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An Hour Among the Poets

from Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856) by John Collie (1834-1893)

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And thus the sire began “ What kind of knowledge doest thou seek ? Come tell me , oh , my son . Doest thou wish to see the heroes great Who have long from the world been gone ? Would'st thou wish to hear each chief relate The deeds which he has done ? Or would'st thou thy knowledge rather acquire From the aged sons of the harp and lyre ? "

I said “ ' twere a noble sight to see The mighty men of old , Who bled that their countries might be free From the tyrants ' fatal hold , Yet I'd deem it a nobler sight by far To behold the sons of the harp and lyre . ”

Yet I'd deem it a nobler sight by far To behold the sons of the harp and lyre . ” a drew near , He waved his golden wand on high And a band of the sons of song drew nigh ; The first that pass'ed had a Grecian lyre , And he breathed on its strings his soul of fire , He spoke of the great Achilles ' fame , And I heard him lisp Ulysses ' name , And he vanished from my sight . Then Ossian , son of Scottish song , With a firm step next pass'd along , And he sung of Fingal's might . Another son of song And he held in his hand a Roman lyre , And he sung of Roman fame He spoke of Æneas ' flight from Troy , And he sung of the heaven - protected Boy , But he vanished , and Orpheus came And pass'd , for the crowd came thicker on , With sounds and songs to me unknown With harps and lyres of ancient mould Too great and many to be told , Or e'en for pen to name . As on they press'd I clearly heard The voice of the famed Baotian Bard , Great Pindar , son of fame . Thespis , prince of the Tragic Muse , Ovid and Horace of deathless lays , And Sappho , the queen of song , In pleasing concord press'd along ; And yet the crowd grew thicker still As mist which gathers on the hill , As clouds which roll athwart the sky , The mighty host pass'd slowly by , With varied sounds , harsh , soft , and clear , Which charmed my keen enquiring ear . At last I thought they all were gone , When , lo ! another host came on With harps and lyres of British make , And I gloried for Britannia's sake , To think that such a mighty host Should sally from the rugged coast . The mighty Milton first me pass't , Immortal Shakspeare followed fast ; Before me lofty Chaucer stood Like some gigantic sculptured God ; Fletcher , Beaumont , and mighty Ben , Came hand in hand with Hawthornden . Next , in russet garb , appeared Immortal Burns - old Scotia's Bard A cloak was o'er his shoulders flung , A trumpet from his waist was slung ; From ' neath his robes a harp he took , He touched its chords , my spirit shook , He sung of Scotia's plains and fells , Her heathy knowes and classic vales , Her misty mountains blue . The roaming spirits of the sky Seemed charmed with minstrelsy , And still he louder blew . Some mighty helpmate from above Seemed to the minstrel given His big soul melted into love While he sung to “ Mary in Heaven ; " But he pass'ed away , and immortal Pope , And Campbell , the mighty prince of hope , Came closely up behind . Great Byron , with his British lyre , And Cowley , with Pindaric fire , And Harry , the minstrel blind . The lofty Dryden , prince of song , , With a golden lyre next pass'd along , And thoughtful Young drew near , And'when he spoke of the awful day When man again would resume his clay , It seemed his soul to cheer . Next Goldsmith , Addison , and Gay , The witty Swift , the gloomy Grey , Kirke White the sage and young All hurried on with rapid haste , As if by some opponent prest , With instruments unstrung . And straight methought before me stood The mighty Shelley in a cloud , And his strain seemed deep and wild ; He charmed my heart , for I felt the power Of this mighty monarch of the lyre , And I deemed him nature's child . Next Scotia's border minstrel eame , And Chatterton of youthful fame ; Cowper the noble bard pass'd by , While Pollock on time's wings did fly , Next Ramsay with his lovers gay , And Thomson with his flowery May ame slowly me before ; While Nicoll , the son of song , drew near , Who saw his Maker everywhere , On mountain , tree , and flower . Next came a bard of brighter days , By his looks I could discern Oh , heavens ! ' twas the prince of the Ury lays , And he sung “ The Mitherless Bairn . " My bosom heaved at his touching strain , I tried to weep , but tried in vain . Enough I cried , I can bear no more , For tones like these make the bosom sore ,

And quick as the lightning in its flight All disappeared from my sight . My guide with his silvery hairs was gone , And I stood , or thought I stood , alone .

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from Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856), released May 24, 2022

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fiffdimension Featherston, New Zealand

Outsider music from Aotearoa NZ and beyond, by Dave Edwards and collaborators (from 1856 to 2024).

Spans acoustic & electric noise, rock, folk, spoken word, postpunk, free jazz, gamelan, lo fi, electronica, & ethnomusicology.

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