Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PAUSILIPPO (IN THE TIME OF BOMBA), by HERMAN MELVILLE Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: A hill there is that laves its feet Last Line: In pity -- futile as the ore! Subject(s): Italy; Italians | ||||||||
A hill there is that laves its feet In Naples' bay and lifts its head In jovial season, curled with vines. Its name, in pristine years conferred By settling Greeks, imports that none Who take the prospect thence can pine, For such the charm of beauty shown Even sorrow's self they cheerful weened Surcease might find and thank good Pan. Toward that hill my landeau drew; And there, hard by the verge, was seen Two faces with such meaning fraught One scarce could mark and straight pass on. A man it was less hoar with time Than bleached through strange immurement long, Retaining still, by doom depressed, Dim trace of some aspiring prime. Seated he tuned a homely harp Watched by a girl, whose filial mien Toward one almost a child again, Took on a staid maternal tone. Nor might one question that the locks Which in smoothed natural silvery curls Fell on the bowed one's thread-bare coat Betrayed her ministering hand. Anon, among some ramblers drawn, A murmur rose "Tis Silvio, Silvio!" With inklings more in tone suppressed Touching his story, part recalled: Clandestine arrest abrupt by night; The sole conjecturable cause The yearning in a patriot ode Construed as treason; trial none; Prolonged captivity profound; Vain liberation late. All this, With pity for impoverishment And blight forestalling age's wane. Hillward the quelled enthusiast turned, Unmanned, made meek through strenuous wrong, Preluding, faltering; then began, But only thrilled the wire -- no more, The constant maid supplying voice, Hinting by no ineloquent sign That she was but his mouth-piece mere, Himself too spiritless and spent. Pausilippo, Pausilippo, Pledging easement unto pain, Shall your beauty even solace If one's sense of beauty wane? Could light airs that round ye play Waft heart-heaviness away Or memory lull to sleep, Then, then indeed your balm Might Silvio becharm, And life in fount would leap, Pausilippo! Did not your spell invite, In moods that slip between, A dream of years serene, And wake, to dash, delight -- Evoking here in vision Fulfilment and fruition -- Nor mine, nor meant for man! Did hope not frequent share The mirage when despair Overtakes the caravan, Me then your scene might move To break from sorrow's snare, And apt your name would prove, Pausilippo! But I've looked upon your revel -- It unravels not the pain: Pausilippo, Pausilippo, Named benignly if in vain! It ceased. In low and languid tone The tideless ripple lapped the passive shore; As listlessly the bland untroubled heaven Looked down as silver doled was silent given In pity -- futile as the ore! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...1851: A MESSAGE TO DENMARK HILL by RICHARD HOWARD TONIGHT THE HEART-SHAPED LEAVES by JAN HELLER LEVI JEWISH GRAVEYARDS, ITALY by PHILIP LEVINE SAILING HOME FROM RAPALLO by ROBERT LOWELL SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW by LISEL MUELLER HOW DUKE VALENTINE CONTRIVED by BASIL BUNTING FRAGMENTS FROM ITALY: 1 by JOHN CIARDI FORMERLY A SLAVE' (AN IDEALIZED PORTRAIT, BY E. VEDDER) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE A DIRGE FOR MCPHERSON; KILLED IN FRONT OF ATLANTA by HERMAN MELVILLE |
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