Selected verse / Algernon Charles Swinburne
| dc.contributor | Benson, James D. Glendon College York University Toronto |
| dc.contributor.author | Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 1837-1909 |
| dc.coverage.placeName | Boston [MS] |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2018-07-27 |
| dc.date.accessioned | 2022-08-19T14:37:31Z |
| dc.date.available | 2022-08-19T14:37:31Z |
| dc.date.created | 1855-1909 |
| dc.date.issued | 1988-07-18 |
| dc.identifier | ota:1243 |
| dc.identifier.uri | http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.14106/1243 |
| dc.description.abstract | Contents: The triumph of time -- Hertha -- The Garden of Proserpine -- Ave atque vale -- Itylus -- Nephilidia |
| dc.format.extent | Text data (1 file : ca. 99 KB) |
| dc.format.medium | Digital bitstream |
| dc.language | English |
| dc.language.iso | eng |
| dc.publisher | University of Oxford |
| dc.relation.ispartof | Oxford Text Archive Core Collection |
| dc.rights | Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. |
| dc.rights.uri | http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ |
| dc.rights.label | PUB |
| dc.subject.lcsh | English poetry -- 19th century |
| dc.subject.other | Poems |
| dc.title | Selected verse / Algernon Charles Swinburne |
| dc.type | Text |
| has.files | yes |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| branding | Oxford Text Archive |
| files.size | 101278 |
| files.count | 1 |
| identifier.ee | Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 1837-1909 http://dx.doi.org/10.13051/ee:bio/swinbalger027993 |
| identifier.ee | Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 1837-1909 http://dx.doi.org/10.13051/ee:bio/swinbalger027993 |
| identifier.lccn | Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 1837-1909 http://id.loc.gov/authorities/names/n79047585 |
| identifier.lccn | Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 1837-1909 http://id.loc.gov/authorities/names/n79047585 |
| otaterms.date.range | 1800-1899 |
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Hymn to Proserpine
(After the Proclamation in Rome of the Christian Faith)
Vicisti, Galilaee
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;
these give joy and sorrow; but thou, Proserpina, sleep.
Sweet is the treading of wine, and sweet the feet of the dove;
But a goodlier gift is thine than foam of the grapes of love.
Yea, is not even Apollo, with hair and harp-string of gold,
A bitter God to follow, a beautiful God to behold?
I am sick of singing: the bays burn deep and chafe: I am fain
To rest a little from praise and grievous pleasure and pain.
For the Gods we know not of, who give us our daily breath,
We know they are cruel as love or life, and lovely as death.
O Gods dethroned and deceased, cast forth, wiped out in a day!
From your wrath is the world released, redeemed from your ch . . .
