Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CXCI and CXCII

THE KITE AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

A Daring thief, a Kite by name, Spread dire alarm o'er hill and dale.

E'en little children cried, "For shame!"

When he pounced on a Nightingale.

The bird of Spring for life prayed well-- "I'm fit for songs, and not for eating;

Oh, hear my notes, and I will tell My tale of Tyreus, still repeating."

"Tyreus!

is that good food?"

then said The Kite.

"No, no;" was the reply;

"He was a mighty king, who made His love to me, with vow and sigh.

"His cruel love was strong: too strong!

'Twas mad--'twas criminal: now, sire, Let me transport you with my song;

A song so sweet you must admire."

Not having eaten all the day, The Kite had other views of things.

Thus--"What's the use of music, pray?

I, too, can talk of mighty kings.

"When you take kings--or kings take you-- Sing to them and their pretty dears;

I'm hungry, and know what to do-- An empty stomach has no ears."

[Illustration: THE FISH AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED ON THE CLARIONET.

] FABLE CXCII.

THE FISH AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED ON THE CLARIONET.

Tircis, for his loved Annette Playing on the Clarionet, Poured forth strains of music, such As the very dead might touch:-- Played and sang beside a stream Which through the meadows flowed like some delicious dream.

Meanwhile, Annette, demure and pretty, With rod and line, on fishes bent, Stood, listening unto Tircis' ditty, Which failed to lure them from their element.

Still Tircis sang, "Come, come, ye fishes, come: Come from the cool depths of your watery home;

Forsake your naiad, and see one more fair: Surrender all your lives to Annette's care!

She is gentle, she is kind;

In her keeping you will find Your lives more safe than down below.

Safe in a crystal pool, no want you'll know.

And should you in her keeping die, Your fate I'd suffer willingly."

Now this song was well sung, and the instrument's strains Were deliciously sweet, but, in spite of his pains, The fishes avoided the charmer's keen hook.

Then Tircis lost patience, and hastily took A net called a trammel, and, sweeping the stream, Placed at Annette's disposal trout, greyling, and bream.

Oh, shepherds of men, and not of sheep;

Kings, who think you can safely keep Your subjects in order by rule of right, Attend to my counsel, and spread out your nets, Before the time comes for forlorn regrets, And let them cringe, under the rule of might.