Philomel And Progne
Fable de Jean de la Fontaine
 Fables of la Fontaine > Book III > Philomel And Progne |
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| From home and city spires, one day, The swallow Progne flew away, And sought the bosky dell Where sang poor Philomel. "My sister," Progne said, "how do you do? It's now a thousand years since you Have been concealed 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 engrossed? 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 suffered then." |
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