Classic and Contemporary Poetry
LYCIUS, by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE Poem Explanation Poet's Biography First Line: Lycius! The female race is all the same Last Line: Removed from cares and from the female kind! Subject(s): Lycius (mythology); Women | ||||||||
LYCIUS! the female race is all the same! All variable, as the Poets tell us; Mad through caprice -- half way 'twixt men and children. Acasta, mildest late of all our maids, Colder and calmer than a sacred well, Is now more changed than Spring has changed these thickets: Here is the fault, not mine. Yourself shall judge. From Epidaurus, where for three long days With Nicias I had stayed, honoring the God, Last evening we returned. The way was dull, And vexed with mountains: tired ere long was I From warding off the oleander boughs Which, as my comrade o'er the stream's dry bed Pushed on, closed backward on my mule and me The flies maintained a melody unblest; While Nicias, of his wreath Nemean proud, Sang of the Satyrs and the Nymphs all day Like one by Esculapius fever-smitten. Arrived at eve we bathed; and drank, and ate Of figs and olives till our souls exulted. Lastly, we slept like gods. When morning shone, So filled was I with weariness and sleep That as a log till noon I lay; then rose, And in the bath-room sat. While there I languished Reading that old, divine and holy tale Of sad Ismene and Antigone, Two warm soft hands flung suddenly around me Closed both my eyes; and a clear, shrill, sweet laughter Told me that she it was, Acasta's self, That brake upon my dreams. "What would you, child?" "Child, child!" Acasta cried, "I am no child -- You do me wrong in calling me a child! Come with me to the willowy river's brim: There read, if you must read." Her eyes not lest Than hands uplifted me, and forth we strayed. O'er all the Argolic plain Apollo's shafts So fiercely fell, methought the least had slain A second Python. From that theatre Scooped in the rock the Argive tumult rolled! Before the fane of Juno seven vast oxen Lowed loud, denouncing Heaven ere yet they fell: While from the hill-girt meadows rose a scent So rich, the salt sea odors vainly strove To pierce those fumes it curled about my brain, And sting the nimbler spirits. Nodding I watched The pale herbs from the parched bank that trailed Bathing delighted in voluptuous cold, And scarcely swayed by the slow winding stream. I heard a sigh -- I asked not whence it came. At last a breeze went by, to glossy waves Rippling that steely flood; I noted then The reflex of the poplar stem thereon Curled into spiral wreaths, and toward me darting Like a long, shining water-snake: I laughed To see its restlessness. Acasta cried, "Read -- if you will not talk or look at me!" Unconsciously I glanced upon the page, Bent o'er it, and began to chant that chorus, "Favored by Love are they that love not deeply," When leaping from my side she snatched the book, Into the river dashed it, bounded by, And, no word spoken, left me there alone. Lycius! I see you smile; but know you not Nothing is trifling which the Muse records, And lovers love to muse on? Let the gods Act as to them seems fitting. Hermes loved -- Phoebus loved also -- but the hearts of gods Are everlasting like the suns and stars, Their loves as transient as the clouds. For me A peaceful life is all I seek, and far Removed from cares and from the female kind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ARISTOTLE TO PHYLLIS by JOHN HOLLANDER A WOMAN'S DELUSION by SUSAN HOWE JULIA TUTWILER STATE PRISON FOR WOMEN by ANDREW HUDGINS THE WOMEN ON CYTHAERON by ROBINSON JEFFERS TOMORROW by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD LADIES FOR DINNER, SAIPAN by KENNETH KOCH GOODBYE TO TOLERANCE by DENISE LEVERTOV A BALLAD OF ATHLONE; OR, HOW THEY BROKE DOWN THE BRIDGE by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE A BALLAD OF SARSFIELD; OR, THE BURSTING OF THE GUNS by AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE |
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