THE EAGLE AND THE BEETLE

The Eagle and the Beetle

A beetle loved a certain hare

And wandered with him everywhere;

They went to fairs and feasts together, 

Took walks in any kind of weather, 

Talked of the future and the past 

On sunny days or overcast, 

But, since their friendship was so pleasant, 

Lived for the most part in the present. 

One day, alas, an eagle flew

Above them, and before they knew

What cloud had shadowed them, the hare

Hung from her talons in mid-air. 

'Please spare my friend,' the beetle cried. 

But the great eagle was sneered with pride:

'You puny, servile, cloddish bug -

Go off and hide your ugly mug. 

How do you dare assume the right

To meddle with my appetite? 

This hare's my snack. Have you not heard

I am the great god Zeus's bird? 

Nothing can harm me, least of all

A slow, pathetic, droning ball. 

Here, keep your friend's head' And she tore

The hare's head off, and swiftly bore

His bleeding torso to her nest, 

Ripped off his tail, and ate the rest. 

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The beetle stared at her friend's head, 

And wished that she herself was dead. 

She mixed her tears with his dark blood

And cloaked his face with clods of mud. 

She swore that till her dying breath

She would avenge his cruel death, 

That she would make the eagle pay

For what she had performed today. 

Next day she slowly tracked the trail

From drop of blood to tuft of tail, 

Till, high up on a mountain crest, 

She found the huge unguarded nest, 

And at the hour that yesterday

The bird had plunged towards her prey, 

The beetle with her six short legs

Rolled out the mighty eagle's eggs. 

She left at once, but she could hear

The eagle's screams of pain and fear

When later she returned and found

The broken eggshells on the ground. 

Next day the eagle moved her nest

Ten miles or more towards the west, 

But still the beetle's scrutiny

Followed her flight from rock to tree. 

When finally the eagle laid

Another clutch, the beetle made

Straight for the nest in which they lay, 

And, when the bird was hunting prey, 

With much fatigue but little sound

Rolled the great eggs onto the ground. 

When this had gone on for a year

The eagle, crazed with rage and fear, 

Would turn back, screeching, in mid-air

Whenever she would sight a hare. 

The far drone of the beetle's flight

Shattered her calm by day or night. 

For weeks on end she scarcely slept. 

She laid her eggs in grief, and wept

When what she'd feared had come to pass-

And her smashed brood lay on the grass. 

At last she cried, 'What is the use

Of bearing your protection, Zeus-

When what small, evil clot of mud

Has massacred my flesh and blood? 

King of the gods, where may I rest? 

Where may I safely build my nest? 

Where lay my eggs without mishap?'

'Here' said the god. 'Here, in my lap.'

And so the eggs lay, more secure

Than they had ever lain before. 

What in the universe could be

More safe than Zeus's custody? 

So thought the eagle, till one day

The beetle saw them where they lay

And, aiming with precision, flung

A microscopic ball of dung

Into the lap of mighty Zeus

Who, rising, spewed divine abuse, 

And, shaking dirt from off his legs, 

Unthinkingly tipped out the eggs. 

Past hope, the eagle pined away

And died of grief - and to this day

They say that eagles will not nest

In months when beetles fly their best;

But others, not so superstitious, 

Merely assert that Fate's capricious, 

And that the strong who crush the weak

May not be shown the other cheek. 

- Vikram Seth

For solved exercises of this poem, click on the link below:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJTgYmbQGweWg7n1IMh3PCA/join