Des laboureurs vivoient paisibles & contents
\nDans un riche & nombreux village ;
\nD\u00e8s l\u2019aurore ils alloient travailler \u00e0 leurs champs,
\nLe soir ils revenoient chantants
\nAu sein d\u2019un tranquille m\u00e9nage ;
\nEt la nature bonne & sage,
\nPour prix de leurs travaux, leur donnoit tous les ans
\nDe beaux bleds & de beaux enfants.
\nMais il faut bien souffrir, c\u2019est notre destin\u00e9e.
\nOr il arriva qu\u2019une ann\u00e9e,
\nDans le mois o\u00f9 le blond Ph\u00e9bus
\nS\u2019en va faire visite au br\u00fblant Sirius,
\nLa terre, de sucs \u00e9puis\u00e9e,
\nOuvrant de toutes parts son sein,
\nHaletoit sous un ciel d\u2019airain.
\nPoint de pluie & point de ros\u00e9e.
\nSur un sol crevass\u00e9 l\u2019on voit noircir le grain,
\nLes \u00e9pis sont br\u00fbl\u00e9s, & leurs t\u00eates pench\u00e9es
\nTombent sur leurs tiges s\u00e9ch\u00e9es.
\nOn trembla de mourir de faim ;
\nLa commune s\u2019assemble. En h\u00e2te on d\u00e9lib\u00e8re ;
\nEt chacun, comme \u00e0 l\u2019ordinaire,
\nParle beaucoup & rien ne dit.
\nEnfin quelques vieillards, gens de sens & d\u2019esprit,
\nPropos\u00e8rent un parti sage :
\nMes amis, dirent-ils, d\u2019ici vous pouvez voir
\nCe mont peu distant du village ;
\nL\u00e0 se trouve un grand lac, immense r\u00e9servoir
\nDes souterraines eaux qui s\u2019y font un passage.
\nAllez saigner ce lac ; mais sachez m\u00e9nager
\nUn petit nombre de saign\u00e9es,
\nAfin qu\u2019\u00e0 votre gr\u00e9 vous puissiez diriger
\nCes bienfaisantes eaux dans vos terres baign\u00e9es.
\nJuste quand il faudra nous les arr\u00eaterons.
\nPrenez bien garde au moins\u2026 oui, oui, courons, courons,
\nS\u2019\u00e9crie aussit\u00f4t l\u2019assembl\u00e9e.
\nEt voil\u00e0 mille jeunes gens
\nArm\u00e9s d\u2019hoyaux, de pics, & d\u2019autres instruments,
\nQui volent vers le lac : la terre est travaill\u00e9e
\nTout autour de ses bords ; on perce en cent endroits
\n\u00c0 la fois ;
\nD\u2019un morceau de terrain chaque ouvrier se charge :
\nCourage ! Allons ! Point de repos !
\nL\u2019ouverture jamais ne peut \u00eatre assez large.
\nCela fut bient\u00f4t fait. Avant la nuit, les eaux,
\nTombant de tout leur poids sur leur digue affaiblie,
\nDe partout roulent \u00e0 grands flots.
\nTransports & compliments de la troupe \u00e9bahie,
\nQui s\u2019admire dans ses travaux.
\nLe lendemain matin ce ne fut pas de m\u00eame :
\nOn voit flotter les bleds sur un oc\u00e9an d\u2019eau ;
\nPour sortir du village il faut prendre un bateau ;
\nTout est perdu, noy\u00e9. La douleur est extr\u00eame,
\nOn s\u2019en prend aux vieillards : c\u2019est vous, leur disoit-on,
\nQui nous co\u00fbtez notre moisson ;
\nVotre maudit conseil\u2026 il \u00e9toit salutaire,
\nR\u00e9pondit un d\u2019entre eux ; mais ce qu\u2019on vient de faire
\nEst fort loin du conseil comme de la raison.
\nNous voulions un peu d\u2019eau, vous nous l\u00e2chez la bonde ;
\nL\u2019exc\u00e8s d\u2019un tr\u00e8s grand bien devient un mal tr\u00e8s grand :
\nLe sage arrose doucement,
\nL\u2019insens\u00e9 tout de suite inonde.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[568],"poems-book":[583],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[566],"class_list":["post-12414","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-568","poems-book-fables-de-florian","poete-jean-pierre-claris-de-florian"],"yoast_head":"\n