Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CCXV and CCXVI

THE WOLF AND THE FOX.

Why to the Fox does Æsop ever Give the palm of being clever?

I the reason oft have sought, Without of reason finding aught.

When the Wolf's engaged in strife, To save his own or take a life, The Fox can do no more than he, Or half as much, and so I might With Master Æsop disagree.

But there's a case has come to light, In which 'tis fair I should admit The Fox displayed the greater wit.

On one fine night it so befell That Reynard, looking down a well, The moons full silver circle sees, And takes it for a lordly cheese.

Two pails, above the well suspended, To draw the water were intended;

And into that which higher hung, Good Master Reynard, famished, sprung.

Down swift he went, and, to his woe, Found out his sad mistake below.

He saw his death before his eyes;

For he could never hope to rise, Unless some other famished thing, Enticed by Dian's silver face, Into the other pail should spring, And then, by sinking, take his place.

Two days passed on without a visit From any creature; and, meanwhile, Old Time had made a huge deficit In Mistress Moon's well-rounded smile.

But, just as all seemed lost, at last A hungry Wolf the well's mouth past;

To whom the Fox, with joyous hail, Cried, "Mister Wolf, with me regale;

This glorious cheese you here behold, From Fauna's hands received its mould, Of milk which heifer Io gave.

If Jupiter were lying ill, I think the god himself would crave Of this delicious cheese to have his fill.

I've eaten my share, as you plainly may see, But enough still remains both for you and for me;

So, enter that pail, placed expressly for you."

Now, whether this story was told well, or not, The Wolf, like a fool, took it all in as true, And into the bucket with eagerness got;

When, outweighed, of course, Master Reynard got up, And the other remained, on the moonshine to sup.

And yet, why blame the luckless beast?

For, tempted by some phantom feast, As easily deceived, That which he hopes, or that he fears, In either of the hemispheres.

Is by each man believed.

FABLE CCXVI.

THE SICK STAG.

In a land where stags abounded, One fell very sick indeed;

And he saw his bed surrounded By a dozen "friends in need."

"Gentlemen!"

he muttered, "leave me, Leave me, I implore, to fate: Since your tears can only grieve me, And your solace comes too late."

Not a bit;--their lamentations Lasted for a week, or more;

[Illustration: THE SICK STAG.

] While they took their daily rations From his very scanty store.

Bit by bit his food diminished, Under such attacks as these;

Till the sufferer's course was finished By starvation--not disease.

For comforters of every kind Some fee is necessary, mind;

And nobody will give advice, Or shed a tear, without his price.

FABLE CCXVII.

THE CAT AND THE TWO SPARROWS.