Home ⇒ 📌Mary Darby Robinson ⇒ Sonnet XLIV: Here Droops the Muse
Sonnet XLIV: Here Droops the Muse
Here droops the muse! while from her glowing mind,
Celestial Sympathy, with humid eye,
Bids the light Sylph capricious Fancy fly,
Time’s restless wings with transient flowr’s to bind!
For now, with folded arms and head inclin’d,
Reflection pours the deep and frequent sigh,
O’er the dark scroll of human destiny,
Where gaudy buds and wounding thorns are twin’d.
O! Sky-born VIRTUE! sacred is thy name!
And though mysterious Fate, with frown severe,
Oft decorates thy brows with wreaths of Fame,
Bespangled o’er with sorrow’s chilling tear!
Yet shalt thou more than mortal raptures claim,
The brightest planet of th’ ETERNAL SPHERE!
(2 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song, Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem In gentle numbers time so idly spent; Sing to the ear that doth thy […]...
- While History's Muse While History’s Muse the memorial was keeping Of all that the dark hand of Destiny weaves, Beside her the Genius of Erin stood weeping, For hers was the story that blotted the leaves. But oh! how the tear in her eyelids grew bright, When, after whole pages of sorrow and shame, She saw History write, […]...
- Sonnet XLIV: Whilst Thus My Pen Whilst thus my pen strives to eternize thee, Age rules my lines with wrinkles in my face, Where in the map of all my misery Is modell’d out the world of my disgrace. Whilst, in despite of tyrannizing times, Medea-like, I make thee young again, Proudly thou scorn’st my world-outwearing rhymes And murtherest virtue with […]...
- Sonnet 38: How can my Muse want subject to invent How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse Thine own sweet argument, too excellent For every vulgar paper to rehearse? O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me Worthy perusal stand against thy sight, For who’s so dumb that cannot write to thee, When thou […]...
- Sonnet 101: O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? Both truth and beauty on my love depends; So dost thou too, and therein dignified. Make answer, Muse. Wilt thou not haply say, “Truth needs no colour with his colour fixed, Beauty no pencil, beauty’s truth to lay, But […]...
- Sonnet 82: I grant thou wert not married to my Muse I grant thou wert not married to my Muse, And therefore mayst without attaint o’erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book. Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforced to seek anew Some fresher stamp […]...
- Sonnet 78: So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse, And found such fair assistance in my verse As every alien pen hath got my use, And under thee their poesy disperse. Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing, And heavy ignorance aloft to fly, Have added feathers to the learnèd’s wing And […]...
- Sonnet XLIV: Press'd by the Moon Press’d by the Moon, mute arbitress of tides, While the loud equinox its power combines, The sea no more its swelling surge confines, But o’er the shrinking land sublimely rides. The wild blast, rising from the Western cave, Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed; Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, And […]...
- Sonnet XXIII: To Aetna's Scorching Sands To AEtna’s scorching sands my Phaon flies! False Youth! can other charms attractive prove? Say, can Sicilian loves thy passions move, Play round thy heart, and fix thy fickle eyes, While in despair the Lesbian Sappho dies? Has Spring for thee a crown of poppies wove, Or dost thou languish in th’ Idalian grove, Whose […]...
- The Reply to Time O TIME, forgive the mournful song That on thy pinions stole along, When the rude hand of pain severe Chas’d down my cheek the burning tear; When sorrow chill’d each warm desire That kindles FANCY’S lambent fire; When HOPE, by fost’ring FRIENDSHIP rear’d, A phantom of the brain appear’d; Forgive the song, devoid of art, […]...
- Rome: The Vatican-Sala Delle Muse I sat in the Muses’ Hall at the mid of the day, And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away, And the chiselled shapes to combine in a haze of sun, Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One. She was nor this nor that of those beings divine, But […]...
- Holy Sonnet X: Death Be Not Proud Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which yet thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must low And soonest […]...
- Sonnet XI: O! Reason! O! Reason! vaunted Sovreign of the mind! Thou pompous vision with a sounding name! Can’st thou, the soul’s rebellious passions tame! Can’st thou in spells the vagrant fancy bind? Ah, no! capricious as the wav’ring wind, Are sighs of Love that dim thy boasted flame, While Folly’s torch consumes the wreath of fame, And Pleasure’s […]...
- Sonnet XLIX Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Call’d to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass And scarcely greet me with that sun thine eye, When love, converted from the […]...
- Ode to the Muse O, let me seize thy pen sublime That paints, in melting dulcet rhyme, The glowing pow’r, the magic art, Th’ extatic raptures of the Heart; Soft Beauty’s timid smile serene, The dimples of Love’s sportive mien; The sweet descriptive tale to trace; To picture Nature’s winning grace; To steal the tear from Pity’s eye; To […]...
- Sonnet LXXXVIII When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults conceal’d, wherein I am […]...
- The Paradox I am the mother of sorrows, I am the ender of grief; I am the bud and the blossom, I am the late-falling leaf. I am thy priest and thy poet, I am thy serf and thy king; I cure the tears of the heartsick, When I come near they shall sing. White are my […]...
- Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With mine own weakness being best acquainted, Upon thy part I can set down a story Of faults concealed, wherein I am […]...
- To the Muse of Poetry EXULT MY MUSE! exult to see Each envious, waspish, jealous thing, Around its harmless venom fling, And dart its powerless fangs at THEE! Ne’er shalt THOU bend thy radiant wing, To sweep the dark revengeful string; Or meanly stoop, to steal a ray, E’en from RINALDO’S glorious lay, Tho’ his transcendent Verse should twine About […]...
- Sonnet 21: So is it not with me as with that muse So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven it self for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems, With April’s first-born flowers, and […]...
- Farewell To The Muse Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy’s days, Young offspring of Fancy, ’tis time we should part; Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays, The coldest effusion which springs from my heart. This bosom, responsive to rapture no more, Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing; The […]...
- Modern Love XLIV: They Say That Pity They say, that Pity in Love’s service dwells, A porter at the rosy temple’s gate. I missed him going: but it is my fate To come upon him now beside his wells; Whereby I know that I Love’s temple leave, And that the purple doors have closed behind. Poor soul! if in those early days […]...
- Sonnet 103: Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument all bare is of more worth Than when it hath my added praise beside. O, blame me not if I no more can write! Look in your glass, and there appears a face That overgoes my blunt […]...
- Sonnet 49: Against that time, if ever that time come Against that time, if ever that time come, When I shall see thee frown on my defects, When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, Called to that audit by advised respects; Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, When love, converted from the […]...
- Sonnet LV: My Fair, If Thou Wilt My Fair, if thou wilt register my love, A world of volumes shall thereof arise; Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes. Note by my sighs, and thine eyes shall behold The sunbeams smother’d with immortal smoke; And if by thee my prayers may be enroll’d, They […]...
- The look of thee, what is it like The look of thee, what is it like Hast thou a hand or Foot Or Mansion of Identity And what is thy Pursuit? Thy fellows are they realms or Themes Hast thou Delight or Fear Or Longing and is that for us Or values more severe? Let change transfuse all other Traits Enact all other […]...
- Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, While comments of your praise, richly compiled, Reserve their character with golden quill, And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words, And like unlettered clerk still cry “Amen” To every hymn that able spirit affords In polished form […]...
- On Anothers Sorrow Can I see anothers woe, And not be in sorrow too? Can I see anothers grief, And not seek for kind relief. Can I see a falling tear. And not feel my sorrows share, Can a father see his child, Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d. Can a mother sit and hear. An infant groan […]...
- TO HIS MUSE Whither, mad maiden, wilt thou roam? Far safer ’twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping, please The poor and private cottages. Since cotes and hamlets best agree With this thy meaner minstrelsy. There with the reed thou mayst express The shepherd’s fleecy happiness; And with thy Eclogues intermix: Some smooth and […]...
- Though Deep Indifference Should Drowse THOUGH deep indifference should drowse The sluggish life beneath my brows, And all the external things I see Grow snow-showers in the street to me, Yet inmost in my stormy sense Thy looks shall be an influence. Though other loves may come and go And long years sever us below, Shall the thin ice that […]...
- To My Inconstant Mistress When thou, poor excommunicate From all the joys of love, shalt see The full reward and glorious fate Which my strong faith shall purchase me, Then curse thine own inconstancy. A fairer hand than thine shall cure That heart which thy false oaths did wound; And to my soul a soul more pure Than thine […]...
- A Dialogue-Anthem Alas, poor Death! Where is thy glory? Where is thy famous force, thy ancient sting? Alas, poor mortal, void of story! Go spell and read how I have killed thy King. Poor Death! And who was hurt thereby? Thy curse being laid on Him makes thee accurst. Let losers talk, yet thou shalt die; These […]...
- Sonnet to Evening [Written under a tree in the woods of St. Amand, in Flanders.] SWEET BALMY HOUR! dear to the pensive mind, Oft have I watch’d thy dark and weeping shade, Oft have I hail’d thee in the dewy glade, And drop’d a tear of SYMPATHY refin’d. When humming bees, hid in their golden bow’rs, Sip the […]...
- Sonnet 13 XIII To Mr. H. Lawes, on his Aires. Harry whose tuneful and well measur’d Song First taught our English Musick how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas Ears, committing short and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for Envy to look […]...
- Sonnet XXXIV: Charm'd by Thy Suffrage Charm’d by thy suffrage, shall I yet aspire (All inauspicious as my fate appears, By troubles darken’d, that encrease with years,) To guide the crayon, or to touch the lyre? Ah me! – the sister Muses still require A spirit free from all intrusive fears, Nor will they deign to wipe away the tears Of […]...
- Sonnet CXLIX Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if thou lour’st […]...
- Sonnet XI As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest In one of thine, from that which thou departest; And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase: Without this, folly, age and cold decay: If all were minded so, the […]...
- Sonnet 149: Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not Canst thou, O cruel, say I love thee not, When I against my self with thee partake? Do I not think on thee when I forgot Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if […]...
- Sonnet 107: Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage; Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace […]...
- Thy Days Are Done Thy days are done, thy fame begun; Thy country’s strains record The triumphs of her chosen Son, The slaughter of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won, The freedom he restored! Though thou art fall’n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow’d from thee […]...