Explore "The Ass and his Masters" by Jean de La Fontaine on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A gardener's ass complain'd to Destiny / Of being made to rise before the dawn. / 'The cocks their matins have not sung,' said he, / 'Ere I am up and gone. / And all for what? To market herbs, it seems. / Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams! ' / Fate, moved by such a prayer, / Sent him a currier's load to bear, / Whose hides so heavy and ill-scented were, / They almost choked the foolish beast. / 'I wish me with my former lord,' he said; / 'For then, whene'er he turn'd his head, / If on the watch, I caught / A cabbage-leaf, which cost me nought. / But, in this horrid place, I find / No chance or windfall of the kind: -- / Or if, indeed, I do, / The cruel blows I rue. ' / Anon it came to pass / He was a collier's ass. / Still more complaint. 'What now? ' said Fate, / Quite out of patience. / 'If on this jackass I must wait, / What will become of kings and nations? / Has none but he aught here to tease him? / Have I no business but to please him? ' / And Fate had cause; -- for all are so. / Unsatisfied while here below / Our present lot is aye the worst. / Our foolish prayers the skies infest. / Were Jove to grant all we request, / The din renew'd, his head would burst.[1]
[1]: Aesop.