THE shepherd touched his reed; sweet Philomel Essayed, and oft essayed to catch the strain, And treasuring, as on her ear they fell, The numbers, echoed note for note again. The peevish youth, who ne'er had found before A rival of his skill, indignant heard, And soon (for various was his tuneful store) In loftier tones defied the simple bird. She dared the task, and rising, as he rose, With all the force that passion gives inspired, Returned the sounds awhile, but in the close, Exhausted fell, and at his feet expired. Thus strength, not skill, prevailed. O fatal strife, By thee, poor songstress, playfully begun! And oh, sad victory, which cost thy life, And he may wish that he had never won. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELMER BARR by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN THE FOREST by ELINOR PETERSON ALLEN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 41 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH IMPROMPTU ON MRS. RIDDEL'S BIRTHDAY by ROBERT BURNS MEDITATIONS FOR EVERY DAY IN PASSION WEEK: SATURDAY by JOHN BYROM THE CHOPPER'S CHILD; A STORY FOR THANKSGIVING DAY by ALICE CARY |