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Apollo Musagetes

Written by: Matthew Arnold | Biography
 | Quotes (42) |
 Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,
Thick breaks the red flame;
All Etna heaves fiercely
Her forest-clothed frame. 

Not here, O Apollo!
Are haunts meet for thee.
But, where Helicon breaks down
In cliff to the sea, 

Where the moon-silver'd inlets
Send far their light voice
Up the still vale of Thisbe,
O speed, and rejoice! 

On the sward at the cliff-top
Lie strewn the white flocks,
On the cliff-side the pigeons
Roost deep in the rocks. 

In the moonlight the shepherds,
Soft lull'd by the rills,
Lie wrapped in their blankets
Asleep on the hills. 

--What forms are these coming
So white through the gloom?
What garments out-glistening
The gold-flower'd broom? 

What sweet-breathing presence
Out-perfumes the thyme?
What voices enrapture
The night's balmy prime? 

'Tis Apollo comes leading
His choir, the Nine.
--The leader is fairest,
But all are divine. 

They are lost in the hollows!
They stream up again!
What seeks on this mountain
The glorified train?-- 

They bathe on this mountain,
In the spring by their road;
Then on to Olympus,
Their endless abode. 

--Whose proase do they mention?
Of what is it told?--
What will be for ever;
What was from of old. 

First hymn they the Father
Of all things; and then,
The rest of immortals,
The action of men. 

The day in his hotness,
The strife with the palm;
The night in her silence,
The stars in their calm.



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