The Fable of the Cicada and the Ant 



or six weeks of wassail, which is a long space 

 of time, the singer, exhausted by the strain 

 of life, drops from the tree. The sun dries 

 up the body; the feet of the passers-by crush 

 it. The Ant, always a highway-robber in 

 search of spoil, comes upon it. She cuts up 

 the rich dish, dissects it, carves it and reduces 

 it to morsels which go to swell her hoard of 

 provisions. It is not unusual to see a dying 

 Cicada, with his wing still quivering in the 

 dust, drawn and quartered by a gang of 

 knackers. He is quite black with them. 

 After this cannibalistic proceeding, there is 

 no question as to the true relations between 

 the two insects. 



The ancients held the Cicada in high 

 favour. Anacreon, the Greek Beranger, 1 de- 

 voted an ode to singing his praises in curi- 

 ously exaggerated language : 



" Thou art almost like unto the gods," 

 says he. 



The reasons which he gives for this 

 apotheosis are none of the best. They con- 

 sist of these three privileges : yyyevijs, ana- 

 dr}Z, dvaifxoffapxBj earthborn, insensible to 

 pain, bloodless. Let us not start reproaching 



'Pierre Jean de Beranger (1780-1857), the popular 

 French lyric poet. — Translator's Note. 



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