Philomel And Progne.

^[1]

From home and city spires, one day,
The swallow Progne flew away,
And sought the bosky dell
Where sang poor Philomel.^[2]
'My sister,' Progne said, 'how do you do?
'Tis now a thousand years since you
Have been conceal'd from human view;
I'm sure I have not seen your face
Once since the times of Thrace.
Pray, will you never quit this dull retreat?'
'Where could I find,' said Philomel, 'so sweet?'
'What! sweet?' cried Progne - 'sweet to waste
Such tones on beasts devoid of taste,
Or on some rustic, at the most!
Should you by deserts be engross'd?
Come, be the city's pride and boast.
Besides, the woods remind of harms
That Tereus in them did your charms.'
'Alas!' replied the bird of song,
'The thought of that so cruel wrong
Makes me, from age to age,
Prefer this hermitage;
For nothing like the sight of men
Can call up what I suffer'd then.'

Jean de La Fontaine

Jean de La Fontaine was a renowned French fabulist and poet. Born on July 8, 1621, he is best known for his 'Fables,' which have been admired for their witty and insightful depiction of human nature and society. La Fontaine's fables are considered classics of French literature and have had a long-lasting impact on both the literary world and popular culture. He passed away on April 13, 1695.

Jean de La Fontaine

The Cockerel, The Cat, And The Young Mouse.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

Friar Philip's Geese

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

The Dove And The Ant.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

Jupiter And The Farmer.

Jean de La Fontaine, Simple Poetry

English

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Charon And Philomel; A Dialogue Sung.

Ph. Charon! O gentle Charon! let me woo thee
    By tears and pity now to come unto me.
Ch. What voice so sweet and charming do I hear?
    Say what thou art. Ph. I prithee first draw near.
Ch. A sound I hear, but nothing yet can see;
    Speak, where thou art. Ph. O Charon pity me!
    I am a bird, and though no name I tell,
    My warbling note will say I'm Philomel.
Ch. What's that to me? I waft nor fish or fowls,
    Nor beasts, fond thing, but only human souls.
Ph. Alas for me! Ch. Shame on thy witching note
    That made me thus hoist sail and bring my boat:
    But I'll return; what mischief brought thee hither?
Ph. A deal of love and much, much grief together.
Ch. What's thy request? Ph.

Robert Herrick

Philomel.
Lo, as a minstrel at the court of Love,
The nightingale, who knows his mate is nigh,
Thrills into rapture; and the stars above
Look down, affrighted, as they would reply.
There is contagion, and I know not why,
In all this clamour, all this fierce delight,
As if the sunset, when the day did swoon,
Had drawn some wild confession from the moon.
Have wrongs been done? Have crimes enacted been
To shame the weird retirement of the night?
O clamourous bird! O sad; sweet nightingale!
Withhold thy voice, and blame not Beauty's queen.
She may be pure, though dumb: and she is pale,
And wears a radiance on her brow serene.
Eric Mackay

The Little Bell
HOW weak is man! how changeable his mind!
His promises are naught, too oft we find;
I vowed (I hope in tolerable verse,)
Again no idle story to rehearse.
And whence this promise? - Not two days ago;
I'm quite confounded; better I should know:
A rhymer hear then, who himself can boast,
Quite steady for - a minute at the most.
The pow'rs above could PRUDENCE ne'er design;
For those who fondly court the SISTERS NINE.
Some means to please they've got, you will confess;
But none with certainty the charm possess.
If, howsoever, I were doomed to find
Such lines as fully would content the mind:
Though I should fail in matter, still in art;
I might contrive some pleasure to impart.

LET'S see what we are able to obtain: -
A bachelor resided in Touraine.
...
Jean de La Fontaine

Thyrsis And Amaranth.
For Mademoiselle De Sillery.^[1]

I had the Phrygian quit,
Charm'd with Italian wit;^[2]
But a divinity
Would on Parnassus see
A fable more from me.
Such challenge to refuse,
Without a good excuse,
Is not the way to use
Divinity or muse.
Especially to one
Of those who truly are,
By force of being fair,
Made queens of human will.
A thing should not be done
In all respects so ill.
For, be it known to all,
From Sillery the call
Has come for bird, and beast,
And insects, to the least;
To clothe their thoughts sublime
In this my simple rhyme.
In saying Sillery,
All's said that need to be.
Her claim to it so good,
Few fail to give her place
Above the human race:
How could they, if they w...
Jean de La Fontaine

Nonpareil
Let others from the Town retire,
And in the fields seek new delight;
My Phillis does such joys inspire,
No other objects please my sight.

In her alone I find whate'er
Beauties a country landscape grace;
No shade so lovely as her hair,
Nor plain so sweet as is her face.

Lilies and roses there combine,
More beauteous than in flowery field;
Transparent is her skin so fine,
To this each crystal stream must yield.

Her voice more sweet than warbling sound,
Though sung by nightingale or lark;
Her eyes such lustre dart around,
Compared to them the sun is dark.

Both light and vital heat they give,
Cherish'd by them my love takes root;
From her kind looks does life receive,
Grows a fair plant, bears flowers and fruit.

Su...
Matthew Prior

The Two Doves.
Two doves once cherish'd for each other
The love that brother hath for brother.
But one, of scenes domestic tiring,
To see the foreign world aspiring,
Was fool enough to undertake
A journey long, o'er land and lake.
'What plan is this?' the other cried;
'Wouldst quit so soon thy brother's side?
This absence is the worst of ills;
Thy heart may bear, but me it kills.
Pray, let the dangers, toil, and care,
Of which all travellers tell,
Your courage somewhat quell.
Still, if the season later were -
O wait the zephyrs! - hasten not -
Just now the raven, on his oak,
In hoarser tones than usual spoke.
My heart forebodes the saddest lot, -
The falcons, nets - Alas, it rains!
My brother, are thy wants supplied -
Provisions, shelter, pocket-guide,
Jean de La Fontaine