Chapter 1

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THE TALES AND NOVELS OF J. DE LA FONTAINE

Volume 7.

Contains: The Falcon The Little Dog

THE FALCON

I RECOLLECT, that lately much I blamed, The sort of lover, avaricious named; And if in opposites we reason see, The liberal in paradise should be. The rule is just and, with the warmest zeal, To prove the fact I to the CHURCH appeal.

IN Florence once there dwelled a gentle youth, Who loved a certain beauteous belle with truth; O'er all his actions she had full controul;-- To please he would have sold his very soul. If she amusements wished, he'd lavish gold, Convinced in love or war you should be bold; The cash ne'er spare:--invincible its pow'rs, O'erturning walls or doors where'er it show'rs. The precious ore can every thing o'ercome; 'Twill silence barking curs: make servants dumb; And these can render eloquent at will:-- Excel e'en Tully in persuasive skill; In short he'd leave no quarter unsubdued, Unless therein the fair he could include.

SHE stood th' attack howe'er, and Frederick failed; His force was vain whenever he assailed; Without the least return his wealth he spent: Lands, houses, manors of immense extent, Were ev'ry now and then to auction brought; To gratify his love was all he thought.

THE rank of 'squire till lately he had claimed; Now scarcely was he even mister named; Of wealth by Cupid's stratagems bereft, A single farm was all the man had left; Friends very few, and such as God alone, Could tell if friendship they might not disown; The best were led their pity to express; 'Twas all he got: it could not well be less; To lend without security was wrong, And former favours they'd forgotten long; With all that Frederick could or say or do, His liberal conduct soon was lost to view.

WITH Clytia he no longer was received, Than while he was a man of wealth believed; Balls, concerts, op'ras, tournaments, and plays, Expensive dresses, all engaging ways, Were used to captivate this lady fair, While scarcely one around but in despair, Wife, widow, maid, his fond affection sought; To gain him, ev'ry wily art was brought; But all in vain:--by passion overpow'red, The belle, whose conduct others would have soured, To him appeared a goddess full of charms, Superior e'en to Helen, in his arms; From whence we may conclude, the beauteous dame Was always deaf to Fred'rick's ardent flame.

ENAMOURED of the belle, his lands he sold; The family estates were turned to gold; And many who the purchases had made, With pelf accumulated by their trade, Assumed the airs of men of noble birth:-- Fair subjects oft for ridicule and mirth!

RICH Clytia was, and her good spouse, 'tis said, Had lands which far and wide around were spread; No cash nor presents she would ever take, Yet suffered Frederick splendid treats to make, Without designing recompense to grant, Or being more than merely complaisant.

ALREADY, if my mem'ry do not fail, I've said, the youth's estates were put to sale, To pay for feasts the fair to entertain, And what he'd left was only one domain, A petty farm to which he now retired; Ashamed to show where once so much admired, And wretched too, a prey to lorn despair, Unable to obtain by splendid care, A beauty he'd pursued six years and more, And should for ever fervently adore. His want of merit was the cause he thought, That she could never to his wish be brought, While from him not a syllable was heard, Against the lovely belle his soul preferred.

'MID poverty oft Fred'rick sighed and wept; A toothless hag--his only servant kept; His kitchen cold; (where commonly he dwelled;) A pretty decent horse his stable held; A falcon too; and round about the grange, Our quondam 'squire repeatedly would range, Where oft, to melancholy, he was led, To sacrifice the game which near him fed; By Clytia's cruelty the gun was seized, And feathered victims black chagrin appeased.

'TWAS thus the lover whiled his hours away; His heart-felt torments nothing could allay; Blessed if with fortune love he'd also lost, Which constantly his earthly comforts crossed; But this lorn passion preyed upon his mind:-- Where'er he rode, BLACK CARE would mount behind.

DEATH took at length the husband of the fair; An only son appointed was his heir, A sickly child, whose life, 'twas pretty plain, Could scarcely last till spring returned again, Which made the husband, by his will, decree, His wife the infant's successor should be, In case the babe at early years should die, Who soon grew worse and raised the widow's sigh.

TOO much affection parents ne'er can show:-- A mother's feelings none but mothers know.

FAIR Clytia round her child with anxious care, Watched day and night, and no expense would spare; Inquired if this or that would please his taste; What he desired should be procured with haste; But nothing would he have that she proposed; An ardent wish howe'er the boy disclosed, For Fred'rick's Falcon, and most anxious grew:-- Tear followed tear, and nothing else would do. When once a child has got a whim in brain, No peace, no rest, till he the boon obtain.

WE should observe our belle, near Fred'rick's cot, A handsome house and many lands had got; 'Twas there the lovely babe had lately heard, Most wondrous stories of the bird averred; No partridge e'er escaped its rapid wing:-- On every morn down numbers it would bring; No money for it would its owner take; Much grieved was Clytia such request to make. The man, for her, of wealth had been bereft; How ask the only treasure he had left? And him if she were led to importune, Could she expect that he'd accord the boon? Alas! ungratefully she oft repaid, His liberal treats, his concerts, serenade, And haughtily behaved from first to last: How be so bold, (reflecting on the past,) To see the man that she so ill had used? And ask a favour?--could she be excused? But then her child!--perhaps his life 'twould save; Naught would he take; the falcon she must crave.

THAT her sweet babe might be induced to eat, So meant the bird of Fred'rick to intreat; Her boy was heard continually to cry, Unless he had the falcon, he should die.

THESE reasons strongly with the mother weighed; Her visit to the 'squire was not delayed; With fond affection for her darling heir, One morn, alone she sought the lorn repair.

TO Fred'rick's eye an angel she appeared; But shame he felt, that she, his soul revered, Should find him poor:--no servants to attend, Nor means to give a dinner to a friend. The poverty in which he now was viewed, Distressed his mind and all his griefs renewed. Why come? said he; what led you thus to trace, An humble slave of your celestial face? A villager, a wretched being here; Too great the honour doubtless must appear; 'Twas somewhere else you surely meant to go? The lady in a moment answered no. Cried he, I've neither cook nor kettle left; Then how can I receive you, thus bereft? But you have bread, said Clytia:--that will do;-- The lover quickly to the poultry flew, In search of eggs; some bacon too he found; But nothing else, except the hawk renowned, Which caught his eye, and instantly was seized, Slain, plucked, and made a fricassee that pleased.

MEANWHILE the house-keeper for linen sought; Knives, forks, plates, spoons, cups, glass and chairs she brought; The fricassee was served, the dame partook, And on the dish with pleasure seemed to look.

THE dinner o'er, the widow then resolved, To ask the boon which in her mind resolved. She thus begun:--good sir, you'll think me mad, To come and to your breast fresh trouble add; I've much to ask, and you will feel surprise, That one, for whom your love could ne'er suffice, Should now request your celebrated bird; Can I expect the grant?--the thought 's absurd But pardon pray a mother's anxious fear; 'Tis for my child:--his life to me is dear. The falcon solely can the infant save; Yet since to you I nothing ever gave, For all your kindness oft on me bestowed; Your fortune wasted:--e'en your nice abode, Alas! disposed of, large supplies to raise, To entertain and please in various ways: I cannot hope this falcon to obtain; For sure I am the expectation's vane; No, rather perish child and mother too; Than such uneasiness should you pursue: Allow howe'er this parent, I beseech, Who loves her offspring 'yond the pow'r of speech, Or language to express, her only boy, Sole hope, sole comfort, all her earthly joy, True mother like, to seek her child's relief, And in your breast deposit now her grief. Affection's pow'r none better know than you,-- How few to love were ever half so true! From such a bosom I may pardon crave Soft pity's ever with the good and brave!

ALAS! the wretched lover straight replied, The bird was all I could for you provide; 'Twas served for dinner.--Dead?--exclaimed the dame, While trembling terror overspread her frame. No jest, said he, and from the soul I wish, My heart, instead of that, had been the dish; But doomed alas! am I by fate, 'tis clear, To find no grace with her my soul holds dear: I'd nothing left; and when I saw the bird, To kill it instantly the thought occurred; Those naught we grudge nor spare to entertain, Who o'er our feeling bosoms sov'reign reign: All I can do is speedily to get, Another falcon: easily they're met; And by to-morrow I'll the bird procure. No, Fred'rick, she replied, I now conjure You'll think no more about it; what you've done Is all that fondness could have shown a son; And whether fate has doomed the child to die, Or with my prayers the pow'rs above comply; For you my gratitude will never end-- Pray let us hope to see you as a friend.

THEN Clytia took her leave, and gave her hand; A proof his love no more she would withstand. He kissed and bathed her fingers with his tears; The second day grim death confirmed their fears:

THE mourning lasted long and mother's grief; But days and months at length bestowed relief; No wretchedness so great, we may depend, But what, to time's all-conqu'ring sithe will bend:

TWO famed physicians managed with such care; That they recovered her from wild despair, And tears gave place to cheerfulness and joy:- The one was TIME the other Venus' Boy. Her hand fair Clytia on the youth bestowed, As much from love as what to him she owed.

LET not this instance howsoe'r mislead; 'Twere wrong with hope our fond desires to feed, And waste our substance thus:--not all the FAIR, Possess of gratitude a decent share. With this exception they appear divine; In lovely WOMAN angel-charms combine; The whole indeed I do not here include; Alas; too many act the jilt and prude. When kind, they're ev'ry blessing found below: When otherwise a curse we often know.

THE LITTLE DOG

THE key, which opes the chest of hoarded gold. Unlocks the heart that favours would withhold. To this the god of love has oft recourse, When arrows fail to reach the secret source, And I'll maintain he's right, for, 'mong mankind, Nice presents ev'ry where we pleasing find; Kings, princes, potentates, receive the same, And when a lady thinks she's not to blame, To do what custom tolerates around; When Venus' acts are only Themis' found, I'll nothing 'gainst her say; more faults than one, Besides the present, have their course begun.

A MANTUAN judge espoused a beauteous fair: Her name was Argia:--Anselm was her care, An aged dotard, trembling with alarms, While she was young, and blessed with seraph charms. But, not content with such a pleasing prize, His jealousy appeared without disguise, Which greater admiration round her drew, Who doubtless merited, in ev'ry view, Attention from the first in rank or place So elegant her form, so fine her face.

'TWOULD endless prove, and nothing would avail, Each lover's pain minutely to detail: Their arts and wiles; enough 'twill be no doubt, To say the lady's heart was found so stout, She let them sigh their precious hours away, And scarcely seemed emotion to betray.

WHILE at the judge's, Cupid was employed, Some weighty things the Mantuan state annoyed, Of such importance, that the rulers meant, An embassy should to the Pope be sent. As Anselm was a judge of high degree, No one so well embassador could be.

'TWAS with reluctance he agreed to go, And be at Rome their mighty Plenipo'; The business would be long, and he must dwell Six months or more abroad, he could not tell. Though great the honour, he should leave his dove, Which would be painful to connubial love. Long embassies and journeys far from home Oft cuckoldom around induce to roam.

THE husband, full of fears about his wife; Exclaimed--my ever--darling, precious life, I must away; adieu, be faithful pray, To one whose heart from you can never stray But swear to me, my duck, (for, truth to tell, I've reason to be jealous of my belle,) Now swear these sparks, whose ardour I perceive, Have sighed without success, and I'll believe. But still your honour better to secure, From slander's tongue, and virtue to ensure, I'd have you to our country-house repair; The city quit:--these sly gallants beware; Their presents too, accurst invention found, With danger fraught, and ever much renowned; For always in the world, where lovers move, These gifts the parent of assentment prove. 'Gainst those declare at once; nor lend an ear To flattery, their cunning sister-peer. If they approach, shut straight both ears and eyes; For nothing you shall want that wealth supplies; My store you may command; the key behold, Where I've deposited my notes and gold. Receive my rents; expend whate'er you please; I'll look for no accounts; live quite at ease; I shall be satisfied with what you do, If naught therein to raise a blush I view; You've full permission to amuse your mind; Your love, howe'er, for me alone's designed; That, recollect, must be for my return, For which our bosoms will with ardour burn.

THE good man's bounty seemingly was sweet; All pleasures, one excepted, she might greet; But that, alas! by bosoms unpossessed, No happiness arises from the rest: His lady promised ev'ry thing required:-- Deaf, blind, and cruel,--whosoe'er admired; And not a present would her hand receive At his return, he fully might believe, She would be found the same as when he went, Without gallant, or aught to discontent.

HER husband gone, she presently retired Where Anselm had so earnestly desired; The lovers came, but they were soon dismissed, And told, from visits they must all desist; Their assiduities were irksome grown, And she was weary of their lovesick tone. Save one, they all were odious to the fair; A handsome youth, with smart engaging air; But whose attentions to the belle were vain; In spite of arts, his aim he could not gain; His name was Atis, known to love and arms, Who grudged no pains, could he possess her charms. Each wile he tried, and if he'd kept to sighs, No doubt the source is one that never dries; But often diff'rent with expense 'tis found; His wealth was wasted rapidly around He wretched grew; at length for debt he fled, And sought a desert to conceal his head. As on the road he moved, a clown he met, Who with his stick an adder tried to get, From out a thicket, where it hissing lay, And hoped to drive the countryman away: Our knight his object asked; the clown replied, To slay the reptile anxiously I tried; Wherever met, an adder I would kill: The race should be extinct if I'd my will.

WHY would'st thou, friend, said Atis, these destroy? God meant that all should freely life enjoy. The youthful knight for reptiles had, we find, Less dread than what prevails with human kind; He bore them in his arms:--they marked his birth; From noble Cadmus sprung, who, when on earth, At last, to serpent was in age transformed; The adder's bush the clown no longer stormed; No more the spotted reptile sought to stay, But seized the time, and quickly crept away.

AT length our lover to a wood retired; To live concealed was what the youth desired; Lorn silence reigned, except from birds that sang, And dells that oft with sweetest echo rang. There HAPPINESS and frightful MIS'RY lay, Quite undistinguished: classed with beasts of prey; That growling prowled in search of food around: There Atis consolation never found. LOVE thither followed, and, however viewed, 'Twas vain to hope his passion to elude; Retirement fed the tender, ardent flame, And irksome ev'ry minute soon became. Let us return, cried he, since such our fate: 'Tis better, Atis, bear her frowns and hate, Than of her beauteous features lose the view; Ye nightingales and streams, ye woods adieu! When far from her I neither see nor hear: 'Tis she alone my senses still revere; A slave I am, who fled her dire disdain; Yet seek once more to wear the cruel chain.

AS near some noble walls our knight arrived, Which fairy-hands to raise had once contrived, His eyes beheld, at peep of early morn, When bright Aurora's beams the earth adorn, A beauteous nymph in royal robes attired, Of noble mien, and formed to be admired, Who t'ward him drew, with pleasing, gracious air, While he was wrapped in thought, a prey to care.

SAID she, I'd have you, Atis, happy be; 'Tis in my pow'r, and this I hope to see; A fairy greet me, Manto is my name:-- Your friend, and one you've served unknown:--the same My fame you've heard, no doubt; from me proceeds The Mantuan town, renowned for ancient deeds; In days of yore I these foundations laid, Which in duration, equal I have made, To those of Memphis, where the Nile's proud course Majestically flows from hidden source. The cruel Parcae are to us unknown; We wond'rous magick pow'rs have often shown; But wretched, spite of this, appears our lot Death never comes, though various ills we've got, For we to human maladies are prone, And suffer greatly oft, I freely own.

ONCE, in each week to serpents we are changed; Do you remember how you here arranged, To save an adder from a clown's attack? 'Twas I, the furious rustick wished to hack, When you assisted me to get away; For recompense, my friend, without delay, I'll you procure the kindness of the fair, Who makes you love and drives you to despair: We'll go and see her:--be assured from me, Before two days are passed, as I foresee, You'll gain, by presents, Argia and the rest, Who round her watch, and are the suitor's pest. Grudge no expense, be gen'rous, and be bold, Your handfuls scatter, lavish be of gold. Assured you shall not want the precious ore; For I command the whole of Plutus' store, Preserved, to please me, in the shades below; This charmer soon our magick pow'r shall know.

THE better to approach the cruel belle, And to your suit her prompt consent compel, Myself transformed you'll presently perceive; And, as a little dog, I'll much achieve, Around and round I'll gambol o'er the lawn, And ev'ry way attempt to please and fawn, While you, a pilgrim, shall the bag-pipe play; Come, bring me to the dame without delay.

NO sooner said, the lover quickly changed, Together with the fairy, as arranged; A pilgrim he, like Orpheus, piped and sang; While Manto, as a dog, skipt, jumped, and sprang.

THEY thus proceeded to the beauteous dame; Soon valets, maids, and others round them came; The dog and pilgrim gave extreme delight And all were quite diverted at the sight.

THE lady heard the noise, and sent her maid, To learn the reason why they romped and played: She soon returned and told the lovely belle, A spaniel danced, and even spoke so well, it ev'ry thing could fully understand, And showed obedience to the least command. 'Twere better come herself and take a view: The things were wond'rous that the dog could do.