The Ears Of The Hare.

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Some beast with horns did gore
The lion; and that sovereign dread,
Resolved to suffer so no more,
Straight banish'd from his realm, 'tis said,
All sorts of beasts with horns -
Rams, bulls, goats, stags, and unicorns.
Such brutes all promptly fled.
A hare, the shadow of his ears perceiving,
Could hardly help believing
That some vile spy for horns would take them,
And food for accusation make them.
'Adieu,' said he, 'my neighbour cricket;
I take my foreign ticket.
My ears, should I stay here,
Will turn to horns, I fear;
And were they shorter than a bird's,
I fear the effect of words.'
'These horns!' the cricket answer'd; 'why,
God made them ears who can deny?'
'Yes,' said the coward, 'still they'll make them horns,
And horns, perhaps of unicorns!
In vain shall I protest,
With all the learning of the schools:
My reasons they will send to rest
In th' Hospital of Fools.'^[2]

Jean de La Fontaine

Jean de La Fontaine was a renowned French fabulist and poet. Born on July 8, 1621, he is best known for his 'Fables,' which have been admired for their witty and insightful depiction of human nature and society. La Fontaine's fables are considered classics of French literature and have had a long-lasting impact on both the literary world and popular culture. He passed away on April 13, 1695.

Jean de La Fontaine

The City Rat And The Country Rat.[1]

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Dairy-Woman And The Pail Of Milk (Prose Fable)

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Convent Gardener Of Lamporechio

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Ass Carrying Relics.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

English

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The Hare And The Frogs.

^[1]

Once in his bed deep mused the hare,
(What else but muse could he do there?)
And soon by gloom was much afflicted; -
To gloom the creature's much addicted.
'Alas! these constitutions nervous,'
He cried, 'how wretchedly they serve us!
We timid people, by their action,
Can't eat nor sleep with satisfaction;
We can't enjoy a pleasure single,
But with some misery it must mingle.
Myself, for one, am forced by cursed fear
To sleep with open eye as well as ear.
"Correct yourself," says some adviser.
Grows fear, by such advice, the wiser?
Indeed, I well enough descry
That men have fear, as well as I.'
With such revolving thoughts our hare
Kept watch in soul-consuming care.
A passing shade, or leaflet's quiver
Would give his blo...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Hare And The Partridge.

Beware how you deride
The exiles from life's sunny side:
To you is little known
How soon their case may be your own.
On this, sage Aesop gives a tale or two,
As in my verses I propose to do.
A field in common share
A partridge and a hare,
And live in peaceful state,
Till, woeful to relate!
The hunters' mingled cry
Compels the hare to fly.
He hurries to his fort,
And spoils almost the sport
By faulting every hound
That yelps upon the ground.
At last his reeking heat
Betrays his snug retreat.
Old Tray, with philosophic nose,
Snuffs carefully, and grows
So certain, that he cries,
'The hare is here; bow wow!'
And veteran Ranger now, -
The dog that never lies, -
'The hare is gone,' replies.
Alas! poor, wretched hare,

Jean de La Fontaine

The Hare And The Partridge.

    A field in common share
        A partridge and a hare,
    And live in peaceful state,
    Till, woeful to relate!
    The hunters' mingled cry
    Compels the hare to fly.
    He hurries to his fort,
    And spoils almost the sport
    By faulting every hound
    That yelps upon the ground.
    At last his reeking heat
    Betrays his snug retreat.
Old Tray, with philosophic nose,
Snuffs carefully, and grows
    So certain, that he cries,
        "The hare is here; bow wow!"
        And veteran Ranger now,--
    The dog that never lies,--
    "The hare is gone," replies.
    Alas! poor, wretched hare,
    Back comes he to his lair,
    To meet destruction there!
    The partridge, void of fear,
    Begins her friend to ...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Wolf And The Shepherds.

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A Wolf, replete
With humanity sweet,
(A trait not much suspected,)
On his cruel deeds,
The fruit of his needs,
Profoundly thus reflected.

'I'm hated,' said he,
'As joint enemy,
By hunters, dogs, and clowns.
They swear I shall die,
And their hue and cry
The very thunder drowns.

'My brethren have fled,
With price on the head,
From England's merry land.
King Edgar came out,
And put them to rout,^[2]
With many a deadly band.

'And there's not a squire
But blows up the fire
By hostile proclamation;
Nor a human brat,
Dares cry, but that
Its mother mocks my nation.

'And all for what?
For a sheep with the rot,
Or scabby, mangy ass,
Or some snarling cur,

Jean de La Fontaine

The Gardener And His Lord.

A lover of gardens, half cit and half clown,
Possess'd a nice garden beside a small town;
And with it a field by a live hedge inclosed,
Where sorrel and lettuce, at random disposed,
A little of jasmine, and much of wild thyme,
Grew gaily, and all in their prime
To make up Miss Peggy's bouquet,
The grace of her bright wedding day.
For poaching in such a nice field - 'twas a shame;
A foraging, cud-chewing hare was to blame.
Whereof the good owner bore down
This tale to the lord of the town: -
'Some mischievous animal, morning and night,
In spite of my caution, comes in for his bite.
He laughs at my cunning-set dead-falls and snares;
For clubbing and stoning as little he cares.
I think him a wizard. A wizard! the coot!
I'd catch him if he were a devil to boo...

Jean de La Fontaine

The Dog Whose Ears Were Cropped.

'What have I done, I'd like to know,
To make my master maim me so?
A pretty figure I shall cut!
From other dogs I'll keep, in kennel shut.
Ye kings of beasts, or rather tyrants, ho!
Would any beast have served you so?'
Thus Growler cried, a mastiff young; -
The man, whom pity never stung,
Went on to prune him of his ears.
Though Growler whined about his losses,
He found, before the lapse of years,
Himself a gainer by the process;
For, being by his nature prone
To fight his brethren for a bone,
He'd oft come back from sad reverse
With those appendages the worse.
All snarling dogs have ragged ears.

The less of hold for teeth of foe,
The better will the battle go.
When, in a certain place, one fears
The chance of being hurt or beat,

Jean de La Fontaine