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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341339" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>At Delphi</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>Where hast thou, Apollo, gone?<br>I have wandered on and on,<br>Through the shaggy Dorian gorges,<br>Down from where Parnassus forges<br>Thunder for the Phocian valleys;<br>Where the Pleistus springs and sallies<br>Past ravines and caverns dread,<br>Have, like it, meanderëd;<br>But I cannot see thee, hear thee,<br>Find thee, feel thee, get anear thee.<br>Though in quest of thee I go where<br>Thou didst haunt, I find thee nowhere,<br>Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Still no answer comes. . . . Apollo!<br>Vainly do I call and holloa<br>Into each Crissoean cleft<br>Where the last year's leaves are left.<br>Deem not I have pushed my way<br>But from stony Amphissà.<br>I have come from far-off land,<br>Traversed foam, traversed sand,<br>From green pastures sea-surrounded,<br>Where thy phorminx never sounded;<br>O'er the broad and barren acres<br>Of the vainly furrowed breakers,<br>Across mountains loftier far<br>Than the peaks of Pindus are;<br>Skirted groves of pine and fir<br>Denser than lone Tempe's were,<br>With no selfish tread, but only<br>I might find thee, lovely, lonely,<br>Lingering by thy sacred city:<br>On me wilt thou not have pity?<br>Sun-god! Song-god! I implore thee!<br>Glow, and let me pale before thee,<br>Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV<br>Fallen tablet, prostrate column,<br>Solitude and silence solemn!<br>Half-tilled patches, squalid hovels,<br>Where life multiplies and grovels-<br>Is this Delphi, this the shrine<br>Of the Musagete divine?<br>This the cavern, this the cell,<br>Of the Pythian oracle!<br>Where the tripod, where the altar,<br>Incense, embassy, and psalter?<br>Can this pool of cresses be<br>Cradle of pure Castaly?<br>From the rock though still it bubbles,<br>Travels onwards, halts, and doubles,<br>Where the Muses wont to lave<br>Limbs as vestal as its wave,<br>'Mong the flashing waters flashing,-<br>Gaunt and withered crones are washing.<br>Not a note of lyre or zittern,<br>But, below, the booming bittern<br>Waits his quarry to inveigle,<br>While o'erhead the silent eagle,<br>Blinking, stares at the blank sun-<br>All of thee that is not gone,<br>Apollo! Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V<br>Who art thou, intruder weird!<br>With the fine and flowing beard?<br>Whom no snowy robes encumber,<br>But a habit black and sombre,<br>Yet in whose composëd eyes<br>Lurks the light of mysteries.<br>Priest thou seemest, but not one<br>Of the loved Latona's son.<br>In thy aspect is no gladness,<br>Glance nor gleam of joyous madness,<br>Only gloom, only sadness.<br>Underneath thy knotted girdle<br>Thoughts congeal and passions curdle,<br>And about thy brow ascetic<br>Lives nor light nor line prophetic.<br>Priest, but priest not of Apollo,<br>Whither wouldst thou have me follow?<br>Lead but onward, I will enter<br>Where thy cold gaze seems to centre,<br>Underneath yon portal dismal,<br>Into dusk and chill abysmal.<br>Hast thou pent him? Is He lying<br>There within, dethroned and dying?<br>If thou breathest, hear me crying,<br>``Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI<br>No, but here He cannot be,<br>God of light and poesy!<br>What are these I see around,<br>Gloomy upon gloomy ground,<br>Making wall and roof to seem<br>Sepulchre of morbid dream?<br>Visages with aspect stony,<br>Bodies lean, and lank, and bony,<br>In whose lineaments I trace<br>Neither love, nor joy, nor grace:<br>Youth with limbs disused and old,<br>Maidens pale, contorted, cold,<br>Flames devouring, pincers wrenching<br>Muscles naked but unblenching,<br>Writhing snakes forked venom darting<br>Into flesh-wounds, gaping, smarting,<br>Furies shagged with tresses fell,<br>Ghouls and ghosts of nether hell!<br>Priest of beauty! Priest of song!<br>Aid me, if thou still art strong!<br>See me! save me! bear me whither<br>Glows thy light that brought me hither,<br>Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII<br>O the sunshine once again!<br>O to stand a man 'mong men!<br>Lo! the horrid nightmare pales<br>In the light of flowing vales,<br>In the gaze of steadfast mountains,<br>Sidelong runnels, forward fountains,<br>Spacious sky, receding air,<br>Breadth and bounty everywhere.<br>What if all the gods be dead,<br>Nature reigneth in their stead.<br>Let me dream the noon away<br>Underneath this full-blown bay,<br>Where the yellow bees are busy,<br>Till they stagger, drowsy, dizzy,<br>From the honeyed wine that wells<br>Up the branches to the cells<br>Of the myriad-clustered flowers<br>Dropping golden flakes in showers.<br>Here reclined, I will surrender<br>Sense and soul unto the tender<br>Mingling of remote and close:<br>Gods voluptuous, gods morose;<br>Altars at whose marble meet<br>Downcast eyes and dancing feet;<br>Awful dirges, glad carouse,<br>Unveiled bosoms, shaded brows,<br>Wreathëd steer and tonsured skull,<br>Shapes austere with beautiful;<br>Till the past and present swim<br>In an ether distant, dim,<br>And the Delphic fumes rise denser<br>From a silver-swinging censer,<br>And in one harmonious dream,<br>Through a heavenly nimbus, gleam<br>Lovely limbs and longings saintly,<br>And pale virgins murmur faintly,<br>``Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII<br>Priest, but priest not of Apollo,<br>Why dost thou my footsteps follow<br>From the deep dark shrine down there<br>To this temple of the air?<br>What, profaner! wouldst thou lay<br>Hands upon the sacred bay,<br>Tearing Daphne limb from limb!<br>Hast thou, then, no dread of Him?<br>How? For me? Avaunt, and pass!<br>I am not fool Marsyas.<br>Stay! Then to my forehead bind it,<br>Round my temples wreathe and wind it;<br>'Chance the Avenger then will come,<br>Haunt and grot no more be dumb,<br>But the rills and steeps be ringing,<br>And a long array come singing,<br>``Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IX<br>All in vain! Nor prayer nor taunt<br>Tempts him back to his loved haunt.<br>Fretted tablet, fallen column,<br>Solitude and silence solemn!<br>He again from Peneus ne'er<br>Will to Castaly repair;<br>Never more in cavern dread<br>Will his oracles be read;<br>Now I know that Thou art dead,<br>Apollo!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">X<br>Then like fountain in mine ear<br>Spake the god aloud and clear:<br>``Take it! Wear it! Tis for thee,<br>Singer from the Northern Sea.<br>If the least, not last of those,<br>Suckled 'mong the genial snows.<br>Though the Muses may have left<br>Tempe's glen and Delphi's cleft,<br>Wanderer! they have only gone<br>Hence to murmuring Albion.<br>Need was none to travel hither:<br>Child of England, go back thither.<br>Traverse foam, traverse sand;<br>Back, and in thy native land<br>Thou wilt find what thou dost seek.<br>There the oracles still speak;<br>There the mounting fumes inspire<br>Glowing brain and living lyre.<br>There the Muses prompt the strain,<br>There they renovate my reign;<br>There thou wilt not call in vain,<br>`Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!'''</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!

II
Where hast thou, Apollo, gone?
I have wandered on and on,
Through the shaggy Dorian gorges,
Down from where Parnassus forges
Thunder for the Phocian valleys;
Where the Pleistus springs and sallies
Past ravines and cav..."></div>
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