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Expéditeur	Texte	A reçu
***3604	Grant him his life, or take us both away; For he's my gossip, friend, and neighbour.' In vain the beetle's friendly labour; The eagle clut	il y a 1 an
***3604	To make the desert her resort, And other brav'ries of this sort. Poor Jupiter in silence heard The uproar of his fav	il y a 1 an
***3604	vain, that year it was her fate To live a mourning mother, desolate. The next, she built a loftier nest; 'twas vain; The beetle found and das	il y a 1 an
***3604	mountain wood, For six long months, the sleepless echo flew. The bird, once Ganymede, now made Her prayer to Jupiter for aid;	il y a 1 an
***3604	yal robes some dirt, Which Jove just shaking, with a sudden flirt, Threw out the eggs, no one knows whither. When Jupiter inform'd he	il y a 1 an
***3604	etch, would venture there to break them. And no one did. Their enemy, this time, Upsoaring to a place sublime, Let fall upon his ro	il y a 1 an
***3604	e in the wrong. But still, their hatred was so old and strong, These enemies could not be reconciled; And, that the general peace	il y a 1 an
***3604	By help of my translation, The beasts hold conversation, In French, as ne'er they did before. Indeed, to claim a little more,	il y a 1 an
***3604	The plants and trees,[2] with smiling features, Are turn'd by me to talking creatures. Who says, that this is not enchanting? 'Ah,' says th	il y a 1 an
***3604	charming stories. A bard might brighten up their glories, No doubt. I try,--what one more wise must do. Thus much I have accomplish'd hitherto:--	il y a 1 an
***3604	oy, Had held the allied hosts of Greece at bay,-- Their minings, batterings, stormings day by day, Their hundred battles on the crimson plain, Th	il y a 1 an
***3604	For verse, and they, and truth, do well combine; But, not a favourite on the Muses' hill, I dare not arrogate the magic skill, To ornament these	il y a 1 an
***3604	e critics, 'hear what vaunting! From one whose work, all told, no more is Than half-a-dozen baby stories.'[3] Would you a theme more credible	il y a 1 an
***3604	, my censors, In graver tone, and style which now and then soars? Then list! For ten long years the men of Troy, By means that only heroes can empl	il y a 1 an
***3604	eir blood of thousand heroes, all in vain,-- When, by Minerva's art, a horse of wood, Of lofty size before their city stood, Whose flanks immense t	il y a 1 an
***3604	Than my attempt to suit your taste? Some men, more nice than wise, There's nought that satisfies.	il y a 1 an
***3604	he sage Ulysses hold, Brave Diomed, and Ajax fierce and bold, Whom, with their myrmidons, the huge machine Would bear within the fated town unseen,	il y a 1 an
***3604	Alcippus, in the sad belief, None, save her sheep and dog, would know her grief. Thyrsis, who knows, among the willows slips, And hears the gentle	il y a 1 an
***3604	u ill To wield the old heroic quill.' Well, then, a humbler tone, if such your will is:-- Long sigh'd and pined the jealous Amaryllis For her	il y a 1 an
***3604	To wreak upon its very gods their rage-- Unheard-of stratagem, in any age. Which well its crafty authors did repay.... 'Enough, enough,' our c	il y a 1 an

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