@3Enth.@1 Divinest Orpheus, O how all from thee Proceed with wondrous sweetness! Am I free? Is my affiction vanished? @3Orph.@1 Too, too long, Alas, good Entheus, hast thou brooked this wrong. What! number thee with madmen! O mad age, Senseless of thee, and thy celestial rage! For thy excelling rapture, ev'n through things That seems most light, is borne with sacred wings: Nor are these musics, shows, or revels vain, When thou adorn'st them with thy Phoebean brain. Th'are palate-sick of much more vanity, That cannot taste them in their dignity. Jove therefore lets thy prisoned sprite obtain Her liberty and fiery scope again; And here by me commands thee to create Inventions rare, this night to celebrate, Such as become a nuptial by his will Begun and ended. @3Enth.@1 Jove I honour still, And must obey. Orpheus, I feel the fires Are ready in my brain, which Jove inspires. Lo, through that veil I see Prometheus stand Before those glorious lights which his false hand Stole out of heaven, the dull earth to inflame With the affects of Love and honoured Fame. I view them plain in pomp and majesty, Such as being seen might hold rivality With the best triumphs. Orpheus, give a call With thy charmed music, and discover all. @3Orph.@1 Fly, cheerful voices, through the air, and clear. These clouds, that you hid beauty may appear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLOTHES by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER TO MARY by GEORGE GORDON BYRON TO A SHADE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS IN MEMORY OF GENERAL GRANT by HENRY ABBEY CHILDHOOD by JENS IMMANUEL BAGGESEN THE JACKET OF GREY by CAROLINE AUGUSTA BALL THE RECOLLECTION OF THE PEOPLE by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER |