Tuesday, November 10, 2015

The Young Cocks


Listen to:

The Young Cocks (:46)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


Two Tanagraean cocks a fight began;
Their spirit is, 'tis said, as that of man:
Of these the beaten bird, a mass of blows,
For shame into a corner creeping goes;
The other to the housetop quickly flew,
And there in triumph flapped his wings and crew.
But him an eagle lifted from the roof,
And bore away. His fellow gained a proof
That oft the wages of defeat are best,--
None else remained the hens to interest.
WHEREFORE, O man, beware of boastfulness:
Should fortune lift thee, others to depress,
Many are saved by lack of her caress.

Monday, November 9, 2015

The Carter and Hercules


Listen to:

The Carter and Hercules (:31)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


A carter from the village drove his wain:
And when it fell into a rugged lane,
Inactive stood, nor lent a helping hand;
But to that god, whom of the heavenly band
He really honored most, Alcides, prayed:
"Push at your wheels," the god appearing said,
"And goad your team; but when you pray again,
Help yourself likewise, or you'll pray in vain."

Sunday, November 8, 2015

The Fox and the Grapes


Listen to:

The Fox and the Grapes (:30)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


There hung some bunches of the purple grape
On a hillside. A cunning fox, agape
For these full clusters, many times essayed
To cull their dark bloom, many vain leaps made.
They were quite ripe, and for the vintage fit;
But when his leaps did not avail a whit,
He journeyed on, and thus his grief composed:--
"The bunch was sour, not ripe, as I supposed."

Saturday, November 7, 2015

The Mouse That Fell into the Pot


Listen to:

The Mouse That Fell into the Pot (:27)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


A mouse into a lidless broth-pot fell;
Choked with the grease, and bidding life farewell,
He said, "My fill of meat and drink have I
And all good things: 'Tis time that I should die."
Thou art that dainty mouse among mankind,
If hurtful sweets are not by thee declined.

Friday, November 6, 2015

Jupiter and the Monkey


Listen to:

Jupiter and the Monkey  (:42)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


A baby-show with prizes Jove decreed
For all the beasts, and gave the choice due heed.
A monkey-mother came among the rest;
A naked, snub-nosed pug upon her breast
She bore, in mother's fashion. At the sight
Assembled gods were moved to laugh outright.
Said she, "Jove knoweth where his prize will fall!
I know my child's the beauty of them all."
This fable will a general law attest,
That each one deems that what's his own, is best.

Thursday, November 5, 2015

The North Wind and the Sun


Listen to:

The North Wind and the Sun (1:06)

by Babrius

turned into English metre by James Davies, M.A. (1860)

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


Betwixt the North wind and the Sun arose
A contest, which would soonest of his clothes
Strip a wayfaring clown, so runs the tale.
First, Boreas blows an almost Thracian gale,
Thinking, perforce, to steal the man's capote:
He loosed it not; but as the cold wind smote
More sharply, tighter round him drew the folds,
And sheltered by a crag his station holds.
But now the Sun at first peered gently forth,
And thawed the chills of the uncanny North;
Then in their turn his beams more amply plied,
Till sudden heat the clown's endurance tried;
Stripping himself, away his cloak he flung:
The Sun from Boreas thus a triumph wrung.
The fable means, "My son, at mildness aim:
Persuasion more results than force may claim."

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

To the Evening Star


Listen to:

To the Evening Star (1:08)

by William Blake

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares thro' the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with

Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Let Your Soul Stand Cool


Listen to:

Let Your Soul Stand Cool (1:06)

by Walt Whitman

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode

from Song of Myself by Walt Whitman
   
I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is,
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own
    funeral drest in his shroud,
And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth,
And to glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the
    learning of all times,
And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it
    may become a hero,
And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel'd universe,
And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and composed

    before a million universes.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Death Be Not Proud


Listen to:

Death Be Not Proud (1:17)

by John Donne

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Sonnet 23: Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint


Listen to:

Sonnet 23: Methought I Saw My Late Espoused Saint (1:02)

by John Milton

performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode


Methought I saw my late espoused saint
       Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
       Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
       Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
       Purification in the old Law did save,
       And such as yet once more I trust to have
       Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind;
       Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight
       Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd
So clear as in no face with more delight.
       But Oh! as to embrace me she inclin'd,
       I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.