Oh! Muse, who erst in Tempe's flowery vale Wert wont to tune thy harp and breathe thy soul, And o'er Peneus pour thy dying wail; Who, when loud roaring thunders rocked the pole, Burst from the dell and 'mid the growling storm Involved in lurid gloom thy shining form; And while the tempest o'er Olympus frowned, And lightnings glittered round the throne of Jove, Thy lyre, with hurried notes and awful sound, Seemed like the voice that rung through dark Dodona's grove. Page 278 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL by PAUL VERLAINE COLUMBUS DYING [MAY 20, 1506] by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR AUGURY by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BELLS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE SCHOONER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE HERON BALLADS: 1. FIRST BALLAD IN THROAT by ROBERT BURNS |