Thus in altemate uproar and sad peace , Amazed were those Titans utterly . O leave them , Muse ! O leave them to their woes ; For thou art weak to sing such tumults dire : A solitary sorrow best befitsThy lips , and antheming a lonely grief . Leave them , O Muse ! for thou anon wilt findMany a fallen old DivinityWandering in vain about bewildered shores . Meantime touch piously the Delphic harp , And not a wind of heaven but will breatheIn aid soft warble from the Dorian flute ; For lo ! ' tis for the Father of all verse . Flush everything that hath a vermeil hue , Let the rose glow intense and warm the air , And let the clouds of even and of mornFloat in voluptuous fleeces o ' er the hills ; Let the red wine within the goblet boil , Cold as a bubbling well ; let faint - lipp ' d shells , On sands , or in great deeps , vermilion turnThrough all their labyrinths ; and let the maidBlush keenly , as with some warm kiss surpris ' d . Chief isle of the embowered Cyclades , Rejoice , O Delos , with thine olives green , And poplars , and lawn - shading palms , and beech , In which the Zephyr breathes the loudest song , And hazels thick , dark - stemm ' d beneath the shade : Apollo is once more the golden theme ! Where was he , when the Giant of the sunStood bright , amid the sorrow of his peers ? Together had he left his mother fairAnd his twin - sister sleeping in their bower , And in the morning twilight wandered forthBeside the osiers of a rivulet , Full ankle - deep in lilies of the vale . The nightingale had ceas ' d , and a few starsWere lingering in the heavens , while the thrushBegan calm - throated . Throughout all the isleThere was no covert , no retired cave , Unhaunted by the murmurous noise of waves , Though scarcely heard in many a green recess . He listen ' d , and he wept , and his bright tearsWent trickling down the golden bow he held . Thus with half - shut suffused eyes he stood , While from beneath some cumbrous boughs hard byWith solemn step an awful Goddess came , And there was purport in her looks for him , Which he with eager guess began to readPerplex ' d , the while melodiously he said : " How cam ' st thou over the unfooted sea ? Or hath that antique mien and robed formMov ' d in these vales invisible till now ? Sure I have heard those vestments sweeping o ' erThe fallen leaves , when I have sat aloneIn cool mid - forest . Surely I have tracedThe rustle of those ample skirts aboutThese grassy solitudes , and seen the flowersLift up their heads , as still the whisper pass ' d . Goddess ! I have beheld those eyes before , And their eternal calm , and all that face , Or I have dream ' d . "---" Yes , " said the supreme shape , " Thou hast dream ' d of me ; and awaking upDidst find a lyre all golden by thy side , Whose strings touch ' d by thy fingers , all the vastUnwearied ear of the whole universeListen ' d in pain and pleasure at the birthOf such new tuneful wonder . Is ' t not strangeThat thou shouldst weep , so gifted ? Tell me , youth , What sorrow thou canst feel ; for I am sadWhen thou dost shed a tear : explain thy griefsTo one who in this lonely isle hath beenThe watcher of thy sleep and hours of life , From the young day when first thy infant handPluck ' d witless the weak flowers , till thine armCould bend that bow heroic to all times . Show thy heart ' s secret to an ancient PowerWho hath forsaken old and sacred thronesFor prophecies of thee , and for the sakeOf loveliness new born . "--- Apollo then , With sudden scrutiny and gloomless eyes , Thus answer ' d , while his white melodious throatThrobb ' d with the syllables . ---" Mnemosyne ! Thy name is on my tongue , I know not how ; Why should I tell thee what thou so well seest ? Why should I strive to show what from thy lipsWould come no mystery ? For me , dark , dark , And painful vile oblivion seals my eyes : I strive to search wherefore I am so sad , Until a melancholy numbs my limbs ; And then upon the grass I sit , and moan , Like one who once had wings . --- O why should IFeel curs ' d and thwarted , when the liegeless airYields to my step aspirant ? why should ISpurn the green turf as hateful to my feet ? Goddess benign , point forth some unknown thing : Are there not other regions than this isle ? What are the stars ? There is the sun , the sun ! And the most patient brilliance of the moon ! And stars by thousands ! Point me out the wayTo any one particular beauteous star , And I will flit into it with my lyre , And make its silvery splendor pant with bliss . I have heard the cloudy thunder : Where is power ? Whose hand , whose essence , what divinityMakes this alarum in the elements , While I here idle listen on the shoresIn fearless yet in aching ignorance ? O tell me , lonely Goddess , by thy harp , That waileth every morn and eventide , Tell me why thus I rave about these groves ! Mute thou remainest --- Mute ! yet I can readA wondrous lesson in thy silent face : Knowledge enormous makes a God of me . Names , deeds , gray legends , dire events , rebellions , Majesties , sovran voices , agonies , Creations and destroyings , all at oncePour into the wide hollows of my brain , And deify me , as if some blithe wineOr bright elixir peerless I had drunk , And so become immortal . "--- Thus the God , While his enkindled eyes , with level glanceBeneath his white soft temples , steadfast keptTrembling with light upon Mnemosyne . Soon wild commotions shook him , and made flushAll the immortal fairness of his limbs ; Most like the struggle at the gate of death ; Or liker still to one who should take leaveOf pale immortal death , and with a pangAs hot as death ' s is chill , with fierce convulseDie into life : so young Apollo anguish ' d : His very hair , his golden tresses famed , Kept undulation round his eager neck . During the pain Mnemosyne upheldHer arms as one who prophesied . At lengthApollo shriek ' d ;--- and lo ! from all his limbsCelestial . -- John Keats