Espied the tortoise in his path, And straightway check'd his wrath. 'Why let my courage flag, Because my snare has chanced to miss? I'll have a supper out of this.' He said, and put it in his bag. And it had paid the forfeit so, Had not the raven told the roe, Who from her covert came, Pretending to be lame. The man, right eager to pursue, Aside his wallet threw, Which Rongemail took care To serve as he had done the snare; Thus putting to an end The hunter's supper on his friend. 'Tis thus sage Pilpay's tale I follow. Were I the ward of golden-hair'd Apollo, It were, by favour of that god, easy-- And surely for your sake-- As long a tale to make As is the Iliad or Odyssey. Grey Rongemail the hero's part should play, Though each would be as needful in his way. He of the mansion portable awoke Sir Raven by the words he spoke, To act the spy, and then the swift express. The light gazelle alone had had th' address The hunter to engage, and furnish time For Rongemail to do his deed sublime. Thus each his part perform'd. Which wins the prize? The heart, so far as in my judgment lies.[31] [27] Bidpaii. [28] _Madame de la Sablière_.--See note to Fable I., Book X.: also Translator's Preface. [29] _Some mortals kneeling at her feet_.--In allusion to the distinguished company which assembled at the house of Madame de la Sablière. See notes on John Sobieski (King John III., of Poland), &c., Fable I., Book X. [30] _Such a fool_.--In allusion to Fable XIX., Book I. [31] This fable was also first published in the "Works" of De Maucroix and La Fontaine, 1685. The text of the later issue is slightly abridged. XVI.--THE WOODS AND THE WOODMAN.[32] A certain wood-chopper lost or broke From his axe's eye a bit of oak. The forest must needs be somewhat spared While such a loss was being repair'd. Came the man at last, and humbly pray'd That the woods would kindly lend to him-- A moderate loan--a single limb, Whereof might another helve be made, And his axe should elsewhere drive its trade. O, the oaks and firs that then might stand, A pride and a joy throughout the land, For their ancientness and glorious charms! The innocent Forest lent him arms; But bitter indeed was her regret; For the wretch, his axe new-helved and whet, Did nought but his benefactress spoil Of the finest trees that graced her soil; And ceaselessly was she made to groan, Doing penance for that fatal loan.