Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND, by ROBERT ANDREWS First Line: Luss! Be forever sunk beneath / ben's horrors piled around Last Line: The laurel never sere.' Subject(s): Milton, John (1608-1674); Mountains; Hills; Downs (great Britain) | ||||||||
LUSS! be for ever sunk beneath Ben's horrors piled around: Sun's livening ray ne'er pierce thy gloom, Thy hideous deep be drained! Fishes be turned t'infernal snakes, Boatswain to Cerberus! Mouth of th' Avernian Gulf be thou, Its mortal damp thy air! All o'er thy plains volcanoes thick Their burning sands disgorge! Birds never trill their swelling chaunt, Nor roam the humming bee! Herds never graze, nor sheep nor goat, Nor play the shepherd's lute! Crags other echo ne'er repeat Than dismal Furies' yell! Swift on a morning-ray then, lo! The airy-sandalled god, Mercury, came, and smiling: 'I Thy pillow's treasure stole. Milton no more be fancy's fount Of borrowed ecstasies. Phoebus ordained: presenting, see, The laurel never sere.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CALIFORNIA SORROW: MOUNTAIN VIEW by MARY KINZIE CONTRA MORTEM: THE MOUNTAIN FASTNESS by HAYDEN CARRUTH GREEN MOUNTAIN IDYL by HAYDEN CARRUTH IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH |
|