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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Verse  »  752. Philomela

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

Matthew Arnold. 1822–1888

752. Philomela

HARK! ah, the Nightingale! 
The tawny-throated! 
Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst! 
What triumph! hark—what pain! 
 
O Wanderer from a Grecian shore,         5
Still, after many years, in distant lands, 
Still nourishing in thy bewilder’d brain 
That wild, unquench’d, deep-sunken, old-world pain— 
  Say, will it never heal? 
And can this fragrant lawn  10
With its cool trees, and night, 
And the sweet, tranquil Thames, 
And moonshine, and the dew, 
To thy rack’d heart and brain 
  Afford no balm?  15
 
  Dost thou to-night behold 
Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, 
The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild? 
  Dost thou again peruse 
With hot cheeks and sear’d eyes  20
The too clear web, and thy dumb Sister’s shame? 
  Dost thou once more assay 
Thy flight, and feel come over thee, 
Poor Fugitive, the feathery change 
Once more, and once more seem to make resound  25
With love and hate, triumph and agony, 
Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale? 
    Listen, Eugenia— 
How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! 
  Again—thou hearest!  30
Eternal Passion! 
Eternal Pain!