The Eagle and the Beetle by Jean de La Fontaine

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 ere 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 clutch'd her prey without reply, / And as she flapp'd her vasty wings to fly, / Struck down our orator and still'd him; / The wonder is she hadn't kill'd him. / The beetle soon, of sweet revenge in quest, / Flew to the old, gnarl'd mountain oak, / Which proudly bore that haughty eagle's nest. / And while the bird was gone, / Her eggs, her cherish'd eggs, he broke, / Not sparing one. / Returning from her flight, the eagle's cry, / Of rage and bitter anguish, fill'd the sky. / But, by excess of passion blind, / Her enemy she fail'd 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; 'twas vain; / The beetle found and dash'd her eggs again. / John Rabbit's death was thus revenged anew. / The second mourning for her murder'd 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 upon his royal robes some dirt, / Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, / Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. / When Jupiter inform'd her how th' event / Occurr'd 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 brav'ries of this sort. / Poor Jupiter in silence heard / The uproar of his favourite bird. / Before his throne the beetle now appear'd, / And by a clear complaint the mystery clear'd. / 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 spoil'd, -- / 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 / Conceal'd and dormant under ground.[1]

[1]: Aesop.