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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341999" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation of the Christian</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vicisti, Galil&aelig;e<br> I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;<br> Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.<br> Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;<br> For these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.<br> Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove;<br> But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes or love.<br> Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harpstring of gold,<br> A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God to behold?<br> I am sick of singing; the bays burn deep and chafe: I am fain<br> To rest a little from praise and grievous pleasure and pain.<br> For the Gods we know not of, who give us our daily breath,<br> We know they are cruel as love or life, and lovely as death.<br> O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day!<br> From your wrath is the world released, redeemed from your chains, men say.<br> New Gods are crowned in the city; their flowers have broken your rods;<br> They are merciful, clothed with pity, the young compassionate Gods.<br> But for me their new device is barren, the days are bare;<br> Things long past over suffice, and men forgotten that were.<br> Time and the Gods are at strife; ye dwell in the midst thereof,<br> Draining a little life from the barren breasts of love.<br> I say to you, cease, take rest; yea, I say to you all, be at peace,<br> Till the bitter milk of her breast and the barren bosom shall cease.<br> Wilt thou take all, Galilean? but these thou shalt not take,<br> The laurel, the palms and the paean, the breasts of the nymphs in the brake;<br> Breasts more soft than a dove's, that tremble with tenderer breath;<br> And all the wings of the Loves, and all the joy before death;<br> All the feet of the hours that sound as a single lyre,<br> Dropped and deep in the flowers, with strings that flicker like fire.<br> More than these wilt thou give, things fairer than all these things?<br> Nay, for a little we live, and life hath mutable wings.<br> A little while and we die; shall life not thrive as it may?<br> For no man under the sky lives twice, outliving his day.<br> And grief is a grievous thing, and a man hath enough of his tears:<br> Why should he labour, and bring fresh grief to blacken his years?<br> Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath;<br> We have drunken of things Lethean, and fed on the fullness of death.<br> Laurel is green for a season, and love is sweet for a day;<br> But love grows bitter with treason, and laurel outlives not May.<br> Sleep, shall we sleep after all? for the world is not sweet in the end;<br> For the old faiths loosen and fall, the new years ruin and rend.<br> Fate is a sea without shore, and the soul is a rock that abides;<br> But her ears are vexed with the roar and her face with the foam of the tides.<br> O lips that the live blood faints in, the leavings of racks and rods!<br> O ghastly glories of saints, dead limbs of gibbeted Gods!<br> Though all men abase them before you in spirit, and all knees bend,<br> I kneel not neither adore you, but standing, look to the end.<br> All delicate days and pleasant, all spirits and sorrows are cast<br> Far out with the foam of the present that sweeps to the surf of the past:<br> Where beyond the extreme sea-wall, and between the remote sea-gates,<br> Waste water washes, and tall ships founder, and deep death waits:<br> Where, mighty with deepening sides, clad about with the seas as with wings,<br> And impelled of invisible tides, and fulfilled of unspeakable things,<br> White-eyed and poisonous-finned, shark-toothed and serpentine-curled,<br> Rolls, under the whitening wind of the future, the wave of the world.<br> The depths stand naked in sunder behind it, the storms flee away;<br> In the hollow before it the thunder is taken and snared as a prey;<br> In its sides is the north-wind bound; and its salt is of all men's tears;<br> With light of ruin, and sound of changes, and pulse of years:<br> With travail of day after day, and with trouble of hour upon hour;<br> And bitter as blood is the spray; and the crests are as fangs that devour:<br> And its vapour and storm of its steam as the sighing of spirits to be;<br> And its noise as the noise in a dream; and its depth as the roots of the sea:<br> And the height of its heads as the height of the utmost stars of the air:<br> And the ends of the earth at the might thereof tremble, and time is made bare.<br> Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods?<br> Will ye take her to chain her with chains, who is older than all ye Gods?<br> All ye as a wind shall go by, as a fire shall ye pass and be past;<br> Ye are Gods, and behold, ye shall die, and the waves be upon you at last.<br> In the darkness of time, in the deeps of the years, in the changes of things,<br> Ye shall sleep as a slain man sleeps, and the world shall forget you for kings.<br> Though the feet of thine high priests tread where thy lords and our forefathers trod,<br> Though these that were Gods are dead, and thou being dead art a God,<br> Though before thee the throned Cytherean be fallen, and hidden her head,<br> Yet thy kingdom shall pass, Galilean, thy dead shall go down to thee dead.<br> Of the maiden thy mother men sing as a goddess with grace clad around;<br> Thou art throned where another was king; where another was queen she is crowned.<br> Yea, once we had sight of another: but now she is queen, say these.<br> Not as thine, not as thine was our mother, a blossom of flowering seas,<br> Clothed round with the world's desire as with raiment, and fair as the foam,<br> And fleeter than kindled fire, and a goddess, and mother of Rome.<br> For thine came pale and a maiden, and sister to sorrow; but ours,<br> Her deep hair heavily laden with odour and colour of flowers,<br> White rose of the rose-white water, a silver splendour, a flame,<br> Bent down unto us that besought her, and earth grew sweet with her name.<br> For thine came weeping, a slave among slaves, and rejected; but she<br> Came flushed from the full-flushed wave, and imperial, her foot on the sea.<br> And the wonderful waters knew her, the winds and the viewless ways,<br> And the roses grew rosier, and bluer the sea-blue stream of the bays.<br> Ye are fallen, our lords, by what token? we wise that ye should not fall.<br> Ye were all so fair that are broken; and one more fair than ye all.<br> But I turn to her still, having seen she shall surely abide in the end;<br> Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.<br> O daughter of earth, of my mother, her crown and blossom of birth,<br> I am also, I also, thy brother; I go as I came unto earth.<br> In the night where thine eyes are as moons are in heaven, the night where thou art, <br> Where the silence is more than all tunes, where sleep overflows from the heart,<br> Where the poppies are sweet as the rose in our world, and the red rose is white,<br> And the wind falls faint as it blows with the fume of the flowers of the night,<br> And the murmur of spirits that sleep in the shadow of Gods from afar<br> Grows dim in thine ears and deep as the deep dim soul of a star,<br> In the sweet low light of thy face, under heavens untrod by the sun,<br> Let my soul with their souls find place, and forget what is done and undone.<br> Thou art more than the Gods who number the days of our temporal breath;<br> Let these give labour and slumber; but thou, Proserpina, death.<br> Therefore now at thy feet I abide for a season in silence. I know<br> I shall die as my fathers died, and sleep as they sleep, even so.<br> For the glass of the years is brittle wherein we gaze for a span;<br> A little soul for a little bears up this corpse which is man.<br> So long I endure, no longer; and laugh not again, neither weep.<br> For there is no God found stronger than death; and death is a sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Algernon+Charles+Swinburne">Algernon Charles Swinburne</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341999" data-title="Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation of the Christian de Algernon Charles Swinburne" data-description="Vicisti, Galil&aelig;e
 I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end;
 Goddess and maiden and queen, be near me now and befriend.
 Thou art more than the day or the morrow, the seasons that laugh or that weep;
 For these ..."></div>
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