 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
54
ÆSCHYLUS.
Thou rock-bound and undying sacrifice,—Ye fierce conspiring chieftains,—haggard queen,—
Thou parricide, convulsed with agonies,—
Ye furies, through the fearful darkness seen
Glaring with horrid eye and spectral mien,—
Appear, appear—for him, whose magic spell
From the dim void of intellectual night
Gave you dread being, terribly to tell
The shuddering world a master-spirit's might:
Yet thus alone not worthily nor well
Nor equal to a patriot-poet's praise
In black procession stalks gigantic crime;
To thee, great bard, their holier worship raise
Deep thoughts, high hopes, and symphonies sublime.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |