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A malady that spreads terror,\r
A scourge that Heaven in its fury\r
Invented to punish the crimes of the earth,\r
The Plague (since it must be called by its name)\r
Capable of enriching Acheron in a day,\r
Waged war on the animals.\r
They did not all die, but all were struck:\r
None were seen occupied\r
In seeking the support of a dying life;\r
No food excited their desire;\r
Neither Wolves nor Foxes lurked\r
For the gentle and innocent prey.\r
The Turtledoves fled from each other:\r
No more love, hence no more joy.\r
The Lion held council, and said: My dear friends,\r
I believe that Heaven has permitted\r
For our sins this misfortune;\r
That the most guilty among us\r
Should sacrifice himself to the arrows of celestial wrath,\r
Perhaps he will obtain the common healing.\r
History teaches us that in such accidents\r
Such devotions are made:\r
Let us not flatter ourselves then; let us see without indulgence\r
The state of our conscience. For my part, satisfying my gluttonous appetites\r
I have devoured many sheep.\r
What had they done to me? No offense:\r
Even it has happened to me sometimes to eat\r
The Shepherd.\r
I will devote myself then, if need be; but I think\r
It is good that each accuse himself as I do:\r
For one should wish according to all justice\r
That the most guilty perish.\r
– Sire, said the Fox, you are too good a King;\r
Your scruples show too much delicacy;\r
Well then, to eat sheep, rabble, stupid species,\r
Is that a sin? No, no. You did them, Seigneur\r
In crunching them much honor.\r
And as for the Shepherd one can say\r
He was worthy of all evils,\r
Being of those people who over animals\r
Make a chimerical empire.\r
Thus said the Fox, and flatterers applauded.\r
One did not dare too deeply examine\r
Of the Tiger, nor of the Bear, nor of the other powers,\r
The least pardonable offenses.\r
All quarrelsome people, down to the simple mastiffs,\r
By everyone’s account, were little saints.\r
The Ass came in his turn and said: I remember\r
That passing through a Monks’ meadow,\r
Hunger, opportunity, tender grass, and I think\r
Some devil also urging me,\r
I cropped from that meadow the width of my tongue.\r
I had no right to it, since I must speak plainly.\r
At these words they cried haro on the donkey.\r
A Wolf somewhat cleric proved by his harangue\r
That this cursed animal must be devoted,\r
This mangy, this scabby one, from whom came all their ill.\r
His peccadillo was judged a hanging case.\r
To eat the grass of others! what an abominable crime!\r
Nothing but death was capable\r
Of expiating his crime: they made him see it well.\r
According to whether you are powerful or miserable,\r
The judgments of court will render you white or black.
Jean de La Fontaine
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/fable-the-animals-sick-of-the-plague-jean-de-la-fontaine/