The Lion In Love
Fable de Jean de la Fontaine
 Fables of la Fontaine > Book IV > The Lion In Love |
| Sevigne, type of every grace In female form and face, In your regardlessness of men, Can you show favour when The sportive fable craves your ear, And see, unmoved by fear, A lion's haughty heart Thrust through by Love's audacious dart? Strange conqueror, Love! And happy he, And strangely privileged and free, Who only knows by story Him and his feats of glory! If on this subject you are wont To think the simple truth too blunt, The fabulous may less affront; Which now, inspired with gratitude, Yea, kindled into zeal most fervent, Does venture to intrude Within your maiden solitude, And kneel, your humble servant. In times when animals were speakers, Among the quadrupedal seekers Of our alliance There came the lions. And why not? for then They yielded not to men In point of courage or of sense, Nor were in looks without pretence. A high-born lion, on his way Across a meadow, met one day A shepherdess, who charmed him so, That, as such matters ought to go, He sought the maiden for his bride. Her sire, it cannot be denied, Had much preferred a son-in-law Of less terrific mouth and paw. It was not easy to decide The lion might the gift abuse It was not quite prudent to refuse. And if refusal there should be, Perhaps a marriage one would see, Some morning, made clandestinely. For, over and above The fact that she could bear With none but males of martial air, The lady was in love With him of shaggy hair. Her sire, much wanting cover To send away the lover, Thus spoke: My daughter, sir, Is delicate. I fear to her Your fond caressings Will prove rough blessings. To banish all alarm About such sort of harm, Permit us to remove the cause, By filing off your teeth and claws. In such a case, your royal kiss Will be to her a safer bliss, And to yourself a sweeter; Since she will more respond To those endearments fond With which you greet her. The lion gave consent at once, By love so great a dunce! Without a tooth or claw now view him A fort with cannon spiked. The dogs, let loose on him, slew him, All biting safely where they liked. O, tyrant Love! when held by you, We may to prudence bid adieu. |
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