[[17]] Bidpaii (The Hermit). Also in Lokman.
[XI].--THE FISHES AND THE SHEPHERD WHO PLAYED THE FLUTE.[[18]]
Thrysis--who for his Annette dear
Made music with his flute and voice,
Which might have roused the dead to hear,
And in their silent graves rejoice--
Sang once the livelong day,
In the flowery month of May,
Up and down a meadow brook,
While Annette fish'd with line and hook.
But ne'er a fish would bite;
So the shepherdess's bait
Drew not a fish to its fate,
From morning dawn till night.
The shepherd, who, by his charming songs,
Had drawn savage beasts to him in throngs,
And done with them as he pleased to,
Thought that he could serve the fish so.
'O citizens,' he sang, 'of this water,
Leave your Naiad in her grot profound;
Come and see the blue sky's lovely daughter,
Who a thousand times more will charm you;
Fear not that her prison will harm you,
Though there you should chance to get bound.
'Tis only to us men she is cruel:
You she will treat kindly;
A snug little pond she'll find ye,
Clearer than a crystal jewel,
Where you may all live and do well;
Or, if by chance some few
Should find their fate
Conceal'd in the bait,
The happier still are you;
For envied is the death that's met
At the hands of sweet Annette.'
This eloquence not effecting
The object of his wishes,
Since it failed in collecting
The deaf and dumb fishes,--
His sweet preaching wasted,
His honey'd talk untasted,
A net the shepherd seized, and, pouncing
With a fell scoop at the scaly fry,
He caught them; and now, madly flouncing,
At the feet of his Annette they lie!
O ye shepherds, whose sheep men are,
To trust in reason never dare.
The arts of eloquence sublime
Are not within your calling;
Your fish were caught, from oldest time,
By dint of nets and hauling.
[[18]] Aesop.
[XII].--THE TWO PARROTS, THE KING, AND HIS SON.[[19]]
Two parrots lived, a sire and son,
On roastings from a royal fire.
Two demigods, a son and sire,
These parrots pension'd for their fun.
Time tied the knot of love sincere:
The sires grew to each other dear;
The sons, in spite of their frivolity,
Grew comrades boon, in joke and jollity;
At mess they mated, hot or cool;
Were fellow-scholars at a school.
Which did the bird no little honour, since
The boy, by king begotten, was a prince.
By nature fond of birds, the prince, too, petted
A sparrow, which delightfully coquetted.
These rivals, both of unripe feather,
One day were frolicking together:
As oft befalls such little folks,
A quarrel follow'd from their jokes.
The sparrow, quite uncircumspect,
Was by the parrot sadly peck'd;
With drooping wing and bloody head,
His master pick'd him up for dead,
And, being quite too wroth to bear it,
In heat of passion kill'd his parrot.
When this sad piece of news he heard,
Distracted was the parent bird.
His piercing cries bespoke his pain;
But cries and tears were all in vain.
The talking bird had left the shore;[[20]]
In short, he, talking now no more,
Caused such a rage to seize his sire,
That, lighting on the prince in ire,
He put out both his eyes,
And fled for safety as was wise.
The bird a pine for refuge chose,
And to its lofty summit rose;
There, in the bosom of the skies,
Enjoy'd his vengeance sweet,
And scorn'd the wrath beneath his feet.
Out ran the king, and cried, in soothing tone,
'Return, dear friend; what serves it to bemoan?
Hate, vengeance, mourning, let us both omit.
For me, it is no more than fit
To own, though with an aching heart,
The wrong is wholly on our part.
Th' aggressor truly was my son--
My son? no; but by Fate the deed was done.
Ere birth of Time, stern Destiny
Had written down the sad decree,
That by this sad calamity
Your child should cease to live, and mine to see.
'Let both, then, cease to mourn;
And you, back to your cage return.'
'Sire king,' replied the bird,
'Think you that, after such a deed,
I ought to trust your word?
You speak of Fate; by such a heathen creed
Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed?
But whether Fate or Providence divine
Gives law to things below,
'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine,
Or where wild forests grow,
My days I finish, safely, far
From that which ought your love to mar,
And turn it all to hate.
Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel,
And ever hath been part and parcel
Of this your godlike state.
You would forget the cause of grief;
Suppose I grant you my belief,--
'Tis better still to make it true,
By keeping out of sight of you.
Sire king, my friend, no longer wait
For friendship to be heal'd;....
But absence is the cure of hate,
As 'tis from love the shield.'
[[19]] Bidpaii. In Knatchbull's English edition the fable is titled "The King and the Bird, or the emblem of revengeful persons who are unworthy of trust." It is also in the Lokman collection.
[[20]] The talking bird, &c.--"Stygia natabat jam frigida cymba."--VIRG.--Translator.
[XIII].--THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR.
The lioness had lost her young;
A hunter stole it from the vale;
The forests and the mountains rung
Responsive to her hideous wail.
Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose,
Could still the loud lament that rose
From that grim forest queen.
No animal, as you might think,
With such a noise could sleep a wink.
A bear presumed to intervene.
'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she,
'And that is all, from me.
The young that through your teeth have pass'd,
In file unbroken by a fast,
Had they nor dam nor sire?'
'They had them both.' 'Then I desire,
Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot,
While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat,
To know why you yourself cannot be quiet?'
'I quiet!--I!--a wretch bereaved!
My only son!--such anguish be relieved!
No, never! All for me below
Is but a life of tears and woe!'--
'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so?'--
'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.'
Such language, since the mortal fall,
Has fallen from the lips of all.
Ye human wretches, give your heed;
For your complaints there's little need.
Let him who thinks his own the hardest case,
Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold,
Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold,
And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace.