Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
An anecdote often told of him aptly illustrates his habit
of mind. He was late in coming to a fashionable dinner,
and his excuse was this:
"I hope you will pardon me," he said. "I was detained at
the funeral of an ant, and I could not come until the
ceremony was over."
This was not a pleasantry, but the truth. He had been
watching an ant-hill, and was so absorbed in observing
a dead ant carried off by the living colonists for burial
that he had forgotten his engagement.
The first six volumes of the Fables--published in 1668,
when he was 47, and in Paris--were an immediate and
brilliant success, at a time when French genius was in
full flower. But the literary men of that golden age got
their pecuniary reward not from the public, but from
patrons. Later in life, when La Fontaine at last was
graciously recognized by the grand monarch, he
appeared before the royal presence to receive his due.
Even then, with his usual absentmindedness, he forgot
to bring the book he was to present, and left behind him
in the carriage the purse of gold the King bestowed
upon him.
However, the Fables brought him much in fame and
friendship. Everybody loved La Fontaine. Favorite of great
lords and ladies, the court of Louis XIV could not make
him otherwise than natural. Poor and improvident, poverty
had no pangs for him. No sorrow ever gave him a
sleepless hour. To the last he lived up to his
nickname--
Bon-homme.
And it is the gentle and good
man who is always looking out at us at us from the
fables he refashioned for all time.
William Trowbridge Larned.
New York, July 1918.
This book contains the following Fables
from the French of La Fontaine:
The Frog Who Wished To Be As Big As The Ox.
There was a little Frog
Whose home was in a bog,
And he worried 'cause he wasn't big enough.
He sees an ox and cries:
"That's just about my size,
If I stretch myself--Say Sister, see me puff!"
So he blew, blew, blew,
Saying: "Sister, will
that
do?"
But she shook her head. And then he lost his wits.
For he stretched and puffed again
Till he cracked beneath the strain,
And burst, and flew about in little bits.
The Grasshopper And The Ant.
The Grasshopper, singing
All summer long,
Now found winter stinging,
And ceased in his song.
Not a morsel or crumb in his cupboard--
So he shivered, and ceased in his song.
Miss Ant was his neighbor;
To her he went:
"O, you're rich from labor,
And I've not a cent.
Lend me food, and I vow I'll return it,
Though at present I have not a cent."
The Ant's not a lender,
I must confess.
Her heart's far from tender
To one in distress.
So she said: "Pray, how passed you the summer,
That in winter you come to distress?"
"I sang through the summer,"
Grasshopper said.
"But now I am glummer
Because I've no bread."
"So you
sang!"
sneered the Ant. "That relieves me.
Now it's winter--go
dance
for your bread!"
The Cat And The Fox.
The Cat and the Fox once took a walk together,
Sharpening their wits with talk about the weather
And as their walking sharpened appetite, too;
They also took some things they had no right to.
Cream, that is so delicious when it thickens,
Pleased the Cat best. The Fox liked little chickens.
With stomachs filled, they presently grew prouder,
And each began to try to talk the louder--
Bragging about his skill, and strength, and cunning.
"Pooh!" said the Fox. "You ought to see
me
running.
Besides, I have
a hundred tricks.
You Cat, you!
What can
you
do when Mr. Dog comes at you?"
"To tell the truth," the Cat said, "though it grieve me
I've but
one
trick. Yet that's enough--believe me!"
There came a pack of fox-hounds--yelping, baying.
"Pardon me", said the Cat. "I can't be staying.
This is
my
trick." And up a tree he scurried,
Leaving the Fox below a trifle worried.
In vain he tried his hundred tricks and ruses
(The sort of thing that Mr. Dog confuses)--
Doubling, and seeking one hole, then another--
Smoked out of each until he thought he'd smother.
At last as he once more came out of cover,
Two nimble dogs pounced on him--All was over!
The Hen With The Golden Eggs.
To this lesson in greed,
Pray, little ones, heed:
Each day, we are told,
A most wonderful Hen
Laid an egg made of gold
For this meanest of men.
So greedy was he,
He was not satisfied.
"What is
one
egg to me?
I want
all
that' inside!"
He cut off her head,
And began to explore.
But the poor hen was dead.
And could lay eggs no more.
The Dog And His Image.
A foolish Dog, who carried in his jaw
A juicy bone,
Looked down into a stream, and there he saw
Another one,
Splash! In he plunged... The image disappeared--
The meat he
had
was gone.
Indeed, he nearly sank,
And barely reached the bank.
The Acorn and the Pumpkin.
Once there was a country bumpkin
Who observed a great big pumpkin
To a slender stem attached;
While upon an oak tree nourished,
Little acorns grew and flourished.
"Bah!" said he. "That's badly matched."
"If, despite my humble station,
I
'd a hand in this Creation,
Pumpkins on the oaks would be;
And the acorn, light and little,
On this pumpkin stem so brittle
Would be placed by clever Me."
Then, fatigued with so much thought, he
Rest beneath the oak tree sought. He
Soon in slumber found repose
But, alas! An acorn, falling
On the spot where he lay sprawling,
Hit him--plump!--Upon the nose.
Up he jumped--a wiser bumpkin.
"Gosh!" he said. "Suppose a pumpkin
Came a-fallin' on my face!
After all, if
I
had made things,
I'll allow that I'm afraid things
Might be some what out of place."
The Raven And The Fox.
Mr. Raven was perched upon a limb,
And Reynard the Fox looked up at him;
For the Raven held in his great big beak
A morsel the Fox would go far to seek.
Said the Fox, in admiring tones: "My word!
Sir Raven, you
are
a handsome bird.
Such feathers! If you would only
sing,
The birds of these woods would call you King."
The Raven, who did not see the joke,
Forgot that his voice was just a croak.
He opened his beak, in his foolish pride--
And down fell the morsel the Fox had spied.
"Ha-ha!" said the Fox. "And now you see
You should not listen to flattery.
Vanity, Sir is a horrid vice--
I'm sure the lesson is worth the price."
The City Mouse And The Country Mouse.
A City Mouse, with ways polite,
A Country Mouse invited
To sup with him and spend the night.
Said Country Mouse: "De--lighted!"
In truth it proved a royal treat,
With everything that's good to eat.
Alas! When they had just begun
To gobble their dinner,
A knock was heard that made them run.
The City Mouse seemed thinner.
And as they scampered and turned tail,
He saw the Country Mouse grow pale.
The knocking ceased. A false alarm!
The City Mouse grew braver.
"Come back!" he cried. "No, no! The farm,
Where I'll not quake or quaver,
Suits
me
," replied the Country Mouse.
"You're welcome to your city house."
The Lion And The Gnat.
The Lion once said to the Gnat: "You brat,
Clear out just as quick as you can, now--s'cat!
If you meddle with me
I will not guarantee
That you won't be slammed perfectly flat--
D'ye see?"
Said the Gnat: "Because you're called King--you thing!--
You fancy that you will make
me
take wing.
Why, an ox weighs much more,
Yet I drive him before
When I get good and ready to sting.
Now, roar!"
Then loudly his trumpet he blew. And--whew!
How fiercely and fast at his foe he flew.
From the tail to the toes
He draws blood as he goes.
Then he starts in to sting and to chew
His nose.
Sir Lion was mad with the pain. In vain
He roared and he foamed and he shook his mane.
All the beasts that were nigh
Fled in fear from his cry.
But the Gnat only stung him again--
In the eye.
He looked and laughed as he saw--Haw, Haw!--
The Lion self-torn by his tooth and claw,
So His Majesty's hide
With his own blood was dyed.
Said the Gnat: "Shall I serve you up raw--
Or fried?"
It's finished. The Lion's loud roar is o'er.
He's bitten and beaten, he's sick and sore.
But a spider's web spread
Trapped the Gnat as he sped
With the news...He will never fight more--
He's dead!
The Dove And The Ant.
An Ant who in a brook would drink
Fell off the bank. He tried
To swim, and felt his courage sink--
This ocean seemed so wide.
But for a dove who flew above
He would have drowned and died.
The friendly Dove within her beak
A bridge of grass-stem bore:
On this the Ant, though worn and weak.
Contrived to reach the shore
Said he: "The tact of this kind act
I'll cherish evermore."
Behold! A barefoot wretch went by
With slingshot in his hand.
Said he: "You'll make a pigeon pie
That will be kind of grand."
He meant to murder the gentle bird--
Who did not understand.
The Ant then stung him on the heel
(So quick to see the sling).
He turned his head, and missed a meal:
The pigeon pie took wing.
And so the Dove lived on to love--
Beloved by everything.
The Fox And The Grapes.
Rosy and ripe, and ready to box,
The grapes hang high o'er the hungry Fox.--
He pricks up his ears, and his eye he cocks.
Ripe and rosy, yet so high!--
He gazes at them with a greedy eye,
And knows he must eat and drink--or die.
When the jump proves to be beyond his power--
"Pooh!" says the Fox. "Let the pigs devour
Fruit of
that
sort.
Those grapes are sour!"
The Ass In The Lion's Skin.
An Ass in The Lion's skin arrayed
Made everybody fear.
And this was queer,
Because he was himself afraid.
Yet everywhere he strayed
The people ran like deer.
Ah, ah! He is betrayed:
No lion has that long and hairy ears.
Old Martin spied the tip; and country folk
Who are not in the secret of the joke,
With open mouths and eyes
Stare at old Martin's prize--
A Lion led to mill, with neck in yoke.
The Fox And The Stork.
Old Father Fox, who was known to be mean,
Invited Dame Stork in to dinner.
There was nothing but soup that could scarcely be seen:--
Soup
never
was served any thinner.
And the worst of it was, as I'm bound to relate,
Father Fox dished it up on a
flat
china plate.
Dame Stork, as you know, has a very long beak:
Not a crumb or drop could she gather
Had she pecked at the plate every day in the week.
But as for the Fox--sly old Father:
With his tongue lapping soup at a scandalous rate,
He licked up the last bit and polished the plate.
Pretty soon Mistress Stork spread a feast of her own;
Father Fox was invited to share it.
He came, and he saw, and he gave a great groan:
The stork had known how to prepare it.
She had meant to get even, and now was
her
turn:
Father Fox was invited
to eat from an urn.
The urn's mouth was small, and it had a long neck;
The food in it smelled most delightful.
Dame Stork, with her beak in, proceeded to peck;
But the Fox found that fasting is frightful.
Home he sneaked. On his way there he felt his ears burn
When he thought of the Stork and her tall, tricky urn.
The Monkey And The Cat.
Jocko the Monkey, Mouser--his chum, the Cat,
Had the same master. Both were sleek and fat,
And mischievous. If anything went wrong,
The neighbors where not blamed. Be sure of
that.
Jocko, 'tis said was something of a thief;
Mouser, if truth be told, would just as lief
Much stolen cheese as chase the midnight mouse.
The praise bestowed on
either
must be brief.
One day these rogues, stretched flat before the fire,
Saw chestnuts roassting. "Ah! Could we conspire
To jerk them out," said Jocko, "from the coals,
We'd smash the shells and have our heart's desire.
"Come, Brother Mouser! This day 'tis your turn
To do some bold and desperate thing to earn
A reputation. You, who are so quick,
Snatch out the nuts before they start to burn.
"Alas! That I, a Monkey, was not made
To play with fire. But
you
are not afraid."
So Mouser--pleased, like many a cat or man,
With pretty words--sly Jocko's wish obeyed.
Into the fire he put a practiced paw:
Out came a chestnut clinging to his claw--
Another and another. As they dropped
Jocko devoured them, whether roast or raw.
A servant enters. Off the robbers run.
Jocko, you may be sure, enjoyed the fun.
But Mouser's paw is sadly singed--for what?
Just to get nuts for Jocko.
He
got none.
The Hare And The Tortoise.
Said the Tortoise one day to the Hare:
"I'll run you a race if you dare.
I'll bet you cannot
Arrive at that spot
As quickly as
I
can get there."
Quoth the Hare: "You are surely insane.
Pray,
what
has affected your brain?
You seem pretty sick.
Call a doctor in--quick,
And let him prescribe for your pain."
"Never mind," said the Tortoise. "Let's run!
Will you bet me?" "Why, certainly." "Done!"
While the slow Tortoise creeps
Mr. Hare makes four leaps,
And then loafs around in the sun.
It seemed such a one-sided race,
To win was almost a disgrace.
So he frolicked about
Then at last he set out--
As the Tortoise was as nearing the place.
Too late! Though he sped like a dart,
The Tortoise was first. She was smart:
"You can surely run fast,"
She remarked. "Yet you're last.
It is better to get a good start."
The Heron Who Was Hard To Please.
A long-legged Heron, with long neck and beak,
Set out for a stroll by the bank of a creek.
So clear was the water that if you looked sharp
You could see the pike caper around with the carp.
The Heron might quickly have speared enough fish
To make for his dinner a capital dish.
But he was a very particular bird:
His food fixed "just so," at the hours he preferred.
And hence he decided 'twas better to wait,
Since his appetite grew when he supped rather late.
Pretty soon he was hungry, and stalked to the bank.
Where some pondfish were leaping--a fish of low rank.
"Bah, Bah!" said the Bird. "Sup on these? No--not I.
I'm known as a Heron: as such I live high."
Then some gudgeon swam past that were tempting to see,
But the Heron said hautily: "No--not for
me.
For those I'd not bother to open my beak,
If I had to hang 'round come next Friday a week."
Thus bragged the big Bird. But he's bound to confess
That he opened his elegant beak for much less.
Not another fish came.
When he found all else fail,
He was happy to happen upon a fat snail.
The Raven Who Would Rival The Eagle.
An Eagle swooped from out the sky,
And carried off a sheep.
A Raven seeing him, said: "I
Could do that too if I should try.
His meal comes mighty cheap."
Of all that well-fed flock was one
As fat as fat could be.
The Raven rose, and lit upon
Her back. She seemed to weigh a ton--
So very fat was she.
And, oh! Her wool was wondrous thick:
It would have made a mat.
The Raven's claws are caught, and stick!
He's played himself a pretty trick--
To fly with one so fat.
"Ba, ba!" "Caw, caw!" cry bird and beast.
The shepherd comes at last:
Sir Raven who would find a feast
Is from the woolly one released,
And in a cage kept fast.
The Miller, His Son And The Ass.
A Miller and Son once set out for the fair,
To sell a fine ass they had brought up with care;
And the way that they started made everyone stare.
To keep the Ass fresh, so the beast would sell dear
On a pole they slung him. It surely seemed queer:
He looked, with heels up, like some huge chandelier.
One person who passed them cried out in great glee.
"Was there anything ever so silly?" said he.
"Can you guess who the greatest Ass is of those three?"
The Miller at once put the brute on the ground;
And the Ass, who had liked to ride t'other way round,
Complained in language of curious sound.
No matter. The Miller now made his Son ride,
While he followed after or walked alongside.
Then up came three merchants. The eldest one cried;
"Get down there, young fellow! I never did see
Such manners:--a gray-beard walks where
you
should be.
He should ride, you should follow. Just take that from
me!"
"Dear Sirs," quoth the Miller, "I'd see you content."
He climbed to the saddle; on foot the boy went...
Three girls passed. Said one: "Do you see that old Gent?
There he sits, like a bishop. I say it's a shame,
While that boy trudging after seems more than half lame."
"Little girl," said the Miller, "go back whence you came."
Yet this young creature so worked on his mind
That he wanted no woman to call him unkind:
And he said to his Son: "Seat yourself here--behind."
With the Ass bearing double they jogged on again,
And once more met a critic, who said: "It is plain
Only dunces would give their poor donkey such pain.
He will die with their weight: it's a shame and a sin.
For their faithful servant they care not a pin.
They'll have nothing to sell at the fair but
his skin."
"Dear me!" said the Miller, "what
am
I to do?
Must I suit the whole world and the world's father, too?
Yet it must end
some
time--so I'll see the thing through."
Both Father and Son now decided to walk,
While the Ass marched in front with a strut and a stalk;
Yet the people who passed them continued to talk.
Said one to another: "Look there, if you please,
How they wear out their shoes, while their Ass takes his ease.
Were there ever, d'ye think, three such asses as these?"
Said the Miller: "You're right. I'm an Ass! It is true.
Too long have I listened to people like you.
But now I am done with the whole kit and crew.
"Let them blame me or praise me, keep silent or yell,
My goings and comings they cannot compel.
I will do as I please!"...So he did--and did well.
