Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SACRIFICE TO APOLLO, by MICHAEL DRAYTON


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SACRIFICE TO APOLLO, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Priests of apollo, sacred be the roome
Last Line: Sound, whilst his altars endlesse flames expire.
Subject(s): Apollo; Mythology - Classical; Sacrifices


Priests of APOLLO, sacred be the Roome,
For this learn'd Meeting: Let no barbarous Groome,
How brave soe'r he bee,
Attempt to enter;
But of the Muses free,
None here may venter;
This for the Delphian Prophets is prepar'd:
The prophane Vulgar are from hence debar'd.

And since the Feast so happily begins,
Call up those faire Nine, with their Violins;
They are begot by JOVE,
Then let us place them,
Where no Clowne in may shove,
That may disgrace them:
But let them neere to young APOLLO sit;
So shall his Foot-pace over-flow with Wit.

Where be the Graces, where be those fayre Three?
In any hand They may not absent bee:
They to the Gods are deare,
And they can humbly
Teach us, our Selves to beare,
And doe things comely:
They, and the Muses, rise both from one Stem,
They grace the Muses, and the Muses them.

Bring forth your Flaggons (fill'd with sparkling Wine)
Whereon swolne BACCHUS, crowned with a Vine,
Is graven; and fill out,
It well bestowing,
To ev'ry Man about,
In Goblets flowing:
Let not a Man drinke, but in Draughts profound;
To our God PHOEBUS let the Health goe Round.

Let your Jests flye at large; yet therewithall
See they be Salt, but yet not mix'd with Gall:
Not tending to disgrace,
But fayrely given,
Becomming well the place,
Modest, and even;
That they with tickling Pleasure may provoke
Laughter in him, on whom the Jest is broke.

Or if the deeds of HEROES ye rehearse,
Let them be sung in so well-ord'red Verse,
That each word have his weight,
Yet runne with pleasure;
Holding one stately height,
In so brave measure,
That they may make the stiffest Storme seeme weake,
And dampe JOVES Thunder, when it lowd'st doth speake.

And if yee list to exercise your Vayne,
Or in the Sock, or in the Buskin'd Strayne,
Let Art and Nature goe
One with the other;
Yet so, that Art may show
Nature her Mother;
The thick-brayn'd Audience lively to awake,
Till with shrill Claps the Theater doe shake.

Sing Hymnes to BACCHUS then, with hands uprear'd,
Offer to JOVE, who most is to be fear'd:
From him the Muse we have,
From him proceedeth
More then we dare to crave;
'Tis he that feedeth
Them, whom the World would starve; then let the Lyre
Sound, whilst his Altars endlesse flames expire.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net