The Fables of La Fontaine | Page 3

could there be a richer prize?Than solid gold beneath the skies??Or, if there could, how could it dwell?Within their own old, mossy well??Were questions which excited wonder,?And kept their headlong av'rice under.?The golden cup each fear'd to choose,?Lest he the better gift should lose;?And so resolved our prudent pair,?The gifts in common they would share.?The well was open to the sky.?As o'er its curb they keenly pry,?It seems a tunnel piercing through,?From sky to sky, from blue to blue;?And, at its nether mouth, each sees?A brace of their antipodes,?With earnest faces peering up,?As if themselves might seek the cup.?'Ha!' said the elder, with a laugh,?'We need not share it by the half.?The mystery is clear to me;?That richer gift to all is free.?Be only as that water true,?And then the whole belongs to you.'
That truth itself was worth so much,?It cannot be supposed that such.?A pair of lads were satisfied;?And yet they were before they died.?But whether they fish'd up the gold?I'm sure I never have been told.?Thus much they learn'd, I take for granted,--?And that was what their father wanted:--?If truth for wealth we sacrifice,?We throw away the richer prize.
PARTY STRIFE.
Among the beasts a feud arose.?The lion, as the story goes,?Once on a time laid down?His sceptre and his crown;?And in his stead the beasts elected,?As often as it suited them,?A sort of king pro tem.,--?Some animal they much respected.?At first they all concurr'd.?The horse, the stag, the unicorn,?Were chosen each in turn;?And then the noble bird?That looks undazzled at the sun.?But party strife began to run?Through burrow, den, and herd.?Some beasts proposed the patient ox,?And others named the cunning fox.?The quarrel came to bites and knocks;
Nor was it duly settled?Till many a beast high-mettled?Had bought an aching head,?Or, possibly, had bled.?The fox, as one might well suppose,?At last above his rival rose,?But, truth to say, his reign was bootless,?Of honour being rather fruitless.
All prudent beasts began to see?The throne a certain charm had lost,?And, won by strife, as it must be,?Was hardly worth the pains it cost.?So when his majesty retired,?Few worthy beasts his seat desired.?Especially now stood aloof?The wise of head, the swift of hoof,?The beasts whose breasts were battle-proof.?It consequently came to pass,?Not first, but, as we say, in fine,?For king the creatures chose the ass--?He, for prime minister the swine.
'Tis thus that party spirit?Is prone to banish merit.
THE CAT AND THE THRUSH.
A thrush that sang one rustic ode?Once made a garden his abode,?And gave the owner such delight,?He grew a special favourite.?Indeed, his landlord did his best?To make him safe from every foe;?The ground about his lowly nest?Was undisturb'd by spade or hoe.?And yet his song was still the same;?It even grew somewhat more tame.?At length Grimalkin spied the pet,?Resolved that he should suffer yet,?And laid his plan of devastation?So as to save his reputation;?For, in the house, from looks demure,?He pass'd for honest, kind, and pure.?Professing search of mice and moles,?He through the garden daily strolls,?And never seeks our thrush to catch;?But when his consort comes to hatch,?Just eats the young ones in a batch.?The sadness of the pair bereaved?Their generous guardian sorely grieved.?But yet it could not be believed?His faithful cat was in the wrong,?Though so the thrush said in his song.?The cat was therefore favour'd still?To walk the garden at his will;?And hence the birds, to shun the pest,?Upon a pear-tree built their nest.?Though there it cost them vastly more,?'Twas vastly better than before.?And Gaffer Thrush directly found?His throat, when raised above the ground,?Gave forth a softer, sweeter sound.?New tunes, moreover, he had caught,?By perils and afflictions taught,?And found new things to sing about:?New scenes had brought new talents out.?So, while, improved beyond a doubt,?His own old song more clearly rang,?Far better than themselves he sang?The chants and trills of other birds;?He even mock'd Grimalkin's words?With such delightful humour that?He gain'd the Christian name of Cat.
Let Genius tell in verse and prose.?How much to praise and friends it owes.?Good sense may be, as I suppose,?As much indebted to its foes.

In 1844 Mr. Wright wrote the Preface to the first collected edition of the works of the poet J. G. Whittier; and soon after he seems to have become completely absorbed in politics, and in the mighty anti-slavery struggle, which constituted the greater part of the politics of the United States in those and many succeeding years. He became a journalist in the anti-slavery cause; and, in 1850, he wrote a trenchant answer to Mr. Carlyle's then just published "Latter Day Pamphlets." Later on, slavery having been at length abolished, he appeared as a writer in yet another field, publishing several works, one as lately as 1877, on life-assurance.
London, 1881.

ADVERTISEMENT
To The First Edition Of This Translation.
[Boston, U.S.A., 1841.]
Four years ago, I dropped into Charles de Behr's repository of foreign books, in Broadway, New