Aesop, in Rhyme by Aesop (ready player one ebook .txt) 📖
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A young mouse, who had nothing seen,
Was nearly caught; You shall hear how
He told his mother the adventure—
He said, "Pray, listen, now:
I started out to frolic at a venture,
When two fine animals appeared
Before my eyes,
And filled me with surprise.
One was soft, benign, and sweet,
The other, turbulent, and full of inquietude,
Had a loud voice, piercing and rude,
And on his head a piece of flesh.
A sort of arm raised him up in the air,
As though to fly out of a mesh—
His tail was spread out like a fan."
Now it was a cock of which our little mouse,
Made to his mother this fine picture,
Describing him like an enthusiast.
"He beat," said he, "his flanks,
With his two arms,
Making such a noise and such a din,
That, frightened half to death,
I hurried in.
Although I pique myself upon my courage
And heartily I cursed him in my heart,
For but for him, I'd taken part,
In conversation with the gentle creature,
Who my advances would encourage.
She is velvety, like us, with a long tail,
A modest look, and sparkling eyes,
And is much like a rat. She spies
The objects round her. I turned pale
On hearing the other creature's din,
Or else I should have asked her in."
"My child," said the mother, "this last was a cat,
An enemy of every mouse and rat.
The other a cock, whom do not fear,
Perhaps we may dine on him here."
Take care, whatever they may seem,
Of judging people by their mien.
The animals, on the death of the lion,
During his life, prince of the country,
Resolved to elect a king to try on
The regal crown, and chose a monkey.
Because after the animals had all
Tried on the regal crown, or let it fall,
Because their heads were all too big,
Or too small, too horned, or too thick,
The monkey slipped through it;
And with it cut up many a trick,
Which they all thought refined,
And chose him with one mind.
Only the fox regretted the election,
And swore to reign in his defection.
He came and made his compliment;
"Sire," said he, "I know a treasure meant
For your high majesty. I will show
The spot where it lies hid."
The monkey went at Reynard's bid—
And was caught in a trap.
The fox exclaimed,
"How do you think to govern us,
When, after all, with all your fuss,
You cannot well, do what you may,
Keep e'en yourself out of harm's way."
The animals agreed,
That royal power suits very few indeed.
An ass accompanied by a horse uncourteous,
Who only had his harness on his back;
And the poor jackass staggered
'Neath the load of vegetable and a pack;
He begged the horse to help him,
If he could—
But not a single bit,
The other would.
"I ask," said the poor beast,
"A little pity—
Help me at least,
To reach the city."
The horse refused,
And got his due,
For the ass died.
The farmer's man
Stripped off the skin of honest Ben,
And made the horse, whom they espied,
Drag on the skin and the cart beside.
MORAL.'Tis wise to lend our aid
To others in distress,
We often thus are made
The means of happiness.
The churlish, unkind man
His neighbor's death may cause,
And have to help his family,
Through taxes and the laws.
An astrologer, of high ambition,
While star-gazing fell down
Into a well. "Sage gentleman,"
Remarked the people of the town,
"How did you think to read the stars, old man,
When you cannot preserve your own position."
This adventure in itself, without going further,
Might serve as a lesson, to most of mankind,
For of us mortals, a certain part inclines,
To the belief, that, with the help of mind,
The book of Destiny may easily be read,
But this book, by Homer and his disciples sung,
What is it called but Chance, by ancients,
And by us Christians named Providence instead.
Now in Chance there can no science be,
Or why should it be called by them Chance—
And things uncertain, who knows in advance?
If all depends upon the fixed decree,
Of Him who does all things, and nothing does unwisely.
How should we read his will,
And know that which from us he would conceal?
Wherefore watch the stars so nicely,
To know how to avoid inevitable woe;
Or how, in future times, our fate will go;
To make us, in the midst of pleasure, sad,
Or with predicted evil, drive us mad,
Convert all blessings into curses dire?
Is this the knowledge to which we aspire,
Is it an error or a crime thus to believe
That future destiny can thus be known?
In place of star-gazing above our head,
Let us confide ourselves to the Great One.
The firmament exists, the stars go on their way,
And the sun shines upon us every day;
And every day, the day is lost in night,
Without our knowing aught else from the sight.
That the seasons come, the crops are ripe,
And in what wood we should look out for snipe,
And some few other things, but for the change
Of day to night, by which the world doth range,
It has not aught to do with Destiny.
Quacks, and ye compilers of horoscopes,
Quit all the courts of princes in Europe,
And take with you all mischief makers
You deserve belief no more than they do.
MORAL.This astrologer in the well,
Resembles all of his false art,
Who while they are in danger, dream
That in the stars, they read the happiest theme.
A scourge which spread terror,
Invented by heaven to punish earth—
The plague (if to name it be no error)
Was making every animal
To curse his birth.
In one day it might have enriched Acheron,
And upon beasts made busy war.
Amongst them all there was not one,
But, sick and ailing, was complaining sore;
All did not die, but each was ill—
Not one strove now to eat his fill,
No meat excited them to taste,
Nor did the wolves again lay waste,
The innocent prey.
Even the doves fled from each other,
And cooed no more the live-long day.
The lion held war counsel—"My brother,"
Said he, addressing each in turn,
"I think that heaven hath allowed
This punishment on us to fall
For the sins we have disavowed.
Now I for one will confess all,
And let him who is most to blame,
Be slaughtered in the others' name.
Perhaps he may obtain a common cure,
For history tells us that in like cases,
The guilty die in others' places;
Let us not then be false to Nature,
Let us confess our faults—in fine
I will the first acknowledge mine;
And I avow, that oft I keep
A serious tax on harmless sheep.
What had they done,
In naught offended—
Yet I their quiet lives have ended.
Sometimes, with sorrow be it heard,
I e'en have eaten the shepherd,
And I acknowledge all—
And I will die like a quiet bird—
If my death keep you from your fall.
It must be hoped now in all justice,
That he who is most guilty perish."
"Sire," said the fox, "you are too good a king
To die for any trivial thing;
Your simples are too nice.
Eat sheep, and why not?
Is it a sin? is it a vice?
No, sire, you did them honor;
And as for shepherds, I desire,
That over us their false empire
Should cease, and we have all we want
Of sheep and fleece."
So said the fox, flatterers applaud,
The tiger, bear, and other powers they laud,
Even for their most violent offence.
All quarrelsome people,
Down to the mastiffs,
Were little saints.
But when the donkey's turn came on,
They heard him with many ifs.
He said, "I now remember
That by a monk's garden passing,
(It was late in December,
And my strength soon faints,)
I ate a leaf of some dry plant,
And e'en now I with terror pant."
They seized upon him and devoured,
And said he was the cause
Of heaven's anger being lowered.
With interested judges, right
Is always on the side of might.
It was in the home of the Olympian gods,
That bees first lodged, 'tis said,
On Mount Hymettus; and thitherwards
Came zephyrs with light tread.
When from the hives, the honey,
Had all been taken out,
As there remained naught but wax,
Some candles were, for money,
Carefully made and sold in packs.
One of these candles on a certain day
Seeing that clay by fire was turned to brick,
Thought he could harden his body the same;
And getting near the fire to try the trick,
This new Empedocles to flame condemned
Soon found of his philosophy the end.
A goat, a sheep, and a fat hog,
On the same cart were bound for the fair.
They lay as quietly as any log,
But were not seeking their amusement there.
They were to be sold, so says the story.
The carter, who his business knows,
Don't take them into town to see the shows.
Dame porker was inclined to squeal,
As though the butcher's knife she 'gan to feel.
Her grunts, and squeals, and cries
Were loud enough to deafen one,
The other animals more wise,
And better tempered, with surprise
Exclaimed, "have done!"
The carter to the porker turned,
"Where have you manners learned,
Why stun us all? Do you not see
That you're the noisiest of the three?
That sheep says not a word,
Nor can the young goat's voice be heard."
"But," said the hog, "they both are fools.
If like me they knew their fate,
They'd halloo out at greater rate,
The goat will only lose her milk,
The sheep his wool, but here, poor me,
I'm to be eaten, and know my destiny."
The porker was quite right,
But hallooing with all her might,
Was all too late,
And could not alter her sad fate.
By the bank of a river,
A heron walked out,
And in it were sporting,
Pike, mackerel and trout.
Now these fish with great ease,
Our bird might have caught,
But I'll wait till I'm hungry
The silly bird thought.
At last came his appetite,
"Now I'll eat," the bird cries,
And some tench from the bottom,
Just then he saw rise.
"But these are not good enough
At this time of day,"
And he waited for better
Till all swam away.
At eve almost starved
When all other means fail,
He was right glad to sup
On a poor little snail.
A foolish young lady,
Took one of her maids,
Who chanced to be black
As the ace of spades,
And said she'd have her washed white,
By the other maids;
She was put in a tub,
And with water and towels
Her skin they did rub,
Through a long summer day till the night;
But the more they did rub her,
The blacker she got;
And while they did scrub her,
She mourned her hard lot.
So the maids threw away
All their labor and care,
And the mistress gave up
Her fine scheme in despair.
A bear and gardener,
Who mutually tired
Of solitary life,
And were inspired,
With a warm friendship for each other,
Promised to be to one another,
Excellent friends, and so they were.
As for the death of the poor man
I'll tell you how it happened,
If I can.
The bear watching the gardener in his sleep—
Beholding on his head a fly,
And thinking it bad company,
Took up a stone and dropped it down,
Upon the fly 'tis true,
But broke the gardener's crown.
MORAL.To make our fortunes or to mend,
A most malignant enemy
Is better than a foolish friend.
The wing'd inhabitants of air
Waged on a time a direful war.
Not those, in budding groves
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