| Back to the list of fables |

The Eagle and the Beetle

(Recueil 1, Livre 2, Fable 8)

 

 

John Rabbit, by Dame Eagle chased,

Was making for his hole in haste,

When, on his way, he met a beetle's burrow.

I leave you all to think

If such a little chink

Could to a rabbit give protection thorough.

But, since no better could be got,

John Rabbit there was fain to squat.

Of course, in an asylum so absurd,

John felt before long the talons of the bird.

But first, the beetle, interceding, cried,

"Great queen of birds, it cannot be denied,

That, maugre my protection, you can bear

My trembling guest, John Rabbit, through the air.

But do not give me such affront, I pray;

And since he craves your grace,

In pity of his case,

Grant him his life, or take us both away;

For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour."

In vain the beetle's friendly labour;

The eagle clutched her prey without reply,

And as she flapped her vasty wings to fly,

Struck down our orator and stilled him;

The wonder is she hadn't killed him.

The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest,

Flew to the old, gnarled mountain oak,

Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest.

And while the bird was gone,

Her eggs, her cherished eggs, he broke,

Not sparing one.

Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry,

Of rage and bitter anguish, filled the sky.

But, by excess of passion blind,

Her enemy she failed to find.

Her wrath in vain, that year it was her fate

To live a mourning mother, desolate.

The next, she built a loftier nest; It was vain;

The beetle found and dashed her eggs again.

John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew.

The second mourning for her murdered brood

Was such, that through the giant mountain wood,

For six long months, the sleepless echo flew.

The bird, once Ganymede, now made

Her prayer to Jupiter for aid;

And, laying them within his godship's lap,

She thought her eggs now safe from all mishap;

The god his own could not but make them

No wretch, would venture there to break them.

And no one did. Their enemy, this time,

Upsoaring to a place sublime,

Let fall on his royal robes some dirt,

Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt,

Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither.

When Jupiter informed her how the event

Occurred by purest accident,

The eagle raved; there was no reasoning with her;

She gave out threats of leaving court,

To make the desert her resort,

And other bravaries of this sort.

Poor Jupiter in silence heard

The uproar of his favourite bird.

Before his throne the beetle now appeared,

And by a clear complaint the mystery cleared.

The god pronounced the eagle in the wrong.

But still, their hatred was so old and strong,

These enemies could not be reconciled;

And, that the general peace might not be spoiled,

The best that he could do, the god arranged,

That thence the eagle's pairing should be changed,

To come when beetle folks are only found

Concealed and dormant under ground.

Jean de La Fontaine

Book 2, Fable 8

 

 

© avril 2007 - Mentions légales - Maître d'œuvre Formalog.info - Réalisation webservice02 - D. Forest -