L’Éducation Bilingue Français/Anglais

L’Éducation

Laridon et César, frères dont l’origine
Venait de chiens fameux, beaux, bien faits et hardis,
A deux maîtres divers échus au temps jadis,
Hantaient l’un les forêts, et l’autre la cuisine.
Ils avaient eu d’abord chacun un autre nom;
Mais la diverse nourriture
Fortifiant en l’un cette heureuse nature,
En l’autre l’altérant, un certain marmiton
Nomma celui-ci Laridon.
Son frère, ayant couru mainte haute aventure,
Mis maint cerf aux abois, maint sanglier abattu,
Fut le premier César que la gent chienne ait eu.
On eut soin d’empêcher qu’une indigne maîtresse
Ne fît en ses enfants dégénérer son sang.
Laridon négligé témoignait sa tendresse
A l’objet le premier passant.
Il peupla tout de son engeance:
Tournebroches par lui rendus communs en France
Y font un corps à part, gens fuyant les hasards,
Peuple antipode des Césars.

On ne suit pas toujours ses aïeux ni son père:
Le peu de soin, le temps, tout fait qu’on dégénère.
Faute de cultiver la nature et ses dons,
Oh! combien de Césars deviendront Laridons!

Education

Lapluck and Caesar brothers were, descended
From dogs by Fame the most commended,
Who falling, in their puppyhood,
To different masters anciently,
One dwelt and hunted in the boundless wood;
From thieves the other kept a kitchen free.
At first, each had another name;
But, by their bringing up, it came,
While one improved upon his nature,
The other grew a sordid creature,
Till, by some scullion called Lapluck,
The name ungracious ever stuck.
To high exploits his brother grew,
Put many a stag at bay, and tore
Full many a trophy from the boar;
In short, him first, of all his crew,
The world as Caesar knew;
And care was had, lest, by a baser mate,
His noble blood should e’er degenerate.
Not so with his neglected brother;
He made whatever came a mother;
And, by the laws of population,
His race became a countless nation–
The common turnspits throughout France–
Where danger is, they don’t advance–
Precisely the antipodes
Of what we call the Caesars, these!

Oft falls the son below his sire’s estate:
Through want of care all things degenerate.
For lack of nursing Nature and her gifts.
What crowds from gods become mere kitchen-thrifts!