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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HAGESICHORA, by ALCMAN Poet's Biography First Line: Vengeance is god's: he will repay Last Line: In her companion's hair. . . . Alternate Author Name(s): Alkman | |||
VENGEANCE is God's: he will repay. Lucky who, without a tear, fills the pattern of one day with gaiety. And now, give ear! Of radiant Agido my lay shall be -- her radiance as clear as the sun, whose morning ray she conjures to appear. I hear, but any praise or any blame of her is silenced by our fair chief-chorister whose beauty seems as high and rare as if with brutes one should compare a sturdy thundering horse, a champion, of winged dreams the son. There's the likeness, plain to see: steed of proud Enetic race, and my cousin -- fair is she and her tresses have the grace of a golden filigree; beneath the gold, a silver face -- shall I say whose it must be? It is Hagesichora's. In beauty they shall be competitors -- a Lydian horse to pace a Scythian horse. For while we make our offering the Pleiades arise and sing in rivalry, like Sirius burning bright in the ambrosial night. Not the wealth of crimson dress makes our choir victorious, nor do golden snakes that press wrist and neck embolden us; Lydian coif brings not success -- veiling our luxurious maiden-eyes -- nor Nanno's tress nor Arete the beauteous. Sylakis, or Kleesisera? nay -- Nor at the school of Ainesimbrote can you say 'My saviour is Philylla, or Astaphis, lovely Vianthemis, Damareta --' 'tis Hagesichora! Look, beside me sings my friend, my cousin, of the ankles small: Agido and she commend alike our ceremonial. Immortals, who possess the end of every action, hear their call with favour, as their voices blend! For my own singing is the squall which the owl screeches foolishly above the rooftree; though my heart would dearly love to please the goddess Dawn who brings comfort for our sufferings. Yet Hagesichora leads us with song to peace, for which we long. The chariot obediently follows the outrunning steed; men obey the helmsman's cry, when on shipboard, with all speed. Our own leader's melody though it surpasses not, indeed, the Sirens -- they are gods -- will vie with ten or more of mortal breed. Her voice is like a swan upon the streams of Xanthus river; and the golden gleams in her companion's hair. . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH PENETRANT by CONRAD AIKEN TO A BLUEBELL by EMILY JANE BRONTE A SOLILOQUY; OCCASIONED BY THE CHIRPING OF A GRASSHOPPER by WALTER HARTE THE PLOUGHMAN by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES RICH AND POOR; OR, SAINT AND SINNER by THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK LOUSE HUNTING by ISAAC ROSENBERG |
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