From Anacreon
George Gordon Lord Byron 1788 (London) – 1824 (Missolonghi, Aetolia)
I wish to tune my quivering lyre
To deed of fame and notes of fire;
To echo, from its rising swell,
How heroes fought and nations fell,
When Atreus' sons advanced to war,
Or Tyrian Cadmus roved afar;
But still, to martial strains unknown,
My lyre recurs to love alone.
Fired with the hope of future fame,
I seek some nobler hero's name;
The dying chords are strung anew,
To war, to war, my harp is due.
With glowing strings, the epic strain
To Jove's great son I raise again;
Alcides and his glorious deeds,
Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds.
All, all in vain; my wayward lyre
Wakes silver notes of soft desire.
Adieu, ye chiefs renown'd in arms!
Adieu the clang of war's alarms!
To other deeds my soul is strung,
And sweeter notes shall now be sung;
My harp shall all its powers reveal,
To tell the tale my heart must feel;
Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim,
In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 52 sec read
- 82 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AABBCDEEFFGGHHIIAJKKLLMMFF |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 885 |
Words | 172 |
Stanzas | 1 |
Stanza Lengths | 26 |
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"From Anacreon" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 20 Sep. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/15099/from-anacreon>.
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