Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE IMPROVISATORE: THE INDUCTION TO THE FIRST FYTTE, by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Dank is the air and dusk the sky Last Line: Amid the mazy paths of song. Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Minstrels; Music & Musicians; Rites & Ceremonies; Singing & Singers; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens; Songs | ||||||||
She died More innocent than sleep, As clear as her own eyes, and blessedness Eternal waits upon her where she is. KING AND NO KING THE INDUCTION TO THE FIRST FYTTE DANK is the air and dusk the sky, The snow is falling featherily, And, as the light flakes kiss the ground, They dance in mazy circles round; Like venturous nestlings in the shower, Trying their new-fledged pinions' power. The boughs ice-sheathed shake, bristling out, And coral holly berries pout In crystal cradles, like the shine Of goblets flushed with blood-red wine: Whilst whistling breezes hurry by, Snow-clad December's feeble cry, And the pale moonlight downward twirls, Riding upon the snow's cold curls. The subtle net of mist is wove, And all below, and all above Are twinkling through it, the stars beam With many a flash and fitful gleam, Like gold-scaled fishes struggling In flimsy purse of fisher's ring. Within the hall is banquet high, Dazzling with torch and ladies' eye, Rich wine, with steaming wavelets' swell, Is bubbling in its silver well, And from the hearth warm streamlets flow Of cheerful heat and flickering glow; With murmur loud the rebel fire Is spitting forth its flameful ire, Licking with curled fang the bar, And reeking in the strife of war, And waving through the smoke-dimmed air Its blazing banner of red glare: With spicy wreaths the goblet's crowned, And jests and laughter sparkle round. Such feasts of joy and ease repay The toil and dulness of the day, And lighten the dull hours of even, Like stars that guild the dome of heaven. 'Now for a tale,' exclaimed the Knight, 'Breathing the love of ladies bright, 'And virtues high and sorrow deep, 'Till music's self shall seem to weep: 'Call forth that wandering minstrel boy, 'That with his lyre-string loves to toy.' The youth was brought, and low he bowed Modestly to the noble crowd. 'Strike,' quoth the Knight, 'some simple tune, 'Like blackbird's song in leafy June; 'And veil the words you chaunt aloud 'Of love, or war, in music's cloud,' He said: with finger springing light To joyous sounds, the songster wight First tuned his lyre, then danced along Amid the mazy paths of song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE APOLLO TRIO by CONRAD AIKEN BAD GIRL SINGING by MARK JARMAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 4 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 5 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 28 by JAMES JOYCE THE SONG OF THE NIGHTINGALE IS LIKE THE SCENT OF SYRINGA by MINA LOY BALLAD OF HUMAN LIFE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DIRGE FOR WOLFRAM by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |
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