Huge, unshaped mass, without one beauteous mark!" The elephant, who did hark,

Wise though he was made just the same remark

Upon the whale, which seemed to his own taste
Much too unwieldy, and too large a beast.
Dame ant the mite thought much too small a one,
Feeling colossal in comparison.

Jove then dismissed them with contented air,
Fault-finding each with each. Of all fools there
The greatest was our race; for 'tis our care
For our own deeds mole-blind, lynx-eyed for our
brothers,

Ourselves to excuse, whilst we condemn all others;
For selves our eyesight differs from another's.
For by our Maker's sovereign decree

We all a wallet bear,

Both men who were

And men who still may be,

In which our own faults in a pouch behind,
Our neighbour's in a pouch in front, we find.

Fable 8.-L'Hirondelle et les petits Oiseaux.

UNE hirondelle en ses voyages

Avait beaucoup appris. Quiconque a beaucoup vu
Peut avoir beaucoup retenu.
Celle-ci prévoyait jusqu'aux moindres orages,
Et devant qu'ils fussent éclos,

Les annonçait aux matelots.

Il arriva qu'au temps que la chanvre se sème,
Elle vit un manant en couvrir maints sillons.
Ceci ne me plaît pas, dit-elle aux oisillons.

Je vous plains; car, pour moi, dans ce péril extrême,
Je saurai m'éloigner, ou vivre en quelque coin.
Voyez-vous cette main qui par les airs chemine?
Un jour viendra, qui n'est pas loin,

Que ce qu'elle répand sera votre ruine.
De là naîtront engins à vous envelopper,
Et lacets pour vous attraper;
Enfin mainte et mainte machine
Qui causera dans la saison

Votre mort ou votre prison :

Fable 8.-The Swallow and little Birds.

A SWALLOW, by much travelling,
Had learnt a deal of everything;

The memory, of sights which men have seen,
In most things has retentive been.

So she all storms foresaw, however slight,
And warned the sailors ere they came in sight.
It happened that at seedtime of some flax
She saw a peasant spread it o'er the backs
Of ridge and furrow round on every side,
A thing which, when she spied,

"I do not like this!" to the birds she cried;
"I pity you in this danger; as for me,

I can live in some corner, or abroad can flee.
See ye that hand which, hovering in the air,
At a no distant day

That which it casts away

Will cause your ruin in its fruit to bear!
Traps will be made of it to envelope you,
Snares to confine your wings;

Gare la cage ou le chaudron.
C'est pourquoi, leur dit l'hirondelle,
Mangez ce grain, et croyez-moi.
Les oiseaux se moquèrent d'elle;
Ils trouvaient aux champs trop de quoi.
Quand la chenevière fut verte,

L'hirondelle leur dit: Arrachez brin à brin

Ce qu'a produit ce maudit grain ;
Ou soyez sûrs de votre perte.

Prophète de malheur ! babillarde! dit-on,

Le bel emploi que tu nous donnes !
Il nous faudrait mille personnes
Pour éplucher tout ce canton.

La chanvre étant tout-à-fait crûe,
L'hirondelle ajouta : Ceci ne va pas bien ;
Mauvaise graine est tôt venue.

Mais, puisque jusqu'ici l'on ne m'a crue en rien;
Dès que vous verrez que la terre
Sera couverte, et qu'à leurs blés
Les gens n'étant plus occupés

Quand reginglette et réseaux

Attraperont petit oiseaux,

Ne volez plus de place en place;

Demeurez au logis, ou changez de climat:
Imitez le canard, la grue et la bécasse.

Mais vous n'êtes pas en état

De passer, comme nous, les déserts et les ondes, Ni d'aller chercher d'autres mondes.

Death or a prison will be your unhappy due
This season, by such things!

'Ware cage or kettle's stew !

This is the cause," advised the swallow then,
"You'd better trust in me, and eat the grain !"
But the birds only laughed at her advice,
All that they found around them was too nice.
When the hemp-field was ripe and green
The swallow told them, "Pick off bit by bit
Of this cursed grain, and what has come of it,
Or sure your approaching fate you will have seen!”
"Prophet of ill!" they said; "vain babbler, go!
A fine employment you have bid us do!

Why it would take a thousand of us, sure,
To clear this district of its ample store!"

The hemp being ripe the swallow this did add :
"Ill grain has come too soon, and this is bad!
But since in nought you've trusted me so far,
Soon as the soil you see
Covered, and peasants free

From care of corn to be,

And ready on all small birds to make war;

And trap is set, and gin

To catch you weak birds in,

Flit not from place to place,

The woodcock imitating, stay at home,

Like duck or stork, nor in strange climates roam.

You cannot, like our race,

Pass over seas and deserts in your flights,