For Me to Poupon

leonardian:

STORY TIME!

I’ rovistrice sendo stimolato nelli sua sottili rami, ripieni di novelli frutti, dai pungenti artigli e becco delle importune merle, si doleva con pietoso rammarichio inverso essa merla, pregando quella che, poi che lei li toglieva e sua diletti frutti, il meno non la privassi de le foglie, le quali lo difendevano dai cocenti razzi del sole, e che coll’acute unghie non iscorticass’e desvestissi della sua tenera pelle. A la quale la merla con villane rampogne rispose, “O taci, salvatico sterpo! Non sai che laa natura t’ha fatti produrre questi frutti per mio notrimento? Non vedi che se’ al mondo per servirmi di tale cibo? Non sai villano, che tu sarai in nella prossima invernata notrimento e cibo del foco?” Le quali parole ascoltate dall’albero pazientemente non sanza lacrime, infra poco tempo - il merlo preso dalla ragne e colti de’ rami per fare gabbia per inca[r]cerare esso merlo - toccò, infra l’altri rami, al sottile rovistrico a fare le vimini dellla gabbia, le quali vedendo esser cau[s]a della persa libertà del merlo, rallegratosi, mosse tale parole, “O merlo, i’ son qui non ancora consumato, come dicevi, dal foco. Prima vederò te prigione, che tu me brusiato.”

The privet, feeling its tender boughs, loaded with young fruit, pricked by the sharp claws and beak of the insolent blackbird complained to the blackbird with piteous remonstrance, entreating it that since it stole the delicious fruits it should at least spare the leaves which served to protect them from the burning rays of the sun, and desist from scratching its tender bark with its sharp claws. To this the blackbird replied with angry upbraiding, “Oh shut up, uncultured shrub! Do you not know that nature made you produce these fruits for my nourishment? Do you not see that you are in this world to serve me with food? Do you not know, base creature, that next winter you will be food and prey for the fire?” To these words the tree listened patiently, and not without tears. Shortly afterwards the blackbird was caught in a net and boughs were cut to make a cage to imprison it. Branches were cut from the pliant privet among others to serve for the plaited twigs of the cage, and seeing that it was the cause of the blackbird’s loss of liberty the privet, rejoicing, said, “Oh blackbird, I am here and not yet consumed, like you said, by the fire. I shall see you in prison before you see me burnt.”

[ NOTE: Like the Stone story, this seems to have a hint of Leonardo’s personal experiences in it… ]

Nice to see even the old Masters were not above a bit of cathartic revenge fiction every once and again.