Maître Corbeau, sur un arbre perché,
Tenait en son bec un fromage.
Maître Renard, par l'odeur alléché,
Lui tint à peu près ce langage:
<Hé! bonjour, Monsieur du Corbeau.
Que vous êtes joli! que vous me semblez beau!
Sans mentir, si votre ramage
Se rapporte à votre plumage,
Vous êtes le phénix des hôtes de ces bois.>
A ces mots le corbeau ne se sent pas de joie;
Et pour montrer sa belle voix,
Il ouvre un large bec, laisse tomber sa proie.
Le renard s'en saisit, et dit: <Mon bon
Monsieur,
Apprenez que tout flatteur
Vit aux dépens de celui qui l'écoute:
Cette leçon vaut bien un fromage, sans doute.>
Le corbeau, honteux et confus,
Jura, mais un peu tard, qu'on ne l'y prendrait
plus.
La cigale, ayant chanté
Tout l'été,
Se trouva fort dépourvue
Quand la bise fut venue:
Pas le plus petit morceau
De mouche ou de vermisseau.
Elle alla crier famine,
Chez la fourmi sa voisine,
La priant de lui prêter1
Quelque grain pour subsister
Jusqu'à la saison nouvelle.
<Je vous paierai, lui dit elle,
Avant l'août, foi d'animal,
Intérêt et principal.>
La foumi n'est pas prêteuse:
C'est là son moindre défaut,
<Que faisiez-vous au temps chaud?>
Dit-elle à cette emprunteuse.
<Nuit et jour à tout venant
Je chantais, ne vous déplaise.>
<Vous chantiez? j'en suis fort aise.
Eh bien! dansez maintenant.>
La raison du plus fort est toujours la meilleure,
Nous l'allons montrer tout à l'heure.
Un agneau se désaltérait
Dans le courant d'une onde pure.
Un loup survient à jeun, qui cherchait
aventure,
Et que la faim en ces lieux attirait.
<Qui te rend si hardi de troubler mon breuvage?
Dit cet animal plein de rage:
Tu seras châtié de ta témérité.>
<Sire, répond l'agneau, que Votre Majesté
Ne se mette pas en colère:
Mais plutôt qu'elle considère
Que je me vas désaltérant
Dans le courant,
Plus de vingt pas au-dessous d'elle;
Et que par conséquent en aucune façon
Je ne puis troubler sa boisson.>
<Tu la troubles, reprit cette bête cruelle,
Et je sais que de moi tu médis l'an passé.>
<Comment l'aurais-je fait si je n'étais pas né?
Reprit l'agneau; je tette encor ma mère.>
<Si ce n'est toi, c'est donc ton frère.>
<Je n'en ai point.> _ <C'est donc quelqu'un
des tiens;
Car vous ne m'épargnez guère,
Vous, vos bergers, et vos chiens.
On me l'a dit: Il faut que je me venge.>
Là-dessus, au fond des forêts
Le loup l'emporte, et puis le mange,
Sans autre forme de procès.
1Saint-Saëns has "de lui donner", meaning "to give her".
Mr. Crow, hunched on a tree,
was holding a cheese in his beak.
Mr. Fox, enticed by the smell,
offered him roughly these words:
"Well! Hello, Sir Crow.
How pretty you are! How handsome you look!
Without telling a lie, if your song
compares to your plumage,
you are the phœnix of the denizens of these woods."
To these words the crow is overcome with joy;
and to show off his beautiful voice,
he opens a huge beak, lets his booty fall.
The fox grabs it for himself, and says: "My good
man,
learn that every flatterer
lives at the expense of the one who listens to him:
this lesson is well worth a cheese, no doubt."
The crow, ashamed and confused,
swore, but a little late, that none would ever deceive
him again.
The cicada, having sung
throughout the summer,
found herself thoroughly destitute
when the breeze came:
not the slightest piece
of fly or of worm.
She went to cry famine
to the ant, her neighbour,
begging her to lend her1
some grain to live on
until the new season.
"I shall pay you," she told her,
"before August, animal's honour,
both interest and principal."
The ant is no lender:
that is her least failing,
"What were you doing in the warm season?"
says she to this borrower.
"By night and by day, come what may,
I sang, does it not please you?"
"You sang? That suits me fine.
Well, now you must dance!"
The reasoning of the strongest is always the best,
we shall prove it by and by.
The lamb was quenching its thirst
in the current of a pure water.
A fasting wolf passed by which was seeking
adventure,
and which hunger attracted to these parts.
"Who makes you so bold as to disturb my drink?"
says this animal full of rage
"you will be castigated for your temerity."
"Sire," replies the lamb, "let not Your Majesty
get himself into a rage:
but rather let him consider
that I go to quench my thirst
in the current,
more than twenty paces below him;
and thereby in no way
shall I be able to disturb his drink."
"You disturb it," repeated this cruel beast,
"and I know that, about me, you speak ill of last year."
"How would I have done that if I was not born?"
replied the lamb; " I am still suckling my mother."
"If it's not you, then it is your brother."
"I have none." _ "Then it's one
of your family;
for you hardly spare me,
you, your shepherds, and your dogs.
I have been told: I must have my revenge."
Thereupon, into the depths of the forests
the wolf carries him, then eats him,
without any other kind of ceremony.
© translated by Christopher Goldsack
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