O'erhung with yew, midway the muses mount From thy sweet murmurs far, O Hippocrene! Turbid and black upboils an angry fount Tossing its shatter'd foam in vengeful spleen -- Phlegethon's rage Cocytus' wailings hoarse Alternate now, now mixt, made known its headlong course: Thither with terror stricken and surprise, (For sure such haunts were ne'er to Muse's choice) Euterpe led me. Mute with asking eyes I stood expectant of her heavenly voice. Her voice entranc'd my terror and made flow In a rude understrain the maniac fount below. 'Whene'er (the Goddess said) abhorr'd of Jove Usurping Power his hands in blood imbrues --' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TERMINUS (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE DOUBLE-HEADED SNAKE OF NEWBURY by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 3. TO THE CUCKOO by MARK AKENSIDE THE ENGLISH POETS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN VERSES IN A WATCH by WILLIAM CZAR BRADLEY AUTUMN MOOD by SELETHA A. BROWN |