Upon the Fount of Glory's Sacred Hill

By A. Sanjeev Kumar

O Muses nine, thy servant doth implore,

To grace these verses with the ancient lore.

Upon the sacred hill of Parnassus high,

Where Helicon's streams weave a melody.

In measured steps, I tread with epic might,

A bard in shadows of the Homeric light.

Invoke, ye Muses, from thy sacred springs,

The art of words, the inspiration brings.

With lyres tuned to the Aonian breeze,

I venture forth to seek the poets' keys.

In Sapphic stanzas, let my voice ascend,

To heights where ancient dreams and muses blend.

As Virgil trod the path of fate divine,

Through Aeneas' tale, in every line,

I too aspire, my destiny to weave,

In epic verse, where mighty passions heave.

With Ovid's metamorphoses as guide,

Through realms of myth and magic, far and wide,

I shape my words, a cosmic tapestry,

In ancient rhythms, my soul set free.

Like Homer, let my narrative resound,

A saga spun in cadence so profound.

Invoke the spirits of the ancients grand,

To guide my pen, with a discerning hand.

In Horatian odes, I sing of glory,

A timeless tale, an everlasting story.

With ancient cadence, let my dreams unfold,

In stately measures, let my tale be told.

O ancient bards, with lyres and with pen,

Whose verses echo in the hearts of men,

Bestow upon me, from your hallowed seat,

The wisdom old, the inspiration sweet.

So, let this ode, in robes of ages worn,

Be hailed with laurels on the morn.

In Pegasus' shadow, let me shine,

And claim the prize, a victory divine.

By A. Sanjeev Kumar