Menenius[7] told the story well: When Rome, of old, in pieces fell, The commons parting from the senate. 'The ills,' said they, 'that we complain at Are, that the honours, treasures, power, and dignity, Belong to them alone; while we Get nought our labour for But tributes, taxes, and fatigues of war.' Without the walls the people had their stand Prepared to march in search of other land, When by this noted fable Menenius was able To draw them, hungry, home To duty and to Rome.[8] [5] Aesop. Rabelais also has a version: Book III. ch. 3. [6] _Boss_.--A word probably more familiar to hod-carriers than to lexicographers; qu. derived from the French _bosseman_, or the English _boatswain_, pronounced _bos'n_? It denotes a "master" of some practical "art." Master Belly, says Rabelais, was the first Master of Arts in the world.--Translator. The name used by La Fontaine is "Messer Gaster." To which he puts a footnote stating that he meant "L'estomac." He took the name from Rabelais, Book IV., ch. 57, where it occurs thus:--"Messer Gaster est le premier maître ès arts de ce monde.... Son mandement est nommé: Faire le fault, sans delay, ou mourir." [7] _Menenius_.--See Translator's Preface. [8] _Rome_.--According to our republican notions of government, these people were somewhat imposed upon. Perhaps the fable finds a more appropriate application in the relation of employer to employed. I leave the fabulists and the political economists to settle the question between them.--Translator. III.--THE WOLF TURNED SHEPHERD.[9] A wolf, whose gettings from the flocks Began to be but few, Bethought himself to play the fox In character quite new. A shepherd's hat and coat he took, A cudgel for a crook, Nor e'en the pipe forgot: And more to seem what he was not, Himself upon his hat he wrote, 'I'm Willie, shepherd of these sheep.' His person thus complete, His crook in upraised feet, The impostor Willie stole upon the keep. The real Willie, on the grass asleep, Slept there, indeed, profoundly, His dog and pipe slept, also soundly; His drowsy sheep around lay. As for the greatest number, Much bless'd the hypocrite their slumber, And hoped to drive away the flock, Could he the shepherd's voice but mock. He thought undoubtedly he could. He tried: the tone in which he spoke, Loud echoing from the wood, The plot and slumber broke; Sheep, dog, and man awoke. The wolf, in sorry plight, In hampering coat bedight, Could neither run nor fight. There's always leakage of deceit Which makes it never safe to cheat. Whoever is a wolf had better Keep clear of hypocritic fetter. [9] The story of this fable is traced to Verdizotti, an Italian poet who lived about 1535-1600. IV.--THE FROGS ASKING A KING.[10]