Apollo sings, his harpe resounds; give roome, For now behold the golden Pompe is come, Thy Pompe of Playes which thousands come to see, With admiration both of them and thee, O Volume worthy leafe, by leafe and cover To be with juice of Cedar washt all over; Here's words with lines, and lines with Scenes consent, To raise an Act to full astonishment; Here melting numbers, words of power to move Young men to swoone, and Maides to dye for love. Love lyes a bleeding here, Evadne there Swells with brave rage, yet comely every where, Here's a mad lover, there that high designe Of King and no King (and the rare Plott thine) So that when 'ere we circumvolve our Eyes, Such rich, such fresh, such sweet varietyes, Ravish our spirits, that entranc't wee see None writes lov's passion in the world, like Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY NOVEMBER GUEST by ROBERT FROST THE ROAD NOT TAKEN by ROBERT FROST PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 95, 96. AL-AZALI, AL-BAKI by EDWIN ARNOLD UNCLE AN' AUNT by WILLIAM BARNES THE GARDEN WHERE THERE IS NO WINTER by LOUIS JAMES BLOCK SHOOTING STAR AT HARVEST by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HER NAME LIBERTY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |