To make the whole a sacrifice
To Neptune on his throne unstable.

I could not well award the prize

Between the monkey's and the miser's pleasure
Derived from that devoted treasure.

With some, Don Bertrand, would the honour gain,
For reasons it were tedious to explain.
One day, then, left alone,
That animal, to mischief prone,
Coin after coin detach'd,
A gold jacobus snatch'd,
Or Portuguese doubloon,
Or silver ducatoon,

Or noble, of the English rose,
And flung with all his might
Those discs, which oft excite
The strongest wishes mortal ever knows.
Had he not heard, at last,
The turning of his master's key,
The money all had pass'd

The same short road to sea;

And not a single coin but had been pitch'd
Into the gulf by many a wreck enrich'd.

Now, God preserve full many a financier
Whose use of wealth may find its likeness here!

IV. THE TWO GOATS.'

SINCE goats have browsed, by freedom fired,
To follow fortune they've aspired.

To pasturage they're wont to roam
Where men are least disposed to come.
If any pathless place there be,

1 This and several others of the fables in the XIIth Book are taken from the "Thèmes" of the Duke de Bourgogne, afterwards published in Robert's "Fables Inédites." These " Thèmes," were the joint composition of Fénélon, his pupil the infant Duke de Bourgogne, and La Fontaine, and were first used in the education of the Duke. Fénélon suggested the story, the pupil put it into prose, and La Fontaine versified it. La Fontaine is eulogistic of the young Duke's "wit " in putting these "Thèmes" into prose in Fable IX., Book XII.

Or cliff, or pendent precipice,
'Tis there they cut their capers free:
There's nought can stop these dames, I wis.
Two goats, thus self-emancipated,-
The white that on their feet they wore
Look'd back to noble blood of yore,-

Once quit the lowly meadows, sated,
And sought the hills, as it would seem:
In search of luck, by luck they met
Each other at a mountain stream.

As bridge a narrow plank was set,
On which, if truth must be confest,
Two weasels scarce could go abreast.
And then the torrent, foaming white,
As down it tumbled from the height,
Might well those Amazons affright.
But maugre such a fearful rapid,
Both took the bridge, the goats intrepid!
I seem to see our Louis Grand1
And Philip IV. advance

To the Isle of Conference,2

That lies 'twixt Spain and France,
Each sturdy for his glorious land.
Thus each of our adventurers goes,
Till foot to foot, and nose to nose,
Somewhere about the midst they meet,
And neither will an inch retreat.
For why? they both enjoy'd the glory
Of ancestors in ancient story.

The one, a goat of peerless rank,
Which, browsing on Sicilian bank,
The Cyclop gave to Galatæa;
The other famous Amalthæa,*

3

1 Louis Grand.-Louis XIV. See note to Epilogue of Book XI. 2 The Isle of Conference.-The Pheasants' Isle in the river Bidassoa, which separates France and Spain. It is called the Isle of Conference on account of several of the Conferences, leading to Treaties, &c., between the two countries, having been held there.

3 The Cyclop gave to Galataa.-Polyphemus and Galatæa: vide Theocritus, Idyl XI.

4 Amalthea.-Another story is that Amalthea was not a goat, but a nymph of Crete, who fed the infant Jupiter with goat's milk.

The goat that suckled Jupiter,
As some historians aver.

For want of giving back, in troth,
A common fall involved them both.-
A common accident, no doubt,
On Fortune's changeful route.1

V. THE OLD CAT AND THE YOUNG MOUSE.

TO MONSEIGNEUR THE DUKE DE BOURGOGNE; WHO HAD REQUESTED
OF M. DE LA FONTAINE A FABLE WHICH SHOULD BE
CALLED THE CAT AND THE MOUSE."

To please a youthful prince, whom Fame
A temple in my writings vows,
What fable answers to the name,
"The Cat and Mouse?"

Shall I in verse the fair present,

With softest look but hard intent,

Who serves the hearts her charms entice
As does the cat its captive mice?

Or make my subject Fortune's sport?
She treats the friends that make her court,
And follow closest her advice,

As treats the cat the silly mice.

Shall I for theme a king select
Who sole, of all her favourites,
Commands the goddess's respect ?
For whom she from her wheel alights.
Who, never stay'd by foes a trice,
Whene'er they block his way,

1 In the original the last lines differ from those in the version of La Fontaine's "Euvres Posthumes," published in 1696, the year after the poet's death. Indeed, variations of text are common to most of the fables of the XIIth Book, on making the same comparison, viz., of the first edition, 1694, and the edition in the "Euvres Posthumes."

Can with the strongest play As doth the cat with mice! Insensibly, while casting thus about, Quite anxious for my subject's sake, A theme I meet, and, if I don't mistake, Shall spoil it, too, by spinning out. The prince will treat my muse, for that, As mice are treated by the cat.

A YOUNG and inexperienced mouse
Had faith to try a veteran cat,1-
Raminagrobis, death to rat,

And scourge of vermin through the house,—
Appealing to his clemency

With reasons sound and fair. 'Pray let me live; a mouse like me It were not much to spare.

Am I, in such a family,

A burden? Would my largest wish
Our wealthy host impoverish?

A grain of wheat will make my meal;
A nut will fat me like a seal.

I'm lean at present; please to wait,
And for your heirs reserve my fate.'
The captive mouse thus spake.
Replied the captor, 'You mistake;
To me shall such a thing be said?
Address the deaf! address the dead!
A cat to pardon !—old one too!
Why, such a thing I never knew.
Thou victim of my paw,
By well-establish'd law,
Die as a mousling should,
And beg the sisterhood

Who ply the thread and shears,
To lend thy speech their ears.
Some other like repast
My heirs may find, or fast.'

The story is from Abstemius.

He ceased. The moral's plain.

Youth always hopes its ends to gain,
Believes all spirits like its own:

Old

age

is not to mercy prone.

VI. THE SICK STAG.1

A STAG, where stags abounded,
Fell sick, and was surrounded
Forthwith by comrades kind,
All pressing to assist,

Or see, their friend, at least,
And ease his anxious mind-
An irksome multitude.

'Ah, sirs!' the sick was fain to cry,
'Pray leave me here to die,

As others do, in solitude.

Pray, let your kind attentions cease,
Till death my spirit shall release.'
But comforters are not so sent:
On duty sad full long intent,
When Heaven pleased, they went:
But not without a friendly glass;
That is to say, they cropp'd the grass
And leaves which in that quarter grew,
From which the sick his pittance drew.
By kindness thus compell'd to fast,
He died for want of food at last.
The men take off no trifling dole
Who heal the body, or the soul.
Alas the times! do what we will,
They have their payment, cure or kill.

1 "The Gazelle" in Lokman's Fables.