The Fox and the Lion (Aesop's Fables)
The Fox and the Lion (Joseph Jacobs's Version)
When first the Fox saw the Lion he was terribly frightened, and ran away and hid himself in the wood. Next time however he came near the King of Beasts he stopped at a safe distance and watched him pass by. The third time they came near one another the Fox went straight up to the Lion and passed the time of day with him, asking him how his family were, and when he should have the pleasure of seeing him again; then turning his tail, he parted from the Lion without much ceremony.
Familiarity breeds contempt.
(From the book The Fables of Aesop: Selected, Told Anew, and Their History Traced by Joseph Jacobs, done into pictures by Richard Heighway — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (George Fyler Townsend's Version)
When a Fox who had never yet seen a Lion, fell in with him by chance for the first time in the forest, he was so frightened that he nearly died with fear. On meeting him for the second time, he was still much alarmed, but not to the same extent as at first. On seeing him the third time, he so increased in boldness that he went up to him and commenced a familiar conversation with him.
Acquaintance softens prejudices.
(From the book Three Hundred Æsop’s Fables Literally Translated from the Greek by the Rev. George Fyler Townsend, M.A. — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (V. S. Vernon Jones's Version)
A Fox who had never seen a Lion one day met one, and was so terrified at the sight of him that he was ready to die with fear. After a time he met him again, and was still rather frightened, but not nearly so much as he had been when he met him first. But when he saw him for the third time he was so far from being afraid that he went up to him and began to talk to him as if he had known him all his life.
(From the book Aesop's Fables: A New Translation by V. S. Vernon Jones, with an introduction by G. K. Chesterton and illustrations by Arthur Rackham — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (Milo Winter's Version)
A very young Fox, who had never before seen a Lion, happened to meet one in the forest. A single look was enough to send the Fox off at top speed for the nearest hiding place.
The second time the Fox saw the Lion he stopped behind a tree to look at him a moment before slinking away. But the third time, the Fox went boldly up to the Lion and, without turning a hair, said, "Hello, there, old top."
Familiarity breeds contempt.
Acquaintance with evil blinds us to its dangers.
(From the book The Æsop for Children, with pictures by Milo Winter — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (J. H. Stickney's Version)
A Little fox was out playing one day, when a Lion came roaring along. “Dear me,” said the Fox, as he hid behind a tree, “I never saw a Lion before. What a terrible creature! His voice makes me tremble.”
The next time the Fox met the Lion he was not so much afraid, but he kept a safe distance and said to himself, “I wish he would not make such a noise!”
The third time they met, the Fox was not frightened at all. He ran up to the Lion, and said, “What are you roaring about?”
And the Lion was so taken by surprise that, without saying a word, he let the Fox walk away.
It would not be safe for little foxes always to follow the example of this one; but it is often true that what our fear makes seem a lion in the way has no danger in it if we meet it bravely.
The Fox and the Lion (J. H. Stickney's Version)
The first time the Fox saw the Lion, he was ready to die of fear. The second time he took courage and could even bear to look upon him. The third time he had the impudence to come up to him, to salute him, and to enter into familiar conversation with him.
(From the book Æsop’s Fables: A Version for Young Readers by J. H. Stickney, illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (Samuel Croxall's Version)
The first time the Fox saw the Lion, he fell down at his feet, and was ready to die with fear. The second time, he took courage, and could even bear to look upon him. The third time, he had the impudence to come up to him, to salute him, and to enter into familiar conversation with him.
Application
From this fable we may observe the two extremes in which we may fail, as to a proper behaviour towards our superiors: the one is a bashfulness, proceeding either from a vicious guilty mind, or a timorous rusticity; the other, an over-bearing impudence, which assumes more than becomes it, and so renders the person insufferable to the conversation of well-bred reasonable people. But there is this difference between the bashfulness that arises from a want of education, and the shamefacedness that accompanies conscious guilt; the first, by a continuance of time and a nearer acquaintance, may be ripened into a proper liberal behaviour; the other no sooner finds an easy practicable access, but it throws off all manner of reverence, grows every day more and more familiar, and branches out into the utmost indecency and irregularity. Indeed, there are many occasions which may happen to cast an awe, or even a terror, upon our minds at first view, without any just and reasonable grounds; but upon a little recollection, or a nearer insight, we recover ourselves, and can appear indifferent and unconcerned, where, before, we were ready to sink under a load of diffidence and fear. We should, upon such occasions, use our endeavours to regain a due degree of steadiness and resolution; but, at the same time, we must have a care that our efforts in that respect do not force the balance too much, and make it rise to an unbecoming freedom and an offensive familiarity.
(From the book Æsop's Fables, Embellished with One Hundred and Eleven Emblematical Devices. Translator: Samuel Croxall — Public Domain)
The Fox and the Lion (Thomas Bewick's Version)
The first time the Fox saw the Lion, he fell down at his feet, and was ready to die with fear. The second time he took courage, and could even bear to look upon him. The third time he had the impudence to come up to him, to salute him, and to enter into familiar conversation with him.
Application
From this Fable we may observe the two extremes in which we may fail as to a proper behaviour towards our superiors. The one is a bashfulness, proceeding either from a vicious guilty mind, or a timorous rusticity; the other an over-bearing impudence, which assumes more than becomes it, and so renders the person insufferable to the conversation of well-bred reasonable people. But there is a difference between the bashfulness which arises from a want of education, and the shame-facedness that accompanies conscious guilt: the first by time and a nearer acquaintance, may be ripened into a proper liberal behaviour; the other no sooner finds an easy practicable access, but it throws off all manner of reverence, grows every day more and more familiar, and branches out at last into the utmost indecency and irregularity. Indeed there are many occasions which may happen to cast an awe, or even a terror, upon our minds at first view, without any just or reasonable grounds; but upon a little recollection, or a nearer insight, we recover ourselves, and can appear indifferent and unconcerned, where before we were ready to sink under a load of diffidence and fear. We should upon such occasions use our endeavours to regain a due degree of steadiness and resolution; but at the same time we must have a care that our efforts in that respect do not force the balance too much, and make it rise to an unbecoming freedom, and an offensive familiarity.
(From the book The Fables of Æsop, and Others, with designs on wood by Thomas Bewick — Public Domain)