Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CLXXXVII and CLXXXVIII

FABLE CLXXXVII.

THE HUSBAND, THE WIFE, AND THE ROBBER.

A Husband, loving very tenderly-- Most tenderly--his wife, was treated ill By her;--her coldness caused him misery.

No look, no glance, no, not a friendly word,-- Not e'en a smile, such as she gave her bird,-- But cold looks, frowns, and peevish answers, still.

He did not Venus nor yet Hymen curse, Nor blame his destiny and cruel lot, Yet daily grew the evil worse and worse: Although he loved her every hour the more.

It is so now, and has been so of yore.

In fact, he was a Husband, was he not?

One night, as he lay moaning in his sleep, A Robber entered; and, struck dumb with fear, The fretful Wife, too frightened e'en to weep, Sprang to her Husband's arms, and, sheltered there, Defied all sorrow, trouble, danger near, As her heart softened, and burst forth the tear.

"Friend Robber," said the Husband, "but for thee I had not known this boundless happiness.

Take all I have,--I give thee liberty;

Take house and all, to prove my gratitude."

Thieves with much modesty are not endued;

The Robber took sufficient, I confess.

From this I argue that fear is so strong, It conquers hatred, and love, too, sometimes.

Yet love has triumphed over passion's throng: Witness the lover, who his house burnt down, So he might win Hope's brightest laurel crown, By rescuing her, the lady he'd loved long, And so secure her heart.

I like the story: It strikes my fancy very pleasantly;

It is so Spanish in its tone.

I glory In love, so chivalrous and mettlesome, And hold it grand (so will all times to come).

'Twas not by any means insanity.

FABLE CLXXXVIII.

THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.

Our lives are spoiled by demons twain;

Turn in, turn out; by each, in season;

By each with reckless force is slain That which we mortals call our <i>reason</i>.

And if you ask their name and state, I'll name god Love, the potentate, For one; and for the other, I'll name Ambition, Love's half-brother, Who, not seldom, Love defeats, And reigns within his choicest seats, All this I soon could prove; but now That which I wish to tell is how A Shepherd by a King was sent for, And what this royal deed was meant for.

The tale belongs to distant ages, And not to those which fill these pages.

A numerous flock that filled the plain, And brought the owner heaps of gain, Through Shepherd's care and industry, Once met a sapient's Monarch's eye.

Pleased with such skill and thrift, he said, "Good Shepherd, to rule men thou'rt bred;

Leave now thy sheep.

Come, follow me;

Accept my widest satrapy.

And so our Shepherd, who before Had scarce had friend but hermit poor, And very seldom had in view Aught but his sheep and wolf or two, Was with a viceroy's sceptre graced;

Nor was he by this change misplaced, For Nature had endowed his mind With funds of great good sense;

And how to govern human kind He amply learned from thence.

[ILLUSTRATION: THE SHEPHERD AND THE KING.

] Ere many days had passed away, His former friend, the hermit, Came running quickly, crying---"Say, 'Tis dream-work, or as truth affirm it, That you are now beloved of kings, And deal yourself in regal things.

Oh, kings mistrust; their favour goes Life snow on water; thousand woes Fall ever on the luckless wight Who basks a time in kingly might.

You know not to what precipice You haste.

Come back; take my advice."

The other smiled; on which the man Of sacred life, continuing, said-- "Alas!

already I can scan How far astray your wits have fled;

Your foolish conduct calls to mind The story of the traveller blind, Who sees a snake benumbed with cold;

The creature frosts so numb and nip, He lies like some old leathern whip;

His own just lost, the man takes hold, And waves the reptile in his joy, When one who passes by that way Cries--'Heavens!

throw that snake away, Or quickly 'twill your life destroy.'

'No snake; but a good whip,' replied the other.

'No whip; but snake,' replied the stranger;

'And, pray, should I thus make a pother Unless I saw your woful danger?

And will you really keep that thing, With fangs so sharp, and deadly sting?'

'Of course, I shall; my whip was lost, And this will save another's cost.

You speak from envy--sir, good-bye.'

The snake, now brandished wide and high, Grew warm and warmer gradually, And, stinging, caused the fool to die.

But, as for you, my satrap friend, You hasten to a bitterer end."

"What!

worse than death?"

the satrap cried.

"Ah!

worse than death," the sage replied.

And, in due time, the hermit's word Was proved with truth in due accord;

For all the pests that haunt a Court, By hint and wink, and false report, Soon made the satrap's virtuous skill Seem to his royal master ill.

Cabals arose on every side;

Defeated suitors loudly cried, "With what belonged to us he built that palace wide."

The Monarch fain would see this wealth, And thither stole one day by stealth, But nought within it met his eyes Save modest mediocrities, And praises of the joys that lie In loneliness and poverty.

"His wealth, then," cried the pests, "consists In diamonds, pearls, and amethysts;

In yonder chest with locks his hoard, The ransom of a king, is stored!"

The Monarch, with his own white hands, Undoes the locks and clumsy bands, Throws back the wooden lid--and mute Each base calumnious courtier stands;

For in that oaken chest is nought But cap and jacket, roughly wrought, A simple cloak, a shepherd's flute.

"Ah!

much-loved treasures;" then exclaims The Shepherd; "you are dear, indeed, For never did you rouse the greed Or malice of my fellow-men, And you your master now reclaims;

Let's leave this palace, ne'er again To enter, save in airy vision.

Monarch!

pardon this decision;

When I mounted Fortune's height, A fate untimely met my sight;

But who, alas!

is quite so wise, As not sometimes to wish to rise?"

FABLE CLXXXIX.