Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SONG OF THE PROW-GILDERS, by VICTOR MARIE HUGO Poet's Biography First Line: We are the gilders of the prows Last Line: Beneath thy groaning galley-slaves. Subject(s): Sea; Ocean | ||||||||
WE are the gilders of the prows. The whirl-winds the smooth sea arouse, Spun onward like a turning wheel; They fill the hollows of the deep With shining spume and therein sweep The galleys on a slanting keel. The squall whips round, the sly winds veer; Loud the dark Archer, sounding clear, Holds the dread trumpet to his lips. Mid this bewilderment 'tis we, Though the wroth waves lurch giddily, Send forth, gold-helmed, the spectre ships. For spectre-like their golden helms Thrust thro' the flood and wind that whelms; Proud from our slips they take the sea, A dauntless mark for lightning's lance And a stern, terror-striking glance To perils lurking stealthily. Under the cooling leafage go; Keep shut thy full seraglio; Let not the veils down fall, O Sire, From that strange throng that yestermorn Stark nakéd to the mart were borne For barter to the highest buyer. What matters that to wind or wave, A fair slave or a dusky slave, From Alep or from Ispahan? From thee alike all shrink away. How wouldst thou then that that should sway The wild and wondrous ocëan? Each sates and spends his royal whim; The sceptre's thine; the storm's to him And lightning; each hath blades to smite; Thou hast thy scimitar, and he His wrath; as of the wind the sea, Men murmur at the Sultan's might. We toil for ocean and for king. Loud at our twofold task we sing! O swarthy Lord of high renown, Thy stony heart, thy steely eye Shall not to drowsy birds deny Their slumber-time when dusk comes down. For Nature holds eternal sway Nor falters; God's spread wing's alway A shield whereunder all may hide; We sing within the stilly shade Blithe songs that rise all unafraid Of black reefs hid beneath the tide. Let these our masters bear the palm, Be crowned with laurel; we are calm So that they leave for us aloof The myriad stars, so clouds still fly On their swift courses steadily Unheeding any man's behoof. June shines, and flow'r on flow'r unfurls; The rose buds on white-breasted girls; There's sport and mirth; the craftsmen sing. Ah! then is penance hard to dree, And the shy fawns light-footed flee And set the leashed hounds quivering. O Sultan, though thy life be spent Lapped round with soothest ravishment, Yet shalt thou die, and be no more. Then live and reignfor life is sweet. The fallow deer with folded feet Lie dreaming on the forest floor. The mounted stairway leads thee back To lowly earth; bright fires turn black; The grave cries "Lo!" to humankind. Time's changing moons unplume the bird; The slow resurgent tides are stirred And dying voices freight the wind. The air is warm; bare women dive Into the pool; buds sunward strive In heedless throngs; all's mirth and love. White lustre shimmers on the mere; The woodland roses upward peer, Self-mirrored in the stars above. Thy galley we have gilded bright. Four hundred shackled rowers smite Out from the port the insurgent waves. She curbs the wind, she climbs the tide; On either hand the rowlocks slide Beneath thy groaning galley-slaves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HALL OF OCEAN LIFE by JOHN HOLLANDER JULY FOURTH BY THE OCEAN by ROBINSON JEFFERS BOATS IN A FOG by ROBINSON JEFFERS CONTINENT'S END by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE FIGUREHEAD by LEONIE ADAMS A COUP D'ETAT; AN INCIDENT IN THE NIGHT OF DECEMBER 4, 1851 by VICTOR MARIE HUGO |
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