Crow and Fox
How often have they told us, please, and always of no use that flattery's means and base? The flatterer in our hearts will always find a place.
God somehow sent the crow a little bit of cheese. The crow had perched upon a fir. She seemed to have settled down to enjoy her provender, but mused with mouth half-closed, the dainty bit still in it. Unhappily the fox came running past that minute. A whiff of scent soon brings him to a pause, and Reynard sights the cheese,and Reynard licks his jaws. The rascal steals on tip-toe to the tree. He curls his tail, and gazing earnestly, he speaks so soft,scarce whispering each word:
"How beautiful you are, sweet bird! What a neck, and Oh!What eyes! Like a dream of ParadiseS! Then, what feathers!what a beak! And,sure,an angel's voice if only you would speak!Sing, darling, don't be shy! Oh, sister, truth to tell, if you with charms like these, can sing as well. Of birds you'd be the queen adorable! "
The silly creature's head turns giddy with his praise.Her breath, for verv rapture,swells her throat. The fox's soft persuasion she obeys, and high as crow can pitch she eaws one piercing note. Down falls the cheese! Both cheese and tox have gone their ways.
Oak and Reed
An oak got talking with a reed one day:
"You certainly have cause of nature to complain,why,even a sparrow's weight for you is quite a strain, At even the slightest breeze that makes the ripples@ play. You quake as if you're touched with blight. You bend and bow so desolate@, indeed you are a sorry sight.
Now I,like Caucasus in all his pride and state. 'Tis little that the rage of Phoebus I abate. Laughing at hurricanes, beneath thunder's roar at ease, I stand as strong and straight, as though I bore a shield of peace inviolate.
For you each breath's a storm,for me the storm's a breeze. If only you were growing somewhere close, then in the depths of shade that my broad boughs could lend you. From stress of weather I could easily defend you. Alas that nature for your dwelling chose.The banks of A Eolus, the stormy realm of air. No doubt, for such as you she found no time to care. "
"You are full of charity," the reed replied with scorn.
"But do not be distressed! My lot can well be borne!
If storms I fear, it is not for my sake. Though bend I must, I shall not break, 'tis little harm they do to me. He thinks, for you yourself more danger there may be. 'Tis true that up till now,beneath the fiercest blast your sturdy form stands firm and fast.From all its angry blows your face you never hide. But wait and see the end !"
And scarce the reed had thus replied, when see, all sudden from the North. The boisterous Aquilo with hail and rain broke forth. The oak stood firm. The reed down to the earth must bend. On raged the storm still fiercer than before. Till roaring from his root, it tore the tree that close to heaven, his towering summit flaunted, and in the realm of shade his sturdy foot had planted.P1-4