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The Lion of Chaeronea

@lionofchaeronea / lionofchaeronea.tumblr.com

A blog dedicated to classical antiquity, poetry, and the visual arts. All translations of Greek and Latin are my own unless otherwise noted.
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"Long Barren" -- Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

Thou who didst hang upon a barren tree, My God, for me; Tho' I till now be barren, now at length, Lord, give me strength To bring forth fruit to Thee. Thou who didst bear for me the crown of thorn, Spitting and scorn; Tho' I till now have put forth thorns, yet now Strengthen me Thou That better fruit be borne. Thou Rose of Sharon, Cedar of broad roots, Vine of sweet fruits, Thou Lily of the vale with fadeless leaf, Of thousands Chief, Feed Thou my feeble shoots.

The Meditation on the Passion, Vittore Carpaccio, ca. 1490

#Christina Rossetti#poem#poetry#lyric poem#lyric poetry#devotional poetry#Christian poetry#religious poetry#English literature#English poetry#British literature#British poetry#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Victoriana#Vittore Carpaccio
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"Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel" (from "Idylls of the King: The Marriage of Geraint"), Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel, and lower the proud; Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown; With that wild wheel we go not up nor down; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands; For man is man and master of his fate. Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd; Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate.

Allegory of Fortune, Salvator Rosa, ca. 1658-59

#poem#poetry#Tennyson#Alfred Lord Tennyson#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Idylls of the King#Salvator Rosa
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“Spring” - Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

Nothing is so beautiful as spring—  When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;  Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;  The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush  The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. What is all this juice and all this joy?  A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,  Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning, Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,  Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Early Spring, Ernest Lawson, 1918

#poem#poetry#Gerard Manley Hopkins#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#religious poem#religious poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Ernest Lawson
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“The Splendor Falls” - Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

The splendor falls on castle walls    And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes,    And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear,    And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar    The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

O love, they die in yon rich sky,    They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul,    And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.

Alnwick Castle, J.M.W. Turner, ca. 1829

#poem#poetry#Tennyson#Alfred Lord Tennyson#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#JMW Turner#Joseph Mallord William Turner
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“Moonrise” - Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle, Or paring of paradisaïcal fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless, Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain; A cusp still clasped him, a fluke yet fanged him, entangled him, not quit utterly. This was the prized, the desirable sight, unsought, presented so easily, Parted me leaf and leaf, divided me, eyelid and eyelid of slumber.

Evening Scene with Full Moon and Persons, Abraham Pether, 1801

#poem#poetry#Gerard Manley Hopkins#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Abraham Pether
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“The Starlight Night” - Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies!   O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!   The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there! Down in dim woods the diamond delves! the elves'-eyes! The grey lawns cold where gold, where quickgold lies!   Wind-beat whitebeam! airy abeles set on a flare!   Flake-doves sent floating forth at a farmyard scare! Ah well! it is all a purchase, all is a prize. Buy then! bid then! — What? — Prayer, patience, alms, vows. Look, look: a May-mess, like on orchard boughs!   Look! March-bloom, like on mealed-with-yellow sallows! These are indeed the barn; withindoors house The shocks. This piece-bright paling shuts the spouse   Christ home, Christ and his mother and all his hallows.

Landscape with Stars, Henri-Edmond Cross, ca. 1905-08

#poem#poetry#Gerard Manley Hopkins#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#devotional poem#devotional poetry#Christian poem#Christian poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Henri-Edmond Cross
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“Symphony in Yellow” - Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)

An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly, And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter from the Temple elms, And at my feet the pale green Thames Lies like a rod of rippled jade.

The Thames at Westminster, Claude Monet, 1871

#poem#poetry#Oscar Wilde#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#Irish literature#Irish poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Monet#Claude Monet
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“Art” - James Thomson (1834-1882)

What precious thing are you making fast In all these silken lines? And where and to whom will it go at last? Such subtle knots and twines! I am tying up all my love in this, With all its hopes and fears, With all its anguish and its bliss, And its hours as heavy as years. I am going to send it afar, afar, To I know not where above; To that sphere beyond the highest star Where dwells the soul of my Love. But in vain, in vain, would I make it fast With countless subtle twines: For ever its fire breaks out at last, And shrivels all the lines.

The Evening Star, Edward Burne-Jones, 1870

#poem#poetry#James Thomson#lyric poem#lyric poetry#love poem#love poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Edward Burne-Jones#Sir Edward Burne-Jones
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“Sonnets from the Portuguese” XXXV (”If I leave all for thee”) - Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange And be all to me? Shall I never miss Home-talk and blessing and the common kiss That comes to each in turn, nor count it strange, When I look up, to drop on a new range Of walls and floors ... another home than this? Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change? That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried, To conquer grief, tries more ... as all things prove; For grief indeed is love and grief beside. Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me—wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove.

The Wounded Dove, Rebecca Solomon, 1866

#poem#poetry#Elizabeth Barrett Browning#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#love poem#love poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Rebecca Solomon#tw animal injury
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“Parting at Morning” - Robert Browning (1812-1889)

Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's rim: And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me. 

Morning, Edvard Munch, 1884

#poem#poetry#Browning#Robert Browning#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Edvard Munch
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“Child’s Song” - Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909)

What is gold worth, say, Worth for work or play, Worth to keep or pay, Hide or throw away,     Hope about or fear?          What is love worth, pray?     Worth a tear? Golden on the mould Lie the dead leaves roll’d Of the wet woods old,          Yellow leaves and cold,     Woods without a dove; Gold is worth but gold;     Love ’s worth love.

Autumn Leaves, Ellen Robbins, 1870

#poem#poetry#Swinburne#Algernon Charles Swinburne#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Pre-Raphaelite#Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood#Ellen Robbins
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“Flower in the Crannied Wall” - Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower—but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.

Lotus Flowers with a Landscape Painting in the Background, Martin Johnson Heade, between 1885 and 1900

#poem#poetry#Tennyson#Alfred Lord Tennyson#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Martin Johnson Heade
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“Spring” - Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –           When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;       Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush         Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring         The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;   The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush          The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush        With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.        

What is all this juice and all this joy?           A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning In Eden garden. – Have, get, before it cloy,           Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,         Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,           Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Early Spring - Bluebonnets and Mesquite, Julian Onderdonk, 1919

#poem#poetry#Gerard Manley Hopkins#sonnet#lyric poem#lyric poetry#religious poem#religious poetry#Christian poem#Christian poetry#devotional poem#devotional poetry#British literature#English literature#British poetry#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Victorian period#Julian Onderdonk
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“Break, Break, Break” - Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Break, break, break,         On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter         The thoughts that arise in me. O, well for the fisherman's boy,         That he shouts with his sister at play! O, well for the sailor lad,         That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on         To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,         And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break         At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead         Will never come back to me.

The North Sea in Stormy Weather. After Sunset. Højen, Laurits Tuxen, 1909  

#poem#poetry#Tennyson#Alfred Lord Tennyson#elegy#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian literature#Victorian poetry#Laurits Tuxen
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“God’s Grandeur” - Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.    It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;    It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;    And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;    And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod. And for all this, nature is never spent;    There lives the dearest freshness deep down things; And though the last lights off the black West went    Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs — Because the Holy Ghost over the bent    World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

God the Father with Four Angels and the Dove of the Holy Spirit, Giovanni Francesco da Rimini, ca. 1460

#poem#poetry#Gerard Manley Hopkins#sonnet#devotional poem#devotional poetry#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian poetry#Giovanni Francesco da Rimini
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“Loveliest of Trees, the Cherry Now” (no. 2 from “A Shropshire Lad”) - A.E. Housman (1859-1936)

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now Is hung with bloom along the bough, And stands about the woodland ride Wearing white for Eastertide. Now, of my threescore years and ten, Twenty will not come again, And take from seventy springs a score, It only leaves me fifty more. And since to look at things in bloom Fifty springs are little room, About the woodlands I will go To see the cherry hung with snow.

Cherries in a Basket, Levi Wells Prentice, 1890s

#poem#poetry#A.E. Housman#A Shropshire Lad#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian poetry#Levi Wells Prentice
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“Invictus” - W.E. Henley (1849-1903)

Out of the night that covers me,      Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be      For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance      I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance      My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears      Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years      Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate,      How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate,      I am the captain of my soul.

The Human Soul (Towards a Better World), Luis Ricardo Falero, 1894

#poem#poetry#W.E. Henley#lyric poem#lyric poetry#British literature#British poetry#English literature#English poetry#19th century literature#19th century poetry#Victorian period#Victorian poetry#Luis Ricardo Falero
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