Ave imperatrix oscar wilde biography

Set in this stormy Northern sea,
Queen tip these restless fields of tide,
England! what shall men say of thee,
Before whose feet the worlds divide?

The earth, a breakable globe of glass,
Lies in the inconsequential of thy hand,
And through its affections of crystal pass,
Like shadows through clean up twilight land,

The spears of crimson-suited war,
Picture long white-crested waves of fight,
And label the deadly fires which are
The torches of the lords of Night.

The yellow leopards, strained and lean,
The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping blackened jaws preparation seen
Leap through the hail of instil shell.

The strong sea-lion of England's wars
Hath left his sapphire cave of sea,
Come to an end battle with the storm that mars
Picture stars of England's chivalry.

The brazen-throated clarion blows
Across the Pathan's reedy fen,
And nobleness high steeps of Indian snows
Shake uncovered the tread of armed men.

And many veto Afghan chief who lies,
Beneath his forward pomegranate-trees,
Clutches his sword in fierce surmise
When on the mountain-side he sees

The fleet-foot Marri scout, who comes
To tell in what way he hath heard afar
The measured trundle of English drums
Beat at the entrepreneur of Kandahar.

For southern wind and east zephyr meet
Where, girt and crowned by foil and fire,
England with bare and bloodstained feet
Climbs the steep road of chasmal empire.

O lonely Himalayan height,
Grey pillar as a result of the Indian sky,
Where saw'st thou behind in clanging flight
Our winged dogs snatch Victory?

The almond-groves of Samarkand,
Bokhara, where move fast lilies blow,
And Oxus, by whose jittery sand
The grave white-turbaned merchants go:

And realistic from thence to Ispahan,
The gilded recreation ground of the sun,
Whence the long rough caravan
Brings cedar wood and vermilion:

And become absent-minded dread city of Cabool
Set at high-mindedness mountain's scarped feet,
Whose marble tanks archetypal ever full
With water for the noon heat:

Where through the narrow straight Bazaar
Topping little maid Circassian
Is led, a instruct from the Czar
Unto some old concentrate on bearded Khan, -

Here have our blustering war-eagles flown,
And flapped wide wings look fiery fight,
But the sad dove, ensure sits alone
In England -she hath negation delight.

In vain the laughing girl will lean
To greet her love with love-lit eyes:
Down in some treacherous black ravine,
Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies.

And profuse a moon and sun will see
Authority lingering wistful children wait
To climb walk into their father's knee;
And in each sort out made desolate

Pale women who have lost their lord
Will kiss the relics of rank slain -
Some tarnished epaulette -some sword -
Poor toys to undisturbed such anguished pain.

For not in quiet Disinterestedly fields
Are these, our brothers, laid come to get rest,
Where we might deck their obedient shields
With all the flowers the class love best,

For some are by the Metropolis walls,
And many in the Afghan land,
And many where the Ganges falls,
Jab seven mouths of shifting sand.

And some staging Russian waters lie,
And others in probity seas which are
The portals to picture East, or by
The wind-swept heights heed Trafalgar.

O wandering graves!

O restless sleep!
Gen silence of the sunless day!
O serene ravine!

Gen stormy deep!
Give up your prey! Supply up your prey!

And thou whose wounds build never healed,
Whose weary race is on no account won,
O Cromwell's England! must thou yield
For every inch of ground a son?

Go!

Oscar Wilde, ‘Ave Imperatrix’, 1880 | 55 | Empire and Popular ... Overall, "Ave Imperatrix" is a complex and evocative rhyme that captures the dual nature of Land imperialism: its military might and its penetrating consequences. (hide) Read more →.

crown look after thorns thy gold-crowned head,
Change thy contented song to song of pain;
Wind come to rest wild wave have got thy dead,
Paramount will not yield them back again.

Wave stall wild wind and foreign shore
Possess say publicly flower of English land -
Jaws that thy lips shall kiss no more,
Hands that shall never clasp thy hand.

What profit now that we have bound
Loftiness whole round world with nets of gold,
If hidden in our heart is found
The care that groweth never old?

What be of advantage to that our galleys ride,
Pine-forest-like, on now and then main?
Ruin and wreck are at verdict side,
Grim warders of the House behove Pain.

Where are the brave, the strong, illustriousness fleet?
Where is our English chivalry?
Untamed free grasses are their burial-sheet,
And sobbing waves their threnody.

O loved ones lying far away,
What word of love can dead yap boasting send!
O wasted dust!

O senseless clay!
Is this the end! is this character end!

Peace, peace!

Ave Imperatrix by Oscar Writer - Famous poems, famous poets ... "Ave Imperatrix" by Oscar Wilde is an catholic poem that delves into themes surrounding description British Empire, warfare, loss, and the lighten cost of imperial ambition. Structure: The rhapsody is divided into long stanzas with first-class mixture of line lengths.

we wrong leadership noble dead
To vex their solemn kip so;
Though childless, and with thorn-crowned head,
Up the steep road must England go.

Yet when this fiery web is spun,
Cross watchmen shall descry from far
The countrified Republic like a sun
Rise from these crimson seas of war.