A poem by Aeschylus (c. 525 – c. 456 Before Christ )
A GLEAM – a gleam – from Ida’s height,
By the Fire-god sent, it came;
From watch to watch it leapt, that light,
As a rider rode the flame!
It shot through the startled sky,
And the torch of that blazing glory
Old Lemnos caught on high,
On its holy promontory,
And sent it on, the jocund sign,
To Athos, Mount of Jove divine.
Wildly the while, it rose from the isle,
So that the might of the journeying Light
Skimmed over the back of the gleaming brine!
Farther and faster speeds it on,
Till the watch that keeps Macistus steep
See it burst like a blazing Sun!
Doth Macistus sleep
On his tower-clad steep?
No! rapid and red doth the wild fire sweep;
It flashes afar on the wayward stream
Of the wild Euripus, the rushing beam!
It rouses the light on Messapion’s height,
And they feed its breath with the withered heath.
But it may not stay!
And away – away –
It bounds in its freshening might.
Silent and soon,
Like a broadened moon,
It passes in sheen, Asopus green,
And bursts on Cithaeron gray!
The warder wakes to the Signal-rays,
And it swoops from the hill with a broader blaze.
On, on the fiery Glory rode;
Thy lonely lake, Gorgopis, glowed!
To Megara’s Mount it came;
They feed it again
And it streams amain-
A giant beard of Flame!
The headland cliffs that darkly down
O’er the Saronic waters frown,
Are passed with the Swift One’s lurid stride,
And the huge rock glares on the glaring tide.
With mightier march and fiercer power
It gained Arachne’s neighboring tower;
Thence on our Argive roof its rest it won,
Of Ida’s fire the long-descended Son!
Bright Harbinger of glory and of joy!
So first and last with equal honor crowned,
In solemn feasts the race-torch circles round. –
And these my heralds! – this my SIGN OF PEACE;
Lo! while we breathe, the victor lords of Greece
Stalk, in stern tumult, through the halls of Troy!

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External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
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Poems in English
- Not the Pilot. by Walt Whitman
- Not My Enemies Ever Invade Me. by Walt Whitman
- Not Heaving from My Ribb’d Breast Only. by Walt Whitman
- Not Heat Flames up and Consumes. by Walt Whitman
- No Labor-Saving Machine. by Walt Whitman
- Night on The Prairies. by Walt Whitman
- Native Moments. by Walt Whitman
- Mystic Trumpeter, The. by Walt Whitman
- Myself and Mine. by Walt Whitman
- My Picture-Gallery. by Walt Whitman
- Mother and Babe. by Walt Whitman
- Miracles. by Walt Whitman
- Mediums. by Walt Whitman
- Me Imperturbe. by Walt Whitman
- Mannahatta. by Walt Whitman
- Manhattan Streets I Saunter’d, Pondering. by Walt Whitman
- Look Down, Fair Moon. by Walt Whitman
- Longings for Home. by Walt Whitman
- Long, too Long, O Land! by Walt Whitman
- Long I Thought that Knowledge. by Walt Whitman
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Aeschylus (525 Before Christ to 456 B.C.) was an ancient Greek author of Greek tragedy, and is often described as the father of tragedy. Academics’ knowledge of the genre begins with his work, and understanding of earlier Greek tragedy is largely based on inferences made from reading his surviving plays. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in the theatre and allowed conflict among them.