this.

BOOK XI.

I. THE LION.'

SOME time ago, a sultan Leopard,
By means of many a rich escheat,
Had many an ox in meadow sweet,
And many a stag in forest, fleet,
And (what a savage sort of shepherd!)
Full many a sheep upon the plains,
That lay within his wide domains.
Not far away, one morn,
There was a lion born.

Exchanged high compliments of state,
As is the custom with the great,

The sultan call'd his vizier Fox,
Who had a deeper knowledge-box,

And said to him, 'This lion's whelp you dread;
What can he do, his father being dead?

Our pity rather let him share,

An orphan so beset with care.
The luckiest lion ever known,

If, letting conquest quite alone,

He should have power to keep his own.'
Sir Renard said,

And shook his head,

'Such orphans, please your majesty,
Will get no pity out of me.

We ought to keep within his favour,
Or else with all our might endeavour
To thrust him out of life and throne,
Ere yet his claws and teeth are grown.

The fable of the young Leopard in the Bid paii collection resembles

There's not a moment to be lost.
His horoscope I've cast;
He'll never quarrel to his cost;
But then his friendship fast
Will be to friends of greater worth
Than any lion's e'er on earth.
Try then, my liege, to make it ours,
Or else to check his rising powers.'
The warning fell in vain.

The sultan slept; and beasts and men
Did so, throughout his whole domain,
Till lion's whelp became a lion.
Then came at once the tocsin cry on,
Alarm and fluttering consternation.
The vizier call'd to consultation,
A sigh escaped him as he said,

'Why all this mad excitement now,
When hope is fled, no matter how?
A thousand men were useless aid,-
The more, the worse,—since all their
Would be our mutton to devour.
Appease this lion; sole he doth exceed
The helpers all that on us feed.

power

And three hath he, that cost him nought-
His courage, strength, and watchful thought.
Quick send a wether for his use:

If not contented, send him more;
Yes, add an ox, and see you choose
The best our pastures ever bore.
Thus save the rest.'-But such advice
The sultan spurn'd, as cowardice.
And his, and many states beside,
Did ills, in consequence, betide.
However fought this world allied,
The beast maintain'd his power
If must let the lion grow,
you
Don't let him live to be

your

foe.

and pride.

II. THE GODS WISHING TO INSTRUCT A SON

OF JUPITER.'

FOR MONSEIGNEUR THE DUKE DU MAINE.

To Jupiter was born a son,2

Who, conscious of his origin,
A godlike spirit had within.
To love, such age is little prone;
Yet this celestial boy

Made love his chief employ,
And was beloved wherever known.
In him both love and reason
Sprang up before their season.

With charming smiles and manners winning,
Had Flora deck'd his life's beginning,
As an Olympian became :

Whatever lights the tender flame,—
A heart to take and render bliss,-
Tears, sighs, in short the whole were his.
Jove's son, he should of course inherit

A higher and a nobler spirit

Than sons of other deities.

It seem'd as if by Memory's aid—
As if a previous life had made
Experiment and hid it-

He plied the lover's hard-learn'd trade,
So perfectly he did it.

Still Jupiter would educate

In manner fitting to his state.

The gods, obedient to his call,

Assemble in their council-hall;

This title does not exist in the original editions. It appeared for the first time in the edition of 1709. The original heading to the fable is "For Monseigneur," &c.

2 To Jupiter was born a son.-Jupiter here is Louis XIV., and his son is the Duke du Maine to whom the fable is addressed. The duke was the son of Louis and Madame de Montespan. He was born at Versailles in 1670; and when La Fontaine wrote this address to him he was about eight years old, and the pupil of Madame de Maintenon, his mother's successor in the affections of the king.

When thus the sire: Companionless and sole,
Thus far the boundless universe I roll;
But numerous other offices there are,
Of which I give to younger gods the care.
I'm now forecasting for this cherish'd child,
Whose countless altars are already piled.
To merit such regard from all below,

All things the young immortal ought to know.'
No sooner had the Thund'rer ended,
Than each his godlike plan commended;
Nor did the boy too little yearn
His lesson infinite to learn.
Said fiery Mars, 'I take the part
To make him master of the art
Whereby so many heroes high
Have won the honours of the sky.'
'To teach him music be my care,'
Apollo said, the wise and fair;

And mine,' that mighty god replied,
In the Nemean lion's hide,

'To teach him to subdue

The vices, an envenom'd crew,
Like Hydras springing ever new.
The foe of weakening luxury,
The boy divine will learn from me
Those rugged paths, so little trod,
That lead to glory man and god.'
Said Cupid, when it came his turn,
'All things from me the boy may learn.'

Well spoke the god of love.
What feat of Mars, or Hercules,
Or bright Apollo, lies above
Wit, wing'd by a desire to please?

III. THE FARMER, THE DOG, AND THE FOX.

THE wolf and fox are neighbours strange :

I would not build within their range.
The fox once eyed with strict regard
From day to day, a poultry-yard;
But though a most accomplish'd cheat,
He could not get a fowl to eat.
Between the risk and appetite,

His rogueship's trouble was not slight.
'Alas!' quoth he, this stupid rabble
But mock me with their constant gabble;
I go and come, and rack my brains,
And get my labour for my pains.
Your rustic owner, safe at home,
Takes all the profits as they come :
He sells his capons and his chicks,

Or keeps them hanging on his hook,
All dress'd and ready for his cook;
But I, adept in art and tricks,
Should I but catch the toughest crower,
Should be brimful of joy, and more.
O Jove supreme! why was I made
A master of the fox's trade?
By all the higher powers, and lower,
I swear to rob this chicken-grower!'
Revolving such revenge within,

When night had still'd the various din,
And poppies seem'd to bear full sway
O'er man and dog, as lock'd they lay
Alike secure in slumber deep,
And cocks and hens were fast asleep,
Upon the populous roost he stole.

By negligence,—a common sin,—
The farmer left unclosed the hole,
And, stooping down, the fox went in.
The blood of every fowl was spill'd,
The citadel with murder fill'd.

1 Abstemius.