Part 8

The Two Dogs and the Dead Ass.

Two lean and hungry mastiffs once espied A dead ass floating on a water wide. The distance growing more and more, Because the wind the carcass bore,-- "My friend," said one, "your eyes are best; Pray let them on the water rest: What thing is that I seem to see? An ox, or horse? what can it be?" "Hey!" cried his mate; "what matter which, Provided we could get a flitch? It doubtless is our lawful prey: The puzzle is to find some way To get the prize; for wide the space To swim, with wind against your face. Let's drink the flood; our thirsty throats Will gain the end as well as boats. The water swallow'd, by and by We'll have the carcass, high and dry-- Enough to last a week, at least." Both drank as some do at a feast; Their breath was quench'd before their thirst, And presently the creatures burst!

And such is man. Whatever he May set his soul to do or be, To him is possibility. How many vows he makes! How many steps he takes! How does he strive, and pant, and strain, Fortune's or Glory's prize to gain!

The Monkey and the Leopard.

A monkey and a leopard were The rivals at a country fair. Each advertised his own attractions. Said one, "Good sirs, the highest place My merit knows; for, of his grace, The king hath seen me face to face; And, judging by his looks and actions, I gave the best of satisfactions. When I am dead, 'tis plain enough, My skin will make his royal muff. So richly is it streak'd and spotted, So delicately waved and dotted, Its various beauty cannot fail to please." And, thus invited, everybody sees; But soon they see, and soon depart. The monkey's show-bill to the mart His merits thus sets forth the while, All in his own peculiar style:-- "Come, gentlemen, I pray you, come; In magic arts I am at home. The whole variety in which My neighbour boasts himself so rich, Is to his simple skin confined, While mine is living in the mind. For I can speak, you understand; Can dance, and practise sleight-of-hand; Can jump through hoops, and balance sticks; In short, can do a thousand tricks; One penny is my charge to you, And, if you think the price won't do, When you have seen, then I'll restore Each man his money at the door."

The ape was not to reason blind; For who in wealth of dress can find Such charms as dwell in wealth of mind? One meets our ever-new desires, The other in a moment tires. Alas! how many lords there are, Of mighty sway and lofty mien, Who, like this leopard at the fair, Show all their talents on the skin!

The Acorn and the Pumpkin.

God's works are good. This truth to prove Around the world I need not move; I do it by the nearest pumpkin. "This fruit so large, on vine so small," Surveying once, exclaim'd a bumpkin-- "What could He mean who made us all? He's left this pumpkin out of place. If I had order'd in the case, Upon that oak it should have hung-- A noble fruit as ever swung To grace a tree so firm and strong. Indeed, it was a great mistake, As this discovery teaches, That I myself did not partake His counsels whom my curate preaches. All things had then in order come; This acorn, for example, Not bigger than my thumb, Had not disgraced a tree so ample. The more I think, the more I wonder To see outraged proportion's laws, And that without the slightest cause; God surely made an awkward blunder." With such reflections proudly fraught, Our sage grew tired of mighty thought, And threw himself on Nature's lap, Beneath an oak, to take his nap. Plump on his nose, by lucky hap, An acorn fell: he waked, and in The scarf he wore beneath his chin, He found the cause of such a bruise As made him different language use. "O! O!" he cried; "I bleed! I bleed! And this is what has done the deed! But, truly, what had been my fate, Had this had half a pumpkin's weight! I see that God had reasons good, And all His works were understood." Thus home he went in humbler mood.

The Fool who Sold Wisdom.

A fool, in town, did wisdom cry; The people, eager, flock'd to buy. Each for his money got, Paid promptly on the spot, Besides a box upon the head, Two fathoms' length of thread. The most were vex'd--but quite in vain, The public only mock'd their pain. The wiser they who nothing said, But pocketed the box and thread. To search the meaning of the thing Would only laughs and hisses bring. Hath reason ever guaranteed The wit of fools in speech or deed? 'Tis said of brainless heads in France, The cause of what they do is chance. One dupe, however, needs must know What meant the thread, and what the blow So ask'd a sage, to make it sure. "They're both hieroglyphics pure," The sage replied without delay; "All people well advised will stay From fools this fibre's length away, Or get--I hold it sure as fate-- The other symbol on the pate. So far from cheating you of gold, The fool this wisdom fairly sold."

The Oyster and the Litigants.

Two pilgrims on the sand espied An oyster thrown up by the tide. In hope, both swallow'd ocean's fruit; But ere the fact there came dispute. While one stoop'd down to take the prey, The other push'd him quite away. Said he, "'Twere rather meet To settle which shall eat. Why, he who first the oyster saw Should be its eater by the law; The other should but see him do it." Replied his mate, "If thus you view it, Thank God the lucky eye is mine." "But I've an eye not worse than thine," The other cried, "and will be cursed, If, too, I didn't see it first." "You saw it, did you? Grant it true, I saw it then, and felt it too." Amidst this sweet affair, Arrived a person very big, Ycleped Sir Nincom Periwig. They made him judge,--to set the matter square. Sir Nincom, with a solemn face, Took up the oyster and the case: In opening both, the first he swallow'd, And, in due time, his judgment follow'd. "Attend: the court awards you each a shell Cost free; depart in peace, and use them well."

Foot up the cost of suits at law, The leavings reckon and awards, The cash you'll see Sir Nincom draw, And leave the parties--purse and cards.

The Wolf and the Lean Dog.

A Troutling, some time since, Endeavour'd vainly to convince A hungry fisherman Of his unfitness for the frying-pan. The fisherman had reason good-- The troutling did the best he could-- Both argued for their lives. Now, if my present purpose thrives, I'll prop my former proposition By building on a small addition. A certain wolf, in point of wit The prudent fisher's opposite, A dog once finding far astray, Prepared to take him as his prey. The dog his leanness pled; "Your lordship, sure," he said, "Cannot be very eager To eat a dog so meagre. To wait a little do not grudge: The wedding of my master's only daughter Will cause of fatted calves and fowls a slaughter; And then, as you yourself can judge, I cannot help becoming fatter." The wolf, believing, waived the matter, And so, some days therefrom, Return'd with sole design to see If fat enough his dog might be. The rogue was now at home: He saw the hunter through the fence. "My friend," said he, "please wait; I'll be with you a moment hence, And fetch our porter of the gate." This porter was a dog immense, That left to wolves no future tense. Suspicion gave our wolf a jog,-- It might not be so safely tamper'd. "My service to your porter dog," Was his reply, as off he scamper'd. His legs proved better than his head, And saved him life to learn his trade.

Nothing too Much.

Look where we will throughout creation, We look in vain for moderation.

The grain, best gift of Ceres fair, Green waving in the genial air, By overgrowth exhausts the soil; By superfluity of leaves Defrauds the treasure of its sheaves, And mocks the busy farmer's toil. Not less redundant is the tree, So sweet a thing is luxury. The grain within due bounds to keep, Their Maker licenses the sheep The leaves excessive to retrench. In troops they spread across the plain, And, nibbling down the hapless grain, Contrive to spoil it, root and branch. So, then, with licence from on high, The wolves are sent on sheep to prey; The whole the greedy gluttons slay; Or, if they don't, they try.

Next, men are sent on wolves to take The vengeance now condign: In turn the same abuse they make Of this behest divine.

Of animals, the human kind Are to excess the most inclined. On low and high we make the charge,-- Indeed, upon the race at large. There liveth not the soul select That sinneth not in this respect. Of "Nought too much," the fact is, All preach the truth,--none practise.

The Cat and the Fox.

The cat and fox, when saints were all the rage Together went upon pilgrimage. Our pilgrims, as a thing of course, Disputed till their throats were hoarse. Then, dropping to a lower tone, They talk'd of this, and talk'd of that, Till Renard whisper'd to the cat, "You think yourself a knowing one: How many cunning tricks have you? For I've a hundred, old and new, All ready in my haversack." The cat replied, "I do not lack, Though with but one provided; And, truth to honour, for that matter, I hold it than a thousand better." In fresh dispute they sided; And loudly were they at it, when Approach'd a mob of dogs and men. "Now," said the cat, "your tricks ransack, And put your cunning brains to rack, One life to save; I'll show you mine-- A trick, you see, for saving nine." With that, she climb'd a lofty pine. The fox his hundred ruses tried, And yet no safety found. A hundred times he falsified The nose of every hound.-- Was here, and there, and everywhere, Above, and under ground; But yet to stop he did not dare, Pent in a hole, it was no joke, To meet the terriers or the smoke. So, leaping into upper air, He met two dogs, that choked him there.

Expedients may be too many, Consuming time to choose and try. On one, but that as good as any, 'Tis best in danger to rely.

The Monkey and the Cat.

Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, (The one was a monkey, the other a cat,) Co-servants and lodgers: More mischievous codgers Ne'er mess'd from a platter, since platters were flat. Was anything wrong in the house or about it, The neighbours were blameless,--no mortal could doubt it; For Bertrand was thievish, and Ratto so nice, More attentive to cheese than he was to the mice. One day the two plunderers sat by the fire, Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. To steal them would be a right noble affair. A double inducement our heroes drew there-- 'Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill, And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. Said Bertrand to Ratto, "My brother, to-day Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, And take me these chestnuts, I pray. Which were I but otherwise fitted (As I am ingeniously witted) For pulling things out of the flame, Would stand but a pitiful game." "'Tis done," replied Ratto, all prompt to obey; And thrust out his paw in a delicate way. First giving the ashes a scratch, He open'd the coveted batch; Then lightly and quickly impinging, He drew out, in spite of the singeing, One after another, the chestnuts at last,-- While Bertrand contrived to devour them as fast. A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun. Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one.--

No more are the princes, by flattery paid For furnishing help in a different trade, And burning their fingers to bring More power to some mightier king.

The Spider and the Swallow.

"O Jupiter, whose fruitful brain, By odd obstetrics freed from pain, Bore Pallas, erst my mortal foe, Pray listen to my tale of woe. This Progne takes my lawful prey. As through the air she cuts her way, My flies she catches from my door,-- Yes, mine--I emphasize the word,-- And, but for this accursed bird, My net would hold an ample store: For I have woven it of stuff To hold the strongest strong enough." 'Twas thus, in terms of insolence, Complain'd the fretful spider, once Of palace-tapestry a weaver, But then a spinster and deceiver, That hoped within her toils to bring Of insects all that ply the wing. The sister swift of Philomel, Intent on business, prosper'd well; In spite of the complaining pest, The insects carried to her nest-- Nest pitiless to suffering flies-- Mouths gaping aye, to gormandize, Of young ones clamouring, And stammering, With unintelligible cries. The spider, with but head and feet, And powerless to compete With wings so fleet, Soon saw herself a prey. The swallow, passing swiftly by, Bore web and all away, The spinster dangling in the sky!