 | Poems by Two Brothers |  |
143
APOLLONIUS RHODIUS'S COMPLAINT
With cutting taunt they bade me lay
My high-strung harp aside,
As if I dare not soar away
On Fancy's plume of pride!
My high-strung harp aside,
As if I dare not soar away
On Fancy's plume of pride!
Oh! while there's image in my brain
And vigour in my hand,
The first shall frame the soul-fraught strain,
The last these chords command!
And vigour in my hand,
The first shall frame the soul-fraught strain,
The last these chords command!
'Tis true, I own, the starting tear
Has swell'd into mine eye,
When she, whose hand the plant should rear,
Could bid it fade and die:
Has swell'd into mine eye,
When she, whose hand the plant should rear,
Could bid it fade and die:
144
But, deaf to cavil, spite, and scorn,
I still must wake the lyre;
And still, on Fancy's pinions borne,
To Helicon aspire.
I still must wake the lyre;
And still, on Fancy's pinions borne,
To Helicon aspire.
And all the ardent lays I pour,
Another realm shall claim;
My name shall live—a foreign shore
Shall consecrate my name.
Another realm shall claim;
My name shall live—a foreign shore
Shall consecrate my name.
My country's
scorn I will not brook,
But she shall rue it long;
And Rhodes shall bless the hour she took
The exil'd child of song.
But she shall rue it long;
And Rhodes shall bless the hour she took
The exil'd child of song.
C. T.
| Poems by Two Brothers | |