  TITHONUS, royal prince of Troy, All mortal maidens’ beauty scorning, Chose for his love, presumptuous boy! Aurora, goddess of the morning. To her he wrote his royal rhymes, For her he saved his royal dimes; So well, indeed, he played his part, He won at last the goddess’ heart. Aurora, wise as gods must be, Was well aware that all men perish, And knowing this she bent the knee, (What won’t we do for those we cherish!) And thus she prayed to Jove on high: “Oh, please don’t let Tithonus die!” And this, the whole of her endeavor— That Tithy, dear, might live forever. Now, Jove, although a deity, Was very fond of mortal ladies, And more than once, he, even he, Had grieved to see them go to Hades. “I quite agree with you,” he said, “Tithonus would be dull if dead. So be content, I, even I, Decree Tithonus shall not die!” Aurora, full of love and joy, Laughed out in Pluto’s face of gloom, And hastened off to tell her boy That she had saved him from the tomb. But, ah, how foolish to forget One other evil to be met! ’Tis sad to say, but must be told, She quite forgot he might grow old. Grow old he did, as most men do, Grew gray and bald and round of tummy; Grew deaf, grew cross and crabbed, too; Grew bent and wrinkled like a mummy. “Oh, Gee! Oh, Fudge! My Sakes! Good Lands! What’s this I’ve got upon my hands?” Aurora cried, nor gave a hang Who heard her use such vulgar slang. “Alas!” she cried, “is it decreed— And it is even right and proper? That I forever more should feed A foolish, mulish old grasshopper?” Tithonus hopped—for, you must know That what a goddess says is so! Tithonus, stricken but resigned, Hopped out of sight and out of mind. The Moral is—that age and youth Have aye been illy yoked together, For love cannot survive, in truth, A prolonged spell of wintry weather. So, when you hear your lady sigh: “Alas! My Love will never die!” Just heed Aurora’s hint, I say, |
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