Read Ebook: Literary Fables of Yriarte by Iriarte Tom S De Devereux George H George Humphrey Translator

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Ebook has 377 lines and 27333 words, and 8 pages

INTRODUCTION.

Long years ago, in far-off land, When every brute beast had a way, What he thought and felt, to say In language all could understand-- The sagacious Elephant observed Among these creatures many a failing, And gross abuses, too, prevailing, Which strenuous reform deserved. He called them all, from far and near, His strictures on their ways to hear. With reverence the most profound His long proboscis swept the ground; In careful phrase, well learned by heart, He then discharged the censor's part-- A thousand silly foibles noted, A thousand vicious actions quoted; Envy, working sore vexation, Ostentatious insolence, Idleness, procrastination, The arrogance of ignorance.

His sound and noble counsel stirs The hearts of many listeners, Accepting, with due reverence, The dictates of his generous sense. The guileless Lamb and thrifty Ant, The Bee, frugal and provident, The trusty Setter, and the Dove, Ever faithful to her love, The obedient Horse, the Linnet shy, And the simple Butterfly. But, of the audience, a part not small Declared that their offended pride Such language plain could not abide; Not they--no, not at all. The Tiger and rapacious Wolf, Opening their lank jaws' bloody gulf, Against the adviser rave; His vile abuse, among the crowd, The venomous Serpent hissed aloud; While, all around, the whispering tone Of Wasp and Hornet, Fly and Drone, A murmuring echo gave. The mischievous Balm-cricket leapt From the tumultuous throng; The Locust spread his clanging wing, His greedy conscience felt the sting; The wriggling Caterpillar crept His sneaking way along; The Weasel arched his spiteful back; The Fox kept silence shrewd; The Monkey, sauciest of the pack, Mocked, with grimaces rude.

The stately Elephant looked down Upon the vexed turmoil: "To each and all and yet to none,"-- Spake his calm voice above the broil,-- "These censures I apply; Let him who winces put them on; Who not, hear quietly."

Whoever may my fables read, This truth important let him heed: That to all nations--not to any one-- And to all times, they speak. The world has shown alike The faults at which they strike In each revolving week. Then--since the warning finger Points at no destined head-- Who feels the censure linger Must sup on his own bread.

THE SILKWORM AND SPIDER.

At his cocoon a busy Silkworm labored; A Spider, who with all her might was spinning Hard by, with laugh malicious, thus bespoke him. In silly exultation tasks comparing: "What think you of my web, good Master Silkworm? This very morning I began it, early, And now, mid-day will see the job completed. Just see how fine and beautiful it is, too!" Coolly replied the precious fabric's workman: "'T is true--your labor tells us its own story."

Let those who boast their numerous vapid volumes, Know that 'tis quality, not bulk, that's precious. What costs small labor is of smaller value.

THE BEAR, THE MONKEY AND THE HOG.

Now, Bruin, anxious to excel, Before the Monkey showed his skill. "How do I dance, friend? Prithee tell." "Ill," said the Monkey, "very ill."

"I am afraid you look on me," Said Bruin, "with a jealous eye. Now, that I move quite gracefully, And know the step, can you deny?"

A jolly Pig was standing by, And shouted,--"Bravo! nobly done! A better dancer, sure am I, Was never seen beneath the sun."

He spoke. But Bruin thoughtful stood, And soberly the grunter eyed; At last, in sad and humble mood, To his loud praise he thus replied:

"When Monkey did my dancing slight I did not much the censure heed; But now I see, by your delight, It must be miserable, indeed."

Authors, who seek a noble fame, Mark well the moral of my verse! That's bad which worthy judges blame; What bad applaud, is worse.

THE DRONES AND THE BEE.

No other expedient well could they see, In the eyes of all animals better to stand-- Though lazy and stupid as well they could be-- Than to try, at the making of honey, their hand.

But the labor proved very distasteful, indeed; The workmen, a rude, inexperienced crew; They began to be doubtful if they should succeed Very well in attaining the object in view.

With pomp and with honor they lauded her name, In funeral obsequies, brilliant and grand; Panegyrics immortal they buzzed to her fame, For the whitest of wax and honey so bland.

This done, with much self-satisfaction they stop. But a Bee said in scorn, "Is this all you can do? Of the honey I make, not one single drop Would I give for the fuss of your beggarly crew."

THE TWO PARROTS AND THE MAGPIE.

A dame from St. Domingo Brought with her Parrots twain. Now this island is half Gallic, Half owns the flag of Spain; Thus, in two different languages, The Parrots talked amain, Till the gallery where their cages hung Discordant was as Babylon. Soon the French and the Castilian They mixed up in such a bother That, in the end, no soul could tell If it were one or 't other. The French Parrot from the Spaniard Took a contribution small; While the Spanish bird changed nigh each word For the idiom of Gaul.

Their mistress parts the babblers-- And the Frenchman kept not long The phrases he had borrowed From less fashionable tongue. The other still refuses His jargon to give over; But new merit rather chooses In this hotchpotch to discover-- Exulting that he thus can vary The range of his vocabulary.

In mongrel French, one day, He eagerly begged after The scrapings of the pot; With hearty roar of laughter, From balcony across the way, A Magpie shouted out At the folly of the lout.

The Parrot answered pertly, As with argument conclusive,-- "You are nothing but a Purist, Of taste foolishly exclusive."--? "Thanks for the compliment," quoth Magpie, curtly.

Many men, in sooth, there are, Like the Parrots, everywhere; With their own language not content, Would a mongrel tongue invent.

THE SHOWMAN'S MONKEY AND HIS MASTER.

The story ran: That it was a Monkey skilful In thousand tricks, who served a puppet showman: That thought one day, in absence of his master, To ask some beasts--his own especial cronies-- To witness all his entertaining juggles. First he played dead man; then, like Harlequin, Danced on the rope with somerset and shuffle; Made desperate leaps, exhibited the sword-dance, On hands and feet alternate spun in circles; Last, did the Prussian manual, gun on shoulder. With these and other tricks he long amused them. But, better yet than any,--since the evening Had now set in, nor yet the audience wearied,-- An exhibition with the magic lanthorn He now would give, as he had seen his master.

When, by preliminary explanation, He fixed attention,--as is showman's custom,-- Behind the lanthorn being duly stationed, From side to side he shoved the painted glasses, Each scene loquaciously, the while, explaining.

The chamber was all darkened, as is usual; But the spectators strained their eyes attentive In vain, for none could see the brilliant wonders Which Monkey was so volubly announcing.

All were perplexed, and soon arose suspicion That these proceedings were but empty humbug. The Monkey, most of all, was disconcerted; When Master Pedro, entering unexpected, And,--what was going on at once perceiving,-- Half laughing and half angry, said to Monkey, "What is the use of all your endless gabble, You fool, if you forget to light your lanthorn?"

Pardon my hint, ye deep and subtile writers, Who boast to be beyond our comprehensions; Your brains are dark as the unlighted lanthorn.

THE CATHEDRAL BELL AND THE LITTLE BELL.

In a certain cathedral a huge bell there hung, That only on solemn occasions was rung; Its echoes majestic, by strokes three or four, Now and then, in grave cadence, were heard--never more. For this stately reserve and its wonderful weight, Throughout the whole parish, its glory was great.

In the district the city held under its sway, Of a few wretched rustics, a hamlet there lay; And a poor little church, with a belfry so small, That you hardly would call it a belfry at all. There a little cracked cow-bell, that in it was swinging, For the poor little neighborhood did all the ringing.

Indeed, it is true, in a general way, Asses may not be known if they never should bray, And for a wise animal safely may pass; If one opens his mouth, then we know he's an ass.

THE ASS AND THE FLUTE.

THE ANT AND THE FLEA.

A curious affectation some put on Of knowing everything they chance upon. Whatever matter they may hear or see, However new or excellent it be, Of small account and easy always deem it, And never worthy of their praise esteem it. This sort of folks I cannot let go by; But, for their foolish pertness, I shall try, Sure as I live, to show them up in rhyme, If I should waste on them a whole day's time.

The Ant was once relating to the Flea The wholesome lesson of her industry; How, by her labor, her support she gains; How builds the ant-hills; with what care and pains She gathers up the scattered grains for food; And how all labor for the common good; With other instances of enterprise, That might with many pass for idle lies, If 't were not every day before our eyes.

To all her statements still the Flea demurred,-- Yet could not contradict a single word-- With talk like this: "Ah, yes, undoubtedly; I grant it; certainly. O, so I see! 'T is plain. I think so, too, myself. Of course. All right. I understand. There's better and there worse."

With such evasions, patience growing thin, Ready almost to jump out of her skin, Unto the Flea she answered,--"Now, my friend, To go with me, I beg you, condescend. And since, in such grand fashion, you assume All this so mighty easy to be done, Give us yourself, by way of good example, Of your own great abilities, a sample."

With impudence unmoved, replied the Flea: "Pooh, nonsense! Think you thus to puzzle me? Who couldn't, if they chose to try? But, stay,-- I've an engagement now. Another day We'll think of it,"--and lightly leaped away.

THE WALL-FLOWER AND THE THYME.

A Wall-flower spoke,--as I have somewhere read,-- A Thyme-plant growing in a neighboring bed, In the flower language, scornfully addressing: "Heaven help you, Thyme! 'Tis really distressing! Though the most fragrant of all plants, I own, Scarce a hand's breadth above the ground you've grown."

"Dear friend, that I'm of humble height, 'tis true, But without help I grow. I pity you, That cannot rise, even a hand's breadth high, Without a wall to climb by, if you try."

THE RABBITS AND THE DOGS.

A Rabbit, whom Two Dogs pursue, Into the copse In terror flew.

Out of his burrow, At the clatter, A comrade sprung.-- "Friend, what's the matter?"

"I see them yonder Through the furze. But they 're not hounds."-- "What then?"--"They're curs."

"Curs, hey! Then so Is my grandmother! You do not know The one from t' other."

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