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Les obsèques de la Lionne [A french Fable, House category copy]

Valonyx

Lord of Altera
In my quest to provide Lavoyarde a proper, fleshed out culture and make sense for it to look similar to French, I have been researching old medieval poems and fables that could suit our culture. I have found a pretty fitting fable, ''Les obsèques de la Lionne'' by Jean de La Fontaine. I have taken the liberty of removing certain strophes that didn't quite fit or we'rent that pertinent to the general Fable, which is a bit too long.

I will put the French text here, then attempt to translate it myself, so please be nice to me!
The translation shall be under the Fable.

''Les obsèques de la lionne''
par Jean de La Fontaine

La femme du lion mourut;
Aussitôt chacun accourut
Pour s'acquitter envers le prince
De certains compliments de consolation,
Qui sont surcroît d'affliction.
Il fit avertir sa province
Que les obsèques se feraient
Un tel jour, en tel lieu; ses prévôts y seraient
Pour régler la cérémonie,
Et pour placer la compagnie.
Jugez si chacun s'y trouva.

Le prince aux cris s'abandonna,
Et tout son antre en résonna.
Les lions n'ont point d'autre temple.
On entendit, à son exemple,
Rugir en leurs patois messieurs les courtisans.
Je définis la cour un pays où les gens
Tristes, gais, prêts à tout, à tout indifférents,
Sont ce qu'il plaît au prince, ou, s'ils ne peuvent l'être,
Tâchent au moins de le paraître.

Le Cerf ne pleura point, comment eût-il pu faire?
Cette mort le vengeait; la reine avait jadis
Étranglé sa femme et son fils.
Bref, il ne pleura point. Un flatteur l'alla dire,
Et soutint qu'il l'avait vu rire.

La colère du Roi, comme dit Salomon,
Est terrible, et surtout celle du roi lion;
Mais ce cerf n'avait pas accoutumé de lire.
Le monarque lui dit: «Chétif hôte des bois
Tu ris, tu ne suis pas ces gémissantes voix.
Nous n'appliquerons point sur tes membres profanes
Nos sacrés ongles; venez, loups,
Vengez la reine, immolez tous
Ce traître à ses augustes mânes.»
Le Cerf reprit alors : «Sire, le temps de pleurs
Est passé; la douleur est ici superflue.

Votre digne moitié couchée entre des fleurs,
Tout près d'ici m'est apparue;
Et je l'ai d'abord reconnue.
''Ami, M'a-t-elle dit, garde ce convoi,
Quand je vais chez les Dieux, ne t'oblige à des larmes.
Aux Champs Élysiens j'ai gouté mille charmes,
Conversant avec ceux qui sont saints comme moi
Laisse agir quelque temps le désespoir du roi.
J'y prends plaisir.''» À peine on eut ouï la chose,
Le cerf eut un présent, bien loin d'être puni.
Amusez le roi par des songes,
Flattez-les, payez-les d'agréables mensonges,
Quelque indignation dont leur coeur soit rempli,
Ils goberont l'appât, vous serez leur ami.


'The Funeral of the Lioness'
by Jean de La Fontaine

The Lion's wife died;
Immediately, everyone ran
To carry to the prince
Compliments of some consolation
Which are additional affliction.
He sent word to his province
That the funeral would be
Such a day, at such place; its provosts there would be
To adjust the ceremony,
And to place the company.
Judge whether each found himself.

The prince gave way to the shouts,
And all rang in his Den.
Lions have no other Temple.
We heard after him,
Roaring in their tongues gentlemens and courtiers.
I define the court a country where people
Sad, joyful, ready for anything, at all indifferent
Are what pleases the prince, or, if they can not be,
Strive for at least appear so.

Hart did not cry, how could he do?
This death avenged; Queen had once
Strangled his wife and son.
In short, he did not cry. A flattering went to say
And claimed that he had seen him laugh.

The anger of the king, as Solomon says,
Is terrible, especially the lion king
But this deer was not accustomed to read.
The monarch said, "Puny host of the woods
You laugh, you do not follow these moaning voices.
We will apply in thy lay members
Our nails sacred; come, wolves,
Avenge the queen, slay all
Traitor to his manes august. "
Hart then went on: "Sir, the time crying
Is past; pain is warranted here.

Your worthy half lying between flowers,
Near here came to me;
And I first recognized.
'Friend, she told me, guard that convoy
When I go to the Gods, do not force yourself to tears.
in the Elysian Fields I tasted thousand charms
Conversing with those Saints like me
Allow to act for some time the King's despair
I enjoy it." As soon as the thing was heard,
The deer received a gift, far from being punished.
Please the kings by dreams
Flatter them, pay them pleasant lies,
However indignation that their heart is filled,
They will eat the bait, you will be their friend.
 
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