Fables of La Fontaine — a New Edition, with Notes by Gibbs, J. W. M., La Fontaine, Jean de, 1621-1695, Wright, Elizur, 1804-1885
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A word from our supporters: File extension WB1 | What strength and rage could never. [17] Aesop. In the original editions of La Fontaine's Fables, XI. and XII. are printed together, and headed "Fables XI. et XII." XII.--THE DOVE AND THE ANT.[18]From another couple, smaller yet. When, leaning o'er its crumbling brink, An ant fell in, and vainly tried, In this, to her, an ocean tide, To reach the land; whereat the dove, With every living thing in love, Was prompt a spire of grass to throw her, By which the ant regain'd the shore. Soon after chanced this dove to spy; And, being arm'd with bow and arrow, The hungry codger doubted not The bird of Venus, in his pot, Would make a soup before the morrow. Just as his deadly bow he drew, Our ant just bit his heel. Roused by the villain's squeal, The dove took timely hint, and flew Far from the rascal's coop;-- And with her flew his soup. [18] Aesop. XIII.--THE ASTROLOGER WHO STUMBLED INTO A WELL.[19]Plump to the bottom of a well, 'Poor blockhead!' cried a passer-by, 'Not see your feet, and read the sky?' To give a useful hint to most; For few there are in this our world so wise As not to trust in star or ghost, Or cherish secretly the creed That men the book of destiny may read. This book, by Homer and his pupils sung, What is it, in plain common sense, But what was chance those ancient folks among, And with ourselves, God's providence? Now chance doth bid defiance To every thing like science; 'Twere wrong, if not, To call it hazard, fortune, lot-- Things palpably uncertain. But from the purposes divine, The deep of infinite design, Who boasts to lift the curtain? Whom but himself doth God allow To read his bosom thoughts? and how Would he imprint upon the stars sublime The shrouded secrets of the night of time? And all for what? To exercise the wit Of those who on astrology have writ? To help us shun inevitable ills? To poison for us even pleasure's rills? The choicest blessings to destroy, Exhausting, ere they come, their joy? Such faith is worse than error--'tis a crime. The sky-host moves and marks the course of time; The sun sheds on our nicely-measured days The glory of his night-dispelling rays; And all from this we can divine Is, that they need to rise and shine,-- To roll the seasons, ripen fruits, And cheer the hearts of men and brutes. How tallies this revolving universe With human things, eternally diverse? Ye horoscopers, waning quacks, Please turn on Europe's courts your backs, And, taking on your travelling lists The bellows-blowing alchemists, Budge off together to the land of mists. But I've digress'd. Return we now, bethinking Of our poor star-man, whom we left a drinking. Besides the folly of his lying trade, This man the type may well be made Of those who at chimeras stare When they should mind the things that are. [19] Aesop. Diogenes Laertius tells the story of this fable of Thales of Miletus. "It is said that once he (Thales) was led out of his house by an old woman for the purpose of observing the stars, and he fell into a ditch and bewailed himself. On which the old woman said to him--'Do you, O Thales, who cannot see what is under your feet, think that thou shalt understand what is in heaven?'"--_Diogenes Laertius, Bohn's edition._ XIV.--THE HARE AND THE FROGS.[20] |



