None wish to cozen heaven but the fool; The mystic labyrinths of the human heart Lie open to the gods in every part: All that man does is under their wise rule, Even things done in darkness are revealed To those from whom no single act's concealed. A Pagan--a vile rogue in grain, Whose faith in gods, it's very plain, Was but to use them as a dictionary, For consultation wary-- Went once to try Apollo to deceive, With or without his leave. "Is what I hold," he said, "alive or no?" He held a sparrow, you must know, Prepared to kill it or to let it fly; To give the god at once the lie. Apollo saw the plan within his head, And answered-- "Dead or alive," he said, "produce your sparrow. Try no more tricks, for I can always foil; Such stratagems, you see, do but recoil. I see afar, and far I cast my arrow." [Illustration] FABLE LXXXVII. THE MOUNTAIN IN LABOUR. Mountain in labour announced the new birth With clamour so loud that the people all thought 'Twould at least bear a city, the largest on earth. It was merely a Mouse that the incident brought. When I think of this fable, so false in its fact, And so true in its moral, it brings to my mind Those common-place authors who try to attract Attention by means of the subjects they find. "I will sing about Jove and the Titans," cries one; But how often the song comes to nothing, when done! [Illustration: FORTUNE AND THE LITTLE CHILD.] FABLE LXXXVIII. FORTUNE AND THE LITTLE CHILD. Beside a well profoundly deep A Schoolboy laid him down to sleep. Ere care has racked with aches the head, The hardest bank 's a feather bed; A grown-up man, in such a case, Had leaped a furlong from the place. Happy for him, just then came by Fortune, and saw him heedless lie. She woke him softly, speaking mild: "I've saved your life, you see, my child. Another time you close your eyes, Be just a little bit more wise. If you had fallen down below, 'Twould have been laid to me, I know, Though your own fault; and now, I pray, Before I take myself away, In honest truth you'll own the same, For I was hardly here to blame. It was not <i>my</i> caprice or joke." The goddess vanished as she spoke. And she was right; for never yet Have any a misfortune met, But Fortune's blamed: she has to pay For our misdoings every day. For all mad, foolish, ill-planned schemes We try to justify our dreams By rating her with curses strong. In one word, <i>Fortune's always wrong.</i> [Illustration] [Illustration] FABLE LXXXIX. THE EARTHEN POT AND THE IRON POT.