Aesop, in Rhyme | Page 2

He
published his life of Æsop, Anno Domini 1632. The later investigations
of a host of English and German scholars have added very little to the
facts given by M. Mezeriac. The substantial truth of his statements has
been confirmed by later criticism and inquiry.
It remains to state, that prior to this publication of M. Mezeriac, the life
of Æsop was from the pen of Maximus Planudes, a monk of
Constantinople, who was sent on an embassy to Venice by the
Byzantine Emperor Andronicus the elder, and who wrote in the early
part of the fourteenth century. His life was prefixed to all the early
editions of these fables, and was republished as late as 1727 by
Archdeacon Croxall as the introduction to his edition of Æsop. This life
by Planudes contains, however, so small an amount of truth, and is so
full of absurd pictures of the grotesque deformity of Æsop, of
wondrous apocryphal stories, of lying legends, and gross anachronisms,
that it is now universally condemned as false, puerile, and unauthentic.
It is given up in the present day, by general consent, as unworthy of the
slightest credit.
[Illustration]

ÆSOP'S FABLES.
[Illustration]
The Wolf Turned Shepherd.
A wolf, finding that the sheep were so afraid of him that he could not
get near them, disguised himself in the dress of a shepherd, and thus
attired approached the flock. As he came near, he found the shepherd
fast asleep. As the sheep did not run away, he resolved to imitate the
voice of the shepherd. In trying to do so, he only howled, and awoke

the shepherd. As he could not run away, he was soon killed.
Those who attempt to act in disguise are apt to overdo it.

The Stag at the Pool.
[Illustration]
A stag saw his shadow reflected in the water, and greatly admired the
size of his horns, but felt angry with himself for having such weak feet.
While he was thus contemplating himself, a Lion appeared at the pool.
The Stag betook himself to flight, and kept himself with ease at a safe
distance from the Lion, until he entered a wood and became entangled
with his horns. The Lion quickly came up with him and caught him.
When too late he thus reproached himself: "Woe is me! How have I
deceived myself! These feet which would have saved me I despised,
and I gloried in these antlers which have proved my destruction."
What is most truly valuable is often underrated.
[Illustration]

The Fox and the Mask.
A fox entered the house of an actor, and, rummaging through all his
properties, came upon a Mask, an admirable imitation of a human head.
He placed his paws on it, and said: "What a beautiful head! yet it is of
no value, as it entirely wants brains."
[Illustration]
A fair face is of little use without sense.

The Bear and the Fox.

A bear boasted very much of his philanthropy, saying "that of all
animals he was the most tender in his regard for man, for he had such
respect for him, that he would not even touch his dead body." A Fox
hearing these words said with a smile to the Bear: "Oh, that you would
eat the dead and not the living!"
We should not wait till a person is dead, to give him our respect.

The Wolf and the Lamb.
[Illustration]
A Wolf, meeting with a Lamb astray from the fold, resolved not to lay
violent hands on him, but to find some plea, which should justify to the
Lamb himself his right to eat him. He then addressed him: "Sirrah, last
year you grossly insulted me." "Indeed," bleated the Lamb in a
mournful tone of voice, "I was not then born." Then said the Wolf:
"You feed in my pasture." "No, good sir," replied the Lamb, "I have not
yet tasted grass." Again said the Wolf: "You drink of my well." "No,"
exclaimed the Lamb, "I never yet drank water, for as yet my mother's
milk is both food and drink to me." On which the Wolf seized him, and
ate him up, saying: "Well! I won't remain supperless, even though you
refute every one of my imputations."
The tyrant will always find a pretext for his tyranny, and it is useless
for the innocent to try by reasoning to get justice, when the oppressor
intends to be unjust.
[Illustration]

The One-Eyed Doe.
[Illustration]
A Doe, blind of an eye, was accustomed to graze as near to the edge of

the sea as she possibly could, to secure greater safety. She turned her
eye towards the land, that she might perceive the approach of a hunter
or hound, and her injured eye towards the sea, from which she