[[34]] Phaedrus, III., 4; also Aesop.
[XXIII].--THE ENGLISH FOX.[[35]]
To Madame Harvey.[[36]]
Sound reason and a tender heart
With thee are friends that never part.
A hundred traits might swell the roll;--
Suffice to name thy nobleness of soul;
Thy power to guide both men and things;
Thy temper open, bland and free,
A gift that draweth friends to thee,
To which thy firm affection clings,
Unmarr'd by age or change of clime,
Or tempests of this stormy time;--
All which deserve, in highest lyric,
A rich and lofty panegyric;
But no such thing wouldst thou desire,
Whom pomp displeases, praises tire.
Hence mine is simple, short, and plain;
Yet, madam, I would fain
Tack on a word or two
Of homage to your country due,--
A country well beloved by you.
With mind to match the outward case,
The English are a thinking race.
They pierce all subjects through and through;
Well arm'd with facts, they hew their way,
And give to science boundless sway.
Quite free from flattery, I say,
Your countrymen, for penetration,
Must bear the palm from every nation;
For e'en the dogs they breed excel
Our own in nicety of smell.
Your foxes, too, are cunninger,
As readily we may infer
From one that practised, 'tis believed,
A stratagem the best conceived.
The wretch, once, in the utmost strait
By dogs of nose so delicate,
Approach'd a gallows, where,
A lesson to like passengers,
Or clothed in feathers or in furs,
Some badgers, owls, and foxes, pendent were.
Their comrade, in his pressing need,
Arranged himself among the dead.
I seem to see old Hannibal
Outwit some Roman general,
And sit securely in his tent,
The legions on some other scent.
But certain dogs, kept back
To tell the errors of the pack,
Arriving where the traitor hung,
A fault in fullest chorus sung.
Though by their bark the welkin rung,
Their master made them hold the tongue.
Suspecting not a trick so odd,
Said he, 'The rogue's beneath the sod.
My dogs, that never saw such jokes,
Won't bark beyond these honest folks.'
The rogue would try the trick again.
He did so to his cost and pain.
Again with dogs the welkin rings;
Again our fox from gallows swings;
But though he hangs with greater faith,
This time, he does it to his death.
So uniformly is it true,
A stratagem is best when new.
The hunter, had himself been hunted,
So apt a trick had not invented;
Not that his wit had been deficient;--
With that, it cannot be denied,
Your English folks are well-provision'd;--
But wanting love of life sufficient,
Full many an Englishman has died.
One word to you, and I must quit
My much-inviting subject:
A long eulogium is a project
For which my lyre is all unfit.
The song or verse is truly rare,
Which can its meed of incense bear,
And yet amuse the general ear,
Or wing its way to lands afar.
Your prince[[37]] once told you, I have heard,
(An able judge, as rumour says,)
That he one dash of love preferr'd
To all a sheet could hold of praise.
Accept--'tis all I crave--the offering
Which here my muse has dared to bring--
Her last, perhaps, of earthly acts;
She blushes at its sad defects.
Still, by your favour of my rhyme,
Might not the self-same homage please, the while,
The dame who fills your northern clime
With wingèd emigrants sublime
From Cytherea's isle?[[38]]
By this, you understand, I mean
Love's guardian goddess, Mazarin.[[39]]
[[35]] Abstemius.
[[36]] Madame Harvey.--An English lady (née Montagu), the widow of an officer of Charles II. (of England) who is said to have died at Constantinople. She was a visitor at the English embassy in Paris, and moved in the highest circles generally of that city; a circumstance which enabled La Fontaine to make her acquaintance and secure her as one of his best friends and patrons. She died in 1702. [[37]] Your Prince.--Charles II. of England.
[[38]] Cytherea's isle.--Where Venus was worshipped.
[[39]] Goddess Mazarin.--The Duchess de Mazarin, niece to the Cardinal. She was at this time in England, where she died (at Chelsea) in 1699. She married the Duke de la Meilleraie, but it was stipulated that she should adopt the name and arms of Mazarin.
[XXIV].--THE SUN AND THE FROGS.[[40]]
Long from the monarch of the stars
The daughters of the mud received
Support and aid; nor dearth nor wars,
Meanwhile, their teeming nation grieved.
They spread their empire far and wide
Through every marsh, by every tide.
The queens of swamps--I mean no more
Than simply frogs (great names are cheap)--
Caball'd together on the shore,
And cursed their patron from the deep,
And came to be a perfect bore.
Pride, rashness, and ingratitude,
The progeny of fortune good,
Soon brought them to a bitter cry,--
The end of sleep for earth and sky.
Their clamours, if they did not craze,
Would truly seem enough to raise
All living things to mutiny
Against the power of Nature's eye.
The sun,[[41]] according to their croak,
Was turning all the world to smoke.
It now behoved to take alarm,
And promptly powerful troops to arm.
Forthwith in haste they sent
Their croaking embassies;
To all their states they went,
And all their colonies.
To hear them talk, the all
That rides upon this whirling ball,
Of men and things, was left at stake
Upon the mud that skirts a lake!
The same complaint, in fens and bogs,
Still ever strains their lungs;
And yet these much-complaining frogs
Had better hold their tongues;
For, should the sun in anger rise,
And hurl his vengeance from the skies,
That kingless, half-aquatic crew
Their impudence would sorely rue.
[[40]] Phaedrus, I., 6. [Fable XII., Book VI.], gives another version of the same story.
[[41]] The sun.--This fable has reference to the current troubles between France and the Dutch. Louis XIV. is the sun. He had adopted the sun as his emblem.
[XXV].--THE LEAGUE OF THE RATS.
A mouse was once in mortal fear
Of a cat that watch'd her portal near.
What could be done in such a case?
With prudent care she left the catship,
And courted, with a humble grace,
A neighbour of a higher race,
Whose lordship--I should say his ratship--
Lay in a great hotel;
And who had boasted oft, 'tis said,
Of living wholly without dread.
'Well,' said this braggart, 'well,
Dame Mouse, what should I do?
Alone I cannot rout
The foe that threatens you.
I'll rally all the rats about,
And then I'll play him such a trick!'
The mouse her court'sy dropp'd,
And off the hero scamper'd quick,
Nor till he reach'd the buttery stopp'd,
Where scores of rats were clustered,
In riotous extravagance,
All feasting at the host's expense.
To him, arriving there much flustered,
Indeed, quite out of breath,
A rat among the feasters saith,
'What news? what news? I pray you, speak.'
The rat, recovering breath to squeak,
Replied, 'To tell the matter in a trice,
It is, that we must promptly aid the mice;
For old Raminagrab is making
Among their ranks a dreadful quaking.
This cat, of cats the very devil,
When mice are gone, will do us evil.'
'True, true,' said each and all;
'To arms! to arms!' they cry and call.
Some ratties by their fears
Were melted e'en to tears.
It matter'd not a whisk,
Nor check'd the valour brisk.
Each took upon his back
Some cheese in haversack,
And roundly swore to risk
His carcass in the cause.
They march'd as to a feast,
Not flinching in the least.--
But quite too late, for in his jaws
The cat already held the mouse.
They rapidly approach'd the house--
To save their friend, beyond a doubt.
Just then the cat came growling out,
The mouse beneath his whisker'd nose.
And march'd along before his foes.
At such a voice, our rats discreet,
Foreboding a defeat,
Effected, in a style most fleet,
A fortunate retreat.
Back hurried to his hole each rat,
And afterwards took care to shun the cat.