- The Companions of Ulysses
- The Cat and the Two Sparrows
- The Miser and the Monkey
- The Two Goats
- The Old Cat and the Young Mouse
- The Sick Stag
- The Bat, the Bush, and the Duck
- The Quarrel of the Dogs and Cats
- The Wolf and the Fox
- The Lobster and her Daughter
- The Eagle and the Magpie
- The King, the Kite, and the Falconer
- The Fox, the Flies, and the Hedgehog
- Love And Folly
- The Raven, the Gazelle, the Tortoise, and the Rat
- The Woods and the Woodman
- The Fox, the Wolf, and the Horse
- The Fox and the Turkeys
- The Ape
- The Scythian Philosopher
- The Elephant and the Ape Of Jupiter
- The Fool and the Sage
- The English Fox
- The Sun and the Frogs
- The League of the Rats
- Daphnis And Alcimadure
- The Arbiter, the Almoner, and the Hermit
A Scythian philosopher austere,
Resolved his rigid life somewhat to cheer,
Performed the tour of Greece, saw many things,
But, best, a sage,—one such as Virgil sings,—
A simple, rustic man, that equaled kings;
From whom, the gods would hardly bear the palm;
Like them unawed, content, and calm.
His fortune was a little nook of land;
And there the Scythian found him, hook in hand,
His fruit-trees pruning. Here he cropped
A barren branch, there slashed and lopped,
Correcting Nature everywhere,
Who paid with usury his care.
“Pray, why this wasteful havoc, sir?”—
So spoke the wondering traveller;
“Can it, I ask, in reason’s name,
Be wise these harmless trees to maim?
Fling down that instrument of crime,
And leave them to the scythe of Time.
Full soon, unhastened, they will go
To deck the banks of streams below.”
Replied the tranquil gardener,
“I humbly crave your pardon, sir;
Excess is all my hook removes,
By which the rest more fruitful proves.”
The philosophic traveller,—
Once more within his country cold,—
Himself of pruning-hook laid hold,
And made a use most free and bold;
Prescribed to friends, and counseled neighbours
To imitate his pruning labours.
The finest limbs he did not spare,
But pruned his orchard past all reason,
Regarding neither time nor season,
Nor taking of the moon a care.
All withered, drooped, and died.
This Scythian I set beside
The indiscriminating Stoic.
The latter, with a blade heroic,
Retrenches, from his spirit sad,
Desires and passions, good and bad,
Not sparing even a harmless wish.
Against a tribe so Vandalish
With earnestness I here protest.
They maim our hearts, they stupefy
Their strongest springs, if not their best;
They make us cease to live before we die.
A pot of milk on her cushioned crown,Good Peggy hastened to the market town;Short clad ...
The Scythian Philosopher – Jean de La Fontaine Fables
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