The Two Doves

The Two Doves by Jean de La Fontaine

Two doves love one another like brothers, but one grows tired of domestic life and longs to see foreign scenes. His companion begs him not to leave, fearing rain, falcons, nets, hardship, and separation itself. The traveller hesitates, yet curiosity wins. He promises to return within three days with tales of wonders that will make his friend feel he has travelled too. They weep as they part. The wandering dove soon meets the dangers his companion predicted. Caught in a storm, he finds poor shelter beneath the only tree on a plain and is drenched. Later, seeing scattered wheat near a wood, he approaches to eat, trusting the presence of another dove, but discovers too late that the grain is bait in a snare. He escapes only by losing feathers and dragging a piece of string. A hawk sees him and pursues him, but an eagle descends and attacks the hawk, allowing the dove to flee. He rests on a ruined wall, believing himself safe, until a boy strikes him with a sling and badly injures him. Now lame in leg and wing, exhausted and cured of his desire for distant travel, the dove flies home and arrives at night in a miserable condition. The two doves reunite, and their joy repays their suffering. The fable urges lovers not to wander far from home, since each should find in the other an ever-renewing world of beauty, goodness, and truth. The speaker then recalls having loved and having valued the woods, fields, banks, and hillocks made precious by the presence of the woman to whom he gave his heart and pledged himself. He longs for such moments to return and wonders whether his withered heart could still awaken to love and find again the charm of bright and good things.

By Jean de La Fontaine · First published 1678 · Genre: Fable, Didactic Poetry, Animal Tale · 1,213 words

First lines

Two doves once cherish'd for each other / The love that brother hath for brother. / But one, of scenes domestic tiring, / To see the foreign world aspiring, / Was fool enough to undertake / A journey long, o'er land and lake. / 'What plan is this? ' the other cried; / 'Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side? / This absence is the worst of ills; / Thy heart may bear, but me it kills. / Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care, / Of which all travellers tell, / Your courage somewhat quell. / Still, if the season later were -- / O wait the zephyrs! -- hasten not -- / Just now the raven, on his oak, / In hoarser tones than usual spoke. / My heart forebodes the saddest lot, -- / The falcons, nets -- Alas, it rains! / My brother, are thy wants supplied -- / Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide, / And all that unto health pertains? ' / These words occasion'd some demur / In our imprudent traveller. / But restless curiosity / Prevail'd at last; and so said he, -- / 'The matter is not worth a sigh; / Three days, at most, will satisfy, / And then, returning, I shall tell / You all the wonders that befell, -- / With scenes enchanting and sublime / Shall sweeten all our coming time. / Who seeth nought, hath nought to say. / My travel's course, from day to day, / Will be the source of great delight. / A store of tales I shall relate, -- / Say there I lodged at such a date, / And saw there such and such a sight. / You'll think it all occurr'd to you. -- ' / On this, both, weeping, bade adieu. / Away the lonely wanderer flew. -- / A thunder-cloud began to lower; / He sought, as shelter from the shower, / The only tree that graced the plain, / Whose leaves ill turn'd the pelting rain. / The sky once more serene above, / On flew our drench'd and dripping dove, / And dried his plumage as he could. / Next, on the borders of a wood, / He spied some scatter'd grains of wheat, / Which one, he thought, might safely eat; / For there another dove he saw. -- / He felt the snare around him draw! / This wheat was but a treacherous bait / To lure poor pigeons to their fate. / The snare had been so long in use, / With beak and wings he struggled loose: / Some feathers perish'd while it stuck; / But, what was worst in point of luck, / A hawk, the cruellest of foes, / Perceived him clearly as he rose, / Off dragging, like a runaway, / A piece of string. The bird of prey / Had bound him, in a moment more, / Much faster than he was before, / But from the clouds an eagle came, / And made the hawk himself his game. / By war of robbers profiting, / The dove for safety plied the wing, / And, lighting on a ruin'd wall, / Believed his dangers ended all. / A roguish boy had there a sling, / (Age pitiless! / We must confess,) / And, by a most unlucky fling, / Half kill'd our hapless dove; / Who now, no more in love / With foreign travelling, / And lame in leg and wing, / Straight homeward urged his crippled flight, / Fatigued, but glad, arrived at night, / In truly sad and piteous plight. / The doves rejoin'd, I leave you all to say, / What pleasure might their pains repay. / Ah, happy lovers, would you roam? -- / Pray, let it not be far from home. / To each the other ought to be / A world of beauty ever new; / In each the other ought to see / The whole of what is good and true.

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French fable · verse fable · seventeenth-century literature · talking animals · doves · brotherly love · companionship · separation · travel and wandering · homesickness · curiosity · domestic life

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The Two Doves is listed on Textopian as a fable by Jean de La Fontaine, dated 1678 CE.

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