THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. 117 
rity, deprived her of every sense, save only the de- 
sire of revenging her vs^rongs. The dumb eloquence 
of the poor injured Philomela was more touching 
and powerful with her than the strongest passion of 
the heart — maternal love, — and the sight of her little 
Itys, who had hitherto been so dear to her, now stung 
her to madness. To revenge herself on the father, 
she put to death the child, and, to add to the horrid 
tale, she is said to have served up his flesh to Tereus, 
at a banquet. 
Ovid informs us that the gods, as a punishment on 
the guilty Tereus, transformed him into a lapwing, 
Procne into a swallow, Philomela into a Nightingale, 
and Itys into a pheasant. 
Poor melancholy bird, that, all night long, 
Teirst to the moon thy tale of tender wo. 
From what sad cause can such sweet sorrow flow, 
And whence this mournful melody of song 
Thy poet's musing fancy would translate 
What mean the sounds that swell thy little breast, 
When still at dewy eve thou leav'st thy nest. 
Thus to the list'ning night to sing thy fate. 
