 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
DORIC MODE.
SEEK, then, no more to sweep the unwilling stringsTo tempest nor to harrow up the skies
With the void passion of Titanic sighs;
Thou shalt not scale the heaven on thunderous wings
Of resonant prayer. The terror of sweet things
Mounts up, sure-winged, to where the whirlwind dies,
Unechoed; and the eternal harmonies
Are stirred more surely, when the poet sings
Bird-softly, bent above the low-voiced lute.
Thunders lie low; the middle air is mute
To their reverberance; but, when there rings
Through heaven the cadence of the Dorian flute,
The great gods hearken from their sojournings
And life flowers forth with immemorial Springs.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |