Then, dropping to a lower tone, They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, Till Renard whisper'd to the cat,

'You think yourself a knowing one:
How many cunning tricks have you?
For I've a hundred, old and new,
All ready in my haversack.'
The cat replied, 'I do not lack,
Though with but one provided;
And, truth to honour, for that matter,
I hold it than a thousand better.'
In fresh dispute they sided;
And loudly were they at it, when
Approach'd a mob of dogs and men.
'Now,' said the cat, your tricks ransack,
And put your cunning brains to rack,
One life to save; I'll show you mine-
A trick, you see, for saving nine.'
With that, she climb'd a lofty pine.
The fox his hundred ruses tried,
And yet no safety found.

A hundred times he falsified
The nose of every hound.-

Was here, and there, and every where,
Above, and under ground;

But yet to stop he did not dare,
Pent in a hole, it was no joke,

To meet the terriers or the smoke.

So, leaping into upper air,

He met two dogs, that choked him there.

Expedients may be too many, Consuming time to choose and try.

On one, but that as good as any, 'Tis best in danger to rely.

Shines now on story's page with
O people happy in your sturdy h
Say, when shall Peace pack up t
And send us all, like you, to softe

BOOK VIII.

I. DEATH AND THEI

DEATH never taketh by surprise
The well-prepared, to wit, the w
They knowing of themselves
To meditate the final change
That time, alas! embraces all
Which into hours and minutes

There is no part, however sma
That from this tribute one can h
The very moment, oft, which bi
The heirs of empire see the li
Is that which shuts their fringè
In everlasting night.
Defend yourself by rank and we
Plead beauty, virtue, youth, and
Unblushing Death will ravish
The world itself shall pass benes
No truth is better known; but,
No truth is oftener thrown a
A man, well in his second century
Complain'd that Death had call'd
Had left no time his plans to
To balance books, or make hi
'O Death,' said he, 'd'ye call it

1 Abstemius.

This choice so roused the fiend,
By Plato's beard she swore
The human race no more
Should be by handfuls glean'd
But in one solid mass
D'infernal gates should pass
But Jome disclused with both
The Fury and her oath,
Deutch'd her back to hell
And then a bolt he burl'd
Down on a faithless world,
Which in a desert fell
Aim by a father's arm,

sed more fear than harm.
(All fathers strike aside)
What did from this betide?
Our evil race grew bold,

Besumed their wicked tricks,
Increased them manifold,
Till all Compas through

Infignant murmurs flew
The swearing by the Styx,
The sire that rules the air

Storms promised to prepare
More terrible and dark,

Which should not miss their mark
A father's wrath it is!
The other deities

All in one voice exclaim'd;
And might the thing be named,
Some other god would make
Bolts better for our sake."

This Valean undertook

His rambling forges shook
And glow with fervent hent

Without a warning to prepar
To take a man on lifted leg?
O, wait a little while. I beg
My wife cannot be left alone:

I must set out my nephew

And let me build my house 1 της
Before you strike, relig
Old man, said Death one ting a w

My visit here's not premature
Hast thou not lived a century
Darest thou engage to find for me
In Paris' walls two older men
Has France, among her monste
Thou say'st I should have sent the wurd
Thy lamp to trim, thy lins to ge
And then my coming had been mer-
Thy will engross d
Thy house complete!
Did not thy feelings notify?
Did not they tell thee thon must de?
Thy taste and hearing are no more
Thy sight itself is gone before
For thee the sun superfinns shines,
And all the wealth of Indian mines:

Thy mates I've shown thee dead or dying
What's this, indeed, but notifying
Come on, old man, without reply
For to the great and common wel
It doth but little signify
Whether thy will shall ever feel
The impress of thy hand and seal

And Death had reason,-ghastly age!
For surely man, at such an age
Should part from life as from a feat
Returning decent thanks, at least
To Him who spread the various chee
And unrepining take his tier
For shun it long no creature can
Repinest thou, grey-headed man?
See younger mortals rushing by

and beat. sic flame

here came.

not:
t,-
large.
wide,

her's throne.

O THE CAPON.'

ductive call:
3 it not at all;-
apologue,
Nivelle's dog.

a throng ige squire, the fire.

y-Biddy!-'

1 he-
half 3.
al trust.
he, 'is dust,
chaff.'

his perch,
and search.

and the Cock." cording to the French pro-TRANSLATOR. Normans are proverbial for eless, a proverb that they aine makes his capon, who et demi-the Norman and

XV. THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE

THIEF.1

A MAN that loved,—and loved his wife,—
Still led an almost joyless life.

No tender look, nor gracious word,

Nor smile, that, coming from a bride,

Its object would have deified,

E'er told her doting lord

The love with which he burn'd
Was in its kind return'd.

Still unrepining at his lot,

This man, thus tied in Hymen's knot,
Thank'd God for all the good he got.
But why? If love doth fail to season
Whatever pleasures Hymen gives,
I'm sure I cannot see the reason
Why one for him the happier lives.
However, since his wife

Had ne'er caress'd him in her life,
He made complaint of it one night.
The entrance of a thief
Cut short his tale of grief,
gave the lady such a fright,
She shrunk from dreaded harms
Within her husband's arms.
'Good thief,' cried he,

And

'This joy so sweet, I owe to thee:
Now take, as thy reward,

Of all that owns me lord,
Whatever suits thee save my spouse;
Ay, if thou pleasest, take the house.*
As thieves are not remarkably
O'erstock'd with modesty,
This fellow made quite free.

From this account it doth appear,
The passions all are ruled by fear.

1 Bidpaii.

Aversion may be conquer'd by it,
And even love may not defy it.

But still some cases there have been

Where love hath ruled the roast, I ween.
That lover, witness, highly bred,

Who burnt his house above his head,
And all to clasp a certain dame,

And bear her harmless through the flame.
This transport through the fire,

I own, I much admire;

And for a Spanish soul, reputed coolish,
I think it grander even than 'twas foolish.'

XVI. THE TREASURE AND THE TWO MEN.?

A MAN whose credit fail'd, and what was worse,
Who lodged the devil in his purse,—

That is to say, lodged nothing there,-
By self-suspension in the air

Concluded his accounts to square,
Since, should he not, he understood,
From various tokens, famine would-
A death for which no mortal wight
Had ever any appetite.

A ruin, crown'd with ivy green,
Was of his tragedy the scene.
His hangman's noose he duly tied,
And then to drive a nail he tried ;-
But by his blows the wall gave way,
Now tremulous and old,
Disclosing to the light of day

A sum of hidden gold.

He clutch'd it up, and left Despair

1 'Twas foolish.-La Fontaine here refers to the adventure of the Spanish Count Villa Medina with Elizabeth of France, wife of Philip IV. of Spain. The former, having invited the Spanish court to a splendid entertainment in his palace, had it set on fire, that he might personally rescue the said lady from its flames.-TRANSLATOR.

2 The story of this fable has been traced to the Epigrams of Ausonius who was born at Bordeaux, and lived in the fourth century.