AN ADDRESS TO THE DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULD.2
WHILE watching man in all his phases,
And seeing that, in many cases,
He acts just like the brute creation,—
I've thought the lord of all these races
Of no less failings show'd the traces
Than do his lieges in relation;
And that, in making it, Dame Nature
Hath put a spice in every creature
From off the self-same spirit-stuff-
Not from the immaterial,
But what we call ethereal,
Refined from matter rough.
An illustration please to hear.
Just on the still frontier
Of either day or night,—
Or when the lord of light
Reclines his radiant head
Upon his watery bed,
Or when he dons the gear,
To drive a new career,-
While yet with doubtful sway
The hour is ruled 'twixt night and day,—
Some border forest-tree I climb;
And, acting Jove, from height sublime
My fatal bolt at will directing,
I kill some rabbit unsuspecting.
The rest that frolick'd on the heath,
Or browsed the thyme with dainty teeth,
With open eye and watchful ear,
Behold, all scampering from beneath,
Instinct with mortal fear.
All, frighten'd simply by the sound,
Hie to their city underground.
This fable in the original editions has no other title save-"An Address," &c. Later editors titled it "Les Lapins."
2 Rochefoucauld.-See Fable XI., Book I., also dedicated to the duke. and the note thereto.
But soon the danger is forgot,
And just as soon the fear lives not:
The rabbits, gayer than before,
I see beneath my hand once more!
Are not mankind well pictured here?
By storms asunder driven,
They scarcely reach their haven,
And cast their anchor, ere
They tempt the same dread shocks
Of tempests, waves, and rocks.
True rabbits, back they frisk
To meet the self-same risk!
I add another common case.
When dogs pass through a place
Beyond their customary bounds,
And meet with others, curs or hounds,
Imagine what a holiday!
The native dogs, whose interests centre
In one great organ, term'd the venter,
The strangers rush at, bite, and bay;
With cynic pertness tease and worry,
And chase them off their territory.
So, too, do men. Wealth, grandeur, glory,
To men of office or profession,
Of every sort, in every nation,
As tempting are, and sweet,
As is to dogs the refuse meat.
With us, it is a general fact,
One sees the latest-come attack'd,
And plunder'd to the skin.
Coquettes and authors we may view,
As samples of the sin;
For woe to belle or writer new !
The fewer eaters round the cake,
The fewer players for the stake,
The surer each one's self to take.
A hundred facts my truth might test;
But shortest works are always best.
In this I but pursue the chart
Laid down by masters of the art;
And, on the best of themes, I hold,
The truth should never all be told.
Hence, here my sermon ought to close.
O thou, to whom my fable owes
Whate'er it has of solid worth,—
Who, great by modesty as well as birth,
Hast ever counted praise a pain,—
Whose leave I could so ill obtain
That here your name, receiving homage,
Should save from every sort of damage
My slender works-which name, well known
To nations, and to ancient Time,
All France delights to own;
Herself more rich in names sublime
Than any other earthly clime ;-
Permit me here the world to teach
That you have given my simple rhyme
The text from which it dares to preach.
XVI. THE MERCHANT, THE NOBLE, THE
SHEPHERD, AND THE KING'S SON.1
FOUR voyagers to parts unknown,
On shore, not far from naked, thrown
By furious waves, -a merchant, now undone,
A noble, shepherd, and a monarch's son,-
Brought to the lot of Belisarius,2
Their wants supplied on alms precarious.
To tell what fates, and winds, and weather,
Had brought these mortals all together,
2 Belisarius.-Belisarius was a great general, who, having commanded the armies of the emperor, and lost the favour of his master, fell to such a point of destitution that he asked alms upon the highways.-LA FONTAINE. The touching story of the fall of Belisarius, of which painters and poets have made so much, is entirely false, as may be seen by consulting Gibbon's "Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," chap. xliii.— TRANSLATOR.
Though from far distant points abscinded,
Would make my tale long-winded.
Suffice to say, that, by a fountain met,
In council grave these outcasts held debate.
The prince enlarged, in an oration set,
Upon the mis'ries that befall the great.
The shepherd deem'd it best to cast
Off thought of all misfortune past,
And each to do the best he could,
In efforts for the common weal.
'Did ever a repining mood,'
He added, a misfortune heal?
Toil, friends, will take us back to Rome,
Or make us here as good a home.'
A shepherd so to speak! a shepherd? What!
As though crown'd heads were not,
By Heaven's appointment fit,
The sole receptacles of wit!
As though a shepherd could be deeper, In thought or knowledge, than his sheep are! The three, howe'er, at once approved his plan, Wreck'd as they were on shores American. 'I'll teach arithmetic,' the merchant said,— Its rules, of course, well seated in his head,For monthly pay.' The prince replied, ' And I Will teach political economy.'
And I,' the noble said, 'in heraldry
Well versed, will open for that branch a school-'
As if, beyond a thousand leagues of sea,
That senseless jargon could befool!
'My friends, you talk like men,'
The shepherd cried, but then
The month has thirty days; till they are spent,
Are we upon your faith to keep full Lent?
The hope you give is truly good;
But, ere it comes, we starve for food!
Pray tell me, if you can divine,
On what, to-morrow, we shall dine;
Or tell me, rather, whence we may
Obtain a supper for to-day.
This point, if truth should be confess'd,
Is first, and vital to the rest. Your science short in this respect, My hands shall cover the defect.—' This said, the nearest woods he sought, And thence for market fagots brought, Whose price that day, and eke the next, Relieved the company perplex'd— Forbidding that, by fasting, they should go To use their talents in the world below.
We learn from this adventure's course, There needs but little skill to get a living. Thanks to the gifts of Nature's giving,
Our hands are much the readiest resource.
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