Free Bird

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  “. . . A light broke in upon my brain,—  It was the carol of a bird;  It ceased, and then it came again,  The sweetest song ear ever heard,  And mine was thankful till my eyes  Ran over with the glad surprise,  And they that moment could not see  I was the mate of misery.  But then by dull degrees came back  My senses to their wonted track;  I saw the dungeon walls and floor  Close slowly round me as before,  I saw the glimmer of the sun  Creeping as it before had done,  But through the crevice where it came  That bird was perched, as fond and tame,  And tamer than upon the tree;  A lovely bird, with azure wings,  And song that said a thousand things,  And seemed to say them all for me!  I never saw its like before,  I ne’er shall see its likeness more;  It seemed like me to want a mate,  But was not half so desolate,  And it was come to love me when  None ...

Cyclops Blacksmith

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 “Sacred to Vulcan’s name, an isle there lay,

Betwixt Sicilia’s coasts and Lipare, 

Rais’d high on smoking rocks; and, deep below,

In hollow caves the fires of Ætna glow. 

The Cyclops here their heavy hammers deal; 

Loud strokes, and hissings of tormented steel, 

Are heard around; the boiling waters roar,

And smoky flames thro’ fuming tunnels soar.”


—Vergil (70 B.C.–19 B.C.).  Æneid.




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