Ye Venuses and Cupids mourn,
Ye whom the graces most adorn,
Come, and your tears of sorrow shed:
My Lesbia’s little bird is dead.[Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque
et quantum est hominum venustiorum!
passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae.]Catullus (c. 84 BC – c. 54 BC) Latin poet [Gaius Valerius Catullus]
Carmina # 3 “Death of the Sparrow,” ll. 1-4 [tr. Bliss (1872)]
(Source)
(Source (Latin)). Alternate translations:Mourn all ye Loves! ye Graces mourn!
My Lesbia's fav'rite sparrow's gone!
Ye men for wit, for taste, preferr'd,
Lament my girl's departed bird!
[tr. Nott (1795)]Mourn, all ye loves and graces; mourn,
Ye wits, ye gallant, and ye gay;
Death from my fair her bird has torn,
Her much-loved Sparrow's snatch'd away.
[tr. Lamb (1821)]Loves and Graces, mourn with me,
Mourn, fair youths, where'er ye be!
Dead my Lesbia's sparrow is,
Sparrow, that was all her bliss.
[tr. T. Martin (1861)]Ye Graces! mourn, oh mourn!
Mourn, Cupids Venus-born!
And loveliest sons of earth, where'er ye are !
Dead is now my darling's sparrow --
Sparrow of my "winsome marrow,"
Than her very eyes, oh! dearer to her far.
[tr. Cranstoun (1867)]Weep each heavenly Venus, all the Cupids,
Weep all men that have any grace about ye.
Dead the sparrow, in whom my love delighted,
The dear sparrow, in whom my love delighted.
[tr. Ellis (1871)]Weep every Venus, and all Cupids wail,
And men whose gentler spirits still prevail.
Dead is the Sparrow of my girl, the joy,
Sparrow, my sweeting's most delicious toy.
[tr. Burton (1893)]O mourn, you Loves and Cupids, and all men of gracious mind. Dead is the sparrow of my girl, sparrow, darling of my girl.
[tr. Smithers (1894)]Mourn, all ye Loves, ye Loves and Cupids, mourn,
Make moan for heaviness, ye gallants bright,
For Lesbia's bird, my Lesbia weeps forlorn;
He's dead -- poor, pretty bird -- my love's delight!
[tr. Harman (1897)]Mourn, ye Graces and Loves, and all you whom the Graces love. My lady's sparrow is dead, the sparrow my lady's pet.
[tr. Warre Cornish (1904)]Mourn, all ye Graces, mourn, ye Sons of Love, and all whose hearts engender pity. The sparrow of my beloved is no more; that sparrow, the delight of my beloved.
[tr. Stuttaford (1912)]Weep, weep, ye Loves and Cupids all,
And ilka Man o’ decent feelin’:
My lassie’s lost her wee, wee bird,
And that’s a loss, ye’ll ken, past healin’.
[tr. Davies (1912)]Let Venus bow her head in grief,
And tears drown Cupid's eyes in sorrow,
And men of feeling everywhere
Forget to smile -- until tomorrow.
My lady's little bird lies dead,
The bird that was my lady's prize.
[tr. Stewart (1915)]Weep, ye gods of love and pleasure,
Weep, all all ye of finer clay,
Weep, my darling's lost her treasure,
Mourn her sparrow passed away!
[tr. Symons-Jeune (1923)]Mourn Loves and Graces all, and you
Of men the lovelier chosen few.
The sparrow of my love is dead,
The playmate of my love is sped.
[tr. MacNaghten (1925)]Dress now in sorrow, O all
you shades of Venus,
and your little cupids weep.
My girl has lost her darling sparrow.
[tr. Gregory (1931)]Lament, o graces of Venus, and Cupids,
and cry out loud, men beloved by Her graces.
Pass here, it's dead, meant so much to my girl, the
sparrow, the jewel that delighted my girl.
[tr. Zukofsky (1959)]Mourn, oh Cupids and Venuses,
and whatever there is of rather pleasing men:
the sparrow of my girlfriend has died,
the sparrow, delight of my girl.
[tr. Sullvan (1997)]Mourn, O you Loves and Cupids
and such of you as love beauty:
my girl’s sparrow is dead,
sparrow, the girl’s delight.
[tr. Kline (2001)]Mourn, Cupids all, every Venus,
and whatever company still exists of caring people:
Sparrow lies dead, my own true sweegheart's sparrow.
[tr. Green (2005)]Mourn, Oh Venuses and Cupids
And all men of finer feeling
The sparrow of my girl has died,
the sparrow, my lady's pet.
[tr. Wikibooks (2017)]Mourn, O Venuses and Cupids
and however many there are of more charming people:
my girl's sparrow is dead --
the sparrow, delight of my girl.
[tr. Wikisource (2018)]
Quotations about:
bird
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
Morning has broken,
Like the first morning,
Blackbird has spoken
Like the first bird.
Praise for the singing!
Praise for the morning!
Praise for them springing
Fresh from the Word!Eleanor Farjeon (1881-1965) English author
“Morning Has Broken” (1931)
(Source)
Set to music and popularized by Cat Stevens in Teaser and the Firecat (1971).
The mocking bird is music-mad to-night,
He thinks the stars are notes;
That he must sing each spattered star, and be
A choir of many throats.The earth is his cathedral, and its dome
Is all the light-pricked sky;
The pear-tree is his choir loft, and there
He flings his mad songs high.
“What, did St. Francis preach to the birds?” asked Kate. “Whatever for? If he really liked birds he would have done better to preach to cats.”
Rebecca West (1892-1983) British author, journalist, literary critic, travel writer [pseud. for Cicily Isabel Fairfield]
This Real Night (1984)
(Source)
I walked in the woods and looked at the birds, and I thought: How dreadful that people shut up birds in cages. If only I could so live and so serve the world that after me there should never again be birds in cages, they should all be free —
Isak Dinesen (1885-1962) Danish writer [pseud. of Karen Christence, Countess Blixen]
“The Deluge at Norderney,” Seven Gothic Tales [Miss Malin] (1934)
(Source)
Birds! Birds! Ye are beautiful things,
With your earth-treading feet and your cloud-cleaving wings!Eliza Cook (1818-1889) English author and poet
“Birds,” The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook (1848)
(Source)
Over increasingly large areas of the United States, spring now comes unheralded by the return of the birds, and the early mornings are strangely silent where once they were filled with the beauty of bird song.
Rachel Carson (1907-1964) American marine biologist, author, conservationist
Silent Spring, ch. 8 “And No Birds Sing” (1962)
(Source)
This passage served as inspiration for the book title.
Be like the bird, who
Halting in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath him,
Yet sings
Knowing he hath wings.[Soyez comme l’oiseau, posé pour un instant
Sur des rameaux trop frêles,
Qui sent ployer la branche et qui chante pourtant,
Sachant qu’il a des ailes!]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
“In the Church of *** [Dans l’eglise de ***],” Songs of Dusk [Les chants du crepuscule], #33 sec. 6 (1836)
(Source)
Full French poem. Alternate translations:Be like the bird that, on a bough too frail
To bear him, gaily sings!
He carols -- thought he slender branches fail:
He knows that he has wings.
[Source]Be like the bird that seeks its short repose
And dauntless sings
Upon that bending twig, because it knows
That it has wings.
[Source]Be like that bird, that halting in her flight
A while on boughs too slight;
Feels them give way beneath her,
And yet sings, yet sings,
Knowing that she hath wings.
[Laura Sedgwick Collins, 1890s song, "Be Like That Bird"]Thou art like the bird
That alights and sings
Though the frail spray bends --
For he knows he has wings.
[tr. Kemble (Butler)]Be as a bird that --
Pausing in its flight --
Alights upon a branch too slight
And feeling that it bends beneath it
Sings -- knowing it has wings.
[Source]
Birds should be saved because of utilitarian reasons; and, moreover, they should be saved because of reasons unconnected with any return in dollars and cents. A grove of giant redwoods or sequoias should be kept just as we keep a great and beautiful cathedral. The extermination of the passenger pigeon meant that mankind was just so much poorer; exactly as in the case of the destruction of the cathedral at Rheims. And to lose the chance to see frigate-birds soaring in circles above the storm, or a file of pelicans winging their way homeward across the crimson afterglow of the sunset, or a myriad terns flashing in the bright light of midday as they hover in a shifting maze above the beach — why, the loss is like the loss of a gallery of the masterpieces of the artists of old time.
Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919) American politician, statesman, conservationist, writer, US President (1901-1909)
A Book-Lover’s Holidays in the Open, ch. 10 “Bird Reserves at the Mouth of the Mississippi” (1916)
(Source)
The grackle’s voice is less than mellow,
His heart is black, his eye is yellow,
He bullies more attractive birds
With hoodlum deeds and vulgar words,
And should a human interfere,
Attacks that human in the rear.
I cannot help but deem the grackle
An ornithological debacle.