|
Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 12. TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET, by MARK AKENSIDE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Behold; the balance in the sky Last Line: Or I have eyes for her alone. Subject(s): Drake, Sir Francis (1540-1596) | |||
I. BEHOLD; the Balance in the sky Swift on the wintery scale inclines: To earthy caves the Dryads fly, And the bare pastures Pan resigns. Late did the farmer's fork o'erspread With recent soil the twice-mown mead, Tainting the bloom which Autumn knows: He whets the rusty coulter now, He binds his oxen to the plough, And wide his future harvest throws. II. Now, London's busy confines round, By Kensington's imperial towers, From Highgate's rough descent profound, Essexian heaths, or Kentish bowers, Where'er I pass, I see approach Some rural statesman's eager coach Hurried by senatorial cares: While rural nymphs (alike, within, Aspiring courtly praise to win) Debate their dress, reform their airs. III. Say, what can now the country boast, O Drake, thy footsteps to detain, Where peevish winds and gloomy frost The sunshine of the temper stain? Say, are the priests of Devon grown Friends to this tolerating throne, Champions for George's legal right? Have general freedom, equal law, Won to the glory of Nassau Each bold Wessexian squire and knight? IV. I doubt it much; and guess at least That when the day which made us free, Shall next return, that sacred feast Thou better may'st observe with me. With me the sulphurous treason old A far inferior part shall hold In that glad day's triumphal strain; And generous William be revered, Nor one untimely accent heard Of James or his ignoble reign. V. Then, while the Gascon's fragrant wine With modest cups our joy supplies, We 'll truly thank the power divine Who bade the chief, the patriot rise: Rise from heroic ease (the spoil Due, for his youth's Herculean toil, From Belgium to her saviour son) Rise with the same unconquer'd zeal For our Britannia's injured weal, Her laws defaced, her shrines o'erthrown. VI. He came. The tyrant from our shore, Like a forbidden demon, fled; And to eternal exile bore Pontific rage and vassal dread. There sunk the mouldering Gothic reign: New years came forth, a liberal train, Call'd by the people's great decree. That day, my friend, let blessings crown: Fill, to the demigod's renown From whom thou hast that thou art free. VII. Then, Drake, (for wherefore should we part The public and the private weal?) In vows to her who sways thy heart, Fair health, glad fortune, will we deal Whether Aglaia's blooming cheek, Or the soft ornaments that speak So eloquent in Daphne's smile; Whether the piercing lights that fly From the dark heaven of Myrto's eye, Haply thy fancy then beguile. VIII. For so it is:thy stubborn breast, Though touch'd by many a slighter wound, Hath no full conquest yet confess'd, Nor the one fatal charmer found. While I, a true and loyal swain, My fair Olympia's gentle reign Through all the varying seasons own. Her genius still my bosom warms: No other maid for me hath charms, Or I have eyes for her alone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE. SITTING AND DRINKING IN THE CHAIR ... by ABRAHAM COWLEY UPON THE CHAIR MADE OUT OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE'S SHIP ... by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE VOICE OF FRANCIS DRAKE (FROM NOMBRE DE DIOS BAY, 1919) by ETHELEAN TYSON GAW OF THE GREAT AND FAMOUS ... SIR FRANCIS DRAKE ... by ROBERT HAYMAN A GLIMPSE OF OCEAN by F. H. MCMAHON FRANCIS DRAKE; A TRAGEDY OF THE SEA by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL A FAREWELL TO SIR JOHN NORRIS AND SIR FRANCIS DRAKE by GEORGE PEELE THE FIRST AMERICAN SAILORS by WALLACE RICE EPIGRAM ON SIR FRANCIS DRAKE by ANONYMOUS THE VIRTUOSO; IN IMITATION OF SPENCER'S STYLE AND STANZA by MARK AKENSIDE |
|