Laudator Temporis Acti

Roger L'Estrange, Fables of Aesop and Other Eminent Mythologists, 5th ed. (London: Printed for R. Sare et al., 1708), p. 425 (no. 398—Boys and Frogs)

A Company of Waggish Boys were watching of Frogs at the side of a Pond, and still as any of 'em put up their Heads, they'd be Pelting them down again with Stones. Children (says one of the Frogs) you never Consider, that though this may be Play to you, 'tis Death to us.

Joseph Addison, Spectator No. XXIIII (Tuesday, March 27, 1711), repeats this, citing L'Estrange.

Antoine Houdar de la Motte, One Hundred New Court Fables, tr. Robert Samber (London: Printed for E. Curll, 1721), pp. 231-232:

In Frogland the People lived in Peace, grumbling and croaking as they pleased. While the Frogs were in this happy State, a Company of Boys came down to the Marsh, to disturb their Quiet and Tranquility.

Hark ye, my Lads, says one of them, I have found out a very pretty Play, an innocent War. He that throws his Stone the farthest shall be our King. Done, said they, agreed, and to it they went.

The Stones flew like Hail, every one had a mind to be Conqueror, Children, you see, are like Men, they love Honour. The whole Marsh was covered with Stones in a moment, and the poor Frogs had no Place to retire to. One had his Shoulder put out of joint, another complained he had his Ribs broken, this (to speak in the Language of the Greek Poet) received a Contusion in the Place where the Neck joyns to the Breast, and that died of a great Wound in his Chine.

At last the stoutest of them lifting up his Head, Hark ye, my Masters, says he, for God's sake move a little farther off for your Diversions; chuse a King at a gentler Play than this. This is no Play for us, your Pastimes cost us our Lives; shall we, O Princes, be always Frogs in your Opinion?

In French, from Antoine Houdar de la Motte, Fables nouvelles (Paris: Grégoire Dupuis, 1719), pp. 149-151 (Livre III, Fable V—Les Grenoüilles et les Enfans):

A Vous le dé, Messieurs les Princes;
Vous vous picquez de nobles scntimens.
Vous voulez batailler, conquerir des Provinces:
Ce sont là vos amusemens.
Mais sçavez-vous bîen que nous sommes
Les victimes de ces beaux jeux?
Bon, il n'en coûte que des hommes,
Dites-vous. N'est-ce rien? Vous comptez bien les sommes;
Mais pour les jours des malheureux,
C'est zero: Belle Arithmetique
Qu'introduit vôtre politique!

Des Grenoüilles vivoient en paix,
Barbotant, coassant au gré de leur envie.
Une troupe d'enfans sur les bords du marais
Vint troubler cette douce vie.
Ça, dit l'un d'eux, j'imagine entre nous
Un jeu plaisant, une innocente guerre.
Qui lancera plus loin sa pierre,
Sera nôtre Roi. Tope. Ils y consentent tous.
Pierres voient soudain. Chacun veut la victoire,
L'enfant n'est-il pas homme? Il aime aussi la gloire.
Bien-tôt tout le marais est couvert de cailloux;
Et Grenoüilles pour fuir n'ont pas assez de trous.
L'une a dans le moment l'épaule fracassée;
L'autre se plaint d'une côte enfoncée;
Celle-ci, comme eût dit le Chantre d'Ilion,
Reçoit une contusion
Dans l'endroit où le col se joint à la poitrine;
Celle-là meurt d'un grand coup sur l'échine.
Enfin la plus brave de là
Leve la tête, & dit: Messieurs, holà;
De grace allez plus loin contenter vôtre envie;
Choisissez-vous un maître à quelque jeu plus doux.
Ceci n'est pas un jeu pour nous;
Vos plaisirs nous coûtent la vie.

Rois, serons-nous toûjours des Grenoüilles pour vous?

Cf. Joachim Camerarius, Fabulae Aesopicae (Leiden: Apud Ioan. Tornaesium, 1579), p. 401 (number 417—Ranae et Puer):

Lascivus puer ad stagnum conspicatus ranas exerentes capitula de aquis, per lusum saxis illas appetebat déque illis iugulabat multas. Tum una, Iste quidem puer, inquit, ut videtis, ludit: nostrae autem sorores moriuntur.

Thanks very much to Laura Gibbs for help.