Songs Before Sunrise

This is a collection of some particularly beautiful poems of Algernon Charles Swinburne. This collection is connected by the Italian theme, as Swinburne was inspired to write most of them after learning of the Italian struggle for unification.


By : Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837 - 1909)

01 - Dedication to Joseph Mazzini



02 - Prelude



03 - The Eve of Revolution



04 - A watch in the Night



05 - Super Flumina Babylonis



06 - The halt before Rome



07 - Mentana - First Anniversary



08 - Blessed among Women



09 - The Litany of Nations



10 - Hertha



11 - Before a Crucifix



12 - Tenebrae



13 - Hymn of Man



14 - The Pilgrims



15 - Armand Barbès



16 - Quia Multum Amavit



17 - Genesis



18 - To Walt Whitman in America



19 - Christmas Antiphones



20 - A New Year’s Message



21 - Mater Dolorosa



22 - Mater Triumphalis



23 - A Marching Song



24 - Siena



25 - Cor Cordium



26 - In San Lorenzo



27 - Tiresias



28 - The Song of the Standard



29 - On the Downs



30 - Messidor



31 - Ode on the Insurrection in Candia



32 - Non Dolet



33 - Eurydice



34 - An Appeal



35 - Perinde ac Cadaver



36 - Monotones



37 - The Oblation



38 - A Year’s Burden



39 - Epilogue


Dedication to Joseph Mazzini

Take, since you bade it should bear,
   These, of the seed of your sowing,
      Blossom or berry or weed.
Sweet though they be not, or fair,
   That the dew of your word kept growing,
      Sweet at least was the seed.

Men bring you love-offerings of tears,
   And sorrow the kiss that assuages,
      And slaves the hate-offering of wrongs,
And time the thanksgiving of years,
   And years the thanksgiving of ages;
      I bring you my handful of songs.

If a perfume be left, if a bloom,
   Let it live till Italia be risen,
      To be strewn in the dust of her car
When her voice shall awake from the tomb
   England, and France from her prison,
      Sisters, a star by a star.

p. viI bring you the sword of a song,
   The sword of my spirit’s desire,
      Feeble; but laid at your feet,
That which was weak shall be strong,
   That which was cold shall take fire,
      That which was bitter be sweet.

It was wrought not with hands to smite,
   Nor hewn after swordsmiths’ fashion,
      Nor tempered on anvil of steel;
But with visions and dreams of the night,
   But with hope, and the patience of passion,
      And the signet of love for a seal.

Be it witness, till one more strong,
   Till a loftier lyre, till a rarer
      Lute praise her better than I,
Be it witness before you, my song,
   That I knew her, the world’s banner-bearer,
      Who shall cry the republican cry.

Yea, even she as at first,
   Yea, she alone and none other,
      Shall cast down, shall build up, shall bring home;
Slake earth’s hunger and thirst,
   Lighten, and lead as a mother;
      First name of the world’s names, Rome.

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