Free eBook, AI Voice, AudioBook: Fables of La Fontaine — a New Edition, with Notes by Jean de La Fontaine

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THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE

Translated From The French

By Elizur Wright.

A New Edition, With Notes

By J. W. M. Gibbs.

1882

THE FIRST BOOK

The Moth and the Flame

The Moth, when she was young, was a heedless thing, And gave but little thought to what the future might bring. She loved the pleasant sun, the moon's mild silver ray, And danced in dreamy bliss the livelong summer day. But when the evening came, and darkness filled the air, A sudden fatal charm a dazzling light laid bare. It was a taper's flame, that burned with steady glow, And to its piercing brilliance all her wishes flow.

"What beauty!" cried the Moth, "What perfect majesty! A finer star than this the heavens cannot see! I'll risk all for a glimpse of such a glorious sight; I'll fly to touch the thing that sheds so pure a light." Her mother, wisely grave, warned her against the lure: "My child," she said, "that fire is pleasing, but impure; A fickle, hungry beast, whose kisses are of death; It shines to lure the fool, and steal away his breath."

The Moth, like many girls who deem their mothers slow, Thought this a tedious lecture, quite unsuited to her woe. "The world is full of ills," she thought, "that none can flee; And if I must be burned, what better cause than see The finest thing on earth, before I turn to dust? I'll trust my eager wings, and banish timid mistrust."

With that, she flew away, a dizzy, thoughtless speck, And neared the lovely blaze, forgetting risk and wreck. She circled round and round, intoxicated quite, Drawn closer by the splendor of the tempting light. She touched the burning wick; a sharp and sudden pain Cried out against the folly of her ardent brain. Then, wounded, scorched, and weak, she tumbled to the floor, And mourned the foolish choice she could not now restore.

"Ah, mother," she complained, with hardly breath to speak, "You told the truth indeed, and wisdom made you meek! That beauty which I sought was but a burning snare; I pay too dear a price for one short, fatal stare."

Moral

If those who seek their pleasure heed not wise advice, They find their own demise, however sweet the vice.

The Ant and the Grasshopper

The Grasshopper, by chance, one summer's day, Was fiddling on his strings, and singing to the play Of breezes soft and warm, when he espied an Ant, Whose labor ceased him not, though he made slow advance. The Ant was dragging by a crumb of bread so grand, Which took the strength of ten to move across the land.

The Grasshopper, amused to see such toil intense, Called out, "Good sir, pray stop, and use your common sense! What need of such a hoard? The weather is so fine; Come dance a jig with me, and sip the nectar wine!" The Ant looked up and said, "I'm very much obliged; But winter soon will come, and all the world disguised In snow and bitter frost; then worms and seeds will cease; I gather now to live, and purchase future peace."

"Indeed!" the singer cried, and laughed with airy grace, "I see no winter yet upon this sunny place! But if you fear the cold, then dance a jig or two; A little present ease is due to me and you." The Ant, however, turned, and to his burrow went, Nor broke his earnest pace, nor changed his firm intent.

When chilly winds blew hard, and ice began to form, The Grasshopper, unfed, was trembling in the storm. His fiddle frozen fast, his gay coat thrown aside, He starved within his shell, with nowhere left to hide. He knocked upon the door where formerly he saw The Ant so busy then, and begged a helping paw.

"Good neighbor," said the poor musician, weak and thin, "A crumb, a little seed, would keep my life within! I promise in the spring I'll pay you back with praise, And music such as ne'er was heard in former days." The Ant replied, "You sang the livelong summer through; Now dance, if you see fit, and find your music new."

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