And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, Believed his dangers ended all. A roguish boy had there a sling, (Age pitiless! We must confess,) And, by a most unlucky fling, Half kill'd our hapless dove; Who now, no more in love With foreign travelling, And lame in leg and wing, Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, In truly sad and piteous plight. The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, What pleasure might their pains repay. Ah, happy lovers, would you roam?-- Pray, let it not be far from home. To each the other ought to be A world of beauty ever new; In each the other ought to see The whole of what is good and true. Myself have loved; nor would I then, For all the wealth of crownèd men, Or arch celestial, paved with gold, The presence of those woods have sold, And fields, and banks, and hillocks, which Were by the joyful steps made rich, And smiled beneath the charming eyes Of her who made my heart a prize-- To whom I pledged it, nothing loath, And seal'd the pledge with virgin oath. Ah, when will time such moments bring again? To me are sweet and charming objects vain-- My soul forsaking to its restless mood? O, did my wither'd heart but dare To kindle for the bright and good, Should not I find the charm still there? Is love, to me, with things that were? [2] Bidpaii. By common consent this fable is ranked among La Fontaine's very best. See Translator's Preface. III.--THE MONKEY AND THE LEOPARD.[3]