Une colombe g\u00e9missoit
\nDe ne pouvoir devenir m\u00e8re :<\/p>\n
Elle avoit fait cent fois tout ce qu\u2019il falloit faire
\nPour en venir \u00e0 bout, rien ne r\u00e9ussissoit.
\nUn jour, se promenant dans un bois solitaire,
\nElle rencontre en un vieux nid
\nUn \u0153uf abandonn\u00e9, point trop gros, point petit,
\nSemblable aux \u0153ufs de tourterelle.
\nAh ! quel bonheur ! s\u2019\u00e9cria-t-elle :
\nJe pourrai donc enfin couver.
\nEt puis nourrir, puis \u00e9lever,
\nUn enfant qui fera le charme de ma vie !
\nTous les soins qu\u2019il me co\u00fbtera,
\nLes tourments qu\u2019il me causera,
\nSeront encor des biens pour mon \u00e2me ravie :
\nQuel plaisir vaut ces soucis-l\u00e0 ?
\nCela dit, dans le nid la colombe \u00e9tablie
\nSe met \u00e0 couver l\u2019\u0153uf, & le couve si bien,
\nQu\u2019elle ne le quitte pour rien,
\nPas m\u00eame pour manger ; l\u2019amour nourrit les m\u00e8res.
\nApr\u00e8s vingt & un jours elle voit na\u00eetre enfin
\nCelui dont elle attend son bonheur, son destin,
\nEt ses d\u00e9lices les plus ch\u00e8res.
\nDe joie elle est pr\u00eate \u00e0 mourir ;
\nAupr\u00e8s de son petit nuit & jour elle veille,
\nL\u2019\u00e9coute respirer, le regarde dormir,
\nS\u2019\u00e9puise pour le mieux nourrir.
\nL\u2019enfant ch\u00e9ri vient \u00e0 merveille.
\nSon corps grossit en peu de temps :<\/p>\n
Mais son bec, ses yeux & ses ailes,
\nDiff\u00e8rent fort des tourterelles ;
\nLa m\u00e8re les voit ressemblants.
\n\u00c0 bien \u00e9lever sa jeunesse
\nElle met tous ses soins, lui pr\u00eache la sagesse,
\nEt surtout l\u2019amiti\u00e9, lui dit \u00e0 chaque instant :
\nPour \u00eatre heureux, mon cher enfant,
\nIl ne faut que deux points, la paix avec soi-m\u00eame,
\nPuis quelques bons amis dignes de nous ch\u00e9rir.
\nLa vertu de la paix nous fait seule jouir ;
\nEt le secret pour qu\u2019on nous aime,
\nC\u2019est d\u2019aimer les premiers, facile & doux plaisir.
\nAinsi parloit la tourterelle,
\nQuand, au milieu de sa le\u00e7on,
\nUn malheureux petit pinson,
\n\u00c9chapp\u00e9 de son nid, vient s\u2019abattre aupr\u00e8s d\u2019elle.
\nLe jeune nourrisson \u00e0 peine l\u2019aper\u00e7oit
\nQu\u2019il court \u00e0 lui : sa m\u00e8re croit
\nQue c\u2019est pour le traiter comme ami, comme fr\u00e8re,
\nEt pour offrir au voyageur
\nUne retraite hospitali\u00e8re.
\nElle applaudit d\u00e9j\u00e0 : mais quelle est sa douleur,
\nLorsqu\u2019elle voit son fils, ce fils dont la jeunesse
\nN\u2019entendit que le\u00e7ons de vertu, de sagesse,
\nSaisir le foible oiseau, le plumer, le manger,
\nEt garder, au milieu de l\u2019horrible carnage,
\nCe tranquille sang-froid, assur\u00e9 t\u00e9moignage<\/p>\n
Que le c\u0153ur d\u00e9sormais ne peut se corriger !
\nElle en mourut, la pauvre m\u00e8re.
\nQuel triste prix des soins donn\u00e9s \u00e0 cet enfant !
\nMais c\u2019\u00e9toit le fils d\u2019un milan :
\nRien ne change le caract\u00e8re.<\/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-12458","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-568","poems-book-fables-de-florian","poete-jean-pierre-claris-de-florian"],"yoast_head":"\n