A ship, that had such things on deck,
Not far from Athens, went to wreck.
But for the dolphins, all had drown'd.
They are a philanthropic fish,
Which fact in Pliny may be found ;-
A better voucher who could wish?
They did their best on this occasion.
A monkey even, on their plan
Well nigh attain'd his own salvation;
A dolphin took him for a man,
And on his dorsal gave him place.
So grave the silly creature's face,
That one might well have set him down
That old musician of renown.'
The fish had almost reach'd the land,
When, as it happen'd,-what a pity!—
He ask'd, 'Are you from Athens grand ?'
'Yes; well they know me in that city.
If ever you have business there,
I'll help you do it, for my kin
The highest offices are in.
My cousin, sir, is now lord mayor.'
The dolphin thank'd him, with good grace,
Both for himself and all his race,
And ask'd, 'You doubtless know Piræus,
Where, should we come to town, you'll see us.'
'Piræus ? yes, indeed I know;
He was my crony long ago.'
The dunce knew not the harbour's name,
And for a man's mistook the same.
The people are by no means few,
Who never went ten miles from home,
Nor know their market-town from Rome,
According to Herodotus, I. 24 (Bohn's ed., p. 9), Arion, the son of Cyclon of Methymna, and famous lyric poet and musician, having won riches at a musical contest in Sicily, was voyaging home, when the sailors of his ship determined to murder him for his treasure. He asked to be allowed to play a tune; and as soon as he had finished he threw himself into the sea. It was then found that the music had attracted a number of dolphins round the ship, and one of these took the bard on its back and conveyed him safely to Tænarus.
Yet cackle just as if they knew.
The dolphin laugh'd, and then began
His rider's form and face to scan,
And found himself about to save
From fishy feasts, beneath the wave,
A mere resemblance of a man.
So, plunging down, he turn'd to find
Some drowning wight of human kind.
VIII. THE MAN AND THE WOODEN GOD.'
A PAGAN kept a god of wood,
A sort that never hears,
Though furnish'd well with ears,—
From which he hoped for wondrous good.
The idol cost the board of three;
So much enrich'd was he
With vows and offerings vain,
With bullocks garlanded and slain :
No idol ever had, as that,
A kitchen quite so full and fat.
But all this worship at his shrine
Brought not from this same block divine
Inheritance, or hidden mine,
Or luck at play, or any favour.
Nay, more, if any storm whatever
Brew'd trouble here or there,
The man was sure to have his share,
And suffer in his purse,
Although the god fared none the worse.
At last, by sheer impatience bold,
The man a crowbar seizes,
His idol breaks in pieces,
And finds it richly stuff'd with gold.
'How's this? Have I devoutly treated,'
Says he, 'your godship, to be cheated?
Now leave my house, and go your way,
And search for altars where you may.
You're like those natures, dull and gross,
From which comes nothing but by blows;
The more I gave, the less I got;
I'll now be rich, and you may rot.'
IX. THE JAY IN THE FEATHERS OF THE
PEACOCK.'
A PEACOCK moulted: soon a jay was seen
Bedeck'd with Argus tail of gold and green,2
High strutting, with elated crest,
As much a peacock as the rest.
His trick was recognized and bruited,
His person jeer'd at, hiss'd, and hooted.
The peacock gentry flock'd together,
And pluck'd the fool of every feather.
Nay more, when back he sneak'd to join his race,
They shut their portals in his face.
There is another sort of jay,
The number of its legs the same,
Which makes of borrow'd plumes display,
And plagiary is its name.
But hush! the tribe I'll not offend;
'Tis not my work their ways to mend.
X.-THE CAMEL AND THE FLOATING STICKS.3
THE first who saw the humpback'd camel
Fled off for life; the next approach'd with care;
The third with tyrant rope did boldly dare
The desert wanderer to trammel.
2 Argus tail of gold and green.—According to mythology, Argus, surnamed Panoptes (or all-seeing), possessed a hundred eyes, some of which were never closed in sleep. At his death Juno either transformed him into the peacock, or transferred his hundred eyes to the tail of that, her favourite, bird. 'Argus tail of gold and green," therefore, means tail endowed with the eyes of Argus. 3 Æsop.
Such is the power of use to change
The face of objects new and strange;
Which grow, by looking at, so tame,
They do not even seem the same.
And since this theme is up for our attention,
A certain watchman I will mention,
Who, seeing something far
Away upon the ocean,
Could not but speak his notion
That 'twas a ship of war.
Some minutes more had past,—
A bomb-ketch 'twas without a sail,
And then a boat, and then a bale,
And floating sticks of wood at last!
Full many things on earth, I wot,
Will claim this tale,-and well they may;
They're something dreadful far away,
But near at hand-they're not.
XI. THE FROG AND THE RAT.1
THEY to bamboozle are inclined,
Saith Merlin, who bamboozled are.
The word, though rather unrefined,
Has yet an energy we ill can spare;
So by its aid I introduce my tale.
A well-fed rat, rotund and hale,
Not knowing either Fast or Lent,
Disporting round a frog-pond went.
A frog approach'd, and, with a friendly greeting,
Invited him to see her at her home,
And pledged a dinner worth his eating,-
To which the rat was nothing loath to come.
Of words persuasive there was little need :
She spoke, however, of a grateful bath;
Of sports and curious wonders on their path;
2 Merlin.-This is Merlin, the wizard of the old French novels.
Of rarities of flower, and rush, and reed:
One day he would recount with glee
To his assembled progeny
The various beauties of these places,
The customs of the various races,
And laws that sway the realms aquatic,
(She did not mean the hydrostatic !)
One thing alone the rat perplex'd,-
He was but moderate as a swimmer.
The frog this matter nicely fix'd
By kindly lending him her
Long paw, which with a rush she tied
To his; and off they started, side by side.
Arrived upon the lakelet's brink,
There was but little time to think.
The frog leap'd in, and almost brought her
Bound guest to land beneath the water.
Perfidious breach of law and right!
She meant to have a supper warm
Out of his sleek and dainty form.
Already did her appetite
Dwell on the morsel with delight.
The gods, in anguish, he invokes ;
His faithless hostess rudely mocks;
He struggles up, she struggles down.
A kite, that hovers in the air,
Inspecting everything with care,
Now spies the rat belike to drown,
And, with a rapid wing,
Upbears the wretched thing,
The frog, too, dangling by the string!
The joy of such a double haul
Was to the hungry kite not small.
It gave him all that he could wish-
A double meal of flesh and fish.
The best contrived deceit
Can hurt its own contriver,
And perfidy doth often cheat
Its author's purse of every stiver.
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