CEASE, skilful Orpheus, whose mellifluous strains Have erst made stones and trees skip o'er the plains; A sweeter harmony invites our ears Than e'er was sent from the celestial spheres. Clear Tavy now his silver head may raise, A shepherd of his own can sing his praise. Sweet-tongu'd Arion, strive not with such odds, Thy song mov'd but the dolphins: his the gods. O hadst thou deign'd to move thy sweeter tongue, The wolf had stay'd to hearken to thy song; Had Pan's ears suck'd the nectar of thy breath, For thy sake Cælia had been free from death, But that the Fates denied, as who should say By Willy's pen her fame shall live for aye. Walla a garland will compose no more To crown her Tavy's temples as before; But as to them that best deserve the praise, She'll give to thee the garland and the bays; And if a verse thy glory may confine, Thou sing'st Britannia's praise, Britannia thine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUTH OF NATURE: WORDSWORTH'S COUNTRY by MATTHEW ARNOLD COMPANIONS; A TALE OF A GRANDFATHER by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY IN ANSWER TO MR. POPE by ANNE FINCH A HEALTH by EDWARD COATE PINKNEY FIRELIGHT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |