'Let both, then, cease to mourn; And you, back to your cage return.' 'Sire king,' replied the bird, 'Think you that, after such a deed, I ought to trust your word? You speak of Fate; by such a heathen creed Hope you that I shall be enticed to bleed? But whether Fate or Providence divine Gives law to things below, 'Tis writ on high, that on this waving pine, Or where wild forests grow, My days I finish, safely, far From that which ought your love to mar, And turn it all to hate. Revenge, I know, 's a kingly morsel, And ever hath been part and parcel Of this your godlike state. You would forget the cause of grief; Suppose I grant you my belief,-- 'Tis better still to make it true, By keeping out of sight of you. Sire king, my friend, no longer wait For friendship to be heal'd;.... But absence is the cure of hate, As 'tis from love the shield.' [19] Bidpaii. In Knatchbull's English edition the fable is titled "The King and the Bird, or the emblem of revengeful persons who are unworthy of trust." It is also in the Lokman collection. [20] _The talking bird_, &c.--"Stygia natabat jam frigida cymba."--VIRG.--Translator. XIII.--THE LIONESS AND THE BEAR. The lioness had lost her young; A hunter stole it from the vale; The forests and the mountains rung Responsive to her hideous wail. Nor night, nor charms of sweet repose, Could still the loud lament that rose From that grim forest queen. No animal, as you might think, With such a noise could sleep a wink. A bear presumed to intervene. 'One word, sweet friend,' quoth she, 'And that is all, from me. The young that through your teeth have pass'd, In file unbroken by a fast, Had they nor dam nor sire?' 'They had them both.' 'Then I desire, Since all their deaths caused no such grievous riot, While mothers died of grief beneath your fiat, To know why you yourself cannot be quiet?' 'I quiet!--I!--a wretch bereaved! My only son!--such anguish be relieved! No, never! All for me below Is but a life of tears and woe!'-- 'But say, why doom yourself to sorrow so?'-- 'Alas! 'tis Destiny that is my foe.' Such language, since the mortal fall, Has fallen from the lips of all. Ye human wretches, give your heed; For your complaints there's little need. Let him who thinks his own the hardest case, Some widowed, childless Hecuba behold, Herself to toil and shame of slavery sold, And he will own the wealth of heavenly grace. XIV.--THE TWO ADVENTURERS AND THE TALISMAN.[21]