You are here
قراءة كتاب Fables
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 1
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Fables, by Sir Ronald Ross
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
Title: Fables
Author: Sir Ronald Ross
Release Date: February 4, 2015 [eBook #48153]
Language: English
Character set encoding: UTF-8
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FABLES***
E-text prepared by David T. Jones, Mardi Desjardins, Neanderthal,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive
(https://archive.org)
| Note: | Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See https://archive.org/details/fablesronaldross00rossrich |
FABLES
BY
RONALD ROSS
OF WHICH COPIES TO THE NUMBER OF TWO HUNDRED AND
|
Entered at Stationers’ Hall
For my Children
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
These Fables were written in India
between the years 1880 and 1890
between the years 1880 and 1890
CONTENTS
An Expostulation with Truth
Uttered by the Well Meaning Poet
Altho’ you live aloft so far,
Transcendent Goddess, in your star,
Pray, try to see us as we are.
Transcendent Goddess, in your star,
Pray, try to see us as we are.
Consider—and be more forgiving—
Life is not reasoning but believing,
And we must work to get our living.
Life is not reasoning but believing,
And we must work to get our living.
Expound with logic most exact
And rightly marshal every fact—
D’you think we thank you for your act?
And rightly marshal every fact—
D’you think we thank you for your act?
D’you think we’ve nothing else to do
But to distinguish false from true?—
We’re lawyers, doctors, parsons too.
But to distinguish false from true?—
We’re lawyers, doctors, parsons too.
But for our little fond delusions
We’d never come to our conclusions,
And then—just think of the confusions!
We’d never come to our conclusions,
And then—just think of the confusions!
You pain us when you contradict.
Your presence would the less afflict
If you were not so very strict.
Your presence would the less afflict
If you were not so very strict.
Dear Lady, take this sober view,
It matters little what is true—
The world is not the place for you.
It matters little what is true—
The world is not the place for you.
I rede you therefore, go away;
Or, if you really mean to stay,
Let’s hear your views another day.
Or, if you really mean to stay,
Let’s hear your views another day.
Ariel and the Hippopotamus
Dedicated to Rural Magnates
Fine Ariel, serf to Prospero,
Sped on the Great Meridian
For jetty pearls from Andaman
To make a chaplet to declare
The beauty of Miranda’s hair,
When at the desert African,
Out of his master’s ken, and slow,
Lag’d on his errand, loth to go:
For sweltering Sol with leaden beam
Made stagnant all the windy stream
And suck’d from earth a stifling steam.
There idling still, the lazy Sprite
Beheld below, beneath his flight,
The Lord of Rivers, blackly bright,
Who, planted in a marshy bed,
On mighty rushes munching fed
And sigh’d for more the more he sped.
‘Good day, my lord; I hope you’re well,’
Quoth then the jocund Ariel.
‘Why, thank’ee, Sir, sound as a bell;
Save I’d complain, did I but choose,
My appetite’s so poor I lose
Half this fine fodder. What’s the news?’
‘Great Sir, the news I brought away
Is not so good, I’m sad to say—
Jove has the gout again to-day.’
‘Why,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That ain’t no call to make a fuss;
I’ve had the same and am no wuss.’
‘’Tis said that Cytherea, queen
Of beauty, weds to-day at e’en
The sooty Vulcan hump’d and mean.’
‘There,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That party I will not discuss.
She might have me and do no wuss.’
‘Apollo, lord of lay and lyre,
Hath seated now his Heavenly Choir
Upon Parnassus’ starry spire.’
‘Foh!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘For that I do not care a cuss,
And they may sing until they bus’!’
‘Jove, sad for Io, hath aver’d
No sound of laughter shall be heard
One year in Heav’n, nor witty word.’
‘Ah!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That there don’t suit the likes of us.
I vow I won’t be muzzled thus.’
‘Farewell, Sir,’ quoth the lissom Sprite;
‘Behoves me tear me from your sight.
I must about the world ere night.’
‘Farewell, young friend,’ responded he;
‘The work I have to do you see.
But if you hear the Thund’rer sigh
For counsel, Mars for an ally,
Dian for love, I think that I—
I pray you say a word for me.’
Sped on the Great Meridian
For jetty pearls from Andaman
To make a chaplet to declare
The beauty of Miranda’s hair,
When at the desert African,
Out of his master’s ken, and slow,
Lag’d on his errand, loth to go:
For sweltering Sol with leaden beam
Made stagnant all the windy stream
And suck’d from earth a stifling steam.
There idling still, the lazy Sprite
Beheld below, beneath his flight,
The Lord of Rivers, blackly bright,
Who, planted in a marshy bed,
On mighty rushes munching fed
And sigh’d for more the more he sped.
‘Good day, my lord; I hope you’re well,’
Quoth then the jocund Ariel.
‘Why, thank’ee, Sir, sound as a bell;
Save I’d complain, did I but choose,
My appetite’s so poor I lose
Half this fine fodder. What’s the news?’
‘Great Sir, the news I brought away
Is not so good, I’m sad to say—
Jove has the gout again to-day.’
‘Why,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That ain’t no call to make a fuss;
I’ve had the same and am no wuss.’
‘’Tis said that Cytherea, queen
Of beauty, weds to-day at e’en
The sooty Vulcan hump’d and mean.’
‘There,’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That party I will not discuss.
She might have me and do no wuss.’
‘Apollo, lord of lay and lyre,
Hath seated now his Heavenly Choir
Upon Parnassus’ starry spire.’
‘Foh!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘For that I do not care a cuss,
And they may sing until they bus’!’
‘Jove, sad for Io, hath aver’d
No sound of laughter shall be heard
One year in Heav’n, nor witty word.’
‘Ah!’ said the Hippopotamus,
‘That there don’t suit the likes of us.
I vow I won’t be muzzled thus.’
‘Farewell, Sir,’ quoth the lissom Sprite;
‘Behoves me tear me from your sight.
I must about the world ere night.’
‘Farewell, young friend,’ responded he;
‘The work I have to do you see.
But if you hear the Thund’rer sigh
For counsel, Mars for an ally,
Dian for love, I think that I—
I pray you say a word for me.’
The Frog, the Fairy, and the Moon
Dedicated to Lovers
The Frog that loved the Changing Star
Was worship’d by a Fairy,
Who made for him a waistcoat trim
Of silk and satin, soft and airy,
Button’d with eyes of fireflies
In manner military.
And more to move his languid love
A crimson cap she made him,
According to many, plumed with antennae
Of moths that rob the flowers’ honey;
And with her kisses, lovers’ money,
For that she gave she paid him.
She fed him too, till he was blue,
With endearing terms on caddis worms;
And caught for him the wriggling germs
Of midges; and with tender pats
She wiled and woo’d him while he chew’d ’em:
Till he said, ‘Bother! I love another.
I love the Star I see afar,
That changeth oft her fires so soft
From blue to red and red to blue;
And that is why I love not you.
Therefore I pray you take away
Your tedious arm, which does me harm
Because it makes me feel too warm.
But give to me my new guitar
That I may sing to yonder Star.’
With that he gaped and guggled so
The Fairy into fits did go;
And he bounded near and bounded far,
Strumming the strings of his guitar,
And tried to reach the Changing Star.
And all the while with his splay feet
Kept time unto the music meet.
With hat and waistcoat on he sprang,
And as he bounded still he sang.
And this the Saga says is why
The Frog he always jumps so high;
For, though the Star is very far,
To reach it he must ever try,
Until it’s time for him to die.
Was worship’d by a Fairy,
Who made for him a waistcoat trim
Of silk and satin, soft and airy,
Button’d with eyes of fireflies
In manner military.
And more to move his languid love
A crimson cap she made him,
According to many, plumed with antennae
Of moths that rob the flowers’ honey;
And with her kisses, lovers’ money,
For that she gave she paid him.
She fed him too, till he was blue,
With endearing terms on caddis worms;
And caught for him the wriggling germs
Of midges; and with tender pats
She wiled and woo’d him while he chew’d ’em:
Till he said, ‘Bother! I love another.
I love the Star I see afar,
That changeth oft her fires so soft
From blue to red and red to blue;
And that is why I love not you.
Therefore I pray you take away
Your tedious arm, which does me harm
Because it makes me feel too warm.
But give to me my new guitar
That I may sing to yonder Star.’
With that he gaped and guggled so
The Fairy into fits did go;
And he bounded near and bounded far,
Strumming the strings of his guitar,
And tried to reach the Changing Star.
And all the while with his splay feet
Kept time unto the music meet.
With hat and waistcoat on he sprang,
And as he bounded still he sang.
And this the Saga says is why
The Frog he always jumps so high;
For, though the Star is very far,
To reach it he must ever try,
Until it’s time for him to die.
As for the foolish Fay, ’tis wist,
She wept herself into a mist,
Which wanders where the Clouds are
She wept herself into a mist,
Which wanders where the Clouds are