By prayers, and tears, and magic art,
The man got Fate to take his part;
And, lo! one morning at his side
His cat, transform'd, became his bride.
In wedded state our man was seen
The fool in courtship he had been.
No lover e'er was so bewitch'd
By any maiden's charms
As was this husband, so enrich'd
By hers within his arms.
He praised her beauties, this and that,
And saw there nothing of the cat.
In short, by passion's aid, he
Thought her a perfect lady.
'Twas night: some carpet-gnawing mice
Disturb'd the nuptial joys.
Excited by the noise,
The bride sprang at them in a trice;
The mice were scared and fled.
The bride, scarce in her bed,
The gnawing heard, and sprang again,-
And this time not in vain,
For, in this novel form array'd,
Of her the mice were less afraid.
Through life she loved this mousing course,
So great is stubborn nature's force.
In mockery of change, the old
Will keep their youthful bent.
When once the cloth has got its fold,
The smelling-pot its scent,
In vain your efforts and your care
To make them other than they are.
To work reform, do what you will,
Old habit will be habit still.
Nor fork' nor strap can mend its manners,
Nor cudgel-blows beat down its banners.
Secure the doors against the renter,
And through the windows it will enter.
Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.-Hor. Epist. Bk. I. 10. TRANSLATOR.
XIX.—THE LION AND THE ASS HUNTING.'
THE king of animals, with royal grace,
Would celebrate his birthday in the chase.
'Twas not with bow and arrows,
To slay some wretched sparrows;
The lion hunts the wild boar of the wood,
The antlered deer and stags, the fat and good.
This time, the king, t' insure success,
Took for his aide-de-camp an ass,
A creature of stentorian voice,
That felt much honour'd by the choice.
The lion hid him in a proper station,
And order'd him to bray, for his vocation,
Assured that his tempestuous cry
The boldest beasts would terrify,
And cause them from their lairs to fly.
And, sooth, the horrid noise the creature made
Did strike the tenants of the wood with dread;
And, as they headlong fled,
All fell within the lion's ambuscade.
'Has not my service glorious
Made both of us victorious?'
Cried out the much-elated ass.
'Yes,' said the lion; 'bravely bray'd!
Had I not known yourself and race,
I should have been myself afraid!'
If he had dared, the donkey
Had shown himself right spunky
At this retort, though justly made;
For who could suffer boasts to pass
So ill-befitting to an ass?
1 Phædrus, I. 11: Æsop.
XX. THE WILL EXPLAINED BY ESOP.1
IF what old story says of Æsop's true,
The oracle of Greece he was,
And more than Areopagus2 he knew,
With all its wisdom in the laws.
The following tale gives but a sample
Of what has made his fame so ample.
Three daughters shared a father's purse,
Of habits totally diverse.
The first, bewitched with drinks delicious;
The next, coquettish and capricious;
The third, supremely avaricious.
The sire, expectant of his fate,
Bequeathed his whole estate,
In equal shares, to them,
And to their mother just the same,—
To her then payable, and not before,
Each daughter should possess her part no more.
The father died. The females three
Were much in haste the will to see.
They read, and read, but still
Saw not the willer's will.
For could it well be understood
That each of this sweet sisterhood,
When she possess'd her part no more,
Should to her mother pay it o'er ?
"Twas surely not so easy saying
How lack of means would help the paying.
What meant their honour'd father, then?
Th' affair was brought to legal men,
Who, after turning o'er the case
Some hundred thousand different ways,
Threw down the learned bonnet,
Unable to decide upon it ;
Areopagus.-The Athenian Court of Justice, said to have been called Areiopagos (the Hill of Ares) because, according to tradition, the first trial there was that of Ares for the murder of Halirrhotius.
And then advised the heirs,
Without more thought, t' adjust affairs.
As to the widow's share, the counsel say,
'We hold it just the daughters each should pay
One third to her upon demand,
Should she not choose to have it stand
Commuted as a life annuity,
Paid from her husband's death, with due congruity.'
The thing thus order'd, the estate
Is duly cut in portions three.
And in the first they all agree
To put the feasting-lodges, plate,
Luxurious cooling mugs,
Rich cupboards,-built beneath the trellised vine,-
The stores of ancient, sweet Malvoisian wine,
The slaves to serve it at a sign;
In short, whatever, in a great house,
There is of feasting apparatus.
The second part is made
Of what might help the jilting trade-
The city house and furniture,
Exquisite and genteel, be sure,
The eunuchs, milliners, and laces,
The jewels, shawls, and costly dresses.
The third is made of household stuff,
More vulgar, rude, and rough-
Farms, fences, flocks, and fodder,
And men and beasts to turn the sod o'er.
This done, since it was thought
To give the parts by lot
Might suit, or it might not,
Each paid her share of fees dear,
And took the part that pleased her.
'Twas in great Athens town,
Such judgment gave the gown.
And there the public voice
Applauded both the judgment and the choice.
But Esop well was satisfied
The learned men had set aside,
In judging thus the testament,
The very gist of its intent.
'The dead,' quoth he, 'could he but know of it,
Would heap reproaches on such Attic wit.
What! men who proudly take their place
As sages of the human race,
Lack they the simple skill
To settle such a will?'
This said, he undertook himself
The task of portioning the pelf;
And straightway gave each maid the part
The least according to her heart—
The prim coquette, the drinking stuff,
The drinker, then, the farms and cattle;
And on the miser, rude and rough,
The robes and lace did Æsop settle;
For thus, he said, 'an early date
Would see the sisters alienate
Their several shares of the estate.
No motive now in maidenhood to tarry,
They all would seek, post haste, to marry;
And, having each a splendid bait,
Each soon would find a well-bred mate; And, leaving thus their father's goods intact, Would to their mother pay them all, in fact,' Which of the testament
Was plainly the intent.
The people, who had thought a slave an ass,
Much wonder'd how it came to pass
That one alone should have more sense
Than all their men of most pretence.
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