Or, if not born to purposes so great, The streams, at least, shall win my heartfelt thanks, While, in my verse, I paint their flowery banks. Fate shall not weave my life with golden thread, Nor, 'neath rich fret-work, on a purple bed, Shall I repose, full late, my care-worn head. But will my sleep be less a treasure? Less deep, thereby, and full of pleasure? I vow it, sweet and gentle as the dew, Within those deserts sacrifices new; And when the time shall come to yield my breath, Without remorse I'll join the ranks of Death.[8] [6] The original story of this fable is traced to Sadi, the Persian poet and fabulist, who flourished in the twelfth century. La Fontaine probably found it in the French edition of Sadi's "Gulistan; or the Garden of Flowers" which was published by André du Ryer in 1634. [7] _Minos_.--Chief judge in the infernal regions. [8] For some remarks upon this fable see Translator's Preface. V.--THE LION, THE MONKEY, AND THE TWO ASSES.[9] The lion, for his kingdom's sake, In morals would some lessons take, And therefore call'd, one summer's day, The monkey, master of the arts, An animal of brilliant parts, To hear what he could say. 'Great king,' the monkey thus began, 'To reign upon the wisest plan Requires a prince to set his zeal, And passion for the public weal, Distinctly and quite high above A certain feeling call'd self-love, The parent of all vices, In creatures of all sizes. To will this feeling from one's breast away, Is not the easy labour of a day; 'Tis much to moderate its tyrant sway. By that your majesty august, Will execute your royal trust, From folly free and aught unjust.' 'Give me,' replied the king, 'Example of each thing.' 'Each species,' said the sage,-- 'And I begin with ours,-- Exalts its own peculiar powers Above sound reason's gauge. Meanwhile, all other kinds and tribes As fools and blockheads it describes, With other compliments as cheap. But, on the other hand, the same Self-love inspires a beast to heap The highest pyramid of fame For every one that bears his name; Because he justly deems such praise The easiest way himself to raise. 'Tis my conclusion in the case, That many a talent here below Is but cabal, or sheer grimace,-- The art of seeming things to know-- An art in which perfection lies More with the ignorant than wise.