night, and snored away, 
 
 A Thief was sneaking round the house, 
 
 And treading softly as a mouse. 
 
 The Watch-dog spied him through the dark. 
 
 And challenged him with angry bark .
 
 32 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 The Farmer woke, jump'd out of bed, 
 And through the lattice thrust his head ; 
 But seeing nothing wrong around, 
 And hearing no suspicious sound, 
 He bade the Dog be still, and then 
 Went off to bed and and sleep again. 
 
 The Thief had hidden in a shed 
 At first, in great alarm and dread ; 
 But hearing that the Dog was chaind, 
 And finding that he now refrain'd 
 From barking, with his purposed deed 
 He yet determined to proceed : 
 So when he thought the Farmer slept, 
 To the house-door he softly crept, 
 And there drew out his ample stock 
 Of burglars' keys to pick the lock. 
 The Watch-dog, as he saw the man, 
 
 In spite of orders now began 
 
 To bark again with all his force, 
 
 Until his efforts made him hoarse. 
 
 The Farmer, startled from his sleep, 
 
 Got up to take a second peep ; 
 
 But seeing nothing, &% before, 
 
 Resolved to stop the loud uproar. 
 
 " Down, Tearem ! down, sir ! down," he cried ; 
 
 " I wish thy noisy jaws war tied, 
 
 Thee mun be gawing daft, I think, 
 
 Not letting people sleep a wink ! 
 
 And when this elegant address, 
 
 Obtain'd the much-desired success,
 
 THE FARMER AND HIS WATCH-DOG. 33 
 
 The speaker sought his couch once more — 
 
 And left the Robber at the door. 
 ****** 
 
 Next morning, when from sound repose 
 Our Agriculturist arose, 
 He found the house-door on the latch, 
 And lying near a half-burnt match. 
 He sought the parlour, full of doubt, 
 And found the room turned wrong side out : 
 The drawers were lying all around, 
 Their contents scatter'd on the ground ; 
 And after searching every nook, 
 He miss'd his bulky pocket-book, 
 And with it, to his bitter sorrow, 
 His quarter's rent, due on the morrow. 
 
 Learn caution from the Farmer's loss : 
 
 At friendly warning don't be cross ; 
 
 Nor think, because you cannot see 
 
 A danger, that it cannot be ; 
 
 Or that by stopping the alarm 
 
 You must protect yourself from harm ; 
 
 Though harsh rebuffs, indeed, may end 
 
 In silencing the warmest friend. 
 
 Be certain, too, you'll seldom find 
 
 A monitor so true and kind 
 
 As that poor brute, for rarely men, 
 
 When once repulsed, will bark again.
 
 fr 
 
 34 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 itln %stxalaQix, 
 
 I remember somewhere reading, 
 
 An Astrologer of old, 
 Through, the fields at night proceeding 
 
 Sought the future to unfold. 
 
 While upon the stars he ponder'd, 
 Gazing up with look intent, 
 
 From, the pathway far he wander' d, 
 Quite unconscious where he went. 
 
 Soon arriving at a river, 
 
 Plump he fell into the stream, 
 
 Staring round him, with a shiver, 
 As if waking from a dream. 
 
 "a 
 
 One who saw him from a distance 
 Quickly to the rescue ran; 
 
 Just in time to save existence, 
 
 Out he drew the drowning man, — 
 
 Saying : " Men have told me, stranger, 
 You can read the starry skies ; 
 
 Yet you could not see the danger 
 Here, beneath your very eyes."
 
 THE HUNTER AND HIS HOUND. 35 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Hunter antr jris llountr. 
 
 A certain Hunter had a Hound, 
 Of noble breed, and much renown'd 
 For chasing boars, and many a wound 
 Received in fight his courage told. 
 But as with time the Dow grew old, 
 Though not less willing or less bold, 
 His speed and strength declined apace, 
 Till even if, gaining in the chase, 
 He brought the quarry face to face, 
 His feeble jaws strived to retain 
 Their hold upon the ear in vain. 
 On this his master would complain, 
 And chide him well for letting ero, 
 Until the Hound replied: "You know, 
 'Tis lack of strength, not will, I show. 
 If what I am to censure lays 
 Me open thus, 'twere meet to praise 
 What I have been in former days. 
 
 Thus often men of noble mind, 
 When worn by age, detractors find, 
 To all their former merit blind. 
 
 d2
 
 36 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 %\t <&xak mtb % |laben. 
 
 A Crow had found an oyster, 
 Left stranded by the tide, 
 
 Which long in vain to open 
 With beak and claws she tried. 
 
 " Friend," said a Raven, passing, 
 " What do you there, I pray ?"- 
 
 " This shell," she said, " I'd open, 
 But can't find out the way." 
 
 " Oh, that," replied the Raven, 
 
 " Is easy to effect." 
 Said Mrs. Crow : " My labour 
 
 Would you, kind sir, direct ?" 
 
 " With all my heart," he answer'd, 
 " You see this flatten'd I'ock ; 
 
 Fly up and drop it here, then, — 
 You'll loose it by the shock." 
 
 The silly Crow flew upward, 
 And dropp'd the oyster there ; 
 
 The Raven hurried forward, 
 And seized upon the fare.
 
 THE CUR AND THE MASTIFF. 37 
 
 Tis well, when people proffer 
 
 Advice so pleasantly, 
 To ponder what advantage 
 
 They for themselves foresee. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 <i\n €ux anfcr % HJasttff. 
 
 A Cur, while riding through the street 
 Upon a waggon, chanced to meet 
 A noble Mastiff in his course, 
 At whom he bark'd with all his force, 
 And scoff 'd and jeer'd in doggish talk 
 At him who was compell'd to walk. 
 The Mastiff said : " Degenerate hound, 
 I'd teach thee, wert thou on the ground, 
 To sing another song ; but now 
 The place defies me, and not thou." 
 
 * This fable was suggested by an actual occurrence, and 
 written without reference to iEsop's " Kid and Wolf ; " but I 
 afterwards found that I had unconsciously embodied a remini- 
 scence of his fable — Oi< av fit XoiSoptlc, AW 6 tottoc .
 
 38 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 CIj* Jffe mxb % %xd. 
 
 A Fly and Ant were in debate, 
 Which held the higher rank and state. 
 
 The Fly exclaim' d : " How can you dare 
 Your vile, ignoble lot compare 
 A single moment unto mine, 
 Who live a life almost divine. 
 With gods and goddesses I feast 
 On victims offer' d by the priest ; 
 I tread on altars, and reside 
 In temples with the deified ; 
 About a monarch's head I skip, 
 Or kiss his spouse's tempting lip ; 
 I never stoop to humble toil, 
 But, like a warrior on his spoil, 
 I live in richest luxury : 
 Say, rustic, canst thou equal me ?" — 
 
 "The privilege," replied the Ant, 
 " Of dining with the gods, I grant, 
 Is great to an invited guest, 
 But not to one they deem a pest. 
 Thou talkest of thy kings and queens ; 
 'Tis but thy littleness that screens 
 Thee from their vengeance. Thou mayst vaunt 
 That temples are thy frequent haunt ;
 
 THE FLY AND THE ANT. 39 
 
 Yet ignominiously thou'rt driven 
 From every cottage under heaven. 
 Then, as to labour, to thy cost 
 Thou'lt learn its value in the frost. 
 Poor wretch, thou boastest in thy pride 
 Of what 'twere better far to hide. 
 Thou wastest all the sunny days, 
 And when the summer bloom decays, 
 And winter snows begin to fall, 
 I see thee starving on a wall ; 
 While I, in ease and competence, 
 Enjoy the fruit of diligence." 
 
 Of their acquaintance men may boast, 
 
 Of dining with a lordly host, 
 
 Of paying countesses a call, 
 
 Or dancing with them at a ball ; 
 
 When, like the Fly, they but intrude 
 
 On folks who think them very rude, 
 
 And, did they speak their minds, would say 
 
 They wish'd them far enough away. 
 
 We should not judge of any one 
 
 By where he's been, but what he's done. 
 
 Again, a gambling rake on town, 
 While fortune favours, may look down 
 On honest industry, and thank 
 The gods he moves in higher rank ; 
 But in the winter of his days 
 A grievous penalty he pays.
 
 40 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 %\t Mali antr tin Slj^tefrs, 
 
 A Wolf fell ill in olden times, 
 And in a cavern lay lamenting 
 
 The number of his grievous crimes, 
 
 And seem'd with all his heart repenting. 
 
 Now, after many days of pain, 
 
 The invalid recover'd slowly ; 
 And when again he sought the plain, 
 
 His character seem'd alter'd wholly. 
 
 He'd grown so very mild and good, 
 That now, though it appear amazing, 
 
 He would not kill a sheep for food, 
 
 And vow'd he'd rather take to "razing. 
 
 But seeing, as he chanced to creep 
 
 Behind a quickset hedge, half-starving, 
 
 Two Shepherds by a slaughter'd sheep, 
 
 A leg of which they then were carving, — 
 
 ■' Oh, oh ! " cried he, " these very men 
 Pretend to think me such a sinner 
 
 Because I live on mutton, when 
 
 Thev take the same themselves for dinner.
 
 THE TWO BALD MEN. 41 
 
 " Why should I try to live on grass 1 
 
 If sheep must anyhow be eaten, 
 In eating them I were an ass 
 
 By their own guardians to be beaten." 
 
 In vain with censure and with threat 
 Of punishment, however ample, 
 
 They visit an offence who set 
 Of the offence itself example." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Sfr* &.to0 §afo Pat. 
 
 Two bald old scavengers, who saw a bit 
 
 Of ivory gleaming in the dust they swept, 
 Each strove at the same time to seize on it, 
 
 But neither could the other intercept. 
 In fact, their bald pates meeting with a bump, 
 
 They fell to fighting for the half-hid prize ; 
 And while exchanging many a heavy thump, 
 
 One got a broken nose, one two black eyes. 
 This conquer'd, but he lost the only tuft 
 
 Of hair still left on his corporeal dome ; 
 And when he clutch'd the prize for which they'd cuff'd, 
 
 Oh, mockery ! it was a small-tooth' 'cl comb I
 
 42 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 %\& %ss mxb % JMe. 
 
 A Donkey, dull, but just as vain, 
 Was cropping thistles on a plain ; 
 And as he stroll'd upon his way, 
 By chance beheld a shepherd play 
 Upon a flute, whose dulcet strains 
 Attracted all his fellow-swains, 
 Who gather'd in a group to hear 
 The melody, from far and near. 
 
 " What fools are these ! " the Donkey cried, 
 " Who stand with mouths all gaping wide, 
 And listen like a crowd of boys, 
 To hear that ninny make a noise 
 By blowing in a little hole. 
 To me it seems extremely droll, 
 That anybody should enjoy 
 The sound of such a stupid toy ; 
 While for my part — but there, enough ! 
 My mind is made of better stuff." 
 
 This said, the Ass, in scornful mood, 
 Went off again to munch his food. 
 Now, as he stray'd about, he found 
 A Shepherd's flute upon the ground, 
 Forgotten by some amorous Swain 
 Who fed his flocks upon the plain.
 
 THE BUTTERFLY AND THE BEE. 43 
 
 The Donkey started in surprise, 
 And scann'd the flute with curious eyes 
 And ears erect ; then, half in dread, 
 Approaching slowly, bent his head, 
 And sniff'd about the instrument, 
 Till, by some wondrous accident, 
 A soft, melodious note arose 
 Beneath his awkward snuffling nose ; 
 When, braying out with all his might, 
 And jumping round in high delight, 
 " Oh, what sweet music ! " cried the brute : 
 " I too can play upon the flute ! " 
 
 Thus human asses not a few 
 Deride an act they cannot do ; 
 But when by hazard they succeed 
 In badly mimicking the deed, 
 Begin to bray about their parts, 
 As they were skill'd in all the arts. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 @% guticrflir mitr % gfte. 
 
 A many-colour'd Butterfly, 
 About a garden gaily flitting, 
 
 Amid his rambles chanced to spy 
 A Bee upon a blossom sitting.
 
 44 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 He wish'd lier courteously " good day," 
 And she responded as politely ; 
 
 Then he pursued his errant way, 
 
 And o'er the flowers tripp'd lightly, — 
 
 Till, ere the Bee had moved away, 
 He made the circuit of the garden. 
 
 Surprised that she so long should stay, 
 " Madam," he said, " I beg your pardon,- 
 
 " But, as a fellow-tourist, I 
 
 Perhaps may venture to remind you, 
 That here are flowers of rarer dye 
 
 Than that on which again I find you. 
 
 " Believe me, there are hundreds more 
 Would well repay examination ; 
 
 For I have roain'd the garden o'er 
 Since we exchanged our salutation. 
 
 " At flowers of varied shape and hue 
 A passing peep meanwhile I've taken, 
 
 And feel surprised indeed that you 
 
 This simple one have not forsaken." — 
 
 " Well, sir," replied the busy Bee, 
 
 " The sight of these may be alluring ; 
 
 But sight alone is not enough for me, — 
 I seek for something niore enduring.
 
 THE BUTTERFLY AND THE BEE. 45 
 
 " If I should flit from flower to flower 
 In summer time, when days are sunny, 
 
 I should be left in wintry hour 
 To perish for the lack of honey. 
 
 " And though this flower may seem so plain 
 That you are tempted to despise it, 
 
 To me it yields such solid gain 
 
 That more than gayer ones I prize it." 
 
 How many like this Butterfly 
 
 Behave in travelling and reading : 
 
 They feast the fancy or the eye, 
 
 The judgment never think of feeding. 
 
 From place to place, or book to book, 
 They pass for pleasure, not from duty ; 
 
 And solid profit overlook, 
 
 "While seeking interest or beauty. 
 
 Though we may well divert the mind 
 With lovely sights and charming pages, 
 
 Our true instruction we shall find 
 
 In things of worth and works of sages. 
 
 But see or read whate'er we may, 
 
 This maxim constantly should guide us : 
 
 Hard study is the only way 
 
 To gain by mental food supplied us.
 
 4G A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 %\t Jrcrigs mxb iln Smi. 
 
 It was a monarch's wedding day, 
 
 And all the town was glad and gay ; 
 
 But .ZEsop, as he stroll'd about, 
 
 And heard the crowds of peojjle shout, 
 
 Said, " Surely men are not so wise 
 
 As animals that they despise." — 
 
 " And why 1 " ask'd some one by his side. 
 
 " One summer-time," the Sage replied, 
 " A rumour in the marshes spread, 
 That Sol intended soon to wed. 
 On this the Frogs met in a crowd, 
 And utter'd murmu lings so loud, 
 That Jove, who heard them, wish'd to know 
 Whatever could disturb them so. 
 ' We hear it said,' the Frogs replied, 
 ' That Sol intends to take a bride : 
 But if alone his burning heat 
 Has so exhausted our retreat, 
 That all the pools are nearly dry, 
 And we of thirst begin to die, 
 How terrible our fate will be 
 If he should have a family ! ' "
 
 THE STAG AND HIS SON. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 %\t Sfacj: atifr {jis Suit. 
 
 " My father knew the time," began 
 An old Stag, talking with his son, — 
 
 " My father knew the time when man 
 Had not yet made the thundering gun." 
 
 " Ah ! in his days," the son replied, 
 " Our folk enjoyed a happy fate ! " — 
 
 " Nay ! " said the grave sire, " you decide 
 Too readily upon their state. 
 
 " Those days were different, I own, 
 But yet no better for our race ; 
 
 For ere the deadly gun was known, 
 Men had the long-bow in its place. 
 
 " In youth I've seen the power of each ; 
 
 And though the bow gave little sound, 
 And had not quite so wide a reach, 
 
 Its arrow made an ugly wound." 
 
 Ye simple folk, who think your kind 
 So highly blest in days of old, 
 
 In history's page ye'll hardly find 
 The traces of your age of gold.
 
 48 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Ch %$$ in tin STwit's Simr. 
 
 An Eastern peasant had an Ass, 
 Which, being rather short of grass, 
 He used to send at night to feed 
 By stealth upon a neighbour's mead. 
 One night the animal was found, 
 And straightway driven from the ground. 
 The man then got a lion's skin 
 To dress his hungry Donkey in, 
 And sent him thieving thus disguised : 
 But charged him, as his life he prized, 
 To hold his peace ; for if he bray'd, 
 His kind would be at once betray'd. 
 So ev'ry night, thus nobly clad, 
 His fill of grass the Donkey had ; 
 For any who by chance espied 
 The fellow in his borrow'd hide, 
 Believing him a lion, fled 
 Instanter from his presence dread. 
 The farmer, meeting him one night, 
 Ban off, and climb'd a tree in fright ! 
 But while among the boughs he lay, 
 Another donkey chanced to bray ; 
 On hearing which the peasant's brute 
 Must, like a donkey, follow suit.
 
 THE SWAN AND THE GOOSE. 49 
 
 The farmer heard the tell-tale sound, 
 And scrambling quickly to the ground, 
 Ran to the beast with stick in hand, 
 And beat him roughly off the land. 
 
 Scarce need the moral be express'd 
 That silence for an Ass is best. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Gently floating with the breeze, 
 Type of dignity and ease, 
 On a lake a Swan was swimming. 
 Leisurely her feathers trimming. 
 Here and there about the pool 
 Swam €1 Goose — proverbial fool. 
 On the bank a rustic stood, 
 Gazing in admiring mood. 
 " Sir," said Goose " why stare you so 1 
 I'm a Swan I'd have you know ! " 
 Fitting answer to such pride, 
 With a laugh the clown replied. 
 
 Geese abound in every place, 
 Ever a presumptuous race. 
 
 E
 
 50 A CENTURY ON FABLES. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Cjtt ^ast nrib tin ^tarcg. 
 
 " Rose," began the Peony, 
 
 " Men are all demented, truly ; 
 
 Though they think so light of me, 
 Ever praising you unduly. 
 
 " Like the glowing blush of morn 
 Spreads my noble crimson blossom, 
 
 And I bear no vengeful thorn, 
 Traitor-like, upon my bosom. 
 
 " Men can find none great as I 
 
 Through the radiant garden-bowers, — 
 
 None of finer form or dye ; 
 
 Yet they call thee Queen of Flowers, 
 
 " What is there to blame in me ? 
 
 Tell me frankly what thou thinkest."— 
 " Grand and beauteous thou mayst be," 
 
 Said the Rose ; " but yet — thou stinkest ! " * 
 
 Should a lovely form and face 
 Praise and admiration merit, 
 
 When we cannot fail to trace 
 Taint of evil on the spirit ? 
 
 * gafj im fa jjrablft, anh trotb nur ftinkcu.
 
 THE WOLF'S MOURNTNG. 51 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 CIjs Mtolfs ||l0itnrht0. 
 
 In Switzerland, where Wolves reside, 
 
 A numerous flock of sheep had died 
 
 Of some dire pest within a week. 
 
 A "Wolf, who'd heai'd his fellows speak 
 
 Of this mischance, resolved to go 
 
 And learn if it were really so. 
 
 He reach'd the plain, and meeting there 
 
 The Sheep-dog, ask'd, with friendly air, 
 
 If this were true about the sheep ; 
 
 Which learning, he began to weep 
 
 And whine : " O deai', those fine fat lambs. 
 
 Their noble sires, and comely dams ! 
 
 Oh, I assure you, I could shed 
 
 My blood in tears to know them dead ! 
 
 How can your master bear the shock 
 
 Of losing such a lovely flock 1 
 
 It must be sad — I pity him." 
 
 The Dog replied : " Sir Isegrim, 
 To see you mourning in this fashion, 
 I'd give you credit for compassion, 
 Did I not know the interest 
 Which wakes this pity in your breast." 
 
 Thus men another's loss will rue — 
 When thus the loss affects them too.
 
 52 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 CJxc Jf0# iljaf lost I/is foail. 
 
 A certain Fox, who long had laugh'd 
 At huntsman, hound, and trap, 
 
 One night, in spite of all his craft, 
 Met with a sad mishap. 
 
 A trap at length, with sudden bite, 
 Had caught him by the tail : 
 
 He pull'd and tugg'd with all his might, 
 But found it no avail ; — 
 
 The teeth had got too tight a grip, 
 It could not be withdrawn ; 
 
 The spring was fix'd too fast to slip. 
 And held the Fox till dawn. 
 
 Soon as he saw the sun appear, 
 
 With fear and fury blind, 
 He jump'd and jerk'd till he was clear — 
 
 But left his tail behind. 
 
 Now overwhelm'd with shame and grief, 
 
 Avoiding all his tribe, 
 He sought in solitude relief 
 
 From scorn and scoff and gibe.
 
 THE FOX THAT LOST HIS TAIL. 53 
 
 At last too great a bore lie found 
 
 This life of loneliness ; 
 So called his fellow-foxes round, 
 
 And made them this address : — 
 
 " My friends, I fain would see the mode 
 
 Among our folk prevail 
 Of cutting off the useless load 
 
 We designate a tail. 
 
 " I call it useless but 'tis worse — 
 
 'Tis dangerous to boot ; 
 In flight it much impedes our course, 
 
 With foes in hot pursuit. 
 
 " If through a hole or hedge we creep, 
 
 It stops us on the way : 
 We struggle, break our victims' sleep, 
 
 And lose them by delay. 
 
 " 'Tis for the brush, or tail, you know, 
 
 The cruel huntsman strives ; 
 By cutting off this source of woe 
 
 Would many save their lives. 
 
 " And then, in spite of all our care, 
 
 The tail is apt to catch 
 In some unnoticed trap or snare, 
 
 When life hangs on despatch.
 
 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 " Such the misfortune I have met — 
 
 If I may call it so, 
 When thus I lost without regret 
 
 What I can well forego. 
 
 • ; Then, as to looks, the tail to me 
 Seems quite devoid of grace, 
 
 Unsightly as a thing can be, 
 And wholly out of place." 
 
 Thus spake the Fox : to him replied 
 A comrade in the throng : 
 
 " My friend, it cannot be denied, 
 Your arguments are strong ; — 
 
 " But ere we yield to what you say, 
 Turn round, and let us see 
 
 If you without a tail display 
 A better shape than we." 
 
 He turn'd about : there rose a shout 
 Of scornful laughter then, 
 
 That quickly put our Fox to rout, 
 To live alone again. 
 
 To point the moi*al of this tail., 
 Two lines may well suffice : 
 
 The vicious would on all prevail 
 To imitate their vice.
 
 THE BUTTERFLY AND THE SILKWORM. 55 
 
 XL. 
 
 CIj£ §ufc% mxb % Stlktatm, 
 
 " Butterfly," the Silkworm said, 
 
 " Wherefore weep and droop your head 1 
 
 Say, what cloud of sorrow now 
 
 Lours upon that once bright brow?" — 
 
 " Know you," said the Butterfly, 
 " How the roving Bee and I 
 Sported o'er the meadows gay, 
 Sipping nectar all the way 1 
 Oh, such loving friends were we ! 
 But she's gone away from me, 
 Bearing honey to her hive, 
 And her loss I can't survive/' — 
 
 " Nay," replied the Silkworm, " you 
 Ought to learn to labour too ; 
 For how sweet when work is done 
 Tis to gambol in the sun. 
 Soon the Bee will come again ; 
 Greater her enjoyment then : 
 After toil one can enjoy 
 Pleasure's cup without alloy."
 
 56 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 CIjc $amlj mxb t\t OTalf. 
 
 One morning to a streamlet's brink 
 
 A little Lamb had come to drink ; 
 
 And as the pretty innocent 
 
 Assuaged his thirst, with head down-bent ; 
 
 Some distance up the stream there stood 
 
 A savage Wolf, intent on blood ; 
 
 Who, as he saw the Lamb below, 
 
 Cried out : " How dare you serve me so ? 
 
 A scion of your sordid tribe 
 
 To sully water I imbibe ! " — 
 
 " Nay," said the Lamb, " how can that be ? 
 
 The water flows from you to me." — 
 
 " That," growl'd the Wolf, " is poor excuse ; 
 
 But none I'll take for the abuse 
 
 You spake of me, as I am told, 
 
 Six months ago in yonder fold." 
 
 The Lambkin answer'd : " You should know, 
 
 I was not born three months ago." — 
 
 " It matters not," replied the other ; 
 
 " If not yourself, it was your brother." — 
 
 " But," pled the Lamb, with accent mild, 
 
 " I am my parents' only child." — 
 
 " Well, then, it was your dam or sire," 
 
 At once return'd the ready liar ;
 
 THE GOOSE AND THE BOAR. 57 
 
 And for the insults of your race, 
 That I have borne so long a space 
 And for your present insolence, 
 I swear you go Dot living hence !" 
 With that, upon the Lamb he sprang, 
 And strangled him with ruthless fang. 
 
 Tis vain to argue with the strong, 
 When they resolve to do you wrong ; 
 For in default of true offence, 
 They never lack a false pretence. 
 
 XLII 
 
 C{« <£>00S£ antr % §0ar. 
 
 A Goose, encountering a savage Hog 
 While sharpening his tusks against a log, 
 Inquired the reason of his doing so, 
 When, as it seem'd, unchallenged by a foe. 
 The Boar replied : " A prudent beast prepares 
 For challenge, lest it take him unawares : 
 I should have little opportunity 
 For whetting teeth before an enemy. " 
 
 The Boar's precaution, reader, imitate : 
 
 •In prosperous days prepare for adverse fate.
 
 58 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 %\t |fijg m\b % §rmitMc. 
 
 " Oh, how I pity thee, poor neighbour !" said 
 The Ivy to a Bramble growing near ; 
 " Thou dar'st not lift thy feeble head, 
 But crawlest on the ground in feai\ 
 
 "Why not endeavour to ascend like me, 
 Whose lofty head is towering in the air 1 
 
 I twine around this noble tree, 
 
 And in his exaltation share." 
 
 The Bramble said : " I grant thou climbest high ; 
 
 But while my native strength upholdeth me, 
 A humbler crawler e'en than I 
 Wouldst thou, if unsupported, be." 
 
 Translators, commentators, editors, 
 Who cling about an author as your tree, 
 To such as you the tale refers — 
 And let it teach you modesty. 
 
 

 
 THE FLY IN THE CATHEDRAL. 59 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 CIj* Jffe tit % €a%tal 
 
 A Fly, while walking on the dome 
 Of great St. Peter's Church at Rome, 
 Exclaim'd : " To me this lofty pile 
 Of stones seems built in wretched style : 
 I scarce find one smooth place o'er all 
 The surface of this crooked wall ; 
 Go where I will, I still detect 
 Some excrescence or some defect." 
 
 A Spider, from his web o'erhead, 
 Had heard the critic speak, and said : 
 " 'Tis not for you, poor puny flies, 
 To judge of things of such a size. 
 This structure was not raised for you, 
 But creatures in whose larger view 
 The workmanship, you censure so, 
 No sign of ruggedness may show ; 
 While they see what you never can, 
 The beauty of the building's plan." 
 
 Thus often narrow-minded men 
 Will judge of things beyond their ken ; 
 They spy slight faults that cannot mar, 
 But see not where high beauties are.
 
 60 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 A Sparrow pounced upon a Fly, 
 
 "Whom struffslins: to his nest he box*e : 
 
 And vainly did the insect cr}^ : 
 
 "Oh, spare me ! spare me, I implore!" — 
 
 " No," said the murderer, " you must die ; 
 
 For you are not so strong as I." 
 
 A Sparrow-hawk came flying past, 
 And seized the Sparrow on his way ; 
 
 Who, as his captor held him fast, 
 
 Cried : " Spare me ! let me go I pi'ay ! " — 
 
 " No," said the murderer, " you must die ; 
 
 For you are not so strong as I." 
 
 An Eagle darted through the air, 
 
 And clutch'd the Hawk with sudden grasp ; 
 
 When " Spare me, sire ! I pray thee spare !" 
 The stricken bird began to gasp. 
 
 " No," said the murderer, " you must die ; 
 
 For you are not so strong as I." 
 
 A Hunter bent his deadly bow, 
 And smote the Eagle as he spoke ;
 
 THE WOLF AND THE HEDGEHOG. 61 
 
 Who cried : " wretch, to slay me so .! 
 How have I merited this stroke ?" — 
 " Yet," said the murderer, " you must die ; 
 For you are not so strong as I." 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 %\t Wcrlf wxis % Wfo&fyog. 
 
 One day a Wolf and Hedgehog met : 
 " Friend," said the former, " I regret 
 To see you wear in time of peace 
 So needlessly that prickly fleece. 
 Now, why not put your mail away 1 
 You might resume it any day, 
 If war should happen to break out." — 
 
 " Nay," said the Hedgehog, " ne'er without 
 My coat of armour would I stray. 
 It is a time of peace, you say ; 
 But tell me, sir, would that be true 
 If now unarm'd I spoke to you?" 
 
 Such wolves are common in all lands ; 
 Hence e'er on guard the wise man stands.
 
 62 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 CIw Hjtokeg anfr % gags. 
 
 A wealthy merchant, who some time 
 Had sojourn' d in an eastern clime, 
 Upon returning home had brought 
 With him a little Monkey, caught 
 When very young, and now as tame 
 As monkey ever yet became. 
 This creature, as in years he grew, 
 Increased in craft and mischief too, 
 And seem'd so clever, so astute, 
 That many thought the nimble brute 
 An imp in quadrumanal shape 
 Who'd made a fortunate escape, 
 By some deep stratagem, from — well, 
 From where it would be rude to tell. 
 And, truly, many of his tricks 
 Befitted well a son of Nick's. 
 
 But whether monkey, imp, or what 
 He really was, here matters not. 
 Suffice it, he inhabited 
 A large old countiy house, and led 
 A life by far more free from care 
 Than he allow'd to others there. 
 
 One morning, in the kitchen-yard, 
 A Mastiff who had been on guard
 
 THE MONKEY AND THE DOGS. 63 
 
 Throughout the night, upon a heap 
 Of straw was lying fast asleep. 
 A Spaniel, too, of slender make, 
 Lay in the yard, but wide awake : 
 He slept by night, and only lay 
 Reclining in a lazy way, 
 For want of something else to do. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Monkey, looking through 
 A window, spied the pair of dogs, 
 And leaping on a pile of logs, 
 With agile spring and nimble bound 
 Had soon attain'd the level ground. 
 To meet him there the Spaniel ran, 
 And soon a game of romps began. 
 First came a wrestle, then a race 
 With bark and chatter round the place ; 
 When Jacko, to escape attack, 
 Jump'd lightly up on Toby's back, 
 And, like a man on horse astride, 
 About the courtyard took a ride ; 
 Then springing down, made off on foot, 
 His pony starting in pursuit. 
 
 But when they'd managed to beguile 
 Some twenty minutes in this style, 
 The little Spaniel, panting fast, 
 Retired to gather breath at last, 
 And squatted on the Watch-dog's lair, 
 And then the Monkey followed there. 
 
 Now, Master Jacko, as he saw
 
 64 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 The Mastiff sleeping in the straw, 
 The love of mischief conquering fear, 
 Pull'd smartly at the sleeper's ear, 
 Who gave a drowsy growl, and drew 
 His head away an inch or two. 
 Bold with impunity, the knave 
 Approach'd a second time, and gave 
 The other ear a sharper tug ; 
 On which there came an angry shrug 
 And somewhat louder growl, and then 
 The clog began to snore again. 
 
 The Monkey, still not satisfied, 
 A new annoyance shortly tried ; 
 For catching up a bit of straw, 
 And slily stretching out his paw 
 Above the sleeper, he began 
 (A trick, no doubt, he'd learnt from man) 
 To titillate his victim's nose. 
 
 The Mastiff started from repose, 
 And seeing not the teasing spright 
 Dart up the wood-pile out of sight, 
 But only Toby standing near, 
 Aghast and shivering with fear, 
 He sprang upon him in a breath, 
 And nearly shook the wretch to death. 
 
 Meanwhile, among the logs of wood 
 In hiding lay the ne'er-clo-good, 
 And grinn'd and chuckled in high glee 
 At what he thought a first-rate spree.
 
 THE PIECE OF CLAY. 65 
 
 Now, little folks as well as great, 
 Take warning from the Spaniel's fate : 
 Avoid consorting with a knave ; 
 For though you may not misbehave, 
 You'll surely smart for some offence 
 Of his, despite your innocence. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Clxe |)ica of Clay. 
 
 A friend, while at the bath one day, 
 Gave me a piece of scented clay.* 
 " Amber or musk art thou," I said, 
 " Such ravishing perfume to shed?" 
 It answer'd : " I was common clay, 
 Till with the rose I made some stay ; 
 Thus I partook its precious worth, 
 Or I were still but common earth." 
 
 From good companions we may learn 
 To practise goodness in our turn. 
 
 * A kind of unctuous clay, ^j^,J^ t s^ A$ ffH-i-khoshbuy, 
 used in Persia in place of soap, and perfumed with essence of 
 roses. 
 
 F
 
 66 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Upon a rose a Butterfly 
 
 Of gold and purple hue 
 Was sitting, boasting haughtily : 
 
 " For me this flower grew ! " 
 
 Then o'er its crimson leaves awhile 
 
 She flutter' d in her glee, 
 Eepeating vainly, with a smile : 
 
 " This flower grew for me !" 
 
 While on her throne the would-be queen 
 
 Was boasting in this wise, 
 A little Boy approach'd unseen, 
 
 To gain so rare a prize. 
 
 His stealthy hand, with sudden grasp, 
 
 He threw around his prey, 
 And, with her dying in his clasp, 
 
 Bore too the flower away. 
 
 Amid thine hours of pride and joy 
 
 Forget not life hath foes : 
 Think of the Butterfly the Boy 
 
 Caught boasting on the rose.
 
 WINTER AND SPRING. 
 
 WUxnitx antr Spring. 
 
 It was the Spring, the fairy time of flowers, 
 Of singing-birds, and gladsome loving hours ; 
 Earth bloom'd 'neath life-infusing sunny rays. 
 And every creature sang a hymn of praise ; 
 When from the north the frost-wind sudden sped, 
 Laying the primrose low, the swallow dead ; 
 And white-wing' d Winter soar'cl again on high, 
 His snowy pinions sweeping through the sky. 
 
 " Old man," said Spring, " thy reign was past and 
 Why thus usurp an abdicated throne, [gone : 
 
 And o'er the earth thy leaden sceptre rear? 
 Wherefore a heedless war with me declare, 
 Driving the seasons from their wonted course?" 
 
 Said Winter then, in accents stern and hoarse : 
 " Oft, brother, is thy breath untimely felt, 
 Causing my ice and snow too soon to melt ; 
 Oft are thy flowrets nourished by the rays 
 Of pallid sunshine that illume my days ; 
 And while I reign, I hear abroad thy song : 
 How, then, canst thou accuse me of a wrong?" 
 
 So, when misfortune furrows youthful brows, 
 
 And grief the spirit prematurely bows, 
 
 Is there not consolation in the truth, 
 
 That age may sometimes feel the joys of youth \
 
 68 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 LI. 
 
 CIj* §00 mtfr % JSjmp- 
 
 A Dog and Sheep, fast friends of old, 
 Were talking in their owner's fold. 
 "Alas!" exclaira'd the Dog, "how great 
 The misery of our hapless fate ! 
 How often have I felt or view'd 
 Ungenerous man's ingratitude ! 
 You, without murmur, yearly give, 
 Your wool to clothe him while you live, 
 Resign your milk at his demand, 
 And richly fertilize his land ; 
 Yet, in return, his ruthless knife 
 Will some day surely seek your life, 
 When first of offspring, kindred, friends, 
 Perchance, you've mourn'd the cruel ends. 
 He talks of wolves and all their crimes— 
 His own are worse a thousand times ! 
 For me, submissive, tender, brave, 
 I serve him as a faithful slave ; 
 But all the recompense I know, 
 A niggard crust, harsh word, or blow ; 
 And when with age my strength decays, 
 The pond or rope will end my days. 
 Alas ! how wretched is our lot, 
 To live for one who loves us not !" —
 
 THE CAT AND THE CHEESE. 69 
 
 " True," said the patient Sheep ; " but then 
 I hardly think these savage men, 
 The authors of our misery, 
 Can lead a happier life than we, 
 Who have, despite our sad career, 
 What they have not, a conscience clear ; 
 And this one thought consoles me still, 
 'Tis better suffer than do ill." 
 
 LII. 
 
 Cjxe €vd antr % Cheese. 
 
 A poor old man — whose usual fare 
 
 Was bread and cheese, with none to spare — 
 
 Was plagued with mice, who came in scores 
 
 To feed upon his frugal stores. 
 
 He got a cat, not overfed, 
 
 And shut her, when he went to bed, 
 
 Inside his cupboard ; where, 'tis true, 
 
 She killed a daring mouse or two ; 
 
 But then, impatient to appease 
 
 Her hunger, ate up all the cheese. 
 
 Thus men, through rash attempts at cure, 
 May make worse ills than they endure.
 
 70 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 4 
 
 (T!)C IiCC KV& % W$%KB$ t 
 
 " Good morning, cousin ; hope I see 
 
 You well to-day," 
 Exclaim'd a Wasp, who met a Bee 
 
 Upon her way. 
 
 " Cousin, indeed ! " the other cried : 
 
 " Pray how are we 
 Related that I hear applied 
 
 Such term to me 1" — 
 
 " Related," said the Wasp, " I claim 
 
 Affinity 
 Of kind and form, if not of name 
 
 And family." — 
 
 "Well, as to form," was the reply, 
 
 "It may be true, 
 A sort of faint resemblance I 
 
 May bear to you : 
 
 " But in our habits, I am sure, 
 
 We differ much. 
 You live on fruit that grows impure 
 
 Beneath your touch ;
 
 THE BEE AND THE WASP. 71 
 
 " I live on flowers, but leave their bloom 
 
 Still fresh and fair, 
 That not the less they still perfume 
 
 The summer air : 
 
 " You labour for yourself alone, 
 
 While I prepare 
 My sweets not only for my own, 
 
 But others' fare." 
 
 The Wasp replied : '■ That may be so ; 
 
 But still one thing 
 Connects us closely, for you know 
 
 Each has a sting." — 
 
 ■->' 
 
 " Yes," said the Bee, " but you abuse 
 
 Yours for offence, 
 While I am careful but to use 
 
 Mine for defence." 
 
 How many waspish people try 
 
 To pass for bees, 
 Because in some things to the eye 
 
 Their form agrees. 
 
 v s- 
 
 But though the taint or sting is met 
 
 Where'er they roam, 
 You never knew them forming yet 
 
 A honeycomb.
 
 72 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 ®j)c Crhmtral §03. 
 
 " What think you of this sad news, brother 1 " 
 
 Said one Sheep as he met another, 
 
 " What ? " said his friend, " I've heard of noue."- 
 
 " Why, what that wicked Spring has done, — 
 
 The dog that all about the place 
 
 Esteem'd the model of his race. 
 
 He ate a pretty little lamb, 
 
 And when he'd done it, slew her dam ; 
 
 And then attack'd the Shepherd too !" — 
 
 " Nay," said the other, "is this true?"— 
 
 " Quite true ; I've heard it much discuss'd." — 
 
 " Good Heavens! in whom, then, can one trust!' 
 
 Thus sped the news on rumour's wing, 
 And such the triple crime of Spring. 
 Seized in the fact, he now lay bound ; 
 And while his fellow- dogs stood round, 
 To take a warning from his fate, 
 A group of shepherds gravely sate 
 In judgment, till each black offence 
 Was proved by clearest evidence. 
 
 Spring hung his head throughout the trial ; 
 Made no defence, and no denial. 
 The sentence came — but moved him not — 
 To hang the wretch upon the spot.
 
 THE CRIMINAL DOG. 73 
 
 The rope was brought ; the shepherds now 
 Began to tie it round a bough. 
 Meanwhile, Spring sadly raised his head, 
 And, turning to his fellows, said : 
 
 " Ye, that no longer I dare call 
 My friends, as once — oh, listen all ! 
 Learn from my miserable end 
 What consequences may attend 
 One guilty impulse uncontroll'd. 
 
 " For fifteen years in field and fold 
 I did my duty as I should, 
 Until this morn by yonder wood. 
 There as I lay upon the ground, 
 A wolf leapt forth with sudden bound, 
 Snatch'd up a lamb, and darted bac k 
 I follow'd on the robber's track ; 
 He tore his booty as he fled, 
 And drank its life-blood as it bled ; 
 Then dropp'd his prize and stood at bay ; 
 AVe fought — I slew him in the fray. 
 
 " 'Twas well, so far ; but now, alas ! 
 I saw the dead lamb on the grass, 
 And urged by lawless appetite, 
 Perceiving nobody in sight, 
 I wish'd — I loug'd — I dared to eat ; — 
 When, lo ! a sudden plaintive bleat ! 
 The ewe had come to seek her child ; 
 And I, with shame and terror wild. —
 
 74 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 I sprang upon her, fearing she 
 
 Might charge her infant's death on me ; 
 
 And thus I slew her, turn'd to fly, 
 
 And met the advancing Shepherd's eye. 
 
 He saw the corse — my reek jaws, 
 
 And raised his staff; — I could not pause- 
 
 For me no pardon now, I knew — 
 
 And at his throat I madly flew. 
 
 He laid me senseless with a blow, 
 
 And bound me — all the rest you know. 
 
 " Now tried, convicted, dooin'd to death, 
 Oh ! listen to my latest breath ; 
 See how from crime to crime I went 
 And merited this punishment ; 
 Learn how a slight offence may lead 
 To dark, unpardonable deed ; 
 And tread not near the precipice, 
 If you would shun the dread abyss." 
 
 LV. 
 
 Oe €uz\\aa. 
 
 
 
 A Starling, in a cage confined, 
 
 Contrived one morning to get free ; 
 
 And leaving dusty streets behind, 
 Flew back to verdant wood and lea.
 
 THE CUCKOO. 75 
 
 He met a Cuckoo in a glen, 
 
 Who, having heard the Starling's tale, 
 
 Said : " Of us singers what say men 1 
 How speak they of the Nightingale 1 " 
 
 " I found," replied the Starling, " all 
 
 Enthusiastic in his praise ; 
 The whole town says, that, great or small, 
 
 No bird can equal his sweet lays." 
 
 " The Lark — has he obtain'd renown 1 ?" — 
 " Yes, he is much admired by men." — 
 
 " And is the Thrush approved in town ? " — 
 " The people praise him now and then." 
 
 " And of myself what might they say 1 " — 
 " I never heard you named, I own." — 
 
 " Then, since men slight me, I will aye 
 Keep talking of myself alone." 
 
 With thi3 resolve, away he flew 
 
 To trumpet forth his would-be fame, 
 
 And of the song that erst he knew 
 Soon recollected but his name. 
 
 In human shape we may detect 
 Unfeather'd cuckoos, who, to be 
 
 licvenged on other men's neglect, 
 Prate of themselves incessantly.
 
 76 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Cfr* Ci»0 piwlcs ana % Jicrbkrs. 
 
 Two Mules were travelling of old, 
 Botb laden — one with bags of gold ; 
 The other carried sacks of grain. 
 The former, of his burden vain, 
 Pranced onward with a haughty tread, 
 And rang his bell with tossing head, 
 The other follow'd more sedate, 
 With downcast head and modest gait. 
 
 Thus as they journey 'd on their way, 
 Three robbers, who in ambush lay 
 Within a neighbouring wood, leapt out, 
 With aspect fierce and threatening shout, 
 And in a short unequal fight 
 Put both the muleteers to flight ; 
 Then bore the money-bags away, 
 Leaving the Mule, slash'd in the fray, 
 His miserable plight to mourn. 
 
 Then he that carried sacks of corn, 
 Still safe remaining with his load, 
 Said : " Truly, the contempt they show'd 
 For me, I count as so much gain, 
 Since nought I lose, nor suffer pain. 
 
 The poor man travelleth exempt 
 
 From outrage, which the rich must tempt.
 
 THE CRANE AND THE TROUT. 77 
 
 LYII. 
 
 CIj£ Crane astir % £nmf. 
 
 A Crane, who, in lier usual way, 
 Was fishing in a stream one day, 
 Had seized upon a little Trout, 
 Who straight began to whimper out : 
 " Oh, let me free, — I am too small 
 To do you any good at all ! 
 Let me but live a month, and then 
 You'll have me quite as big again. 
 Meanwhile, you cannot fail to find 
 Here plenty greater of my kind. 
 Release me, and I'll show you where 
 You'll get sufficient and to spare." — 
 " Not I, indeed," replied the Crane ; 
 " So you implore and weep in vain. 
 You say a month, but in a day 
 You may be far enough away. 
 Then, as for what you talk about 
 Your larger friends, — know, silly Trout, 
 That one fish in my bill I deem, 
 Worth half a dozexi in the stream." 
 
 Some men, who lack the fisher's wit, 
 Will hazard certain benefit 
 To seek a greater doubtful one, 
 And finish by possessing none.
 
 78 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LYIII. 
 
 CIj* Wikvfo uvfo tin %m, 
 
 One day in March, when Wind and Sun, 
 Were struggling for the upper hand, 
 
 And Spring already had begun 
 
 To scatter flowers about the land, — 
 
 A traveller, in mantle dight, 
 
 Was trudging o'er a wooded plain ; 
 
 And, spite of cold, his heart was light 
 To hear the singing-birds again. 
 
 And presently grew gayer still, 
 
 When, as he journey'd, by degrees 
 
 The Wind became less rude and chill, 
 And sank into a pleasant breeze. 
 
 But Boreas was not yet subdued, 
 He was but taking breath awhile, 
 
 And laugh'd in mockery as he view'd 
 The wanderer's gladsome gait and smile. 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " cried he, " this man at length 
 No longer fears my fierce attack ; 
 
 But soon I'll let him feel my strength, 
 And blow the mantle oft' his back." —
 
 THE WIND AND THE SUN. 79 
 
 " Nay," said the Sun, " on that, I know, 
 " You'll vainly spend your roughest blast ; 
 
 For savagely as you may blow, 
 You'll find it firmer on at last." 
 
 The blusterer answer'd : " You shall see ! 
 
 But I will bet you, for the joke, 
 In equal contest I shall be 
 
 The first to ease him of his cloak. 
 
 " I'll try my strength for half an hour, 
 
 And if I've not succeeded then, 
 I'll leave you free to show your pow'r : 
 
 If neither wins, we'll try again." 
 
 The Sun agreed ; the Wind began 
 The tournament with such a gust, 
 
 He nearly overturn'd the man, 
 
 And fill'd his eyes with blinding dust. 
 
 Again he raged : the forest bent ; 
 
 The birds all trembled in affright : 
 The valleys howl'd ; the trees were rent ; 
 
 The clouds of heaven fled the sight. 
 
 '9' 
 
 But all the fiercer that he blew, 
 
 And fretted, fumed, and lash'd the ground, 
 
 The shivering traveller only drew 
 His mantle all the closer round.
 
 80 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 At length the Wind's half-hour expired, 
 And, wearied, humbled, mortified, 
 
 In sullen anger he retired, 
 
 While Sol came forth in all his pride. 
 
 All nature, gaining courage now, 
 Grew calm again, while everything 
 
 Look'd up to greet his smiling brow, 
 And every bird began to sing. 
 
 Rejoicing at the sudden change, 
 
 The traveller too held up his head ; 
 
 And though he thought the weather strange. 
 Had soon resumed his lightsome tread. 
 
 And while he thus pursued his way, 
 And Sol kept shining on his form 
 
 With growing power and steady ray, 
 He felt himself becoming warm. 
 
 j s 
 
 Ere twenty minutes now had past, 
 Succumbing to the potent charm, 
 
 The man took off his cloak at last, 
 And threw it loosely on his arm. 
 
 If ever you desire to bend 
 
 Another's conduct to your will, 
 
 Try kindness' genial ray, my friend,- 
 Not anger's gale severe and chill.
 
 THE DOG AND HIS SHADOW. 81 
 
 LIX. 
 
 ^\t §00 ana fcs Sbaaato. 
 
 A Dog, who from a butcher's shop 
 
 Had carried off a mutton-chop, 
 
 And heard the owner in pursuit, 
 
 Jump'd, to avoid his heavy boot, 
 
 Into a river running nigh, 
 
 Where man and boot he might defy. 
 
 But looking down when half-way through, 
 
 And happening in the stream to view 
 
 His shadow, to his greedy eyes 
 
 It seem'd another cur and prize. 
 
 He sprang upon it, to obtain 
 
 The booty, but he sprang in vain : 
 
 Not only did he gain no more, 
 
 But lost the meat he had before, 
 
 Which in his hurry letting go, 
 
 It vanish'd in the flood below. 
 
 Beware of shadows in life's stream, 
 However tempting they may seem : 
 By catching at them as they cross'd, 
 Their substance many men have lost. 
 
 G
 
 82 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LX. 
 
 Q%t $a* t i\t Mali an& fy farse. 
 
 A hungry Fox, one night, while out 
 
 On pillage,- having roam'd about 
 
 Some hours and yet obtain'd no prey, 
 
 Now met a Wolf upon his way, 
 
 To whom, their salutations o'er, 
 
 He said : " I trust you've met with more 
 
 Success than I can boast to-night ; 
 
 For I've not even caught a sight 
 
 Of chicken, pullet, hen, or cock 
 
 Since yester-eve at nine o'clock" — 
 
 " Oh," said the Wolf, " two days have pass'd 
 
 Since I contrived to break my fast." — 
 
 "Then come with me," the Fox replied, 
 
 "And you may soon be satisfied. 
 
 In yonder field I saw a Horse; 
 
 And though the flesh is rather coarse, 
 
 And I'm not fond of eating hacks, 
 
 I shouldn't mind if we went snacks. 
 
 Alone I couldn't kill the beast, 
 
 Or I'd have tried a horse-flesh feast 5 
 
 But now, I think, if we unite 
 
 Our forces, we may dare the fight." 
 
 The Wolf immediately agreed, 
 And off they trotted to the mead ;
 
 THE FOX, THE WOLF, AND THE HORSE. 
 
 But as they near'd their destined prey, 
 Each fearing to commence the fray, 
 They went, as prudent warriors ought, 
 To reconnoitre ere they fought. 
 So Renard, readiest in discourse, 
 Began conversing with the Horse, 
 Said he : " Good evening, Master Steed. 
 You seem to come of noble breed : 
 How are you named may I inquire 1 " 
 The Horse replied : " They call me Squire." 
 Fox ask'd his age, and when he told, 
 Declared he thought him not so old : 
 And then he ask'd his owner's name. 
 The Horse made answer : "As I came 
 Into his hands but recently, 
 His name is not yet known to me ; 
 But if you wish, I think that you 
 May see it stamp'd upon my shoe." 
 
 Said Benard, guessing his intent : 
 " Alas ! my friend, I never went 
 To school, and cannot read a word, 
 My worthy sire could not afford 
 The outlay for my education, 
 As he was but of humble station, 
 And lived and died extremely poor ; 
 But" — bowing to the Wolf — "I'm sure 
 My comrade, of scholastic fame, 
 Will in a moment read the name." 
 
 The flatter'd Wolf, as this was said, 
 Approach'd to read, and bent his head ;
 
 84 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 When, ere he could suspect the trick, 
 Squire clove his skull with mighty kick. 
 
 Imprimis, if you would not meet 
 With kicks, beware of horses' feet ; 
 And, item, if another wishes you 
 Some act instead of him to do, 
 Consider first if he refrains 
 From lack of skill or fear of pains. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 CIj* Ci^jri-rap gatrar. 
 
 Practising the art of dancing 
 On the tight-rope, and advancing 
 
 In dexterity apace, 
 Skipp'd a youth before a party 
 In a circus, who with hearty 
 
 Plaudits often fill'd the place. 
 
 By their praises animated, 
 With success exhilarated, 
 
 He accoinplish'd wonders now ; 
 Held the balance-pole so neatly — 
 Turn'd and turn'd again as featly 
 
 As a bird upon a bough.
 
 THE TIGHT-ROPE DANCER. 85 
 
 Up he leap'd so high and lightly, 
 Press'd upon the rope so slightly, 
 
 Looking like an airy sprite. 
 You'd have thought, to see him tripping, 
 Of a nimble swallow dipping 
 
 In the water on its flight. 
 
 But, with vanity elated, 
 He unwisely overrated 
 
 His ability at last ; 
 And the balance-pole, so needed, 
 Thinking that it but impeded, 
 
 Rashly to the ground he cast. 
 
 Now he danced with step unstable, 
 Lost his balance on the cable, 
 
 Slipp'd, and fell with all his weight. 
 Those about him ran in terror 
 To his aid, and found his error 
 
 Punish'd by a broken pate. 
 
 Safely on the rope existence 
 
 Would you tread, for your assistance 
 
 Reason's balance-pole employ ; 
 For without it, insecurely 
 Stepping, you will surely 
 
 Slip and fall, as did the boy.
 
 86 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXIL 
 
 C{r* 9jo0S uvfo % pons. 
 
 " In Western lands I grieve to find 
 
 So little spirit in my kind," 
 
 A travell'd Spaniel one day said 
 
 To other dogs, who stood around ; 
 "But in the East, where I was bred, 
 
 Some valiant dogs may yet be found — 
 Yes, dogs of noble race and mien, 
 
 Who fear no earthly creature's might, 
 And whom myself I've often seen 
 
 With savage Lions waging fight." — 
 " What, Toby ! do you mean to say," 
 
 Ask'd a grave Pointer in surprise, 
 " That dogs were ever known to slay 
 
 Wild beasts of such vast strength and size V 
 " Nay," said the Spaniel, " nay, my friend ; 
 
 They could not slay their foes, indeed : 
 Yet think, how famous to contend 
 
 With animals of such a breed !" — 
 "Famous !" rejoined the other, — "no; 
 
 I think such dogs are not a bit 
 Superior to ourselves, but only show 
 
 In acting thus their want of wit ; 
 For what advantage can they gain 
 In fighting only to be slain?"
 
 THE DOG IN THE MANGER. 
 
 87 
 
 This tale I beg to dedicate 
 
 To vulgar carpers at the great, 
 
 Who think to hang their own mean name 
 
 Upon the peg of others' fame. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 A Bulldog in a manger lay, 
 
 Reclining on a heap of hay. 
 
 An Ox approach' d to taste the food; 
 
 Up-sprang the Dog in savage mood, 
 
 And snarl'd and growl'd, and dared the Steer 
 
 With gnashing teeth to venture near. 
 
 The Bullock turn'd to leave the shed, 
 
 And, fired with indignation, said : 
 
 " Malicious wretch ! who cannot eat 
 
 The hay you tread beneath your feet ; 
 
 Yet, in your spite, will not permit 
 
 One who would eat to touch a bit." 
 
 How sad that men, who make pretence 
 To reason's light and moral sense, 
 Should imitate the Bulldog's greed, 
 By hoarding what they cannot need, 
 But which they churlishly refuse 
 To let a fellow-creature use.
 
 88 A CENTUKY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Cljc (toto mtir i\n Jm*. 
 
 Upon an oak-tree sat a Crow, 
 
 And peck'd a pilfer'd piece of cheese : 
 A Fox was passing down below, 
 
 And gazing up among the trees. 
 He happen'd thus to see the bird ; 
 
 And when the piece of cheese he spied, 
 A method to his mind occurr'd 
 
 To gain it, which at once he tried. 
 " Oh, what a lovely bird ! " he said ; 
 
 " What ebon plumage, thick and sleek ! 
 How rare a form ! how fine a head ! 
 
 What pointed claws, and glossy beak I 
 Oh, with such beauty, what a voice 
 
 That paragon must surely own ! 
 'T would make my very heart rejoice 
 
 To listen to its charming tone." 
 He ceased ; but still with steadfast gaze 
 
 Bent upward stood a little while, 
 As if in rapture and amaze. 
 
 The silly Crow believed the guile, 
 And fain would prove how sweet her note 
 
 (She might have thought it sweet, no doubt) ; 
 Her bill she open'd, and her throat 
 
 A grating croak or two gave out.
 
 THE HAWK AND THE THRUSH. 89 
 
 But 'mid her musical display 
 
 She dropp'd the lump of cheese, when, lo ! 
 To her unspeakable dismay, 
 
 'Twas swallow'd by the Fox below. 
 
 We should not heed what flatterers say, 
 Unless their price we wish to pay. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Cije flafork airtr % Cbruslj. 
 
 A Hawk swoop'd down with sudden rush, 
 And seized a sweetly-singing Thrush : 
 " Oh," cried he, " since jou sing so well, 
 In taste you surely must excel." 
 
 If in simplicity, or joke, 
 
 Or malice, the assassin spoke, 
 
 I know not ; but the other day 
 
 I overheard a person say : 
 
 " This lady, who can sing so sweetly, 
 
 And charm her audience so completely, 
 
 How amiable she must be !" 
 
 And this was true simplicity.
 
 90 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 Cjj* <DIa pou ana % Jfa*. 
 
 An aged Lion found his strength. 
 Each day decreasing, till at length 
 He grew so feeble that his pace 
 Was quite unequal to the chase, 
 And so resolved to have recourse 
 To strategy in lieu of force. 
 He kept his bed, and lying still, 
 Pretended to be very ill, 
 And groan'd as he were dying when 
 An animal approach'd his den ; 
 Who, entering to learn the cause, 
 Would fall before the Lion's jaws, 
 Till very soon within the cave 
 Some dozen victims found a grave. 
 
 A Fox, who happen'd to have heard 
 This matter hinted by a bird, 
 Was passing by the den one day, 
 And seeing Leo as he lay 
 (But wisely keeping out of reach), 
 Began a sham condoling speech : 
 He'd heard with grief his grace was ill, 
 But hoped 'twould not be long until 
 He would be on his legs again, 
 And well enough to leave his den.
 
 THE TWO LIZARDS AND THE DEER. 91 
 
 " Alas ! " replied the invalid, 
 " I fear it will be long indeed : 
 I feel so bad I cannot eat, 
 And shudder at the smell of meat ; — 
 But won't you step inside a while 1 " — 
 
 " Nay," answer'd Renard, with a smile ; 
 "For leading up to your retreat 
 I see the marks of many feet, 
 But none that point the other way ; 
 And so, in spite of what you say, 
 And all your sighs and hollow moans, 
 When I behold yon pile of bones, 
 I hardly think that you have quite 
 So very bad an appetite." 
 
 A crafty person thus divines, 
 From doubtful hints and little signs, 
 A peril, where the treacherous wile 
 Entraps the man devoid of guile. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 £fjc &fo0 Icarus nrctr % Qccr. 
 
 Two Lizards on an ancient wall 
 Were promenading in the sun, 
 " D'you know, companion," said the one, 
 
 "I like not this dull life at all —
 
 92 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 If life, indeed, one ought to style 
 A state so void of liveliness. 
 It often fills me with distress 
 
 To think I am a thing so vile. 
 I wish I were a noble deer, — 
 
 Like that — see — who with nimble bound, 
 
 So gaily gallops o'er the ground, — 
 Instead of vegetating here." — 
 
 " Stay !" answered his associate ; 
 " See yonder comes the yelping pack 
 Upon the flying creature's track : 
 
 You need not envy him his fate. 
 Look ! there, they gain upon him now ; 
 
 He turns, and fiercely stands at bay ; 
 
 The stag-hounds hurry to the fray; 
 He flings one o'er his frowning brow, 
 
 And dyes his antlers with his gore ; 
 But others come — with ruthless fang 
 Upon his neck they spring and hang, — 
 
 And now he falls to rise no more !" 
 The other Lizard, when he saw 
 
 The hapless Stag's untimely death, 
 
 Said : " Ne'er again I'll waste my breath 
 In cavilling at Nature's law ; 
 
 For though I lead in my low state 
 A less adventurous career 
 Than has been that of yonder Dee 1 *, 
 
 I little dread so sad a fate."
 
 THE SWAN AND THE DRAKE. 93 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 Cjre Stat mtfr % grata. 
 
 Slowly, in majestic silence, 
 
 Sail'd a Swan upon a lake : 
 Round about him, never quiet, 
 
 Swam a noisy quacking Drake. 
 
 "Swan," exclaim'd the latter, halting, 
 
 " I can scarcely comprehend 
 AVhy I never hear you talking : 
 
 Are you really dumb, my friend V 
 
 Said the Swan, by way of answer : 
 " I have wonder'd, when you make 
 
 Such a shocking, senseless clatter, 
 Whether you are deaf, Sir Drake!" 
 
 
 Better, like the Swan, remain in 
 Silence grave and dignified, 
 
 Than keep, drake-like, ever prating, 
 While your listeners deride.
 
 94 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 %\% (Saxbmcr mito $is $jft. 
 
 A Gardener, somewhere in the East, 
 
 A hundred years ago at least, 
 
 Possess'd a very docile Ape, 
 
 As like to man in size and shape, 
 
 In habits and sagacity, 
 
 As any of his race might be. 
 
 So tame, indeed, had grown the brute, 
 
 He never stole his master's fruit, 
 
 Nor play'd such antics as we find 
 
 So prevalent in monkey-kind ; 
 
 But rather strove, in all he could, 
 
 To use his talents for some good : 
 
 He kept the sparrows from the peas, 
 
 And guarded well the cherry-trees ; 
 
 He drove the cats from beds of seed, 
 
 And sometimes even help'd to weed. 
 
 This creature's owner, every day 
 In summer, after dinner lay 
 Reposing in the shade some time 
 (A pleasant thing in Eastern clime). 
 The Monkey, squatting near his head, 
 Like nurse beside a patient's bed, 
 Would guard his sleep with watchful eyes, 
 And brush away intruding flies.
 
 THE GARDENER AND HIS APE. 95 
 
 Once, as the Gardener in this style 
 Was dozing for a little while, 
 A big Bluebottle came along, 
 And pausing in his buzzing song, 
 Perch'd on the sleeper's ruddy nose, 
 Like bee upon a budding rose. 
 No sooner had the fly alit 
 Than Master Handy * made him flit ; 
 But, impudent as all his race, 
 The insect hover'd round the place, 
 And presently came bouncing back, 
 Resolved to try a fresh attack, 
 And settled on the Gardener's chin. 
 The Monkey flapp'd, with spiteful grin ; 
 Whereon the Fly but made a skip, 
 And lighted on the sleeper's lip. 
 This insolence roused Handy's rage, 
 And so, more furious than sage, 
 Clutching a pebble from the ground 
 (That might have weigh'd at least a pound), 
 With sudden blow, and angry cry, 
 He smash'd the aggravating Fly ; — 
 But as he did it, need I tell ? 
 He broke his master's jaw as well. 
 
 This ancient Indian fable shows, 
 Rash friends may be as bad as foes. 
 
 * The Ape may thus be named no less from his quadrumanal 
 than his dexterous nature.
 
 96 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 &bc pen, % Moli aritr ijw gm 
 
 King Lion cauglit a cold one day, 
 
 Which made him very ill ; 
 And moaning in his den he lay, 
 
 As even monarchs will. 
 
 His courtiers throng'd to visit him, 
 
 And many stood around, 
 Attentive to his slightest whim, 
 
 In reverence profound. 
 
 Lord Wolf had come among the rest, 
 
 To watch beside the bed ; 
 And feigning to be much distrest, 
 
 Full many tears he shed. 
 
 Meanwhile 'twas whisper'd round by some, 
 Who wish'd their zeal to show, 
 
 Not once Sir Renard yet had come 
 The Monarch's state to know. 
 
 " What's that you say 1 " the sufferer said : 
 
 " That rascal Fox not here ! 
 For this neglect we'll have his head, 
 
 Unless good cause appear."
 
 THE LIOX, THE WOLF, AND THE FOX. 97 
 
 The Wolf, to Renard then a foe, 
 
 With ready guile replied : 
 " His absence coineth, sire, I know, 
 
 From insolence and pride." — 
 
 "Let him at once be hither brought !" 
 
 Exclaim'd the Lion then ; 
 And so the Fox was quickly sought, 
 
 And hurried to the den. 
 
 His captors had inform'd him what 
 
 The Wolf had said of him; 
 But yet Sir Renard trembled not 
 
 Before the despot grim. 
 
 " Long live the King ! " he said : " I grieve 
 
 To see him in this way ; 
 But trust my efforts may relieve 
 
 My liege without delay." — 
 
 " Your efforts, knave ! " the Lion cried ; 
 
 But Renard meekly said : 
 " Believe me, sire, I am belied 
 
 By some about your bed : 
 
 " I come but now from pilgrimage 
 
 For your recovery ; 
 Wherein I learn'd, from a great sage, 
 
 A certain remedy." — 
 
 H
 
 98 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 "A remedy!" exclaim'd the King; 
 
 " Speak, Renard, and be quick ! 
 Tis what I want — the very thing ; 
 
 "I'm tired of being sick." — 
 
 :: The cure was this," the other said — 
 And half a grin he made — 
 
 " To wrap all warm about your head 
 A wolf-skin newly flay'd." 
 
 The King thought this a likely way, 
 And so he call'd the Bear, 
 
 His executioner, to flay 
 
 The Wolf before him there. 
 
 A man who practises deceit 
 To work another's ruin, 
 
 We cannot pity if he meet 
 With human Fox and Bruin. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 (Tbc Sxlktarm antr % Spibtr. 
 
 A group of insects sat one day 
 Conversing in a friendly way ; 
 And happening in their talk to start 
 The subject of the textile art.
 
 THE SILKWORM AND THE SPIDEK. 99 
 
 An Emmet said : " The Silkworm's skill 
 In spinning, I should think, would fill 
 The keenest critic with amaze. 
 What wondrous talent she displays ! 
 It seems almost beyond belief, 
 That she from such a simple leaf 
 Can fashion threads so soft and fine, 
 That glitter in the sun and shine 
 Like golden threads ; — and talk of gold, 
 Why, even men, from time untold, — 
 And all will grant they have some sense, — 
 Have thought the Silkworm's diligence 
 Prepares an ornament of worth 
 Surpass'd by few upon the earth." 
 
 The company in every word 
 She utter'd heartily concurr'd, 
 Except a Spider, who confess'd 
 She differ'd somewhat from the rest ; 
 She had not found the Silkworm's thread 
 So fine and soft as had been said, 
 And it had many a slight defect 
 A close observer might detect. 
 
 On this, a Bee, who for a while 
 Was resting there, said, with a smile : 
 " Our friends must recollect that you, 
 The critic, are a spinner too." 
 
 Well for a man, if unsurvey'd 
 His work by rivals in his trade. 
 h2
 
 100 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Cjr* <&w$k antr Ijcr Jfricnbs. 
 
 Once on a time a young Gazelle 
 
 Lay very ill within a dell. 
 
 Her friends — not many then in all — 
 
 Came now and then to pay a call ; 
 
 "Would stay a while, be press'd to eat, 
 
 And find the grass so very sweet, 
 
 That soon their friendly visits grew 
 
 In number and duration too. 
 
 Each brought a friend, who brought his own, 
 
 Till many came, and none alone ; 
 
 And thus, ere many days could pass, 
 
 They ate up all the neighbouring grass. 
 
 But all at once, when this was finish'd, 
 
 The number of the calls diminish'd, 
 
 Until few visitors were seen, 
 
 For periods short and far between. 
 
 Meanwhile the hapless patient found 
 No food remaining all around ; 
 And having struggled hard in vain 
 To drag her weak limbs to the plain, 
 Lay down again with piteous moan, 
 And died of hunger there alone.
 
 THE BLACKSMITH AND HIS DOG. 101 
 
 While men are rich like the Gazelle, 
 They lack not friends, if ill or well ; 
 But with the wealth these help too spend 
 Their friendship too will mostly end. ; 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 dDJr* ^(athsrwtb antr Ms Hog, 
 
 A certain Blacksmith had a Dog, 
 Who, lying near the forge all day, 
 
 Would sleep as soundly as a hog, 
 The while his master thump' d away. 
 
 But when the Smith sat down to dine, 
 At but the small noise of his jaws 
 
 The Dog would wake up with a whine, 
 And raise himself upon his paws. 
 
 " Sage brute," his owner one day said, 
 
 " Who, when the ground beneath thee quakes, 
 
 Wilt never deign to lift thy head, 
 
 Yet whom the teeth's liarlat motion wakes. 
 
 *o 
 
 '• Some men might wisely copy thee, 
 Who, paying no regard to what 
 
 It would be well to hear or see, 
 
 Attend to what concerns them not."
 
 102 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 &\n Sukrbc mntr i\n Jfttscr. 
 
 Fortune's acts are oft judicious, 
 Though we deem her so capricious, — 
 Changeable as wind or weather, 
 Void of justice altogether, — 
 Frowning, smiling, for a season, — 
 Suddenly, without a reason, 
 Turning sorrow into gladness, 
 Giving happiness for sadness. 
 Thus men commonly revile her ; 
 Blind and fickle, too, they style her : 
 But I think her reputation 
 Suffers much from defamation : 
 Let the stoiy that ensueth 
 Prove she sometimes wisely doetfa. 
 
 To a man, not dull or vicious, 
 Was this goddess unpropitious ; 
 Nor, in spite of all endeavour, 
 Had he won her kindness ever ; 
 And he found himself and his re- 
 duced at last to want and mis'ry. 
 Tired of bearing any longer 
 Life in poverty and hunger, 
 He determined to escape hence, 
 And expended some few ha'pence
 
 THE SUICIDE AND THE MISER. 103 
 
 (Which he was obliged to borrow) 
 On a rope to end his sorrow, — 
 Thinking not, 'tis better suffer 
 Present pains than fly to rougher. 
 
 So the wretched man, deluded, 
 Hasten'd to a spot secluded, 
 Where some ruins stood, and clamber'd 
 Up upon a wall ; then hammer'd 
 In a spike, and when he found it 
 Firm in, tied the rope around it ; 
 Made a noose about his neck, and 
 Leaping forward, in a second 
 Of the world his leave had taken. 
 But the wall so rudely shaken, 
 
 Being rather old and crumbled, 
 
 Could not bear him — totter'd — tumbled! 
 
 Up he rose in some confusion 
 
 Suffering from a large contusion 
 
 On his head, and in displeasure 
 
 Gazed around — when, lo ! a treasm-e ! 
 
 Golden guineas did he view in 
 
 Hundreds lying 'mid the ruin. 
 
 Here was all that he had needed ; 
 
 Spike and rope no more he heeded, 
 
 But with eager hand collected 
 
 All the coin3 that he detected ; 
 
 Then, with bosom full and swelling, 
 
 Hasten'd to his humble dwelling,
 
 104 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 Offering up his thanks to Heaven 
 For the boon which it had given. 
 After this good luck, 'tis said he 
 Lived contented, ever ready 
 "With assistance large and speedy 
 For the aged, sick, and needy. 
 
 Now, the hider of the money 
 Was a Miser ; but though none he 
 Ever spent, to view his treasure 
 Was his sordid mind's sole pleasure. 
 Presently he took it in his 
 Head to come and see his guineas. 
 When he found the gold had vanish 'd, 
 Comfort from his soul he banish'd, 
 Wildly shriek'd, and tore his hair in 
 Horror, utterly despairing. 
 " Gold !" he cried, " that I so cherish'd- 
 For thy safety I'd have perish'd. 
 Curse the villain that bereft me 
 Of my darling coins, and left me 
 Nought on earth ! I cannot bear it. 
 Oh, the wretch ! could he not share it ! 
 But, alas ! 'tis no use crying ; 
 Nought is left me now but dying." 
 
 Spike and rope he found all ready 
 To the wall, where less unsteady,
 
 THE SUICIDE AND THE MISER. 105 
 
 Fasten'd them (rejoicing when he 
 Thought they cost him not a penny) ; 
 Then crept up on hands and knees, and 
 Tied the rope around his weazand, 
 Took a plunge, and in a minute 
 Choking was suspended in it. 
 
 Thus his life he ended, giving 
 Wholesome warning to the living, 
 Who have money, to employ it, 
 If they would indeed enjoy it. 
 Those who spend it, sure are wiser 
 Than the greedy-handed miser, 
 AVho adores but does not use it ; 
 Ne'er enjoys, but fears to lose it ; 
 From existence would be sunder'd 
 Rather than of gold be plunder'd. 
 On this lesson may you ponder ; 
 Learn to spend, though not to squander. 
 Wisely use your wealth, then shall you 
 Know its veritable value. 
 Let not loss of money grieve you ; 
 But if every shilling leave you, 
 Strive to win contentment, which is 
 Better far than untold riches.
 
 106 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXY. 
 
 Cij£ %p m tin Muter. 
 
 An Ape had fallen off a tree 
 Whose branches overhung the sea ; 
 And, paddling hard with every hand, 
 Was struggling to regain the land. 
 But all in vain he strove, and tried 
 To swim against the ebbing tide : 
 He felt him sinking in the brine, 
 And then began to scream and whine : 
 " O Neptune, mighty Neptune, save 
 Thy servant from a watery grave ! 
 Oh, save me, and I will adore 
 Thy gracious goodness evermore. 
 I'll offer thee the finest fruits, 
 And preach thy power to all the brutes, 
 Till over forest, hill, and plain, 
 Thou 'It be revered as in the main. 
 Oh, help me, help me to escape, 
 And I will be a pious Ape !" 
 
 A billow came along, and bore 
 The frantic speaker close in shore ; 
 He clutch'd a bough above his head, 
 And, as he clamber'd up it, said :
 
 THE EAGLE AND THE ARROW. 107 
 
 " You need not trouble, Neptune, now ; 
 I'll save myself, and spare my vow ! " 
 
 When health returns, thus often vain 
 Are vows men make on bed of pain. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Cbe (!5hcjIc antr ffjc §Urotu. 
 
 An Eagle, pausing in his flight, 
 Perch'd on a craggy mountain-height. 
 A Hunter bent his deadly bow, 
 And laid the winged monarch low ; 
 Who, as he felt the pangs of death, 
 Exclaim'd, with feeble, ebbing breath : 
 " It were not half such pain to die, 
 But on this arrow I descry 
 A feather dropp'd from my own wing, 
 Which lends the dart a sharper sting." 
 
 'Tis hard to suffer wrong from those 
 A man has ever deem'd his foes ; 
 But harder if a former friend 
 His aid in injuring^ him should lend.
 
 108 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 (The ^fnhuj-tisb. 
 
 A Flying-fish, of tender age, 
 
 With his condition discontented, 
 
 Had met another, old and sage, 
 
 And thus to hira his fate lamented : 
 
 " Alas, my venerable friend ! 
 
 You find me grievously embarrass' d, 
 And quite unable to contend 
 
 With all the foes by whom I'm harass'd. 
 
 " I wonder you so long a space 
 
 Have managed to escape the dangers 
 
 Which threaten all our feeble race, 
 
 Surrounded by the fierce sea-rangers. 
 
 " For me, when mounting in the air, 
 The ocean-eagles rush to kill me ; 
 
 And when the watery depths I dare, 
 
 The ravenous sharks with terror fill me." 
 
 The other said : " My bold young spark. 
 Both ways you seem to run on slaughter 
 
 Since not an eagle or a shark, 
 
 Swim near the air, fly near the water."
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE FKOGS. 109 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 &\n ^i^ihxQnh attb % Jtccjs. 
 
 "Sing again, sweet Nightingale !" 
 Cried a Shepherd in a vale, 
 On a lovely night in spring, 
 As the songster ceased to sing. 
 "Nay," replied the Nightingale, 
 " Who could listen to my tale, 
 While the Frogs, with voices harsh, 
 Croak so loud in yonder marsh 1 
 All my music would be drown'd. 
 Don't you hear the shocking sound ?" — 
 " Yes, I've heard it," said the Swain, 
 " Since you ended your sweet strain ; 
 But while you were singing, I 
 Never knew that Frogs were nigh." 
 
 Sing on, favour'd sons of song : 
 Never heed the noisy throng 
 Of the vulgar, mire-born race, 
 Croaking at Parnassus' base ; 
 For in vain they tire their throats, 
 While we hear your gushing notes. 
 
 -oC\SX(?.. , 3o~
 
 110 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Cbc jjmttit, % Jfakon, imtr .% gate. 
 
 A Hermit, who Lad fled the strife 
 Of men, and led a lonely life 
 Within a forest, as he stroll' d 
 One morning listless through the wold, 
 Beheld a Falcon on a tree, 
 Employ' d in feeding tenderly, 
 With flesh he carried in his beak, 
 An aged Raven, grey and weak. 
 
 "Oh, bounteous God!" the Hermit cried, 
 "Who can so wondrously provide 
 For his poor creatures' wants, and give 
 A bird unsought wherewith to live. 
 This mii'acle must surely be 
 Perform'd as a rebuke to me : 
 It shows me the great Power on high 
 Will all necessities supply, 
 If we await in confidence 
 The bounty of his providence. 
 Henceforth, no more I'll roam the wood 
 In needless search of daily food, 
 But calmly in my cell attend 
 What he for my support may send." 
 
 So on his couch the Hermit lay, 
 And waited on from day to day ; 
 But none appear'd, to bring him aid. 
 And all in vain he hoped and pray'd.
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL FLOWER. Ill 
 
 Thus four days pass'cl ; when, lo ! at night 
 
 An Angel stood before his sight, 
 
 And said : " O foolish man, and blind, 
 
 Who seekest here in sloth to find 
 
 What God has righteously ordain'd 
 
 By labour only should be gain'd, — 
 
 The Raven's case is none of thine, 
 
 And thou hast misconstrued the sign : 
 
 Know that the miracle was meant 
 
 To render thee less indolent. 
 
 Thou saw'st the vigorous Falcon feed 
 
 The helpless Eaven : from his deed 
 
 Learn how mankind should help each other : 
 
 Go succour some poor feeble brother ; 
 
 Trust Providence, but tempt it not !" 
 
 He said, and vanish'd from the spot. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 (L be gcuuttftti Jfloto. 
 
 Before the feather'd races from repose 
 One morning Ada with her mother rose, 
 And wander'd forth at dawn's first early rays, 
 
 While yet the flowers were gemm'd with dew, 
 
 Intent the rising sun to view, 
 And hear the waking birds trill forth their lays. 
 So fresh, so pure the air, so beautiful the ground ! 
 At Ada's age what sweet delight 'tis found,
 
 112 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 To view the verdant lea, the tinted sky, 
 And feel the balmy zephyrs floating by. 
 Ah ! spring iu spring of life is truly sweet ! 
 So Ada's heart with pleasure wildly beat, 
 As blithely o'er the meadow-land she sped, 
 And up the mountain-side with fearless tread. 
 Her mother felt like pleasure, but subdued, 
 As nature's now renewing bloom she view'd. 
 The flowers were flourishing with new-born life, 
 Enamelling the sward, with fragi'ance rife ; 
 And Ada, in her simple childish glee, 
 
 Was plucking blossoms all around ; 
 
 But now a little one she found, 
 With tint as delicate as well might be. 
 She gather' cl it : 'twas charming to the sight, 
 But, oh ! its odour fill'd her with delight. 
 Admiring it awhile, she said in haste : 
 
 " Its sweetness is without alloy : 
 
 I fain would more of it enjoy ; 
 I wonder if it has a pleasant taste ; — 
 I'll try. Ah ! what a nasty, horrid cheat, — 
 To be so bitter, and yet look so sweet !" — 
 " My child," the mother said, " blame not that flower, 
 Because to please each sense it has not power. 
 Has it not colours pleasant to the sight, 
 A lovely form, and scent that yields delight 1 
 Blame but thyself, my Ada ; thou shouldst know 
 That nought is truly perfect here below ; 
 
 Then seek not from the things of earth 
 
 Such varied, never-failing worth."
 
 THE CROW AND THE GODS. 113 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 %bt tofo anb thz 6cbs. 
 
 A Crow lay very ill in bed, — 
 
 In fact, next door to dying : 
 Her mother stood beside in dread, 
 
 Continually crying. 
 
 " I beg you," said the invalid, 
 
 " Instead of weeping mother, 
 For succour in this hour of need 
 
 Implore some god or other." 
 
 The parent said : " What deity 
 
 Would grant the prayer, I wonder ! 
 
 Can you name one whose altars we 
 Have never chanced to plunder ?" 
 
 When in dislike with all mankind 
 A man's misdeeds have made him, 
 
 He scarcely can expect to find 
 A friend in need to aid him.
 
 114 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 Kjp |jnnta% % Jte, atttr % iforprfr. 
 
 In Hindostan, one day of yore, 
 
 A Hunter spied a Fox, who bore 
 
 So sleek a coat, he long'd to win 
 
 The animal's undamaged skin. 
 
 So, pondering how he might contrive 
 
 Some scheme to capture him alive, 
 
 Unseen he watch'd him to his den, 
 
 And stay'd till he came forth again ; 
 
 Then at the entrance dug a pit, 
 
 And lightly spreading over it 
 
 Some slender sticks, and leaves, and grass, 
 
 Laid on, against the Fox should pass, 
 
 A piece of lamb's flesh for a bait. 
 
 This done, he hid himself, to wait 
 
 The issue of his cunning plan ; 
 
 But in an hour or so began 
 
 To weary of his watch, and laid 
 
 Him down to rest beneath the shade 
 
 Of some thick trees that hard-by grew, 
 
 And fell asleep before he knew, 
 
 To dream, throughout a troubled slumber, 
 
 Of catching foxes without number. 
 
 The Fox, returning while he slept, 
 To reach his cover softly crept ;
 
 THE HUNTER, THE FOX, AND THE LEOPAKD. 115 
 
 And when he spied the piece of meat, 
 Had great desire to taste the treat ; 
 But still, suspicious of some guile, 
 He look'd around a little while, 
 And marking symptoms of a snare, 
 Resolved to seek another lair. 
 
 Scarce had the Fox departed, when 
 A hungry Leopard pass'd the den, 
 Beheld the flesh upon the ground, 
 And sprang upon it with a bound. 
 The sticks gave way as he alit, 
 And down he fell into the pit. 
 The noise aroused the man, who thought 
 This surely was the prey he sought ; 
 And so, without a glance below, 
 He leapt into the trench, when, oh ! 
 The Leopard clutch'd him with his claws, 
 And tore him up with ravenous jaws. 
 
 See caution in the Fox avail, 
 
 And rashness in the Leopard fail, 
 
 A lurking danger to detect ; 
 
 Then in your actions recollect 
 
 The miserable Hunter's fate, 
 
 And be not too precipitate ; 
 
 And learn, in traps that they prepared 
 
 For others men have oft been snared. 
 
 I ^
 
 116 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 L XXXIII. 
 
 One day the Horse had come to drink 
 
 At his accustom'd pool ; 
 But as he stood upon the brink, 
 
 To sip the water cool, — 
 
 He found a Boar lay wallowing there, 
 
 Who made the fluid foul ; 
 On which a quarrel 'twixt the pair 
 
 Began with neigh and growl. 
 
 Pei'haps they might at ouce have fought 
 But for the Pig's huge teeth, 
 
 For which the Horse discreetly thought 
 His skin should prove no sheath. 
 
 So off he canter'd to the Man 
 
 For help against his foe, 
 And told him of a certain plan 
 
 To work his overthrow. 
 
 The Man upon his back should sit, 
 And cast his arrows thence ; 
 
 And when the Boar the dust had bit, 
 He'd be his recompense.
 
 THE HORSE, THE BOAR, AND THE MAN. 117 
 
 To this the Man at once agreed, 
 
 And made the Horse a rein ; 
 Then vaulted on his willing steed, 
 
 And trotted o'er the plain. 
 
 The Boar, astonish'd at the sight, 
 
 Away in terror ran ; 
 But presently his headlong flight 
 
 Was shoi'ten'd by the Man. 
 
 Now, when the Boar on earth lay dead, 
 
 The Horse would fain be free : 
 " Pray, sir, take off this rein," he said, 
 
 " For much it troubles me." — 
 
 " Nay, that I will not do, my friend," 
 
 The Cavalier replied ; 
 " For now thy use I comprehend, 
 
 I'll keep thee fast to ride." 
 
 Small wrongs 'tis better to endure, 
 
 Than yield our liberty 
 To some strong neighbour, to procure 
 
 Revenge for injury. 
 
 ■----r^*^-
 
 118 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 <£be Jti* mfo % 6 raps. 
 
 One sultry day, a long time past, 
 A Fox who'd travell'd far and fast, 
 And suffer'd now from thirst intense, 
 Was passing by a vineyard fence, 
 O'er which a loaded vine-branch hung. 
 When Eenard saw it up he sprung 
 To seize the tempting fruit, but found 
 He'd made by far too short a bound. 
 He jump'd again with all his might, 
 But could not touch the clusters quite 
 And many leaps he made, but each 
 By some few iuches fail'd to reach. 
 Then as among the bougbs he heard, 
 The tittering laugh of many a bird, 
 Who, feasting on the luscious spoil, 
 Was mocking at his fruitless toil, 
 He said, with supercilious air : 
 " On close inspection, I declare, 
 The grapes look very green and small, 
 And would not suit my taste at all. 
 I could not eat such things as these, 
 Or I might get at them with ease. 
 When they are ripe, some other day, 
 I'll have them, if I pass this way."
 
 THE LIONESS AND THE WILDCAT. 119 
 
 Hence people say, " The grapes are sour," 
 When in attempt beyond his pow'r 
 A man is baffled, and then feigns 
 The object is not worth his pains. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 &Ije Sumxss att& % Wxfbmt 
 
 A Lioness and "Wildcat, meeting, 
 Exchanged a very courteous greeting, 
 And fell into a conversation, 
 Which chanced to turn on population ; 
 Wherein the Cat express'd some wonder. 
 That though herself had seldom under 
 Her ten or dozen young ones yearly, 
 Her friend, she understood, had merely 
 Through all her life, some half a dozen. 
 The other said : " I grant it, cousin ; 
 Still, if I only had one scion, — 
 Consider, it would be a Lion." 
 
 Learn, O prolific verse-inditers, 
 
 And fashionable -novel-writers, 
 
 Who with your dull and misty vapour 
 
 Discolour reams on reams of paper, 
 
 With which our library-shelves are cumber'd, 
 
 That men's works should be weigh'd, not number'd.
 
 120 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 A Pilgrim, to a distant country bound, 
 
 As night approach'd, and darkness gatlier'd round, 
 
 Lay down beneath a palace-porch to rest, 
 
 His staff beside, his cloak around him prest. 
 
 The King, perceiving him, thus sternly cried : 
 
 " Begone ! no longer slumbering here abide ! 
 
 Pursue thy way, or seek another bed ; 
 
 Nor "neath my palace dare to lay thy head, 
 
 As 'twere a lodging-house." The old man eyed 
 
 The royal sj)eaker calmly, and replied : 
 
 " How many here before thyself have reign'd ?" — 
 
 " Two hundred monarchs have these walls contain'd." — 
 
 " And were these rulers of a single line, 
 
 All ancestors direct of thee or thine 1 " — 
 
 " No ; thirty dynasties have worn the crown, 
 
 Exalted by the people or put down ; 
 
 And as each king his reign has signalized 
 
 By virhious deeds or tyranny, 
 Has he been honour'd ever, or despised 
 
 And driven forth to infamy/' — 
 " "Well, then," the Pilgrim said, u this place I deem, 
 Where stranger guests so oft have reign'd supreme, 
 
 No palace, but an hostelry." 
 
 Some things that differ totally in name, 
 lii nature may be very much the same.
 
 THE FLY AND THE BULL. 121 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 Ut Jfb an* tin guIL 
 
 Ojste day a Fly, with heat opprest, 
 
 Upon a Bull's horn sat to rest ; 
 
 But fearing lest so great a load 
 
 The animal might incommode, 
 
 In courteous accent she inquired 
 
 If of her weight the Bull felt tired. 
 
 " Who speaks 1 " replied the bellowing throat ; 
 
 " I thought I heard some insect's note, 
 
 But know not where, nor what it said." — 
 
 "'Twas I that spoke — here, on your head," 
 
 Said Madam Fly. " I fear'd my weight 
 
 Upon your horn might be too great. 
 
 If so, you've but the woi-d to say, 
 
 And I at once will fly away. " — 
 
 " Nay," said the Bull, " excuses spare : 
 
 Till now I knew not you were there ; 
 
 I feel you not, and shall not know 
 
 How long you stay, or when you go." 
 
 In human form how many flies 
 Are apt to overrate their size.
 
 122 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 %\i g0jg mth tin gflnkjr. 
 
 One morning, at the break of day, 
 A rustic, on a journey bound, 
 
 Had started forth upon his way, 
 Attended by his Ass and Hound. 
 
 The Donkey trudged with steady pace, 
 But ever straight along the track : 
 
 The Dog began a nimble race 
 
 For half a mile, and then ran back. 
 
 He started swiftly off again, 
 
 Retraced his footsteps as before ; 
 
 Then coursed in circles o'er the plain, 
 And lengthen'd every mile to four. 
 
 When half the journey thus was run, 
 The Dog lay panting in the grass ; 
 
 But just as when he'd first begun, 
 And still unwearied, went the Ass. 
 
 Now, reader, say — which travell'd best 1 
 Was it the Dog, of pace so fleet ; 
 
 Or his companion, who progrest 
 
 With slow, but sure and sober feet 1
 
 .ESOP AND THE BLOCKHEAD. 123 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 A blockhead, strolling through the street 
 One clay, with ^Esop chanced to meet, 
 At whom, from wantonness or spite, 
 He threw a stone with all his micfht, 
 And struck the wise man on the arm, 
 Who show'd not anger or alarm, 
 But from his pocket sixpence drew, 
 And said : " I grieve I cannot offer you 
 A lax*ger sum, for I am poor ; 
 But if you will, you may ensure 
 By such a deed a good reward. 
 See, hither comes a noble lord ; 
 Now, throw at him without delay, 
 And handsomely no doubt he'll pay." 
 
 The dolt did as the sage advised, 
 But was unpleasantly surprised 
 To find himself convey 'd to jail, 
 And sent for trial without bail. 
 
 Though doing wrong for once succeed, 
 To grief at last 'twill surely lead.
 
 124 A CENTURY OF FABLES, 
 
 XC 
 
 Cfo Mali aittr tin Biaxk. 
 
 u 
 
 A Wolf, who had been forced to keep 
 
 A rather lengthy fast, 
 Contrived to carry off a sheep 
 
 To make a meal at last. 
 
 But as, rejoicing o'er his luck, 
 
 He gobbled up the mutton, 
 A bone fast in his gullet stuck, 
 
 And nearly choked the glutton. 
 
 He struggled hard, and cough'd, and retch'd, 
 
 And roll'd about in pain ; 
 His neck he twisted, strain'd, and stretch'd, 
 
 But found it all in vain. 
 
 Then to the animals around 
 
 He hurried for relief, 
 But not a single one was found 
 
 Who could assist the thief. 
 
 At last he saw a Stork come by, 
 
 And begg'd, in stifled tone, 
 That with her slender neck she'd try 
 
 To rid him of the bone.
 
 THE WOLF AND THE STORK. 125 
 
 He vowd she should be richly fee'd 
 
 For granting his request : 
 Believing him, the Stork agreed 
 
 At once to do her best. 
 
 The Wolf lay down against a tree, 
 
 And meekly cross'd his paws : 
 The Stork, advancing timidly, 
 
 Approach'd his reeking jaws ; 
 
 Then thrust her long neck down his throat, 
 
 And forced the bone away; 
 Demanding, in respectful note, 
 
 The stipulated pay. 
 
 " Fool !" said the "Wolf, " you must be mad 
 
 To seek reward of me \ 
 I think you rather should be glad 
 
 I let your neck go free." 
 
 'Tis thus a knave will recompense 
 
 His succourer in need : 
 Not thanks you gain, but insolence, 
 
 From him for kindly deed. 
 
 c-~&*5H&a~r*£-^>
 
 126 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 &Ij£ <$asmme zvfo % IMIftoteer. 
 
 Amid the foliage of a garden-bower 
 Conceal'd, there twined a Jasmine-flower, 
 From tiny blossoms purely white 
 Exhaling odours day and night ; 
 And close beside, in stately pride, 
 Arose a wallflower brightly dyed, 
 Which, vain of vulgar beauty, oft 
 At plainer flowers around it scoff 'd, 
 And to the Jasmine, 'mid the rest, 
 One day its taunting speech addrest : 
 " O thou neglected, worthless weed, 
 "lis well thou hidest thee, indeed ! 
 Pray, how presume to me so near 
 A simple form like thine to rear? — 
 To me, in matchless mantle dight, 
 With gold and purple richly bright 1 ? 
 Behold, a maiden hither hies ! 
 Afar my beauty she espies, 
 And comes at once to gather me, 
 Whom to desire is but to see. 
 By her shall I be cull'd and prized ; 
 But thou, unnoticed or despised, 
 Wilt wither in obscurity." 
 
 Thus spake the vain flower haughtily ; 
 The other still more sweetly shed 
 Its fragrance round, but nothing said.
 
 THE BOY IN THE STREAM. 127 
 
 The maiden came ; a zephyr sweet 
 Betray'd the gentle flower's retreat. 
 Aside the tangled leaves she drew 
 Until the Jasmine met her view ; 
 And, raptured with its perfume rare, 
 The blossoms pluck'd to grace her hair; 
 Then in her glee quick turning round, 
 She trod the Wallflower to the ground, 
 Which first had gazed in wroth disdain, 
 But now lay weeping in its pain. 
 
 The vain, at modest worth who rail, 
 May learn a lesson from my tale. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 CIxc §0g ht % Stam. 
 
 A little boy, while leaning down to drink, 
 Fell in a stream, and soon began to sink. 
 A man, in passing, heard him as he cried 
 For aid, and running to the river-side, 
 Began to scold the boy with all his might 
 For getting into such a dangerous plight. 
 " Oh, save me — save me first !" the child replied, 
 "And then there will be time enough to chide." 
 
 Of men in trouble we may say the same : 
 Assist them first and gain the right to blame.
 
 128 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XCIIL 
 
 Cfo Ctua Cratallers anb t\n ©nsfor. 
 
 Two Travellers, in times of yore, 
 Pass'd near the sea one day, 
 
 And saw by chance where on the shore 
 A stranded oyster lay. 
 
 To seize it one directly ran, 
 And all his muscles strain'd ; 
 
 But past him push'd the other man, 
 And so the prize obtain'd. 
 
 " The fish is mine," the other cried : 
 " I saw it first, I'd swear." — 
 
 " Before you saw," his friend replied, 
 " I smelt it lying there." — 
 
 " Then with the smell remain content, 
 And yield the taste to me." 
 
 And thus they wrangled as they went 
 Whose should the oyster be. 
 
 But 'mid their strife at length they spied 
 
 A stranger drawing near, 
 Of aspect grave and dignified, 
 
 As of a judge severe.
 
 THE TWO TRAVELLERS AND THE OYSTER. 129 
 
 To him the quarrel they referr'd, 
 
 And stated each his claim, 
 Which patiently enough was heard, 
 
 And then the judgment came. 
 
 He took the oyster in his hand, 
 
 And open'd it with care ; 
 While both his face intently scann'd, 
 
 To read his purpose there. 
 
 Then much, I ween, to their surprise, 
 
 Ere they had seen it well, 
 He ate the fish before their eyes, 
 
 And handed each a shell. 
 
 " This judgment doth the court award," 
 
 He said with accent gay, 
 " And bids you live in good accord ; " 
 
 Then wish'd the pair good day. 
 
 By litigation a dispute 
 
 Grows oft from bad to worse : 
 The gold is swallow'd in the suit ; 
 
 You gain an empty purse. 
 
 ■'-— -*v=3^i^-s 
 
 K
 
 130 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 "King Lion," said the Fox, "you know 
 My zeal for you was never slow ; 
 I make your interests my own, 
 And check each insult to your throne : 
 So, when I hear your foes traduce 
 Your Majesty with vile abuse, 
 I never fail to tell you, Sire, 
 That they may feel your royal ire. 
 The Ass of late, in traitorous speech, 
 Has dared your virtues to impeach. 
 He says he cannot think what I 
 Can see in you to magnify. 
 He calls your courage into doubt, 
 And will not hear a word about 
 Your equity and lofty mind. 
 He says to justice you are blind ; 
 You fear the strong, but on the weak 
 Your spite for slight offences wreak." 
 The King stood silent for a while ; 
 Then answer' d, with a haughty smile : 
 " Fox, let him babble as he may, 
 I cannot heed a Donkey's bray."
 
 THE BEE AND THE TOMTIT. 131 
 
 XCV. 
 
 Cjp g** anb % tomtit 
 
 Here and there about a garden, 
 
 Planted out with flowers gay, 
 Buzz'd a Bee extracting honey 
 
 Out of all upon her way. 
 
 "Bee," exclaim'd a twittering Tomtit, 
 
 Perch'd upon the garden wall, 
 "Poison lurks in many blossoms, 
 
 Yet thou gatherest from all." — 
 
 "True," she answer'd, "I discover 
 Sweets in flowers of every kind : 
 
 Poison may be present with them • 
 But I leave that all behind." 
 
 It were well if human beings 
 Always acted like the Bee, 
 
 By retaining in their memory 
 But the good they hear or see. 
 
 -•<»*&*
 
 132 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 &fo W)oxst aittr % %$s. 
 
 "Friend," said an Ass, with whom a Horse 
 
 Was condescending to discourse, 
 
 " I find a great aflinity 
 
 Of race betwixt yourself and me. 
 
 Akin in form, I imitate 
 
 Your habits also, and your gait." — 
 
 "But still I think," replied the Steed, 
 
 " "We come of very different breed : 
 
 You copy us, but never knew 
 
 A Horse that imitated you." 
 
 A man may mimic great men's style, 
 And be a donkey all the while. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 (LJxc Uic&tmplc aiTfr % (toluro. 
 
 The Nightingale sang out one day, 
 To see how men esteem'd his lay. 
 The boys who play'd around the spot, 
 Kept playing on, and heeded not.
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE CUCKOO. 133 
 
 Meanwhile, a Cuckoo, sitting by, 
 
 Gave forth his inharmonious cry. 
 
 This drew a shout from all the boys, 
 
 Who then stood listening for the noise, 
 
 And as it came would copy after, 
 
 Or greet the sound with merry latighter. 
 
 "Hear you? — mankind receive me well," 
 Said Cuckoo then to Philomel. 
 " Your singing may be very fine ; 
 But surely it must yield to mine, 
 For unremark'd you tune your song, 
 "While I win plaudits from the throng." 
 
 The warbler ceased his thrilling lay, 
 
 And sat indignant on his spray. 
 ***** 
 
 Two lovers pass'd : unmoved they heard, 
 And noticed not the boastful bird ; 
 But when the Nightingale again 
 Began a soft melodious strain, 
 They started, stood awhile to hear, 
 Then sat down on a hillock near ; 
 And while the maiden own'd the spell 
 By rapturous tears that gently fell 
 Adown her cheeks, the youth confest 
 His sympathy with heaving breast. 
 
 The singer paused, and meekly said 
 To the vain Cuckoo overhead : 
 " Think not I envy you the loud 
 And thoughtless plaudits of the crowd :
 
 134 A CENTURY OF FABLES. 
 
 The silent tears my music draws 
 Are more to me than all applause." 
 
 The writer who can move the heart 
 Fulfils a better, nobler part, 
 Than he who merely wields his pen 
 To raise a passing laugh in men. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 
 " I've something else to ask you yet," 
 
 Said a young Eagle, who had met 
 
 A learned Owl at close of day. 
 
 " There is a bird, I've heard men say, 
 
 Call'd Merops, who is seen to rise 
 
 With tail directed to the skies,- 
 
 And head bent ever toward the ground : 
 
 Is such a creature to be found 1 " — 
 
 " No," said the sage, " man never knew 
 
 A bird that so uncouthly flew : 
 
 The only Merops is his mind, 
 
 Which tip to heaven would wing its flight. 
 
 Yet never of the earth lose sight."
 
 THE LARK IN THE CAGE. 135 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 Thus of the Rose tlie Tomb inquired : 
 
 " Of the soft dew of eventide 
 What makest thou, O flower admired V 
 
 Thus to the Tomb the Rose replied : 
 " What makest thou of those that sink 
 Down through thy ever-yawning brink ?" 
 
 And further said : " O sombre Tomb, 
 
 Sweet honey of that dew I make, 
 Here in the shadow of my bloom." — 
 
 " O Queen of Flowers" — the Tomb then spake — 
 " Of each pure soul that hither hies 
 I make an angel for the skies ! " 
 
 In the dusty, smoky city, 
 
 Hung a Lark against a wall, 
 
 Warbling out a cheerful ditty, 
 Heedless of his cage's thrall.
 
 136 A CENTURY OP FABLES. 
 
 " Lai'k ! " exclaini'd a chirping Sparrow, 
 Lighting on a window-sill, — 
 
 " Prison'd in a space so narrow, 
 Canst thou sing so blithely still % " 
 
 Said the Lark, in accents ringing : 
 " Sparrow, I would have you know 
 
 That a Lark in bondage, singing, 
 Half forgets his weary woe. 
 
 " Sang I not, too, here in prison, — 
 Were I to escape some day, 
 
 In the sky when I had risen, 
 Should I recollect my lay ? " 
 
 Soul, confined in shell external, 
 Art thou not a radiant spark 
 
 From the Spirit Light supernal, 
 Prison'd like the tuneful Lark 1 
 
 Let thy spirit -song, to cheer thee 
 
 In captivity, arise 
 Unforgot, till angels hear thee 
 
 Chant it far above the skies.
 
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