A small patch of snow finding itself clinging to the top of a rock which was lying on the topmost height of a very high mountain and being left to its own imaginings, it began to reflect in this way, saying to itself:  “Now, shall not I be thought vain and proud for having placed myself—­such a small patch of snow—­in so lofty a spot, and for allowing that so large a quantity of snow as I have seen here around me, should take a place lower than mine?  Certainly my small dimensions by no means merit this elevation.  How easily may I, in proof of my insignificance, experience the same fate as that which the sun brought about yesterday to my companions, who were all, in a few hours, destroyed by the sun.  And this happened from their having placed themselves higher than became them.  I will flee from the wrath of the sun, and humble myself and find a place befitting my small importance.”  Thus, flinging itself down, it began to descend, hurrying from its high home on to the other snow; but the more it sought a low place the more its bulk increased, so that when at last its course was ended on a hill, it found itself no less in size than the hill which supported it; and it was the last of the snow which was destroyed that summer by the sun.  This is said for those who, humbling themselves, become exalted.

Fables on plants (1275-1279).

1275.

The cedar, being desirous of producing a fine and noble fruit at its summit, set to work to form it with all the strength of its sap.  But this fruit, when grown, was the cause of the tall and upright tree-top being bent over.

The peach, being envious of the vast quantity of fruit which she saw borne on the nut-tree, her neighbour, determined to do the same, and loaded herself with her own in such a way that the weight of the fruit pulled her up by the roots and broke her down to the ground.

The nut-tree stood always by a road side displaying the wealth of its fruit to the passers by, and every one cast stones at it.

The fig-tree, having no fruit, no one looked at it; then, wishing to produce fruits that it might be praised by men, it was bent and broken down by them.

The fig-tree, standing by the side of the elm and seeing that its boughs were bare of fruit, yet that it had the audacity to keep the Sun from its own unripe figs with its branches, said to it:  “Oh elm! art thou not ashamed to stand in front of me.  But wait till my offspring are fully grown and you will see where you are!” But when her offspring were mature, a troop of soldiers coming by fell upon the fig-tree and her figs were all torn off her, and her boughs cut away and broken.  Then, when she was thus maimed in all her limbs, the elm asked her, saying:  “O fig-tree! which was best, to be without offspring, or to be brought by them into so miserable a plight!”

1276.

The plant complains of the old and dry stick which stands by its side and of the dry stakes that surround it.