[Footnote NF.7: _The laurels, too_)--Ver. 5. The “cortina” or oracular shrine was surrounded with laurels; which were said to quiver while the oracles were being pronounced. This is probably the most beautiful portion of these newly-discovered poems. Still, it cannot with propriety be called a Fable.] FABLE VIII. ÆSOP AND THE AUTHOR. _On a bad Author who praised himself._ A Person had recited[8] some worthless composition to Æsop, in which he had inordinately bragged about himself. Desirous, therefore, to know what the Sage thought {thereof}: “Does it appear to you,” said he, “that I have been too conceited? I have no empty confidence in my own capacity.” Worried to death with the execrable volume, Æsop replied: “I greatly approve of your bestowing praise on yourself, for it will never be your lot to receive it from another.” [Footnote NF.8: _A person had recited_)--Ver. 1. Adry remarks that this is not a Fable, but only an Epigram.] FABLE IX. POMPEIUS MAGNUS AND HIS SOLDIER. _How difficult it is to understand a man._ A Soldier of Pompeius Magnus, a man of huge bulk, by talking mincingly and walking with an affected gait, had acquired the character of an effeminate wretch, {and that} most fully established. Lying in wait by night for the beasts of burden of his General, he drives away the mules {laden} with garments and gold, and a vast weight of silver. A rumour of what has been done gets abroad; the soldier is accused, {and} carried off to the Prætorium. On this, Magnus {says to him}: “How say you? Have you dared to rob me, comrade?” The soldier forthwith spits into his left hand, and scatters about the spittle with his fingers. “Even thus, General,” says he, “may my eyes drip out, if I have seen or touched {your property}.” Then Magnus, a man of easy disposition, orders the false accusers to be sent about their business,[9] and will not believe the man guilty of so great audacity.