The Villager and the Serpent
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Aesop tells of a peasant Charitable, but not too wise One winter's day was traveling Around the land he tended. He saw a serpent stretched out in the snow Cold and frozen, paralyzed Having little time to live. The villager took him home And, without considering the cost Of such an action, Laid him out before the fire Warmed him and revived him. The frozen serpent began to sense the warmth Which revived his soul as well as his evil nature. He lifted his head a bit and whistled; Coiled his body and then struck Against his benefactor, his saviour and his father. "Ingrate!" said the peasant. " 'Tis thus you repay me? You will die!" And with these words, in righteous rage He took a knife and sliced the beast Making 3 serpents with 2 cuts; A trunk, a head, and a tail. The evil one tried to rejoin himself But 'twas to no avail. Charity is a virtue but be careful toward whom There's no point showing it to ingrates who seal their own doom. =========================================== Le Villageois et le Serpent Esope conte qu'un Manant, Charitable autant que peu sage, Un jour d'Hiver se promenant A l'entour de son héritage, Aperçut un Serpent sur la neige étendu, Transi, gelé, perclus, immobile rendu, N'ayant pas à vivre un quart d'heure. Le Villageois le prend, l'emporte en sa demeure, Et sans considérer quel sera le loyer D'une action de ce mérite, Il l'étend le long du foyer, Le réchauffe, le ressuscite. L'Animal engourdi sent à peine le chaud, Que l'âme lui revient avecque la colère. Il lève un peu la tête, et puis siffle aussitôt, Puis fait un long repli, puis tâche à faire un saut Contre son bienfaiteur, son sauveur et son père. Ingrat, dit le Manant, voilà donc mon salaire ? Tu mourras. A ces mots, plein de juste courroux, Il vous prend sa cognée, il vous tranche la Bête, Il fait trois Serpents de deux coups, Un tronçon, la queue, et la tête. L'insecte sautillant cherche à se réunir, Mais il ne put y parvenir. Il est bon d'être charitable ; Mais envers qui ? c'est là le point. Quant aux ingrats, il n'en est point Qui ne meure enfin misérable. |
