The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg Page #2

The Two Rats, the Fox, and the Egg is a fable by Jean de La Fontaine which revolves around the story of two rats who find an egg and decide to roll it all the way back to their nest. However, on their way, they encounter a fox who cleverly tricks them into losing their found treasure. The story exemplifies themes of greed and deception and teaches the reader about the dangers of being overly trusting and not thinking wisely.

• Fable

								

I know not what it is, nor whence.
That secret must for ever lie
Hid by God's awful majesty.
Descartes knew just as much as I:
In other things he may supplant
All men; he's here as ignorant.
But, Iris, this, at least, I know,--
That no such lofty souls endow
The beasts of whom I've made example:--
Of soul, man only is the temple.
Yet must we to the beasts accord
Some sense the plant-world can't afford;
And even plants have humble lives.
But let me add one story still;
And let me know how much your skill
Of moral from its facts derives.

Two Rats, seeking something to eat, found an Egg:
For such folks, to have something to eat is sufficient;
And seldom or never you'll find that they beg
Of the gods turtle soup, or a French cook proficient.
Full of appetite, nimbly they sat down to eat,
And soon from the shell would have drawn out the meat,
When a Fox in the distance appeared, to molest them,
And a question arose, which most greatly distress'd them,--
No other, as you may suppose, but the way
The Egg from Sir Reynard's keen snout to convey.
To drag it behind them, or roll it on floor,
To pack it behind them, or shove it before,
Were the plans tried in turn, but were all tried in vain.
When at length the old mother of arts[1] made it plain
That, if one on his back held the Egg in his paw,
The other from danger could readily draw.
The plan was successful, in spite of some jolting;
And we leave the two sages their pleasant meal bolting.

    Who shall, after this, declare
    That beasts devoid of reason are?
    For my part, I'll to beasts allow
    The sense that dwells in childhood's brow.
    Reason, from childhood's earliest years,
    In all its acts and ways appears;
    And so it seems to me quite plain
    That without soul there may be brain.
    I give to beasts a sort of mind,
    Compared to ours, a league behind.
    Some matter I would subtilise,
    Some matter hard to analyse,
    Some atoms essence, light's extract;
    Fire, subtlest of all things; in fact,
    The flames that out of wood arise
    Enable us to form some thought
    Of what the soul is. Silver lies
    Involved in lead. Beasts' brains are wrought
    So that they think and judge;--no more.
    They judge imperfectly. 'Tis sure
    No ape could ever argue. Then
    Above all beasts I'll place us men;
    For to us men a double treasure
    Belongs--that sense which, in some measure,
    To all things living here below,
    The wise and foolish, high and low,
    Is common; and that holier spirit
    Which men, with seraphim, inherit.
    And, oh! this loftier soul can fly
    Through all the wondrous realms of sky:
    On smallest point can lie at ease;
    And though commenced shall never cease.
    Things strange, but true. In infancy
    This soul must dim and feeble be;
    But ripening years its frame develop,
    And then it bursts the gross envelope
    Which still in fetters always binds,
    In men and beasts, the lower minds.

[1] Necessity, the mother of invention.
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