{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24108/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24108","id":"gutenberg_24108","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24108","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Children's Verse","Children's poetry","Fables"],"text":"FABLES IN RHYME FOR LITTLE FOLKS,\n\nAdapted from the French of La Fontaine.\n\nWritten by,\nW. T. Larned\n\nIllustrated by,\nJohn Rae.\n\nE-Book Created by Tyler Anderson,\nas a birthday present to little\nJohnny James Webb, on his first Birthday.\nI've arranged the images so they fit the story.\n\nTo All Little Americans\nWith The Hope That\nThey May Become Better Acquainted\nWith\nOur Friends, The French.\n\n\n\nA Preface For Parents\n\nLa Fontaine composed the most entertaining Fables ever\nwritten in any language, and made them a model of literary\nperfection; yet our translators and compilers have somehow\nneglected him. His Fables are lyric poetry of a high order,\nand this alone has doubtless been a barrier to a better\nacquaintance with his work when transferred to our own\ntongue. Done into prose, the Fables are no longer\nLa Fontaine, but take their place with the many\nrespectable, dull translations which English readers try to\nadmire because they are classics--though the soul that\nmade them such has been separated from the dead body.\n\nIt has seemed to me that while the full enjoyment of\nLa Fontaine must always be reserved for those who can\nread him in French, it might be possible at least to convey\nsomething of his originality and blithe spirit through the\nmedium of light verse. In making the attempt I am fully\naware of my temerity, and the criticism it will invite. To\nexcuse the one and to meet the other I have taken refuge\nin the term \"adaptation\"--even though the word applies\nonly in part to my paraphrases. Some of the Fables in\nthis book are translations in a true sense, and keep\nclosely to the text. From others I have erased such\npolitical, mythological and literary allusions (in which\nLa Fontaine abounds) as are either obsolete or\nunintelligible to a child.\n\nBut my chief literary sin--if sin it be--is twofold. In the first\nplace I have departed wholly from the metrical arrangements\nof the originals--substituting therefore a variety of forms in\nline and stanza that more accord with the modern and\nAmerican ear. In the second place I have had the\nhardihood--as in \"The Lion and The Gnat\"--to modify the\nelegance of the original with phrases more appropriate to\nour contemporary beasts. Animal talk, I feel sure, has lost\nsomething of its stateliness since the days when our\nFrench author overheard it. The Owl is no less pedantic\nperhaps, but the Lion certainly has declined in\nmajesty--along with our human kings.\n\nFor these offenses, La Fontaine--who forgave everyone--is\nbound to forgive me. The most good-humored Frenchmen,\nhe could condone all faults but dullness. That offense\nagainst French fundamental principles invariably put him\nto sleep--whether the bore who button-holed him was a\nsavant of the Sorbonne or just an ordinary ass.\n\nOne thing more. This little collection from his 240 Fables is\nmeant, first of all, for children. In assembling it no Fable\nwas admitted that has not been approved by generations\nof the young and old. No apologue addressed to the\nmature intelligence alone, or framed to fit the society\nof his day, is here included.\n\nMany books which men have agreed to call classics are\nseldom taken down from the shelves. It is otherwise with\nLa Fontaine. His Fables were eagerly read by the great\nmen and women of his time, and are still read and\nenjoyed all the world over.\n\nThe causes of this lasting popularity are not obscure. From\nthe earliest period--whether in India, Greece, Arabia or\nRome--the Fable has pleased and instructed mankind. It\ntold important truths, easily perceived, in an entertaining\nway; and often said more in a few words than could be\nsaid through any other kind of writing. Now, no one person\nis the author of the Fables we know so well. Aesop did not\nwrite the Fables bearing his name. There is even reason to\nbelieve that Aesop is himself a Fable. At any rate, the\nthings ascribed to him are the work of many hands, and\nhave undergone many changes. These old stories of\nanimals began to be written so long ago, and the history\nof them is so vague and confusing, that only in recent\nyears have scholars at last been able to trace them, and\nto fix their authorship.\n\nThe significant thing to keep in mind is that, for twentieth\ncentury readers, the best Fables are not merely the best\nones ever written, but the best ones re-written. In other\nwords, the Fable was for centuries an old story in a rough\nstate, and the writers who have made it most interesting\nare the writers who told it over again in a manner that\nmakes it Art. A Greek named Babrius, of whom almost\nnothing is known, is remembered because he collected\nand versified some of the so-called Fables of Aesop. A\nRoman slave named Phaedrus also put these Fables\ninto Latin verse; and his work to-day is a text book in\nour colleges.\n\nAmong modern writers, it was reserved for La Fontaine to\ntake these ancient themes and make them his own--just\nas Moliere, \"taking his own wherever he found it,\" borrowed\nfreely from the classics for his greatest plays; just as\nShakespeare re-formed forgotten tales with the glow and\nsplendor of surpassing genius, so La Fontaine turned to\nIndia, Greece, Italy, and furnishing the old Fables and\nfacetious tales, refreshed them with his originality. Some\nof them were his own inventions, but for the most part\nthey were \"Aesop\" and Phaedrus, made over by poetic\nart and vivified with a wit and humor characteristically\nFrench.\n\nBut if La Fontaine's fame endures, it is not alone that he\nwas the greatest lyric poet of a great literary period.\nApart from the wit and fancy of his creations--apart from\nthe philosophy, wisdom, and knowledge of human nature\nthat so delighted Moliere, Boileau and Racine--his Fables\ndisclose the goodness and simplicity of one who lived\nmuch with Nature, and cared nothing for the false\nsplendors of the court. Living most of his life in the\ncountry, the woods, and streams and fields had been a\nconstant source of inspiration. He saw animals through\nthe eyes of a naturalist and poet; and when he came to\nmake them talk, the little fishes \"talked like little\nfishes--not like whales\". With Shakespeare's banished\nFrenchman in the Forest of Arden, he\nFinds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,\nSermons in stones, and good in everything.\n\nAn anecdote often told of him aptly illustrates his habit\nof mind. He was late in coming to a fashionable dinner,\nand his excuse was this:\n\"I hope you will pardon me,\" he said. \"I was detained at\nthe funeral of an ant, and I could not come until the\nceremony was over.\"\n\nThis was not a pleasantry, but the truth. He had been\nwatching an ant-hill, and was so absorbed in observing\na dead ant carried off by the living colonists for burial\nthat he had forgotten his engagement.\n\nThe first six volumes of the Fables--published in 1668,\nwhen he was 47, and in Paris--were an immediate and\nbrilliant success, at a time when French genius was in\nfull flower. But the literary men of that golden age got\ntheir pecuniary reward not from the public, but from\npatrons. Later in life, when La Fontaine at last was\ngraciously recognized by the grand monarch, he\nappeared before the royal presence to receive his due.\nEven then, with his usual absentmindedness, he forgot\nto bring the book he was to present, and left behind him\nin the carriage the purse of gold the King bestowed\nupon him.\n\nHowever, the Fables brought him much in fame and\nfriendship. Everybody loved La Fontaine. Favorite of great\nlords and ladies, the court of Louis XIV could not make\nhim otherwise than natural. Poor and improvident, poverty\nhad no pangs for him. No sorrow ever gave him a\nsleepless hour. To the last he lived up to his\nnickname--Bon-homme. And it is the gentle and good\nman who is always looking out at us at us from the\nfables he refashioned for all time.\n\nWilliam Trowbridge Larned.\nNew York, July 1918.\n\n\n\nThis book contains the following Fables\nfrom the French of La Fontaine:\n\nThe Frog Who Wished To Be As Big As The Ox.\nThe Grasshopper And The Ant.\nThe Cat And The Fox.\nThe Hen With The Golden Eggs.\nThe Dog And His Image.\nThe Acorn And The Pumpkin.\nThe Raven And The Fox.\nThe City Mouse And The Country Mouse.\nThe Lion And The Gnat.\nThe Dove And The Ant.\nThe Fox And The Grapes.\nThe Ass In The Lion's Skin.\nThe Fox And The Stork.\nThe Monkey And The Cat.\nThe Hare And The Tortoise.\nThe Heron Who Was Hard To Please.\nThe Raven Who Would Rival The Eagle.\nThe Miller, His Son And The Ass.\n\n\n\nThe Frog Who Wished To Be As Big As The Ox.\n\nThere was a little Fog\nWhose home was in a bog,\nAnd he worried 'cause he wasn't big enough.\nHe sees an ox and cries:\n\"That's just about my size,\nIf I stretch myself--Say Sister, see me puff!\"\n\nSo he blew, blew, blew,\nSaying: \"Sister, will that do?\"\nBut she shook her head. And then he lost his wits.\nFor he stretched and puffed again\nTill he cracked beneath the strain,\nAnd burst, and flew about in little bits.\n\n\n\nThe Grasshopper And The Ant.\n\nThe Grasshopper, singing\nAll summer long,\nNow found winter stinging,\nAnd ceased in his song.\nNot a morsel or crumb in his cupboard--\nSo he shivered, and ceased in his song.\n\nMiss Ant was his neighbor;\nTo her he went:\n\"O, you're rich from labor,\nAnd I've not a cent.\nLend me food, and I vow I'll return it,\nThough at present I have not a cent.\"\n\nThe Ant's not a lender,\nI must confess.\nHer heart's far from tender\nTo one in distress.\nSo she said: \"Pray, how passed you the summer,\nThat in winter you come to distress?\"\n\n\"I sang through the summer,\"\nGrasshopper said.\n\"But now I am glummer\nBecause I've no bread.\"\n\"So you sang!\" sneered the Ant. \"That relieves me.\nNow it's winter--go dance for your bread!\"\n\n\n\nThe Cat And The Fox.\n\nThe Cat and the Fox once took a walk together,\nSharpening their wits with talk about the weather\nAnd as their walking sharpened appetite, too;\nThey also took some things they had no right to.\nCream, that is so delicious when it thickens,\nPleased the Cat best. The Fox liked little chickens.\n\nWith stomachs filled, they presently grew prouder,\nAnd each began to try to talk the louder--\nBragging about his skill, and strength, and cunning.\n\"Pooh!\" said the Fox. \"You ought to see me running.\nBesides, I have a hundred tricks. You Cat, you!\nWhat can you do when Mr. Dog comes at you?\"\n\"To tell the truth,\" the Cat said, \"though it grieve me\nI've but one trick. Yet that's enough--believe me!\"\n\nThere came a pack of fox-hounds--yelping, baying.\n\"Pardon me\", said the Cat. \"I can't be staying.\nThis is my trick.\" And up a tree he scurried,\nLeaving the Fox below a trifle worried.\n\nIn vain he tried his hundred tricks and ruses\n(The sort of thing that Mr. Dog confuses)--\nDoubling, and seeking one hole, then another--\nSmoked out of each until he thought he'd smother.\nAt last as he once more came out of cover,\nTwo nimble dogs pounced on him--All was over!\n\n\n\nThe Hen With The Golden Eggs.\n\nTo this lesson in greed,\nPray, little ones, heed:\n\nEach day, we are told,\nA most wonderful Hen\nLaid an egg made of gold\nFor this meanest of men.\n\nSo greedy was he,\nHe was not satisfied.\n\"What is one egg to me?\nI want all that' inside!\"\n\nHe cut off her head,\nAnd began to explore.\nBut the poor hen was dead.\nAnd could lay eggs no more.\n\n\n\nThe Dog And His Image.\n\nA foolish Dog, who carried in his jaw\nA juicy bone,\nLooked down into a stream, and there he saw\nAnother one,\nSplash! In he plunged.. The image disappeared--\nThe meat he had was gone.\nIndeed, he nearly sank,\nAnd barely reached the bank.\n\n\n\nThe Acorn and the Pumpkin.\n\nOnce there was a country bumpkin\nWho observed a great big pumpkin\nTo a slender stem attached;\nWhile upon an oak tree nourished,\nLittle acorns grew and flourished.\n\"Bah!\" said he. \"That's badly matched.\"\n\n\"If, despite my humble station,\nI'd a hand in this Creation,\nPumpkins on the oaks would be;\nAnd the acorn, light and little,\nOn this pumpkin stem so brittle\nWould be placed by clever Me.\"\n\nThen, fatigued with so much thought, he\nRest beneath the oak tree sought. He\nSoon in slumber found repose\nBut, alas! An acorn, falling\nOn the spot where he lay sprawling,\nHit him--plump!--Upon the nose.\n\nUp he jumped--a wiser bumpkin.\n\"Gosh!\" he said. \"Suppose a pumpkin\nCame a-fallin' on my face!\nAfter all, if I had made things,\nI'll allow that I'm afraid things\nMight be some what out of place.\"\n\n\n\nThe Raven And The Fox.\n\nMr. Raven was perched upon a limb,\nAnd Reynard the Fox looked up at him;\nFor the Raven held in his great big beak\nA morsel the Fox would go far to seek.\n\nSaid the Fox, in admiring tones: \"My word!\nSir Raven, you are a handsome bird.\nSuch feathers! If you would only sing,\nThe birds of these woods would call you King.\"\n\nThe Raven, who did not see the joke,\nForgot that his voice was just a croak.\nHe opened his beak, in his foolish pride--\nAnd down fell the morsel the Fox had spied.\n\n\"Ha-ha!\" said the Fox. \"And now you see\nYou should not listen to flattery.\nVanity, Sir is a horrid vice--\nI'm sure the lesson is worth the price.\"\n\n\n\nThe City Mouse And The Country Mouse.\n\nA City Mouse, with ways polite,\nA Country Mouse invited\nTo sup with him and spend the night.\nSaid Country Mouse: \"De--lighted!\"\nIn truth it proved a royal treat,\nWith everything that's good to eat.\n\nAlas! When they had just begun\nTo gobble their dinner,\nA knock was heard that made them run.\nThe City Mouse seemed thinner.\nAnd as they scampered and turned tail,\nHe saw the Country Mouse grow pale.\n\nThe knocking ceased. A false alarm!\nThe City Mouse grew braver.\n\"Come back!\" he cried. \"No, no! The farm,\nWhere I'll not quake or quaver,\nSuits me,\" replied the Country Mouse.\n\"You're welcome to your city house.\"\n\n\n\nThe Lion And The Gnat.\n\n\nThe Lion once said to the Gnat: \"You brat,\nClear out just as quick as you can, now--s'cat!\nIf you meddle with me\nI will not guarantee\nThat you won't be slammed perfectly flat--\nD'ye see?\"\n\nSaid the Gnat: \"Because you're called King--you\nthing!--\nYou fancy that you will make me take wing.\nWhy, an ox weighs much more,\nYet I drive him before\nWhen I get good and ready to sting.\nNow, roar!\"\n\nThen loudly his trumpet he blew. And--whew!\nHow fiercely and fast at his foe he flew.\nFrom the tail to the toes\nHe draws blood as he goes.\nThen he starts in to sting and to chew\nHis nose.\n\nSir Lion was mad with the pain. In vain\nHe roared and he foamed and he shook his mane.\nAll the beasts that were nigh\nFled in fear from his cry.\nBut the Gnat only stung him again--\nIn the eye.\n\nHe looked and laughed as he saw--Haw, Haw!--\nThe Lion self-torn by his tooth and claw,\nSo His Majesty's hide\nWith his own blood was dyed.\nSaid the Gnat: \"Shall I serve you up raw--\nOr fried?\"\n\nIt's finished. The Lion's loud roar is o'er.\nHe's bitten and beaten, he's sick and sore.\nBut a spider's web spread\nTrapped the Gnat as he sped\nWith the news...He will never fight more--\nHe's dead!\n\n\n\nThe Dove And The Ant.\n\nAn Ant who in a brook would drink\nFell off the bank. He tried\nTo swim, and felt his courage sink--\nThis ocean seemed so wide.\nBut for a dove who flew above\nHe would have drowned and died.\n\nThe friendly Dove within her beak\nA bridge of grass-stem bore:\nOn this the Ant, though worn and weak.\nContrived to reach the shore\nSaid he: \"The tact of this kind act\nI'll cherish evermore.\"\n\nBehold! A barefoot wretch went by\nWith slingshot in his hand.\nSaid he: \"You'll make a pigeon pie\nThat will be kind of grand.\"\nHe meant to murder the gentle bird--\nWho did not understand.\n\nThe Ant then stung him on the heel\n(So quick to see the sling).\nHe turned his head, and missed a meal:\nThe pigeon pie took wing.\nAnd so the Dove lived on to love--\nBeloved by everything.\n\n\n\nThe Fox And The Grapes.\n\nRosy and ripe, and ready to box,\nThe grapes hang high o'er the hungry Fox.--\nHe pricks up his ears, and his eye he cocks.\n\nRipe and rosy, yet so high!--\nHe gazes at them with a greedy eye,\nAnd knows he must eat and drink--or die.\n\nWhen the jump proves to be beyond his power--\n\"Pooh!\" says the Fox. \"Let the pigs devour\nFruit of that sort. Those grapes are sour!\"\n\n\n\nThe Ass In The Lion's Skin.\n\nAn Ass in The Lion's skin arrayed\nMade everybody fear.\nAnd this was queer,\nBecause he was himself afraid.\nYet everywhere he strayed\nThe people ran like deer.\n\nAh, ah! He is betrayed:\nNo lion has that long and hairy ears.\n\nOld Martin spied the tip; and country folk\nWho are not in the secret of the joke,\nWith open mouths and eyes\nStare at old Martin's prize--\nA Lion led to mill, with neck in yoke.\n\n\n\nThe Fox And The Stork.\n\nOld Father Fox, who was known to be mean,\nInvited Dame Stork in to dinner.\nThere was nothing but soup that could scarcely be seen:--\nSoup never was served any thinner.\nAnd the worst of it was, as I'm bound to relate,\nFather Fox dished it up on a flat china plate.\n\nDame Stork, as you know, has a very long beak:\nNot a crumb or drop could she gather\nHad she pecked at the plate every day in the week.\nBut as for the Fox--sly old Father:\nWith his tongue lapping soup at a scandalous rate,\nHe licked up the last bit and polished the plate.\n\nPretty soon Mistress Stork spread a feast of her own;\nFather Fox was invited to share it.\nHe came, and he saw, and he gave a great groan:\nThe stork had known how to prepare it.\nShe had meant to get even, and now was her turn:\nFather Fox was invited to eat from an urn.\n\nThe urn's mouth was small, and it had a long neck;\nThe food in it smelled most delightful.\nDame Stork, with her beak in, proceeded to peck;\nBut the Fox found that fasting is frightful.\nHome he sneaked. On his way there he felt his ears burn\nWhen he thought of the Stork and her tall, tricky urn.\n\n\n\nThe Monkey And The Cat.\n\nJocko the Monkey, Mouser--his chum, the Cat,\nHad the same master. Both were sleek and fat,\nAnd mischievous. If anything went wrong,\nThe neighbors where not blamed. Be sure of that.\n\nJocko, 'tis said was something of a thief;\nMouser, if truth be told, would just as lief\nMuch stolen cheese as chase the midnight mouse.\nThe praise bestowed on either must be brief.\n\nOne day these rogues, stretched flat before the fire,\nSaw chestnuts roassting. \"Ah! Could we conspire\nTo jerk them out,\" said Jocko, \"from the coals,\nWe'd smash the shells and have our heart's desire.\n\n\"Come, Brother Mouser! This day 'tis your turn\nTo do some bold and desperate thing to earn\nA reputation. You, who are so quick,\nSnatch out the nuts before they start to burn.\n\n\"Alas! That I, a Monkey, was not made\nTo play with fire. But you are not afraid.\"\nSo Mouser--pleased, like many a cat or man,\nWith pretty words--sly Jocko's wish obeyed.\n\nInto the fire he put a practiced paw:\nOut came a chestnut clinging to his claw--\nAnother and another. As they dropped\nJocko devoured them, whether roast or raw.\n\nA servant enters. Off the robbers run.\nJocko, you may be sure, enjoyed the fun.\nBut Mouser's paw is sadly singed--for what?\nJust to get nuts for Jocko. He got none.\n\n\n\nThe Hare And The Tortoise.\n\nSaid the Tortoise one day to the Hare:\n\"I'll run you a race if you dare.\nI'll bet you cannot\nArrive at that spot\nAs quickly as I can get there.\"\n\nQuoth the Hare: \"You are surely insane.\nPray, what has affected your brain?\nYou seem pretty sick.\nCall a doctor in--quick,\nAnd let him prescribe for your pain.\"\n\n\"Never mind,\" said the Tortoise. \"Let's run!\nWill you bet me?\" \"Why, certainly.\" \"Done!\"\nWhile the slow Tortoise creeps\nMr. Hare makes four leaps,\nAnd then loafs around in the sun.\n\nIt seemed such a one-sided race,\nTo win was almost a disgrace.\nSo he frolicked about\nThen at last he set out--\nAs the Tortoise was as nearing the place.\n\nToo late! Though he sped like a dart,\nThe Tortoise was first. She was smart:\n\"You can surely run fast,\"\nShe remarked. \"Yet you're last.\nIt is better to get a good start.\"\n\n\n\nThe Heron Who Was Hard To Please.\n\nA long-legged Heron, with long neck and beak,\nSet out for a stroll by the bank of a creek.\nSo clear was the water that if you looked sharp\nYou could see the pike caper around with the carp.\nThe Heron might quickly have speared enough fish\nTo make for his dinner a capital dish.\nBut he was a very particular bird:\nHis food fixed \"just so,\" at the hours he preferred.\nAnd hence he decided 'twas better to wait,\nSince his appetite grew when he supped rather late.\nPretty soon he was hungry, and stalked to the bank.\nWhere some pondfish were leaping--a fish of low rank.\n\"Bah, Bah!\" said the Bird. \"Sup on these? No--not I.\nI'm known as a Heron: as such I live high.\"\nThen some gudgeon swam past that were tempting to see,\nBut the Heron said hautily: \"No--not for me.\nFor those I'd not bother to open my beak,\nIf I had to hang 'round come next Friday a week.\"\nThus bragged the big Bird. But he's bound to confess\nThat he opened his elegant beak for much less.\nNot another fish came. When he found all else fail,\nHe was happy to happen upon a fat snail.\n\n\n\nThe Raven Who Would Rival The Eagle.\n\nAn Eagle swooped from out the sky,\nAnd carried off a sheep.\nA Raven seeing him, said: \"I\nCould do that too if I should try.\nHis meal comes mighty cheap.\"\n\nOf all that well-fed flock was one\nAs fat as fat could be.\nThe Raven rose, and lit upon\nHer back. She seemed to weigh a ton--\nSo very fat was she.\n\nAnd, oh! Her wool was wondrous thick:\nIt would have made a mat.\nThe Raven's claws are caught, and stick!\nHe's played himself a pretty trick--\nTo fly with one so fat.\n\n\"Ba, ba!\" \"Caw, caw!\" cry bird and beast.\nThe shepherd comes at last:\nSir Raven who would find a feast\nIs from the woolly one released,\nAnd in a cage kept fast.\n\n\n\nThe Miller, His Son And The Ass.\n\nA Miller and Son once set out for the fair,\nTo sell a fine ass they had brought up with care;\nAnd the way that they started made everyone stare.\n\nTo keep the Ass fresh, so the beast would sell dear\nOn a pole they slung him. It surely seemed queer:\nHe looked, with heels up, like some huge chandelier.\n\nOne person who passed them cried out in great glee.\n\"Was there anything ever so silly?\" said he.\n\"Can you guess who the greatest Ass is of those three?\"\n\nThe Miller at once put the brute on the ground;\nAnd the Ass, who had liked to ride t'other way round,\nComplained in language of curious sound.\n\nNo matter. The Miller now made his Son ride,\nWhile he followed after or walked alongside.\nThen up came three merchants. The eldest one cried;\n\n\"Get down there, young fellow! I never did see\nSuch manners:--a gray-beard walks where you should be.\nHe should ride, you should follow. Just take that from me!\"\n\n\"Dear Sirs,\" quoth the Miller, \"I'd see you content.\"\nHe climbed to the saddle; on foot the boy went...\nThree girls passed. Said one: \"Do you see that old Gent?\nThere he sits, like a bishop. I say it's a shame,\nWhile that boy trudging after seems more than half lame.\"\n\"Little girl,\" said the Miller, \"go back whence you came.\"\n\nYet this young creature so worked on his mind\nThat he wanted no woman to call him unkind:\nAnd he said to his Son: \"Seat yourself here--behind.\"\n\nWith the Ass bearing double they jogged on again,\nAnd once more met a critic, who said: \"It is plain\nOnly dunces would give their poor donkey such pain.\nHe will die with their weight: it's a shame and a sin.\nFor their faithful servant they care not a pin.\nThey'll have nothing to sell at the fair but his skin.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" said the Miller, \"what am I to do?\nMust I suit the whole world and the world's father, too?\nYet it must end some time--so I'll see the thing through.\"\n\nBoth Father and Son now decided to walk,\nWhile the Ass marched in front with a strut and a stalk;\nYet the people who passed them continued to talk.\n\nSaid one to another: \"Look there, if you please,\nHow they wear out their shoes, while their Ass takes his ease.\nWere there ever, d'ye think, three such asses as these?\"\nSaid the Miller: \"You're right. I'm an Ass! It is true.\nToo long have I listened to people like you.\nBut now I am done with the whole kit and crew.\n\n\"Let them blame me or praise me, keep silent or yell,\nMy goings and comings they cannot compel.\nI will do as I please!\"...So he did--and did well.","title":"Fables in Rhyme for Little Folks: From the French of La Fontaine","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":4415}