Our gallant, for the whole repast,
Produced a slender soup which—sad to state—
Was served upon an ordinary plate.
The Stork's long beak could hardly get a taste.
To be revenged upon this sinner.
The Stork in time invited him to dinner.
On such occasions it was not his way
To deal in vain excuses or delay;
The hour appointed came;
He scampered to the lodging of the dame
Who greeted him benignly.
The meal was cooked divinely;
His appetite was all a Fox's should be
Or could be.
The meat, cut up capriciously,
In little morsels, smelt deliciously.
But now—what puzzled much his wits—
Behold these dainty bits
Served in a long-necked Jar with outlet narrow.
Judge how it must his feeling harrow
To see the Stork's beak dodging in and out—
A thing impossible to Vulpine snout!
His hungry, homeward way he steers,
With tail between his legs, and drooping ears,
Feeling as much a victim
As if some common barn-door Fowl had tricked him!
(La Fontaine, Fables, Vol. I, No. 18. Translated by Paul Hookham.)
