Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CLVII and CLVIII

THE FUNERAL OF THE LIONESS.

The Lion lost his wife, one day;

And everybody made his way To bring the prince that consolation Which makes us feel our desolation.

The King announced the funeral On such a day, to one and all.

They regulate the obsequy, And marshal the vast company: As you may guess, each one was there;

The prince's groanings filled the air;

And the den shook, above, below-- Lions have got great lungs, you know.

As the King does, all the others do;

So the best courtiers blubbered too.

Let me define a court: a place Sad--gay; where every changeful face, Careless of joy, is ready still To change again at the King's will;

And if some cannot change, they try To watch the change in the King's eye: Chameleons, apes, in every feature;

Plastic and pliant in their nature.

One soul by turns fills many bodies: These knaves are soulless, which more odd is.

But to return.

The Stag alone Uttered no single sigh or groan.

It could not well be otherwise;

This death avenged old injuries.

The Queen had cruel, mischief done;

Strangled his wife, and slain his son: Therefore he shed no single tear.

A flatterer noticed, hovering near;

Moreover, the spy saw him smile.

The anger of a King, meanwhile (I may observe, with Solomon, The wisest man beneath the sun), Is terrible; but to our friend No book could much instruction lend.

"Base creature of the woods!"

with scorn The Lion cried, "you do not mourn!

What should prevent our sacred claws Teaching you friendship's holy laws?

Come, Wolves, avenge that Queen of mine: Offer this victim on her shrine!"

The Stag replied, "The time for grief Is passed; tears now are useless, Chief.

Your wife, whose features well I know, Appeared to me an hour ago, Half hid in flowers.

'My friend,' she said, 'For me your tears are vainly shed.

Weep not: in the Elysian fields I've every pleasure that life yields, Conversing with my holy friends;

But for a time the King descends To a despair that charms me so.'

" Scarce had he spoken thus, when, lo!

"A miracle!"

the courtiers cry.

The Stags rewarded, instantly;

And safely, without punishment, Back to his native woods is sent.

With dreams amuse a listening king, With falsehoods sweet and flattering;

Whatever rage within may burn, He'll gorge the bait, and friendly turn.

FABLE CLVIII

THE BASHAW AND THE MERCHANT.

An old Greek Merchant, one day, sought Protection from a Bashaw, bought At pasha's, not at merchant's, price (Such guardians are not very nice).

It cost so much, that he complained His purse and coffer were both drained.

Three other Turks, of lower station, Offered, from sheer commiseration, Their joint help, by word and deed, For less than half the first to cede: [Illustration: THE BASHAW AND THE MERCHANT.

] The Greek he listens, then agrees.

The Bashaw, cheated of his fees, Is told that if of time the nick He'd seize, these rascals he must trick-- Send them to Mahomet, to bear A message for his private ear;

And quickly, too, or they united, Knowing his friends, would see him righted;

Would send him some vile poison-broth, To show the keenness of their wrath;

And that would send him to protect The Stygian merchants, they expect.

The Turk--an Alexander--strode Unto the Merchant's snug abode: Down at the table sat--his air Generous, bold, and free from care, For he feared nothing,--how could he?

"My friend," he said, "you're quitting me;

And people tell me to watch keenly.

-- You are too worthy: so serenely No poisoner ever looks, I know;

So no more on that tack we'll go.

But for these patrons you have found, Hear me,--to tell a tale I'm bound.

To wrong you I have no intent, With reasoning, or with argument.

"Once a poor shepherd used to keep A dog, to guard his silly sheep;

Till some one asked him, plain and pat, How he could keep a beast like that, With such a ravenous appetite: It really wasn't fair or right.

'Twas their and every one's desire He'd give the dog up to the squire.

Three terriers were best for him, To guard his flocks, in life and limb: The cur ate three times more than they.

-- But the fool meddlers did not say He also fought with treble teeth, When wolves came howling out for death.

The shepherd listened--three dogs bought: They cost him less, but never fought.

The flock discovered their ill lot Almost as soon as you, I wot.

Your wretched choice will quickly do: Now mark what I have said to you;

If you'll do well, return to me."

The Greek obeyed him speedily.

'Tis good the provinces should heed: 'Tis better, in good faith I plead, Unto one powerful king to bend, Than on poor princelings to depend.

FABLE CLIX.