Fables of La Fontaine — Fables CLXXIX and CLXXX

THE SCULPTOR AND THE STATUE OF JUPITER.

A Block of marble shone so white, A Sculptor bought it, and, that night, Said, "Now, my chisel, let's decree: God, tank, or table, shall it be?

"We 'll have a god--the dream I clasp;

His hand a thunderbolt shall grasp.

Tremble, ye monarchs, ere it's hurled!

Behold the master of the world!"

So well the patient workman wrought In stone the vision of his thought, The people cried at last, "Beseech The gods to grant it power of speech!"

Some even dared the crowd to tell That, when the chisel's last blow fell, The Sculptor was the first with dread To turn away his trembling head.

The ancient poet's not to blame, For weak man's terror, fear, and shame The gods invented in each age, Abhorring human hate and rage.

The sculptor was a child; confess, His mind, like children's in distress, Tormented by this ceaseless sorrow, His doll might angry be to-morrow.

The heart obeys its guide, the mind: And from this source there flows, we find, This Pagan error, which we see Widen to all infinity.

We all embrace some favourite dream, And follow it down flood and stream.

Pygmalion was in love, 'tis said, With Venus that himself had made.

Each turns his dream into a truth, And tries to fancy it all sooth.

Ice to the facts before his face, But burning falsehood to embrace.

FABLE CLXXX.

THE MOUSE METAMORPHOSED INTO A GIRL.

A Mouse from the beak of an owl fell down, A Brahmin lifted it up, half dead: Tenderly nursed it, and tamed it, and fed.

I could not have done such an act, I own;

But every land has its own conceit: With a Mouse I'd rather not sit at meat.

But Brahmins regard a flea as a friend, For they think that the soul of a king may descend To some beast, or insect, or dog, or mite,-- Pythagoras taught them this law erudite.

Thus believing, the Brahmin a sorcerer prayed That the Mouse might resume some more elegant dress.

The wise man consented, and, truth to confess, Performed his task well, for the Mouse became Maid,-- Ah!

a Maid of fifteen--such an elegant creature, Of a form so genteel, of such exquisite feature, That if Paris had met her, that amorous boy Would have risked, to possess her, full many a Troy.

Surprised at the sight of a being so fair, The Brahmin said, "Darling, you've but to declare Whom you'll have for a husband, for none will refuse Such a beautiful bride;--you have only to choose."

Then the Maiden replied, "I confess that I long For a husband that's valiant, and noble, and strong."

Then the Brahmin knelt down, and addressing the Sun, Cried, "Noblest of living things, you are the one!"

But the Lord of the Daylight replied, "'Tis not true That I am so strong; for the Cloud you see yonder, Piled high with the rain, and the hail, and the thunder, Could hide me at once, if he chose, from your view."

To the Cloud, then, appealing, the Brahmin declared That with him, Lord of Storms, his child's fate should be shared.

"No, No!"

said the dark Cloud; "it never can be, For at each breath of wind I am driven to flee.

If you'd have for a son-in-law somebody strong, Your Maid to the North Wind should fairly belong."

Disgusted with constant refusals like these, The Brahmin appealed to the wild, roving Breeze;

And the Breeze was quite willing to wed the fair Maid, But a Mountain Top huge his love's pilgrimage stayed.

The ball, at this game of "a lover to find," Now passed to the Hill, but he quickly declined;

"For," said he, "with the Rat I'm not friends, and, I know, If I took the fair Maid, he would gnaw at me so."

At the mention of Rat, the fair Maiden, with glee, Cried, "'Tis Rat, and Rat only, my husband shall be!"

See a Girl for a Rat now Apollo forsaking!

It was one of those strokes which Love glories in making.

And, 'twixt you and me, such strange instances are, 'Mongst girls that we know of, more frequent than rare.

With men and with beasts it is ever the same: They still show the trace of the place whence they came;

And this fable may aid us to prove it; but yet, On a nearer inspection, some sophistry's met In its traits; for, to trust to this fanciful story, Any spouse were more good than the Sun in his glory.

But, what!

shall I say that a giant is less Than a flea, because fleas can a giant distress?

The Rat, if this rule must be strictly obeyed, Of his wife to the Cat would a present have made: And the Cat to the Dog, and the Dog to the Bear;

Till, at length, by a sort of a high-winding stair, The story had brought us where first 'twas begun, And the beautiful Maid would have married the Sun.

But let us return to the Metempsychosis The truth of which, firstly, this fable supposes.

It seems to me plain that the fable itself The system decidedly puts on the shelf.

According to Brahmin law, animals all That inhabit the earth, be they mighty or small,-- Be they men, mice, or wolves, or e'en creatures more coarse,-- Their souls have derived from one general source;

And vary, in physical actions, just so As the form of their organs may force them to do.

And if this be the case, then, how came it that one Of so fine-formed a frame did not wed with the Sun?

Whereas, as we know, to a Rat she devoted The charms on which many a king would have doated.

All things considered, I'll declare That girl and mouse souls different are.

We must our destiny fulfil, As ordered by the sovereign will.

Appeal to magic,--it is all in vain;

The soul, once born, will still the same remain.

[Illustration: THE MONKEY AND THE CAT.

] FABLE CLXXXI.