The Satyr (2)

Before long, the Philosopher told the story,

"A Satyr, as he was ranging the forest in an exceeding cold snowy season, met with a Traveller, half-starved with the extremity of the weather. He took compassion on him, and kindly invited him home to a warm comfortable cave he had in the hollow of a rock.

As soon as they had entered and sat down, notwithstanding there was a good fire in the place, the chill Traveller could not forbear blowing his fingers’ ends. Upon the Satyr’s asking him, why he did so; he answered, that he did it to warm his hands.

The honest Sylvan, the Satyr, having seen little of the world, admired a man who was master of so valuable a quality as that of blowing heat, and therefore was resolved to entertain him in the best manner he could. He spread the table before him with dried fruits of several sorts [remember lanx satura I told you before]; and produced a remnant of cold cordial wine, which, as the rigour of the season made very proper, he mulled with some warm spices, infused over the fire, and presented to his shivering guest.

But this, the Traveller, thought fit to blow likewise; and upon the Satyr’s demanding a reason why he blowed again, he replied, to cool his dish. This second answer provoked the Satyr’s indignation, as much as the first had kindled his surprise: so, taking the Man by the shoulder, he thrust him out of doors, saying, he would have nothing to do with a wretch who had so vile a quality as to blow hot and cold with the same mouth."

"Though the poor Traveller in the Fable was not guilty of any real crime in what he did," said the Philosopher, "yet, one cannot help approving the honest simplicity of the Satyr, who could not be reconciled to such double dealing, worse than the Satyr himself.

As I said before, nothing can be more offensive to one of a sincere heart, than he that blows with a different breath from the same mouth. Lately, a lot of narrations have been exhaled, one of which has not been completed, the next one has also emerged, which causes a commotion and leaves no time for us, as a colleague said, 'It makes us unable to take care of ourselves and our families. They asked for more and snatched everything!"

Don’t be led astray and you’ll shine for more than a day. Hear the story of the strange hermit who was camping in a meadow,

The toilsome hours of day were spent, and the world seemed wrapt in calm content. When each anxious care forsook the breast, sleep gently closed each eye to rest: Cynthia her brightest aspect wore, and heavens expanse was studded over.

A strange hermit, by his meditation, drawn, then forsook his tend, and sought the meadow. He strayed in a deep contemplation, surveyed the nature’s dozing charms; viewing on either band new beauties, as he pursuied his tranquil path, where many lay, lined jugs and piles of soil of various brands, and, one of them, he noticed, send from the land of aquariums.

By chance, in his way, there waa a Glow-worm, shot forth his little glittering ray; proudly unfolding every grace, as trailing round from place to place, illumining the moss-fring’d plain, and looked disdain on other worms.

The Hermit, somewhat with his philosophic eye, surveyed the wanderer crawling by, then stooping low with his restless hand, high lifts him from the dew-fraught land. The grub, though was not dismayed through fear, be conscioused he was not in his sphere, withdrewed his beam of light away, to hear what a man, vain man! would say.

The learned Hermit, amazed, paused for some time and gazed anxiously; astonished that the worm should die so soon, then carelessly threw it. But first, this application made, ‘This creeping reptile, lo! is dead, and with his life his glory’s fled, so is’t with all ambition’s race, who fill up each exalted place; brilliant they shine with borrowed ray, and wanton in the blaze of day, till fortune’s second wheel turns round, and leaves them, where they first were found.’

The Glow-worm with attention heard and weighed with prudence every word, trimmed bright his little lamp again, and shone more beauteous o’er the plain. Then thus address’d the wondering Hermit, the known storyteller of the age: ‘Know thou, the happy power to shine? Is truly man’s as well as mine, I know my sphere: did he the same. He’d tread that path that leads to fame. Hid he in dang’rous times retire? And check with care ambition’s fire; Like me, he might new lustre spread, and deck with laurels fresh his head: But, coxcomb-like, he’s led astray to shine, and shines but for a day.’

"On my part," said the brilliant Philosopher, "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and a loving favour rather than silver and gold. He that followeth after righteousness, findeth righteousness and honor.

There was a sage Philosopher, who was well versed in all knowledge, natural as well as moral, was one day, found in a cemetery deeply absorbed in contemplating two human skeletons, which lay before him–the one that of a duke, the other of a common beggar. After some time he made this exclamation, “If skilful anatomists have made it appear that the bones, nerves, muscles, and entrails of all men are made after the same manner and form, surely, this is a most convincing proof that true nobility is situated in the sound mind and heart, not in the blood. All go into one place, all are of the dust, and all turn to dust again. The rich and the poor meet together: the Mighty All-Creator is the Maker of them all."

The Philosopher looked at his pocket watch and said, "Now, it is my time!" And moments later, he stepped into a room filled with people, who greeted him within a sound determination,

And for every song, there's a song we're not singing

For every step, there's a step we're not taking

So let me know if there's something I'm missing

'Cause this is all I need

So say we'll be always, always

Say it will be you and me 'til the old days

Let us be always, always

Through the highs and the lows, we'll be always *)

The Moon wrapped up with words, "Togetherness, in this 'context,' at the beginning, considered as Prohibited, but after exploring line by line of the verse, by observing word by word, it is Permissible, though there is an attempt to disguise the Permissive label, seen as Prohibited. The Rolling Snowball has broken the small helpless branches, and must immediatelyy be melted, so that the heaps of snow, do not hit the folkstown houses at the foothill. Why then, still being hesitated? And Allah knows best."

Citations & References:
- J.B. Rundell, Aesop's Fables, Cassell, Petter and Galpin
- Samuel Croxall, D.D., Fables of Aesop and Others, Simon Probasco
*) "Always" written by Isak Ocke Danielson, Kristofer Ulf Oestergren & Olle Lars Anders Blomstroem

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