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    Poems
    Poems
    Poems
    Ebook181 pages1 hour

    Poems

    By Robert Southey

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    "Poems" by Robert Southey
    Robert Southey was an English poet of the Romantic school and he was widely popular with fans of this style of poetry. This book is a collection of his poems. The volume's poems are organized into the following sections: The vision of the Maid of Orleans, The Rose, The Complaints of the Poor, Metrical Letter, Ballads, and English Eclogues. Through the poems, readers are able to catch glimpses of his style transform from the radical to the more conservative.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 9, 2019
    ISBN4064066213725
    Poems
    Author

    Robert Southey

    Robert Southey (1774 –1843) was an English Romantic poet, and Poet Laureate for 30 years. He was a prolific letter writer, literary scholar, historian and biographer. Perhaps his most enduring contribution to literary history is The Story of the Three Bears, the original Goldilocks story, first published in Southey's prose collection The Doctor. His biographies include the life and works of John Bunyan, John Wesley, William Cowper, Oliver Cromwell and Horatio Nelson.

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      Book preview

      Poems - Robert Southey

      Robert Southey

      Poems

      Published by Good Press, 2019

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4064066213725

      Table of Contents

      ERRORS

      THE TRIUMPH OF WOMAN

      TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.

      POEMS

      SONNET I

      SONNET II

      SONNET III

      SONNET IV

      SONNET V

      SONNET VI

      TO THE GENIUS OF AFRICA

      THE PAUPER'S FUNERAL

      ODE

      INSCRIPTION II.

      INSCRIPTION III.

      INSCRIPTION IV.

      INSCRIPTION V.

      INSCRIPTION VI.

      INSCRIPTION VII.

      INSCRIPTION VIII.

      BOTANY BAY

      ELINOR.

      FREDERIC.

      SONNET II.

      SONNET III.

      SONNET IV.

      SONNET V.

      SONNET VIII.

      SONNET IX.

      SONNET X.

      ODE

      ERRORS

      Table of Contents

      p.151 - in the last line but one, for nosal, read nasal. p.192 - line 8, for wild, read mild. p. 203 - in the note, for Complicces, read Complices.

      THE TRIUMPH OF WOMAN

      Table of Contents

      [Greek (transliterated):

      Ou gar thaeluierais demas opasen aemiielesion

      Morphaen, ophra xai allaperi chroi technaesainio.

      NATMACHIOS.]

      TO MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT.

      Table of Contents

      The lilly cheek, the purple light of love,

      The liquid lustre of the melting eye—

      Mary! of these the Poet sung, for these

      Did Woman triumph! with no angry frown

      View this degrading conquest. At that age

      No MAID OF ARC had snatch'd from coward man

      The heaven-blest sword of Liberty; thy sex

      Could boast no female ROLAND'S martyrdom;

      No CORDE'S angel and avenging arm

      Had sanctified again the Murderer's name

      As erst when Caesar perish'd: yet some strains

      May even adorn this theme, befitting me

      To offer, nor unworthy thy regard.

      ROBERT SOUTHEY.

      The Subject of the following Poem may be found in the Third and Fourth

      Chapters of the first Book of Esdras.

      THE TRIUMPH of WOMAN.

      Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost

      To reach secure at length his native coast,

      Who wandering long o'er distant lands has sped,

      The night-blast wildly howling round his head,

      Known all the woes of want, and felt the storm

      Of the bleak winter parch his shivering form;

      The journey o'er and every peril past

      Beholds his little cottage-home at last,

      And as he sees afar the smoke curl slow,

      Feels his full eyes with transport overflow:

      So from the scene where Death and Anguish reign,

      And Vice and Folly drench with blood the plain,

      Joyful I turn, to sing how Woman's praise

      Avail'd again Jerusalem to raise,

      Call'd forth the sanction of the Despot's nod,

      And freed the nation best-belov'd of God.

      Darius gives the feast: to Persia's court,

      Awed by his will, the obedient throng resort,

      Attending Satraps swell the Prince's pride,

      And vanquish'd Monarchs grace their Conqueror's side.

      No more the Warrior wears the garb of war,

      Sharps the strong steel, or mounts the scythed car;

      No more Judaea's sons dejected go,

      And hang the head and heave the sigh of woe.

      From Persia's rugged hills descend the train.

      From where Orontes foams along the plain,

      From where Choaspes rolls his royal waves,

      And India sends her sons, submissive slaves.

      Thy daughters Babylon to grace the feast

      Weave the loose robe, and paint the flowery vest,

      With roseate wreaths they braid the glossy hair.

      They tinge the cheek which Nature form'd so fair,

      Learn the soft step, the soul-subduing glance,

      Melt in the song, and swim adown the dance.

      Exalted on the Monarch's golden throne

      In royal state the fair Apame shone;

      Her form of majesty, her eyes of fire

      Chill with respect, or kindle with desire.

      The admiring multitude her charms adore,

      And own her worthy of the crown she wore.

      Now on his couch reclin'd Darius lay,

      Tir'd with the toilsome pleasures of the day;

      Without Judaea's watchful sons await

      To guard the sleeping pageant of the state.

      Three youths were these of Judah's royal race,

      Three youths whom Nature dower'd with every grace,

      To each the form of symmetry she gave,

      And haughty Genius curs'd each favorite slave;

      These fill'd the cup, around the Monarch kept,

      Serv'd as he spake, and guarded whilst he slept.

      Yet oft for Salem's hallowed towers laid low

      The sigh would heave, the unbidden tear would flow;

      And when the dull and wearying round of Power

      Allowed Zorobabel one vacant hour,

      He lov'd on Babylon's high wall to roam,

      And stretch the gaze towards his distant home,

      Or on Euphrates' willowy banks reclin'd

      Hear the sad harp moan fitful to the wind.

      As now the perfum'd lamps stream wide their light,

      And social converse chears the livelong night,

      Thus spake Zorobabel, "too long in vain

      "For Sion desolate her sons complain;

      "In anguish worn the joyless years lag slow,

      "And these proud conquerors mock their captive's woe.

      "Whilst Cyrus triumph'd here in victor state

      "A brighter prospect chear'd our exil'd fate,

      "Our sacred walls again he bade us raise,

      "And to Jehovah rear the pile of praise.

      "Quickly these fond hopes faded from our eyes,

      "As the frail sun that gilds the wintry skies,

      "And spreads a moment's radiance o'er the plain,

      "Soon hid by clouds that dim the scene again.

      "Opprest by Artaxerxes' jealous reign

      "We vainly pleaded here, and wept in vain.

      "Now when Darius, chief of mild command,

      "Bids joy and pleasure fill the festive land,

      "Still shall we droop the head in sullen grief,

      "And sternly silent shun to seek relief?

      "What if amid the Monarch's mirthful throng

      "Our harps should echo to the chearful song?

      Fair is the occasion, thus the one replied,

      "And now let all our tuneful skill be tried.

      "Whilst the gay courtiers quaff the smiling bowl,

      "And wine's strong fumes inspire the madden'd soul,

      "Where all around is merriment, be mine

      "To strike the lute, and praise the power of Wine.

      And whilst his friend replied in state alone

      "Lord of the earth Darius fills the throne,

      "Be yours the mighty power of Wine to sing,

      My lute shall sound the praise of Persia's King.

      To them Zorobabel, on themes like these

      "Seek ye the Monarch of Mankind to please;

      "To Wine superior or to Power's strong arms,

      "Be mine to sing resistless Woman's charms.

      "To him victorious in the rival lays

      "Shall just Darius give the meed of praise;

      "The purple robe his honor'd frame shall fold,

      "The beverage sparkle in his cup of gold;

      "A golden couch support his bed of rest,

      "The chain of honor grace his favor'd breast;

      "His the soft turban, his the car's array

      "O'er Babylon's high wall to wheel its way;

      "And for his wisdom seated on the

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