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