 | Songs of the sea, with other poems |  |
109
THE FUGITIVE FROM LOVE.
Is there but a single theme
For the youthful poet's dream?
Is there but a single wire
To the youthful poet's lyre?
Earth below and heaven above—
Can he sing of nought but love?
For the youthful poet's dream?
Is there but a single wire
To the youthful poet's lyre?
Earth below and heaven above—
Can he sing of nought but love?
Nay! the battle's dust I see—
God of war, I follow thee;
And, in martial numbers, raise
Worthy pæans to thy praise!
Ah! she meets me on the field—
If I fly not, I must yield.
God of war, I follow thee;
And, in martial numbers, raise
Worthy pæans to thy praise!
Ah! she meets me on the field—
If I fly not, I must yield.
110
Jolly patron of the grape,
To thy arms I will escape:
Quick, the rosy nectar bring—
“Io Bacche!” I will sing!
Ha! confusion! every sip
But reminds me of her lip.
To thy arms I will escape:
Quick, the rosy nectar bring—
“Io Bacche!” I will sing!
Ha! confusion! every sip
But reminds me of her lip.
Pallas, give me wisdom's page,
And awake my epic rage!
Love is fleeting, love is vain;—
I will try a nobler strain!
O, perplexity! my books
But reflect her haunting looks.
And awake my epic rage!
Love is fleeting, love is vain;—
I will try a nobler strain!
O, perplexity! my books
But reflect her haunting looks.
Jupiter, on thee I cry—
Take me and my lyre on high!
Lo! the stars beneath me gleam—
Here, O poet, is a theme!
Madness! she is come above!
Every chord is whispering, “Love!”
Take me and my lyre on high!
Lo! the stars beneath me gleam—
Here, O poet, is a theme!
Madness! she is come above!
Every chord is whispering, “Love!”
| Songs of the sea, with other poems | |