Part 7

A countryman, as Æsop certifies, A charitable man, but not so wise, One day in winter found, Stretch'd on the snowy ground, A chill'd or frozen snake, As torpid as a stake, And, if alive, devoid of sense. He took him up, and bore him home, And, thinking not what recompense For such a charity would come, Before the fire stretch'd him, And back to being fetch'd him. The snake scarce felt the genial heat Before his heart with native malice beat. He raised his head, thrust out his forkèd tongue, Coil'd up, and at his benefactor sprung. "Ungrateful wretch!" said he, "is this the way My care and kindness you repay? Now you shall die." With that his axe he takes, And with two blows three serpents makes. Trunk, head, and tail were separate snakes; And, leaping up with all their might, They vainly sought to reunite.

'Tis good and lovely to be kind; But charity should not be blind; For as to wretchedness ingrate, You cannot raise it from its wretched state.

The Carter in the Mire.

The Phaëton who drove a load of hay Once found his cart bemired. Poor man! the spot was far away From human help--retired, In some rude country place, In Brittany, as near as I can trace, Near Quimper Corentan,-- A town that poet never sang,-- Which Fate, they say, puts in the traveller's path, When she would rouse the man to special wrath. May Heaven preserve us from that route! But to our carter, hale and stout:-- Fast stuck his cart; he swore his worst, And, fill'd with rage extreme, The mud-holes now he cursed, And now he cursed his team, And now his cart and load,-- Anon, the like upon himself bestow'd. Upon the god he call'd at length, Most famous through the world for strength. "O, help me, Hercules!" cried he; "for if thy back of yore This burly planet bore, thy arm can set me free." This prayer gone up, from out a cloud there broke A voice which thus in godlike accents spoke:-- "The suppliant must himself bestir, Ere Hercules will aid confer. Look wisely in the proper quarter, To see what hindrance can be found; Remove the execrable mud and mortar, Which, axle-deep, beset thy wheels around. Thy sledge and crowbar take, And pry me up that stone, or break; Now fill that rut upon the other side. Hast done it?" "Yes," the man replied. "Well," said the voice, "I'll aid thee now; Take up thy whip." "I have ... but, how? My cart glides on with ease! I thank thee, Hercules." "Thy team," rejoin'd the voice, "has light ado; So help thyself, and Heaven will help thee too."

The Heron.

One day,--no matter when or where,-- A long-legg'd heron chanced to fare By a certain river's brink, With his long, sharp beak Helved on his slender neck; 'Twas a fish-spear, you might think. The water was clear and still, The carp and the pike there at will Pursued their silent fun, Turning up, ever and anon, A golden side to the sun. With ease might the heron have made Great profits in his fishing trade. So near came the scaly fry, They might be caught by the passer-by. But he thought he better might Wait for a better appetite-- For he lived by rule, and could not eat, Except at his hours, the best of meat. Anon his appetite return'd once more; So, approaching again the shore, He saw some tench taking their leaps, Now and then, from their lowest deeps. With as dainty a taste as Horace's rat, He turn'd away from such food as that. "What, tench for a heron! poh! I scorn the thought, and let them go." The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; "For all that," said the bird, "I budge on. I'll ne'er open my beak, if the gods please, For such mean little fishes as these." He did it for less; | For it came to pass, That not another fish could he see; And, at last, so hungry was he, That he thought it of some avail To find on the bank a single snail.

Such is the sure result Of being too difficult.

Would you be strong and great Learn to accommodate.

The Head and the Tail of the Serpent.

Two parts the serpent has-- Of men the enemies-- The head and tail: the same Have won a mighty fame, Next to the cruel Fates;-- So that, indeed, hence They once had great debates About precedence. The first had always gone ahead; The tail had been for ever led; And now to Heaven it pray'd, And said, "O, many and many a league, Dragg'd on in sore fatigue, Behind his back I go. Shall he for ever use me so? Am I his humble servant? No. Thanks to God most fervent! His brother I was born, And not his slave forlorn. The self-same blood in both, I'm just as good as he: A poison dwells in me As virulent as doth In him. In mercy, heed, And grant me this decree, That I, in turn, may lead-- My brother, follow me. My course shall be so wise, That no complaint shall rise." With cruel kindness Heaven granted The very thing he blindly wanted: At once this novel guide, That saw no more in broad daylight Than in the murk of darkest night, His powers of leading tried, Struck trees, and men, and stones, and bricks, And led his brother straight to Styx. And to the same unlovely home, Some states by such an error come.

The Dog And His Master's Dinner.

Our eyes are not made proof against the fair, Nor hands against the touch of gold. Fidelity is sadly rare, And has been from the days of old. Well taught his appetite to check, And do full many a handy trick, A dog was trotting, light and quick, His master's dinner on his neck. A temperate, self-denying dog was he, More than, with such a load, he liked to be. But still he was, while many such as we Would not have scrupled to make free. Strange that to dogs a virtue you may teach, Which, do your best, to men you vainly preach! This dog of ours, thus richly fitted out, A mastiff met, who wish'd the meat, no doubt. To get it was less easy than he thought: The porter laid it down and fought. Meantime some other dogs arrive: Such dogs are always thick enough, And, fearing neither kick nor cuff, Upon the public thrive. Our hero, thus o'ermatch'd and press'd,-- The meat in danger manifest,-- Is fain to share it with the rest; And, looking very calm and wise, "No anger, gentlemen," he cries: "My morsel will myself suffice; The rest shall be your welcome prize." With this, the first his charge to violate, He snaps a mouthful from his freight. Then follow mastiff, cur, and pup, Till all is cleanly eaten up. Not sparingly the party feasted, And not a dog of all but tasted.

In some such manner men abuse Of towns and states the revenues. The sheriffs, aldermen, and mayor, Come in for each a liberal share.

The Joker and the Fishes.

A joker at a banker's table, Most amply spread to satisfy The height of epicurean wishes, Had nothing near but little fishes. So, taking several of the fry, He whisper'd to them very nigh, And seem'd to listen for reply. The guests much wonder'd what it meant, And stared upon him all intent. The joker, then, with sober face, Politely thus explain'd the case: "A friend of mine, to India bound, Has been, I fear, Within a year, By rocks or tempests wreck'd and drown'd. I ask'd these strangers from the sea To tell me where my friend might be. But all replied they were too young To know the least of such a matter-- The older fish could tell me better. Pray, may I hear some older tongue?" What relish had the gentlefolks For such a sample of his jokes, Is more than I can now relate. They put, I'm sure, upon his plate, A monster of so old a date, He must have known the names and fate Of all the daring voyagers, Who, following the moon and stars, Have, by mischances, sunk their bones Within the realms of Davy Jones; And who, for centuries, had seen, Far down, within the fathomless, Where whales themselves are sceptreless, The ancients in their halls of green.

The Rat and the Oyster.

A country rat, of little brains, Grown weary of inglorious rest, Left home with all its straws and grains, Resolved to know beyond his nest. When peeping through the nearest fence, "How big the world is, how immense!" He cried; "there rise the Alps, and that Is doubtless famous Ararat." His mountains were the works of moles, Or dirt thrown up in digging holes! Some days of travel brought him where The tide had left the oysters bare. Since here our traveller saw the sea, He thought these shells the ships must be. "My father was, in truth," said he, "A coward, and an ignoramus; He dared not travel: as for me, I've seen the ships and ocean famous; Have cross'd the deserts without drinking, And many dangerous streams unshrinking." Among the shut-up shell-fish, one Was gaping widely at the sun; It breathed, and drank the air's perfume, Expanding, like a flower in bloom. Both white and fat, its meat Appear'd a dainty treat. Our rat, when he this shell espied, Thought for his stomach to provide. "If not mistaken in the matter," Said he, "no meat was ever fatter, Or in its flavour half so fine, As that on which to-day I dine." Thus full of hope, the foolish chap Thrust in his head to taste, And felt the pinching of a trap-- The oyster closed in haste.

Now those to whom the world is new Are wonder-struck at every view; And the marauder finds his match, When he is caught who thinks to catch.

The Hog, the Goat, and the Sheep.

A goat, a sheep, and porker fat, All to the market rode together. Their own amusement was not that Which caused their journey thither. Their coachman did not mean to "set them down" To see the shows and wonders of the town. The porker cried, in piercing squeals, As if with butchers at his heels. The other beasts, of milder mood, The cause by no means understood. They saw no harm, and wonder'd why At such a rate the hog should cry. "Hush there, old piggy!" said the man, "And keep as quiet as you can. What wrong have you to squeal about, And raise this dev'lish, deaf'ning shout? These stiller persons at your side Have manners much more dignified. Pray, have you heard A single word Come from that gentleman in wool? That proves him wise." "That proves him fool!" The testy hog replied; "For did he know To what we go, He'd cry almost to split his throat; So would her ladyship the goat. They only think to lose with ease, The goat her milk, the sheep his fleece: They're, maybe, right; but as for me This ride is quite another matter. Of service only on the platter, My death is quite a certainty. Adieu, my dear old piggery!" The porker's logic proved at once Himself a prophet and a dunce.

Hope ever gives a present ease, But fear beforehand kills: The wisest he who least foresees Inevitable ills.

The Rat and the Elephant.

A rat, of quite the smallest size, Fix'd on an elephant his eyes, And jeer'd the beast of high descent Because his feet so slowly went. Upon his back, three stories high, There sat, beneath a canopy, A certain sultan of renown, His dog, and cat, and wife sublime, His parrot, servant, and his wine, All pilgrims to a distant town. The rat profess'd to be amazed That all the people stood and gazed With wonder, as he pass'd the road, Both at the creature and his load. "As if," said he, "to occupy A little more of land or sky Made one, in view of common sense, Of greater worth and consequence! What see ye, men, in this parade, That food for wonder need be made? The bulk which makes a child afraid? In truth, I take myself to be, In all aspects, as good as he." And further might have gone his vaunt; But, darting down, the cat Convinced him that a rat Is smaller than an elephant.

The Ass and the Dog.

Along the road an ass and dog One master following, did jog. Their master slept: meanwhile, the ass Applied his nippers to the grass, Much pleased in such a place to stop, Though there no thistle he could crop. He would not be too delicate, Nor spoil a dinner for a plate, Which, but for that, his favourite dish, Were all that any ass could wish. "My dear companion," Towser said,-- "'Tis as a starving dog I ask it,-- Pray lower down your loaded basket, And let me get a piece of bread." No answer--not a word!--indeed, The truth was, our Arcadian steed Fear'd lest, for every moment's flight, His nimble teeth should lose a bite. At last, "I counsel you," said he, "to wait Till master is himself awake, Who then, unless I much mistake, Will give his dog the usual bait." Meanwhile, there issued from the wood A creature of the wolfish brood, Himself by famine sorely pinch'd. At sight of him the donkey flinch'd, And begg'd the dog to give him aid. The dog budged not, but answer made,-- "I counsel thee, my friend, to run, Till master's nap is fairly done; There can, indeed, be no mistake, That he will very soon awake; Till then, scud off with all your might; And should he snap you in your flight, This ugly wolf,--why, let him feel The greeting of your well-shod heel. I do not doubt, at all, but that Will be enough to lay him flat." But ere he ceased it was too late; The ass had met his cruel fate.

Education.

Lapluck and Cæsar brothers were, descended From dogs by Fame the most commended, Who falling, in their puppyhood, To different masters anciently, One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood; From thieves the other kept a kitchen free. At first, each had another name; But, by their bringing up, it came, While one improved upon his nature, The other grew a sordid creature, Till, by some scullion called Lapluck, The name ungracious ever stuck. To high exploits his brother grew, Put many a stag at bay, and tore Full many a trophy from the boar; In short, him first, of all his crew, The world as Cæsar knew; And care was had, lest, by a baser mate, His noble blood should e'er degenerate. Not so with him of lower station, Whose race became a countless nation-- The common turnspits throughout France-- Where danger is, they don't advance-- Precisely the Antipodes Of what we call the Cæsars, these!

Oft falls the son below his sire's estate: Through want of care all things degenerate. For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts, What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts!