BENEATH your leafy gloom, ye waving boughs Of this old, shady, consecrated grove, As in the goddess' silent sanctuary, With the same shuddering feeling forth I step, As when I trod it first, nor ever here Doth my unquiet spirit feel at home. Long as the mighty will, to which I bow, Hath kept me here concealed, still, as at first, I feel myself a stranger. For the sea Doth sever me, alas! from those I love, And day by day upon the shore I stand, My soul still seeking for the land of Greece. But to my sighs the hollow-sounding waves Bring, save their own hoarse murmurs, no reply. Alas for him who, friendless and alone, Remote from parents and from brethren, dwells! From him grief snatches every coming joy Ere it doth reach his lip. His restless thoughts Revert forever to his father's halls, Where first to him the radiant sun unclosed The gates of heaven; where closer, day by day, Brothers and sisters, leagued in pastime sweet, Around each other twined the bonds of love. I will not judge the counsel of the gods; Yet, truly, woman's lot doth merit pity. Man rules alike at home and in the field, Nor is in foreign climes without resource; Possession gladdens him, him conquest crowns, And him an honorable death awaits. How circumscribed is woman's destiny! Obedience to a harsh, imperious lord Her duty and her comfort; sad her fate, Whom hostile fortune drives to lands remote: Thus I, by noble Thoas, am detained, Bound with a heavy, though a sacred chain. O, with what shame, Diana, I confess That with repugnance I perform these rites For thee, divine protectress! unto whom I would in freedom dedicate my life. In thee, Diana, I have always hoped, And still I hope in thee, who didst infold Within the holy shelter of thine arm The outcast daughter of the mighty king. Daughter of Jove! hast thou from ruined Troy Led back in triumph to his native land The mighty man, whom thou didst sore afflict, His daughter's life in sacrifice demanding, -- Hast thou for him, the godlike Agamemnon, Who to thine altar led his darling child, Preserved his wife, Electra, and his son, His dearest treasures? -- then at length restore Thy suppliant also to her friends and home, And save her, as thou once from death didst save, So now, from living here, a second death. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO CHARLOTTE PULTENEY [IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS] by AMBROSE PHILIPS OUR OLD VERMONT LUMBER WAGON by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY THE PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAIN OF ST. GOTHARD. TO MY CHILDREN by GEORGIANA (SPENCER) CAVENDISH LOVES HOROSCOPE by RICHARD CRASHAW |