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From the French by Elizur Wright
A PROWLING wolf, whose shaggy skin | |
| (So strict the watch of dogs had been) | |
| Hid little but his bones, | |
| Once met a mastiff dog astray. | |
| A prouder, fatter, sleeker Tray | 5 |
| No human mortal owns. | |
| Sir Wolf, in famished plight, | |
| Would fain have made a ration | |
| Upon his fat relation: | |
| But then he first must fight; | 10 |
| And well the dog seemed able | |
| To save from wolfish table | |
| His carcass snug and tight. | |
| So then in civil conversation | |
| The wolf expressed his admiration | 15 |
| Of Tray’s fine case. Said Tray politely, | |
| “Yourself, good sir, may be as sightly; | |
| Quit but the woods, advised by me: | |
| For all your fellows here, I see, | |
| Are shabby wretches, lean and gaunt, | 20 |
| Belike to die of haggard want. | |
| With such a pack, of course it follows, | |
| One fights for every bit he swallows. | |
| Come then with me, and share | |
| On equal terms our princely fare.” | 25 |
| “But what with you | |
| Has one to do?” | |
| Inquires the wolf. “Light work indeed,” | |
| Replies the dog: “you only need | |
| To bark a little now and then, | 30 |
| To chase off duns and beggar-men, | |
| To fawn on friends that come or go forth, | |
| Your master please, and so forth; | |
| For which you have to eat | |
| All sorts of well-cooked meat— | 35 |
| Cold pullets, pigeons, savory messes— | |
| Besides unnumbered fond caresses.” | |
| The wolf, by force of appetite, | |
| Accepts the terms outright, | |
| Tears glistened in his eyes; | 40 |
| But faring on, he spies | |
| A galled spot on the mastiff’s neck. | |
| “What ’s that?” he cries. “Oh, nothing but a speck.” | |
| “A speck?”—“Ay, ay: ’t is not enough to pain me: | |
| Perhaps the collar’s mark by which they chain me.” | 45 |
| “Chain! chain you! What! run you not, then, | |
| Just where you please and when?” | |
| “Not always, sir; but what of that?” | |
| “Enough for me, to spoil your fat! | |
| It ought to be a precious price | 50 |
| Which could to servile chains entice; | |
| For me, I ’ll shun them while I ’ve wit.” | |
| So ran Sir Wolf, and runneth yet. | |
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