Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE GYMNASIAD, OR BOXING MATCH: BOOK 3, by PAUL WHITEHEAD


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE GYMNASIAD, OR BOXING MATCH: BOOK 3, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: As when two monarchs of the brindled breed
Last Line: High soared applause on acclamation's wing.
Subject(s): Applause; Boxing & Boxers; Fights; Heroism; Victory; Heroes; Heroines


As when two monarchs of the brindled breed
Dispute the proud dominion of the mead,
They fight, they foam, then wearied in the fray,
Aloof retreat, and low'ring stand at bay:
So stood the heroes, and indignant glared,
While grim with blood their rueful fronts were smeared,
Till with returning strength new rage returns,
Again their arms are steeled, again each bosom burns.
Incessant now their hollow sides they pound,
Loud on each breast the bounding bangs resound;
Their flying fists around the temples glow,
And the jaws crackle with the massy blow.
The raging combat ev'ry eye appals,
Strokes following strokes, and falls succeeding falls.
Now drooped the youth yet, urging all his might,
With feeble arm still vindicates the fight:
Till on the part where heaved the panting breath,
A fatal blow impressed the seal of death.
Down dropped the hero, welt'ring in his gore,
And his stretched limbs lay quiv'ring on the floor.
So when a falcon skims the airy way,
Stoops from the clouds and pounces on his prey,
Dashed on the earth the feathered victim lies,
Expands its feeble wings and, flutt'ring, dies,
His faithful friends their dying hero reared,
O'er his broad shoulders dangling hung his head;
Dragging its limbs, they bear the body forth,
Mashed teeth and clotted blood came issuing from his mouth.
Thus then the victor—'O celestial pow'r!
Who gave this arm to boast one triumph more,
Now grey in glory, let my labours cease,
My blood-stained laurel wed the branch of peace;
Lured by the lustre of the golden prize,
No more in combat this proud crest shall rise;
To future heroes future deeds belong,
Be mine the theme of some immortal song.'
This said—he seized the prize, while round the ring
High soared applause on acclamation's wing.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


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