William Taylor Collins
In earliest Grece to Thee with partial Choice,
The Grief-full Muse addrest her infant Tongue;
The Maids and Matrons, on her awful Voice,
Silent and pale in wild Amazement hung.
Yet he the Bard who first invok'd thy Name,
Disdain'd in Marathon its Pow'r to feel:
For not alone he nurs'd the Poet's flame,
But reach'd from Virtue's Hand the Patriot's Steel.
But who is He whom later Garlands grace,
Who left a-while o'er Hybla's Dews to rove,
With trembling Eyes thy dreary Steps to trace,
Where Thou and Furies shar'd the baleful Grove?
Wrapt in thy cloudy Veil th' Incestuous Queen
Sigh'd the sad Call her Son and Husband hear'd,
When once alone it broke the silent Scene,
And He the Wretch of Thebes no more appear'd.
O Fear, I know Thee by my throbbing Heart,
Thy with'ring Pow'r inspir'd each mournful Line,
Tho' gentle Pity claim her mingled Part,
Yet all the Thunders of the Scene are thine!
William Taylor Collins's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Epode by William Taylor Collins )
- Parents need good parenting., PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- Without a Knife You Can Kill, Toshie Nohara
- Always under a shadow, SALINI NAIR
- My Savior, Bree Balzly
- Fight for Closure, Bree Balzly
- Pictures Of Interior Mysteries, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Period Of Grace And Music, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Love Becoming Pictures, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Blessed September, Shqipe Prence
- Reasonable truth, Kiran Prasad
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