Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CXXV and CXXVI
FABLE CXXV.
THE ANIMALS SICK OF THE PLAGUE.
A Malady that Heaven sent On earth, for our sin's punishment-- The Plague (if I must call it right), Fit to fill Hades in a night-- Upon the animals made war;
Not all die, but all stricken are.
They scarcely care to seek for food, For they are dying, and their brood.
The Wolves and Foxes crouching keep, Nor care to watch for timorous Sheep.
Even the very Turtle-doves Forget their little harmless loves.
The Lion, calling counsel, spoke-- "Dear friends, upon our luckless crown Heaven misfortune has sent down, For some great sin.
Let, then, the worst Of all our race be taken first, And sacrificed to Heaven's ire;
So healing Mercury, through the fire, May come and free us from this curse, That's daily growing worse and worse.
History tells us, in such cases For patriotism there a place is.
No self-deception;--plain and flat Search each his conscience, mind you that.
I've eaten several sheep, I own.
What harm had they done me?
--why, none.
Sometimes--to be quite fair and true-- I've eaten up the shepherd too.
I will devote myself; but, first, Let's hear if any has done worst.
Each must accuse himself, as I Have done; for justice would let die The guiltiest one."
The Fox replied-- "You are too good to thus decide.
[Illustration: THE ANIMAL SICK OF THE PLAGUE.
] Your Majesty's kind scruples show Too much of delicacy.
No What!
eating sheep--the paltry--base, Is that a sin?
You did the race, In munching them, an honour--yes, I'm free, your highness, to confess.
And as for shepherds, they earn all The evils that upon them fall: Being of those who claim a sway (Fantastic claim!
) o'er us, they say."
Thus spoke the Fox the flatterer's text.
The Tiger and the Bear came next, With claims that no one thought perplexed.
In fact, more quarrelsome they were, The fewer grew the cavillers there.
Even the humblest proved a saint: None made a slanderous complaint.
The Ass came in his turn, and said, "For one thing I myself upbraid.
Once, in a rank green abbey field, Sharp hunger made me basely yield.
The opportunity was there;
The grass was rich; the day was fair.
Some demon tempted me: I fell, And cleared my bare tongue's length, pell-mell."
Scarce had he spoken ere they rose In arms, nor waited for the close.
A Wolf, half lawyer, made a speech, And proved this creature wrong'd them each And all, and they must sacrifice This scurvy wretch, who to his eyes Was steep'd in every wickedness.
Doom'd to the rope, without redress, "Hang him at once!
What!
go and eat An Abbot's grass, however sweet!
Abominable crime!"
they cry;
"Death only clears the infamy."
If you are powerful, wrong or right, The court will change your black to white.
FABLE CXXVI.
THE RAT WHO RETIRED FROM THE WORLD.
There is a legend of the Levantine, That once a certain Rat, weary of strife, Retired into a Dutch cheese, calm, serene, Far from the bustle and the cares of life.
In solitude extreme, dim stretching far and wide, The hermit dwelt in all tranquillity, And worked so well with feet and teeth inside, Shelter and food were his in certainty.
What need of more?
Soon he grew fat with pride;
God showers his blessings upon those who pay Their vows to him in faith.
There came, one day, A pious deputy, from Ratdom sent, To beg some trilling alms, because their town-- Ratopolis--was leaguered with intent Most deadly; they, without a crown, Had been obliged to fly,--so indigent Was the assailed republic.
Little ask The scared ambassadors--the succour sure, In a few days: the loan was no hard task.
"My friend," the hermit cried.
"I can endure No more the things of this world.
What have I, A poor recluse, to give you, but a prayer?
I yield you patiently unto His care."
And then he shut the door, quite tranquilly.
Who do I mean, then, by this selfish Rat?
A monk?
--no, sir; a dervish is more fat.
A monk, where'er in this world he may be, Is always full, you know, of charity.
