The fables of Babrius have been edited, with an interesting and valuable introduction, by W.G. Rutherford (1883), and by F.G. Schneidewin (1880). They have been turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860). The reader is also referred to the article ‘Aesop’ in the present work.
THE NORTH WIND AND THE SUN
Betwixt the North wind
and the Sun arose
A contest, which would
soonest of his clothes
Strip a wayfaring clown,
so runs the tale.
First, Boreas blows
an almost Thracian gale,
Thinking, perforce,
to steal the man’s capote:
He loosed it not; but
as the cold wind smote
More sharply, tighter
round him drew the folds,
And sheltered by a crag
his station holds.
But now the Sun at first
peered gently forth,
And thawed the chills
of the uncanny North;
Then in their turn his
beams more amply plied,
Till sudden heat the
clown’s endurance tried;
Stripping himself, away
his cloak he flung:
The Sun from Boreas
thus a triumph wrung.
The fable means, “My
son, at mildness aim:
Persuasion more results
than force may claim.”
JUPITER AND THE MONKEY
A baby-show with prizes
Jove decreed
For all the beasts,
and gave the choice due heed.
A monkey-mother came
among the rest;
A naked, snub-nosed
pug upon her breast
She bore, in mother’s
fashion. At the sight
Assembled gods were
moved to laugh outright.
Said she, “Jove
knoweth where his prize will fall!
I know my child’s
the beauty of them all.”
This fable will a general
law attest,
That each one deems
that what’s his own, is best.
THE MOUSE THAT FELL INTO THE POT
A mouse into a lidless
broth-pot fell;
Choked with the grease,
and bidding life farewell,
He said, “My fill
of meat and drink have I
And all good things:
’Tis time that I should die.”
Thou art that dainty
mouse among mankind,
If hurtful sweets are
not by thee declined.
THE FOX AND THE GRAPES
There hung some bunches
of the purple grape
On a hillside.
A cunning fox, agape
For these full clusters,
many times essayed
To cull their dark bloom,
many vain leaps made.
They were quite ripe,
and for the vintage fit;
But when his leaps did
not avail a whit,
He journeyed on, and
thus his grief composed:—
“The bunch was
sour, not ripe, as I supposed.”
THE CARTER AND HERCULES
A carter from the village
drove his wain:
And when it fell into
a rugged lane,
Inactive stood, nor
lent a helping hand;
But to that god, whom
of the heavenly band
He really honored most,
Alcides, prayed:
“Push at your
wheels,” the god appearing said,
“And goad your
team; but when you pray again,
Help yourself likewise,
or you’ll pray in vain.”