Ode+to+Apollo

[|Ode]to [|Apollo]
1 In thy Western Halls of gold When thou sittest in thy state, [|Bards], that erst [|sublimely] told Heroic deeds, and sung of Fate, With fervour seize their [|adamantine] [|lyres,] Whose chords are solid rays, and twinkle radiant fires.

2 There [|Homer] with his nervous arms Strikes the twanging harp of war, And even the Western splendour warms While the trumpets sound afar: But, what creates the most intense surprize, His soul looks out through renovated eyes.

3 Then, through thy Temple wide, melodious swells The sweet majestic tone of [|Maro's] lyre; The soul delighted on each accent dwells, - Enraptured dwells, - not daring to respire, The while he tells of grief, around a [|funeral pyre].

4 'Tis awful silence then again: Expectant stand the spheres; Breathless the laurel'd peers; Nor move, till ends the lofty strain, Nor move till [|Milton's] tuneful thunders cease, And leave once more the ravish'd heavens in peace.

5 Thou biddest Shakspeare wave his hand, And quickly forward spring The Passions - a terrific band - And each vibrates the string That with its tyrant temper best accords, While from their Master's lips pour forth the inspiring words.

6 A silver trumpet [|Spenser] blows, And as its martial notes to silence flee, From a virgin Chorus flows A hymn in praise of spotless Chastity. 'Tis still! - Wild warblings from the Æolian lyre Enchantment softly breathe, and tremblingly expire.

7 Next, thy [|Tasso's] ardent Numbers Float along the pleased air, Calling Youth from idle Slumbers, Rousing them from pleasure's lair: - Then o'er the strings his fingers gently move, And melt the soul to pity and to love.

8 But when //Thou// joinest with the [|Nine], And all the powers of song combine, We listen here on earth: The dying tones that fill the air, And charm the ear of Evening fair, From thee, great God of Bards, receive their heavenly birth.

Behind the poem
The stories/poems mentioned by Keats.

Developing an interpretation
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