God. If, however, you have not strength to write, beg M. Racine to do me
that kindness, the greatest he can ever do for me. Adieu, my good, my
old, and my true friend. May God, in his infinite, goodness, take care of
the health of your body, and that of your soul." He died the 13th of
April, 1695, at the age of seventy-three, and was buried in the cemetery
of the Saints-Innocents.

When Fenelon heard of his death, he wrote a Latin eulogium, which he gave
to his royal pupil to translate. "La Fontaine is no more!" said Fenelon,
in this composition; "he is no more! and with him have gone the playful
jokes, the merry laugh, the artless graces, and the sweet Muses."

* * * * *

THE FABLES OF LA FONTAINE

* * * * *

To Monseigneur The Dauphin.[1]

I sing the heroes of old Aesop's line,
Whose tale, though false when strictly we define,
Containeth truths it were not ill to teach.
With me all natures use the gift of speech;
Yea, in my work, the very fishes preach,
And to our human selves their sermons suit.
'Tis thus, to come at man, I use the brute.

Son of a Prince the favourite of the skies,
On whom the world entire hath fix'd its eyes,