Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, <br /> Thick breaks the red flame; <br /> All Etna heaves fiercely <br /> Her forest-clothed frame. <br /> <br /> Not here, O Apollo! <br /> Are haunts meet for thee. <br /> But, where Helicon breaks down <br /> In cliff to the sea, <br /> <br /> Where the moon-silver'd inlets <br /> Send far their light voice <br /> Up the still vale of Thisbe, <br /> O speed, and rejoice! <br /> <br /> On the sward at the cliff-top <br /> Lie strewn the white flocks, <br /> On the cliff-side the pigeons <br /> Roost deep in the rocks. <br /> <br /> In the moonlight the shepherds, <br /> Soft lull'd by the rills, <br /> Lie wrapped in their blankets <br /> Asleep on the hills. <br /> <br /> --What forms are these coming <br /> So white through the gloom? <br /> What garments out-glistening <br /> The gold-flower'd broom? <br /> <br /> What sweet-breathing presence <br /> Out-perfumes the thyme? <br /> What voices enrapture <br /> The night's balmy prime? <br /> <br /> 'Tis Apollo comes leading <br /> His choir, the Nine. <br /> --The leader is fairest, <br /> But all are divine. <br /> <br /> They are lost in the hollows! <br /> They stream up again! <br /> What seeks on this mountain <br /> The glorified train?-- <br /> <br /> They bathe on this mountain, <br /> In the spring by their road; <br /> Then on to Olympus, <br /> Their endless abode. <br /> <br /> --Whose proase do they mention? <br /> Of what is it told?-- <br /> What will be for ever; <br /> What was from of old. <br /> <br /> First hymn they the Father <br /> Of all things; and then, <br /> The rest of immortals, <br /> The action of men. <br /> <br /> The day in his hotness, <br /> The strife with the palm; <br /> The night in her silence, <br /> The stars in their calm.<br /><br />Matthew Arnold<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apollo-musagetes/
