THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE.

TO MONSEIGNEUR THE DAUPHIN.1

I SING the heroes of old Æsop's line,

Whose tale, though false when strictly we define,
Containeth truths it were not ill to teach.
With me all natures use the gift of speech;
Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach,
And to our human selves their sermons suit.
'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute.

SON OF A PRINCE the favourite of the skies,
On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes,
Who hence shall count his conquests by his days,
And gather from the proudest lips his praise,
A louder voice than mine must tell in song
What virtues to thy kingly line belong.
I seek thine ear to gain by lighter themes,
Slight pictures, deck'd in magic nature's beams;
And if to please thee shall not be my pride,
I'll gain at least the praise of having tried.

1 This dedication prefaced La Fontaine's first collection of his Fables, which comprised Books I. to VI., published in 1668. The Dauphin was Louis, the only son of Louis XIV. and Marie-Thérèse of Austria. He was born at Fontainebleau in 1661, and died at Meudon in 1712, before his father, the "Grand Monarque," had ceased to reign. The Dauphin being but a child, between six and seven years old, at the time of this dedication, La Fontaine's act may be viewed rather as an offering to the King, than to the child himself. See the Translator's Preface.

BOOK I.

I.—THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE ANT.1

A GRASSHOPPER gay
Sang the summer away,
And found herself poor
By the winter's first roar.
Of meat or of bread,
Not a morsel she had!
So a begging she went,
To her neighbour the ant,

For the loan of some wheat,
Which would serve her to eat,
Till the season came round.
'I will pay you,' she saith,
‘On an animal's faith,
Double weight in the pound
Ere the harvest be bound.'

The ant is a friend

(And here she might mend)
Little given to lend.

?

'How spent you the summer
Quoth she, looking shame
At the borrowing dame.
"Night and day to each comer
I sang, if you please.'
'You sang! I'm at ease;
For 'tis plain at a glance,

Now, ma'am, you must dance.'

For the story of this fable, as for the stories of so many of the fables which follow, especially in the first six books, La Fontaine is indebted to the Father of Fable, Æsop the Phrygian. See account of Æsop in the Translator's Preface.

II. THE RAVEN AND THE FOX.'

PERCH'D on a lofty oak,

Sir Raven held a lunch of cheese;
Sir Fox, who smelt it in the breeze,
Thus to the holder spoke :-
'Ha! how do you do, Sir Raven ?
Well, your coat, sir, is a brave one!
So black and glossy, on my word, sir,
With voice to match, you were a bird, sir,
Well fit to be the Phoenix of these days.'
Sir Raven, overset with praise,

Must show how musical his croak.
Down fell the luncheon from the oak;
Which snatching up, Sir Fox thus spoke :-
'The flatterer, my good sir,
Aye liveth on his listener;
Which lesson, if you please,
Is doubtless worth the cheese.'
A bit too late, Sir Raven swore
The

rogue should never cheat him more.

III.—THE FROG THAT WISHED TO BE AS

BIG AS THE OX.2

THE tenant of a bog,

An envious little frog,

Not bigger than an egg,

A stately bullock spies,
And, smitten with his size,
Attempts to be as big.

1 Both Æsop and Phædrus have a version of this fable.

2 The story of this fable is given in Horace, Satires, II. 3, Phædrus and Corrozet have also versions of it. For an account of Phædrus and his Fables see the Translator's Preface. Gilles Corrozet was one of the French fabulists immediately preceding La Fontaine. He was a Parisian bookseller-author who lived between 1516 and 1568.

With earnestness and pains,
She stretches, swells, and strains,

And

says, 'Sis Frog, look here! see me!
Is this enough?' 'No, no.'

'Well, then, is this?' 'Poh! poh!
Enough! you don't begin to be.'
And thus the reptile sits,
Enlarging till she splits.
The world is full of folks

Of just such wisdom;—
The lordly dome provokes

The cit to build his dome;
And, really, there is no telling
How much great men set little ones a swelling.

IV. THE TWO MULES.

Two mules were bearing on their backs,
One, oats; the other, silver of the tax.1
The latter glorying in his load,

March'd proudly forward on the road;
And, from the jingle of his bell,
'Twas plain he liked his burden well.
But in a wild-wood glen

A band of robber men
Rush'd forth upon the twain.
Well with the silver pleased,

They by the bridle seized

The treasure-mule so vain.

Poor mule in struggling to repel
His ruthless foes, he fell

Stabb'd through; and with a bitter sighing,
He cried, 'Is this the lot they promised me?
My humble friend from danger free,

While, weltering in my gore, I'm dying?'

The silver of the tax.-An allusion to the French gabelle, or old salt tax, which, like all taxes levied upon the mass of the people, was a very productive one. Its collection caused several peasants' insurrections.

'My friend,' his fellow-mule replied,
'It is not well to have one's work too high.
If thou hadst been a miller's drudge, as I,
Thou wouldst not thus have died.'

V. THE WOLF AND THE DOG.'
A PROWLING Wolf, whose shaggy skin
(So strict the watch of dogs had been)
Hid little but his bones,

Once met a mastiff dog astray.
A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray,
No human mortal owns.
Sir Wolf in famish'd plight,

Would fain have made a ration
Upon his fat relation;

But then he first must fight;

And well the dog seem'd able
To save from wolfish table

His carcass snug and tight.

So, then, in civil conversation
The wolf express'd his admiration
Of Tray's fine case. Said Tray, politely,
Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly;
Quit but the woods, advised by me.
For all your fellows here, I see,
Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt,
Belike to die of haggard want.

With such a pack, of course it follows,
One fights for every bit he swallows.
Come, then, with me, and share
On equal terms our princely fare.'

'But what with

Has one to do?"

Inquires the wolf.

you

Light work indeed,'

Replies the dog; 'you only need

1 Phædrus, III. 7.—The references to the Fables of Phædrus are to Bohn's edition, which is from the critical edition of Orellius, 1831.